XJedi 2
Chapter 2
"Planes, Trains, and Flying Saucers-- Earth"

by JackeeC, Gheorghe2 and ginef (all at @aol.com)

DISCLAIMERS:  see Chapter 1

SUMMARY:  XF/Star Wars crossover. Action/adventure with a case (sort of). 
UST (but maybe not between who you'd expect). Humor. Angst. Upsetting 
imagery. Third season spoilers. A few bad words. 

BACKGROUND: A few months after the end of X Jedi, Luke Skywalker, Han 
Solo and Leia Organa Solo realize they've left some unfinished business on 
Earth. Meanwhile, Agent Mulder is experiencing an usual physical anomoly. 
And both Mulder and Scully are beginning to have alarming flashbacks 
about flying primates
*****************************
Chapter 2
"Planes, Trains, and Flying Saucers-- Earth"
*****************************

Location Unknown 11:25 PM

	The man sat in a high backed chair, a cigarette dangling from his 
lips, the smoke swirling around his head like a genie just released from a 
bottle. His demeanor was calm, but for a slight tremble of his hand. When the 
phone next to him rang, he did not move, waiting until the fourth ring.
	Then he answered.
	"Yes," he said, listening quietly as the person on the other end 
spoke. He took in a huge lung full of smoke and exhaled before replying. 
"What if I can assure that he will be ineffectual?"
	He listened silently.
	"Consider it done," he said and hung up.
	He snubbed out his smoke before reaching for the phone again, 
dialing from memory.
	"Take care of it... tonight," he said to the voice at the other end.
	Slowly he returned the phone to its cradle again and leaned back, 
lighting another cigarette.

*	*	*	*
Langley, VA CIA Headquarters Two weeks later Monday 3:30 PM
	Special Agent Fox Mulder cracked open another sunflower seed with 
his teeth and pocketed the shell. How his drycleaner hated him, lectured him 
on a regular basis about how the often forgotten shells bunked up his 
machinery. He shook his head and pocketed another one before turning his 
attention back to the man on the other side of the glass window.
	Despite the fact that he found himself in a standard interrogation 
room, this was no standard interrogation. Watching the mild looking little 
man, who happened be the CIA's most proficient translator of Russian, 
struggle to read a page from Solzhenitsyn's "Day in the Life of Ivan 
Denisovich" was downright painful. Actually, struggling was not even the right 
word. He was staring at the page with a totally blank expression. He simply 
could not read a single word of it. The man finally put his head down on his 
arms, sobbing in frustration.
	"Agent Skokie, what you're saying is that Agent Marselas, a man with 
a PhD in Russian history from Columbia, a man who has been translating for 
this agency for 25 years could no longer find a bus station in Moscow?" 
Mulder heard Scully asking when he was finally able to tear his eyes away.  
	"That's exactly what I'm saying, Agent Scully," replied the disheveled 
CIA operative who sat at the table, working on a cigarette. "You just saw it for 
yourself."   
	"How could that happen? Was he involved in some sort an accident? 
Did he receive any type of head trauma?" Scully asked.   
	"Not that we could find. We ran a complete physical on him and he's 
perfectly healthy." The man took a drag on his smoke before going on. "We 
were sitting in Turkey monitoring Russian radio signals. One day he was fine. 
The next he was gone--"  
	"Gone?" Mulder asked from his seat in the corner. "What do you 
mean gone?"  
	Skokie turned his calculating eyes on him and considered his words 
a moment before answering. "Gone, Agent Mulder, like I said. He turned up 
48 hours later on the other side of Trabizond."  
	"What kind of physical condition was he in?" Scully asked.  
	"He seemed to be fine, but like I said we ran a physical just to be 
sure."  
	"Why didn't you mention the disappearance before?" Mulder said, 
getting up and beginning to pace.  
	"Standard CIA procedure," Skokie shrugged, butting out his 
cigarette.  
	"Was he able to offer any sort of explanation for the 
disappearance?" Mulder asked.  
	Skokie ran his hand through his short beard. "Nope. That was the 
strange part, he didn't even realize he'd been gone. He has no memory of 
those two days."  
	"Missing time," Mulder said under his breath, which earned him a 
stern stare from his partner.   
	"What?" Skokie asked.  
	"Abductees often experience periods of missing time."  
	"Abductees of what, Agent Mulder?" the CIA man asked, suspicion 
rising. "And don't even start with your UFO crap."  
	Mulder ignored the statement, "Can we speak to Agent Marselas?

