Chapter 9

She was really starting to hate this resurrection business. It was always so painful. She was beginning to feel like Lazarus. Her eyes opened up on a familiar face, with a very. . . patrician nose that she thought should be broken, but wasn’t. Her mind started to pull itself back together and then she got mad.

She’d almost been poisoned, then sliced and diced until she bled to death. A few days later she was skewered on a sword and now she’d been shot, in the GUT, by the guy standing over her holding out his hand. A few thousand images of his painful death flashed through her mind, but she settled on something simple instead. She kicked up and with her heavy leather boots, connected with his groin. He fell with a satisfying, high-pitched squeal.

She stood up and brushed herself off. By that time her companion, the annoying Adam Pierson, had recovered and was looking at her with utter loathing shining like a beacon on his face.

"That was not necessary." His face took on an even more annoyed look as his voice cracked on the first word. Miss Parker just smiled her cat’s grin.

"Maybe not, but it made me feel better." She looked like the cat who swallowed the bird.

"And I though the Sabine women could be annoying," he mumbled as he brushed off a piece of mangled, green something off his sleeve, giving it the same look he’d earlier given her. "Is there somewhere else we could discuss this a little less. . . filthy?"

"You shoot me and then expect me to invite you in? And I thought Mr. Raines had twisted ideas about foreplay." She turned around and walked out of the alley.

"Duncan’s rubbing off on me. I should have left her with the sword in her gut." He finally stood up and watched as she walked away.

"Are you coming or are you going to climb in the window, so I can see how fast you fall?" As she looked back over her shoulder, he muttered to himself again and this time she didn’t even want to think about what he said.

Once she was in her apartment with a cup of coffee warming up her hands, she again looked over the man who followed her. His story was on the fantastical side, but having just died three times, she was willing to keep an open mind.

"So this is just a big, testosterone fest?"

"It’s not that bad." He stirred his own cup of coffee, while thinking of a way to explain the importance of everything. "It’s how we live, it’s how everyone lives. You fight to defend yourself, or you fight to gain power. Immortals are just a bit more old fashioned about it."

"Opening doors and ‘Please and Thank you’ is old fashioned. Hacking off peoples heads with a sword is anachronistic." She arched an eyebrow as she said that.

"I’m talking about the fate of all mankind and she’s arguing semantics. I should definitely pass her off to Amanda." He looked straight at her with a smirk on his lips that smoothed out to an easy grin as she just looked at him.

"Do you always talk to yourself so much?" She found an answering smile gracing her lips.

"Only when I really wish I hadn’t been hung but beheaded." He watched her, gauging her reactions and pleased with the results. Aside from the initial denial, she was taking this quite well.

"How old are you?" Miss Parker switched her cup to her other hand to take off the chill that still lingered in her fingers. Adam didn’t look that old, but it was a crazy day. She could easily believe he was over a hundred by this time. He looked her over and with a sly grin spoke.

"Fifty-two hundred is as close as I’ve been able to figure."

The cup fell from her nerveless fingers, her jaw hung slightly open and her eyes positively bugged open. He just laughed. For some reason she had no doubt he was speaking the truth. It was too insane to be a lie. Her jaw twitched a bit as she tried to get some noise to pass out of her mouth. The best she managed was a squeak.

Adam just started laughing harder at that point. When she finally remembered that breathing was a good idea, she had spots in front of her eyes and realized that not only was her sweater full of holes and covered with blood, she now had coffee splashed all the way down her front, dripping on her socked feet.

"I knew there would be rewards for honesty, but this is more along the lines of instant gratification." He reached a hand up and wiped the last of the moisture from his eyes, which were still sparkling with mischief.

Miss Parker looked down at her ruined clothes, at the ancient man sitting at her dilapidated kitchen table, out the window to the street below where she first saw Jack, back to Adam then finally resting on the smashed cup on the floor. Time to breathe again. She had seen many weird, twisted and downright odd things in her life, but this was it.

"Maybe I should clean this up."

***

By the time I got back to Joe’s bar, I was about ready to collapse. What I had on me in the way of medical supplies had gotten me that far, but now I needed to do some serious fixing. If I could. I couldn’t feel my shoulder, my knee would barely hold my weight and my left arm . . . Well we won’t think about that.

I had enough trouble getting the key in the lock so I could open the door and now I struggled through the back, attempting to pull out what was left of the First Aid kit. There were some bandages and such that hadn’t been used and some other things I could improvise from what was around.

Dumping what I’d gathered on the table next to my gun, I got to work. Well, I wanted to get to work. Instead I just sat there, too exhausted to move. A few minutes later I got in gear and started to ease my vest off. I just cut the sleeve of my shirt off so I could examine the mess of my arm.

