EPISODE 2

Chapter 2

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

Date:  02-23-02, 03:21 PM
RP:    Jordan Yorba
Subject:  Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: {RP} Ep 2: Musings of a Light-Haired Man
From:  Viki

She smiled, more as a reflex than anything.

"Umn, no.  I was left on the steps of a monastary when I was an infant.
My parents... they're most certainly dead.  I'm sorry, I've never even heard
of this Jachin before.  The only monks I know... well, They probably don't
want anything to do with me anymore."  Her head was spinning, but she
tried not to let it show.  Her father?  Surely, he's dead.

Right?

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

Date:  02-24-02, 10:47 AM
RP:    William Mercer
Subject:  Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: {RP} Ep 2: Musings of a Light-Haired Man
From:  Will

Mercer blinked at the cute young woman with the pleasant smile, and
nodded.

"... Umm... Miss.. I don't know your last name, can I call you Jordan?"

He shifted a little closer to the counter, his voice soft as he whispered.

"Jordan... this guy, who says you're his daughter, but you say he's not
you're father... If he's telling the truth, then... well wouldn't you like to
know?

And if he's lying.... then, I don't want to alarm you but you might be safer
in custody until we can figure all this out.  I can't force you to come with
me, I'm just offering protection if you feel this man may be stalking you."

> The only monks I know... well, They probably don't want anything
> to do with me anymore."

He pauses, that feeling of 'oh dear, we made a boo-boo' looming over his
head.

"Monks you know of? .... These monks, why wouldn't they want anything
to do with you?"

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

Date:  02-24-02, 05:28 PM
RP:    Dana Scully / Fox Mulder
Subject:  {RP Ep 2} Cassiopeia
From:  Brandi

~*~*~*~*~*~*~
10:21 AM EST
Office of Fox Mulder
~*~*~*~*~*~*~

A cloud of dust swirled up from the stack of papers Scully placed on the
desk, mixing in a tiny shaft of light evident through the small basement
window.  As if soliciting a response from Mulder using only her eyes, she
glanced at him pointedly before half-sitting not far from where she'd just
deposited their latest stack of misery.  Despite her encouraging stare,
Mulder made little effort to investigate this newest parcel.  From his
vantage point, the image of Scully perched primly on the edge of his desk,
dirty sunlight betraying her freckles and hidden mole, was significantly
more interesting than the expenditure reports they'd recently been saddled
with.  Unfortunately this was no time for "Dissecting Scully," a private
amusement he often indulged in whenever he was bored.  Scully was so
implicitly interesting that, being a psychologist, he oft times could not resist
exercising his skill; speculating the various layers of her id, pondering the
things that made her tick.  Despite his playful endeavors, however, one
undeniable truth remained:  Scully always kept him guessing.

"Earth to Mulder," she scolded playfully.  "You're still with me, aren't
you?"  Mulder gave a noncommittal grunt.  "I can't say that I am, Scully.
This latest punishment that's befallen us is so mind-numbingly boring as to
be somewhat intriguing.  I mean in the past I've found interest in drying
paint, counting water marks on the ceiling--"

"Or pencils on the ceiling," Scully interrupted, casting a pointed look
upward.  Mulder managed a chagrined smile.  "Or pencils on the ceiling,"
he allowed.  "But this particular assignment has me nostalgic for the early
morning aroma of big steaming piles of doo doo."  He offered a smile.
"What about you, Scully... this can't be your thing."

Scully stood from her seat on the desk, smoothing out the careful line of
her suit with a quick brush of her hand.  "Of course it's not my thing,
Mulder.  What do I care how many hours are wasted on personal calls at
an energy company?  I don't.  This entire assignment is completely
superfluous to our main objective here, but I might add that we've been
asked to do it.  We were asked by Skinner, and as much as I dislike it and
as much as you *hate* it, every now and then you have to bend over and
grab your ankles for 'the powers that be.'  It's simply the nature of the
beast, Mulder, backroom politics from which everyone must suffer."

Mulder smiled, looking wildly pleased with her oration and lightly clapped
in mock appreciation, even standing for emphasis.  "Bravo, Agent Scully,
I'm impressed."  She shot him a wry glance.  "I learned from the best," she
said walking off.  "Now when you're done with those, I have a whole other
stack over here," indicating what Mulder often referred to as "her area."
"That outta keep you placated."

Looking somewhat stricken, Mulder watched her as she walked to the
filing cabinet.  "You're an evil woman, Dana Scully."

Before returning to his work, he thought he saw her smile.

-0-0-0-0-0-
An hour and a half later
-0-0-0-0-0-

Mulder stood and stretched his long legs, rubbing his fingers under the
pads of his glasses.  "I'm thinking very seriously of tendering my--"  His
eyes caught the light on his fax machine, followed closely by a loud chirp.
"Whoah whoah whoah, hold on a minute.  Looks like we have something,"
he said as he retrieved the fax.  Scully crossed to his desk, as interested as
she was doubtful of his latest "find."

"What is that?" she said incredulously, looking at what appeared to be a
letter signed cryptically "your likeminded associates."

"It's a hotsheet from the Gunmen," he answered excitedly.  "Years ago we
concocted this system, it's like an underground network, if you will.
Whenever they find something that might interest me, they check it out and
send it along.  It saves me a lot of legwork, to be honest.  Several X-Files
have been their catch."

Scully looked at him skeptically.  "Yeah, but what's in it for them?" she
asked him flatly.

Mulder hesitated, then added shyly, "Front page headlines."

Not surprised, Scully continued.  "So, what's it say?  Wait lemme guess... a
three-headed cow gave birth to a housecat in Boise, Idaho," she said
deadpan.

"Ha ha, very funny," Mulder returned.  "Actually this looks rather
promising."  Mulder put down the paper momentarily, thinking.  The look
on his face was a familiar one, and to Scully spoke volumes.  "Scully, pull
me whatever you can find on religious rapture, supernatural
transhybridization, pseudocorpeal bereavement, divine lineage, anything
and everything.  Think "Elijah-in-the-whirlwind," only easternized.  Looks
like a girl has disappeared from a Buddhist monastery in Minnesota."

Scully arched an auburn brow.  "Disappeared?  You mean like,
'abracadabra,' that sort of disappearance?"

Mulder looked at her blankly.  "Well, at the most rudimentary level I
suppose you could say that," he tried convincingly, "I mean, my
'likeminded associates' don't send me things they haven't looked into.  Just
humor me, Scully, and lemme know what you find.  Meanwhile, I'll call our
travel agent."

As Scully looked at Mulder from the bookcase, a familiar gleam shining
brightly from all points of his countenance, she couldn't help but bemoan
this most recent turn.  "But Mulder," she tried vainly, "What about the
reports?  They're due next week."

Mulder looked up from his Rolodex.  "We can do that anytime, Scully.
Come on, this will take no time, I promise.  Two, three days, tops."

Yeah, right, she thought wearily.  Now where have I heard that before?

---

~*~*~*~*~*~
2:34 PM CST
Ngyen Temple of the Sun
outside of Hastings, MN
~*~*~*~*~*~

"Mulder, remind me again what we're doing here?"

Scully walked a stride or two behind Mulder up the large masonry steps of
Ngyen Temple, admiring tiredly the beauty of the architecture.  Above the
mantelpiece welcoming "all who come to worship," the seven Vedas of the
Divine Revelation were carved in stone.  Seemingly the rock into which
they were carved was imported especially for the piece, as it didn't appear
to match any of the other reliefs.

"We are here, Scully, because of a disappearance that could well be an
X-File."  As if anticipating her retort, he continued.  "And if it's not an
X-File, then it *is* a matter for the local authorities, that is, if this place is
even in their jurisdiction.  If not, then, they might need our help anyway."

At the top of the stairs there was a large oak door with medieval
door-knocks.  To the left of the facing was a red satin rope attached to a
cast iron bell.  With a tug from Mulder, it produced a healthy, baritone
ring.

Within a few seconds a small, dark-skinned monk opened the door.  "May I
help you?" he asked.  Scully answered first.  "Sir, I'm Agent Scully, this is
Agent Mulder, we're with the FBI."  The man looked at both of them
closely through his wire-rim frames.  "May I ask what you're in search of,"
he inquired softly.  "Well, sir," Mulder began, "I hear there has been a
disappearance of a young girl from here recently.  Is that true?" The monk
nodded curtly.  "Yes, I know what you are speaking of.  Please, come," he
said as he gestured into the foyer.  As Mulder and Scully stepped across
the threshold, he pressed his palms together and bowed shortly in welcome.
In turn, Mulder and Scully did the same.

"It is not every day the temple gets such visitors," he continued pleasantly,
"so forgive me if I am not much of a host."  The monk gave an apologetic
smile.  "I am Ven. Tenzin Thentop, by the way, Senior Priest of Divinity
here at Ngyen.  You may call me Tenzin, if you like."

"Tenzin it is, then," Mulder replied with a smile.  "We were wondering if
we might speak to someone about the missing girl," he said, "someone who
perhaps was closely associated with her."

Tenzin's features darkened only slightly, from sadness, or from something
else, Scully wasn't sure.  Casually she observed the man standing in front of
her.  No taller than she was, his bald head was perfectly round and unlined.
He appeared very young to be a senior priest, but she questioned his
appointment only half-heartedly--most certainly their rules of lineage and
status were quite different from the norm.  His dark red robe was wrapped
carefully around him, the hem held and overspilled by one long skinny arm
clasped about his middle.  Around his wrist he wore a doubled string of
beads.