*	*	*	*  
	Twenty minutes later Mulder and Scully sat across the desk from the 
Russian translator. Marselas was a slight man with large blue eyes. His 
unkempt hair looked like it could use a good washing as did his standard 
federal employee issue blue suit, which was a size too large. He was 
chewing nervously on the fingernails of his left hand. "So, what's this about?" 
he finally asked.   
	"Actually, that's what we wanted to ask you, Agent Marselas," Scully 
said, in her best soothing voice. "Can you tell us about what's happened to 
you?"  
	Marselas looked at his partner, who was standing in the corner. 
"Didn't Skokie fill you in?" he asked.  
	"He did," Mulder said. "But we'd like to hear your version. What's the 
last thing you remember before you went missing?"  
	Marselas started in the on the nails of his right hand. "I was in my 
apartment. Everything after that is a blank..."

*	*	*	*  
	Strained silence accented the ride back to DC as Mulder drove and 
Scully stared absently out the window. Mulder stole a sideways glance at his 
partner but she caught him and took the opening. "So, you want to tell me 
what's going on?"  
	"What do you mean?" Mulder replied, putting the onus back on her.   
	"You could start by explaining why this is the fourth case in the last 
two weeks where we went out to talk with people who seem to have lost 
their," Scully struggled for the right word, "abilities. The pianist in New York 
City. The painter in Cincinnati. The surgeon in Atlanta. And now this 
translator."  
	"Missing time, Scully," he said, reaching for another sunflower seed. 
"Missing time."   
	"I think there's more to it than that. What gives, Mulder?"  
	"Don't you see anything inherently strange about these cases? It's 
almost like..." he trailed off. Another glance assured him that Scully wasn't 
letting him off the hook that easily. "It almost seems as if something was 
taken from them."  
	"Taken? What? How?" Scully asked.   
	"I don't know. It's like their... life force or something," he replied. Scully 
stared idly out the window considering the word "force" and why it seemed 
so familiar. She looked over at a car on the side of the Parkway, coolant 
spilling from its busted radiator. Something was tugging at the edge of her 
consciousness...  
	Mulder noticed her distraction seized the opportunity to change the 
subject. "Guess they should have checked the coolant," he commented. 
Scully barely nodded a response, her brows furrowed furiously. A heavy 
stale smell. Heat.  Being locked in a closet. No...  not a closet... Mulder trying 
to pry something open. Coolant leaking all around her. Mulder's "Uh-oh" 
expression. The door sliding open to reveal a man standing before them 
wearing a mutinous expression.  "Scully!" Mulder's voice snapped her out of 
the thought. "Your phone's ringing."  
	"Huh?" she replied. Then registered what he'd said and grabbed her 
phone. "Scully... Oh, hi, mom.... You're kidding, she didn't..."    Monday 11:21 
PM  
	Mulder fumbled with the keys in his door and hurried to grab his 
ringing phone. "Hello?"  
	"Mulder, it's me. Where have you been?" came Scully's voice on the 
other end of the line.  
	"Out running. Why?"  
	"Skinner called me this evening. You probably have an e-mail. He 
wants us on a plane to Milwaukee first thing in the morning."  
	"Why?"  
	"That McDonalds killer. Wisconsin Violent Crimes finally asked for a 
consult." The silence on the line surprised her. "I thought you'd be a bit more 
enthusiastic, Mulder."  
	"Sorry. I'm just tired. What time's our flight?"  
	"Eight thirty. Want me to pick you up?"  
	"No, I'll meet you at the gate. E-mail me the flight info, okay?"  
	"Uh, sure. Night." she said, and hung up.  
	Mulder returned the phone to its cradle. I'm in big trouble, he thought. 
Then, resigned to his fate, trudged to his computer to get the flight info he was 
sure Scully would be sending him any moment.   
	As he waited for his computer to boot up he considered his 
predicament and his options. He could fess up to Scully. Not an attractive 
option. He could feign food poisoning and postpone the inevitable. Or he 
could go to Wisconsin and hope for the best. Door number three seemed the 
most reasonable. His computer beeped cheerily that he had four messages 
in his mailbox. One from Skinner. Two from Scully-- the flight information and 
copy of the McDonalds killer file. And one from Frohike. He scanned the note 
from Skinner, printed out both files from Scully and considered leaving the 
one from Frohike untill he got home. In the end curiosity won out.   
	Subject: Thought you'd want to know  
	Mulder, Thought you'd be interested. Your friend from the CIA had a 
self inflicted accident tonight. The following just went out over the wire... "CIA 
veteran John Marselas was found dead of an apparent suicide in his 
McLean, Virginia home tonight..."  
	Mulder switched off his computer, unable to read anymore.     
American Airlines Flight 101 Tuesday 10:03 AM   
	Well, moody and brooding seems to be the order of the day, Scully 
thought with a  glance at her partner, who was seated next to her picking at 
his airline breakfast. Of course moody and brooding had seemed to be the 
order of the day for the past couple of weeks. Not that Mulder was ever 
cheerful, even at the best of times. But something was definitely going on with 
him. Something he was not ready to talk about. "Ah, I just love reconstituted 
eggs in the morning," he commented, shoving his tray away untouched.   
	"I've told you a million times to order the vegetarian special meal. At 
least the food is edible," she said as she looked down at her fruit salad and 
bagel. "You want half a bagel?"   
	Mulder grinned. "Trying to feed me. You must be worried."   
	"I'm not worried. Just concerned."  
	"To-mae-to. Tomato."   
	"Mulder, you have to admit you've been acting a little strangely 
lately."  
	"Scully, when have you ever known me not to act strangely?"  
	"You have to admit you've been acting more strangely than usual 
lately."  
	"I'm fine," he said, trying to keep the anxiety out of his voice. "Really."  
	Scully pinned him with her gaze for a minute, then sighed and handed 
him half of her bagel.   Port Washington Blvd. Crime Scene Milwaukee, 
Wisconsin 11:30 AM   
	Mulder parked the rental just outside the area cordoned off by yellow 
police tape and turned off the ignition. He gripped the steering wheel, 
steeling himself for the ordeal to come.  You can do this, he told himself. 
"Mulder?" Scully's questioning voice brought him back. "Are you--"  
	"I'm fine," he said a little more sharply than he intended. For a 
moment he thought about apologizing, but instead climbed out of the car and 
walked toward the agent who was already headed their way. Scully got out 
of the car and followed.   
	"Agent Mulder?" said the dark-haired junior, extending his hand to 
shake Mulder's. "I'm Agent Ito. Thanks for getting here on such short notice."   
	"No problem," Mulder replied, scanning the scene. When Scully 
finally caught up to him he said. "Agent Ito, this is my partner, Agent Scully."  
	The young man smiled and extended his hand again. "Thanks for 
coming Agent Scully. I've arranged for you to conduct the most recent 
autopsy. The county coroner will assist you if that's okay."  
	Scully smiled at Ito. "That's fine. I know you, don't I?"  
	"Yes, ma'am. From Quantico. I was in one of your Forensics lectures, 
Dr. Scully."  
	"Oh, right. I remember," she replied and then leaned a little closer 
and lowered her voice. "And it's just Scully."  
	She could have sworn that Ito blushed. "Okay, Scully," he said, trying 
out the name like a new toy. "If you'll follow me SAIC Bennet is right this way."  
	As soon as Ito was out of earshot Mulder leaned over and 
whispered, "Flirting with the youngsters, Agent Scully. Shame on you."  
	"Jealous, Mulder?" she shot back.  
	"What if I was?" he replied, a little more seriously than he intended.  
	Scully laughed and giving him a bump with her shoulder, headed  off 
after Ito. Mulder took a deep breath before joining her.   