It didn’t look good; blood was still sluggishly seeping out around the knife. The tensor had done an okay job, but this now required more coordination than I could manage. If I pulled that knife out, it would start bleeding full flow. I couldn’t do much about my shoulder either; the knife hadn’t gone in very deep and I’d yanked it out a while ago but I couldn’t really reach it. The scratch down the same arm would survive on its own. That left my leg.

A noise interrupted my mental catalog of what all was wrong with me. Within a second, the gun was pointing at the figures in the door way. I half expected it to be Joe but was disappointed in the vain hope as the sling gave Fox away. The other had to be Jarod. I didn’t want company, but with the shape I was in, I wasn’t in a position to argue.

"Samantha?" Fox ran forward when he saw me while Jarod trailed behind.

"I’m fine, a little sore, but I’ll live." I couldn’t even wrangle up a pathetic excuse of a smile.

"Let me see." Jarod bent over to look at my arm, his cold manner not even penetrating the fog that was rapidly building in my head.

"There’s also my shoulder and a slice on the back of my ribs, across from the last one." I managed to get that out, but I was starting to fade out. Jarod poked at the knife, waking up what I thought had long since become numb. So much for the half bottle of pain killers I’d already swallowed. "There’s a. . . an anesthetic gel in the black case if you’re going to. . . go digging around."

"Bring that over here." Jarod held a hand out to Fox, who got cast in the role of nurse. I could almost see the white cap. I guess the pain killers were kicking in. Finally. While I started fading in and out of reality, Jarod got to work.

After a few minutes the knife came out and sometime after that I realized my arm was bandaged up and Jarod was onto something else. Shoulder I think. I remembered someone saying something about infection, but after that it was all pretty hazy. Eventually I was wrapped up in something soft and that was it. I was out of it. I didn’t even wake up for the argument that rang through the bar soon after.

When I did wake up, I really wished I hadn’t. Everything hurt. Arms and legs particularly. Shifting onto my side started a bunch of things throbbing, but since I could feel it all hurting I wasn’t too worried. It took more than a few moments for the past few days to filter through my brain, but after that, I wanted to get up.

Swinging my legs over, I grabbed the back of a chair before I even tried to stand. Good thing to, because from the bulge of the tensor around my knee, I wouldn’t be very mobile for sometime to come. Sitting in said chair, I pulled out the brace I’d made what seemed like years ago and fitted it on. Just that hurt.

The vivid purple bruising peeping over the top of the wrappings promised more underneath and the stark white bandage on my arm hid some intense throbbing as I tried to tighten the buckles. I wasn’t as adept at functioning one handed as Fox. With the tensor on, the brace slipped on over top and relatively secure, I was ready to try walking.

Limping, painfully, to the main room reveled that no one else was around. Things looked much the same as it had last night with what was left of the supplies I’d gathered, scattered on the table. The main difference was the blood that stained the already scared table top and a note.

"Gone for food and other stuff.

"Mulder."

He didn’t even call himself Fox. The fact that he let me, gave me a bit of a warm, fuzzy feeling. But more important than the note was the bottle it was propped up against. Tylenol. He even left me a glass of water so I wouldn’t have to go get one. Four pills and twenty minutes of not moving a muscle later, I was feeling much better.

Since I wasn’t wearing all that much when I woke up, just a tank top and underwear, I checked over my various injuries. I wasn’t in as bad shape as I feared, but it was worse than I’d hoped.

My shoulder had about five stitches and moving it wasn’t pleasant, but was otherwise fine. The long scratch on the same arm and the gash on my ribs where also fine. I’d have a fine set of matched scars once they heal and with the last bullet gash that was still a scab. So much for taking it easy to let my ribs heal. I lucked out though, since I didn’t actually break any.

I slowly unwrapped the bandaging on the other arm and looked at the neat row of stitches. It looked a lot better than it felt. Slowly turning my wrist I looked at the other side. It looked about the same but was a bit more jagged.

Moving back to my room, I looked for something that I could put on. I found a pair of sweatpants and replaced the tank top with an oversized T-shirt. It wasn’t exactly an easy thing to do, but I eventually managed to get everything on. By the time I got back to the front of the bar, I was wiped.

The dried blood was still on the table and I had more than a few smears on me as well. But cleaning it up would require moving. It was kinda gory though and Joe hated a mess. I pushed the thought down and forced myself up. I slowly made my way behind the bar and got a wet cloth. I wiped off the table then went into the bathroom to clean myself off as best I could, taking the opportunity to have more than a few glasses of water while I was at it. A bar towel isn’t the best thing to use as a face cloth, though, but it worked if I was careful around the various cuts, knicks and scrapes, many of which I didn’t even remember receiving.

