"Legacy"
by Andra Marie Mueller


DISCLAIMER: “The X Files” is the legal property of Chris Carter, Ten Thirteen Productions, 20th Century Fox, etc.  But they wouldn’t recognize their characters in my world anyway ;)

AUTHOR’S NOTE: This is a sequel to my story “Reunion” and involves alternate character and plot histories established therein.  Some original dialogue was taken from the 9th season episode “John Doe” written by Vince Gilligan. Thanks to Shea for feedback and friendship :)

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

“When the storm has swept by, the wicked are gone, but the righteous stand firm forever.”
- Proverbs 10:25

PROLOGUE - FALLS CHURCH, VIRGINIA

Pulling into his driveway, John Doggett was surprised to find his wife Jessica’s Expedition already there. Knowing she was supposed to be in a meeting with her captain until later that evening, he wondered why she was home early.

Maybe the meetin’ ran shorter than she expected, he mused silently.

The Doggetts had been remarried for almost sixteen months, their reunion having been initiated eighteen months ago when Jessica had reentered John’s life to tell him about the death of her brother and his best friend, Scott Caldwell. The subsequent investigation into his death had uncovered the long buried secret that she was in actuality Christina Mulder, the sister of his sometime partner Fox Mulder. They discovered that she had been kidnapped as an infant and sold to the Caldwell family by Carl Spender, and it was this revelation that had prompted Scott’s murder. Yet despite their rocky road to starting over, Jessica and John were closer than ever, and she and Mulder had developed a strong brother sister bond.

Making his way to the front door, Doggett was greeted by a cacophony of barking from the couple’s dogs, an extra large pair of Saint Bernards named Spooky and Semper Fi. “Hey, guys,” he greeted as he entered the house, and swung the door shut behind him as he reached down to give each dog a friendly pat.  “Hey, Jess; you home?”

“In the kitchen,” came her response.

Ignoring the dogs’ bid for further attention, Doggett headed into the kitchen and discovered Jessica pouring champagne into one of the crystal flutes they had received as a wedding present the year before.  “Hi, sweetheart,” he greeted, and crossed over to stand beside her. “What’s with the champagne?”

“We are celebrating, Sunshine,” Jessica declared, and handed him his glass before giving him a hearty kiss.

“I’ll take another one of those kisses instead of the champagne,” Doggett said dryly, “but I am curious as to the occasion.”

Jessica merely shot him a mysterious smile as she poured plain orange juice into her glass.  “What happens when you cross an independent Democratic former debutante turned police lieutenant with a stubborn yet highly honorable Republican ex-Marine and street cop turned FBI agent?”

“A politically challenged ass kicker that looks good in a dress?” Doggett prompted wryly.

“Not quite, and in actuality there are two possible answers.”

“Which are?”

Her smiled widened. “A boy, or a girl.”

Doggett’s ice blue eyes widened with shock, and he nearly dropped his glass.  “You’re pregnant?” he asked in a near whisper.

Jessica nodded.  “Almost three months.”

He shifted his gaze downward and ever so slowly extended his free hand to place it on her still flat stomach.   “Is everything okay?”

“Yes.  I saw Doctor Barnes this afternoon and he says I’ll have to come in once a month for check-ups, and reduce my workload by at least half, but as long as I don’t subject myself to undue physical or emotional stress I should have no problems carrying the baby to term.”

He lifted his gaze back to hers.  “We’re really having a baby,” he said in wonderment.

“Yes, we are.”

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

SOMEWHERE IN THE MEXICAN DESERT

“I have news.”

“Which is?”

“Word has come in from our source in Virginia that Lieutenant Doggett has conceived.”

“Excellent. Now we can begin the next phase. Make arrangements to have her brought here so we can monitor the pregnancy and instigate the testing on her fetus.”

“What of her husband?”

“Once Lieutenant Doggett is secure, inject him with a large dose of the serum and abandon him in Sangradura. By the time he awakens, Jessica Doggett will be out of his reach and he will have no memory of who he is.”

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

FBI HEADQUARTERS, WASHINGTON D.C.

Inside the office of Assistant Director Brad Follmer, Doggett stole a glance at his watch and made an attempt to look like he was paying at least partial attention to the younger man’s dressing down. He had met Follmer briefly in New York during the investigation into Luke’s death, and had recognized him when he had transferred from their field office a month before. With his innate smugness and holier than thou attitude, it was dislike at first sight for the A.D. and the agents of the X files. The exception was Reyes, who had once been involved with Follmer and the two remained friends.

“The rules are in place for a reason, Agents, and can’t be bent or ignored whenever it suits you,” Follmer said.  “Are we clear on that?”

Mulder and Scully each managed a muffled “Yes, sir”, while Doggett remained stoically silent. His partners’ affirmative response seemed to pacify Follmer, however, and he gave them a forced smile.

“I’m glad we understand each other.”

Just then there was a knock at the door and at Follmer’s invitation to enter, his secretary took a step inside.  “Excuse the interruption, sir, but Agent Doggett’s wife is here,” she told them.

Doggett glanced at Follmer. “Are we done here?” he prompted.

“For the moment.”

The agent wordlessly rose to his feet and exited the office, followed a moment later by Mulder and Scully.  Follmer had never met Jessica - their paths had not crossed during Luke’s case. But having heard rumors of her extraordinary looks, he was more than a little curious to see if she lived up to her reputation.  Walking over to his office doorway, he glanced over to where she stood with the others and felt his stomach flip over.

She is unquestionably the most beautiful woman I have ever seen, he mused silently.

As if sensing his scrutiny, Jessica glanced over and spotted Follmer hovering in the doorway. “Who’s the pretty boy?” she asked.

“That’s Follmer,” Doggett told her.

The lieutenant recognized the name from the less than favorable description her husband had given when the younger man had first transferred to D.C.  “So that’s the new A.D.,” she mused.  “I guess he must have left his pitchfork at home.”

“Very funny, sweetheart.”

By this time Follmer had walked over to join them and kept his attention focused on Jessica as he addressed Doggett. “Agent Doggett, I don’t believe I’ve had the pleasure of meeting your lovely wife,” he replied pointedly.

Scully and Mulder exchanged an amused glance at the expression of near disgust that flickered across Doggett’s face, which Jessica missed as she introduced herself.  “Lieutenant Jessica Doggett,” she offered. “Nice to meet you, Mister Follmer.”

“Likewise, Lieutenant.”

The two exchanged a handshake as Doggett placed his hand on the small of Jessica’s back, and shifted it slightly to settle on her hip. On the surface it was a simple display of affection. But in the unspoken language known to every male over fifteen, it was a gesture of intimate possessiveness and was clearly a signal to Follmer that Jessica belonged to Doggett. The action was not lost on Mulder, and after they had excused themselves from Follmer and started for the elevator, he called him on it.

“You know, John,” he began casually, “if you’re going to go into testosterone overload every time other men admire your wife, you should just buy her a shirt that says ‘Property of John Doggett’.”

“I just might do that, Mulder,” Doggett responded dryly. “Thanks for suggestin’ it.”

Jessica and Scully exchanged knowing looks at the men’s banter before the latter asked, “So how are you feeling? Did you finally manage to shake that stomach flu?”

Jessica exchanged a look with Doggett. Given Jessica’s previous miscarriages, the couple had chosen to keep the news of her pregnancy a secret until she successfully passed the three-month mark.  So when she had lost her lunch during a shopping outing with her sister-in-law the weekend before, she had excused her volatile stomach by claiming to have the stomach flu.

“You might as well tell them,” Doggett said, “cuz you’re terrible at keepin’ secrets.”

“Tell us what?” Mulder prompted.

“I didn’t have the stomach flu last weekend,” Jessica revealed. “I’m pregnant.”

It took almost thirty seconds for the announcement to register, and when it did Scully and Mulder both broke into delighted grins.

“That’s wonderful!” Scully exclaimed, and quickly embraced Jessica and Doggett. “Congratulations, to both of you.”

“Thank you.”

Mulder hugged his sister as well before exchanging a handshake with his brother-in-law.  “So when is the little Doggett going to make his or her appearance?” he asked.

“Depending on the timing, we could be having a baby for Christmas,” Jessica answered.

“Are you going to find out what you’re having ahead of time?” Scully asked.

Doggett shook his head. “All that matters is that Jess and the baby both stay healthy,” he replied.

“Amen to that,” Mulder said.  “This calls for a celebratory dinner.”

“We’ll have to take a rain check on that,” Jessica said.  “Sarah’s working the night shift tonight and Cameron’s spending the night with a friend, so John and I are babysitting Eric and Kim.”

“Well apparently you can use the practice now,” Mulder replied dryly.

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

The truck parked in the shadows half a block away from the Doggett home easily blended in with the blackness of the night.  Unnoticed, the occupants watched in silent anticipation as Jessica and John exited their respective cars and retreated into their house. Once they were inside, the driver of the truck glanced at his companions.

“It’s time,” he said.  “We’ll have to neutralize the dogs first before we can get inside.  Is the tranquilizer gun ready?”

“Yes,” one of the others answered.  “There are two darts with enough drugs to knock an elephant to its knees.”

“What of the tranquilizer for Lieutenant Doggett?”

“Also ready to go.”

“And the serum for Agent Doggett?”

“The syringe is filled to capacity, so a direct injection into his neck will deliver it to his brain within sixty seconds and he’ll be unconscious for several hours. When he awakens, he’ll have no memory and his wife will be safely out of reach.”

“Then let’s get to it. Make certain that Lieutenant Doggett remains unharmed at all costs. If something happens to her or her unborn child, we’ll be signing our own death warrants.”

The others nodded in silent agreement and exited the van.

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

Some time later, Mulder and Scully were at her mother’s with Will enjoying a family dinner when Mulder’s cell phone rang. Excusing himself, he crossed the living room to where his coat hung over the back of a chair and retrieved the phone from his pocket.

“Fox Mulder.”

“Hi, Mulder, it’s Sarah Caldwell.”

“Good evening, Doctor. What can I do for you?”

“I was hoping you could tell me where Jessica and John are,” Sarah said. “They were supposed to be here to watch the kids almost an hour ago, but they haven’t shown up and neither of them is answering their cell phones.”

Alarm immediately raised the hair on the back of Mulder’s neck.  “I haven’t seen them since they left the office,” he replied, “but I’ll swing by the house and see if I can track them down. I’ll call you back as soon as I have some information.”

“Thanks, Mulder.”

Ending the call, Mulder replaced the phone in his coat before pulling it off the chair and slipping it on.

“What’s going on?” Scully asked.

“That was Sarah,” Mulder answered.  “Jessica and John never showed up to get the kids and she can’t reach them on their cell phones. I’m going to go by the house and see if I can find out where they disappeared to.”

“I’ll come with you.”

Rising to her feet, Scully placed a kiss on the top of her son’s head and she and Mulder bid her mother farewell before heading out.

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

FALLS CHURCH

Arriving at the Doggett home, Mulder and Scully discovered Jessica’s Expedition parked in the driveway, with John’s truck parked behind it.  Climbing out of his car, Mulder glanced at his wife.

“They couldn’t have gotten very far without cars,” he remarked.

“Unless they were taken somewhere against their will,” Scully countered.

The two withdrew their guns and cautiously approached the house.  Stepping onto the porch, they discovered the front door was slightly ajar, but the lock was intact and there was no sign of forced entry.  Using his body weight, Mulder slowly pushed the door open and leveled his gun in front of him as he and Scully stepped inside.  Jessica’s purse and John’s overcoat were tossed haphazardly on the couch, and the kitchen lights were on. The dogs were conspicuously absent as well, all but confirming the agents’ fear that Jessica and John had met with foul play.

Mulder glanced at Scully and used hand signals to indicate he was heading upstairs. The redhead nodded in silent acknowledgement and headed toward the back of the house as her partner made his way up the stairs.  At the top of the staircase, he glanced in either direction and spotted a light coming from within the master bedroom.  Keeping his gun cocked and ready, Mulder carefully made his way down the hall and reaching the room, made his way through and into the bathroom, before returning to stand beside the bed.  It was then that he noticed a small, empty syringe laying on the floor, and he knelt down to carefully pick it up by the edges.

“Mulder?”

He glanced over his shoulder to see Scully standing in the doorway. “Any sign of John and Jessica?” he asked.

“No, but I found Spooky and Semper Fi in the backyard,” Scully said, and came over to stand beside him. “As far as I can tell they’ve been drugged, but they’re still alive.”

Mulder held up the syringe. “That seems to be the m.o. for the evening,” he remarked, and handed the syringe to Scully as he pulled his cell phone out of his coat. Punching in a number, he waited impatiently for the call to be answered, and Reyes picked up on the third ring.  “Monica Reyes.”

“Monica, its Mulder.  I’m over at John and Jessica’s and we’ve got trouble. I need you to get over here ASAP and bring the cavalry with you.”

“What’s happened?” Reyes asked.

“That’s what we need to find out.”

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

SANGRADURA, MEXICO - TWELVE HOURS LATER

It was the pain that finally woke him. A dull, insistent throbbing just behind his temples at last overrode the drugs in his system and brought Doggett to wakefulness.  Blinking a couple of times to clear his vision, he took a cursory survey of his surroundings. The first thing he noticed was the skinny Hispanic man removing his left sneaker.

“What the hell…?” he muttered. “What are you doin’?”

The man’s head jerked up at the sound of Doggett’s voice, and he gave him a brief ‘deer in the headlights’ look of panic before yanking off the shoe and bolting.

“Hey, come back here you damn thief!”

Scrambling to his feet, Doggett took off after the shoe thief, belatedly recognizing his location as the inside of an abandoned warehouse.  Tiny slivers of light filtered in through cracks in the wall, and the garbage strewn floors were coated with unpleasant and unidentifiable aromas.   Seeing the other man disappear around the corner, he increased his speed to catch up with him, only to suddenly find himself outside in the full brightness of day.

It took a moment for his eyes to adjust to the glare, and once they had he realized he was basically in the middle of nowhere. The unpaved streets were lined with claustrophobically close buildings, none more that two stories high. Clotheslines bearing drying laundry connected every other abode, and a small pack of stray dogs wandered the streets. There were signs plastered to some of the buildings, but after a moment Doggett realized they were all in Spanish.

“Where the hell am I?” he wondered aloud.

Just then he spotted the man who had stolen his shoe, leaning against a pole some twenty feet away as he sized Doggett’s shoe against the bottom of his own.

“Hey!”

