Disclaimers in Chapter One



Residual Effect



Chapter Four



Their waiter quietly and quickly placed their drinks on the table before

retreating to the kitchen. Abbie wrapped her fingers around her coffee,

letting the warmth of the liquid seep into her hands. Dana took a sip of

her scotch swallowing just a tad more than she intended. A crook of a smile

sneaking onto the corner of Abbie’s mouth as Dana shuddered.



"Listen Abbie," Dana sighed, "What I said was way out of line. I’m in no

position to judge."



"Dana."



"No, listen, I’ve had my share of bad relations. Sex with a murderer, been

there, definitely done that." Dana admitted. She lifted two fingers,

emphasizing her point. "Twice."



Abbie’s eyebrows rose slightly. Her mouth opening to a silent ‘ah’.



"So, after all these years, we still have a few things in common." Dana

continued. "And I’d never judge you."



Abbie met her eyes momentarily, checking to see that Dana’s words were true

and not some way to finagle the truth out of her. She looked back down

towards her drink, downing the remainder of her coffee in long swallow.



"Jesus," she finally sighed, "I need something stronger. Waiter!"



The young man tentatively walked towards their table, not wanting to come

between another round of fireworks. Abbie flashed her Texas smile easing

the boy’s concerns.



"Do you have Jack Daniels?"



"Yes, Ma’am."



<Ma’am>, Scully thought, <she’s gonna eat him alive for that>.



"I’ll have two shots," Abbie continued, "One straight, the other on the

rocks. And another scotch for her, she’s gonna need it."



"Okay, what was once general concern has now been upgraded to officially

worried."



Abbie snickered at the comment, running a shaky hand through her hair. It

had been awhile since Dana had seen her do that. Her mind meandered for a

moment, recalling those ebony locks cascading over her and the look of

ecstasy that usually followed.



"Dana Katherine Scully." Abbie softly called to her.



"What?"



"I come to you in a time of need and you’re thinking about sex?"



"Am not."



"Then why are you blushing?"



"Drinking scotch remember, I’m flushed."



The two paused for a moment then burst into a fit of giggles. The waiter

returned with their drinks, a sigh of relief passing through his lips.

Thankful to catch the two in a moment of levity, he cautiously asked if

they ’d need a menu. Scully nodded her reply, remembering that this

conversation was probably going to occur over multiple drinks. And she had

no desire to continue it over an empty stomach.



"God, I missed you, Dana." Abbie confessed.



Dana looked at her through the top of her menu. "I missed you too."



"Just not enough to call, eh?" Abbie downed her first shot, feeling the

liquid burn in her belly. "Sorry, that was a low shot. How about I just

start talking?"



"I’m listening."



"Shit," Abbie leaned back in her seat settling in. This was going to be a

long one. "I’d just lost a pretty big case. Well, lost wouldn’t be the

accurate phrase, more like raked over the coals and left with my ass

hanging."



"That good huh?"



"Yeah, Jack chewed my ass out. I just wanted out, ya know. To get away."



"Has it been that bad?"



"Not bad really, but Jack’s hippie-love attitude and me, well, fire and

water. We’re not gelling. And him ending the conversation with the phrase

‘you need to get laid’ didn’t help much. So I did, went to the nearest

lesbian bar I could find. And.."



"Drank yourself silly." Dana finished.



"Bingo," Abbie raised her glass in compliance, taking a generous sip before

continuing, "And like every cliché in every movie I’ve ever seen, there she

was. Sitting at the bar. I was two sheets to the wind by that time. Not

that it mattered. There was this connection you know. That moment. Like

when I met you."



Dana cocked an eyebrow at the last comment. Not that she could stop Abbie

at this point. The liquor had taken effect and if Dana had learned anything

it’ s never stop a Southerner when they’re in the middle of a story.



"We started talking and she actually listened. I mean, I meet a lot of

people and when I start talking about ‘the Job’ they get that glassy eyed

look."



Dana nodded her head to the comment. She’d seen it herself many a time. A

potential suitor learning that she worked for the FBI, yet never wanting to

hear anything that might shatter their romantic notions.



"I’m yapping, flirting up a storm. She looks me dead in the eye and asks me

if I want to kiss her. Next thing I know I’m pressed up against my car, her

hands down my pants and I’m getting laid in the parking lot." Abbie huffed,

shaking her head incredulously.



"How long did this relationship last?" Dana asked, a tinge of jealousy

creeping into her belly. It used to be her that made Abbie happy. The one

that made her moan and scream crying into the night. Why had she been so

quick to end it?



"Three weeks."



"Three weeks? That’s it?"



"What do you want me to say, Dana? Six months? A year?"



"And does this siren have a name?"



Abbie paused a moment, shifting her eyes downward. Here it comes, Dana

thought dryly.



"Amarice," Abbie whispered, "Full name, Jane Amarice Doe."



Dana’s face went from surprise, to shock, to recognition. The pieces

falling into place.