By the time I was cleaned off, I headed back to the table just in time to hear the front door opening and see Fox step through the entryway. He was carrying a few paper bags that hopefully contained the food. Among other things my stomach was making its presence known.

"What did you get?" If it wasn’t edible I was going to make him go back out and get something that was.

"Chinese."

"Chinese? This early?"

"It’s not that early. You’ve spent the last 20 hours sleeping." He placed the bags on a clean table and started to empty the bags, politely ignoring my astonishment. I never sleep that much, injured or no. At least I didn’t think so. No, I knew so. At the very least I should have woken up to go to the bathroom. Confusion reined until something clicked.

"What did Jarod give me?" I looked at Fox as I asked this and noticed the slight pause as he was putting things out.

"Huh?" He tried to look the picture off innocence and, his line of work being what it was, he was pretty good. But not good enough.

"I don’t believe the innocent act." I eyed him for a bit more before he broke.

"Jarod found a sedative in your bag and gave you a dose before he put you to bed. You were already pretty much out of it." He admitted it but he still didn’t look me in the eye.

"Do me a favor and don't do that again." I reached for one of the containers Fox had laid out then snagged a set of chop sticks. Cradling my left arm on my lap, I settled in my chair and set about digging in. "Speaking of Jarod, where’d he take off to."

Fox busied himself in his cashew chicken and didn’t answer.

"Fox, what happened?" I stopped with a mouthful of rice precariously balancing on my chopsticks halfway to my mouth.

"Nothing." He still wouldn’t look at me as he spoke.

"Ya. Right." I said, but since he didn’t want to talk about it now, I let it go.

***

The next morning, I felt only marginally more human. The painkillers I’d taken the night before had worn off and I was a stiff as a board. I pulled myself out of bed and after actually walking around, worked out some of the stiffness. Tylenol took care of the rest.

Fox had left last night to go back to his hotel and called later to give me the details of his flight. He and Scully ended up on an evening flight and they were spending the morning wrapping things up and packing. Jarod was nowhere to be seen and even though Duncan had called briefly last night, I wanted to see how he was doing. In my fury, I hadn’t really considered how Joe’s death was affecting him and Richie. They had known him for a lot longer than I had.

Pushing aside the grief that still was eating away at me, I wrapped my knee and secured the brace, running pretty much on automatic. I’d opted for shorts today since I didn’t think I could fit my jeans over the swollen mess. They looked kinda odd with the long sleeve shirt I’d thrown on to hide the other various bandages, cuts and so forth.

I had trouble brushing my hair out and ended up leaving it loose, since it takes two hands to do anything with it. By then, as I peered into the mirror, I looked presentable. I was still a little pale and the blue smudges under my eyes were still there, but over all I would pass.

I stepped out and set off, taking my time. Not that I had much choice in the matter. As I walked (well, calling my gait a walk was being generous in the extreme) I had a chance to think. I didn’t like what I had done, but it was done and I couldn’t undo it. And it had needed to be done.

It hadn’t changed anything about how I felt, though. I still felt like my soul had been ripped out of me and I raged against the unfairness of Joe’s death. The only thing that changed was that Mary was out of the picture and that gave Fox and Scully a chance to get back to Washington, where they’d be safer.

I had taken some more painkillers before I left, but even so, my leg ached. But I was almost at the Dojo, so I persevered for the rest of the way. The pain in my leg helped take my mind off the ache in my heart. What a melodramatic picture!

I had a sad smile at the turn my thoughts had taken. I was starting to sound like a character in a cheap novel. Picking up the pace a little, I traveled the rest of the way in a slightly better mood. As a result, when I stepped into the Dojo, I was able to greet Duncan with something resembling my usual cheer.

Poking my head into his office, I saw he was sitting down, messing around with his new computer. It came in a yesterday and he’d been having trouble getting it set up properly. I wasn’t sure what to say so I fell back on inconsequentials.

"Hi Duncan."

He looked up from the screen, with a sigh of relief. "Hi" then the computer bleeped at him and he turned the screen off with disgust.

"I can come back later, You look like you’re busy."

"I can destroy this thing later. Have a seat." Well, I limped over to the chair and settled into it, grateful to be off my feet. Duncan eyed me as I sat down, worry in his eyes but he waited for me to start. I didn’t want to start so we sat in the quiet for a while before I broke down and spoke.

