FILE #60020.1 

Yes, this is a Doggett & Reyes story, Doggett, Reyes & the Lone Gunmen property of Ten Thirteen Productions, everybody else & the story belongs to me:) For the morbidly curious, here you go.  Enjoy.  
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"I sing the body electric."--Walt Whitman 

*** 

July 1971.  
Bayview, California.  

Police swarm a dark forest, floodlights filling the night sky.  Shouts of "She's here!" lead to a young girl's bloody body.  Her long brown hair spills over her softball uniform, her hazel eyes lifeless.  A middle-aged man in glasses and a doctor's white coat runs to the body, holding it in his arms, stroking her hair and weeping over her.  "My baby, my poor baby," he rocks her in his arms, her unseeing eyes staring upwards.  

An unshaven, balding man sits in a police car, staring at the scene.  His face is blank, and his eyes don't blink as more floodlights fill the area.  His blue eyes are only on the girl.  


8:21 p.m.  
July 8, 2001.  
Shreveport, New Jersey.  

In a dark, wooded place, a girl's voice starts to cry out, but a man snarls at her.  He croons to himself seductively, sickeningly.  Clothes are being tugged, pulled, a fly unzipped.  The night is suddenly filled with screams, solid body punches, bones cracking and crunching.  The only thing visible to a casual observer is the flashing lights illuminating the trees.  


10:15 a.m.  
July 9 
Federal Bureau of Investigations.  

It's another glorious summer day and he has to spend it in a basement.  Doggett walks into the office, prepared to glower when he sees Reyes smile at him.  He doesn't know which is brighter, the lone window or her smile.  He smiles briefly, then looks at the file in his hand.  "I don't think this is an X-File, Monica.  Sounds more like a serial killer with a thing against sex offenders.”  

She stopped typing.  "Why not?" 

He sighed, almost reluctant to go on.  Sometimes he thought people just dumped weird stuff on them after reading "The National Inquirer.”  "Do you believe in killer guardian angels?" 
Reyes shot a double take.  "What?" 
_____________________________________ 

"In Shreveport, New Jersey, a six year old named Stacy O'Connor said that her guardian angel killed this man, who was also her foster father and softball coach.  Now she's not talking, just curled up fetal position in a children's hospital.  And her foster sister is missing, suspected dead.”  

"Suspected dead? Why?" At this point, Reyes is more concerned for her partner than for the child, but his eyes in the file, he doesn't notice.  

"’Cause this guy was a three-time convicted sex offender and murderer, released after serving with good behavior.  Randy Orson Grady had a habit of burying his victims in strange places, so the police are combing the area for the girl's body.  The missing girl is Katie Anna Miller, about eight years old, also on his softball team.  Thing is, Stacy was molested by him apparently before he was killed.  I'm guessing the same for Katie, who was unlucky enough to be the first victim.  Stacy's probably in shock, she claims she saw flashing lights when she heard Grady screaming.”  

Reyes looked at him closer, and this time their eyes met.  "Why not believe her? The molester is dead, and a little girl is alive.”  

"Thing is, this isn't the first case like this, a sex offender or child molester being killed after abusing a child, with the MO of electrocuting and badly crushing the offender before killin' 'em--but this is the first time we've got a witness.  This vigilante's been all over the country for the past twenty years, and now there's a killer angel?" 

Reyes took the file from him, and began looking at the victims' bodies, beginning with the most recent.  "John, look at this.”  

"What?" he asked, not unkindly.  

"These burns are hand-shaped.  I'm guessing that's the cause of the flashing lights, but how it was accomplished--you'd have to have some kind of gloves.”  She frowned with concentration, something wasn't right about the shape.  

"At least you're not suggesting aliens," he grinned.  

She grinned back at him, inwardly relieved he wasn't reliving his inner demons from the missing children section and his son's death.  "Hey, flashing lights, missing girl, could be.”  She flipped to a picture of Katie, who is smiling in a softball uniform, her hazel eyes and braided brown hair glinting in the sunlight.  

________________________________

November 1972 
Federal Court Building, Bayview.  

The judge declares George Trudy, the balding man now in a suit, not guilty.  As the gavel hits the pad, the doctor's eyes widen in shock behind his glasses.  His right hand drops a picture of his smiling daughter to the floor.  Trudy smiles at the doctor, who can only whisper, "No, he killed my baby, no, no...”  

*** 

5:21 p.m., July 9, 2001.  
Bingham, New York.  

A handsome man in a three-piece suit talks to a girl.  She smiles and nods after he offers her candy.  She laughs when he lifts her up and places her on his shoulders.  As they walk through the town like this, he hums jauntily.  Some people smile and wave at the girl, they both wave back.  

Half a block behind them, a man clenches his fists.  He keeps his distance as the businessman and the girl make their way to the park, heading towards the slide.  His eyes narrow as he slings his backpack.  He has time.  The girl may not.  

_________________________________ 

7:15 p.m.  
Queens' Hospital for Children 
Shreveport, New Jersey.  

In the hallway, Doggett and Reyes are talking with a middle-aged woman with dyed blonde hair and hollow brown eyes.  Her casual dress is wrinkled, as is her face while answering questions.  "I can't believe he'd do that.  Not to Stacy," she says, "not to Katie, not to anyone.”  She stares through a glass window, facing Stacy's curled form.  

"Mrs. Grady, I know it's a lot to take in right now," Doggett said with concern etched on his face.  "But according to his records, your late husband was a convicted sex offender before this happened.  We're gonna catch whoever killed him ma'am, but we need your help.  Can you tell us anything about the missing girl, Katie?" 

"Katie?" She almost smiled at Doggett.  "All that girl cared about was teddy bears, softball and singing.  And Stacy.  Like they were real sisters.  They shared everything, bedroom, toys, snacks...I remember Katie singing Stacy to sleep sometimes.”  She looked at them, as if willing them to understand.  "She was just a regular kid.  Like all the others.”  

"You've had other foster children?" Reyes asked, more interested.  

"Yeah, even before I met Randy.  I got a job, a nice place, I wanted to share it with kids who didn't have that.”  Mrs. Grady looked down.  "You think Randy just wanted....”  

"We don't know what Randy wanted," Doggett broke in gently.  "And now we'll never know.”  His cell phone rang, and muttered, "Excuse me," as he walked away to answer it.  