"Oh..my..God." She finally stammered. The bits of news reports she’d

watched over the past few weeks coming into the forefront of her brain.



"Jesus Abbie."



"I don’t pick the easy ones do I?"



New York businessman and social climber, Charles Esterhart, his wife, son,

and one Pastor Allan Pate had been found bludgeoned and stabbed to death in

Esterhart’s home. Amarice with weapon in hand and fingerprints all over the

murder weapons. Dana should have known Abbie was referring to this case.

The type of high profile case that the District Attorney’s office thrived

upon.

The cases usually reserved for the DA's ‘big guns’.



"Abbie, are you sure you should be telling me this?"



"Dana, you’re the only one I can trust with this. I truly wish this was an

open and shut case. But it’s not and it keeps getting stranger by the

minute. I can’t tell Jack what’s happened, he’ll pull me off the case."



"And you trust her not to say anything. Once this gets to trial, one peep

from her and it’s all over with."



"I know Dana, I know. I don’t think she’ll say anything. I’ve talked to

her.."



"You’ve talked to her!?! Abbie, have you gone insane?"



"Yeah," Abbie snorted, "I think I have. Just hear me out okay. Okay?" Abbie

waited as Dana settled in her seat. "You once told me that you’d always be

there for me."



"Abbie."



"No Dana. That when I needed you that you’d be there. I need you now.

Please Dana." Abbie reached across the table, clasping Dana’s hand, her

eyes practically begging the agent. It had been a long time since Dana had

seen Abbie truly frightened. This was one of them. Everything was on the

line for her, and Dana the only one she could turn to. That she trusted.



"Believe me Dana, if this were an open and shut case, I wouldn’t be here

now. Something just isn’t right here and I need your help to find the

truth."



"For starters?" Dana asked. In a nanosecond, Dana resigned herself. Turned

her faith, heart, wisdom over to helping the woman sitting across from her.



And God help this Amarice person if she was wrong. Abbie released her hand

and leaned back in her seat. Elbows on the table, Abbie gesticulating as

she talked.



"For starters, the timeline’s all fucked. I’m not talking OJ timeline here

either. Sure Jack and I could work around it but not without a fight from

her attorney’s. Did I tell you who she’s got on her team?" Abbie paused for

dramatic effect, "Jamie Ross."



"Didn’t she used to work for the D.A.?"



"Yep, right in the very same office I’m in. Pitching for the other team

now.

They’ve got private donations out the ass, some of which are coming from

the church." Abbie could see the gleam in Dana’s eye. "Dana, I’ve got nuns

camped out on my doorstep proclaiming her innocence. They’ve got character

witnesses out the ass for her. So we keep digging and find another chink in

our proverbial armor, a videotape that corroborates Amarice’s timeline.

Hell, even Jack’s starting to get a little skeptical."



"A little?"



"Well, a little for Jack meaning a millimeter in human terms. Now we’re

having to rethink our entire strategy. What was once a sure fire conviction

just might wind up being thrown out the window."



"Isn’t that what you want, Abbie?"



"If only it were that easy." Abbie reached into her briefcase pulling out a

file folder and handing it to Dana. "Last night, someone slipped that under

my door."



Dana opened the file. It was copies of a military record. Amarice’s record.



Scully flipped through the pages. What she could read. Page after page

having large portions blacked out, including Amarice’s real name.



"Jesus. She’s a marine." Dana spoke as she perused Amarice’s record. "No,

Navy Seal. High marks in weapons training, martial arts, tactics. Two

disciplinary marks for assault."



"Yeah, a veritable killing machine."



"Abbie, I don’t understand. Have you shown this to Jack?"



"God no. That folder pretty much seals our case. We might have a shitty

timeline, and no motive, but we definitely have means. Post traumatic

stress disorder. Mental incapacity. She is an amnesiac after all."



"But, you don’t think so."



"C’mon Dana, don’t you find it a tad suspicious that the moment our case

begins to fall apart the answer appears gift wrapped on my front doorstep."



Dana mulled over the thought. She pulled a page with Amarice’s picture on

it; African-American, from the tint of her skin and bone structure probably

of mixed race. Smooth lines, average looking Dana considered. An

average-ness that was probably an asset considering her line of work.

Someone who could blend in with the background, Dana thought, someone who

wouldn’t be too obvious. She stared at her eyes, dark, like coal on a

moon-less night. Not like Abbie’s. Abbie’s had a sparkle to them. These

eyes were cold. A killer’s eyes. A shudder ran down Dana’s spine. The

thought that someone so cold could bring such warmth to Abbie’s heart.



"Do you love her?" Dana never took her eyes off the photo.



"What?"



"C’mon Abbie, it’s not a hard question."



"Did you love him? You know, the guy you slept with who was a murderer?"

She asked the question with no sarcasm, no bitterness.



"I don’t know. I think I could have."



"Yeah, I know the feeling." Abbie sighed deeply, sinking further into the

faux leather couch. Her eyes wandered towards the window, staring blankly

at the falling snow. "I just want to be sure."