*	*	*	*  
	"The body was found over here. In a garbage can, just like the 
others," Bennet was saying as they perused the scene.  
	"The trauma to the body matched that of the other victims?" Mulder 
asked, working on the shell of a sunflower seed.  
	"To a 'T', Agent Mulder," Ito replied.  
	"And the cause of death was strangulation?" Mulder asked.  
	Bennet nodded. "Time of death was approximately 14 hours before 
the discovery of the body."   
	"Scully, do you mind if I borrow your notebook?"  
	"Why?" she asked, startled.  
	"To take some notes," Mulder replied, as if he did so all the time.  
	Scully struggled to hide the surprise on her face as she handed her 
notebook over. Mulder's eidetic memory had always eliminated the need to 
take notes in the past. He usually kept everything in that head of his. She 
watched in amazement as he really did jot down some information. Scully 
pulled the file open and looked at the preliminary forensics report and 
looked for something that had caught her attention earlier. "It says here she 
was 12. That's about four years older than the other victims. Any idea why?"  
	Ito shook his head. "That's why we asked you to come. We heard 
you where the best there was." Ito said as Mulder wandered off.   
	"We'll do our best," Scully replied. "I better get down to the morgue. 
Will you bring Agent Mulder back to town after he's finished examining the 
scene?"   
	"Of course," Ito replied.    Lakeview Motor Lodge 8:07 PM 
	  
