Subject: Just Like Old Times, PART 4 END

From: [email-masked] (Michael Francis)
Date: 13 Nov 1994 03:04:02 GMT

Just Like Old Times,  Conclusion
  
  "Her company was on it's way to resupply, when they got ambushed by a 
rag-tag outnumbered group of escaped POWs.  She was shot in the 
shoulder.  All she could think of, was what was going to happen when her 
countrymen tried to put on a field dressing.  She found a hole; probably 
a mortar crater,  crawled in, and waited to die.  She just lay there, 
hoping no one from either side found her.  It took her two days to die. 
 She says-"  Lenny stopped a moment, getting control of her voice.  
"She's buried beside this building.  I guess she picked me because I'm a 
woman; because she thought it would be safe.  She never showed herself 
to anyone, until last night.  She saw what that man did, last time.  She 
couldn't stand to see it again."
  She stood up and paced.  "We have to dig her up and move her."
  "Lenny,"  Mulder began."
  "No, I promised."
  "I know.  I was going to say, maybe we can ask Scully to supervise it. 
 We can't do it ourselves,- besides.  She can do the autopsy and try to 
find any records.  We'll help her with that.  If what you say is true, 
you may be able to get her into Arlington."
  "No!"  Lenny shuddered.  "No.  Someplace nice.  Away from- oh God."  
She put her face in her hands.  "I can't believe- "
  "Did the Ripper trigger the accelerated activity?"  Bud asked.
  "I think so."
  "Bud, give it a rest."  Mulder said, putting an arm around Lenny and 
guiding her to the sofa.
  Bud looked from one to the other, shrugged, and turned off the 
recorder.  He started to gather up his data, but the look on Mulder's 
face convinced him to put it off till tomorrow.  He said a quick good 
bye, and left.
  "You know,"  Lenny said, still a little shell-shocked, "as far as men 
go, you're not so bad."
  He wisely said nothing.
  "She didn't just tell me all that stuff.  Some of it, she let me see 
her memories.  It was as if I was there."  She carefully put down her 
coffee cup.  "I think I'm gonna go be sick now."
  "Need some help?"  He helped her stand.
  "No, I think it's pretty much gonna come up on it's own."  She headed 
to the bathroom.
  "I'll be here when you're done, then."
  Understandably, she didn't answer.