The man bolted at Doggett’s shout and the chase was on again.  Even sans his shoe and with the distance between them, the ex-Marine was in far better shape than his adversary, and two minutes later he finally caught him.  The thief frantically tried to defend himself, but Doggett grabbed his shirt collar and slammed him against a lamp post.

“Give me back my shoe, asshole!” he snarled.

The thief responded in rapidly muttered Spanish, and suddenly noticing something behind Doggett, began to yell.

“Policia! Ayude!”

Doggett glanced over his shoulder to see a Mexican police car pull up at the curb. Two uniformed officers climbed out of the car and made their way to where the other men stood, unholstering their nightsticks as they approached.  Doggett immediately released the man and held up his hands in a gesture of appeasement.

“It’s just a misunderstandin’ officers - I’m the victim here. Yo soy victima. This guy ripped me off - stole my shoe. Look - mine.”

He held out the newly reclaimed sneaker, which the first officer confiscated and then dropped into the gutter. The policeman held out his nightstick and used it to separate Doggett and the thief.  A sudden sense of dread settled in Doggett’s stomach and he wisely fell silent.  The second officer pulled the thief aside and began to give him instructions in Spanish, while the first officer spoke to Doggett, also speaking Spanish.

“Eras Americano?” the officer asked.

Doggett ignored the question as he asked one of his own.  “Where am I?”

“Tienes tus papeles?”

Doggett was uncertain of what the officer was saying to him, and the sound of a loud “oomph” caused him to glance over the second officer and the thief. As the thief doubled over in pain from the nightstick blow to his gut, the officer pocketed what few pesos he had. The first officer snapped his fingers in Doggett’s ear to regain his attention, and Doggett shifted to face him again.

“Do you have any papers?” the policeman asked in English.  “Visa, passport?”

Doggett checked the pockets of his jeans, not sure what he was looking for but finding nothing, and he shook his head.  The second officer joined them then, and began to pat Doggett down.  The first policeman kept his nightstick pressed to Doggett’s chest to prevent any protest.

“Como te llamas?” the officer asked, then switched to English. “What is your name?”

It took a moment for Doggett to realize that he was unable to answer the question.

“I don’t know…” he responded, confusion etched in his expression.

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

CALABOZO MUNICIPAL POLICE STATION

Following his run-in with the shoe thief and the policemen, Doggett had been taken to what passed for the county jail, about half an hour’s drive from where he had woken up.  After being deposited into a cell with a dozen other men, most of whom smelled as foul as they looked, the police had basically forgotten about him.  Already frustrated over his apparent memory loss and the theft of his shoe, Doggett decided he wasn’t going to just sit quietly and rot away. Untying his remaining shoe, he rose to his feet and walked over to the bars and began banging his shoe against the cold metal.

“Hey, guard!” he shouted. “Somebody come here! Andale! Come here!”

He paused a moment, but when his shouting was ignored he resumed the banging and shouted louder.  The increase in volume still elicited no response from the guards, but it was, however, becoming annoying to the men around him.  As the sole Anglo in a foreign prison with no memory of who he was or how he got there, he decided it was best not to press his luck and reluctantly retreated to his corner of the cell.  Leaning over to slide his shoe back onto his foot, he heard the sound of easy laughter, and glanced toward the source to find a heavyset Hispanic man of perhaps forty watching him in obvious amusement.

“Somethin’ funny?” Doggett snapped.  “Yo soy ha-ha?”

The man gestured at Doggett’s feet as he answered in accented English. “Nice touch - putting your one shoe back on again.”

Doggett knew the man had a point - it was rather useless. But sheer obstinacy made him finish tying it anyway. “So maybe I like to hop,” he said.  “You speak English. Why didn’t you say somethin’ before?”

“You weren’t funny before,” the man responded.

Doggett shook his head.  “So where are we? What’s the name of this place?”

“The jail?” the man prompted.

“The town,” Doggett clarified. “I want to know the name of the town.”

“Sangradura.”

“Mexico?”

“Yes, Mexico,” the other man confirmed, and gave him a small smile.  “If you don’t remember, you must have had one fine time getting here.”

Somehow Doggett doubted that was true.

“What’s your name?” the man asked, and at Doggett’s look muttered, “Damn. You don’t know that either, huh?  I’ll call you One Shoe. Senor Un Zapato.”

Doggett’s new title earned the heavyset man a chuckle from their cellmates and he reveled in his brief moment before continuing. “What do you know, One Shoe?”

“I know I’m gettin’ the hell outta here,” Doggett declared.

“You got money to bribe the police? That’s what it takes. Is somebody putting it together for you?”

Doggett shook his head.  “I just need to get to a phone,” he said. “I need to call the U.S. Embassy.”

“Yeah, they can get you home I guess,” the big man allowed. “Where is home?” No answer. “Know what I think? I think maybe getting home is not in your best interest.”

“How’s that?”

“This isn’t Tijuana or Cabo, One Shoe. We don’t see Americans in this town unless they’re on the run from something, or somebody.  In this town, people like you come here to disappear.”

“’People like me’?” Doggett echoed. “You don’t know me.”

“You don’t know you, verdad?”

Doggett glared at him, and the big man shrugged, not trying to offend him.

“I’m just saying that maybe they call the Embassy and then they take you out of this broken down jail and deposit you into a shiny American prison,” he said.  “For your sake you’d better hope that somebody notices you’re missing and wants you found.”

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

Feeling as if she had been trampled by a herd of elephants, Jessica slowly regained consciousness inside an empty room.  Still foggy from the drugs, it took a moment for the unfamiliar surroundings to register, and once they did the memory of her abduction returned in a rush.

I was kidnapped, she recalled.  I heard the dogs barking and went outside to check on them, then two men grabbed me from behind as a third injected me with something to knock me out.

Glancing down at her arm, she discovered a faint bruise marking the spot where the needle had pierced her skin, but aside from being sore all over she appeared to be unharmed.

I just hope whatever they shot me up with didn’t harm the baby, she mused in anxious silence, and momentarily placed her hand over her stomach as a protective gesture toward her unborn child.

Easing herself to a sitting position, she took a cursory glance around the room, finding it bare of any adornment and devoid of any communication devices such as a phone or intercom.  Tossing aside the bedcovers, she carefully climbed out of bed, noting in passing that her wedding rings and the small cross she wore on a chain around her neck were still in place, but her clothes had been removed and she was dressed in a plain cotton nightshirt that fell to her knees. The tiled floor was cold beneath her bare feet, but she ignored the sensation as she walked over to the window on the far wall.  Peering outside, she saw nothing but empty, unpaved streets and ramshackle buildings crowded together.
 
“At least they could have given me a room with a view,” she quipped aloud.

The sound of a key turning in the door pulled her attention away from the window and she turned expectantly as a man she did not recognize entered the room. He appeared to be in his mid-forties, with almost white blond hair and dark green eyes that offset his tanned skin. “Good afternoon, Lieutenant,” he greeted, his voice laced with an accent that was neither British nor German but somewhere in between.  “I’m glad to see you have awakened.”

“No thanks to whatever you drugged me with,” came her angry retort.

“I assure you that the tranquilizer you were given did not pose any danger to your unborn child.”

“Where’s my husband?” Jessica demanded, secretly relieved at his assurance about the drugs, but unwilling to confirm his belief that she was with child.

“Someplace where he is no longer of any concern to me,” came the evasive reply.

“Is he dead?”

“I don’t know, nor do I care. I have what I want and neither Agent Doggett nor anyone else can take you from me.”

That remains to be seen, she countered silently. Aloud she said, “Since you obviously know who I am, perhaps you would return the courtesy and provide me with your name.”

“You may call me Dieter.”

“Your name and your accent seem to indicate you’re German.”

“Once upon a time,” Dieter allowed.

 “I’d be interested to know how you managed to abduct me out of my own home without arousing any suspicion.”

“I am a man of many resources,” Dieter responded.  “You certainly would not have come willingly; therefore your abduction was the means to an end. Or a beginning, as the case may be.”

“Beginning of what?”

“So many questions, Lieutenant; if you’re going to interrogate me aren’t you supposed to read me my rights?”

The beautiful blonde flashed him a smile devoid of warmth.  “My genteel Southern upbringing prevents me from telling you what you can do with your rights,” she answered.

Dieter chuckled at that.  “I see you share your brother’s off beat sense of humor,” he remarked.  “That should prove to be most entertaining.”

How does he know Fox? she wondered silently.  To Dieter she said, “You certainly don’t seem to have any qualms about answering my questions. Aren’t you worried about it being used against you?”

“If you are intimating that you expect to eventually be rescued and then be able to use what I tell you to apprehend me, I’m afraid you are in for a disappointment,” Dieter replied.  “I have gone to great lengths to assure that neither your husband, your brother, nor your fellow police officers will be able to track me down.  And allow me to forewarn you, Lieutenant; even if by some miracle you did manage to escape me, the price will paid in blood.”

“If you wanted me dead I all ready would be,” Jessica countered.

“Perhaps, but you have a brother, three nephews and a charming young niece. I would certainly regret having to kill one of them should you decide to regain your freedom.”

Jessica’s eyes flashed blue fire.  “If you so much as look at any of them the wrong way it will be the last mistake you ever make,” she warned icily.

“Idle threats from a prisoner,” Dieter returned. “I will be sending in a physician to examine you and verify that your child has not suffered any ill effects from the tranquilizers. Afterward you will be escorted to a small bathroom down the hall to shower and clothing will be waiting for you there. Once you have finished you my join me for lunch in the main dining room.”

“You make it sound like I’m spending the weekend at the Ritz,” Jessica remarked.  “Why such hospitality?”

“I am merely ensuring that your current circumstances do not jeopardize the life you carry,” Dieter answered.

“That’s the third time you’ve inferred that I’m pregnant,” she replied.  “I don’t recall telling you anything of the sort.”

“I am well aware you are with child, Lieutenant. That is the reason you are here. However, if you insist on pretending otherwise, I can have my physician examine you himself to confirm it, and I assure you, you will find his ‘methods’ most unpleasant.”

Jessica was unable to hide the brief shadow of fear that flickered across her face, and Dieter flashed her a knowing smile. “I am glad we understand one another,” he said. “A great deal is riding on your unborn child, Lieutenant, and I intend to make certain that my father’s mistakes of forty-one years ago are not repeated.”

Without giving her a chance to respond, Dieter exited the room, leaving the lieutenant alone to ponder his final remark.

I intend to make certain my father’s’ mistakes of forty-one years ago are not repeated.

“Who in the world is his father?” Jessica wondered aloud.

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

Two days later, Jessica was sequestered in a large suite inside what at first glance appeared to be a large palace. Following her doctor’s exam upon awakening, one of Dieter’s cohorts - a woman who all but wore a sign that said ‘back off’ - had escorted her to the bathroom where she had showered and changed into the clothes provided for her before being taken down a nondescript staircase and led into a formal dining room. There she had managed to eat a small meal before the morning sickness and her anxiety over her imprisonment had curbed her appetite.  After a brief conversation with Dieter, the other woman had disappeared as mysteriously as she had arrived and two of Dieter’s men had tied her hands and blindfolded her before escorting her outside and placing her in the back of a large truck.  An hour’s drive had brought them to a private estate, where Dieter’s men had freed her hands and removed her blindfold before depositing her in the large suite.  It resembled a luxury hotel room; a king sized bed with a mahogany headboard and matching nightstand encompassed the far corner of the room, while adjacent to the nightstand was a small dresser full of woman’s clothing and a small television rested on top. Next to the room’s entrance was an oversized bathroom, complete with full shower and bath and running water.  A small window in the far wall overlooked nothing but desert sand, yet it was the only reason her confinement had not triggered her claustrophobia.

Since then Jessica’s only contact with another person had been her nearly non-existent interaction with the guard who delivered her meals.  It made little sense to her that Dieter had gone to such great lengths to abduct her, only to abandon her in this underground suite, and her curiosity warred with anger over her situation.

Swatting at a fly would take more effort than he’s given to dealing with me, she mused irritably.

As if on cue, the door opened and her guard stepped inside the room.  “Mister Stuckhold will see you now,” he announced.

The revelation of her captor’s surname immediately registered with Jessica.  So good old Dieter is the son of the man who rearranged my DNA forty-one years ago, she deduced.  Scrambling my cells seems to be the family tradition.

The lieutenant wordlessly followed her guard out of the room and was led down a long corridor to the elevator, where they rode up to the previous level and the door opened to admit them into a large laboratory.  A group of people she assumed to be scientists was busy with various experiments and paid them no heed as the guard escorted Jessica past them and through a set of double doors.

I don’t think I want to know what that lab is doing here, she thought anxiously.

Another trek down an empty corridor led them to a steel door, with a small keypad on the left side that served as the computerized lock.  The guard swiftly entered a code and the door slid aside to reveal a large area resembling an office, and it was clearly the epicenter of the complex.  Dieter was seated at the far end of the room behind a desk, and rose to his feet when Jessica and the guard approached.

“Good morning, Lieutenant,” he greeted. “I trust you’re finding your quarters comfortable?”

“I’d be more comfortable in my own home,” Jessica retorted.

Dieter ignored the jibe.  “I apologize for taking so long to have you brought to me, but I needed to make certain everything was in place.”

I don’t like the sound of that, she mused uneasily. Aloud she said, “I don’t know what you’re planning but I’m serving notice now that I have no intention of going along with your little scheme.”

“That’s not your choice to make, Lieutenant,” Dieter countered.  “Your stay here can be as easy or as difficult as you want it to be.  Should you cooperate with my staff, your family will remain alive and well, and in approximately five months you will give birth to the beginnings of the next generation of what my father affectionately called ‘super babies’.  If, however, you attempt to interfere with our work or hinder the testing in any way, someone you love will pay the price. Eventually you yourself will be eradicated and the child you carry will be raised as I see fit.”

“What exactly is it that you plan to do to me?”

“Forty-one years ago, our fathers began a project with Carl Spender to manipulate the DNA sequence of unborn fetuses by injecting them with specialized DNA during certain developmental stages to produce ‘super babies’. Infants with enhanced intelligence, emotional aptitude, physical appearance and abilities. It was their contention that these experiments would eventually lead to the elimination of birth defects and diseases, and give Humans the edge they needed to win the battle against the alien bounty hunters and their super soldiers.  Yet even with their combined resources, the limited medical technologies of the time hindered their research to the extent that 99.9 % of the fetuses did not survive to term, or were stillborn.”

“Except for me.”

“Exactly, which is why it is vital that we resume the experiments with the child you carry.”

“You’re insane if you think I’m just going to sit back and smile while you poke and prod at my baby for the next five months,” Jessica snapped.