Reyes said, "Mrs. Grady, if you happen to recall if your husband had any enemies, or people he didn't get along with...”  

Mrs. Grady gave a lopsided smile.  "I just found out he was a sex offender.  Otherwise I would've told you any coach their team played against, they had a killer winning streak, you know that?" 

Reyes shook her head.  Doggett walked back to the women with a set jaw and, if Reyes didn't know any better, anger and hopelessness in his eyes.  

"Local PD says they mighta found Katie.  Could you come with us, ma'am," Doggett asked.  Mrs. Grady shook her head yes, and turned to look at Stacy before they left.  
________________________________ 

7:15 p.m.  
Interstate 440, Tennessee.  

A businessman smiles as the wind ruffles his passenger's hair.  His car isn't fancy, an '87 Plymouth, but it takes him where he needs to go.  Pop music plays as the scenery flies past their open windows.  His passenger, summer sunlight reflecting off her braids, is starting to snore gently.  Soon, the car pulls over to the side of the road, stopping by a small thicket of trees.  
After a few moments, the sounds of crunching bone and screams and the sight of flashing lights fill the car.  Suddenly, the car hurtles itself towards the trees.  As the car crashes, a broken body flies through the windshield and hits the tree.  
After the impact, a figure gets out of the car and walks toward a truck stop.  
_______________________________________________________________________ 


Under the bridge, on the Shreveport Stream floor.  

Officers have cordoned off the area with familiar yellow tape, some are snapping pictures of the scene as the agents and the widow drive up.  They walk over to a blonde woman with military bearing who appears to be in charge of things.  Reyes hides a smile, she looks vaguely like Gabrielle from "Xena", but taller and more businesslike in a black leather jacket, dark top and slacks.  

"Where is she?" Doggett asked, eyes scanning the scene.  

"Over there," she points, and they see a black body bag zipped up beside the base of the bridge.  As they walk over, she added, "Kids bike and skate here sometimes.  One of the boys fell, looked up, and saw her tied up under the bridge.  Thought he recognized her as Katie, but refused to look at the body when it was taken down.”  She unzipped the bag, and they all grimaced at the smell and sight.  

After a moment, Mrs. Grady shook her head.  "That's not Katie.  That's Michelle Loveless, one of Katie's friends.  Randy didn't do this, did he?" 

"We'll have to run tests to determine who the perpetrator was definitely, but evidence strongly points to your late husband.  We'll keep searching for Katie," and her tone softened when she saw Mrs. Grady's face, "we'll do the best we can.”  

"Pardon me for askin'," Doggett said, after the widow was ushered to an officer with a notepad, "but if you're not with the local PD, who are you?" 

She grinned briefly in acknowledgment, "I'm Gina Carmichael, with the National Missing Children Center.  Thought tonight would be another night at the office," she looked at Mrs. Grady and the officer, "and now I'm looking for Katie Miller.  If you don't mind, I'll be taking Mrs. Grady home and asking her a few more questions.”  They shook their head.  "Great.  Where are you staying?" 

"The Vagabond Inn," Reyes replied, "and if you have anything helpful, feel free to stop by.”  

"Thanks," Carmichael shook her hand, "I will.”  She shook Doggett's hand, then winked, "Talk to you later.”  She walked off briskly, as if she hadn't just flirted with a federal officer.  

Doggett looked almost shocked, then uncomfortable.  Reyes grinned at his reaction, "Must be your rugged good looks and Southern charm, John.”  Her grin deepened.  "Or it could be your aura, or an alignment in the stars--" 

He cut her off.  "Or she's been in her cubicle too long.”  
___________________________________ 

"Didn't know you were walking on the side of the angels."--Sabretooth 

*** 
10:20 p.m.  
Vagabond Inn, Room 36.  

"I gotta admit, I'm not optimistic either," Doggett said, leaning against the headboard of his bed.  He was still in FBIwear, minus coat and tie, his laptop on the side.  He sighed loudly.  

Reyes was in a chair, minus her jacket and shoes, currently rolling her head and shoulders.  She looked at Carmichael at the foot of the bed, then at Doggett and grinned.  "This is an X-File, John, optimism comes later in the equation.  Well, what've you got on everyone so far?" 

Doggett glanced at Carmichael, who was pulling a notebook out of her purse.  He didn't mind her tagging along, as long as it was just business.  He said, "Looks like Grady's boss knew about his past, believed he'd reformed, and says he was a pretty good salesman.  Selling auto parts doesn't bring you into contact with a lotta kids, so I guess he started coaching when their last one left.  That's how he met Margie Grady, then Margie Henderson.  They married a couple years ago, and you know the rest of the story.”  

Reyes knew this was familiar territory for him, and probably for Carmichael.  No surprises.  "And Margie?" 

"Like she said, works as a Payless Shoes manager, inherited her house, has been a foster parent for quite a few years, nothing like this ever happened to her before.”  He looked at Carmichael, who looked up from her notebook.  "Listen, we're after a serial killer who's got a thing against sex offenders.  Grady was just the latest victim, so to speak.”  

Carmichael nodded.  "If we find Katie alive, she could be a witness to catching this guy and putting him away.  Don't worry, I may be an cubicle dweller now, but I've served with the Navy.”  Her mouth twisted up.  "Wanna see my tattoos?" 

Doggett shook his head, hoping that wasn't just a show of bravado.  "What can you tell us about the kids?" 

Carmichael's clear eyes were sober as she answered matter-of-factly, "Nothing unusual, as far as foster kids go.  Stacy's been in a number of foster homes, being part Vietnamese with broken legs doesn't get you high up on the adoption lists.  Both parents are still doing time for child abuse and neglect, and the last foster family also beat up on her.  Katie's mom, originally from Argentina, died a couple years back.  Her only relative stateside is one Dr. Robert Thompson, too old and ill to take care of her, so she's floating in the foster system with possible adoption.  Aside from screaming nightmares, she was--is--pretty normal.”  

Reyes pursed her lips, her fingers involuntarily reaching for a cigarette.  Way too familiar territory.  Doggett's cell phone rang, and as he got up from the bed to answer it, he squeezed Carmichael's arm in reassurance.  She gave him a small smile, and he smiled back.  

___________________________________ 

"Like an angel with no wings."--DC Talk 

*** 

With Doggett off the bed, Carmichael looked at Reyes.  "So what are the X-Files? Some new category for serial killers?" 