**



After several hours of coaxing, a slight case of bait and switch, and a few

more drinks, Dana managed to convince the attorney to stay at her place

rather than check into a hotel.



Dana sat at the edge of her bed watching the attorney sleep. It took every

ounce of strength Dana had not to crawl into bed and curl up next to the

lanky frame. For the time being, Dana contented herself by watching her

sleep. She lightly brushed her fingertips across Abbie’s forehead, fixing a

stray hair.



The attorney had dressed down in an old burnt orange (that’s what Dana

called the color, Abbie disagreed, preferring the phrase ‘sacred orange’)

UT tee-shirt and matching boxer shorts, both of which were Abbie’s. A tinge

of embarrassment crept onto Dana’s face as she explained that she didn’t

have the heart to throw them away; leaving out that she occasionally slept

in them. The scent of Abbie had long since washed away, but something about

it always made Dana feel comfortable.



Abbie moaned slightly at the touch on her forehead before rolling over

mumbling something incoherent. Just like old times, Dana mused silently.

Slowly, Dana eased off the bed, walking into the den.



Amarice’s military file called to Dana like a beacon. She grabbed the

manila folder, sitting down at her computer. Like Abbie had said, it was

all too convenient. Dana flipped through the blackened pages. Everything

they needed to convict Amarice was right there. But, anything that would

give a clue as to who the woman was, remained a mystery.



Dana scanned online through the FBI database for anything pertaining to the

case. Finding nothing new that Abbie hadn’t told her already, or brought

with her. If there was one thing about the ADA, she definitely was

thorough.



Almost content with her official search, more exhausted than anything, Dana

shut off her computer. She knew that if she was going to help Abbie, she’d

need to look in places other than ‘official channels’.



Dana placed her glasses on the desk before stretching to get the last kinks

out. She turned off her desk lamp, passing by the window to close the

shades. Dana peered through the blinds sub-consciously, her eyes drawn to

the tiny red light burning across the street.



She blinked, wiping some of the exhaustion from her eyes, finally noticing

the car parked across from her street. Although Dana couldn’t see the

occupants, she could see the burning cherry of a lit cigarette in the

driver ’s seat. Dana closed the blinds ever so slightly, leaving a tiny

crevice open. She peered for a couple moments, the hairs on the back of her

head standing on edge. There could be several logical reasons why the car

was there, least of which being coincidence.



A man approached the car. Opening the passenger’s side, he looked towards

Dana’s apartment complex before getting into the car.



Seven years on the X-Files had taught Dana several things. One was always

keep a pair of comfortable shoes nearby. Something Dana put into effect as

she slipped on an old pair of Sorel’s.



Dana eyed the closed blind as she reached into her desk drawer, her hand

wrapping around the handle of her semi-automatic as she pulled the weapon

from its harness. With quiet confidence, Dana turned off the safety and

edged herself out the front door.



The hallway clear, Dana made her way towards the stairs, her boots clunking

on the steps as she hustled down several flights to ground level. The

silence of the stairwell was deafening, threatening to smother Dana with

its silence. Even as her keys jangled loudly in her pocket, boots clunking

on the steps, it wasn’t enough to break the eerie silence that permeated

within the walls.



As Dana thundered through the front entrance, she could hear the sound of

an ignition turning. Boots crunching on the newly fallen snow, Scully

stormed her way towards the parked car. Her federal instincts screamed at

her as she shucked protocol, caution and common sense to the wind,

preferring brazen and open.



The driver stepped on the accelerator. Car tires slinging ice and slush,

the back end lurched wildly to the left before the wheels took hold on the

concrete.



"Hey!" Dana screamed as the car sped down the street, watching as the

vehicle turned sharply around a corner. She scanned the street, eyeing

everything with suspicion.



Dana stood in the middle of the street for several moments; ignoring the

cold that was blowing across her body, chilling the tiny beads of

perspiration that had formed on her skin. Content that her new watchers

wouldn’t be returning, for now, Dana turned and headed back into her

apartment complex.



Dana sat on her couch, thumbing through Amarice’s file once more. The words

before her, no different than what was printed earlier. Still, she hoped to

glean some information. Something innocuous that she might have missed

before, that might be the key to everything.



She could feel the anger twitching in her belly, squirming and circling in

her gut like a tiny snake waiting for the moment to uncoil. Dana had spent

the last seven years with unseen forces swirling about her, tossing she and

Mulder about like flotsam and jetsam in a conspiratorial sea. But now, the

forces circling weren’t for her, they were for Abbie. And that disturbed

her more than anything. The tiny pieces that Abbie had become involved in

were part of a larger, more ominous puzzle that had yet to reveal itself.

All revolving around the puzzle piece known as Amarice Jane Doe.



Dana turned her pistol’s safety on, returning the gun to its holster. The

men that were staking her home probably wouldn’t return tonight, but they

would return. Hopefully, Dana would be ready. Working on the X-Files had

taught Dana many things. Most importantly ­ there were no such things as

coincidences.



End Chapter Four