  Lenny's boss gave her an indefinite unpaid leave, but she was pretty 
sure she wouldn't be going back there.  She took a room at an upscale 
hotel, and closely followed the grave site investigation.  Two days went 
by before the skeleton was located.  At the official exhumation, she 
stood beside Mulder, still amazed that it was true.
  Buttons from a union soldier's uniform were found with the skeleton, 
and the left shoulder blade was chipped.  The skeleton was carefully 
lifted out and put into the back of an ambulance.
  "I'll let you know what I find."  Scully said, peeling off her gloves. 
 "So far, though, it looks just like you said it would."
  "Thanks for taking this on."  Lenny said.  "It's- it would have been 
important to her to have a woman do it."
  "No problem.  It's not like I'm getting anywhere with my case.  This 
may have scared him off."
She said good bye, and went to her car.
  "Well,"  Lenny said, heading toward the tenement.  "It's over."
  Mulder followed her inside.  "Except it isn't, is it."  He paused in 
the stairwell.  "You thought you knew what was causing all this.  That's 
why Bud's findings never bothered you.  You knew it was a ghost, or some 
entity."
  Lenny stared at him.  "What are you-"
  "You asked it if someone had sent it.  Who?  Who would send something 
supernatural to you?  And  why did you ask me if the Ripper killings 
were ritualistic?  You thought you knew what that was about, too.  Until 
you were attacked; then you weren't sure."
  "What brought this on?"
  "Naomi communicated fear to you that first time.  You said "don't let 
them find me".  You didn't know her story, so when I asked you about it, 
you thought it was something you let slip.  Who are you hiding from, 
Lenny?"
  She shook her head.  "You been out in the sun too long.  I need to get 
some things out of my apartment, excuse me."  She headed up the stairs, 
with Mulder on her heels.
  "What's the family business?"  he asked.  "Why don't you want to touch 
their money?"
  "Look, you haven't exactly come clean, either."  she stomped up the 
stairs.  "Why don't you and Dana want to be seen in public together?  
What happened to you to make you so suspicious of everyone?  And is it 
just paranoia, or are they really out to get you?"
  Reaching her floor in record time, she jammed the key in the door and 
opened it.  "I'll tell you what, G-man.  Make you a deal.  I'll tell you 
mine, if you tell me yours."
  He stood in the doorway glaring and tightlipped.  Slamming the door 
open, he pushed past her.  Looking around, he grabbed her transistor 
radio and headed to the door.  "Come on."
  "What's that for?"  she pointed at the radio.  When he didn't answer, 
she figured it out.  "Cover music?"  she laughed, then laughed some 
more.  Taking the radio from him, she set it down and took his hand.  
"There's more in heaven and earth to worry about than parabolic 
antennas, Horatio."
  Stunned, once again, he followed her in.  "How do you know about 
parabolic antennas?"  he asked.
  "You think you guys are the only ones who read Tom Clancy?  Look; 
lemme grab what I need, then I know a place where we can talk."
  She stuffed some clothes in a duffel bag, then led the way out.  At 
her direction, they drove some way south, to a semi-suburban area.  He 
pulled up in front of an imitation Cape Cod salt box cottage.
  "Just let me do the talking."  she said as they walked up to the front 
door.  She rang the bell, and a young woman came to the door.  
  "We're closed."  she said.
  Lenny said a word Mulder had never heard before, and for some reason 
could not remember afterward.  The girl started to step back, then 
peered more closely at Lenny.  "Pape!"  she spat.
  "I'm not with them."  Lenny explained.
  "Still, a Pape.  Take your business else-"
  "Tina!"  came a strident voice from inside the house.
  The girl moved to one side, admitting an old woman with flaming red 
hair, and redder lips.
  "Nehna Liz."  Lenny said, smiling.
  "I knew it."  The old woman nodded.  "And not alone, I see.  Didn't I 
tell you that-"
  "Yes."  Lenny cut her off.  "We just need a clean room for about an 
hour."
  Liz, the old woman, shooed Tina away to take care of some chore.  
"Come in.  I've just put fresh clove-balls in the parlor.  It should do 
nicely."
  Lenny followed her in, motioning for Mulder to follow.  They ended up 
in a small sitting room, profusely decorated with country gitch.  In 
each corner, hung an apple covered with cloves.
  "How lovely, Nehna Liz."  Lenny said.  "Thank you so much for your 
hospitality."
  "Private, too."  Liz said, grabbing a broom from the corner.  "One 
moment."  She swung the broom in low strokes, rather then sweeping with 
it.  At one point she waggled a finger at Lenny and said "Always mind 
the corners!"  Finally, she sighed "There, that's done.  Come to the 
kitchen when you're through."
  Mulder waited until the door closed, then turned to Lenny.  "What the 
hell-"
  "One of the less popular sects, but no less effective.  Look:"  she 
moved aside a heavy drape.  There was no window, just metal sheeting.  
"Lead."  she explained.  "The whole room is lead lined.  Just a nod 
toward modern surveillance.  Sit down."
  He shook his head, but sat.  "Now will you tell me what's going on?"
  "Uh-uh.  Since you like being fair, and since you were the one to 
bring it up, you go first."
  He was about to protest, but decided there was no use.  So he told her 
everything.  Well, everything she would believe; which in view of recent 
events was quite a bit.  But, of course, not all.  He couldn't quite 
bring himself to that.
  Lenny nodded, stood, and began to pace.  "I'm glad you went first."  
she said.  "That makes things a little easier for me.  I didn't lie when 
I said I didn't want to go into the family business."
She turned to him.  "Don't let what I'm going to tell you leave this 
room.  Don't even think about it too much.  And God, don't tell Dana.  
She has no idea."
  He agreed, and she went on.
  "First off, I'm a traitor.  I am actively betraying my family.  I 
don't excuse it, but I can explain why.  Dana probably told you Papes 
came over on the Mayflower.  Where they were before, I can only guess; 