"No," Reyes shook her head, "we investigate cases dealing with the paranormal, unexplainable, or," she glanced at her partner, "downright weird.”  She smiled at Carmichael.  "What brought us to this case, other than a link to a documented serial killer, was a killer angel.”  

Carmichael's blue eyes widened.  "You're serious?" 

"Stacy, before her current state, described Grady's killer as an angel with flashing lights," Reyes answered.  "For the most part, angels are seen as messengers, protectors, guides, singers, even warriors.  The Angel of Death, hm, there's up to six or twelve of them, depending which text you read.  In the Caballa, the Angel of Death is supposed to be so beautiful that when you look at it, you fall in love so hard and fast that your soul leaves through your eyes.  In Falasha lore, Suriel was the angel of healing and death.  According to Islamic lore, the Angel of Death, or Malaku 'l-Maut, has huge wings covered in eyes, that with every death, one of its eyes closes for a moment.  Azrael, the Arabic version, erases our lives by erasing our name on a tablet.  Mairya, male or female, was also a tempter as well as the angel of death in Zoroastrianism.  In the Talmud, Sammael was full of eyes, and stood at the head of the sick person's bed with a drop of poison at the edge of its pointed sword.  Saadiah Gaon believed that it appeared in the form of a yellowish flame, its eyes full of blue fire, holding a sword drawn toward the next intended soul.  In Christian theology, the benevolent Michael leads souls of the faithful into the eternal light.  And there is the Mosaic Angel of Death, who took the lives of Egypt's firstborn, passing over the Hebrews because of the lamb's sacrificial blood.”  She smiled at Carmichael's expression.  "I'm not sure what kind of angel we're dealing with, if in fact it is, but it knows what it's after, passing over innocents in favor of wiping out the guilty.”  

"From my experience, people are people, which is scary enough," Carmichael said, her youthful face revealing encounters of the worst kind.  "Doesn't matter if you call them angels or monsters.  Grady was a monster, but Margie is definitely a saint in my book.”  

Reyes looked at her with fresh eyes, trying to sense what lay beneath.  "What would you consider Grady's killer?" 

Carmichael was nonplussed.  "Good question," her neutral voice said, but Reyes was almost shocked to feel something like compassion and horror behind the answer.  Somehow, Carmichael was linked to the killer, but...not quite...and she doubted her feelings.  Maybe Carmichael, due to the nature of her job, didn't blame this particular killer's motives.  She was sure Doggett felt the same way.  

"Sorry to interrupt your chitchat," Doggett said before she could pursue her thoughts, "but we got a suspect.  Name's Richard Summers, seen giving a would-be rapist shock treatment and kung fu.  He's in Bingham, New York.  You ladies up for a plane ride?" 

Reyes nodded and left to get her still-packed duffel bag in the next room.  As she left, she heard Carmichael ask, "Agent Doggett, does she always have interesting theories?" She smiled when she heard him say, "If she didn't, that wouldn't be Monica.”  

____________________________________ 

July 10 
1:20 a.m.  
Bingham Police Station.  

Walking down a well-lit hallway, Detective Sam Prado told them, "Summer's a martial arts teacher for kids and senior citizens.  No family, his only daughter was raped and murdered at four years old and that split the family up.”  He turned back to look at the trio.  "You should really see the gear we found on him.”  

He opened a door marked "Evidence" Authorized Personnel Only" and ushered them in.  Propped up on a table were insulated gloves with brass knuckle rings, wired through an insulated jacket and battery pack.  "Good thing he took it off himself, we woulda had a helluva time if he didn't surrender quietly.”  He smiled and shook his head at the gear, then led everyone out of the room.  

"Can we see the victim?" Doggett asked.  

The detective smiled, and Reyes was reminded of her cousin.  Both were were wiry, with large dark eyes and ready to smile.  "Which one? Five-year-old Annie Lu, or forty-two-year-old Ben Sargent?" 

Doggett looked at the women, then said, "I'll take Sargent, they'll take Annie, and we'll all talk to Summers afterward.”  

Det. Prado led them down another hallway and escorted Doggett to a holding room with a tall, confident-looking man in an orange suit.  "Any problems, the guard is right there," the detective pointed to a large uniformed woman.  Doggett nodded.  

"This way, ladies," and he led Reyes and Carmichael to another room, this one filled with a small family.  "They're from Hong Kong, the oldest daughter, Maggie, will translate.”  The detective nodded at a girl in a bright red and pink top and bellbottoms.  The mother was holding a smaller girl in braids and jumper, and Reyes felt her heart break.  

____________________________________ 

An hour later.  

Reyes felt like she was missing something.  Annie had been through a traumatizing experience, but she was alive and made no mention of either a killer angel or the missing Katie.  She let Carmichael do the questioning, since it was more her bag, and only spoke to comfort the family and refer them to the local counselors.  Disappointed, she and Carmichael made their way towards Sargent's holding room.  

In front of Room 12, the guard waited impassively.  Reyes walked up to her, and without knowing why, pulled out Katie's picture.  "Have you seen this girl?" 

The woman looked at her curiously.  "She got anything to do with the jerk in there?" she pointed to the door.  

Reyes shook her head.  "At least, I don't think so.”  

The guard's eyes widened in surprise.  "Damn, that's Katy, um, Katy Anderson.  Geez, that's a pretty old picture, she's gotta be, what, a year or two older than me.”  

Reyes hid her surprise as she asked, "Where and when did you see her?" She ignored the disbelieving looks Carmichael was giving her.  When she followed her gut, she usually found something worthwhile.  

"Well, I musta been six or seven.  Lived in New York City with my uncle's family.  Some bad $hit happened then," she looked purposefully blank, "and then Katy ran off.  My uncle got killed sometime after, so I got adopted by a family out here.”  Her mouth twisted upward.  "Damn, Katy.  Something happen to her?" 

"Yeah, we're looking for her.”  Reyes, her mind whirling, knocked on the door.  "John, let's talk to Summers.”  

Doggett came out, looking grimly triumphant.  "Guy's cryin' for a lawyer.”  He looked at the guard, his mouth a thin grin.  "Maybe you should get him one.”  

"Yeah, sure," the guard answered.  Her hand on the doorknob, she turned to Reyes.  "Hey, nice talkin' to you.  When you see her, tell her Rosa Bright's doin' ok.”  Reyes grinned back at her.  