"You speak of Jachin," Tenzin said knowingly.  "He is father to Ceres.
You might have a meeting with him, but he is meditating just now.  I do
not see the need to interrupt him."

"You might find the need," Scully interjected, "if this is his daughter we're
talking about.  I'm sure he would want to talk to us."  Mulder was about to
drive the point home when Tenzin spoke again, addressing both of them.

"We are a simple people here, agents, in a not-so-simple age.  It is often a
struggle to find the Path, even when it is right in front of our eyes.  Now, if
you will excuse me I--"

Mulder thwarted his action.  "No, we won't excuse you, sir, not before we
speak with Jachin.  Take us to him."

From the look on his face, it was obvious it wasn't a request.

---

Tenzin left Mulder and Scully at the top of the old wood stairs, really
nothing more than boards laid into brickwork.  Along the walls there was
evidence of electricity, running water even, yet everything else about the
Ngyen Temple seemed virtually untouched by the hands of time.  That is,
he suspected, aside from the sanctuary.  From his studies of world religion
he was aware that in a Buddhist temple, the sanctuary was the most
elaborate and opulently adorned room... and the monk's quarters, on the
other hand, were sparse, to foster humility.

"Scully," Mulder said, speaking low as they walked, "do you care to tell me
how a Buddhist monk has a *daughter*?  I mean, look around this place, I
don't think these guys are getting any action."  Scully smiled in spite of
herself.  "I dunno Mulder, maybe that's your X-File.  Maybe there's
something in the water," she added over her shoulder.  Mulder looked
pleased as he followed her.  "Then don't drink the water, Scully."  Scully
looked at him, surprised.  "Look around you Mulder.  There's no women
here," she said deadpan.  "*You* don't drink the water."

Before Mulder could recover, Scully stopped in front of a modest oak
door.  "This looks like the one," she said as she ran a flat palm along the
frame.  On its facing were the same relief carvings as above the temple
door.  In the hallway the light cast them mosquito-yellow and the air,
smelling of old leather and incense, wrinkled her nose.  "How *do* I let
you talk me into these things," she muttered dismissively.

Mulder waggled a brow before knocking.  "Because you're madly in love
with me?"

Scully rolled her eyes, brushing dust from her hands.  "*Mad* is more like
it."

Inside the room there came a stirring, as of someone rushing to the door.
Opening it, Jachin bowed shortly to each of them and welcomed them
inside.  A slightly larger and significantly older man than Tenzin, Jachin's
back was slumped with age and hard work, but in his eyes shone a light
tinged with sadness.

Jachin offered them both a seat on his bed as he took a seat on his zafu, the
only other furniture in the room.  The quarters were modest but impeccably
neat, with a wash basin, a window and small desk.  "Sir, we'd like to talk to
you about the disappearance of your daughter," Scully began.  "When did
you first notice her missing?"

Jachin rubbed his bald head in thought.  "It was only a few nights ago.
I went into Jordan's room and-"

"Tell me *exactly* how it happened," Mulder interrupted, obviously unable
to contain his excitement any longer.  "Was it a ball of fire, a flash of light?
Did you see Buddha or one of his wives summon Jordan as the next link in
the Divine Lineage?"

Mulder could feel the heat from Scully's gaze, but dared not look.  She was
most likely turned toward the window, wanting no part of it.

"I-I don't know what you mean," Jachin replied.  "Jordan was gone, it
didn't happen in that way."

Scully leaned in close to Mulder, whispering sharply, "Let's leave this to the
local authorities and get out of here, Mulder."  Instead of listening to her,
he continued his line of questioning.

"So, it didn't happen that way," he said, thinking of what to say next.
"Jachin can you tell me of any special abilities Jordan might have?  Visions,
dreams, recent predictions of any kind?"

Jachin, thoroughly confused now, leaned back on his zafu as far as possible
without toppling backward.  "I'm sorry," he said a little shaken, "I don't
know what you speak of.  Jordan is a normal girl.  She left the monastery
on her own.  I haven't spoken with her, but I know she is safe.  There is
good news recently... she has been found!  Thanks be to God!"

Scully looked at Jachin, tears welling in his eyes, and back to Mulder who
might as well have been crying too.  To her credit she was a tad comforting
as she touched his arm and said, "Let's go, Mulder."

Ignoring her again, Mulder asked to see Jordan's quarters.  As the two
followed Jachin down the hall, he left them with a blessing.  "We may still
want to speak to Jordan," Mulder said after him.  "So you need to tell us
how to go about doing that."

"An agent, like you, found Ceres," Jachin said down the hall.  "An Agent
William Mercer!  Thanks to God for him!  He knows where Jordan is.  I
can give you his number, if you need it.  But right now I must go."

The two of them watched the old monk rattle down the steps toward the
lower-level sanctuary.  Mulder looked quite dejected, but not resigned.
"Mulder, I know what you're thinking here," she said as she moved to open
Jordan's door, "but this is nothing more than a teen runaway scenario.  And
look around here, Mulder.  What teenage girl would want to live like this?
No TV, no boys--well, none that would look at her, anyway--no music, no
freedom of any kind.  She was obviously not happy here, Mulder.  But the
good news is-"

"That she's been found," Mulder finished, awestruck as he stepped inside
Jordan's quarters for the first time.  "Hey Scully," he said looking around
the room, "are you seeing what I'm seeing?"  Indeed Scully saw it too, for
all along Jordan's walls, from ceiling to floor, were drawings.  Hundreds of
them, for certain.  Approaching a corner Mulder pulled one from the wall,
examining the drawing closely.

"Scully, check this out," he said gesturing to the peculiar scene.  "They're
all the same."

As Mulder stared wide-eyed at this unexpected discovery, Scully inspected
a drawing nearer to the floor.  "This one's not the same, Mulder.  Nor this
one," she said indicating another.  "Or this one."

Mulder bent to look,  verifying her find.  "Scully, I'm beginning to think
you get an intellectual high from proving me wrong."

Scully looked at him evenly.  "Snd not to mention an ego boost," she
replied with a smirk.

Not to be out done, Mulder circled the room once more, studying each
drawing closely.  "I still think this means something Scully.  Isn't this
forbidden?  I mean, is artistic expression allowed in Buddhism?"

Scully, who'd been thumbing through Jordan's sparse closet, considered.
"I think it *is* allowed, but what we're seeing here Mulder is nothing more
than the random scribblings of a bored, anxiety-ridden and emotionally
repressed teenager.  Nothing more, nothing less."  She gave him a wary
look.  "Dare I ask what *you* see in them."

Mulder looked at Scully, then back to the walls.  "Almost the same thing,
Scully... almost the same thing."

---

*~*~*~*~*~*
8:08 AM EST the following day
Office of Fox Mulder
*~*~*~*~*~*

"You have got to be kidding me."

Scully stood in the doorway of Mulder's office, still holding her briefcase.
"Tell me you haven't been here all night, Mulder, just please tell me that."

Mulder looked up from the overhead projector, just making out the
silhouette of Scully in the low light of the room.  Though the lights were
out, he knew the expression on her face from rote memory.

"I've been looking at those drawings, Scully, the one's Jachin let us have,
and you're not going to believe what I've found."

"You have been here all night, haven't you," Scully inquired softly.  As
much as she admired Mulder's passion, at times she feared the threat it
posed to his well being.  "Mulder you have to stop doing this to yourself.
The girl has been found.  Now all we need to do is contact this Agent
Mercer to verify that fact.  It was a dry run Mulder, there's no X-File here."

Mulder hit the lights, annoyed with Scully's obstinance.  "Dammit Scully
why can't you just look at what I'm trying to show you?  You don't even
know what it is, yet you're ready to completely discredit me, as usual," he
added with venom.  "When I contact Agent Mercer, it will be to arrange an
audience with Jordan, not to verify any fact."

In resignation, Scully dropped her briefcase in the doorway and walked
over to where he stood.  "Show me, Mulder."

Bitterly Mulder organized the stack of overheads, preparing to view them
as he had done for the past five hours.  "I Xeroxed Jordan's drawings on
overhead paper," he said flatly.  "And I've compared them with... other
transparencies."  Scully looked at him carefully, his tired, disheveled
appearance saying what he couldn't allow himself to feel.  Thumbing the
edge of table she asked, "What transparencies are those?"  Without waiting
for an answer, she picked one from the pile in front of him.

"Star charts, Mulder?"  Mulder looked defensively though no blows came.
"Star charts," she said dumbly.  More than a slightly bit interested now, she
considered.  "So tell me what you've found here, and maybe I can help."

With renewed exuberance Mulder hit the lights again.  "Well, first of all,
this first transparency is of Cassiopeia, which was, as of a few weeks ago,
in its brightest house.  Now compare this to Jordan's drawing."  He lay one
transparency over the other, smiling with delight as the lines fit perfectly
together.

"You see what's going on here Scully?  You see that?"

Scully viewed the overlay as well as the background and acknowledged the
oddity.  The lines melted perfectly into one, seamless.  "It's a coincidence,
Mulder, that's all it is.  And even if it's not, so what?  So, Jordan's a
stargazer.  I own a telescope too."

Mulder looked at her in disbelief, somehow fueled by her unwillingness to
see.  "Yes, but is it a coincidence that over seventy-five of those drawings
so far have produced the same results?  To the sharpest angle, the smallest
degree?  Oh sure they diverge occasionally, but precisely so.  It's as if,
they're moving in pattern.  It's almost strategic; you can look at these
overlays and see documented evidence of stars changing position."