Dieter flashed her a smile, but the gesture was devoid of warmth.  “I have assembled some of the most brilliant scientific minds money can buy, Lieutenant, and should you decline to acquiesce to our research, you will spend the next five months on medication that while harmless to your child, will ensure you are in no condition to protest.”

Something in his tone told Jessica he was deadly serious, and she felt an icy shiver go down her spine.  God help me, she pleaded. Don’t let him do this to my baby.

Seeing her expression, Dieter’s smile widened.  “I’m glad we understand one another.”

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

FBI HEADQUARTERS

Three days later there was still no sign of Jessica or Doggett.  Mulder was having the Gunmen run a trace on the drugs found at their home in the hopes of finding their source and the person or persons responsible for taking Jessica.  In the meantime, the agents of the X files had gathered in Skinner’s office, and along with the A.D. and Brad Follmer, were trying to figure out the motive behind the  abductions.

“Do you have any idea who might have a reason to kidnap Agent Doggett and your sister, Agent Mulder?” Skinner asked.

Mulder snorted.  “Jessica’s a cop and John’s a federal agent, Assistant Director,” he reminded him. “Their list of enemies is longer than the bill for the National Debt.”

“Mulder…” Scully admonished.

“At the risk of pointing out the obvious,” Follmer interjected, “there is one scenario you’re all overlooking.”

“And what’s that?” Mulder prompted.

The blond A.D. glanced at him. “I’m curious, Agent Mulder; just how much money is your sister worth?”

“Excuse me?”

“It’s common knowledge that Lieutenant Doggett comes from a very wealthy family. As the presumed beneficiary of her will, Agent Doggett stands to inherit a great deal of money, somewhere in the neighborhood of fifty million dollars according to my sources.  We both know people have been killed for less.”

“You’re out of line, Brad!” Reyes exclaimed.

“Am I? I don’t think so.”

Mulder’s gaze turned to ice. “If you got something to say, Assistant Director, just say it.”

“Frankly Agent Mulder I find it very convenient that your sister and Agent Doggett disappeared without a trace and yet were evidently uninjured,” Follmer remarked. “There were no witnesses and no signs of forced entry, and there’s been no evidence to support your story that she was indeed kidnapped.”

Mulder snorted.  “Are you seriously suggesting that John killed Jessica?” he asked incredulously.

“If the shoe fits,” the younger man allowed.

Follmer’s thinly veiled accusation snapped Mulder’s thin hold on his temper and before anyone could react he crossed over to Follmer and struck him dead center in the face, knocking him to the ground.  Skinner quickly stepped in front of him to prevent him from assaulting Follmer again and Reyes reluctantly helped the Assistant Director to his feet.  Completely furious, Mulder struggled against Skinner’s restraining hold as he glared at Follmer.

“You can take that shoe and shove it up your ass, you smug son of a bitch!” he snarled.

"I think we can safely rule out Agent Doggett as a suspect, Mister Follmer," Skinner said.  "And as of yet there's no evidence that this should be a murder investigation."

“What about the people who killed Scott Caldwell last year?” Reyes suggested. “Would they have any reason to return for Jessica?”

Scully frowned. “If they wanted Jessica they could have abducted her last year,” he replied.  “Why now?”

“Maybe they were waiting for a reason,” Skinner suggested.  “All of the publicity surrounding the murder of her brother may have forced them to wait.”

“If they were worried about public attention they would never have killed a Senator’s son,” Reyes pointed out.  “There has to be another reason why they were biding their time.” She glanced at Mulder. “Has anything happened recently that may have prompted them to take Jessica now?”

“Nothing out of the ordinary…” Mulder began.

“Nothing except the delivery they’re expecting for Christmas,” Scully interrupted pointedly.

Follmer, Skinner and Reyes exchanged confused looks as the meaning of Scully’s remark registered and Mulder’s eyes widened in sudden understanding.

“That’s exactly it!” he exclaimed.  “They took Jessica so they can pick up where they left off forty-one years ago with their damn tests.”

“They won’t hurt her, Mulder,” Scully assured him quickly. “That would defeat their purpose.”

“Would one of you please explain what you two are rambling about?” Skinner demanded.

Mulder was too upset by the new implications of his sister’s abduction to speak, so at Scully’s questioning look he gave a curt nod, and Scully shifted her gaze to Skinner’s.

“Jessica is pregnant,” she revealed, “so it’s highly likely that she was abducted to enable Spender and Stuckhold to continue their genetic manipulation on her unborn child. John was probably taken to avoid him interfering with their plans.”

“If they are the ones behind John and Jessica’s abduction, maybe you should enlist the help of one of their former conspirators in tracking them down,” Reyes suggested.

The others glanced at her questioningly, but Scully’s intuition told her whom Reyes was referring to.  “You think Senator Caldwell may know something about the abduction?” she prompted.

“Not specifically, no,” Reyes demurred, “but she was in league with these men once upon a time and she knows how they operate.  She may be able to give us some insight into where they took John and Jessica.”

“That’s a bit of a stretch, Monica,” Follmer countered.  “Elizabeth Caldwell certainly isn’t a candidate for Mother of the Year, but after what happened to her son last year I doubt she’d have anything to do with harm befalling Agent Doggett or his wife.”

“I beg to differ,” Mulder interjected.  “After what came to light about Elizabeth Caldwell eighteen months ago regarding her dealings with Spender, I wouldn’t put anything past her.”

“I agree with Mulder,” Scully said.  “A woman who is capable of lying to her own children for close to forty years and conspiring with kidnappers and murderers is probably capable of just about anything.”

“All right then,” Skinner conceded. “Go talk to Elizabeth Caldwell. But I’m certain I don’t need to remind all of you that whatever your suspicions are, she is still a United States Senator.  Please proceed with a little respect and a lot of discretion.”

“Discretion’s my middle name, sir,” Mulder responded dryly.

Skinner shot him a look that clearly said he was not amused and the trio started for the door.

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

SENATE BUILDING - WASHINGTON D.C.

Elizabeth Caldwell was in the midst of a preparing her speech for her impending Congressional address when her secretary called through on her private line. Wondering why she was being interrupted, she reached over to pick up the receiver.  “Yes, Sydney?”

“I apologize for the interruption, Senator, but there are two FBI agents here asking to speak with you,” Sydney said.

“Is one of them my son-in-law?” Elizabeth asked.

“No, Ma’am.”

“Send them in.”

The Senator pushed the draft of her speech aside as the door opened to admit Mulder and Scully, and Elizabeth rose to greet them.  She had not had any direct contact with the Doggetts or the FBI in eighteen months, and was more than a little curious about their presence.

“Agents,” she said simply. “What can I do for you?”

“Can you tell us where you were last night between the hours of six and seven o’clock?” Mulder asked.

“I was in a meeting with Senator Hallsworth and Congressmen Flowers and Burnett regarding a bill we are trying to get passed,” Elizabeth answered. “Why; did the Tooth Fairy fail to place a quarter under your son’s pillow and I need to account for my spare change?”

“Jessica and John were abducted last night, Senator,” Scully told her.  “Someone broke into their home and kidnapped them.”

The older woman paled visibly.  “Were they injured?”

“We don’t know for certain.”

“I really wish someone would explain to me why I’m always the last to know whenever my daughter’s life is jeopardized,” Elizabeth muttered, and lifted a hand to abort the reply she knew was on the tip of Mulder’s tongue.  “Spare me the sarcastic response, Agent Mulder; it was a rhetorical question. I am well aware that neither Jessica nor you consider me her mother.”

“We’re not here to reopen old wounds, Senator,” Scully replied. “We’re simply looking for answers that might help us figure out who took John and Jessica.”

“Given your involvement last time something like this happened,” Mulder added, “we thought we’d come over here and ask you a few questions.”

The Senator shot him a cold look. “Well I’m sorry to disappoint you, but I have no idea who abducted John and Jessica,” she snapped.  “Contrary to what you obviously believe, I don’t spend my time conspiring with criminals in order to disrupt their lives.”

Mulder shrugged. “If you say so,” he allowed. “Personally I’ve always found that old habits are the hardest to break.”

Elizabeth’s glare hardened as she glanced at Scully.  “I don’t appreciate your partner’s attitude, Agent Scully, or his implication that I am responsible for the latest calamity that has befallen Jessica and John. Now unless you intend to charge me with something, I’d like you both to leave.”

“Thank you for your time, Senator,” Scully acquiesced.

Scully placed a hand on Mulder’s arm, and the couple exited Elizabeth’s office.  As they walked back to their car, Scully addressed her husband’s behavior.

“You should know better than to antagonize her, Mulder,” she admonished.  “Like it or not, she is Jessica’s mother.”

“Any right she had to that title was abolished when we discovered what she did forty years ago,” Mulder countered.

“A secret that cost her the life of her son,” Scully reminded him.  “Whether she’s involved in the abduction or not, we’re not going to get anything out of her by constantly pouring salt in those wounds.”

“I’m well aware that you catch more flies with honey than vinegar, Scully.”

“Then try being a little sweeter to the Queen bee.”

He smiled. “Nice comeback.”

“I try.”

Meanwhile inside her office, Elizabeth had waited until Scully and Mulder were gone before picking up her phone and calling out.  After a second ring a masculine voice answered, “Griffin.”

“This is Elizabeth Caldwell.  I have a job for you.”

“I’m listening.”

“I need to know the current location of a man named Dieter Stuckhold, and if he’s responsible for the recent abduction of Jessica and John.”

“And if he is?”

“Then I want them rescued and Stuckhold taken care of, permanently.”

“Permanence is expensive, Senator. And rescue operations are not a one man operation.”

“I’ll have a deposit of a quarter of a million dollars transferred to your account within the next forty-eight hours,” Elizabeth responded. “I trust that will be sufficient to cover your costs. As for the rescue operation, I’m certain that as such a resourceful former Marine you can handle that yourself, especially given that it involves one of your own. When John and Jessica are returned alive and well, another quarter of a million will be deposited into your account the following day.”

“It’s a pleasure doing business with you, Senator.”

Elizabeth hung up the phone.

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

CALABOZO MUNICIPAL POLICE STATION

The sound of a cell door slamming in the distance brought Doggett to wakefulness with a startled jerk.  His week in the cell was beginning to take their toll, as evidence by the bags visible under his eyes and the weariness etched in his rugged features.  The early stages of a beard now covered his lower jaw, the seven day shadow barely a shade darker than the dirt and grim covering the rest of his face.  Ignoring his itching beard and throbbing head, Doggett slowly sat up just as the officer who had arrested him appeared at the cell door.

“Domingo Salmeron?” he called out.

The heavyset man who had dubbed Doggett ‘One Shoe” rose to his feet and addressed the man standing beside the policeman.  “Nestor, I was growing old in here,” he complained in Spanish.

“Lo siento,” Nestor apologized. “I worked as fast as I could. These things take time.”

Nestor slipped the officer beside him a fistful of pesos - obviously bribe money - and Domingo mimed a tip of the hat to the other prisoners. “Gentlemen, it’s been a pleasure.”

The policeman unlocked the door and stepped aside to allow Domingo to exit, and Doggett watched in silent frustration as the only person who spoke English walked out of the cell.  Halfway to the exit, Domingo paused, and glancing back at Doggett, questioned the officer escorting him out in Spanish.

“How much for the gringo? Expensive?”

“Not very,” the officer answered.  “Why, are you in love?”

Domingo smirked in mock amusement as Doggett made a valiant attempt to understand their conversation, and the heavyset man spoke to him. “Hey, One Shoe. Nobody’s coming for you, amigo. You want to hop out of here with me?”

Doggett shot him a suspicious glance, and seeing his wariness Domingo added, “I got a job for you.”

“What kind of job?”

“What the hell do you care?” Domingo countered.

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

Shortly thereafter, a sullen Nestor walked a foot behind Domingo and Doggett as the men made their way down the street.  Doggett had removed his shoe and tucked it under his arm, and was walking with the determined stride of a man on a mission. On his left, Domingo was taking deep breaths of air, happy to be free.

“We’ll be back just in time for dinner, One Shoe,” he said, and glanced at Doggett. “You work hard, maybe I’ll even buy you another shoe.”

Domingo grinned at his little joke, but Doggett ignored him. As they reached an old Ford Ranchero parked at the curb, Domingo and Nestor slowed their pace.

“Hey, right here,” Domingo called to Doggett.

Doggett stopped, and glanced back at them.  “Thanks. Some other time.”

He resumed his speed walk as the two Mexican men watched in disbelief, then quickly hurried to catch up with him.  Nestor put a hand on his shoulder, and Doggett spun around to face him.  “Keep your hands off me,” he warned icily.

“You’re bought and paid for, One Shoe, comprende?” Domingo demanded. “I own you like I own that car.”

Doggett gave them both an even stare, at the moment a man with nothing to lose and in no mood to play games.  “I’ll pay you back your money,” he responded.

“You don’t tell me what you’ll do. I tell you what you’ll do.”

Doggett shot him a look that clearly said “yeah, right” and turned to leave. Nestor immediately withdrew a .38 revolver and shoved it into Doggett’s shoulder, then cocked the hammer with an audible click.  Doggett slowly turned around, holding up his hands in mock surrender, and then suddenly reacted on some forgotten instinct. He swiftly clapped his hands together around Nestor’s wrist and bent it back to an unbearably painful angle, forcing the other man to his knees as he yanked the gun from his grasp.

How the hell did I do that? Doggett wondered to himself.

As Nestor cradled his injured wrist, Doggett met the simmering gaze of Domingo, who was clearly furious but not frightened.

“This makes one thing you know about yourself,” Domingo declared through gritted teeth.  “You’re not a man of your word.”

For some inexplicable reason the declaration bothered Doggett, but he let it go.  Picking up his shoe, he backed a few feet away and used his other hand to crack open the cylinder, letting the rounds clatter to the pavement.  Turning on his heel, he at last resumed his trek down the road, tossing the revolver into a nearby bush without looking back.  As Nestor climbed to his feet and followed an infuriated Domingo back to their car, a fourth man stepped out from the shadows, casting a quick glance in their direction before shifting his gaze to Doggett’s retreating form.

“Very impressive, Agent Doggett,” he muttered aloud, and withdrawing a cellular phone from his coat, quickly punched in a number.  A machine answered on the second ring, and at the beep, he spoke quietly and succinctly.  “This is Griffin.  Our subject has been located south of the border but he has no memory and his wife is MIA. I will attempt to make contact and determine where she is and how he lost his memory.  Have the team standing by to move within the next twenty-four to forty-eight hours.”

Ending the call, he replaced the phone inside his coat and faded back into the shadows.