"What was that about?" Doggett asked as they headed down the hallway to the interrogation room.  Reyes debated whether or not she should tell him before or after.  With Carmichael as an extra skeptic, she opted for after.  

"Let's talk with Summers first, the other thing can wait," she smiled.  

____________________________________ 

Do not forget to entertain strangers, for by so doing some people have entertained angels without knowing it.  --Hebrews 13:2 

*** 

Paulette's.  
Somewhere off I-440, Tennessee.  

"Hey, you can't sleep under there!" a stout old woman holding a mop peered under the table.  Usually people slept in the chairs, in the restroom, or in back of the stop, but this girl was curled under the formica table between the red naugahyde seats.  "C'mon, up and out.”  She never could decide whether to laugh or scold in these situations, but invariably chose scold, especially with her back complaining again.  
The girl slowly got out, her hazel eyes full of distrust.  Paulette clucked her tongue.  Eight to ten years old, long coppery brown hair, dirty, probably hungry.  "What's your name?" The girl stared at her.  "Listen, me and my husband own this place and the table you slept under.  Least you can do is let me know who's boarding here.  I'm Paulette.”  She stared back at the girl, eyebrows raised.  

The girl continued staring, then asked, "Boarding?" 

"You think I'll have you sleeping under the table like a lush?" Paulette snorted, then hollered past the girl, "Ken, is the guest room clear?" 

An old Chinese man with close-cropped hair shuffled into the dining area.  "Eh? Guest room?" He noticed the girl, then added, "Oh yah, no worry.”  

"Good.”  She smiled suddenly at the girl.  "With rest, food, and a little work, I'm sure you can get to where you're going.”  She shook her head at the girl's expression.  "All you have to do is a little bus work, wipe tables, clean up some...I usually charge for the guest room, but you don't look like the spendy type.”  

Ken noticed the girl's eyes were casing them, nervously.  "Eh, Paulette, she ok?" 

Paulette shook her head.  "Honey, we won't bite.  But you do need food, and sleep, and some soap.”  She stared at the girl harder.  "I don't care what name you give us, I can't stand calling people 'hey you' or 'girl', all right?" 

The girl continued staring, then made up her mind.  "Anna.”  
___________________________________ 

Bingham Police Station.  

Doggett, Reyes, Carmichael and Det.  Prado discussed the Summers interrogation.  They didn't find anything useful, other than that he was a copycat vigilante, was too young to have perpetrated some of the killings, this was only his second successful attack, had never been outside of New York, and Bingham was his "turf, and no kids are gonna get hurt on my watch.”  The phone rang and Prado grabbed, then said, "Agent Doggett, it's for you.”  

Doggett, curious, took it.  He didn't recall giving anyone else the heads up on their whereabouts.  "Doggett.”  

A computer-generated voice said, "Agent Doggett, this line is not secure.  Call us back on a payphone.  Please, no names.”  

He blinked at the "us," then realization and a sinking feeling hit him.  He kept his voice steady, "Ok, sure.  Talk to you later.”  

In a phone booth filled with graffiti and posters, Doggett continued the conversation.  "What the hell is this about?" 

"You're being bugged.  This case is more than just a serial killer and a missing girl, you got Echelon on your ass," the bland voice said.  

"Who's Echelon?" Doggett stared at the phone as if the Lone Gunmen could see him.  

"It's a global spy system developed by the NSA that picks up key words and phrases, even voice recognition, so you've got no privacy or control.  Like that movie, ‘Enemy of the State’? For now, we're masking both ends of this conversation.  It's on you and your partner's cel phones and laptops.  Check for external bugs, flush 'em and give us a few hours to get Eshy off your tail.  We'll call you when we're done.”  The phone went dead.  

He hated when they did that.  He hung up the phone, then looked at it in disbelief.  Echelon.  Those guys are too paranoid.  His forehead wrinkled with the next thought.  How did they know we're bugged? His blue eyes iced over when he realized what that meant.  He would kick their asses, but not just yet.  

He left the phone booth with Superman-like speed.  He had to talk to Monica, but away from Carmichael.  No sense getting everyone worked up.  He didn't notice the tracking device in his coat, but in about an hour he would, and it would join the other devices down the toilet.  
At this point, all he knew was that he definitely needed that black oil the local PD called coffee.  
___________________________________ 

5:11 a.m.  
Dew Drop Inn, Room 5.  

Reyes tilted her head at her duffel bag on the hotel bed.  The question of whether or not to unpack came to mind, and she pursed her lips in thought.  Carmichael was already unloading her neat little suitcase in such a rapid, precise manner, Reyes believed she could win an unpacking Olympic race, if there was one.  She looked at Reyes ruefully.  "Would you mind if I took a nice long bath? Or just a shower?" she asked, running a hand through her short blonde hair.  "Scenes like that make me want to shed my skin.”  

"Take your time.  I'm dying for a cigarette break myself," Reyes smiled guiltily.  She grabbed her purse and laptop.  "I'll be dumping ash on my keyboard if you need me.”  Carmichael shook her head and headed for the bathroom, and Reyes left the room.  

Outside, Reyes inhaled nicotine and stared at the sky, the stars disappearing with the violet night, dawn already spilling over with its light blues, pinks and oranges.  She breathed deeply and closed her eyes.  She could hear him banging around in his room, literally.  A slow smile spread across her face as she indulged herself in her "bad habit," then her eyes shot open as a hotel door suddenly slammed open.  What the hell? she thought, then she saw John's face.  

"Monica, get in here," he said, obviously pissed at someone.  With that icy glare and clenched jaw, she was glad it wasn't her.  

Inside, she stared at the room turned upside down and thoroughly trashed, which was very unlike her partner.  "Having a party without me?" and frowned when he took her cell phone and proceeded to disassemble it, sitting on a miraculously empty chair.  "John?" 

His head down, his fingers twirled the small screwdriver expertly as he spoke.  "We're bein' bugged.  Were, actually, but the three stooges gave me a heads up.  I dunno why we would be, but they said they'd clean out the Echelon spy system or something and give us a call when they're done.  Should be a couple hours.”  He looked up, his face apologetic.  "Sorry, didn't wanna take any chances," he held up the screwdriver and a couple of cell phone parts.  "So, what was the other thing you wanted to tell me?" 