"Stars don't change position, Mulder."  He locked eyes with her
confidently.  "These stars do, Scully.  The evidence is right here.  And then,
there's the issue of the constellation they map--Cassiopeia; it's not visible
from the mountain, there are too many trees in the way."  Mulder watched
Scully carefully for a reaction.  "Aren't you even gonna ask me why?  Why
Cassiopeia?"

"Ok Mulder," she replied humorlessly, "Why Cassiopeia?"

Mulder turned to face Scully, her features still shaded but readable.
"Cassandra Spender, Scully.  Cassandra Spender saw Cassiopeia.  You
know.  You were there, when she pressed her fingers to the window
[Patient X].  You saw it, too, Scully but you don't remember."

Scully looked up him, stricken and furious.  "I don't want to hear this,
Mulder.  When in the hell are you gonna give it up!" she yelled.
"Everything is not aliens, Mulder.  Everything is not the government."  She
took a shallow breath, to steady herself.  "And everything is not your
sister."

He registered her anger as a third party, refusing to be hurt.  "This means
something, Scully," he said roughly.  "I have something here, I'm sure of
it."  He locked eyes with her, determined.  "And in time, you'll see it too."

She watched him leave without saying a word.  Her anger, tangible only
moments before dissolved instantly into guilt the moment he was gone.
Why had she said those things?  Because they were true?  Or because she
couldn't face what those drawings could mean?  What they could
represent--to Jordan, and to herself.  Bemused and convicted, gently she
touched the pads of her fingers to the projector screen.  Jordan's Cassiopeia
was the only light in the room.

---

~*~*~*~*~*~
2:45 PM WET
London, England
~*~*~*~*~*~

"It's for you, sir."

Well-Manicured Man looked up from his Tolstoy, annoyed by the
interruption.  Unfortunately in his line of work, he couldn't afford to take
the phone off the hook.  Ever.

With a forced smile he accepted the handset.  "This better be important,"
he measured icily.

"Sir, I'm sorry, you told me never to call you, but--"

"Who is this," WMM snapped.

"It's Bankei sir, from Ngyen Temple.  I--"

"I know who you are," interrupted WMM.  He rose from the lounger,
scowling at the waning fire.  "But what do you want.  You are putting us
both at risk by contacting me."

Bankei steeled enough to articulate a reply.  "Two FBI agents were here
yesterday, asking about Jordan.  A tall one, and a small red-haired woman."

Well-Manicured Man stared a hole through the adjacent wall.  A
reproachful wave of dread settled around him, and the chill that ran up his
spine had nothing to do with the weather.  "Did they find anything," he
finally managed.

Bankei swallowed hard on the other line.  "They took the drawings, sir."

...

"Sir?

But the line was dead.

---

WMM walked over to the desk and poured himself a brandy.  Briefly he
thought of Jordan, of the failed attempt to capture her.  They would try
again, he consoled himself.  They had no choice.

~*~*~*~*~*~

TO BE CONTINUED...

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

Date:  02-24-02, 05:31 PM
RP:    Jordan Yorba
Subject:  Re: {RP} Ep 2: Musings of a Light-Haired Man
From:  Viki

She smiled yet again, and offered her last name, Yorba, but agreed to being
called Jordan.

She leaned in to listen to his whisper, taking in his boy-next-door good
looks.  A quick look to his finger revealed he was at least unmarried.  Sure,
she had lived in a monastary for 16 years of her life.  But, that girl... what
was her name?... had taught her a lot about the 'real world' and she knew
what to check.  He smelled great, and she was caught up in the moment.
She realized he was looking at her, like he was expecting an answer.

"Umn, yeah... yeah, maybe I shouldn't be haning out by myself but... yeah, I don't really have anyone to go live with."

> "Monks you know of?  .....These monks, why wouldn't they want
> anything to do with you?"

She blushed, a bit, and remembered when she had left the monastary.

Okay, she hadn't really 'left'.  'Broken out' was more like it.

"Let's just say, we didn't part on such great terms."  She smiled again.

"So, uh, so what're we gonna do?"

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

Date:  02-25-02, 06:51 AM
RP:    William Mercer
Subject:  Re: Re: {RP} Ep 2: Musings of a Light-Haired Man
From:  Will

She smiled?  Mercer was standing looking at this little girl, who he felt
more a father to than Jachin claimed to be.  Jordan was possibly in a
situation that would even make him (a veteran field agent) want to cringe.
Yet... she was smiling.

He couldn't help but let out a quiet chuckle.  "Heh... Umm, okay.  Look, if
you can stand being away for a little bit in that case, there's a plane headed
for Washington in about two days, if you want I could escort you back
there just until we get this cleared away.  Until then, if you don't have any
place to stay...."

William felt like he was going to be sick.  What was he doing?  Why was
he making this so personal?  He was an investigator, a spy
maybe... sometimes he had even been an assassin... but a savior?  a
wannabe foster parent?  No, it wasn't like that.  He had been led astray big
time.  Jachin had contacted him through his father, but how had he known
"where" to contact his father even.  They had moved around a dozen or so
times.  Now, with Jordan claiming to not even know Jachin, the steady
feeling of being a mouse in a set trap was rushing over his head.  This led
to the possible options.

He could let her go, say it was one big misunderstanding, and hopefully let
her disappear on her own.  Problem with that was that if it was a trap, she
might disappear... and never be found again.

He could take her to the nearest police station, and pull some strings to
have enough armed bodies around her to keep her safe until the calvary
arrived.  But anyone who could get to him, could get to anyone else to get
Jordan.

What about back home?  Walk her right into FBI headquarters?  Would it
still be home?  Never mind him, but would Jordan be safe going into a den
where the bears themselves might live?  Someone was on the inside.  That
was the obvious conclusion.  Mistakes like this didn't happen, not with
blackbag ops, not with little out of the way favors for "old" friends... this
was a setup.

Which led to the only option left, and the one he disliked the most.  He'd
have to hide her, protect her, and keep here safe himself until someone he
could trust came to the same conclusion he did... or he killed everyone else
involved in getting her back to wherever she had run from.

Mercer smiled.  "Look, I know this might seem a step down from
accepting a car ride from a stranger, but if you don't have a place to stay,
I have a spare bed back at the hotel?"

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

Date:  02-25-02, 02:39 PM
RP:    Jordan Yorba
Subject:  Re: Re: Re: {RP} Ep 2: Musings of a Light-Haired Man
From:  Viki

Her head was, once again, spinning.  What was she doing?  Smiling at a
stranger?  She lived in a *monastary*, for chrissakes.  And not even for a
year.  For 16 years.

Yet, she was smiling at a stranger.

She watched him fidget.  He shifted his weight from his left foot to his
right, his right to his left.  She shook her head a little, to clear her mind.
She looked at him again.  He was pretty young, but probably about 10
years older than her.
<> 
She heard his offer.  Bed.  Hotel.  Him.  She knew she couldn't accept...

"Sounds great," she said, with yet another smile.

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

Date:  02-25-02, 04:59 PM
RP:    William Mercer
Subject:  Re: Re: Re: Re: {RP} Ep 2: Musings of a Light-Haired Man
From:  Will

William blinked in mild disbelief.

"Sounds good?...."  He shook his head and smiled politely, offering his hand
in greeting.  "Thats, umm.. thats great then.  I'm William by the way,
 William Mercer.  Oh.. I said that already didn't I?"

Mercer was nervous, and for good reasons.  He could get her back to the
hotel.  Give her a warm bed, good food, a room to herself, and him (the
ultimate 24 body guard).  Will started to also wonder if maybe he should just
grow a pair of wings, knock on Jimmy Staurt's door, and introduce himself as
Clarenece.  Christmas was long over though, and this was all quite real.

"You have any thing you want to take with you?  Change of clothes?
Wallet?  A book maybe?"  He let out a nervous laugh.  How the heck was he
going to protect her, when he didn't know who to even begin to trust.
... Maybe she'd understand?  Maybe he could explain the whole thing?
... right... to a person who was in effect a teenage nun.  Well, if there was a
God watching this, he better be on their side... at the moment, it seemed very
few were.

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

Date:  02-25-02, 06:17 PM
RP:    Jordan Yorba
Subject:  Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: {RP} Ep 2: Musings of a Light-Haired Man
From:  Viki

She saw him blin in obvious shock, and laughed internally about the
situation.  This was insane.  She was effectively going home with a stranger.
A stranger who was so nervous he reintroduced himself.  What was he, FBI?
That's what he had said, right?

"A book?  No.  I'm... I just moved into town.  I've got a few things up in my
apartment."  She glanced at her watch, she was off work in a few minutes.
"Look, I get off in like, 5 minutes.  If you want to hang around, we can go
get my stuff right after work, and then leave."  She stopped for air.  "Did
you say you were FBI?"

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

Date:  02-26-02, 07:52 AM
RP:    William Mercer
Subject:  Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: {RP} Ep 2: Musings of a Light-Haired Man
From:  Will

This was lunacy.

"Yes... oh, here you might want some proof."  He smirked as he removed
the badge from his coat.  Maybe this was going to be easier than he
thought.  "Here you go."

The ID was either real, or the highest quality of forgery ever known.  The
likness was perfect, not even a smudge on the blue and black ink.  "If you
don't mind, I'll stick around for a little bit.  When ever you're ready we'll
head out."