	Seven hours later Scully knocked on the door of Mulder's hotel room. 
When he opened it she pushed a copy of her notes into his hand, walked 
past him and collapsed onto the bed. "My feet are killing me."  
	"How'd it go?" Mulder asked, plopping down next to her.  
	"Oh, fine. Except for the usual male chauvinist coroner," she sighed. 
"The autopsy turned up nothing new. The killer seems to be sticking to his 
pattern. What'd you find?"  
	"Not much. These guys seem to have a pretty good handle on it."  
	Scully made the supreme effort to roll her head to the side and look 
at him but then she decided she was too tired. "If you order Chinese, I'll be 
your best friend."  
	"Consider it done, Agent Scully. Now, go hit the shower," he said, 
opening the phone book to the restaurant section. He quickly selected a 
number and grabbed the phone as Scully got up to go.  
	"Good idea," Scully replied, as she watched Mulder double check 
the number three times before he dialed, struggling with his memory for the 
second time that she'd witnessed that day. She debated saying something 
but decided to wait.  
	"By the way, I booked us seats on the first flight home tomorrow," he 
called after her as he waited for the Golden Dragon to answer their phone. 
Scully stopped and turned around, waiting for an explanation. "I told them I'd 
fax anything I had to add," he said and then turned his attention to the person 
on the phone. "Hi, I'd like to place an order for delivery..."     2:34 AM  
	Scully's head popped up as a short gasp escaped her lips. She 
looked around, surveying the empty Chinese food containers illuminated by 
the flickering television set. She turned her head to the side and saw that 
Mulder was out cold, his face hiding under a pillow. Scully sighed. This 
wasn't the first time they'd fallen asleep together, but she could never seem 
to shake the feeling that it was somehow inappropriate. Not that anything, 
except drooling and snoring, had ever happened. Mulder had always been 
a perfect gentleman. Which brought up the question, why he had never tried 
anything? Which led to the even more dangerous, how would she react if he 
did? Scully shook her head. She certainly wasn't going to explore those 
questions any further. At least not now. Reaching out, she gave Mulder's leg 
a slug and stated the obvious, "We fell asleep."  
	Mulder's head shot up, pillow flying, arms splaying, seeking his 
firearm. "What?"  
	"We fell asleep," Scully repeated.  
	"Well, let me be the first to thank you for waking me up to report that 
fact."  
	"My pleasure. We missed the end of the movie."  
	Mulder took in the television's snow storm. "So, is this fact based on 
your scientific analysis of the situation, Dr. Scully?"  
	"God, Mulder, you're awfully witty at," she rolled over to look at the 
clock, "at 2:30 in the morning."  
	"Well, yeah, that's me, Witty Mulder."  
	"I thought it was Spooky Mulder."  
	"I changed it, didn't I tell you? Witty just seemed to fit my free spirited 
personality so much more accurately. Don't you think?"  
	Scully threw her pillow at him, which he used to cover his face again. 
"I should go," she said, but didn't make the move to leave. She could feel the 
pull of sleep begin to envelope her again, taking her back to the strange 
dream she'd been having about... a talking primate who could fly a 
spaceship. I have been around Mulder too long, she smiled as she went 
under.  
	"Scully," Mulder's voice brought her back to that place just between 
being awake and asleep.   
	"Huh?" she groaned.  
	"I was having the strangest dream before...about this big foot like 
creature who could fly a spaceship."  
	Scully sat up like she'd been fired from a cannon. "What?"    