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

Later that afternoon, Doggett had returned to the empty warehouse where he had first awakened, hoping against hope there would be something there to tell him who he was.  Walking across the floor, he came to a halt at the spot where he had been laying, and began prodding at the trash with his shoe.  Finding nothing of note, he knelt down and ran his palm through the layers of dust and grime, fervently praying he would find a speck of something to help restore the life he had lost.  To his dismay, and as expected, there was nothing to find.  A week’s worth of frustration and anger erupted from him then, and he went ballistic.  Spotting a pile of emptied, used packing crates, he walked over to where they were stacked and began kicking and punching them into oblivion.  The depth of rage within him was frightening, and bore no resemblance to the stoically controlled FBI agent he could not recall being.  After a few minutes his anger was spent, and he stood with his arms braced against the wall, breathing heavily and feeling the sting of tears of frustration in his eyes.

As he attempted to regain control of his temper, a voice suddenly called out from the other side of the wall.  “Hey, shut up over there!”

Doggett’s eyes widened as he recognized the voice of the man who had stolen his shoe a week before, and his features hardened as he made his way to him.  He found him seated in the corner of the adjacent room, leaning against a pole as he puffed away at a crack pipe, Doggett’s other shoe adorning his foot.  His eyes closed in narcotic rapture, he neither saw nor heard Doggett’s approach, and when he opened his eyes, he was unprepared to see his nemesis standing less than a foot in front of him.

“That fit good?” Doggett asked evenly. “Mi zapato?”

“No, no -“

Doggett grabbed his shirt collar and hauled him to his feet before slamming him against the pole.  “What else of mine you got?” he demanded.  “My wallet? My papers? Mi documentos?”

“No, no documentos,” the crack head protested frantically.

Doggett shifted his grip to lock one hand around the man’s throat as he used the other one to pat him down.  “What else did you take off of me? SHOW ME! Show me what’s mine! Que es mio? Rapidamente!”

The crack head fumbled in his pockets, and after a moment pulled out a small silver object and handed it to Doggett.  “Ya estuvo. No more, no more.”

Releasing his hold on the man’s throat, Doggett glanced down and saw a platinum ring sitting in his palm. It was obviously a wedding band, and he automatically slid it onto the third finger of his left hand.
 
I’ve got a wife, he mused, the realization the first hint as to his missing memories.

A sharp pain lanced through his head then, followed by an instantaneous flash of memory: that of a remarkably beautiful blonde woman looking at him in adoration as she slid the ring onto his hand.  “With this ring, I thee wed.”

The memory vanished as quickly as it had come, as did the flash of pain. Glancing up, he discovered that the crack head had also vanished, but wisely had left Doggett’s second shoe behind.  His spirits slightly buoyed by the first indication that his memory was returning, Doggett permitted himself the faintest of smiles as he pulled on his shoe.

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

FBI HEADQUARTERS

Inside the office of Deputy Director Kersh, Skinner and Scully were apprising him of the latest developments in the Doggetts’ abduction.

“What’s this I’m hearing about Mexico?” Kersh asked.

Scully handed him a grainy black and white photo.  “This came in last night from U.S Customs,” she said. “It’s a blow-up from a security camera at the border crossing in Laredo, Texas.”

Kersh glanced at the photo. The clarity was poor, but it showed a couple bearing more than a passing resemblance to the Doggetts seated in the back of a pick-up truck,  either asleep or unconscious.

“This was taken at 1:50 a.m. local time the morning of the fourth,” Scully told him, “which makes it just over seven hours after the presumed time of their abduction.”

“Are we sure this is them?” Kersh asked.

“Agent Mulder and Agent Reyes believe so. They’re all ready en route to the American Embassy.”

“It’s our first solid lead,” Skinner added.  “With your permission, I’d like to contact our Legat’s Office and arrange to extend the task force into Mexico.”

“I’m not going to extend the task force,” Kersh replied. “I’m going to disband it.”

That brought Skinner and Scully up short.

“Excuse me?” Scully queried.

“I don’t see any other choice,” Kersh said, and gestured at the photograph. “This doesn’t prove anything, other than that an American couple resembling John and his wife passed across the border that night. There is no indication of foul play.”

“You can’t honestly believe that it’s merely a coincidence,” Scully replied.

“I’m not sure what to believe, Agent Scully. I do know that I’d have as hard a time selling this to my superiors as you’re having selling it to me.”  Kersh glanced at Skinner. “Turn this over to the Mexican Federal Police. This is now their jurisdiction, not ours.”

“They may be injured..”

Scully left the sentence unfinished, frustration and distress evident in her tone.

“Whether you believe it or not, I want to find them every bit as much as you do,” Kersh told her. “But there are political realties I have to take into account.”

“Have you taken into account the political reality that Jessica is the daughter of a United States Senator?” Scully countered.

Kersh’s expression made it clear he had not, and he did not look pleased at being told of his own faux paus.  Seeing that her reminder had hit its target, Scully drove her point home.

“Elizabeth Caldwell is arguably the most influential person in Washington outside of the President’s inner circle, and it will not bode well for this agency if we come up lacking in the investigation into her daughter’s abduction.”

Knowing she was right, Kersh offered no immediate response, and Skinner chose that moment to rejoin the conversation.  “Sir, at least allow Agents Mulder and Reyes to remain in Mexico and work in tandem with the authorities there to find out what they can,” he suggested.

Kersh sighed.  “As of right now, the official investigation is now out of our hands,” he declared.  “However, what Agents Mulder and Reyes - or the two of you, for that matter - decide to do unofficially is entirely up to you. Am I making myself clear?”

“As crystal, sir,” Scully assured him. “Thank you.”

Kersh returned the photograph to Scully, and she and Skinner left the office.  Once they were alone, Skinner addressed Scully.

“Pointing out the error of Kersh’s political ways may not have been the wisest strategy, Agent Scully,” he cautioned.

“Maybe not,” Scully allowed,  “but I’m not going to risk losing John and Jessica because the Bureau wants to play power games.”

“Why don’t you catch a flight to Mexico and see if you can help Mulder and Reyes?’ Skinner suggested. “I can hold down the fort from here.”

“I appreciate the offer, sir, but Mulder and I agreed that one of us needed to stay behind this time. Will’s getting old enough where he needs at least one of us with him, and since Jessica is Mulder’s sister we felt he should be the one to make the trip.”

“I just hope he and Monica can find them,” Skinner muttered.

“That makes two of us.”

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

U.S. EMBASSY - MEXICO

Reyes and Mulder were sequestered in a conference room, awaiting the arrival of a Mexican-American businessman named Alfredo Molina.  According to their contact at the Embassy, Molina was a member of the Mexican cartel and had a network of information second to none.

“Nobody so much as sneezes on this side of the border without Molina knowing about it,” their liaison had told them.

Stealing a glance at the clock on the far wall, Mulder tried not to fidget in his chair as he silently contemplated their predicament.

If this Molina guy doesn’t give us any useful information we’re up a creek without a paddle, he mused.

“Mulder?”

He glanced over at Reyes. “Yeah?”

“Do you really think this Molina is going to tell us anything we want to know?” she asked.  “As far as he’s concerned, we’re the enemy.”

“We’re not yet,” Mulder corrected, “but if he lies about knowing where John and Jessica are and I find out about it, he’s going to be one very sorry soul.”

As if on cue, the Embassy official who was aiding the agents ushered Molina and a man they assumed to be his attorney into the room.

“Agents Mulder and Reyes, this is Alfredo Molina, and his attorney, Frank Jones.”

The group exchanged handshakes and then settled themselves on opposite sides of the table.  By unspoken agreement, Mulder began the questioning, and gave Molina a friendly smile.

“Mister Molina, we understand that you have many…associates…here in Mexico,” he said carefully.

“I have a large clientele, yes,” Molina confirmed.  “I sell tractors to the farmers both here and in South Texas: Agco, John Deere, New Holland…”

“Very impressive,” Mulder allowed.

“What about drugs, Mister Molina?” Reyes asked in perfect Spanish. “Are they on the inventory, too? A little cocaine or hashish to go with the Agcos and John Deeres.”

Molina’s face tightened, his displeasure over the accusation etched in his face.  Having discussed it beforehand, Mulder knew what Reyes had said to him, but his lawyer spoke no Spanish and was not happy at being left out of the conversation.

“I’m sorry, but I don’t speak Spanish,” Jones said.

“She asked me if I sell drugs,” Molina told him.

Jones paused. “Please don’t speak Spanish anymore,” he requested after a beat.

Opening the folder in front of him, Mulder withdrew a picture and handed it to Molina.  “Mister Molina, do you recognize either of these people?” he asked.

Molina glanced at the picture, which featured Jessica and John seated on their front porch with their dogs.  “The woman is very beautiful, but I have never seen either of them before.”

“This couple disappeared from their home in Virginia ten days ago,” Mulder told him.  “We have reason to believe they were drugged and taken against their will.”

“What does any of this have to do with my client?” Jones demanded.

“Its common knowledge that your…unique…business associates afford you a vast network of information about everything that happens in this little corner of the world,” Mulder directed to Molina.  “Should one of these aforementioned associates have any involvement with the abduction, than that information would naturally find its way to you.”

“Agent, I don’t quite know what you’re implying,” Jones protested, “but Mr. Molina is an upstanding businessman and a pillar of the - “

Reyes cut him off. “’Pillar of the community’?” she echoed in disgust. “Does anybody actually use that phrase except mob lawyers?”

“Agent Reyes - “

“Shut up, Frank.”

The instruction came from Molina, and Jones glanced at him in confusion. “Alfredo?”

“Sit down, and shut up.”

Jones reluctantly did as he was told, and Molina met Mulder’s gaze.  “Hypothetically speaking, if I knew someone who knew something about this missing couple, why would I want to relay that information to you?” he inquired casually.

“We can start with the fact that the woman is the daughter of a United States Senator,” Reyes revealed, “and her husband is an FBI agent.”

“A friend of yours, no doubt.”

“He’s my partner,” Reyes allowed. “and he’s Agent Mulder’s brother-in-law.”

“We’re not here to play connect the dots with my family ties, Mr. Molina,” Mulder stated, “and quite frankly I don’t care what you’re shipping back and forth across the border.  I just want to know where my sister is.”

“I sympathize with your predicament, Agent Mulder, but I have yet to hear anything that would make my cooperation personally beneficial.”

“How about you tell me where they are and don’t stick my gun to your head and blow your sorry excuse for brains out the back of your skull?” Mulder suggested drolly.

“That’s quite enough,” Jones declared. “Unless my client is under arrest, this meeting is over.”

Reyes and Mulder remained silent, and Jones turned to Molina. “Let’s go, Alfredo.”

The two men rose to their feet and started out the door, and Mulder called out to them. “This isn’t over, Molina!”

The men ignored the warning and made their way out of the Embassy. Once they were alone, Mulder glanced at Monica. “Well that could have gone better,” he said unnecessarily.

“We may have made things worse by antagonizing him,” Reyes cautioned.

The ring of his cell phone prevented Mulder’s response, and he pulled it out of his coat. “Mulder.”

“Mulder, it’s me,” Scully’s voice said.

“Hey, Scully,” he greeted. “How did things go with Kersh?”

“That depends on if you look at the glass as half-empty or half-full,” Scully replied.  “Due to lack of evidence he’s disbanding the official task force and refusing to extend it into Mexico. But he did imply that you and Monica were welcome to continue digging around on your own.”

“Which means we’re right back where we started,” Mulder said. “Nowhere.”

“Maybe not.”

“Is there something else?”

“Byers called after I got out of the meeting with Kersh and he and the Gunmen managed to identify the drug that we found at John and Jessica’s house. Their initial tests indicate it’s a drug called thiopental sodium, also known as sodium pentothal.”

“Which means what in English?”

“It’s commonly called ‘truth serum’, although in this case it seems to have been altered.“

“Altered how?” Mulder pressed.

“They don’t know yet. Langley is going to bring me the sample and I’m going to have forensics analyze to see what they can come up with.”

“Keep me posted. In the meantime I think Monica and I are going to take our search outside of the official channels.”

“Be careful.”

“Will do. Give our son a kiss for me.”

“Consider it done. I love you.”

“Me, too.”

Shutting off his phone, Mulder tucked it back into his coat.

“From the gist of what I overheard I take it Kersh isn’t going to send in the cavalry,” Reyes replied.

“No, but Scully said he didn’t order us to stop our search, either. At the moment I’ll grasp at whatever straws we can.”

“So what now?”

“Now, we put your linguistic skills and female charm to use and see what the common folk can tell us,” Mulder told her, and stood up.

Reyes gave him a confused look, but got to her feet and followed him out of the conference room.

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

It was the persistent jiggling of the bed that finally woke him.  Slowly exhaling, he opened his eyes just wide enough to see an eight year-old version of his face staring back at him.

“Mommy…Daddy, wake up, I wanna show you something.”

“What time is it?” his wife asked in a muffled voice

He glanced to his left, and seeing her awake and watching him, he shifted his gaze over her to glance at the clock on the nightstand. The display read 6:08 a.m., and he stifled a groan as he addressed their son.

“Can’t it wait an hour?” The little boy shook his head. “What is it?”

“It’s a surprise. C’mon, let’s go.”

“Let’s go.”

The unexpected intrusion of a voice speaking Spanish jarred Doggett back to the present, and the memory of the little boy with the surprise vanished like a puff of smoke, leaving a dull ache in its place. Sighing, Doggett looked up at his surroundings and discovered he was propped against the side of what passed for the local cantina, apparently having spent the night asleep on the ground.  Automatically his gaze shifted to his feet, but both shoes were still in place, and a glance at his hands verified his wedding band was also still in his possession.

Looks like I’ve got a son to go with my wife, he mused silently.  Wish to hell I could remember their names.

Rising to his feet, Doggett brushed himself off as best he could and started down the street. As he passed the cantina doorway, however, the unexpected sound of an obviously American voice caused him to step inside.  It took a moment for his eyes to adjust to the darkness, and when they did he spotted a man about his age and height seated on a barstool conversing with the bartender.  Twelve days in this pit hole of a town had increased Doggett’s understanding of Spanish enough so that he could make out bits and pieces of their conversation.

“Si, la bella rubia,” the bartender replied.  “She passed through town with El Diablo almost two weeks ago.”

The beautiful blonde, Doggett translated.  Sounds like a description of my mystery wife.

“Who is this El Diablo?” the American asked.

“No one knows his name,” the bartender said, “but he speaks with a foreign accent and owns a large estate in the desert. El Castillo de Infierno.”