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

Date:  02-26-02, 03:03 PM
RP:    Jordan Yorba
Subject:  Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: {RP} Ep 2: Musings of a Light-Haired Man
From:  Viki

She saw him smirk, and tried to brush it off as nothing.

"Umn, thanks."  She looked at it for a moment.

"Yeah, stick around."

~*~

She opened her door with a little jolt.  Stepping into the dimly lit
apartment, and looked around.  It really was a dump.  She was sorta glad
to be leaving.  She smiled at that guy again.

"I'll be right back, I'll just throw some stuff in a bag, and we can leave,
okay?"

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

Date:  02-26-02, 07:40 PM
RP:    William Mercer
Subject:  {RP} Ep 2: Musings of a Light-Haired Man
From:  Will

He nodded steadily with an assuring smile.  Good lord this felt strange.

"No problem, take your time."

It was like a three-way cross between escorting a prisoner, picking up a
date, and being told he was now the proud owner of a baby puppy all at
once.  He felt awakard, on gaurd, but strangley relieved he would be the
one to keep her safe until he came up with a better idea.

Mercer waited by the counter, staring between the wall and the floor.

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

Date:  03-10-02, 08:16 PM
RP:    Alex Benton
Subject:  EP 2 *Day of the Dead - Again!*
From:  Nicca

The room in which Alex had been taken was very much like all
interrogation rooms found in any police station across the country except
this was definitely no police station.  There was no furniture in the room
bar the chair she was tied to, no windows, one bare light hung from the
ceiling and the obligatory double sided mirror off to one side.  The room
had this thick layer of grime and dirt on the walls, hiding the true colour
that once was.  The floor had small piles or garbage cluttered in piles
particularly in the corners and the smell of decay was thick.  Alex couldn't
remember getting here or being tied to this chair.  Her hands were behind
her back, tied to meet each other and each of her ankles were fastened to
the front legs of the chair.  In her mouth was a rubber gag making it
difficult for her to breath.  For some reason her nose felt blocked.  It
actually throbbed painfully when she tried wrinkling her nose.  Those
mungrels must have belted her in the face when they brought her in here.
Her eyes stung like she had not had enough sleep and her mouth was dry,
her tounge thick and raspy.  The buzzing in her head that had been
persistently there was fading.  They must of knocked her out.  She
definitely wouldn't have let them tie her down without putting up some
kind of fight.  Damn.  Some kinda fight may have broken her nose.  She
tested her binds carefully, twisting her hands back and forth but the binds
were solid.  She looked at the mirror and noticed a light eminating from
behind it.  In the dim glow, she could make out three figures standing
looking at her.  The dim wits musn't have realised she could see them.
Kinda defeats the purpose of a two way mirror.

Unless they didnt care.

Alex hoped they were just dim witted.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Skinner was on his way to his apartment when his phone trilled loudly in
the elevator ride up to his floor.

"Skinner"

"Sir?  It's Agent Morrel from the Minneapolis field office.  Sorry to call
you at home but I need to comferm a few things about Agent Benton."

Skinner moaned and rolled his eyes.  He looked at the lovely blonde
woman who was taking the elevator ride with him.  He had seen her a few
times around the complex block but had never actually introduced himself.
It didn't look like he was going to either.

"Firstly, Agent Morrel, Im not actually home yet... very close but not quite
and secondly, I would LIKE to get home.  Can't this wait until tomorrow?"

Skinner didn't feel like playing baby sitter for a snotty nosed cadet who has
probably annoyed Agent Morrel to no end.

"Uh Sir?  Where is Agent Benton?  There is no one at the room she had
booked for herself and she hasn't called in for a few days.  I thought maybe
she had been recalled to Quantico...."

Morrel let the statement hang.

"WHAT!!  Your men were supposed to have her covered."

Skinner thought he was going to faint.  He had put a cadet into the field
against all of the advice of his peers and now she was missing.  The blonde
in the elevator began to look slightly worried and looked at her feet.  This
was definitely a conversation you wanted to have in private.

"Sir?  Thats not all.  An unidentified male perp was found DOA in a stolen
vehicle in the parking lot of the Motel.  As of yet, we have no ID on the
guy but we know he was killed with a sling shot pellet.  We have not been
able to connect the incidents but I think its a bit too much of a coincidence.
What do you advise?"

Skinners hand reached out for the wall of the elevator and leaned against it,
his head slowly lying to rest on his forearm.  The lift came to a stop and the
blonde got off without comment.  There was no one waiting to get on so
he punched the "CLOSE" button and waited for his descent.

"I'll be in Minneapolis as soon as I can.  I'll let you know when I have
landed."

Skinner hung up the cell phone without a goodbye.  His fist slammed
against the panneled wall of the elevator.  Think MAN!  He needed
someone to come with him.  He needed to consult with the X-Files.
Agents Mulder, Scully and Reyes need to know what's happened.  He
searched his phone for Scully's cell number.  Lately, he had fallen into the
habit of calling Scully first.  Only because she generally answered.  As the
phone rang, the elevator doors opened at the basement carpark and he
stepped off and strode over to his car.

"Scully.  Can you and Agents Mulder and Reyes meet me in my Office in
an Hour?"

"I'll explain when you get there."

Skinner pressed the central locking button on his key ring and the door
locks popped up, making the BEEP BEEP sound.  As he settled himself
into the drivers seat, he noticed a note on the dash of the car.  He carefully
reached for the slip of paper and opened it.

"You're taking Reyes."

Skinner looked around the carpark but didn't notice anything unusual.  If it
was from who he thought, he would be taking Reyes.

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

Date:  03-14-02, 03:51 PM
RP:    Jordan Yorba
Subject:  Re: {RP} Ep 2: Musings of a Light-Haired Man
From:  Viki

> He nodded steadily with an assuring smile.  Good lord this felt strange.
>
> "No problem, take your time."
>
> It was like a three-way cross between escorting a prisoner, picking up a
> date, and being told he was now the proud owner of a baby puppy all at
> once.  He felt awkward, on guard, but strangely relieved he would be the
> one to keep her safe until he came up with a better idea.
>
> Mercer waited by the counter, staring between the wall and the floor.

Jordan threw her few articles of clothings into a bag, and walked to the
bathroom.  She picked up her toiletries and pushed them into the bag.  She
looked at herself in the mirror and for the first time all day was embarassed
of her looks.  She could be pretty, if you looked past all the dirt and
laundry crap.

Oh, shit.

Laundry.

Laundramat.

As in, place-of-work.

Damnit.

"Umn... Mr... Special Agent guy.  I've got a job, here.  What'm I gonna do
about that?"  She cringed, realizing she sounded about 13.

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

Date:  03-18-02, 05:48 PM
RP:    Fox Mulder
Subject:  (RP, Ep 2} Mulder Leaps
From:  Nancy

> He registered her anger as a third party, refusing to be hurt.  "This means
> something, Scully," he said roughly.  "I have something here, I'm sure of
> it."  He locked eyes with her, determined.  "And in time, you'll see it
> too."
>
> She watched him leave without saying a word.  Her anger, tangible only
> moments before dissolved instantly into guilt the moment he was gone.
> Why had she said those things? Because they were true? Or because she
> couldn't face what those drawings could mean?  What they could
> represent--to Jordan, and to herself.  Bemused and convicted, gently she
> touched the pads of her fingers to the projector screen.  Jordan's
> Cassiopeia was the only light in the room.

Fox Mulder pushed the elevator button and it lit up.  He waited for the
car's descent to reach its conclusion here at the basement level.

The elevator went ding, and the door opened.  He entered, and before the
door closed, he jumped back out.  Ran back into the basement office,
turned on the light.

"Scully!  I got it.  Jachin is not Jordan Yorba's father!"

He held his head high and braced himself for the roll of disbelief and
disagreement that would surely come from Scully.

Then Mulder said, "See, look.  Just like you said, how would a baby be
born in the monastery?  Jachin isn't Jordan's *biological* father, he's her
*adopted* father.  So where did Jordan come from?  Look at this photo of
her.  Her eyes are gray.  That's a very odd color, don't you think?"

Outside the basement window, Mulder could see the feet of the people
walking by on the sidewalk.  Thus disembodied from the rest of the
persons, the feet gave the illusion of separate identities jumping.

"Jordan is special, she is *the* key.  And they know that, and that's why
she's been at the monastery all these years - her real parents were trying to
hide her to protect her!"

He was right, he knew he was, no matter what Scully said.  He had
something here, he was sure of it.

He went over to his desk, sat down, picked up a drawing, held it to the
light.  He turned the drawing at ninety-degree angles, looked at it, then
turned it again.  Looked at it again, put it down, picked up another
drawing.  Then turned that drawing at a ninety-degree angle, did it a few
more times, before putting the drawing down.  He gazed at Scully.

The pictures *would* look like ordinary schoolgirl doodling to a casual
observer.  But if you looked carefully, turned them this way or that, you
could see the page layout pattern was clearly (to Mulder, at least) shaped
like Cassiopeia.

"Just gimme a minute, okay?  I'll prove it."  He picked up a slip of paper
from the desk, stared at it for a moment.

"Okay, here."  He leaned back in his chair, put his feet on the desk.
"Cassiopeia is W-shaped, W as in William.  Turn it upside down and it's
an M, like in Mercer."

He winced; even to him it sounded weak.  He took his feet off the desk,
pulled out a legal pad and started scribbling on it with a pencil.