*	*	*	*  
	Half an hour later Scully sat huddled against the fake wood 
headboard, a pillow pulled tightly against her stomach. "What you're saying 
is that you honestly think you and I were flying around with a talking monkey 
in another universe," Scully exclaimed.  
	"Do you have a better explanation?" Mulder asked from where he 
was lying, sprawled out on the end of the bed.  
	"There are plenty of documented cases of people having similar 
dreams--"  
	"Scully, stop."   
	"Stop what? Looking for a rational answer?"  
	Mulder sat up and leaned forward till his face was mere inches away 
from hers. She hated it when he invaded her personal space like this. It was 
the same thing he did when questioning suspects. He was trying to use his 
physical size and those damn penetrating eyes of his to intimidate her into 
seeing it his way. "When there is no rational explanation can we not at least 
look to the realm of the irrational, Dr. Scully," he said smugly.  
	She shoved the pillow into his face, forcing him back down. "No," she 
said.   
	Mulder tossed the pillow back at her. "Does the name Luke mean 
anything to you?" Her short intake of breath gave her away before she had 
the chance to deny it. "Scully, I know you haven't wanted to talk about it, but 
what if we don't know where we were before we woke up at Georgetown 
University Medical Centre."  
	Scully had to admit that was true. Neither she nor Mulder had any 
memory of getting there. But that's where they'd woken up with four 
unaccounted for days. And then there were those strange e-mails.... "Scully?" 
Mulder's voice derailed her train of thought. "What about a gold robot?"  
	Scully let her head drop to her knees. She was motionless for a 
moment and then nodded. "And a woman with...," she added bringing her 
eyes to meet his.        Mulder nodded. "A really, uh, unusual hair style."  
	Scully ran her hand through her hair. "We're in really big trouble. You 
know that, don't you?" she said, throwing the pillow at him again.  
	"Hey, it's not my fault," Mulder whined.  
	"Oh, I'm sure it is. I just haven't figured out how yet."    Scully's 
Apartment Wednesday 10:01 PM   
	Scully sat in front of her computer checking out a couple of her 
favourite websites in the hopes it would relax her enough so that she could 
get some sleep. It was working so well that when the phone next to her rang 
she nearly flew out of her chair. "Hello?" she said, thinking it was a bit early 
for Mulder to be calling.  
	"Dana, it's your mother," her mom said, as if she needed identifying.  
	"Hi, mom. How are you?"  
	"Just fine. I was calling to see how your trip went?" she said.  
	Scully sighed. "Fine. Can't really talk about it."  
	Her mom, who was used to that answer by now, changed the subject. 
"How's Fox?"             Scully smiled and wondered again how her mother had 
managed to earn the distinction of calling him that. Something special had 
certainly passed between Mulder and her mother during the time that she'd 
been missing. Missing. She felt her stomach tightened as she reflected a 
moment on the fact that she may have been missing again. Her fingers went 
unconsciously to the little scar on the back of her neck seeking a new 
implant. It was about the eightieth time she'd checked since she and Mulder 
had shared their "dreams" in that hotel room.  "Dana?" her mother said softly.  
	Scully physically shook the thought from her head and said. 
"Everything's fine."  
	"Dana," her mom repeated.  
	Scully's fingers now moved to the tiny cross that hung around her 
neck as she considered her words a moment. "The Capitals lost again so 
he's in a funk. But he's fine. Really."  
	Her mother, wise woman that she was, knew when not to push it. "Will 
I still see you on Sunday?"  
	"Wouldn't miss it. Seven o'clock, right?"   
	"Right. Night, sweetheart."   
	"Night, mom," Scully replied and hung up. She started idly at the 
computer screen her mind drifting to a galaxy far, far away. To a man with 
devastating blue eyes and the name... Luke. He seemed so real, but at the 
same time like part of a dream. Had she and Mulder really visited another 
galaxy? The idea was absurd, but somehow she couldn't dismiss it outright. 
And could these people be the same ones Duane Barry had allegedly 
delivered her to. Duane Barry. Even the name was enough to send a shiver 
down her spine that left her feeling cold and exposed. Barry had turned her 
over to people who had ripped three months from her life, who had 
embedded that chip in her, who had....
	Stop.  There were so many questions. And, she realized, again 
fingering the tiny scar on her neck, she had no way to find the answers.   
	She was just returning to her perusal of Pathologist Report On-line 
when she was interrupted again, this time by the beep indicating she had 
mail. Probably Mulder, she sighed, clicking on the icon. Frohike. She silently 
cursed her partner for ever giving him her e-mail address. Not that he 
probably couldn't have hacked it up himself, she admitted as she opened 
the note.  Greetings to the Lovely Agent Scully,  Just wanted to drop you a 
note and express my concern about the redwood. He seems to be exhibiting 
some unusual behavior lately (how's that for an oxymoron?). Have you 
observed anything out of the ordinary?   Your ever-loyal servant and 
admirer, Frohike   
	Scully smiled despite herself. But that smile faded quickly when she 
considered the note more carefully. She was tempted to write back and ask 
what unusual behaviour he was referring to, but decided on different course.  
She quickly, and with little enthusiasm, typed Frohike a reply, assuring him 
everything was fine.