"How do you do it? How can you be so clam about it?" Real smooth line to start off there, girly. As the words left my mouth, Duncan’s face crumbled. Maybe he wasn’t so calm about it.

"I’m sorry, It’s just that. . . I don’t know what to do." I started sniffling. "I don’t know what to feel, I. . . I feel useless."

"So do I. But you still went after her." He looked at me and while his tone accused me, his eyes didn’t.

"I needed to do something. And she needed to be stopped."

"Who are you trying to convince; me or you?" He asked but I didn’t answer his question, instead I was trying to keep the tears welling up in my eyes from spilling over.

"What do I do now?" I wasn’t very successful, but I managed to avoid a complete breakdown.

"You go on. You live and you remember. You do what you have to." He swallowed and tears were shining in his own eyes. "Then you put it behind you. Everybody dies. You have to deal with it."

I was quickly turning into a quivering mass of nerves. I wanted to get out of there, so I’d have a chance to calm down. I blubbered out something and headed to the door, not even feeling my knee want to give out under me. Duncan just nodded as I left and I knew he understood.

I wasn’t really paying any attention to where I was going so I ran into Jarod, literally, as I was going out the door. He grabbed my arm, so I didn’t land on my butt. This saved my dignity, but my shoulder started throbbing from being jarred.

"Sorry." I moved over to the side so I was out of his way, but he didn’t move. Instead he looked me in the face. The full force of his anger hit me like a ton of bricks.

"Inside," he growled. When I didn’t move fast enough, he tried to pull me in with the hand still on my arm. I wrenched it out of his grasp and still a little off balance went back inside. The second we were out of the public eye, he started in on me.

"Why? Why did you do that?" His voice was low and dark.

"Why what?" I had a good idea, but I wanted to hear him say it. Just the look on his face had my ire up and the anger and sorrow I’d kept just bellow the surface all day threatened to break loose.

"Why shoot out her knees?" His eyes bored into mine and my temper flared even more. But I took a deep breath and explained. Sort of.

"She was going to kill me and Fox, Scully, even YOU! And you ask me why I stopped her? I did what I had to."

"You had to stop her, not cripple her. She has no knees left and even with surgery and replacements, it will be a miracle if she ever walks again." His words dripped with ice and all the affection I’d ever seen in his face was gone.

"It stopped her, didn’t it?" I was mad now and threw back may answer with a cocky grin just to further annoy him.

"You did it on purpose." It worked as his eyes narrowed and I think he was getting furious.

"I made a decision and followed it through. I wanted her out of commission. Permanently."

"You had no right!"

"I had no right! And what about you!" With everything that had happened, I felt like my heart had been ripped apart. This was the last straw.

"What about me?" He asked that like no one had ever questioned what he did.

"Yes, you and you’re little. . . Jarod’s Court of Justice. Who made you God to judge the world and punish the guilty! Are you so perfect that you are never wrong? That you never hurt the wrong person?" My voice got louder and I took a step towards him, getting in his face. He didn’t answer.

"Do you ever stick around to see the aftermath of your little power trips or do you get your happy headline and move on. Well, I’m not you. I did what I had to do. I probably should have blown her head off, but that was wrong. So I stopped her so that she couldn’t ever go back to her job. She can’t go back to the Center or back to whoever she was working for. And I stopped her before she could kill you and Fox and Scully, because if I hadn’t stopped her, you would be dead."

"So you blow her knees off and call it mercy. You didn’t have to do that to stop her." He hadn’t calmed down any.

"Yes. I. Did." I grated the words out one at a time. "Now the Center won’t take her back. She knows what happens to people the Center doesn’t want. She’ll disappear before they get their hands on her. If they don’t get it cleaned up quickly, they’ll leave Fox and Dana be, because they’ll be back in Washington with their reports made. By then it will be pointless to kill them." So far, Duncan was politely ignoring the two of us yelling at each other, but I was about ready to slug Jarod and I don’t think Duncan would ignore that.

"You were cruel." Jarod’s voice still held a cold edge but there was a bit of something else in his voice.

"So what! Think she was nice to Joe? Do you honestly think she didn’t have evil in her heart when she did what she did to Miss Parker? It’s a cruel world we live in." I’d had enough and turned to leave. Jarod had other ideas and grabbed my arm, clamping down on the stitches he’d put in last night. The fact he didn’t realize that, only went to show just how mad he was. The fact I didn’t feel it, only showed the same about me.

"We’re not done."

"What! You’re going to make me pay, like you do everyone else you judge guilty?" My hand reached out and hit a nerve in his arm, forcing him to let my arm go. Blood was staining through the bandage and was starting to show through the sleeve. I held it up.