"What about her name, Scully?  Ceres?  Do you think that's just a
coincidence too?"  He erased something, then went on with the scribbling.
"Ceres is the name of the first asteroid ever discovered."  He pulled a
calculator out of the desk drawer, punched in some numbers, scribbled
some more.  "In 1800 or so, astronomers were looking for a planet in the
vicinity of 2.8 A.U., because mathematically there was supposed to be a
planet there.  Instead they found Ceres, an asteroid."  Scribble, scribble.
"While Ceres is orbiting the sun between Mars and Jupiter, at certain times
of the year, it passes right *in front of* the Pleiades.  Scully, don't you
*see*?"

Mulder put down the pencil, stood, fumbled through the star maps, as if
looking for one in particular.  Clumsily, some of them fluttered to the floor.
"A few weeks ago, Cassiopeia entered its brightest house, and *at the same
time*," he picked out one of the transparencies, held it up, then put it on
the overhead.  "At the same time, Ceres, in its orbit around the sun, was
here."  He pointed to a spot on the transparency.  "*Here,* Scully!  Don't
you see?  Right in front of the Pleiades."

He went back to the desk, scribbled a little more, then held the legal pad
for Scully to see.  "Here is the diverting pattern in the pictures."  He looked
at Scully's face, at the mathematical equations all over the legal pad.  "The
pattern almost exactly coincides with the right ascension and declination of
Ceres' orbit around the sun.  If, as you say, Jordan's a stargazer and a
mindless doodler, is she also a mathematician?"

"She didn't run away, Scully, she's being *called*."

Mulder's face suddenly lost its fervor as though something else were
breaking through the tunnel vision, a different thought taking hold in his
mind.  He touched the back of Scully's neck with his fingertips, feeling for
the chip.  "Be careful, Scully," was all he could say.

Then he heard her cell phone ring.

> He [Skinner] searched his phone for Scully's cell number.  Lately, he had
> fallen into the habit of calling Scully first.  Only because she generally
> answered.  As the phone rang, the elevator doors opened at the basement
> carpark and he stepped off and strode over to his car.
>
> "Scully.  Can you and Agents Mulder and Reyes meet me in my Office in
> an Hour?"
>
> "I'll explain when you get there."

Mulder sat back down at his desk, reviewing the equations on the yellow
pad.

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

Date:  03-25-02, 08:24 AM
RP:    William Mercer
Subject:  Re: Re:{RP} Ep 2: Musings of a Light-Haired Man
From:  Will

Mercer smiled brightly.  This was one question he could answer with
absolute certainty.  "Oh please don't worry about that, we'll get someone
from the Burea to call your employer and explain the special situation, I
can assure you there won't be any problems with you continuing your work
after we get this sorted out."

And why couldn't he?  The laundromat was one of the safer places since it
appeared to have nothing to do with whatever was going on.  Sure, her
boss would get a little upset, but it was amazing how a little proper
"financing" and a signed letter from the Deputy Director could brighten
someones day... heck, maybe they still had a few of the signed letters by the
President.... the real President, and not that other guy from Arkansas.

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

Date:  03-25-02, 04:57 PM
RP:    Dana Scully
Subject:  {RP Ep: 2} Scully Jumps ;-) (Attn: Mulder, Reyes & whoever wants Skinner)
From:  Brandi

Scully was still standing at the projector screen when she heard the elevator
groan to a halt.  Accompanied by a simultaneous "ding," harmonious
footsteps hurried down the hall, stopping short at the door of the basement
office.  Without turning, she knew it could only be Mulder.

> "Scully!  I got it.  Jachin is not Jordan Yorba's father!"
>
> He held his head high and braced himself for the roll of disbelief and
> disagreement that would surely come from Scully.

She turned finally to face him, considering what he was saying.  "What do
you mean Mulder?"  Her voice held more curiousity than doubt.

> Then Mulder said, "See, look.  Just like you said, how would a baby be
> born in the monastery?  Jachin isn't Jordan's *biological* father, he's her
> *adopted* father.  So where did Jordan come from?  Look at this photo
> of her.  Her eyes are gray.  That's a very odd color, don't you think?"

> Outside the basement window, Mulder could see the feet of the people
> walking by on the sidewalk.  Thus disembodied from the rest of the
> persons, the feet gave the illusion of separate identities jumping.

Scully held the photo on her hands between them, studying it.  "It *is* an
odd color," she managed, deep in thought.  "And you might have a point
here... women abandon their babies all the time, but why a monastery?
What's the significance of that?"

> "Jordan is special, she is *the* key.  And they know that, and that's why
> she's been at the monastery all these years - her real parents were trying
> to hide her to protect her!"

> He was right, he knew he was, no matter what Scully said.  He had
> something here, he was sure of it.

Scully looked at him, trying her best to process what he was saying.
"Mulder, the key to what?  And who or what were they trying to hide her
from, for what purpose?"  Scully walked to the other side of the room,
bewildered.  "I don't know how to reconcile this Mulder, I just can't."
She paused, looking at him.  "I need more than this.  You know that."

Scully grabbed a magnifying glass from the shelf and held it closer to the
print of Jordan.  "Mulder, come here for a moment.  Have you noticed
this?"  She held the picture and the glass out for him to see.  "I mean, it's
no anomaly, but, this is a very good picture, very clear.  We could possibly
get a retinal scan, not for any identification per se, but perhaps for
identifying marks at a biological level.  For instance, villages in New
Guinea are known for crescent shaped retinal scars, most likely a result of
ozone exposure.  A study such as this might give us some inkling as to
where Jordan is from, and who her real parents are."

She sensed in him the annoyance as he stalked away.  "Mulder, this is why
we are partners," she began.  "I am not trying to totally discredit you, I just
need proof.  What I'm suggesting might give us the proof.  I am willing to
pursue your theory, but I ask you to extend me the same courtesy."

> He went over to his desk, sat down, picked up a drawing, held it to the
> light.  He turned the drawing at ninety-degree angles, looked at it, then
> turned it again.  Looked at it again, put it down, picked up another
> drawing.  Then turned that drawing at a ninety-degree angle, did it a few
> more times, before putting the drawing down.  He gazed at Scully.

"I am willing to see, Mulder," she said thoughtfully, seeing him soften as a
result.  "I'm not saying there isn't an alarming coincidence between the star
charts and those drawings, but I need more.  I don't know if I want to
believe, that this is true," she measured carefully, "but if it's there, I'm
willing to see it."  She looked at Mulder, who studied the photos without
meeting her gaze.  He appeared deep in thought, and perhaps a little less
annoyed with her disbelief.

> The pictures *would* look like ordinary schoolgirl doodling to a casual
> observer.  But if you looked carefully, turned them this way or that, you
> could see the page layout pattern was clearly (to Mulder, at least) shaped
> like Cassiopeia.
>
> "Just gimme a minute, okay?  I'll prove it."  He picked up a slip of paper
> from the desk, stared at it for a moment.
>
> "Okay, here."  He leaned back in his chair, put his feet on the desk.
> "Cassiopeia is W-shaped, W as in William.  Turn it upside down and it's
> an M, like in Mercer."
>
> He winced; even to him it sounded weak.  He took his feet off the desk,
> pulled out a legal pad and started scribbling on it with a pencil.

Scully, now settled in the chair opposite his desk watched his frenzied
scrawling with open interest.  What she had said before was true... she was
willing to see.

> "What about her name, Scully?  Ceres?  Do you think that's just a
> coincidence too?"  He erased something, then went on with the
> scribbling.  "Ceres is the name of the first asteroid ever discovered."

"Yes, go on," she urged.

> He pulled a calculator out of the desk drawer, punched in some numbers,
> scribbled some more.  "In 1800 or so, astronomers were looking for a
> planet in the vicinity of 2.8 A.U., because mathematically there was
> supposed to be a planet there.  Instead they found Ceres, an asteroid.

"Well, actually Mulder there might have been a planet there at one time,
that's unsubstantiated at this point, but yes, Ceres, the asteroid
(or planetary fragment) was found there.  So, go on."

> Scribble, scribble.  "While Ceres is orbiting the sun between Mars and
> Jupiter, at certain times of the year, it passes right *in front of* the
> Pleiades.  Scully, don't you *see*?"

"Pleiades," she spoke allowed.  "Show me something else Mulder, a point
of reference... my astrology is a little rusty."

> Mulder put down the pencil, stood, fumbled through the star maps, as if
> looking for one in particular.  Clumsily, some of them fluttered to the
> floor.  "A few weeks ago, Cassiopeia entered its brightest house, and *at
> the same time*," he picked out one of the transparencies, held it up, then
> put it on the overhead.  "At the same time, Ceres, in its orbit around the
> sun, was here."  He pointed to a spot on the transparency.  "*Here,*
> Scully!  Don't you see?  Right in front of the Pleiades."

Scully looked at the point he indicated, a tiny blip in the universe... could it
all be tied to one young woman?  The notion both excited and frightened
here.  "So, let's say that this is true, Mulder.  Are you saying her parents
had some inkling of this, before her birth?  That by some divine or
supernatural suggesting they settled on the name Ceres to correspond with
her speciality?  Or did someone tell them this, prompting them to hide her
in a monastery?"  Scully considered.

"Let's look at the sketches again."

> He went back to the desk, scribbled a little more, then held the legal pad
> for Scully to see.  "Here is the diverting pattern in the pictures."  He
> looked at Scully's face, at the mathematical equations all over the legal
> pad.  "The pattern almost exactly coincides with the right ascension and
> declination of Ceres' orbit around the sun.  If, as you say, Jordan's a
> stargazer and a mindless doodler, is she also a mathematician?"