*	*	*	*
Basement Office J. Edgar Hoover Building Wednesday  4:45 PM   

	Mulder pushed his wayward glasses back up his nose. He was tired. 
Maybe he should have taken the day off.  He hadn't been able to sleep last 
night and his head hurt. And now Skinner was waiting for his profile. He 
scowled down at the file spread across his desk. It wasn't the one on the 
McDonalds killer. It was The Other Case. The one that had been consuming 
him for the past two weeks. How could a brilliant concert pianist suddenly be 
utterly unable to play the simplest Mozart? How could a talented painter be 
instantly reduced to creating works that looked like those of a two year old? 
And how could an FBI agent who's intuition allowed him to leap at will into the 
mind of a serial killer and had earned him the nickname "Spooky" be 
stumped by a run of the mill maniac?  
	He quickly closed the file as his partner entered their office. She 
cocked her head to one side and lifted an eyebrow. "Why do you look like I 
just caught you with your hand in the cookie jar?"  
	"Who me?" he said, pulling the keyboard of his computer onto his 
lap.   
	Scully moved over to stand behind him, looking at his blank 
computer screen. "Guess I don't have to ask how that profile's going?"   
	"I don't really know if I have anything to add to what the Wisconsin VC 
guys came up with," he replied, trying to keep his voice even. What he didn't 
add was that he'd drawn a complete blank. Something that had never 
happened in his entire career.   
	Scully sat down on the edge of his desk. "Look, Mulder, I know you're 
not comfortable doing profiles. I know what it does to your psyche. But this 
lunatic is killing little girls. Lots of them. If you have anything to add--"  
	He dropped his keyboard on the desk and stood up, striding across 
the room. "Scully, you think I don't know that?" he said, turning to face her. He 
pulled savagely at the hair on the back of his head. "God, this isn't about me, 
about looking into that abyss again. If I could help, I would. I'd dive into his 
madness with both feet. But I don't have anything to add. Is that so 
impossible to believe?"  
	Scully stood up slowly, chewing on her lower lip briefly before 
answering. "Yes, Mulder, it is."  
	Mulder returned to his desk and grabbed his suit jacket off the back 
of his chair. "Well, believe it," he said and stormed out of the office.   
	Scully rubbed her chin and considered her options, her eyes falling 
on the file he'd been studying when she entered. She wasn't the least bit 
surprised when she saw what it was. She picked it up and returned to her 
desk.

