REPOST: TWELFTH NIGHT (16 of 28)

[Mary Ruth Keller]

Twelfth Night by Mary Ruth Keller (Part 16 of 28)

Part III - Solstice (Section 3 of 7)

Disclaimed in Part 1

--o-0-o--

Flat #2
Walford, London
Wednesday, 5:45 pm

Phoebe shrugged reluctantly out of Eric's enfolding arms. She had driven
directly from Heathrow to the Yard, letting the anticipation of their reunion
buoy her until the evening.

"Luv, why didn't you call? I would have fixed a real Jamaican special for
tonight, not my usual bachelor fare. But, no matter. While my girl sleeps
late, I'll round up the..." He tilted her chin up, concerned. "You will be
here for the weekend, won't you?" She closed her eyes and leaned her forehead
against his chest, willing him to understand.

"I'm sorry, I have to leave Friday afternoon, late. Max and Caroline will be
back in Vienna by then..."

"OH! Phoebe, when did you move to first names with his mother?" For the first
time in their relationship, she caught a glimpse of his temper, as he turned
his back on her. She threw her arms around his waist, shoving aside her own
fear, trying not to burst into tears.

"It's not like that, Eric. Max nearly collapsed outside Dachau and I helped
her, so she asked." He pulled her tenderly around to his chest, enfolding her
again.

"Sorry, sweet. I shouldn't worry, you're only doing your job. I couldn't bear
to think he would steal you away now." She stood on tiptoe to kiss his nose.

"No worries, My Heart, no worries. I'm yours for keeps if you'll have me." He
lifted her over his head.

"Luv, a reverse proposal! How quaint! And yes, I will, so don't you fret
either. Now, let me wash my head to get the paint off, and I'll treat my girl
at a little place I know."

--o-0-o--

Eric dipped the strips of roasted chicken in a fiery green jalapeno sauce
before gulping them down, amused by Phoebe's curled lip. "Try it, Inspector,
it's what keeps me hopping. But this Max is something of an art collector, you
say?" She sipped her glass of Red Stripe and nodded.

"Was, anyway. He collected Steens with his first wife, Thea, but the paintings
are in Haifa now." He leaned back, his eyes fixed on the wall behind her.

"Oh, THAT Max Lowenberg, I thought the name was familiar. He bought two of my
pieces when I was still in Jamaica, back when he was a lawyer and I was a
struggling accountant whose mind was elsewhere. My firm let me go shortly
afterwards, so his money kept me in beans and rice long enough to get
started." She squeezed his hand.

"Eric, I didn't know you were anything but an artist." He glanced grimly at
the approaching waiter.

"I have a degree from the University of Florida, but my mother had pushed me
into it, and I hated it. She never believed I could make it as a painter. But
I proved her wrong, what?" They smiled and began placing their orders.

--o-0-o--

Podhowitz House
Vienna, Austria
Thursday, December 19, 1996
11:13 am

"So the Inspector from Scotland Yard turned out to be the one, eh?" Isaac
passed a teacup of amber liquid to his brother-in-law. Max accepted it and
stirred in a spoonful of Demerara and a dash of cream before carrying the
drink to his wife, waiting on the sofa. Caroline smiled up at him as she
accepted the China cup and saucer and replied.

"Yes, she was. I can understand why Fox was so deeply attached to her. One
thing I do know about my boy is that he only pretends to be attracted by sexy
women with long legs and curvaceous bodies. But it's the intelligent ones who
capture his heart. His senior year in high school was the only time he was not
morose and withdrawn." She placed the cup gingerly on the saucer in her lap.
"You see, he was in a furious competition for valedictorian with Janice
Peters, and she was all he talked about, even after she beat him by 0.02
points on her GPA. But, poor Fox, she spent all her time studying Physics and
Calculus in preparation for MIT, and barely knew he existed." Max and Isaac
chuckled as she spoke, and her husband queried her.

"And Dr. Dana Scully?" She shrugged.

"I know what those two say, but her mother and I can always hope." Isaac
sipped his tea, intrigued.

"This Scully is his partner?" Max put the China down on the side table.

"Undergraduate degree in Physics and licensed pathologist. You should have
seen him leap across the room when she appeared down in Mexico. He was like a
drowning man reaching for a life preserver." Isaac lifted an eyebrow and
sobered.

"I hate to interrupt, but we were talking about Phoebe, not Dr. Scully,
although from your words, either would be fine companions for my nephew. She
will be appearing here tomorrow?" He looked from one to the other as they
affirmed his statement. Max brought the teapot back and freshened his wife's
cup.

"Actually, Caroline, that Eric Conners of hers is quite the artist. I met him
in Jamaica when I was conducting an multi-national merger, and bought two of
his early pieces. Wonderful things. He had a natural flair for Van Gogh type
landscapes, so I bought them while he was still an accountant. I'm glad to
hear he's made a go of the painting career. He was a miserable bookkeeper and
almost sank the deal with a few poorly placed decimal points." Isaac and
Caroline both smiled, remembering the days when Daniel's house rang with
similar conversations.