“The Castle of Hell,” the American replied.  “Interesting name.”

The bartender shrugged.  “No one who tries to penetrate its walls ever lives to tell about it,” he revealed, “and those who ask too many questions receive a taste of the devil’s wrath.”

“I appreciate the warning.”

Tossing several pesos on the bar, the American bid the bartender farewell and exited the cantina.  Doggett was careful to keep out of sight, but once the man was outside he began to follow him.  They had gone perhaps a hundred yards when Doggett rounded a corner and promptly collided with Nestor.

“Hijo de puta…” Nestor muttered, then gasped when he recognized Doggett. “El Americano!”

“Hey, Nestor,“ Doggett greeted with false cheer, and not wanting to lose his trail on the other American by wasting time with Nestor, drew back his arm and punched the other man in the jaw.  Nestor promptly collapsed on the ground and Doggett hurried to catch up to the American.  As he rounded another corner, however, the other man was nowhere in sight, and Doggett released a frustrated sigh.

“Damn,” he mumbled.

“Lose someone, Agent Doggett?” a voice inquired from behind him.

The ex-Marine started at the voice and reacted instinctively, spinning on his heel and delivering a blow to his jaw identical to the one that had felled Nestor a moment ago.  The force of the punch was enough to knock the other man to the ground, but apparently his jaw was made of sterner stuff and he did not lose consciousness.

“Hell of a left hook you’ve got there, Sergeant,” he muttered, rubbing his soon to be bruised jaw.

It was obvious from the other man’s form of address that he was personally acquainted with Doggett, and Doggett eyed him suspiciously.  “Do I know you?” he asked.

“Maybe not at the moment,” the other man allowed as he rose to his feet, “but once we find those marbles you’ve apparently lost, you will.”

“If we’re such close, personal friends, what’s my name?”

The other man smiled, knowing the question was not so much a challenge as it was a request for information.  “John J. Doggett, former Sergeant of the 24^th Marine Amphibious Unit of the United States Marine Corp and current Special Agent for the Federal Bureau of Investigation.”

Hearing his name for the first time in ten days triggered a flash of memory - of himself in a tailored suit flashing a badge and reciting his name. As with the other memories, however, it disappeared as quickly as it had come, leaving only the ache of the headaches which accompanied the flashes.

“And you are?”

“Brett Griffin, former sergeant at arms and current mercenary for hire.”

“The woman you’re looking for; she’s my wife?”

“Every gorgeous inch of her. Her name is Jessica.”

Her name triggered yet another flashback, a partial memory of the night of their abduction.

Jessica stood against the sink, her back to the counter as she smiled at him over the rim of her mug.
“I do hope you were joking about following through on Fox’s suggestion about the T-shirt,” she said lightly.

“On the contrary, given the reactions you get every time we go out it may not be a bad idea,” Doggett returned.

She chuckled.  “You’re cute when you’re jealous, Sunshine, but you don’t need a shirt to tell the world that I ‘belong’ to you.”

“Oh really? And why’s that?”

Her smile widened and she placed her mug on the counter before closing the distance between them and sliding her arms around his neck.  “Well aside from the fact that in another three months or so the evidence will be widening my waistline, I’m pretty sure that everyone gets the message every time I look at you.”

He smiled back. “Have I mentioned lately that I love you?”

“I love you, too.”

“John, are you still with me?”

The question broke Doggett out of his reverie, and he glanced at Griffin.  “So what are you doin’ here lookin’ for me, and what the hell happened to me and my wife?”

“That, old friend, is what we need to find out.”

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

Shortly thereafter, Griffin and Doggett were sequestered at a corner table in the cantina, deliberately keeping their voices low so as not to be overheard.

“So you’re tellin’ me that I’m a Federal agent, and that I was kidnapped twelve days ago by some high profile nut case that’s obsessed with my wife?” Doggett pressed.

Griffin smiled.  “That’s an oversimplification, but you get the gist of it,” he allowed.

Doggett considered that for a moment.  “If me and my wife have been missin’ for close to two weeks, who’s been takin’ care of our son?” he asked.

Griffin’s smile faded. “Your son?” he repeated carefully.

“Yeah.  I can’t remember his name, but I had a flash back and I saw his face. Cute little blond kid; looks like me, only smaller.”

“You’re referring to Luke,” Griffin said, knowing where this was headed and bracing himself for his friend’s reaction.

“Luke…so that’s his name.  I don’t even know how old he is.”

Griffin cleared his throat.  “He would have been fifteen on July 1,” he revealed evenly.

The other man’s use of the past tense wasn’t lost on Doggett. “Would have been?”  he echoed.

“He was kidnapped in the fall of ’97. The FBI got involved; that’s how you wound up at the Bureau. Three days after he disappeared, you found him.”

The implication in Griffin’s last remark was obvious, and the memory of Luke’s abduction and eventual murder came back in a rush of fear and anger and grief.

“Oh, God...please, God, no…”

Empathizing with his friend’s pain, but all too aware of their precarious location, Griffin reached across the table and grasped Doggett’s forearm.  “Don’t do it, John,” he whispered sternly.  “Don’t get lost in the memory. I know it still hurts, but this is not the time or place to give in to it. We need to get the rest of your memory back and find out where the hell this guy Stuckhold has stashed your wife.  Are you hearing me, Sergeant?”

The use of his former military rank and the urgency in Griffin’s tone penetrated Doggett’s emotional whirlwind, and he forced himself to reign in his emotions as he gave a curt nod.

“Good. Now, is there anything at all you can remember about how you got here?”

Doggett thought for a moment, and he suddenly recalled feeling the prick of a needle in his neck before his memory disappeared.  “They injected me with somethin’,” he said.  “Just before my memory went to black, they stuck a needle in my neck.”

Griffin frowned. “I’m no medical expert but as far as I know there’s no such thing as an amnesia drug,” he replied.  “When you came to, did you go through any withdrawals or experience any symptoms other than the memory loss?”

He shook his head.  “Not a thing. One minute I was unconscious; the next I was awake with no idea where or who I was.”

Griffin sighed.  “That’s doesn’t give us much to go on,” he said ruefully.  “I think the best thing we can do right now is get the hell out of here and have a doctor examine you. After we make sure whatever they gave you didn’t do any real damage, we’ll get you cleaned and fed, and then we’ll come back here to track down Jessica.”

“And how do you plan on doin’ that?”

Griffin flashed him a smile. “It’s simple, my friend. We’re going to pay a visit to the devil.”

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

The cop who had arrested Doggett nearly two weeks before was smoking a cigarette near the warehouse when he was approached by Reyes.

“Excuse me,” she said in Spanish. “I’m looking for someone, and I was hoping you might know where I can find him.”

“Quien es?”

Reyes handed him a bureau photo of Doggett, along with a pair of 100 peso notes.  The cop took the picture and the money, and glanced at the photo for a moment before asking, “Why are you looking for this man?”

“He left me for another woman,” Reyes lied.  “Perhaps she was with him - a beautiful blonde woman, also American?”

The cop eyed her suspiciously, not quite certain if she was lying, and shifted his attention back to the photo. He pretended to study it another moment, then handed it back to Reyes. “Lo siento, but I have not seen this man, or a woman like the one you described.”

Instinct told Reyes he was lying through his teeth, and it gave her a flicker of hope. If he is trying to keep me from finding out he’s seen John, then at least that means he’s still alive. Careful to keep her expression neutral, she graced the cop with a small smile. “Well thank you anyway. I appreciate your time.”

Reyes turned and retreated in the direction she had come, feeling the cop’s gaze on her as she went.  She had gone perhaps a hundred yards when a familiar face stepped out of the shadows.

“Any luck?” Mulder asked.

“Well he claims he hasn’t seen John or Jessica, but my gut tells me that he’s lying,” Reyes answered.

“Which means he has seen one or both of them and doesn’t want us to know,” Mulder surmised.

“Exactly. Hopefully that means they’re still alive.”

Their conversation was interrupted by the ring of Mulder’s cell phone, and not wanting to attract attention, he quickly pulled it out of his coat.  “Mulder.”

“Mulder, it’s me,” Scully’s voice said.

“What’s up, Doc?”

“I got the results back on the sodium pentothal,” Scully told him.  “I’m not entirely sure how, but apparently it was altered so that it caused the cells in the brain which affected memory to ‘deactivate’, for lack of a better phrase.”

“You mean it gives you amnesia?”

“More or less, but the effect would only be temporary. Prolonged exposure to the body’s natural immune systems would diffuse its potency and eventually it would dissolve into the bloodstream.”

“Why would they want to inject John and Jessica with an amnesia drug?” Mulder wondered.  “What would erasing their memories have to do with the genetic manipulation of Jessica’s baby?”

“My guess is they probably used it on John and dumped him in the middle of nowhere so he wouldn’t be able to interfere with their plans for Jessica or tell anyone else where to find her,“ Scully replied.

“Great,” Mulder muttered. “So basically we’re now looking for a man who doesn’t know he needs to be found.”

“I wish I had better news.”

“So do I. How are things back in D.C.? Is Kersh still turning a blind eye to me and Monica being in Mexico?”

“Fortunately, yes, but Skinner’s heading to the Embassy himself to keep the federales out of your way for a little while longer.  Apparently that Molina fellow you interrogated didn’t take too kindly to the insinuation that he’s a drug runner and is now making noises with the Mexican government.”

“I should have shot him when I had the chance.”

“Excuse me?”

“Nothing.  I’ll call you as soon as we have more information.”

“Okay. If anything changes on my end I’ll let you know.”

Mulder shut off his cell phone and turned to Reyes.  “Skinner’s on his way down here,” he told her.  “Molina’s been complaining about us to the suits in the Mexican government and he’s going to try and do some spin control so we can continue our search without their interference.”

“Sounds like the clock is ticking, though,” Reyes remarked.

“Unfortunately it looks that way.”

“What was that you were saying about an amnesia drug?”

“I’ll tell you on our way back to the city,” Mulder replied.

Reyes nodded, and they headed for their car.

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

EL CASTILLO DE INFIERNO

Dieter was in his office reviewing the results of the latest experiments on Jessica’s fetus when his majordomo - an Asian man about forty known only as Chang - entered the room.  “We have a problem,” he declared.

“What kind of problem?” Dieter queried.

“The kind that answers to the name of John Doggett,” Chang told him. “He’s still alive.”

“I suspected as much. Where is he?”

“He’s in Sangradura.  Apparently he spent eight days in the prison, but he was released a week ago after another prisoner paid for his bail.  Since then he’s been wandering around town trying to figure out who he is and how he got to the middle of nowhere.”

“Has anyone told him anything?”

“No, but this afternoon an American mercenary showed up asking questions about Doggett and his wife, and now they’ve both gone underground.”

“I should have killed him two weeks ago and saved myself the aggravation,” Dieter muttered.  “Sangradura is Molina’s pit hole. Tell him to make arrangements to have Doggett and his mercenary friend disposed of.”

“He can’t,” Chang replied.  “He was questioned by the FBI at the Embassy several days ago and is still under surveillance. The same agents have been seen in Sangradura, and it is likely only a matter of time before they find Doggett.”

The older man sighed. “Under different circumstances I’d simply move the operation to another location, but I can’t risk taking Lieutenant Doggett on an extended trip.  If she loses the babies, than all of this will have been for naught.”

“Babies?” Chang echoed.

Dieter gave him a small smile. “Yes. It seems the lovely lieutenant is carrying twins, which makes it all the more imperative that neither her husband nor any of his FBI cohorts discover our location.”

“What do you want me to do?”

“Have Doctor Bennett prepare another dose of the serum and send someone into Sangradura to find Doggett. Contact Domingo and offer him a thousand Mexican dollars if he can give us the American’s whereabouts, and once he’s found, make certain he forgets what little he’s remembered.”

“Consider it done,” Chang told him.  “There is one other situation that you should be aware of.  Doctor Bjork asked me to tell you that Lieutenant Doggett became physically ill during the procedures this morning.”

“I believe that’s why they call it ‘morning sickness’,” Dieter replied.

“It’s more than that,” Chang countered.  “Apparently her body is having an adverse reaction to the drugs they have been injecting into the fetus.”

“Is she in danger of miscarrying?”

“Doctor Bjork wasn’t sure, but she has recommended that the tests be suspended for a day or two to allow Lieutenant Doggett a chance to recuperate.”

Dieter nodded.  “We’ll suspend the tests for forty-eight hours, and in the meantime I want Bjork and the others to find a way to counteract the lieutenant’s intolerance to the drugs.  If it becomes necessary, they will have to put her into a medical coma until she comes to term.  Once she has safely given birth, she will not be of any further use to us and can be properly disposed of.”

Chang nodded and exited the office.

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

Curled into a fetal position in the center of her bed, Jessica lay as still as possible, valiantly attempting to fight the nausea that threatened to overwhelm her.  Over the past two weeks, Dieter’s medical and scientific teams had begun the process of manipulating her fetus’ DNA in an effort to transform it into a ‘super baby’.  Fearful for her baby’s safety, she had very reluctantly consented to their tests, knowing that her life depended on her cooperation. Yet despite her efforts, the various serums they had been injecting her with were wreaking havoc with her physiology.  Some had produced an allergic reaction, others made her physically ill, and a couple had been completely ineffective.  Her pregnancy had been high risk to begin with given her age and previous miscarriages, and she and Doggett had initially decided against starting another family. But as her deceased father-in-law had been so fond of quoting, “Many are the plans in a man’s heart, but it is the Lord’s purpose that prevails”.  Apparently it had for the Doggetts, and He had blessed John and Jessica with her pregnancy.

However all of her early caution and care was now a moot point, as the ‘procedures’ Dieter’s staff were subjecting her to now threatened her life and the life of the child she carried.  Given her body’s reaction after only fourteen days, she knew instinctively that she would not survive another four and a half months. Yet she still clung to the desperate hope that her husband was still alive and would somehow find a way to rescue her from her makeshift prison.

If ever I needed a miracle it’s now, Lord, she pleaded.  Please give John what he needs to get us out of here and take us home.

Her prayers were interrupted by the sound of the door opening, and she stifled a frustrated groan as Dieter walked into the room.  Not wanting to risk losing her breakfast in front of her captor, Jessica made no effort to sit up and instead shot him an annoyed glare from the bed.

“Come to check on your prize lab rat?” she asked irritably.

“Chang tells me you became ill during the resequencing test this morning,” Dieter said, noticing for the first time the pallor underneath her elegant features and the dark circles under her eyes.

“In case you hadn’t noticed, Dieter, I’ve been ill almost since I got here,” Jessica responded.