"I’ve already paid." Then I turned and stepped away. Of course, my much abused knee wasn’t that impressed with the idea and I stumbled. When he reached forward to give me a hand, I knocked it out of the way. "Save it for someone you deem worthy."

Chapter 10

I made it back to the bar, keeping my eye’s mostly dry and suppressing the occasional sob. But as I stepped into the main room, I almost lost it as I tried not to let the tears filling my eyes blind me. The fight with Jarod didn’t help my mental state and the feeling of the empty bar didn’t help either.

Taking a deep breath, I tried to calm myself. Bawling like a baby wouldn’t solve anything. I wandered over to the stage and carefully pulled myself up. I looked at the stool that Joe used to sit on when he played and then noticed his guitar case. Curiosity got the better of me and sitting down, I opened it up. I had expected the instrument to be damaged but was happy to see it unscarred. Running a finger over the smooth finish, I reverently closed the lid. And then the tears I’d been holding back started to flow.

They streamed down my face and everything blurred together. I was sitting on the floor, arms wrapped around me as my whole body shook and the sobs pushed against the lump in my throat. I was lost in a haze of grief. But, eventually the vice around my chest eased and the tears slowed.

By then I was curled up in a ball on the stage, my shirt was a mess with blood and tears. But for the first time in five days I didn’t feel numb. I took a deep breath, then another and another, and could feel the air rushing in to the bottom of my lungs. I was still angry at what happened to Joe, but the cold ball of fury that was sitting in the pit of my stomach was a little lighter and with each deep breath, it seemed to disappear a little bit more.

Finally I got up and went to put on a clean shirt. When I stepped back in the room Father was there. He was sitting on a chair at the table, looking over the room with his back to me. There was a sadness about him that seemed to fit with the way my day was going. After a moment he turned around and looked at me. I was still in the doorway.

"Hello Ann."

"I’m not Ann." I smiled at him, not really caring at the now familiar jibe but flipping off the expected answer any way.

"Have you decided who you are then? Are you going to go back to Washington with Fox Mulder and reclaim your birth name, or maintain the persona you’re using now?" He looked me over expectantly, almost like he was holding his breath.

"I haven’t had much of a chance to think about it." I was pretty noncommittal as I pulled a chair over to where he was sitting.

"What have you been doing all day?" Nothing in his face had changed, but the sadness had returned to his shoulders.

"Not much, I went and saw Duncan, since I didn’t get a chance yesterday." I armed the chair across the table from him.

"Oh?"

"Jarod slipped me a micky that knocked me out for 20 hours." With a dry tone, I sat down across from Father, my loose hair falling in my face.

"So nice of him." The acid bite conveyed his opinion of Jarod and I found myself in agreement. He continued on, this time in a more polite voice. "You’re going to have to come to a decision about it you know."

"Really, I thought I could just go by Jane Doe, the rest of my life." It was my turn to be sarcastic.

"Jane Nygma wasn’t bad." He didn’t fall for it. "I actually liked it."

"You would." I swept the hair out of my face and unconsciously tucked it behind my ear. Father’s eyes sharpened.

"You’ve been crying!" He sounded quite surprised.

"So?"

"I just haven’t seen you cry since. . . " He looked away, thoughtful.

"Since when?" I was curious. When we were waiting for Mary to show up, we talked, but never about anything personal.

"Since you were first brought to me." His eyes looked off into the distance like he was reliving the past and didn’t like what he saw.

"What was it like?" I sat and watched him, fascinated by what I saw.

"The Center was as bad then as it is now. Mr. Raines had a free hand to do what he wanted and he used that freedom with little regard for ethics. He used children like clay to shape, mold and fire into his twisted vision. And if they happened to crack in the process, too bad."

"Why did you join up with the Center then?"

"That is a long story, that doesn’t really end but ties into everything else. I presume you’ve read my Watcher file." He waited for my brief nod and then continued. "They took my son. In the middle of the night they came and stole him, leaving Alice and I completely. . . distraught. We started looking, checking out anything we could using our contacts to see what we could find. At first we thought it was because of our involvement with the government, but that was a dead end.

"Eventually, Alice stumbled onto the Center through their contracts with the US Government. They supplied personnel, equipment, many things that weren’t easily available through normal channels. A few days later, her car exploded. It was quite dramatic. I wasn’t even close enough to see her, one last time." He stopped and stared out into space for a few moments. I’d been caught up in the rhythm of his words and their cadence had pulled me in. But I didn’t want to intrude on his private moment so I waited. Eventually he gathered himself together and continued.