*	*	*	*
Mulder's Apartment 9:23 PM  
	Mulder sat on his couch watching, but not seeing, this evening's 
hockey offering. He was scared. Terrified. Like he hadn't been since... since 
Samantha, since he'd heard Scully's voice cry out through his answering 
machine that she needed his help. But this time he was one who'd been 
abducted. Him? An abductee. Twice it seemed, if he bought into this whole 
flying primate thing. Ironic, wasn't it? He'd believed, falsely it seemed, that 
he'd always be the bridesmaid and never the bride. But now he was the one 
with missing time. Yet, it was more than that. He'd been returned, but not 
entirely. Someone had taken something from him, and more than just the 
weekend. They'd taken a chunk of his soul. But who? And how? A knock at 
the door startled him out of his stupor.
	"Who is it?" he called, as he reached for his gun and moved toward 
the door.
	"Steven Spielberg," came the reply.
	He smiled, holstered his weapon and answered the door. Scully 
stood there holding a pizza and a six pack of Labatt Ice, his favorite beer.
	"I couldn't let you watch the Capitols get slaughtered all alone," she 
said by way of explanation as she headed for his kitchen. "Do you have any 
clean plates?"
	"Plates?" he asked, following her. "Real men don't use plates."
	"And I suppose you'd like to open your beer bottle with your teeth," 
she said as she handed him a cold one. He opened it and handed it back to 
her and then took one for himself. She busied herself getting plates and 
putting pizza on them. Then they returned to the livingroom.
	"You know, Scully, real men don't eat veggies on their pizza," Mulder 
commented though a rather large mouthful.
	"Oh, right, they just pile on the dead animal flesh."
	"Now you're starting to get it," he replied, and slapped his head as 
Theo Fleury scored an easy goal on Jim Carrey. "Did you see that? My 
grandmother could have made that save."
	"Mulder, your grandmother is dead."
	"So, you see my point."
	They watched in silence for a little while before Scully got up and 
headed for the kitchen. "Beer?" she asked.
	Mulder nodded. "Thanks."
	She returned a few moments later with two beers and a file in her 
hand. The one he'd left on his desk, he noted. She sat on the coffee table in 
front of him, took the remote and switched off the TV. She handed him his 
beer before saying, "Are you finally ready to tell me what's going on?"
	He stared at the blank TV screen and took a long drink of his beer. "I 
don't know," he finally said.
	Scully reached down and took his chin in her fingers, forcing him to 
look at her. "Why don't you start at the beginning. Maybe we can figure it out 
together." There was gratitude in his eyes and something else... fear.
	"Two weeks ago I came home from work, went for a run and then 
settled in on the couch to watch a movie, Copy Cat, I think."
	"Right, I remember. You called and gave me a nice, albeit 
unsolicited, analysis of it."
	"Talking to you is the last thing I remember that night."
	"So, you fell asleep. An unusual occurrence, I agree, but certainly not 
paranormal."
	"The paranormal part is that I didn't wake up until Sunday evening," 
he paused. "And I was on my bed."
	Scully knitted her brows and stated the obvious. "You don't sleep in 
your bed."
	He nodded. "And I usually don't sleep for 48 hours either," he pointed 
out.
	"So, what do you think happened, Mulder? And what does it have to 
do with this," she asked, pushing the folder toward him.
	He's eyes darted about, avoiding hers, until he finally confessed.  
"I'm like them, Scully. Ever since that night I... feel like something is missing. 
From me."
	Scully rocked back.  "Missing? How? What?"
	"The killer, in Wisconsin," Mulder began, closing his eyes in despair.
	"What about him?"
	"I can't get into his head."
	"Everyone draws a blank sometimes, Mulder. It doesn't mean you 
were abducted. It doesn't--"
	His eyes popped opened and the panic she saw there stopped her 
mid-sentence. "Scully, it's not just that. My intuition, my gut feelings, my 
'spookiness.' Whatever you want to call it. It's gone."
	"It can't be gone. You're just--"
	Mulder grabbed her wrist. "No, Scully. It's gone."
	Their eyes locked. She could see that he wanted, needed 
desperately, for her to believe him. Scully finally looked down and opened 
the file. "And you think that's what's happened to these people too?"
	"I don't know, but I need to find out."
	"Do you think this is at all related to our," she struggled for the words, 
"Other situation?"
	"No." He was almost certain of it.
	Scully nodded her agreement and then thumbed through the papers 
in the file. She reached over and picked up the phone, dialing quickly. "Yes, 
hello, this is Special Agent Scully, I'd like to schedule some testing time 
tomorrow. Okay. That would be fine." She hung up and looked at her partner.
	"What was that about?"
	"Well, if you have lost something and it's not showing up in a physical 
manifestation perhaps it will show up in a psychological one." 	
	"I guess it's worth a try," Mulder agreed, secretly appalled that the 
idea hadn't occurred to him.
	"Mulder, we'll get to the bottom of this," she said, closing her hand 
over his.

*	*	*	*
Planet Earth Washington DC Thursday 6:30 AM 
	Four humans and one Wookiee crowded into the cockpit of the 
Flying Saucer as dawn spread across the Washington landscape.  
Skimming along a muddy, dirty river and over low gracefully decaying 
bridges barely detracted from morning sun reflecting oranges and pink on 
marbled buildings.  Han had seen a five sided huge squat building on one 
side of the river and had thought it might be entertaining to land the craft right 
in the pentagon's middle.  Mara had espied on the river's other side, a white 
building, more house than monument, surrounded first by grass, then fence, 
then concrete abutments.  Assuming that it must be an important place, she 
proposed landing on top of it, or at least hovering for a while and scaring 
everyone into thinking that aliens from outer space were taking over their 
world.  In the end, Chewie gently navigated to the end of a peninsula, 
deserted, grassy, surrounded on three sides by the still, stagnant river.  
	The cloaked ship settled gently in the early morning chill, deposited 
her passengers and then shot back up into the sky, invisible to them but for 
the roar.  Luke was transfixed, not by the sounds of a ship they could not see, 
but by the land itself.  He pulled at his sister's sleeve, drawing her attention to 
an extraordinary feature on the flat landscape.  "What is that?" 
	 Leia turned to see massive stone arms and a head, embedded in 
the ground, thrusting up to the sky to be free from the earth.  They stood, 
awestruck at the sight.  The raucous call of shore birds punctuated the 
peace, morning bathing the entombed giant.
	Han had little taste or interest in art, and tolerated Luke and Leia's 
contemplation.  He had hoped to be drinking in fresh air, but found instead 
that both he and Mara, taking deep gulpfuls, choked a little on the 
unmistakable odor of rotting fish and garbage.
	"City's not more than a kilometer or two away, let's stretch and..."
	Mara chimed in, "And get away from this oh so pleasant stench."  
She and Han shouldered their bags and made off in the direction of the white 
marbled city, leaving Luke and Leia to study in quiet the Awakening giant 
rising from Haines Point.