Scully held the legal pad, reading and discerning Mulder's calculations.
"Assuming your calculations are correct Mulder, and it appears they are,
this does present a startling coincidence."  She paused, looking up at him.
"One that most definitely merits further investigation.  But there are so
many things left unanswered... who her parents are, parents, why they left
her at a monastery, or if they even did.  Perhaps she was kidnapped as an
infant.  But still, it begs the question, why did she run away in the first
place?  Abuse?

> "She didn't run away, Scully, she's being *called*."

--*called*--.  The word hung in the room like a blanket of dread.  Her face
went white at the implication of the phrase, remembering what it meant.
"Mulder, I don't think--"

> Mulder's face suddenly lost its fervor as though something else were
> breaking through the tunnel vision, a different thought taking hold in his
> mind.  He touched the back of Scully's neck with his fingertips, feeling
> for the chip.  "Be careful, Scully," was all he could say.

She paled, looking at him intently.  "As you and I both no, we can be as
careful as we want," she said quietly, "it doesn't affect the outcome."

> Then he heard her cell phone ring.

The ring was too loud in the basement acoustics, Mulder's fingers still
lingering over the chip in her neck, the projector a sick glow in the
mid-morning gloom of the subterranean office.

"Scully," she answered shakily.

>> "Scully.  Can you and Agents Mulder and Reyes meet me in my Office
>> in an Hour?"

Scully furrowed her brow.  What could he possibly want now, just as they
were making headway with what might be an X-File?  She guessed at the
reason for the call, the ignored expense reports screaming accusation from
where they lay untouched on the corner of Mulder's desk.

"Sir, the reports are almost finished, Agent Mulder and I have happened
upon something very interesting actually, and we'd like to talk to you about
it."  Scully's words rang into dead silence, which worried her more than
Skinner's possible reaction to Mulder's latest theory.  "Sir?"  A pause.

>> "I'll explain when you get there."

He sounded a bit shaken, which was something for a man of his strength.
Whatever it was, it was bound to be important if it merited their
appearance, not to mention contacting Agent Reyes.

"Yes sir, we'll see you then."

She clicked off the phone, noticing Mulder was now across the room,
fingering the edge of his yellow legal pad.  "That was Skinner.  He wants
us in his office in an hour, Reyes too.  He didn't say what about, but it
sounds serious, Mulder."

His disappointment was registered with a bit of her own.  This was a
distraction, yes, undoubtedly an important one.  The big secret however,
and how they fit into it... well, that was yet to be seen.  With a quick
upward glance at the small basement window, she dialed Monica's number
and waited for her to answer.

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

Date:  03-25-02, 01:22 PM
RP:    NPC
Subject:  RP Ep: 2} Meetings (NPC, attn: CSM)
From:  Brandi

~*~*~*~*~*~
Nighttime
Undisclosed Location
~*~*~*~*~*~

Meeting in places such as these made him feel like less of who he was.

Nearly a part of the shadows themselves, Well-Manicured Man stepped out
into a moon-shaped puddle of light, pressed and tailored and wholly
emaculate.  He looked around distastefully at the narrow alleyway... water
dripped from an unknown source, puddling behind overflowing dumbsters.
Not far enough away vermin scratched for food, enlisting the help of larger
things he dare not consider.  Yes, meeting in places such as this almost
made him question if his work was really worth it.

Almost.

His driver Barney stood stiffly by the car, smoking a cigarette.  He'd been
told to keep watch, no surprises tonight, but in the cold damp air it was
hard to do anything perfectly, even for him.

As quickly has he'd stubbed the cig, a figure materialize in the smoke from
a steaming sewer cap, just as prim and proper and collected as his boss.
Passing Barney, he seemed to acknowledge him only casually.

"Sir," Barney said a little too loudly in WWM's direction, "Mr. Spender,
sir."

WMM turned slowly around, as if distrustful of Barney's observation.  He
adjusted the collar on his waistcoat, smoothing the line of it's stitch with a
gloved hand.  No pleasantries, he thought vaguely.  There were never any
pleasantries between them, only uneasy understanding.

"We have a situation," he said without introduction.  The girl in the
mountains has escaped."  He waited for the man to say something before
continuing.  To WMM, Spender had always seemed half-amused, no
matter what the circumstances.

"Also, Mulder and Scully have taken the drawings."  A pause.  "I don't
think I have to tell you what this means for us, and for them."  WMM
walked toward the smaller dumpster, seeking privacy within obscurity.
"We tried a recovery operation, but our messenger was foiled, by some
FBI agent, William Mercer.  Do you know anything of this man?"

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

Date:  03-31-02, 08:56 PM
RP:    Alex Benton
Subject:  Re: {RP Ep: 2} Scully Jumps ;-) (Attn: Mulder, Reyes & whoever wants Skinner)
From:  Nicca

Skinner sat behind his desk, his chair pushed out and swiveled to face the
door to his office.  He ran his hand over his eyebrows, rubbing it back and
forth across the tension that had been prograssively building there over the
last hour.  He lifted his left leg and swung it carelessly over this right,
accidently catching a stack of folders that had been placed on the edge of
the table to be perused by him later in the day.  The pile slid off the table
and loose papers lightly floated away from their files.

"For CHRISTS SAKE!."  He lunged out of his chair and absently swiped
at a pencil resting near the phone.  The pencil sailed across the office
slamming against the far wall, falling silently onto the carpeted floor.

His thoughts kept returning to Alex Benton, the rookie he lost, a young
woman who could be, at this very moment, laying dead in a ditch.  He felt
the pressure of the situation rise in his chest, spreading a flush up his neck,
to settle in his cheeks.  He had no clue as to her where abouts.  It seemed
as if she had been wiped off the face of the earth.  They had nothing on
Caridad Benitez or her group and bringing her in for questioning would
only comprimise the other officers involved in the case against her.  As far
as Skinner was concerned, Caridad had no part in his Agents
dissapearance.

The more he tried to make sense of the situation, the more confused he
became.  He looked at the wall clock and wonder where the hell Mulder
and Scully where.  He walked back to sit behind his desk and picked up the
note he had found on the dash board of his car, now sleeved in plastic.  He
was loath to involve Reyes in this particular investigation as he had no
personal experience with her or her investigative techniques.  He wasn't
sure whether he could fully trust her to remain discrete, not that he was
expecting his Agents to cover for his mistake.  As he pondered his options,
the intercom buzzed on his phone cradle.  He reached over and held down
the button.

"Yes Kim?"

"Uh...  Sir?  Agents Mulder, Scully and Reyes are here to see you sir.  Shall
I send them in?"  Kimberley's voice held some trepidation.  She most
definately heard his little little outburst earlier, he had no doubt about it.

"Ah...  Yes.  Can you divert all other calls to SAC Delvin for the next
hour?  I've already made arrangements with him.  And please, no
interruptions until the Agents have left, OK?"

"No problem Sir."

Skinner sat upright in his chair, straightened his tie and prepared for the
Agents arrival.  At the last moment, he remembered the files sitting
scattered at the foot of his desk but resigned himself to the fact that he
would have more explaining than he had planned for his charges.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Alex's hands had been tingling for the last half hour but she now felt
nothing when she wriggled her fingers and it worried her.  Her nose had
swolen at the bridge and her nostrils clogged with blood and other
secreations.  She had found a way to breath around the gag that was still
fastened tightly around her mouth but had began to feel faint from the lack
of oxygen.  No one had been in to see her and she could no longer see if
anyone was watching her from the double-sided mirror on the wall.  She
closed her eyes and wished she had never taking this assignment.  She
should be back at Quantico, cleaning her pistol and joking around with
Lisa.  Not in this seedy excuse of an interrogation room, if that was what it
was.  As she stretched her neck from left to right, a deep, resonant voice
came from behind her.

"You must be feeling a little confused, Alex."

Her eyes shot open and she tried to crane her head around to see who had
spoke.  And how on earth did they know her real name as she had no
papers on her to verify her true identity.

"I'm sorry about your nose.  Your a tough girl and it will heal cleanly."

She tried to talk through her gag but found her throat dry and scratchy.
She only managed a small croak before pain shot through her body as she
was racked with dry, harsh coughs.

"Don't speak.  Nothing you could say would help in any way.  You are part
of a much bigger picture, Agent Benton and it has only just begun."

As quietly as her visitor had come to her, he had left.  She tried to see if
there was any other doorways into the room but after a few moments, her
neck cramped and she moaned out in pain.  Now she was truly scared.
A small sob escaped her and it was all she needed to unleash a torrent of
tears that had been held back with pride and youthful defience.

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

Date:  04-04-02, 08:07 PM
RP:    CSM / NPC
Subject:  {RP, Ep 2} Rumors and Rumors
From:  Nancy

> "Umn... Mr... Special Agent guy.  I've got a job, here.
> What'm I gonna do about that?"  She cringed, realizing
> she sounded about 13.

< X-Files font >

Minneapolis, Minnesota

< / X-Files font >

Caridad Benitez tried to shake the worries out of her mind as she
climbed the stairs to Jordan Yorba's efficiency, dangling Jordan's watch
from her fingertips.  Several people had missed the big meeting the
other night, rumors were flying.  She tried to make her face appear as if
there were nothing on her mind.  Nothing at all.

She knocked on the apartment door, and it moved - the door was
unclosed.  Then she thought she heard a voice.