"It took me a long time to find out everything I could about them. Finally I realized my son was already dead. Their records said he was released, but he never was. I searched the entire globe for him, but I know he never left. So I decided to get even. The best way to do that, was from the inside.

"I had a long history of, shall we say, less than moral standings on death. I went back into business and set out feelers in the right directions. And then I waited for them to notice me. Once I was in, I tried to destroy them one piece at a time. I was over ambitious though. After a few months, they started to get suspicious and stuck me as a trainer. I was no longer in a position to manipulate things as I had wanted. Instead, I gathered information and started training the Assassins.

"And I met you. You still had a spark that was already beaten out of the other girls. You looked around you and saw what you were looking at. You were special. You also woke up every night screaming your lungs out. You’d spend half the night sleeping fitfully and the other half curled up in a ball with tears streaming down your face.

"I suppose that eventually your old nightmares were replaced with new ones. The dreams eased off, never going away completely, but you’d quickly learned to deal with them without attracting attention. But then your training was mostly done and they contracted the bunch of you out. I left before they became too suspicious of me and my motives and with what I knew, began to dig into their power base.

"I’d come back every now and again when they wanted something done, all the while gathering more information. They have influences stretching out into areas you wouldn’t believe. One time I was back for a job and you were there. But you were different. It was like your mind was blank.

"Your instincts and training were still there, but you looked at me with empty eyes and you didn’t see what you looked at. I don’t know what happened to cause that, other than the fact it was done deliberately. When I asked, I was told you saw something you weren’t supposed to. That was the result.

"I was furious. I broke you out that week. It was quite interesting, because you didn’t remember me. But you came anyway and we left. We were independent for a few years and then, one day, you’d had enough. You gave me your things for safe keeping and left. We kept in touch and you drifted around the country, doing odd jobs and enjoying yourself. But you soon realized someone was after you.

"You came to see me and we were getting together for lunch when we stumbled on the bomb. I got you and most of the other people out of the building and tried to defuse the bloody thing, but it blew up in my face. You have no idea how much that hurts. Or how long major, third degree burns take to heal, even for someone like me.

"By the time I was able to look for you, you had already disappeared. I knew you where still in the city, so I started to set things up. I couldn’t come right out and help you if I couldn’t find you. You knew people were still hunting you and you wouldn’t trust anyone who just approached you. I still don’t know why you trusted Jarod."

"Neither do I." I whispered, still angry over the fight we’d had earlier. That seemed to break Father out of his fog and when he continued his tale, his eyes started to light up.

"I contacted your brother first. Dropping him hints to get him to come, but he was being stubborn and was rather busy thinking his conspiracy was behind it all. So I created an X-file for him, right on your back step. I really should apologize to Duncan about that. A rather nice piece of luck, your running into him. It tied things up so nicely. Since Jarod was already poking his nose around, I thought you might as well get some concrete knowledge about the Center from him. He has enough dirt on them to put them out of business, but hasn’t done much with it."

"What about Miss Parker?" I didn’t want to talk about Jarod at that particular moment.

"She was quite unlucky showing up like that. I wonder if she’s found a mentor?" He leaned back in his chair, a thoughtful expression on his face.

"What? I thought she was dead?"

"Well, not exactly." He had that ‘not sure what to say’ look.

"You mean she’s. . . " I never finished the sentence as he cut me off.

"Yes."

"Oh." The thought crossed my mind that I should tell Jarod. If I ever saw him again. If I didn’t kill him first.

"So that is everything that has happened to date. Well, the important parts at least. Someone still wants to kill you and someone else wants you alive but in their hands."

"The Center wants me dead. But who wants me alive?"

"I think it’s the people you went to work for when the Center hired you out. You found out something and you paid for it. Since you were still too valuable as a bargaining chip with Mulder and his father, you were kept alive."

"So why come after me now?" I asked, wondering at all the angles.

"I don’t know," he said.

From there the conversation fell to silence as I tried to digest all I’d heard, letting it mull over in my mind. With someone still after me, I couldn’t exactly stick around here and wait for them to show up. I needed to find out more about who they were and what they did. "Who did they send me to?"

"I could never find out exactly who. That they’re in bed with the US government is a given. As for who they are and what they did, the best I could come up with was some sort of illegal medical research."

"That sounds like fun." I paused and chewed my lip for a second. "The Center should have records about them. Particularly if the relationship was more than just renting talent."

"I haven’t been able to find it if it was there."

"Did you ever get my whole file from them? Everything they had on me?"