Reyes was a bit disappointed that he sprung something on her first, but figured with the X-Files, she should get used to surprises.  "The guard recognized Katie.”  

"Yeah?" he was noncommittal as he was opening up her laptop.  

"Yeah, she called her Katy Anderson, who lived in New York City about twenty years ago.”  She cleared a space off the bed, noting with some amusement that although his clothes were lying inside out on the bed, she saw none of his underwear.  

"Maybe a relation or somethin'," he said, wondering where this was going.  He handed her back a reassembled phone.  

She smiled in thanks, then shook it.  No loose parts.  "Or maybe not.  Maybe we could ask the Gunmen if they have anything about this Katy Anderson.”  And if there's just one Katie, she thought, then dismissed it with, This can't be more killer clones, can it? If this is another set of Eves, I'm calling the sanitarium.  Unless they can self-replicate like gremlins, and chuckled at the thought.  

"What's so funny?" Doggett asked, half smiling himself.  

"Just more crazy theories," she smiled at him.  "So, any ideas on who was spying on us, or will we have to wait for that phone call like a high school crush?" 

Doggett made a face like he ate year-old freezer leftovers.  "I never wanna think of them that way," he shook his head vehemently.  "Nah, no ideas.  Hey, how about Carmichael? You trust her?" 

Doggett's cell phone rang, and they both stared at it.  
____________________________________ 

"Hello?" Doggett answered, frowning, his blue eyes narrowed.  

"Hey dude, it's just us.  We rerouted some stuff, so they think this is a chatroom for ‘Ghost in the Shell’ fans.  Check out your laptop," the voice at the other end said.  Doggett flipped open his laptop and checked in.  "We got something juicy," Frohike said onscreen.  "Hi, Monica," he waved, and she waved back.  Doggett just shook his head and turned off his phone.  

Langly, wearing a black t-shirt with "NO INNOCENT VICTIM" in white block letters and a judgment scale, pointed to a picture of Katie Miller.  "Check this out.  When I started searching past her foster records, the information disappeared.”  

"Disappeared?" Reyes' mouth quirked up.  

"Yeah, like there's some kinda virus that wipes it out when you touch it--I'm gonna have fun tracking it down," Langly said grimly.  

"Well, could you look up a Katy Anderson? She lived in New York City about twenty years ago, and could be a relation to Katie.  A guard here, Rosa Bright, recognized her picture, but not her name or age.”  

"Anything for a lovely lady," Frohike replied, attempting a smooth, flirty look.  Langly just rolled his eyes.  

Doggett restrained his impulse to join Langly and asked, "What about her relative, Dr. Robert Thompson?" 

Byers stepped into view.  "Dr. Thompson is a recluse, a visionary in artificical intelligence and robotics," Byers replied.  His expression grew more animated as he added, "He branched out into bionic prosthetics, synthetic body organs, and was linked to a few medical R&Ds in the early 80's, then dropped out of sight.  Personally, his wife Bernardette died in a car crash early in their marriage.  Their only child, Kristin, was abducted at age 8, found molested and dead a couple months later.  Her kidnapper, George Trudy, walked free due to lack of evidence.  Dr. Thompson, as far as we know, still lives in Bayview, California.”  

Doggett's eyes narrowed, thinking of how many times he'd seen that happen.  "So his only daughter died, how is Katie related to Thompson?" his forehead wrinkled in mild confusion.  

"Look at this," Byers pointed at the screen, "this is the late Kristin Angela Esperanza Thompson.”  And Katie Miller's smiling face beamed back at them, with hazel eyes and coppery brown braids, in a softball uniform holding a bat, in a slightly faded and discolored photo.  

Reyes' and Doggett's eyes widened as they leaned closer to the monitor.  "This is a joke, right?" Doggett said.  "Some kinda computer-generated hoax.”  He frowned at the picture.  

Insulted, Frohike said, "Hey, we were as surprised as you.  I dunno about you, but it looks like the good doctor made himself another daughter.”  Wistfully, he added, "Wish he made her older.”  

Reyes snorted.  "How does this tie in with the killer guardian angel?" 

"According to the autopsy reports," Byers replied, "the burns and bruises are consistent with someone wearing arm-length gloves shooting off massive AC volts and using almost superhuman strength.  However, one would have to be a midget or dwarf to hit where the killer did.”  He looked at Doggett.  "Or child sized.”  

"You've got to be kidding," Doggett said, not bothering to disguise his anger and disbelief.  

Reyes, her brown eyes alight, said, "No, this makes sense.  Dr. Thompson, angry at the system and armed with his experience and intelligence, created the perfect weapon against sex offenders.  A robot, disguised as a child, would be able to kill with electrocution and lethal force.  No one would question it.”  She turned to her partner, "And Stacy, seeing her glowing with electricity, wouldn't recognize her and think she was an angel.”  

Doggett recognized the ring of conviction in her voice and what he considered mild insanity in her eyes.  "I liked it better when we were just chasing shape-changing aliens," he sighed.  

Smiling, Reyes said, "Cheer up, she could turn out to be one.”  Just to see the look on his face, she added, "Or it could be a genetically engineered Eve, a reincarnated psycho killer, a vengeful apparition, a bonafide angel of death...”  

Doggett didn't disappoint her.  "Monica," he said, with an I'll-hurt-you-if-you-keep-going tone.  He glared at the Lone Gunmen.  "Don't encourage her.”  

"Hey," Frohike held up his hands, "we just give you the info, and killer android is where it's pointing.”  

Reyes, unmindful of any dagger-eyes her partner was throwing, said, "See if she's got any other names, where else she's lived, if this sort of thing has happened where she's been.  And maybe it won't disappear on you.”  She grinned at Langly, who made a face and started working on another computer.  

He was back in X-Files territory, dammit.  His mouth a very thin line, Doggett snapped, "I just wanna know where she is right now, if she's still alive.”  
__________________________________ 

8:21 a.m.  
Somewhere on the border of Texarkana, TX and AK.  

Florrie Denyes and her passenger sang along loudly with the crackling radio.  She grinned, remembering how Paulette bullied her into a small favor.  Heh, "small" is one thing, but driving a kid all the way to California is another.  She made Paulette promise never to tell anyone about this, that she was still the toughest hardass on the road & she kept her perfect record of no hitchhikers.  