> Mercer smiled brightly.  This was one question he could answer with
> absolute certainty.  "Oh please don't worry about that, we'll get
> someone from the Burea to call your employer and explain the special
> situation, I can assure you there won't be any problems with you
> continuing your work after we get this sorted out."
>
> And why couldn't he?  The laundromat was one of the safer places
> since it appeared to have nothing to do with whatever was going on.

Bureau?  Caridad's mind raced.  What bureau?  A government bureau?
She caught her breath.  Did this have something to do with what had
happened to her friends?

Realizing she could be caught eavesdropping, she pushed the door
open.  "Jordan?  Are you okay?"  She pretended to be surprised at the
presence of the man who had mentioned a bureau.  He was muscular,
dark-skinned, and looked vaguely familiar.  "Oh, hello," she said.

Turning back to Jordan.  "I'm sorry, the door was open.  That is
dangerous, you know, there's a lot of bad people out there."  She
handed Jordan the watch, and smiled, "I come to return this.  I am
proud that you finish your first day of work."

Caridad looked back at the man and put on a proper motherly face, the
face of a virtuous person who disapproves of unseemly conduct on her
property, the face of a person unafraid to meet the long arm of the law.
"But who is this?  A relative?"

-0-0-0-0-0-

< X-Files font >

Undisclosed Location

< / X-Files font >

> "Sir," Barney said a little too loudly in WWM's direction,
> "Mr. Spender, sir."

The Cigarette Smoking Man (aka Cancerman, aka CGB Spender, aka
CSM) listened to his own footsteps echo loudly against the wet and
tainted asphalt of the alley.

He heard the driver's announcing him, and resisted the urge to
reprimand him; they were men without names in this line of work.
However, they were also, in this line of work, men who must focus no
matter the distractions.  Make the other guy blink.

The alley was dark, smoky with humidity, cold and tense.  The
silhouette of the other man turned, fidgeted with his clothing.  CSM
approached.

> "We have a situation," he said without introduction.  The girl
> in the mountains has escaped."  He waited for the man to say
> something before continuing.  To WMM, Spender had always seemed
> half-amused, no matter what the circumstances.

CSM lit a match, the flame partly illuminating his face in the dark and
narrow space among the dumpsters, a dingy area where things dwelt
that society needed but didn't want to see.  He lit the Morley and stared
at WMM for a moment before blowing out the match.  Finally spoke:
"Miss Yorba.  So I hear.  Anything else?"

> "Also, Mulder and Scully have taken the drawings."  A pause.
>  "I don't think I have to tell you what this means for us, and for
> them."

"Them?"

> WMM walked toward the smaller dumpster, seeking privacy within
> obscurity.  "We tried a recovery operation, but our messenger
> was foiled, by some FBI agent, William Mercer.  Do you know
> anything of this man?"

CSM followed WMM to the shadowier shadow, hearing now the sound
of their shoes stepping in puddles.  He inhaled deeply on the cigarette,
then exhaled, watched the smoke as it rose melding with the steam
from the manhole cover.

The sound of water splashing, the chatter of something eating in the
background.  CSM grinned at the Well Manicured Man and said
calmly, "Is this what we're reduced to?"

The noise seem to stop at once.  CSM flicked ashes on the ground.
"It's a rumor," CSM said in a voice as quiet and cool as a Siberian
mountain.  "What's next?  Reading the tabloids and calling it research?"

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

Date:  04-06-02, 10:23 AM
RP:    Jordan Yorba
Subject:  Re: {RP, Ep 2} Rumors and Rumors [ATTN: William, Caridad]
From:  Viki

Jordan whirled around to see Caridad standing in the doorway.  After
accepting her watch, her mind raced for an answer to her question.  She
smiled.

"No, this... my friend.  William.  I'm really sorry, I appreciate the job so
much, but I have to leave for a day or so."  She turned to William,
looking for support and help, not knowing what to say.

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

Date:  04-11-02, 08:35 PM
RP:    NPC
Subject:  Re: {RP, Ep 2} Rumors and Rumors [ATTN: William, Caridad]
From:  Nancy

> "No, this... my friend.  William.  I'm really sorry, I appreciate the job so
> much, but I have to leave for a day or so."  She turned to William,
> looking for support and help, not knowing what to say.

Caridad said, "Hello, William.  How are you?"

Then, to Jordan, "A day or so?  Then, you come back?"

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

Date:  04-12-02, 06:18 PM
RP:    Jordan Yorba
Subject:  Re: Re: {RP, Ep 2} Rumors and Rumors [ATTN: William, Caridad]
From:  Viki

>> "No, this... my friend.  William.  I'm really sorry, I appreciate the job so
>> much, but I have to leave for a day or so."  She turned to William,
>> looking for support and help, not knowing what to say.
>
>Caridad said, "Hello, William.  How are you?"
>
>Then, to Jordan, "A day or so?  Then, you come back?"

Jordan smiled and shrugged.

"I think so.  I hope so.  It shouldn't take long, just personal matters.
Really, I'm sorry."  She turned to William again, her eyes pleading for
him to help her out.

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

Date:  04-24-02, 05:24 PM
RP:    NPC (WMM)
Subject:  Re: {RP, Ep 2} Rumors and Rumors
From:  Brandi

> { X-Files font }
>
> Undisclosed Location
>
> { / X-Files font }
>
>> "Sir," Barney said a little too loudly in WWM's direction,
>> "Mr. Spender, sir."
>
> The Cigarette Smoking Man (aka Cancerman, aka CGB Spender, aka
> CSM) listened to his own footsteps echo loudly against the wet and
> tainted asphalt of the alley.
>
> He heard the driver's announcing him, and resisted the urge to
> reprimand him; they were men without names in this line of work.
> However, they were also, in this line of work, men who must focus
> no matter the distractions.  Make the other guy blink.
>
> The alley was dark, smoky with humidity, cold and tense.  The
> silhouette of the other man turned, fidgeted with his clothing.
> CSM approached.
>
>> "We have a situation," he said without introduction.  The girl
>> in the mountains has escaped."  He waited for the man to say
>> something before continuing.  To WMM, Spender had always
>> seemed half-amused, no matter what the circumstances.
>
> CSM lit a match, the flame partly illuminating his face in the dark and
> narrow space among the dumpsters, a dingy area where things dwelt
> that society needed but didn't want to see.  He lit the Morley and
> stared at WMM for a moment before blowing out the match.  Finally
> spoke:  "Miss Yorba.  So I hear.  Anything else?"
>
>> "Also, Mulder and Scully have taken the drawings."  A pause.
> "I don't think I have to tell you what this means for us, and for them."
>
> "Them?"

WMM wrinkled his brow.  "Yes of course *them*," he said quickly.
"Mulder and Scully are putting themselves at risk by involving
themselves in this."  He looked at the smoke curl from Spender's
Morley.  "But I suppose that is no new matter."

>> WMM walked toward the smaller dumpster, seeking privacy within
>> obscurity.  "We tried a recovery operation, but our messenger
>> was foiled, by some FBI agent, William Mercer.  Do you know
>> anything of this man?"
>
> CSM followed WMM to the shadowier shadow, hearing now the
> sound of their shoes stepping in puddles.  He inhaled deeply on the
> cigarette, then exhaled, watched the smoke as it rose melding with
> the steam from the manhole cover.
>
>The sound of water splashing, the chatter of something eating in the
>background.  CSM grinned at the Well Manicured Man and said
> calmly, "Is this what we're reduced to?"
>
> The noise seem to stop at once.  CSM flicked ashes on the ground.
> "It's a rumor," CSM said in a voice as quiet and cool as a Siberian
> mountain.  "What's next?  Reading the tabloids and calling it
> research?"

WMM scowled at Spender's apparent flippancy.  "I hear it is much
more than a rumor," he said coolly.  "Our field man saw Mercer with
his own eyes... with the girl, at a cleaners not far from here."

He stopped to read Spender's face, unreadable in the near darkness.
Briefly he thought of Barney, and knew without looking he stood
dutiful beside the car, waiting.

"If Mercer involves himself with the girl, it will be next to impossible
to continue as planned.  At this critical stage, corruption could be
catastrophic.  And if Mulder and Scully know of her, it *will* be
impossible."

He shifted his weight, wincing at the crunch heard underfoot.
"We were close to with her, Spender.  We've learned so much from
her already.  There's only one way."  A pause.  "Mercer must die.
And Mulder and Scully need a distraction."

WMM made his way back to the car, leaving Spender in the alley.
"I'll be in contact with you," he spoke from window.  "Hopefully we'll
both have something to report."

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

Date:  04-24-02, 05:28 PM
RP:    Dana Scully
Subject:  Re: Re: {RP Ep: 2} Scully Jumps ;-) (Attn: Mulder, Reyes & whoever wants Skinner)
From:  Brandi

Scully looked at Mulder warily as they waited outside Skinner's office.
His mind was elsewhere, and she couldn't hold his gaze.  Whatever the
cause, it wasn't like Skinner to totally divert their attentions to
something else, once they'd been assigned something.  Granted it was
busy work, but it was important to someone, at least.  With half the
bullpen sick with the flu, Mulder and Scully were a last resort to try to
stay ahead of the paperwork grind.

"Does anyone know why we're here," Reyes asked.  She was smiling at
Scully and smelled like a freshly extinguished cigarette.  Scully gave her
a tight smile and was about to reply when she saw Kimberly
approaching them, having just emerged from Skinner's office.
"A.D. Skinner will see you now," she said with a smile.