"No, they kept most of the records in different sections. The main ones are in the Headquarters in Blue Cove. I kept your training records and dug up your personal files later. What’s going through that head of yours, girl?" Father’s tone was slightly patronizing, but I ignored it.

"I’m thinking a little breaking and entering in the future might answer a lot of questions." My eyes lit up.

"Not any time soon. Getting into that place is a lot easier than getting out. And you’re in no condition to be doing either."

"Give me a few weeks. . . " I wasn’t that bad off.

"Try a few months. At minimum." So much for that idea.

"Okay, a few months then. We go in and get the files." I suppose I could wait.

"Are you sure?" He asked that like he expected me to fall apart of something.

"You couldn’t keep me away from them if you tried." There was still one thing bothering me though. "Father. . . "

"How many times have I told you not to call me that."

"Then what do I call you?" I smiled at him coyly.

"I guess I haven’t given you a name recently, have I?"

"Nope. I’ve got an Oliver, Edward, Alex and well, I’m still wondering about Percy."

"Call me Percy and I’ll take you out and have you shot. The current ID in Micheal Bennett. I don’t want to take up Alex, and Oliver was a long time ago. Murdoc? No, Not that." He’d started talking to himself, like he was rambling on.

"When were you Murdoc?"

"Before we left the Center, I was doing some outside contract work, I was hired to eliminate this man who. . . You know, I don’t even remember what the reason was. Anyway, Instead he and a kid he picked up along the way managed to kill me. I wasn’t being too serious about that job and had a blast playing the crazy killer.

"So, as things progressed, I claimed my revenge a few years later only they did it to me again and it ended with me driving a semi off a cliff. I had a lot of fun with the two of them. The older man, Thornton eventually retired from active duty and the other, MacGyver, was quite smart. Constantly coming back from the dead drove him up the wall."

"You mean you kept going after him? And he’s still alive?" That was quite a feat.

"Well, after the first few times, I wasn’t really trying to kill him. I just wanted to see what he’d do. And it was quite funny, really. I got to set up all these elaborate death traps and lure him in. One involved a dungeon, a beautiful young lady in a cage and MacGyver charging to the rescue. When I was swimming out of the pool through the grate, I kept laughing and inhaling lung-fulls of water. I left the leg braces behind as a momento for him." He shook his head at the memory and looked at me. Knowing what I’d learned about Father, I could almost picture the whole scene. I was softly giggling in my chair.

Then Father started to go into more details of some of his plots to do in this poor guy. I felt kinda sorry from him and he sounded like a nice guy, but I was still laughing my head off with an arm over my aching stomach muscles by the time Father finished. And then it was getting late, Fox would show up soon and Father had some business to take care of. After an admonition to take care, he was off.

I was alone again, but I didn’t mind. I puttered around a bit while waiting for Fox to show up. I cleared off the table and put away what I could. I was annoyed that I had to keep sitting down to catch my breath. I must have lost a fair bit of blood to be this tired.

By the time Fox showed up, the place was looking more normal. I’d discovered the sound system still worked, along with half of the speakers, so I had some soft music playing and most of the clutter had since been cleaned up. He looked around him and nodded appreciatively, his face brightening considerably as I smiled in welcome.

"You’ve been busy."

"It was something I could do and yes," I could already see the question building in his eyes. "I took it easy."

"I just wanted to see that you were okay before I left." He looked a bit sheepish and I guess he was still feeling guilty over having to leave.

"I’m fine."

"And I also wanted to give you my number so you can get a hold of me when you want." He pulled a sheet of paper out of his pocket and handed it over. "My cell number in on the top, that’s the best way to reach me. My home and work number are underneath it. Scully’s cell is there as well; if you can’t get a hold of me, she probably can. I also put down Mom’s number, although you might want to wait until I had a chance to talk to her. I have my email there, as well as a few others that if you’re ever in trouble and you can’t find me or Scully, try them."

"Fox." I had tried to interrupt earlier, but he hadn’t even paused for a breath.

"Yes." He looked up from where he was pointing out the various numbers.

"I’ll be fine and I’ll keep in touch."

"I just want to make sure that if you even needed to, you could get a hold of me, just in case anything happens."

"Yes mother," I deadpanned. He took the hint and changed the subject.

"What are you going to do now?"

"I’m not sure. But I’ll let you know as soon as I do. And Fox?" I quickly stepped forward and gave him a hug, but I pulled away just as quickly, still unsure of myself. "Thanks."

"For what?"

"For not getting mad at me when I didn’t tell you where I was. I should have told you what I was doing. But. . . "

"It’s okay," he interrupted. "I have a tendency of doing the same thing to Scully. She’s been hounding me about it ever since last night." He looked a little embarrassed as he made his confession.