A row of Humvees and a large trailer blocking the road made her stomp on the brakes, forcing her sixteen-wheeler to groan and squeal.  "What the hell?" Florrie wondered.  She turned to the girl in the red hooded jacket.  "Just sit tight, be polite.  Just a bump in the road, Annie.”  

The girl nodded, her hazel eyes big as a black-uniformed troop swarmed the truck.  Her heart was pounding, and as she turned to look out the window, she tugged on her braids nervously.  

"Ma'am, could we see some ID?" a gray-haired, middle-aged man asked.  Florrie fished out her licenses, but the man merely tossed them to the ground, then opened the door and grabbed her.  The girl heard them shuffling to the back of her truck, and shuddered.  

Two other men grabbed the girl and carried her to the back of their own large trailer.  "Dammit, her eyes are glowing," one of them said as he strapped her to a dentist-like chair connected to what looked like generators and life-support machines.  A needle plunged into her arm, and she thrashed, screaming, "Help! Florrie! Aaaaigh!" 

The last thing she remembered before blacking out was hearing Florrie's own screams and seeing bright flashing lights before they slammed the trailer door shut.  
____________________________________ 

"If men were angels, no government would be necessary.”  --51st Federalist Paper 

*** 

Interstate 440, Tennessee.  

Doggett rubbed his eyes.  He didn't get much sleep, seeing as how he had to calm down Carmichael earlier when she found tracking bugs in her purse and jacket.  Being the gentleman that he was, he offered to stay up and make sure no one else slipped in and put in new bugs.  He only managed to grab a nap on the plane over, and now he squinted against the morning sun, trying to get any additional clues from the car crash.  A few feet away, Carmichael was interviewing the local PD, getting her own angle, and perhaps, he thought, still distrustful of the FBI.  

He turned away from the car, and saw Reyes leaving the ambulance crew to wheel in a zipped black bodybag.  She grimaced before popping in her Nicorette, and reported, "John Stuart Anderson, age 27, businessman based in New Jersey.  According to the medics, he was dead before his car hit the tree.  The trauma and bruises are similar to Grady's and the other victims.  I'm guessing he messed with the wrong girl.”  She noted Doggett's warning look, then said, "According to a background check, he also had a sex offense dropped due to lack of evidence.”  

"Guess we got the evidence," Doggett said, holding up a softball cap, pointing to the logo of Grady's team.  He looked at the ambulance pulling away.  "Too bad this guy ain't talkin'.”  Briskly he said, "She's alive, but where she is now, God only knows.  And whoever's protecting her--" 

"John, is there any sign of a third person in that car?" she interrupted.  

His mouth thinned.  "Cursory check, no.  But she coulda had someone with her, the same person that took out Grady.”  

"A killer robot that jumps out when she pushes her super-secret watch and saves her from the bad guys," Reyes' mouth quirked.  

"This ain't a B-movie midnight special, Monica.”  His eyes returned to the cap.  

"Actually, that was on the Cartoon Network, but I digress.  Why is it so hard to believe she's a robot?" Her head tilted, curious.  

Just to humor her, he said, "One, because to most folks, she's just a kid, not some doll that walks an' talks.  Two, nobody's seen Katie do any killer kung fu or lightning shows.”  He saw Reyes start to protest, "No, I think Stacy woulda recognized her foster sister, glowing or not.  Three, we're lookin' for a scared, lost girl with multiple sexual traumas, not a killing machine.  That enough for you?" His eyes flashed an ice blue, and Reyes remembered why she called him Iceman.  

"We're looking for Katie, that much at least we agree on.  So if you're a runaway, just escaped a car crash, where would you go?" Their eyes found the truck stop not a hundred yards away.  
__________________________________ 

"If thou beest born to strange sights, 
Things invisible to see...”  --John Donne 

*** 

2:02 p.m.  
Phoenix, Arizona.  

A girl with a red hooded jacket calmly walks away from an overturned convoy in an embankment.  She doesn't notice the wrecked vehicles or the broken, bloody, black-uniformed bodies draped on them.  She shoves a wad of bills into her pocket, an unearthly bluish glow leaving her eyes.  

Suddenly, she looks around her, fear plainly on her face.  She runs to the road, her hood falling down and her coppery brown braids flying out.  A whimper escapes, and she crumples on the edge of the embankment.  "What's happening to me, God?" She looks down and sees blood staining her red jacket.  She tears off the jacket, tossing it toward the wreck scene.  

About an hour later of walking, she sees a building with buses and cars parked in front.  She prays the money she found in her pocket is enough.  

Behind a ticket counter, a mildly frustrated clerk is relieved to find the next customer is only a girl.  Hopefully she knows where she's going and doesn't want anything complicated.  His prayers are answered.  

"Can I get a ride to Bayview, California?" Her hazel eyes are wide, her face a little sunburnt.  He notices her braids are lank and her green and white t-shirt hasn't seen laundry detergent in a couple of days, but doesn't mention it.  He types rapidly and the data appears onscreen with no problems.  This is gonna be a good day.  

"Sure, one-way, one stop in Los Angeles.  That'll be $150.  Cash, credit, or check?" The words roll off his tongue, even as he debates whether or not to complete the transaction.  He knows the company's policy on runaways, but this girl looks like she's left hell and running towards heaven.  

"Cash.”  She pulls out a wad of bills and gives most of it to the clerk.  
He mentally shakes his head, clearing it of unwanted poetry.  He counts out the money, gives her a ticket and change, asks her, "Do you have any luggage?" 

He's not surprised when she answers no, and he points her to the proper exit, telling her the bus will be in in an hour.  

_____________________________________ 

FBI Field Office, Memphis.  

It was a scorching hot day, and of course, they put Doggett in the part of the building with iffy AC.  The oily, lukewarm coffee was the only thing keeping him awake, since the lulling summer heat was threatening to knock him out.  Doggett stared at his laptop monitor, willing his eyes to cooperate.  Onscreen, it read, "Hey Dogbert (he growled inwardly), who says we don't deliver? The thing that disappeared on me was this name, Katie Roberts, showing her as living in Cleveland, Ohio.  A couple years before that, she was Angela Johnson in Mobile, Alabama, and thanks to image ID, she's also been Anna Miles in Winchester, West Virginia, Espie Smith in Jacksonville, Florida, and Katy Anderson in New York City, as far as official records go.  Whatever she goes by, she's always run away from her foster home, is always between 8 and 10 yrs old, and somehow was in the same area as those serial murders.”  Great, he thought, we'll be able to convict a little girl on several counts of murder, over a twenty year period.  Perfect.  