*	*	*	*
Behavioral Science Lab Quantico, VA Thursday 11:00 AM   
	Scully nervously fidgeted as she watched her partner complete the 
last in a barrage of psychological and behavioral tests. She could tell he 
was tired and antsy because he'd been trying, and failing, to draw the 
psychologist into a debate about current psychological theories for the past 
twenty minutes. "So, what's your take on automatic processes verses 
cognitive processes as they relate to emotion?" Mulder asked, leaning 
towards the psychologist, who ignored him.   
	The man frowned, stroked his graying beard and recorded a note on 
the test. "Okay, Agent Mulder, I think we have everything we need. If you'll just 
wait here I can discuss the analysis with Dr. Scully."  
	"I'm not waiting anywhere," Mulder said, getting to his feet. "They're 
my tests. I'll be there for the results."  
	"Agent Mul--" the man started.  
	"I agree with him, Dr. Roberts. In fact, Agent Mulder is likely to have a 
better understanding of the results than me," Scully interjected.  
	Roberts nodded and motioned for them to follow him to his office.  
	Mulder leaned over as he walked past her and whispered, "I should 
hope so considering most of your patients are no longer breathing."  
	Scully smiled. "Watch it, Mulder. I have a gun and you know I won't 
hesitate to use it."  
	Mulder made a mock gesture like he'd taken a bullet. "Too bad 
you're such a horrible shot," he said and hurried after Dr. Roberts. Scully 
rushed to catch up.   
	Once seated in the well appointed office, Scully tried to keep from 
squirming. She hoped her nervousness didn't show. Mulder's certainly was. 
He had yet to sit down, but instead was roaming the office taking in the 
photographs and diplomas on the walls. Scully cringed when he managed to 
knock a stack of books over. "Oops, sorry," Mulder said, as he started to 
pick them up.  
	"Leave them, Agent Mulder," Dr. Roberts said, his voice the picture of 
calm. "Why don't you have a seat." Mulder nodded and reluctantly settled in 
next to Scully. "Agent Mulder, since you're a trained psychologist I won't 
mince words with you. I'm quite alarmed by what I've seen in your tests."  
	"How so?" Scully asked.  
	"Agent Mulder is one of the Bureau's foremost behavioral modelists 
yet these tests indicate that he has almost no intuitive skills."  
	"What?" Mulder said, before he could stop himself. "Sorry, it's just 
that I've taken these tests in the past and that wasn't the case."  
	"I know, Agent Mulder. I checked your test scores before you arrived. 
I find the discrepancy disturbing."  
	"What could have caused the change? A head injury? An illness?" 
Scully asked.  
	"Have you had a head injury recently, Agent Mulder?"  
	"No. Not that I'm aware of," he answered and then glanced at Scully, 
obviously wondering whether he should mention the missing time. Scully's 
eyes told him not to.   
	"Did your tests indicate anything unusual about his memory? Agent 
Mulder has a eidetic memory but lately--"   
	Before Scully could even finish Dr. Roberts was nodding vigorously. 
"I noticed that as well. There's no question that there has been a change in 
Agent Mulder's intuitive abilities and his eidetic memory function, but it 
seems to have left everything else unaffected. It's very strange and I'll be 
honest. I've never seen a case like this."  
	Mulder and Scully exhaled at the same time. That wasn't what they 
wanted to hear.   
	"What would you recommend, Dr. Roberts," Scully asked.  
	"Well, to start, a complete neurological examination to rule out the 
possibility of head injury, tumor, or anything other biological explanation. 
Beyond that... I don't know," he admitted.  
	Mulder looked liked he'd been kicked in the stomach. Scully didn't 
look much better.

END--Chapter 2


INPUT "Continue to read more XJ2?", continue$
IF  continue$=lcase$("y") then
    GOSUB Chapter 3
ELSE
    PRINT "The Force is out there..."
ENDIF
CLOSE
SYSTEM
END

Chapter3:
    INPUT "Where is XJ2-3.txt located?", path$
    file$=path$+"XJ2-3.txt"
    OPEN file$ for input as #1