"Thanks anyway." I was starting to turn into a watering pot again. I sniffled and swiped at my red eyes. I wasn’t the only one but neither of us would actually admit it.

"I’ve got to get going, but I’ll call you as soon as I get to Washington."

"Okay." I walked with him to the door. "Take it easy and don’t let the aliens suck your brain out. You don’t have enough to loose."

Epilogue

I watched from behind the bar as the new band set up on stage. It had taken a while, but I’d managed to buy the bar. It turned out that along with the gear Father was holding for me, there was a bank card and the associated paper work. I wasn’t stinking rich, but I was well enough off that I could buy the bar out right.

Joe’s will left everything to the Watchers and they sold the bar soon after his death. With some computer hacking and creative accounting, I soon became the proud owner of Joe’s bar; through a half dozen holding companies and leaving a paper trail that is hopefully sending the Center, and whoever else was looking for me, around the bend and back again.

I wasn’t able to stick around much, but with the help of Russ, who was one of the bartenders, and Duncan the place was looking good. The new bar was the first thing to come in and soon after that everything else was put to rights. I kept the name and hung Joe’s guitar on the wall near the stage. I could have stayed in the open and reclaimed my name, but that would be a bit like hanging a blinking neon sign with an arrow pointing straight at me. Instead, I moved around with Father, or I should say Micheal, and spent my time recovering.

Any time I’m in town I get together with Duncan and we spar. With my knee now healed, we’re almost a match. He’s even teaching me a little fencing. As for Richie, he’s been out traveling where the wind blows him. I see him every once in a while and then he’s off on the next adventure. Last I heard he was into freehand rock climbing.

I keep in touch with Fox, calling regularly and sending out e-mail. I got a few new Internet accounts and with the help of some friends of Fox, updated all the software and such on the laptop. I was by no means a computer guru, but with the upgrades I could pretty much find out what I wanted. Well, not everything; I couldn’t crack into anything too heavily protected. Those friends of Fox could. I was introduced to them when I was in Washington over Christmas. The Lone Gunmen were weird, but they could find just about anything and they’ve been helping us.

While I was there, I had a chance to meet Mom. She cried on my shoulder for almost an hour and then we sat and talked. I didn’t tell her everything, but I let her know I was back and that I had no intentions of going anywhere. She’s a hard woman to get to know, but we got along and she regularly writes me letters and sends them to Duncan until I have a chance to pick them up. Sometimes I even answer them. I usually just phone.

The band was finished setting up and started their sound check. They wouldn’t start playing until at least nine, but they wanted to be set up before people started showing up. I patiently waited through the squawks and squeals, then smiled as they started up with a practice song. It was a band from Vancouver that was more alternative than Blues, but they played a number of ballads that while not traditional in sound, had the same feeling. I went back to my mental musing.

I was doing more than just hiding from the Center. Fox was checking things out from the official end where he could, while his friends have been visiting the Center’s network and finding what they could. They’ve also been trying to track Jarod down. I haven’t seen him since we fought at the Dojo. I know the Center hasn’t captured him, but other than that, I don’t know where he’s gone. For some reason, it eats away at me. I try to tell myself that I don’t really care, but I worry anyway.

I was interrupted from my thoughts as the door opened and a dark figure stepped in. I knew in an instant who it was.

"Hi Father." I grinned as I said that, knowing it would drive him up the wall.

"Hello Sam. Ready?" He didn’t fall for it. I nodded to Russ, who was going to look after the bar for me for the next few weeks, and grabbed my bag.

"Ready and willing." I’d been wanting to do this for a while, but had to wait until my arm and leg healed. The Center had answers and now, we were going to get them.

***

End Note as of April 2000

I’M DONE!!!! This one was a beast to finish. First off, a major case of writer’s block, followed by a writer’s splurge on the next book, so this one was put on the back burner, with half finished paragraphs and trailing sentences. Editing this one was a nightmare. I think that took more time than it did to write in the first place. I have to say though, that it was worth it cause it turned out better than I thought it would. The ending, anyway. I must say I was most impressed rereading it to put up here. It’s still got its rough spots though.

Well, if you’re still with me, I hope you enjoyed the ride. The next installment, called Center of Attention, is finished, though the last part, Governing Bodies, isn’t. If you feel the sudden urge to comment I can be reached at the address below. Flames will just count against you in the afterlife, so do yourself a favor and don’t flame me ;-) Constructive critiques are always welcome, and mindless acclimation will be gladly poured over, read multiple times and sustain me through the dry periods between stories.