He continued reading.  "By the way, we contacted Dr. Thompson, who sent us some really interesting stuff that we're deciphering.  Too bad none of us can ask him about it, he was found dead in his home couple hours later, burnt to a crisp from an "accidental fire".  Watch your back.”  He was thankful Carmichael was at the YMCA, getting in her "daily workout", he'd hate to tell her she was right to be paranoid hangin' around with them.  No use dragging a civilian along to get shot at, maybe they should just leave her here until they find Katie...then what? 

He looked up to see Reyes walk in with a couple of brown bags.  "Monica, you look too perky for someone dressed in black," Doggett said, wiping sweat from his forehead.  He took the bag offered and scowled at her sudden grin.  He knew he was acting lousy, hot and tired, but took it out on the desk fan rather than apologize.  

She opened her own bag decorated with happy cartoonish characters.  "Paulette said yours was on the house, finding Katie and Florrie's killer is payment enough for her.”  She munched on a cheeseburger, then said, "Y'know, a Little League team was in front of me at McDonald's.  Their coach was so proud, he paid for everyone's lunch, including the assistant coaches...That could have been Grady, Stacie, and Katie.  They should be enjoying another win on a gorgeous summer day.”  She brushed a lock of dark hair back and took another bite.  

Doggett's face softened.  "I know what you mean.”  He turned his laptop over to her.  "Something you should see here.”  She smiled and took it, while he wiggled the deskfan cord.  Another small miracle, it worked again.  

As the artificial breeze cooled the room, Doggett's forehead furrowed in thought.  "Something ain't right about the way we found Florrie," he said, putting down his sandwich.  "Florrie didn't match the other victims bein' a sex offender, I think it was supposed to look like the others.”  He looked down.  "They did a damn good job, but wrong victim.  Monica, who the hell did we piss off?" 

Just then, the phone rang.  
_____________________________________ 

Reyes glanced at Doggett as he picked up the phone.  Her eyes went back to the screen when he muttered affirmatively and began writing something down.  When he hung up, he said, "Guy in Phoenix said she was heading for Bayview, California.  Get an APB out in that area and fax the local agents her picture.”  Another thought hit him.  "We gotta get Carmichael.”  

She finished off her cheeseburger and stuck a toy in her purse.  "John, they should approach her with caution.  No matter who killed Florrie, they might also take out an agent.”  

"No problem," he said, and they headed out towards the car.  "We'll just say that as a witness to a crime, her life may be in danger, no spooking her or whoever is following her.  The killer may consider himself a vigilante or self-appointed guardian.”  

"Something like that," Reyes agreed, remembering the "killer guardian angel" phrase that drew her to this case.  Buckling in, Reyes' brown eyes were thoughtful as she gazed out the window.  "Dr. Thompson started out with the same motivation you did getting into the FBI, but with his training and his heart...he created a killing machine.”  Her lips pursed with thought.  "I wonder if he loved her," she said softly.  

"Who?" Doggett wasn't entirely sure if this was another crazy question or just a rhetorical one--what the hell, with Monica, they were one and the same.  

"Dr. Thompson.  I wonder if he loved Katie, as a daughter, or granddaugher, not just the robot.  I wonder if Katie loves him.”  

Truth to tell, Doggett wasn't sure he wanted to talk about the doctor, whose pain mirrored his own.  Selfishly, he was glad Thompson was dead so he didn't have to deal with this particular can of worms.  And could a man who created a monster truly love it? And vice versa? He set his jaw, banishing unwanted thoughts, and focused on the road towards the YMCA.  "We'll find out soon enough.”  
_____________________________________ 

The light at the end of the tunnel was so bright, I thought I was already there.--Angel 

*** 

11 p.m.  
227 Dolores Rd.  
Bayview, California.  

Her coppery brown hair neatly braided, Katie walks through a nice, well-kept suburban neighborhood.  She pushes a couple boards in a faded-white picket fence and walks through the backyard of what used to be a modest, one-story house.  Now it's just a gray, water-stained wreck, and she pushes at the backdoor in disbelief.  "No," she moans, as the door refuses to budge.  She peers through a shattered window and notices already looters have taken away the TV and some furniture.  

Then it hits her.  She runs to a neighbor's house, pounding on the door and doorbell.  "Help! Somebody! Please! Where's my granpa? Hello?" 

After a few minutes, a heavyset Polynesian woman leaning on a cane opens the door to find a tear-stained Katie.  Her motherly instincts take over as she embraces the child, "Hey, hey, don' cry.  Where's your mommy an' daddy?" 

"They died a long time ago," Katie sniffled, "but my granpa, he lived in that burned house.  Where is he?" Her voice shook with panic that was mirrored in her hazel eyes.  

The woman's tired eyes widened with shock.  "Oh, you poor baby, I'm so sorry...," and began to rock the girl.  Her lips silently murmured a prayer on Katie's behalf, her own eyes welling with tears.  

Slowly, Katie understood, and her body shook with sobs.  "No, no," she gasped, not caring if her nose was running on this perfect stranger, "no....”  
_____________________________________ 

For he will command his angels concerning you to guard you in all your ways.--Psalm 91:11 

*** 

11:53 p.m.  
Light of Hope Children's Services.  
Bayview, California.  

Katie is standing in a colorful room, bouncing a ball against the wall with one hand and catching it with the other.  Her favorite targets are a large purple dragon and a granny-dressed wolf.  A hand shoots out to intercept the last toss.  It belongs to the director, Patti Herling, a youthful part-Asian woman.  Smiling, she said, "Now what did I say about throwing things in here.”  

Lowering her eyes, Katie said, "Sorry.”  

"Katie, these people want to talk to you.”  She gestured to each, "This is Agent Doggett and this is Agent Reyes.  And tomorrow, Ms. Carmichael is going to take you home, ok?" 

Doggett's eyes softened seeing Katie's panic, and Reyes smiled gently.  "Hey, it's ok, we're just gonna ask you a few questions and you can go back to sleep.  All right?" Reyes said, and was a little more relieved when Katie nodded and tried to smile back.  