the records are unclear.  What she didn't tell you, what she didn't 
know, is that the seed money for the family fortune came from turning in 
alleged witches and accepting their property as awards and compensation. 
 And that's the least dirty family secret. "
  "Criminals and ruthless business man.  You may as well be describing 
half the wealthy families in America; or even the world."
  "With one exception.  Papes didn't turn in witches for fun and profit 
alone.  See, if you made accusations, no one looked at you.  They did it 
to turn suspicion away from themselves.  They were the real witches."  
She let that sink in, and went on.  "When I was twelve, my grandmother 
began to show an interest in me.  First. she had me do seemingly 
innocuous things:  Look at pictures, perform pointless tasks, touch 
animal carcasses.  Sometimes she would lay pictures of people on the 
floor, and have me step on them.  There were hundreds of little things, 
all meant to erode resistance, and inure me to what would come later.  
By the time I was sneaking cigarettes and discussing prom possibilities 
with Dana, I'd moved up to desecration of quasi-sacred objects, like 
glow in the dark plastic crucifixes.  I knew it wasn't normal; that most 
peoples grandmothers baked cookies and played bingo.  I was proud of 
being different.  Besides, I was having a great time in school.  
Everything, I mean everything went my way."
  "So what went wrong?"  he asked.
  "I dunno.  Things started to bother me.  I'd be in the middle of 
something, and I'd have to stop.  I couldn't go on.  I knew, all of the 
sudden, that it wasn't right.  I've been told it was spiritual 
intervention, but I think I just...woke up.  Had a crisis in faith, so 
to speak.  My parents, they don't know about any of this.  The sect is 
matriarchal, so Dad was never in on it, and mom was an outsider."
  "Your grandmother is the leader?"
  "She's...up there."
  Mulder rubbed his chin thoughtfully.  "And you?"
  "No."  Lenny turned to face him.  She looked pale and shaken.  "I'm 
small potatoes.  They can replace me if they want, they just don't want. 
 In two hundred plus years, there has never been a Pape who just dropped 
out.  Right now, we're still at the firm but gentle wooing stage.  They 
don't want to upset my parents."
  Mulder began to put things together.  "You thought the dancing dinette 
was something your grandmother...conjured up.  That's why you asked if 
somebody sent it."
  "Something like that.  Just a reminder, you know?  And I still wasn't 
sure it was real, until you and Dana saw it."
  "And you thought the murders were done by them?"
  "Warnings, or threats.  Then he attacked me and Naomi appeared.  Two 
theories shot down at once."
  He sat up.  "You mentioned betrayal."
  She nodded.  "I knew I was going to run into trouble sooner or later, 
so I started buying favors and protection with-"  she began to pace 
again.  "As a Pape, my-"  she paused to look at him.  "You have to 
understand,-"
  "Go on."
  "My hair and nails and blood are very valuable to opposing sects.  
Initially, they approached me.  Guess word of my fall from the nest got 
around.  Look; I know this all sounds crazy,-"
  "I've heard crazier; some of which came true."
  "Yeah, well; I wish this wasn't.  What a mess."  She shook her head.
  "You have to admit, though, my guys are badder than your guys."
  Lenny laughed bitterly.  "Lemme hip ya, G-man:  Some of your guys are 
my guys."
  Mulder took a moment to let that sink in.  It would explain a few 
things.  "Do you have names?"
  "Not on your life."
  "I'm a big boy, I can handle it."
  "I can't"
  He let it drop.  "I get the feeling there's more."
  She steeled herself.  "The New Mexican council brought to light a 
prophecy.  I've been in contact with several sects."  She shook her head 
again.  "When I was seven, I wanted to be a fireman.  Now I may end up 
as Joan of frigging Arc.  I either run, which isn't really an option; or 
stand and fight."
  "Why isn't running an option?"
  "My grandmother's a fairly potent telepath.  I just think the wrong 
thing, and she's hot on my trail.  So, I stay.  except there's a scalpel 
wielding maniac, who may be trying to track me down."
  "My offer's still good."
  "Tempting, but I don't want to get you involved in this."
  "How noble."  He said sarcastically.
  "What?"
  "No, really; you have my vote for sainthood."
  "Screw you."  she fumed.
  "Now there's an idea."
  "look, you could just tell me you don't believe me."
  "I do believe you."  He stood.  "At least, I believe you believe.  
What's more, if they believe it, that's enough to make them genuinely 
dangerous:  witches or not.  So I guess belief is a moot point.  The 
real point is how they have you jumping through hoops for them.  Scully 
said you never let anyone tell you how to live.  Why start now?"
  She stood with her hands on her hips.  "Now ain't you just the wisest 
lil' G-man."
  "Fine."  he headed for the door.  "I hope you and your martyr complex 
will be happy together."
  "Wait-"  she called, then smiled a little.  "God, you can be such a 
son of a bitch."
  "Lenny, whatever these people's trip is, they don't care about you.  
They'll send you out as a sacrifice, then talk about you like a hero 
when you're gone.  But you'll still be gone.  As for your grandmother:  
she left you pretty much alone this long.  Why should she pick now to go 
after you?  And if she's that bad, wont she just find you no matter 
where you go?"
  "And what if I am really crazy?"
  "Knowing what you know about me now, do you really think I'm the one 
to judge someone else's sanity?  I'm not too sure I have such a firm 
grip on my own."
  She smiled a little.  "So we just shove all our his and hers matching 
delusions in a closet, and pretend everything's normal?"
  "Except the "ripper".  He's real."
  "Great.  Our anchor in reality is a maniac with a fetish for Dewy 
Decimal."
  He smiled back at her.  "Can we get out of here now?"
  "Will you dance with me in your kitchen?"
  "All night, if you want."
  "Well."  she took his hands in hers.  "How could I possibly resist an 
offer like that?"