“What is troubling you?” Dieter asked. “I will have one of the doctors give you something for it.”

“You can’t fix what’s wrong with me unless you release me and return me to my husband.”

“Do not waste what little energy you have with useless requests, Lieutenant.  I’ve given instructions that you are to be left alone for the next two days in order to recover your strength, but one way or another the tests will resume. You will either develop a tolerance for them, or you will be medicated for the duration of your pregnancy so the tests can continue.”

“Not even your team of ‘the most brilliant scientific minds money can buy’ can honestly believe that keeping me drugged for the next four and a half months will have no effect on my baby,” Jessica retorted.

“Actually, my dear, its babies,” Dieter corrected. “Apparently you’re carrying twins.”

The lieutenant closed her eyes, torn between joy over the double pregnancy and anxiety at having a second life to protect.  Please God, help John find away to free us, she pleaded silently.

“You’ve been given a forty-eight hour reprieve, Lieutenant, but as I said the experiments will resume the day after tomorrow. So it would behoove you to use those enhanced genes of yours to develop a tolerance for the drugs, or you’ll wish Scott Caldwell had left well enough alone eighteen months ago and not uncovered the secret of who you are.”

On that ominous note, Dieter left the suite, and Jessica closed her eyes against the tears that threatened to spill over.

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

U.S. EMBASSY - MEXICO

The morning of the fifteenth day of the Doggetts’ disappearance,  Reyes and Mulder arrived at the Embassy and found Skinner all ready there.

“Morning, Walter,” Mulder greeted cheerfully.

“Good morning, sir,” Reyes said.

“Good morning, Agents,” Skinner responded. “I assume you know why I’m here?”

“Apparently Alfredo Molina isn’t interested in joining my fan club,” Mulder deadpanned.

The A.D. gave him an admonishing scowl. “This isn’t funny, Mulder,” he stated.  “What were you thinking when you threatened to shoot him?”

“I was thinking that the slimy s.o.b. knows where John and my sister are,” came the angry response.  “You know as well as I do that Molina has a finger in every pot from Waco to the southern end of Mexico. He may not have any direct involvement in their abduction, but he damn sure knows who does.”

“Did you really think threatening to kill him was the wisest way to get him to admit that?”

“At this point in time, sir, I frankly don’t care. My sister is pregnant and is out there in the hands of men who have proven themselves capable of murder.  If I have to piss off a lowlife Mexican Mafioso to get some answers, so be it.”

The older man permitted himself an exasperated sigh just as their liaison in the Embassy walked into the room.  “Excuse me, but there’s a telephone call for Agent Mulder on line three.”

The others exchanged curious looks, wondering why someone would be calling Mulder at the Embassy instead of on his cellular phone.  Walking to the other end of the table, he picked up the receiver.

“Fox Mulder.”

“Agent Mulder, this is Brett Griffin. Elizabeth Caldwell hired me to find a mutual relative of yours who took an unexpected vacation fifteen days ago.”

“So why are you calling me?”

“Your relative is still MIA, but I did find someone who’s the next best thing.”

Mulder shot a glance at Reyes and Skinner, and something in his expression caused them to walk over to stand beside him as he continued the conversation.

“Really…can you describe him to me?”

“I have a better idea,” Griffin said.  “Hold on.”

There was a brief pause, and to Mulder’s relief a familiar gravelly voice came over the line.

“Mulder?”

“Yeah it’s me. Are you all right?”

“I’ve been better,” Doggett responded, weariness evident in his tone.  “I’m still not entirely sure what’s goin’ on, but it seems to be comin’ back in bits and pieces.”

“Where’s Jessica?”

“Unfortunately that’s one of the pieces that’s still missin’,” Doggett answered. “I think it’s best if we continue this conversation in person.”

“Can you get to the Embassy?” Mulder asked.

“Actually I think it’d be better if you came to me,” Doggett countered. “Until we figure out exactly who’s behind all of this, I’d rather not make any public appearances.”

“Fine. Tell me where to find you.”

“There’s a motel about six blocks north of the Embassy called Casa de Oro. Go to the front desk and ask for John Doe.”

“I’ll be there in ten minutes.”

Mulder ended the call and glanced at the others.  “That was John,” he revealed. “He sounds exhausted, but otherwise he says he’s okay.“

“Is Jessica with him?” Reyes asked.

Mulder shook his head. “He said his memory is only coming back a little bit at a time, and unfortunately he hasn’t remembered what happened to her.”

“Where is he?” Skinner asked. “Is he coming in?”

“We’re going to him.”

Mulder headed out of the room without bothering to elaborate and Reyes and Skinner followed him out.

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

Just under ten minutes later, the rental car carrying Reyes, Skinner and Mulder pulled into the parking lot of the Casa de Oro Motel.  Once inside, it immediately became apparent how the establishment had gotten its name.  All of the décor - carpets, furniture, wallpaper, etc. - was varying shades of gold.  From a satiny gold sheen on the small loveseat to the sunflower yellow plastic lounge chairs visible on the outdoor patio, it was indeed a House of Gold.

“We should probably keep our sunglasses on to avoid being blinded by the overly luminous color scheme,” Mulder remarked.

They approached the front desk, where an elderly Mexican man was reading a local paper and nursing a diet coke.  As the only one of the three fluent in Spanish, Reyes addressed him.

“Excuse me, but we’re here to see John Doe.”

“Room twenty-three,” the man responded.  “Walk to the end of the hallway and turn left and it will be the last door at the end of the second hallway.”

Reyes thanked him and the trio headed down the hall until they found the door marked “23”, and Mulder knocked twice.  A moment later the door opened partway, and Griffin poked his head around the door.  “Agent Mulder, I presume?”

“Yeah. This is Agent Reyes and Assistant Director Skinner.”

“Let’s see some ID.”

“Just open the damn door, Brett!” Doggett exclaimed from behind him.

“Just trying to make sure we’re letting the good guys in,” Griffin said, and pulled the door all the way open.

The trio walked in the room and spotted a now showered and shaved Doggett standing a few feet behind Griffin, noticeably thinner but otherwise no worse for the wear.

“You guys are a sight for sore eyes,” Doggett declared.

“It’s good to see you, too,” Mulder responded in kind.

The two men exchanged a hug, then Reyes gave him a brief one as well, and Skinner extended his hand.  “Nice to have you back, Agent Doggett,” he said.

“Thank you, sir.”

Mulder glanced at the stranger. “Brett Griffin, I presume?”

“The one and only.”

“How do you know John?” Reyes asked.

“Brett served with Scott and me in the Marines,” Doggett answered.

“What are you doing here?” Skinner asked.

“Elizabeth Caldwell hired me to track down John and Jessica and bring them home,” Griffin told him.

“Well you seem to be one person short,” Mulder noted drolly.  “Not much of a mercenary, are you?”

“I found John before you and your friends at the Bureau did,” Griffin countered. “Not much of an agent, are you?”

“Let’s save the bickering for another time, gentlemen,” Skinner interjected. “Right now we need to concentrate on finding Lieutenant Doggett.”

“Have you been able to remember anything about the abduction?” Reyes asked of Doggett.

“Jess and I were gettin’ ready to head over to Sarah’s to watch the kids when the dogs suddenly started barkin’ like crazy,” Doggett recalled.  “Jess went downstairs to see why they were makin’ such a fuss, and a few minutes later I felt someone stick a needle in my neck.  That’s the last thing I remember until I woke up in the warehouse in Sangradura.”

“Scully and I found the syringe when we went to the house,” Mulder told him.  “Turns out they gave you an altered form of a drug called sodium pentothal -“

“Sodium what?”

“In layman’s terms its called truth serum, but in this case they altered it so that it would essentially deactivate the memory engrams in your brain.”

“So much for my assumption that there’s no such thing as an amnesia drug,” Griffin muttered.

“Why would they want to make me lose my memory?” Doggett asked. “Since they obviously wanted me out of the way, why not just kill me?”

“A body can be traced back to them,” Skinner suggested. “But if you simply disappear, you’re just another unsolved case.”

“Before I called Agent Mulder, how did you know that these people hadn’t killed him?” Griffin asked.

“Mulder and I had been asking around in Sangradura, and there were too many people who were trying too hard to convince us they hadn’t seen John or Jessica,” Reyes explained.  “I spoke briefly with one of the local police officers and he was too quick to tell me that he didn’t recognize their picture. He was denying it without ever really looking at the picture.”

“You didn’t happen to talk to a small time thug named Domingo Salmeron?” Doggett queried.

“I didn’t,” Reyes said.

“Neither did I,” Mulder said.  “Who is he?”

“He was in the cell with me when I was stuck in jail, and eventually he wound up bribin’ one of the guards to let me go with him when he was released.  He seems to have half the town on his payroll and treats everyone in it like his personal property.”

“Five will get you ten that he’s on Molina’s payroll,” Mulder replied.

“Who’s Molina?” Doggett asked.

“Don’t ask,” Skinner said.

“Maybe we should return to Sangradura and have a talk with this Domingo Salmeron,” Reyes suggested.

The ring of the telephone interrupted their conversation and Griffin crossed over the small table by the bed.  “Hello?”

“It’s Garcia.”

“Is everyone here?”

“Yes.  We’ve set up a small base camp just outside Sangradura and are awaiting your instructions.”

“Excellent.  Doggett’s associates are here, so we’ll be heading back into town to question one of the locals and then I’ll contact you to coordinate the strike.”

“We’ll be ready.”

Griffin hung up the phone and walked over to rejoin the others.

“What was that all about?” Doggett asked.

“That was another friend of mine. He and a few of our colleagues are going to help us get Jessica back.”

“May I ask how?” Mulder inquired.

“Well we’re certainly not going to walk up to the front gate of this estate where she’s being held and politely ask them to turn her over,” Griffin said dryly.

“Well you’re certainly not goin’ to launch an attack on Stuckhold’s stronghold, either,” Doggett declared.  “No way in hell am I gonna risk my pregnant wife gettin’ caught in the crossfire.”

“From what you’ve told me this Stuckhold wants her kept safe almost as much as you do,” Griffin countered. “Wherever he’s got her stashed is probably the safest place in the compound.”

“The subject isn’t open for debate, Brett,” Doggett said sternly.  “We can take half a dozen men on a covert operation to retrieve Jess, but goin’ through the front gate with guns blazin’ ain’t an option.”

The declaration clearly did not sit well with Griffin, but the expression on Doggett’s face told him further argument would not be a prudent idea.  “Fine,” he relented. “We’ll go in the back door.”

“Do you even know where to find the compound?” Skinner asked.

“No, but I’m bettin’ Domingo does,” Doggett answered.

“What do you need from us?” Reyes asked.

“Frankly I need you to return to the Embassy and stay outta the way,” Doggett responded. “I appreciate you guys comin’ all this way to help find me and Jess, but it’s better for all concerned if the FBI’s involvement ends here.”

“John…”

“Don’t argue with me, Monica. At the risk of soundin’ like a chauvinist, this rescue operation is no place for a woman. And in any event, you’re not trained for this; Brett and I are. R&R missions were one of our specialties when we were in the Corps.”

“Agent Doggett’s right,” Skinner said.  “We’d only be in the way.”

“I’m coming with you,” Mulder declared.

“Look, J. Edgar…” Griffin began.

“Save it, Griffin!” Mulder snapped.  “Jessica’s my sister and I’m not going to sit on my ass at the Embassy while you and your personal contingent of mercenaries play hero and try to rescue her!”

Doggett stepped between them and met Mulder’s gaze.  “This is goin’ to get worse before it gets better,” he said evenly, “and it’s a given that some people are gonna have to die before it’s all over. Can you deal with that?”

Mulder held his brother-in-law’s gaze steadily.  “I lost one sister to a bunch of sadistic bastards like this once before,” he reminded him.  “I won’t stand by and let it happen again.  Whatever it takes, we’re going to get Jessica back.”

Doggett gave a curt nod of acknowledgement. “Then let’s do it.”

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

SANGRADURA

After parting company with Skinner and Reyes at the motel, Griffin had gone to meet up with his men while Mulder and Doggett went into town in search of Domingo. As he and Mulder approached the cantina, Doggett spotted a familiar Ford Ranchero parked just outside, and glanced at his friend.

“That’s Domingo’s car,” he said.

“Then let’s go have a chat with him.”

Walking inside the darkened cantina, they waited a moment to allow their eyes to adjust and then scanned the room for their quarry.  They discovered him seated at a table near the bar with Nestor, both men nursing half full glasses of amber liquid. Nestor was the first to spot them, and he quickly nudged Domingo to alert him to their presence.  As Mulder and Doggett approached the table, Domingo muttered something to Nestor in Spanish, and he immediately rose to his feet to charge Doggett, pulling a rather large knife out of his boot as he did so. Mulder automatically went for his gun, but he barely had it out of the holster before Doggett had snapped Nestor’s wrist like a dry twig, forcing him to drop the knife, and he gave him a forceful shove into an adjacent table.

“Remind me never to challenge you to an arm wrestling contest,” Mulder said wryly.

Seemingly unfazed by his cohort’s condition, Domingo calmly took a sip of beer and glancing down, smiled at the sight of Doggett’s feet.  “Looks like I can’t call you One Shoe no more,” he remarked.  “What do I call you? John Doe?”

“The name’s John Doggett, actually, and I need you to answer some questions for me.”

“And why would I want to do that?” Domingo asked.

Mulder cocked his gun and pressed it to the other man’s temple.  “Because it’s the only way you’re going to keep your brains on the inside of your skull,” he said casually.

Domingo didn’t miss a beat. “What can I help you with, Senor Doggett?”

“I need to know where to find the Castillo de Infierno,” Doggett said.  “The man everyone around here calls ‘El Diablo’ has taken somethin’ from me and I want it back.”

“It must be something of great value for you to risk your life to get it back,” Domingo remarked.  “What does he have of yours that is so important?”

“My wife.”

Domingo’s eyes widened in surprise.  “La Bella Rubia…she is your wife? You are a lucky man, Senor.”

“Thanks. Now tell me where I can find her.”

“I do not know the exact location of El Diablo’s lair, but if you follow the main road through Sangradura, it eventually leads to the desert.  El Castillo de Infierno is somewhere between the end of the road and the end of the desert.”

“That narrows it down,” Mulder deadpanned.

Doggett shot him a quelling look. “Ease up on the runnin’ commentary, would you, Mulder?”

A movement out of the corner of his eye caught Mulder’s attention, and he shifted his gaze behind Doggett to see Nestor coming at him again, the knife clutched in his other wrist.