"Well, dear, perhaps both his greater and lesser talents will be useful to us
over the next few weeks, when we flush out these shady characters on our
tail." Isaac laughed out loud.

"They're down there in the alley still, you know. Perhaps we should send out
some eclairs and coffee to keep them warm."

--o-0-o--

Pennsylvania Avenue
Washington, DC
Thursday, 7:30 pm

Unbeknownst to the comfortably ensconced trio, the son and partner they were
so merrily conjoining would have been grateful for the hypothetical pastry and
beverage. Early in the winter, the jet stream had dipped to Georgia, driving
out the cooling air of the fall, and emplacing a dry Arctic mass. The
temperature hovered in the twenties, and the homeless had crowded the
shelters. But Johnny and the two agents were not among them.

"Can you hear that, Scully?" The partners were crouched behind the protecting
wall for the Archives Metro escalator, and Scully cocked her head, listening.

"Yes, Mulder, it sounds like our old friend has snagged another victim." From
a ragged lump on the steam grate, a familiar hoarse cough emanated, so the
three slipped forward to investigate.

"Hey, hands off!" Scully had reached out to touch the shiny forehead and found
her fingers nearly crushed by the gloved hand. "This is my corner, not yours,
so go away."

"But, you're sick, you have a fever, and should see a doctor." One eye peered
out from the rags, then two. They were sunken and set in a bearded face that
regarded them suspiciously.

"It's doctors who made me like this, so don't send me back to those quacks."
Scully had to bite her lip to keep from blurting out that she was a doctor,
but her partner intervened. <Titles and degrees don't mean a thing out here,
Dana.>

"Sorry buddy, we just heard you coughing. What do you mean, doctors made you
like this?" The heap of rags shifted and assumed a human shape.

"I was just fine with my Ma and Pa until some school administrator decided she
knew better, took me away, and sent me to a mental hospital." Scully touched
her partner's shoulder and he nodded. <He's not what we want.> They backed
away as he continued to drone on. His blue eyes dark, Johnny looked back over
his shoulder.

"He's one of the first people I met on the street, and I could have ended up
like that, but I'm OK now." The quiet tone was both reassurance for the
speaker and matter-of-fact. Mulder patted his shoulder.

"Yes, John, you're OK. Elizabeth told Scully that you were enjoying school?"

"Oh, yes, Agent Mulder, but this is fun too. It won't last forever, and I will
be helping you out. I won't miss much, since I have so much to catch up on,
but I could take Chemistry this next semester, Elizabeth promised, and it's so
much like math that it has to be interesting..." The partners frowned as the
stream of words rolled over them.

--o-0-o--

Fourteenth Street Shelter
Washington, DC
Thursday, 9:14 pm

"Hey." Scully jumped when the hand stroked her face, and since she was in the
first stages of sleep, she grabbed the fingers, her self-defense techniques
uppermost in her mind. <No, wait, it's...> She opened her eyes and apologized.

"Sorry, Mulder." He was wearing a familiar anxious expression, and she
realized she had him off his guard. "I'm not used to being petted at night."
<That should snap him out of it.> The eyes flashed, and he nimbly parried the
remark.

"Well, that's something I can certainly remedy, Scully." She pulled herself to
the edge of the cot, concerned that his fears had driven him here. Housed in
the basement of a Baptist Church, the shelter had separate quarters for the
men and women, to keep the support of the more conservative members of the
host congregation. It occupied three large cinder block rooms, one a dining
room with the trestle tables that they had visited on Halloween, and the
sleeping quarters, each containing four long rows of cots. John had pointed
out the broken lock on the door between the men's and women's bathrooms,
through which the tall agent had reached his partner.

"I'm OK, if you were worried. It's so noisy I've had trouble falling asleep,
but you should go back to the men's side, before we call too much attention to
ourselves." He responded with a curt nod before slipping his arms around her
shoulders, one hand sliding her head over until her ear was directly below his
mouth.

"Don't yell, Scully, I just read that note Langly slipped me on my tray when
he served us our dinners tonight. Two of the missing men have reappeared in
Xenia, Ohio." She clenched her teeth, but still it took all her will not to
cry out, so she clutched his shoulder, squeezing as hard as she could.

"What?" He was nodding, his nose pushing her hair back and forth as he did so.
"Don't tell me you think this somehow involves aliens now, Mulder." She was
whispering, but her intensity disturbed the tiny girl in the cot by her head.
Mulder caught the movement out of the corner of his eye and cupped his hand
over her ear, muffling his soft speech still further.

"No, Scully, I don't. The men clearly remember everything that transpired,
from the time they left the shelters, through the care they received from
HUMAN doctors, to their return via truck. Further, each was in the throes of
the virus when they were taken. I think someone would like the uninitiated to
believe so, but you and I have debunked too many false abductee stories for
this to distract even me." She relaxed, soaking up his warmth, feeling the
chill from thirty-six hours in sub-freezing conditions deep in her bones.