  On the way home Lenny fell asleep, so Mulder had some time to sort 
things out.  She could be delusional, but that didn t fit with 
everything else.  After all, the old woman and Tina weren t delusions, 
and things they said supported Lenny s claims.  That left the 
possibility that she was telling the truth, which meant he was going to 
be sharing his house with an apostate witch.  You don t run across those 
every day.  Either way, life was sure to be interesting for awhile.
  He helped her carry in her things, which they d stopped by the hotel 
to pick up.  Digging up some clean linens, he made up the couch; a 
superfluous gesture.  Once all the busy work was done, he couldn t 
resist showing off his stereo.  She danced with him, barefoot, on his 
livingroom rug.
  The music seemed to last longer than it should have, or maybe they 
just got impatient long before the music ended.  Casually, they drifted 
to the bedroom.  There was a brief query and resolution to the condom 
issue, and the usual awkward moments of too many clothes and confused 
limbs.
  He was fascinated by how she moved, how she looked, how she gently bit 
the tender skin of his inner thigh.
  She loved the way he watched her, the way he kissed her,  the way he 
never missed a beat when they fell off the bed.
  Once, the phone rang.  He reached up and yanked the cord out of the 
wall, while never once taking his eyes off her.  When they were 
finished, he pulled a blanket off the bed and the fell asleep on the 
floor.
  He woke to the sound of someone pounding on the front door.  Careful 
not to wake her, he grabbed his pants and went to get rid of whoever it 
was.
  When he got back, she was gone.

  He wasn t really surprised.  It wasn t the first time someone he had 
come to care about was gone from him.  He did wonder how far she was 
going to get without her clothes.  Other than that, all he felt was 
habitual resignation.  That is, until Bud brought him a post card he d 
received from New Mexico.  It simply read  Tell our friend the Raven 
lied. 
So much for nevermore.

  Paul Kim sat stewing in Long Island Expressway traffic.  He could sure 
use a trip to Washington, but after the screw-up with that socialite 
bitch, that was out.  He was still torqued about losing a scalpel, but 
he knew it was clean.  A sloppy, sloppy mess, he thought.  Well, time to 
pick a new M.O. and a new town.  Like the others, it had to be within a 
single night s drive.  Also, it had to be large enough to have creepy 
little deserted hiding places where even the cops hated to go.  He was 
mentally reviewing the tri-state area, when The Boss came on the radio, 
softly crooning about  Philadelphia. 
  Paul Kim smiled.