“John, behind you!”

Doggett instantly spun on his heel and grabbed Nestor’s wrist in mid-descent, then cracked it against his knee where it snapped with an audible crack. As the smaller man howled in pain, Doggett drove his elbow into his nose, breaking it, and Nestor fell to the ground.  After hovering over Nestor for a moment to ensure he was done with the attack, Doggett returned his attention to Domingo.

“When your friend stops screamin’, you might want to tell him that attempted murder is a federal crime,” he said matter of factly, and reaching into his pocket, withdrew a small stack of Mexican dollars, which he dropped on the table next to Domingo’s drink.   “That should more than compensate you for what it cost to bail me out of jail a week ago. Maybe you should use some of it to get Nestor here some medical attention.”

Domingo shot him an assessing glance. “It seems you are a man of your word after all,” he allowed.  “You handle yourself very well, Senor, but you are no mercenary.”

“And you know this how?” Doggett prompted.

He shrugged.  “Mercenaries fight for the love of money, not women, even one as beautiful as yours. And no mercenary would have bothered enough with my opinion to repay me the bail money.”

“You’re right; I’m not a mercenary,” Doggett confirmed.

“So what does that make you then?”

“At the moment, I’m just a man tryin’ to find his wife.” He glanced at Mulder. “Let’s go.”

Doggett turned and headed out of the cantina.  As he exited, Mulder withdrew a business card and placed it on the stack of money Doggett had given Domingo.  “Just for the record, Domingo, we’re federal agents. So if you or your little friend on the floor have any ideas about following us to finish what you started, I’d highly recommend you reconsider.”

Holstering his gun, Mulder made his way out of the cantina and hurried to catch up to Doggett.  “So what’s the plan?” he asked.

“We meet up with Scott and his men, and once the sun sets we head out to Castillo de Infierno,” Doggett told him.  “Thanks for the heads up back there, by the way.”

“You’re welcome. Besides, I certainly don’t want to have to face Jessica if I let something happen to you. I’d be better off going a few rounds with Nestor.”

Doggett smiled at that.

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

CASTILLO DE INFIERNO

Standing on a small balcony overlooking the desert, Jessica took a deep breath of fresh air as she watched the sun sink behind the sand dunes in the distance. In an effort to dispel the attacks of claustrophobia that being sequestered in her room triggered, she had convinced Dieter to allow her access to the rest of the compound on the condition that she be guarded at all times. Her two day reprieve from Dieter’s tests would end tomorrow, and she had yet to find a way to avoid being medicated for the next four and a half months.

If I don’t find a way to control my body’s reaction to the drugs this may be the last sunset I see until after I have the twins, she mused anxiously.

As if sensing her morbid train of thought, the babies chose that moment to stir, and Jessica smiled at the tell tale fluttering in her stomach.

“All right, you two,” she said aloud. “I get the message. No moping. Somehow, some way, your daddy is going to figure out where we are and get us out of here.”

“I appreciate the vote of confidence.”

The unexpected sound of the beloved voice caused Jessica to go stone still, and she ever so slowly turned around to discover Doggett standing a few feet behind her. Dressed all in black and brandishing an automatic rifle, he looked every inch a dangerous foe, but to Jessica he was the most beautiful sight in the world.

“John…thank God…”

She started toward him, but he met her halfway and pulled her into a fierce embrace.  They simply clung to one another for a moment before Doggett pulled back only far enough to give her a brief, bruising kiss.  “Are you all right?” he asked, wiping away a stray tear trickling  down her cheek.

“I am now.”

He gently placed one hand over her slightly rounded stomach. “How’s our little one?”

She gave him a knowing smile.  “They’re both fine.”

His eyes widened in surprise. “Twins?” he prompted, and at her nod, pulled her to him for another hug before placing a kiss to the top of her head.  Reluctantly releasing his hold on her, he stepped back and noticed for the first time how pale she was, and the dark circles under her eyes.  “What have they done to you?”

“I’ve been having various negative reactions to the drugs they’ve been giving me,” Jessica revealed.  “Dieter has been threatening to put me into a drug induced coma for the rest of my pregnancy.”

“Bastard!” Doggett snarled, and lifted his hand to place his palm against her cheek. “We’re gettin’ out of here, sweetheart, and Dieter and his flunkies aren’t gonna get within a hundred yards of you ever again. I swear it.”

She flashed him a warm smile.  “I love you,” she said simply.

“I love you.”

Just then they heard the approach of footsteps, and Doggett pushed Jessica behind him before bringing his rifle to bear. His finger on the trigger, he kept it aimed directly in front of them just as Mulder walked onto the balcony.

“Sweet Jesus, Mulder!” Doggett exclaimed. “I almost shot you!”

“Sorry,” he muttered, and glanced at Jessica. “Hey, little sister. Am I glad to see you.”

“Hi, Fox,” she greeted, and they exchanged a brief hug.

“Where are Brett and his men?” Doggett asked.

“Garcia and Wyndam are guarding the truck,” Mulder told him. “The others are keeping our escape route free of Dieter’s goons. I take it the dead guard in the hall is your doing?”

Doggett nodded and gave his wife a gentle shove toward Mulder. “Get Jess to safety,” he instructed. “I’m gonna find Dieter.”

“John…” Jessica began.

“I’m not gonna waste time arguin’ with you about this, Jess. If I don’t finish this here and now, then we’re gonna be lookin’ over our shoulders for the rest of our lives wonderin’ if one of his guys is waitin’ there to grab you. We can’t live like that.” He glanced at his partner. “Ger her out of here, now.”

Mulder nodded, and Jessica shot Doggett a final pained glance before reluctantly allowing her brother to lead her away.  Entering the hallway, Mulder muttered “watch your step” and Jessica looked down to see the guard that had been shadowing her for the last two weeks lying in a motionless heap on the floor, his head bent at an unnatural angle.  Reaching the end of the hallway, they cautiously started down the stairs just as a figure turned the corner. Mulder automatically raised his gun, but lowered it when he recognized one of Griffin’s men, a fellow mercenary he referred to only as Angel.

“Where’s Doggett?” he demanded.

“Taking care of unfinished business,” Mulder answered curtly, and he and Angel ushered Jessica out of the main house. Once outside, they spotted two other men standing beside a large covered truck, and crossed the courtyard to join them just as Griffin came jogging over from the side of the house.

“Hey, pretty lady,” Griffin directed at Jessica.

“Brett Griffin,” she said. “Why am I not surprised that you’re part of this?”

“Blame your mother,” Griffin responded. “She’s the one who hired me.”

Jessica shot a questioning glance at Mulder, who merely shrugged, and she returned her gaze to Griffin.  “Just out of morbid curiosity, how much is this little show costing her?”

Griffin smiled. “You don’t really think I ‘m going to tell you, do you?” he asked rhetorically, and glanced at Mulder.  “Where’s John?”

“Looking for Dieter,” Mulder told him.  “He said something about finishing this once and for all.”

Griffin sighed. “Man always has to be a hero,” he muttered.

Jessica again glanced at Mulder.  “Find him, Fox,” she requested.  “I don’t care if we have to move to the moon to escape Dieter, but I don’t want anything to happen to John because he has to satisfy a personal vendetta.”

“Jessica…”

“I’ll find him,” Griffin declared suddenly, and Mulder and Jessica both looked at him.  “Jessica, you’ve got enough on your plate right now without having to worry about your husband and your brother running around the devil’s lair.  If something does happen, we both know John would want Mulder here with you to make sure you get out of here safely.”

Knowing he was right, the beautiful blonde did not argue but merely said, “Thank you.”

Griffin glanced at Angel.  “If we’re not back in ten minutes, get Jessica and the men back to Sangradura as fast as possible,” he instructed.

Angel nodded in acknowledgement, and Griffin started back toward the house.

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

Unaware that his compound had been penetrated and that Jessica was on the verge of escape, Dieter was in the lab conversing with his staff.

“Have you found a way to counteract Lieutenant Doggett’s reaction to the drugs?” he asked.

“We can’t,” Bjork told him.  “Her own enhanced cells are increasing the strength of her natural immune system, and rejecting the serums. The more we give her, the harder her body fights to protect itself and the fetuses could be damaged if we continue.”

“What if we render her unconscious for the remainder of her pregnancy?”

“The effect will still be the same,” Bjork replied.

“What if we remove the fetuses from her womb?” he pressed. “Put them in some kind of containment tank and resume the testing directly on them.”

“If she was closer to the end of her term that might be feasible, but she is only at 20 weeks. Removal of the fetuses this early would be fatal.”

“Fine. We’ll suspend the tests until she is far enough along where we can remove the fetuses without losing one or both of them. In the meantime, find a way to incorporate the serums into her meals. Perhaps the effects will be mollified by the food and we can continue the experiments that way.”

“We’ll start working on it immediately,” Bjork declared.

Just then the sound of gunfire erupted outside the lab, and the group turned in surprise as the doors opened and Doggett and Griffin stepped inside.

“Agent Doggett,” Dieter replied.  “Why can’t you simply leave well enough alone?”

“I could ask you the same thing,” Doggett countered, realizing from his greeting and his accent that he was Stuckhold.  “You and your old man seemed to be obsessed with playin’ around with my wife’s DNA.  Is he part of this little kidnappin’ fiasco, too?”

“Whatever is left of my father is rotting in hell with Carl Spender and Bill Mulder,” Dieter responded.  “He suffered a fatal heart attack several months ago.”

“You’ll forgive me if I don’t say I’m sorry.”

“I must say I’m impressed that you and your friend managed to infiltrate my estate. Obviously my security forces aren’t as efficient as they are supposed to be.”

“I wouldn’t worry about it,” Griffin said.  “At least you don’t have to keep wasting money on their pay now that they’re dead.”

‘Brett…” Doggett admonished.

“Sorry.”

“Let’s do what we came here to do and get the hell outta here,” Doggett declared.

“Works for me,” Griffin agreed, and called to Dieter’s staff. “Ladies and Gentlemen, if you would all be so kind as to step aside?”

The two men raised their rifles and leveled them at the vast array of computers and glass jars with various serums lining the walls, their intent obvious.  Dieter’s staff quickly scattered as Griffin and Doggett opened fire, and in the space of two minutes, they had completely destroyed all of the equipment, as well as the stores of serums.

“You have no idea what you’ve begun here, Agent Doggett,” Dieter said menacingly.

“On the contrary, I know exactly what I’m endin’, and that would be your tests on my wife.”

“You think destroying my equipment here will be the end of it? You severely underestimate me if you think that these were the only records of my research.”

“I don’t give a damn if you sent a memo to everyone in your home country over the age of twelve,” Doggett retorted.  “You’ll have to find yourself another guinea pig, because you won’t get within a hundred yards of Jess ever again.”

“I took you out of commission once, Agent Doggett, and I can certainly do so again. And next time I will make it permanent.”

“I don’t think so. You made a fatal mistake when you abducted my wife, Stuckhold; you should never have messed with what’s mine.”

“Is that some type of threat?” Dieter asked.

“Think of it as your epitaph,” Doggett answered.  “When you get to hell, give my regards to your father.”

Without giving Dieter a chance to respond, Doggett raised the rifle and fired a single shot, striking Dieter in the center of his forehead.  He barely had time to look surprised before he crumpled to the floor, dead before he hit the ground.

“Nice shot, John,” Griffin remarked.   “Although to be honest, I didn’t think you had it in you. At least not anymore.”

Doggett afforded him sideways glance.  “When it comes to protectin’ Jess and our family, there isn’t anythin’ I’m not capable of,” he replied evenly.

Griffin gestured at Dieter’s body. “What do want to do with him?”

“Leave him. One of his men can dispose of the body with the rest of the trash.”

“Works for me.”

Casting a final hateful glance at Dieter’s lifeless form, Doggett turned and headed out of the compound with Griffin, handing him his rifle as he did so.  Seeing him exit the house, Jessica left the confines of the truck and met him halfway, while Griffin continued toward the others.

“So?” she prompted.

“It’s done,” Doggett said simply.

“He’s dead?”

“He’s dead.”

Doggett carefully watched her expression as he admitted to killing Dieter.  He had never lied to Jessica about his past; about what he had done and was still capable of doing.  Outside of the USMC she was the only living person who knew the true nature of some his “unofficial” assignments while serving in the military. Yet confessing to her face that he had murdered a man in cold blood, regardless of what Dieter had done to them, made his stomach turn ever so slightly.

Please tell me you’re with me on this, Jess, he pleaded silently.

“Well, I don’t know about you, but I’ve had enough of this particular desert oasis,” Jessica said at last.  “Let’s go home.”

Relief flooded through Doggett and he pulled her into his arms.

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

MEXICO CITY - TWELVE HOURS LATER

Following Jessica’s rescue, she and the entourage from the Bureau decided to spend the night in Mexico City before boarding a private plane - courtesy of Elizabeth Caldwell - for the long flight home.  Griffin had disappeared along with his men, but had promised to resurface once the group was back in the States. After a brief visit to a local doctor to ensure both she and Doggett were essentially unharmed, they had joined Reyes, Skinner and Mulder for an early dinner before retreating to the privacy of their room. Once they were alone, their emotions from the past fifteen days - fear, anger, hopelessness - somehow manifested themselves into raw, sexual need.  They had made love fiercely and at length before finally following into an exhausted sleep in one another’s arms.

Jessica was the first to awaken the following morning, and she carefully withdrew from his embrace and wandered into the bathroom. Retrieving a robe from the back of the door, she slipped it on before wandering back across the bedroom and onto the balcony.  The sun was just beginning to rise as she stepped outside, and she took a deep breath of the fresh air as she sent a silent message of gratitude heavenward.

Thank you for bringing John back to me, and for keeping him safe. I owe You one.

As if sensing her absence, Doggett began to stir, and spotting her standing on the balcony, pulled on his own robe before walking outside to stand behind her. Sliding his arms around her rounded waist, he gently pulled her to him and placed a kiss on the top of her head. They stood like that in companionable silence for over a minute, enjoying the simple of joy of merely being together, before Doggett spoke first.

“I thought I was the one who was supposed to get up at the crack of dawn,” he chided.

“I wasn’t planning on staying up very long,” Jessica responded. “I just wanted to get a breath of fresh air and take care of a brief bit of unfinished business.”

“Such as…”

“I was saying thank you to God for bringing you back to me.”

He tightened his grip around her waist.  “I told Him the same thing last night.”

“How’s your memory coming along?”

“Everythin’s pretty much back in place. Whatever else is missin’ I’m sure will come back once we get home.”