"You really OK, Scully? Your face still feels like ice." He rubbed her ear
between his thumb and forefinger.

"I'll be fine; I have to warm up soon. Where are the men now?"

"Langly E-mailed the information to Skinner, and the Ohio office is holding
them until he gets out there. One way or another, we'll nail these turkeys,
Scully." He looked up at the next cot, where a woman was tending a squalling
toddler, and frowned. "I don't see how you put up with this. I'd sneak you
back to the men's side, if I could, since all we hear over there are snores."
Squeezing her briefly, he sat back, and she pulled the blanket up around her
neck as he slipped away.

Even though she would never complain, he was relieved that they had to come
off the streets tonight, at the Gunman's signal. <The last thing any of us
needs is a bad case of hypothermia.> He rubbed his chest as he pulled the thin
blanket over himself on the cot. Their dinner sat like a lump in his stomach,
and he grimaced, remembering John announcing upon their arrival that this was
one of the 'better places'. <Are we too late? Is the experiment over and is
the FBI being brought in at the last minute to assist in the cover-up?> He
felt a tugging on his blanket.

"Agent Mulder?" John appeared beside him. "You should see this." He slid out,
fully dressed, having taken the boy's warning that his scuffed-up jogging
shoes and smelly jacket would be highly prized quantities. He followed the
slender figure to one of the few windows, and they watched as two stretchers,
each occupied, were loaded into a truck. One of the prone figures coughed, and
a voice in the dark consoled him, telling him that the hospital they would
reach shortly knew 'just how to handle this'. <Two leave, and two more are
brought in.> The outside doors were locked for the night, so Mulder was
powerless, and could only observe.

--o-0-o--

National Portrait Gallery
Washington, DC
Friday, December 20, 1996
2:14 pm

"Well, what have our subjects been up to?" The balding man looked up from the
flyer he had been reading as he waited for his superior to arrive and debrief
him. Since he had no family, and the surveillance was expected to run through
Christmas, he had volunteered for this assignment. An outsider would pay no
attention to the two men in well-made, imported dark wool suits, over white
shirts and red silk ties. But both were here on business, not pleasure, and
the one who was seated rose as the older man spoke to him. They wandered
through the gallery, avoiding the tourists.

"Not much, really. They're doing a good job of blending in, and have stopped
by four of the shelters under investigation over the past three days. I
believe they witnessed the removal of two test subjects last night."

"Oh?" The younger man nodded.

"They have not left the vicinity of the Fourteenth Street Shelter, but I don't
see what they will learn there."

"Ah. And the woman?" The bald man shrugged.

"She seems a little worse for wear, to be frank, Sir. The virus may have
affected her most of all."

"I see. If she weakens any further, we'll have to bring them in, won't we?
Thank you, Nichols. I shall speak with you in a day or so."

--o-0-o--

Somewhere over Switzerland
Friday, 6:45 pm

"Eric, you really didn't have to come. I could have brought in an Inspector to
help with this, Richard McCoombs, for instance. He's already aware of many of
the details of this case, and I won't have to worry about you." He clasped her
hand, entwining their fingers.

"No, Luv, you don't understand. Max Lowenberg helped me when no one else
would, and if he is in any danger, then I should be there." He shook their
hands. "Besides, how can I bypass a free trip to the city of Klimt and Gerstl
with my girl?" Phoebe sighed, relieved.

"Eric, Caroline wanted you to be there, but I just didn't feel right asking
you for your help, given our personal connection. This is a complicated
deception we wish to create, and only an accomplished portraitist could pull
it off. You're sure you can copy the painting?" He smiled.

"Of course, Sweet. That's one of the ways an artist learns, by making detailed
copies of the Masters. When I was making copies to support myself after first
moving to England, I found, if I studied a painting long enough, I could
almost get inside the creator's head. You see how the colors were layered and
textured, which reveals both the composition as it was originally conceived,
and how creative variations were handled. Are you three sure this is what they
are after?"

"I don't know, Eric, that's one of the reasons I wanted you to stay home.
Caroline won't confirm or deny any of the information I relayed to her,
claiming to still be bound by some fifty-one year old oath..."

"Hey, don't knock faithfulness, Phoebe. I intend to keep a certain vow at
least that long." She glanced down at the diamond solitaire on her left hand.
<I never expected this. It must have cost the rest of his profits from the
show.>

"Eric, please. She was involved in some high level work, at least from what
the Fiche records told me, but with all the women being let go, it should have
ended there. She acts as if some of what she was involved in is still going
on, and it may well be. Otherwise..." The pilot's warning of turbulence
interrupted her, and they buckled in as the plane dipped and turned.

--o-0-o--

End part 16 of 28.
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Mary Ruth Keller - Alexandria, VA "Is it possible distain should die while
Phone: (703)683-1599 she hath such meet food to feed it, as
mke...@universe.digex.net Signior Benedick?" - Much Ado About Nothing
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