Scully followed Mulder into Skinner's office, and took a seat in the
middle chair between the two agents.  The room was a mess, papers
everywhere and Skinner looked like hell.  Sitting there, she immediately
she felt like the reluctant proctor, a role she was used to when it was
just Mulder and Skinner, but with Reyes, it made her nervous.  Perhaps
that's why she was so surprised when Reyes spoke first.  "Sir, excuse
me for asking, but what exactly is this concerning?"

Scully stole a quick glance at Mulder, who looked slightly annoyed
with this most recent turn.  He was thinking of Jordan.  She could read
it all over his face.

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

Date:  05-02-02, 03:44 PM
RP:    Jordan Yorba
Subject:  {RP} On the streets
From:  Viki

Jordan left the small laundromat.  She explained to Caridad that she had
to leave, reclaimed her stuff and left.  She didn't know where she was
going, or what she would do when she got there, but somehow she
knew she had to leave that place.

She stopped in a park about 4 blocks from the small apartment.  There
were college students having picnics and families playing catch with
their dog.  She smiled and wished that she had such memoirs from her
youth.  It wasn't that she had a bad childhood.  She just didn't have
much of one, living with a bunch of old, God-fearing men.  For an
instant she wished she could be back at the table, eating with Marie and
Joanie, laughing at some stupid thing one of the Monks had said or
something a teenage guy had done.  She knew she couldn't go back,
though; somehow, she knew that she probably shouldn't, either.

She left the park and started walking.  Things didn't seem so great, but
they didn't seem so bad, either.  She looked around.  Not a single
familiar face.

She entered a small convenience store and bought a can of Mello Yello.
She smiled and asked politely for the bathroom, and followed the
directions.  Something in the corner of her eye caught her attention;
then, it was gone.  She turned, and saw nothing.  Shrugging, she pushed into the bathroom.

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

Date:  05-03-02, 08:56 AM
RP:    NPC
Subject:  
From:  Brandi

A soft rain tapped lightly on the darkened glass, and though the
window was the latest technology, the world outside was black.
WMM leaned into the soft leather and closed his eyes.  Through the
transparent petition, he noticed Barney checked the side mirrors but not
the rearview.  He never looked there at all.

WMM thought of Mercer, of Jordan.  In his profession, or more
appropriately, in his line of work, there was never room for guilt or
retrospect.  If the past was looked up on, it was only so one may learn,
not learn from.  Had the child only stayed, this wouldn't be happening.
They'd given her a good life... better than any she could've had in "some
place," which had been the original idea.  But as he'd looked down at
the wiggling bundle so many years ago, he could not bear to lock her
away.  Even to this day, he didn't know why.  As WMM stared deep
into the outside nothingness, he allowed himself regret.  "Some place"
would be better, no doubt, and if given the chance to rectify his
mistake, he would.

The bulletproof Caddie floated over a speedbump, it's girth unfazed by
the bumpy road.  Though the windshield was expansive, the rain made
the road a Vaseline blur.

He contemplated the phone to his left, thought of Spender.  Spender
was always the difficulty.  Always feigning ignorance under a cool
cloak of unknowing, stupidly nonchalant.

He picked up the phone, dialed a number.  He needed to be sure
someone was tailing Jordan while Spender negotiated the situation with
Mercer.  And if he failed, which was not likely, at least the girl would
be out of the picture, the situation resolved.

-0-0-0-0-

2 hours later
Shop-N-Go Qwik-E-Mart, Minneapolis, MN.

-0-0-0-0-

The man in the corner of the convenience store tucked a stray lock of
hair underneath his cap.  In the reflection of the refrigerator case he
checked his appearance.  He was young, but not too young, and
attractive.  The girl would trust him if he played it safe.

He'd tailed her since she left the Laundromat.  She'd made some lame
excuse to the people she was with, a woman, and a guy that fit the
description of Mercer, and headed to a park not far from the building.
As luck would have it, no one followed her, though the boss had
warned him otherwise.

He saw her turn around the corner and he stepped to advance, then
pulled away, into the shadows.  It wasn't like him to be jumpy like this,
but something about this girl made him nervous, uneasy.

> Something in the corner of her eye caught her attention; then, it
> was gone.  She turned, and saw nothing.  Shrugging, she pushed
> into the bathroom.

A few minutes later he stood at the register, Twinkies and Pepsi in
hand.  As he saw her emerge from the bathroom he stepped discretely
into her path, causing a collision.  He heard her murmur something of
an apology as he clamored to pick up his useless parcel.  Looking from
under the bill of his cap, he locked eyes with her and smiled.  "It's not
your fault, really," he said with a sparkle.  "This place is too small to
turn around in."

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

Date:  05-03-02, 09:48 AM
RP:    Jordan Yorba
Subject:  Re: {RP Ep:2} Hindsight
From:  Viki

She came out of the bathroom and started to walk, head down, quickly.
She was halfway through the store when she bumped into someone.

"Uh, sorry."  She mumbled.

> Looking from under the bill of his cap, he locked eyes with her
> and smiled.  "It's not your fault, really," he said with a sparkle.
> "This place is too small to turn around in."

She was taken by his attractiveness.  Not really a Brad Pitt type, more
of a boy-next-door type, like Matt Damon.  She blushed a little and
smiled back.

"Oh, no, really, it is my fault.  I wasn't looking where I was going..."
her voice sort of trailed off, not really knowing what to say next, but
not wanting to leave.  She took the next best approach.

"Umn, my name is Jordan."  She stuck out her hand for a handshake.

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

Date:  05-03-02, 10:18 AM
RP:    NPC
Subject:  Re: Re: {RP Ep:2} Hindsight
From:  Brandi

> "Oh, no, really, it is my fault.  I wasn't looking where I was
> going..." her voice sort of trailed off, not really knowing
> what to say next, but not wanting to leave.  She took the next
> best approach.
>
> "Umn, my name is Jordan."  She stuck out her hand for a
> handshake.

"Jordan," he repeated with a smile.  "My name's Travis, nice to meet
you."  He took her hand and shook it gently.  "Do you live around
here?  I'm new in town, and I was wondering if you might know where
I could get a bite to eat."  He indicated the Twinkies and gave a small
chuckle.  "This isn't much by way of nutrition, you know."

He noticed the girl was shy by nature.  What he'd said so far was
innocent enough, and she appeared cautiously comfortable in his
presence.  Good, he thought with a smile.

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

Date:  05-03-02, 03:47 PM
RP:    Ringo Langly
Subject: Re: {RP, Ep2} Scully Jumps
From:  Jan

Langly cracked the door open carefully, looking around for anyone that
qualified as a threat to his life before slipping inside the small
interrogation room.  Withdrawing a switchblade from the pocket of his
jeans, he cut Alex's hands and legs free and tore through the gag with
one clean slice, all the while being ever-so-careful not to touch her skin
with the sharp steel knife.

The sound of footsteps echoed from outside -- someone was coming.
The doorknob began to turn.  Langly looked at Alex, fear in his eyes,
and he searched frantically for an alternate exit or hiding place as the
door slowly opened.

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

Date:  05-03-02, 07:52 PM
RP:    Jordan Yorba
Subject:  Re: Re: Re: {RP Ep:2} Hindsight
From:  Viki

> "Jordan," he repeated with a smile.  "My name's Travis, nice to
> meet you."  He took her hand and shook it gently.  "Do you live
> around here?  I'm new in town, and I was wondering if you might
> know where I could get a bite to eat."  He indicated the Twinkies
> and gave a small chuckle.  "This isn't much by way of nutrition,
> you know."

She smiled back and looked up through her eyelashes.

"Umn, I'm pretty new in town, too.  But, do you like Chinese?  I saw a
restaurant down the street.  I was sorta planning on going there for
dinner..."

<<WHOA!> Yelled her mind. <<HELLO?!?! *dinner*!?!?!?! to strangers
Invinting this?! What?s> Her brain was sending warning signals like no
one's business. She shook her head.

"That is, if you eat?"  She said, with a shy smile.

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

Date:  05-03-02, 09:16 PM
RP:    NPC
Subject:  {RP Ep:2} Hindsight Continuation
From:  Brandi

> "Umn, I'm pretty new in town, too.  But, do you like Chinese?  I
> saw a restaurant down the street.  I was sorta planning on going
> there for dinner..."
> <> Yelled her mind.  <> Her brain was sending warning signals
> like no one's business.  She shook her head.
> "That is, if you eat?"  She said, with a shy smile.

"Chinese would be great," he said pleasantly.  "I hate to eat alone."

He put back the snacks he'd had no intention of buying and followed her
out onto the busy street.  As they turned on West, he looked around for the
pick-up car--it was nowhere to be found.

He made small talk with Jordan, ignoring the bulge of his gun under his
windbreaker.  Where the hell were they?  With each passing moment he
lost an opportunity, missed a chance.  They were running out of sidewalk,
but with no liaison, the next step was useless anyway.

Up ahead and to the left he saw a swing-sign with Chinese lettering.  The
translation read "Palace of the Golden Moon," though it was anything but.
He gestured to Jordan.  "Is this the place," he said convincingly.  "It looks
nice."

The gun nudged at his ribs like a caged animal begging to be freed.  [Not
here], he had the urge to say, [not until there's somewhere to go].

Before following her into the restaurant he took one last look down the
street, finding nothing.  Until they arrived, he'd just have to wing it.

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