She shifted in his embrace to face him. “Until you showed up at Dieter’s compound to rescue me, I wasn’t entirely sure he hadn’t killed you.  I think that scared me more than whatever he intended to do to me.”

Doggett flashed her a reassuring smile.  “It’ll take more than a petty piece of slime like Stuckhold to take me away from you, sweetheart,“ he declared.

“Promise me something.”

“Anything.”

“Promise me that no one and nothing will separate us again. Not your job or mine, or enemies from the past.  I couldn’t handle another ordeal like the one we just went through.”

Doggett’s expression turned solemn and he lifted his hands to gently cup her face in his palms.  “I can’t control the future, sweetheart, but I will swear to you that as long as it’s in my power, you and I will never be apart again. And no one’s gonna touch you or our kids.”

Jessica flashed him an adoring smile.  “Have I mentioned lately that I love you?”

“I love you, too.”

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

WASHINGTON D.C.

Three days after the events in Mexico, life was slowly returning to normal for John and Jessica. A visit to her doctor had verified the twins were unharmed, but at Barnes’ suggestion she had taken a six month leave of absence from the police force to ensure the remainder of her pregnancy would be as stress free as possible. Spooky and Semper Fi had been staying at the veterinary kennel, and having fully recovered from their own drugging, were now home wreaking their usual havoc.

Upon his return to work, Doggett had been called into Kersh’s office to give his official statement about what had happened following his and Jessica’s abduction.  At the Deputy Director’s request, Jessica had accompanied her husband to FBI Headquarters to give her own statement.  Unfortunately, being sequestered in the office after her two weeks of captivity triggered her claustrophobia, so she had excused herself and made her way to the elevator, intending to make head outside to get some fresh air.  Yet when the elevator doors opened, she found herself face to face with Reyes and Brad Follmer.

“Hello, Monica,” Jessica greeted.

“Hi, Jessica,” Reyes returned. “What are you doing here?”

“Deputy Director Kersh requested that I come into HQ with John to make my own ‘official’ statement about the kidnapping,” Jessica explained.

“Wanted to make sure your stories matched?” Reyes prompted wryly.

“Something like that,” the lieutenant allowed.

“It’s good to see you again, Lieutenant,” Follmer said. “I’m glad you and Agent Doggett were brought home safe and sound.”

“No thanks to your theory that he murdered me for my money,” Jessica countered coolly.

“I never really believed that…” Follmer began.

“Don’t patronize me, Mister Follmer. I may be blonde, but I’m not stupid.  John is respected member of this organization, not to mention the son-in-law of a United States Senator. Accusing him of murder in front of his fellow agents and a superior….well last time I checked that counts as slander.  Now from where I’m standing, it seems to me that a formal apology is in order. Otherwise I might decide to spend some of my ‘incredibly wealthy family’s’ money and file one of those frivolous lawsuits we rich folks are so fond of.”

Despite the lightness of her tone, Follmer intuitively knew Jessica was quite serious, and he forced a neutral expression as he responded.  “I think an apology can be arranged,” he said.

“I’m glad to hear it. Monica, always a pleasure.”

“Bye, Jessica.”

The lieutenant stepped into the elevator and once the doors had closed, she released a heavy sigh and leaned back against the wall. “I wonder if pregnancy induced snippiness is an acceptable excuse for making threats against your husband’s co-workers,” she muttered dryly.

Striding across the lobby, she ignored the admiring looks sent her way and headed outside.  No sooner had she stepped out of the building, however, then she was approached by a familiar face.

“Hey, pretty lady,” Griffin greeted.

“Brett,” Jessica returned.  “I figured you’d be on a plane to some exotic locale out of the country by now.”

“I have a flight leaving this afternoon,” Griffin allowed. “I swung by your house to see how you’re doing and after he kept your extremely large dogs from using me as a Human chew toy, Cameron told me that you’d be here with John.”

She nodded.  “The Deputy Director wanted him to give an official statement about what went down in Mexico, and asked me to come along.”

“Where’s John?” Griffin asked.

“He’s still inside,” Jessica responded.  “I had planned on waiting for him in his office, but I felt an attack of claustrophobia coming on, so I practically bolted out here.”

He nodded.  “Given what you’ve been through that’s understandable.”

“So has Elizabeth’s check cleared?” she inquired casually.

Griffin chuckled.  “I can see that new brother of yours is all ready wearing off on you,” he said.

“I’ll take that as a compliment.”

“As it was intended. He’s not Scott, but when push came to shove he was there when you needed him, and he and John obviously respect each other.”

Now it was the lieutenant’s turn to chuckle.  “Don’t let them hear you say that,” she replied.  “They are both convinced that them being related is God’s private joke.”

Griffin smiled. “Well, I have a plane to catch so I’d better get to Dulles,” he said. “I just wanted to make sure you and John were okay.”

“We’re fine, thanks in part to you.”

“Semper Fi, Lieutenant,” Griffin responded. “We never leave our own behind.”

“Be careful out there, Brett.”

“I will.  You and John take care of yourselves and that future cadet you’re carrying.”

Jessica returned his smile and they exchanged a hug, then Griffin faded into the crowd.  Once he was out of sight, she turned to go back inside just as Mulder walked over to her.  “Hey, you,” he greeted.

“Hey, yourself. Shouldn’t you be inside talking with Kersh?”

“I finished giving my statement so I came out here to check on you,” Mulder said.  “John’s been squirming in his seat since you left, so I figured I’d better find you before he gave himself an anxiety attack.”

“Dare I ask how the ‘meeting’ is going?”

Mulder shrugged. “As well as anything does with Kersh,” he allowed.  “I don’t think he’s entirely convinced that John really killed Dieter in self-defense, but he’s not pressing the issue.”

“Where’s Dana? Jessica asked.  “I haven’t seen her since I got here.”

“That’s because she doesn’t work on the X files anymore,” Mulder revealed casually.

“Excuse me?”

“She’s been thinking about quitting for a while, and now that Will is getting older, she wants at least one of us to have a regular work schedule. So she’s going to be teaching forensic science at Quantico.”

“Are you okay with that? You two have been partners for almost ten years.”

“I won’t deny that I’m going to miss working with her, but I want her to do what makes her happy. And besides, now that we’re not partners anymore, we can ‘come out’ so to speak with our relationship.”

“Uh-huh.”

“What does ‘uh-huh’ mean?” Mulder pressed.

“You live in the same house and she’s given birth to your child, Fox.,“ Jessica pointed out. “I think it’s pretty obvious by now that the two of you share more than a professional relationship.”

“Yeah, well, with the exception of Skinner, the higher ups at the Bureau have a collective IQ that’s lower than the population of Pluto,” Mulder countered drolly. “You’d be surprised just how much of the ‘obvious’ isn’t.”

“And you wonder why Kersh doesn’t like you.”

“Can I help it if he’s immune to my natural charm?”

His sister rolled her eyes.

“So how are you feeling?” Mulder asked, and gestured at her stomach.  “Is my little niece or nephew behaving in there?”

She smiled.  “Your niece and your nephew are doing quite well, thank you.”

His eyes widened in surprise as her remark registered.  “You’re having twins?”

“Yes, we’re havin’ twins,” Doggett confirmed from behind them, and came over to stand next to his wife.  “You okay?”

“I’m fine. Just a little claustrophobia fit, that’s all.”

He nodded, and slid an arm around her waist.  “I don’t suppose you had anythin’ to do with Follmer showin’ up at Kersh’s office to apologize for his insinuation that I killed you for cash?”

“As well he should have,” was her only response.

Doggett gave Jessica a knowing look before he shifted his attention to Mulder.  “With everythin’ that’s gone down in the past few days, I haven’t had the chance to thank you for comin’ to Mexico to find us,” he said.  “If you hadn’t been so adamant about keepin’ the investigation open, I’d still be wanderin’ around Sangradura with no memory and Jess would be Dieter’s prisoner.”

“Well I didn’t do a whole lot except piss off a few people and tag along for the ride with the rescue party,” Mulder demurred. “But I’m glad you’re both back safe and sound.”

“How did things go with Deputy Director Kersh?” Jessica asked.

“He’d be happier about what went down if Brett had been willin’ to come to HQ and corroborate my story,” Doggett replied, “but as it stands he’s gonna leave it alone.”

“I’m sorry you had to lie to him.”

“I’m not. I did what I had to in order to protect my family.”

“Speaking of family,” Jessica began. “I’d like to pay a visit to Elizabeth.”

Both men looked at her in surprise. “You’re kiddin’,” Doggett said.

“If she hadn’t hired Scott to rescue us, we wouldn’t be standing here now having this conversation.”

“If she hadn’t stolen you from our parents forty-one years ago, you would never have been exposed to Dieter in the first place,” Mulder pointed out.

“I’m well aware of her past transgression, Fox; Scott’s dead because of them.  But I don’t have it in me to spend the rest of my life hating her. That’s not the legacy Scott would have wanted for us. She’ll never be my mother again, but I need to make peace with her.”

Mulder and Doggett exchanged a look, and the latter said, “If callin’ a truce with Elizabeth is what you want, then we’ll support your decision. But I won’t recognize her as the twins’ grandmother, and she won’t be allowed in their lives.”

“Fair enough.”

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

SENATE BUILDING

Elizabeth’s secretary was nowhere in sight when Jessica and Doggett arrived at her office, so they made their way through the reception area and approached her private office.  Elizabeth was at her desk, reviewing some notes scribbled on a large note pad, and Jessica took a deep breath before addressing her.

“Hello, Elizabeth,” she greeted simply.

Elizabeth’s head shot up at her voice and she looked up to see Jessica and Doggett hovering in the doorway.  “Jessica…this is a surprise.”

“Sydney wasn’t at her desk, so we let ourselves in.”

Elizabeth nodded, and glanced at Doggett. “John,” she greeted.  “You look well.”

“Senator.”

“I understand from Brett that you’re expecting another child,” Elizabeth revealed. “Congratulations.”

“Thank you.”

“So, what can I do for the two of you? I’m assuming this isn’t a social call.”

“I came here to thank you for sending Brett to rescue us,” Jessica replied.  “If he hadn’t managed to track us down in Mexico, we’d still be there.”

“Considering I was indirectly responsible for your abduction in the first place, it was the least I could do,” Elizabeth responded.  “I don’t want to rehash old arguments, Jessica, and I am well aware of the reasons why you have cut me out of your life. But regardless of how you feel, and obviously the sentiment is shared by John and Agent Mulder, I am still your mother.  I love you; I will always love you. And I pray that your child never has to experience any of the things I put you through.”

“Count on it,” Doggett assured her evenly, earning him an admonishing look from Jessica.

Elizabeth, however, merely gave them a faint smile at Doggett’s barely restrained resentment.  “I appreciate you both coming here,” she responded pointedly.  “I know it wasn’t a mutual decision.”

“Scott would have wanted you and Jess to make peace,” Doggett said simply.

“Well, I’m sure you have a lot of work to do so we’ll let you get to it,” Jessica said.  “I just wanted to thank you in person, and let you know that we really are all right.”

“I’m glad.”

Elizabeth and Jessica exchanged a tentative smile, and then the latter exited the room. Doggett started out a step behind her, but stopped when Elizabeth called to him.

“John…” He turned expectantly.  “Brett also told me about what transpired between you and Dieter. I’m sorry that it had to come to that.”

“I’m sure he and his old man will save you a seat in hell for the sentiment,” Doggett retorted, and left the office.

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

EPILOGUE: FALLS CHURCH - FOUR MONTHS LATER

It was certainly a Christmas none of them would forget.  Following the others’ return from Mexico, Scully had officially resigned from the X files. Now that they were no longer work partners, she and Mulder made the decision to go public with their relationship as life partners, and one week later he officially proposed. The wedding was planned for Christmas Eve, and the couple invited only Skinner, Margaret Scully and the Doggetts.  Yet no sooner had they finished their vows then Jessica went into labor with the twins, and after what Scully had dubbed “an annoyingly easy delivery”, the newest members of the Doggett family had made their debut in the early morning hours of December 25^th. Although understandably exhausted, Jessica had refused to spend the holiday in the hospital, and so after a lengthy exam by the doctors to ensure mother and children were well, John brought them home that afternoon. Their day had been spent fielding calls from family and friends to wish them a happy holiday and congratulate them, and Scully and Mulder had dropped by before leaving for their honeymoon.

The twins were sound asleep side by side in a large bassinet next to the Christmas tree, and Jessica was curled against John on the couch.  Spooky and Semper Fi were positioned on either side of the bassinet, having assumed guardianship of the babies from the moment they had been brought home. To everyone’s frustration, Doggett and Jessica had refused to divulge the twins’ names until after they had been brought home, and now Mulder and Scully were anxious to find out what to call their new niece and nephew.

“Okay, this has gone on long enough,” Mulder declared.  “We’ve been here for almost an hour and you two have yet to call your children by name. It’s just ‘the babies this’ or ‘the twins that’.  We want to know what their names are.”

John and Jessica exchanged a look, then the latter said, “Well in honor of the date of her birth, our daughter’s name is Grace Noelle Doggett.”

“That’s a beautiful name,” Scully replied.

“Isn’t there some family tradition that your son has to be named after his father and one of the books of the Bible?” Mulder asked.

“There is,” Doggett confirmed, “but Jess and I talked about it and we decided that we wanted to break the tradition in order to honor someone we both care about. So, it is with great pleasure that we tell you our son’s name is Matthew Mulder Doggett.”

It took almost thirty seconds for the name to register, and when it did Mulder’s eyes widened in surprise. “You’re naming him after me?”

“Yes,” Jessica confirmed. “And we’d also like you and Dana to be the twins’ Godparents.”

Scully and Mulder exchanged a look before the former flashed the Doggetts a delighted smile. “We would be honored to be their Godparents,” she said. “Thank you.”

“Well now that the Hallmark moment is out of the way, let’s open the gifts,” Mulder declared.

Scully rolled her eyes in exasperation as Mulder walked over to the tree and began sorting through the gifts.  Finding the one he was searching for, he picked it up and walked over to hand it to his sister.

“Open this one first,” he requested.

“Okay.”

Plucking the small gift card off the wrapper, she read it aloud:  “For Jessica - Just a little something to let the rest of the world know where you belong. - Love, Fox”

Shooting her brother a curious glance, Jessica ripped off the paper and pulled the lid off the box.  At first glance it appeared to be a plain gray T-shirt, but when she turned it over, the message on the front made sense of Mulder’s note. In black, block letters, the shirt declared that the wearer was the “Property of John Doggett”.

“You’re a dead man, Mulder,” Doggett declared.
 

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

El Fin.

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