Herling, satisfied, said, "Just let me know when you're done.  We have to get some paperwork squared away," and she led Carmichael out of the room.  

Katie sat down in a chair near the window, Doggett sat near the door, and Reyes took the chair facing Katie.  All she could see was a nervous little girl, with brown braids, large hazel eyes.  Reyes' mouth perked upward.  "You can call me Monica," she said, in a friendly tone.  
"Like ‘Touched by an Angel’.”   Katie was no less nervous, but at least she could respond in sentences.  

She could see Doggett grinning and resisted throwing Katie's ball at him.  "Yeah, like that.”  

"That used to be my granpa's favorite show.  Stacy's, too.”  Her voice betrayed homesickness, loneliness, and to Reyes' mild shock, love.  Katie bit her lip, looking down.  

"You miss Stacy?" Reyes was a little unnerved to see Katie behaving like any runaway girl, and at her own responses, as if the girl were really human and those were really her fears and emotions.  

"Yeah, she was nice.  She didn't mind sharing her room or stuff.”  

"Why did you run away, if you had a friend?" Reyes leaned slightly forward.  Katie looked out the window into the night, her right leg swinging.  "Katie?" 

Katie mumbled.  

"What?" Reyes leaned closer and Katie flinched.  Startled, Reyes leaned back.  "I'm sorry, what did you say?" 

Softly, Katie said, "My nightmare came true.”  
_____________________________________ 

Concerned and more than a little curious, Reyes asked, "What's that?" 

Scared, desperate, lonely, that's what Reyes felt coming off this girl who wasn't a girl.  "I told Ms. Herling already.”  She bit her bottom lip hard to keep from crying, but it didn't stop the tears from welling up, so she looked away.  "I miss my granpa.”  

Doggett walked over to Reyes' side and knelt beside her, facing Katie.  "I'm sorry about your granpa," he said, his voice gentle and concerned, "but we need to know what happened.”  

Katie saw a similar pain in his eyes, but didn't feel like saying anything just yet.  Focusing on the streetlights outside, she stared for a while.  "He did bad things, and he wouldn't stop.  He said nobody would believe me.  Then the Angel of Death took him away.”  

"The Angel of Death?" Reyes asked softly.  She took in Katie's profile, her trembling lips and troubled eyes, and knew Katie had no idea what she really was.  She honestly wondered what she believed an angel of death was.  

"That's what Granpa called it.  He said if the bad thing ever happened to me, the Angel of Death would come.  And it did.”  She turned to them.  "I didn't want it to come! But I was so scared, and he wouldn't stop...," she broke off.  

Doggett looked at Katie's eyes and her guilt, fear, and loneliness.  He couldn't believe he was talking to a robot.  "Katie, what Mr. Grady did to you and Stacy was a bad thing, and he did deserve punishment, but not like that.  We need your help figuring out who this angel is.  Can you help us?" 

Katie looked at him, in wonder and stubbornness.  "You don't believe me.  You think it's a person.”  

"Katie, this 'angel'," he couldn't help the skepticism in his voice, "killed not only Mr. Grady, but a few other people, too.  You can help us nail this guy.  What if he killed some innocent person?" He looked intently at her, his forehead wrinkled.  

She stared at him, and to his surprise, there was also pity on her face.  "Mister, it's an angel.  Angels don't kill good guys.”  
___________________________________ 

Shaking his head, Doggett stood up and walked out the door.  A few moments later, he came back with Herling, who said, "All right, Katie, it's way past your bedtime.  Come on.”  When they left, Doggett looked at his partner.  

"I think she's got some kind of personality disorder, distancing herself from the events as part of her programming," Reyes started.  She braced herself for the sigh, and wasn't disappointed to hear it.  

"You still think she's some kinda robot, don't you?" He crossed his arms and leaned against a wall, looking at her with mild amusement and doubt.  

Reyes shook her head.  "I *know* she is.  At the same time, she's capable of feelings, of being very human.  I felt it.”  

"Here we go again with the feelings!" Doggett was exasperated.  "Look, I think she's a pretty tough kid, she survived a terrible trauma and traveled cross-country, meeting America's best and worst.  She's just reacting with the typical behavior of a molested child.  I wouldn't blame her for not coming totally clean with everything, she probably doesn't trust adults more'n she can throw 'em.”  More than chasing down boogeymen, he hated this part of the job--trying to reason with your insane partner.  Deep down, he knew going back to the old grind wouldn't be the same, but he still wished "real" and "normal" were part of the explanation.  

"John," Reyes said patiently, "you know about Dr. Thompson's daughter, as well as his expertise in AI and robotics, and what's happened in the vicinity of wherever this girl happens to be--for the last twenty years.  You *know*, John.”  Her gaze never wavered from his, and she touched his shoulder.  

He looked down at her hand, then pushed himself off the wall.  "C'mon, let's get Carmichael and get to that hotel.  I'm dyin' for some sleep," he said, heading out the door.  
_____________________________________ 

darkness hit the ground like a fallen satellite 
he wrestled until morning with human souls and dark angels--Kevin Max 

*** 

1:17 a.m.  
Motel 16, Room 4.  

Doggett stared at the file and laptop.  Katie was just a girl, he should be relieved that she was going home to Mrs. Grady in the morning with Carmichael, case closed.  But something didn't sit right with him.  Too many coincidences with science fiction explanations were cropping up, and talking with Katie brought up more questions than answers.  Why did Thompson tell her about an angel, but not that she was a robot, if he followed Reyes' theory.  He supposed that would make it hard for her to act normal if she was aware she was a killer, but if she was a robot, why would she care? And who was behind Echelon and tracking bugs snooping on them? He was pretty sure that the unknown agency or organization wouldn't give up on thwarting their investigation, he knew bugs were just one line of surveillance.  Is this just about Katie, or something more, is she part of something larger than robots and angels...his mind was going in circles, and he stopped.  I'm getting to be like Monica and the Gunmen, letting crazy theories get to me.  
His cell phone rang, and he jumped, relieved no one saw him startled.  
"Doggett," he answered gruffly.  

"Sorry to bug you," the caller began, then stopped.  "Bad choice of words, considering what I'm about to say.”  

Doggett groaned.  "It's not Echelon, is it," he sighed.  

"No, but it's just as bad.  Ever hear of something called Digital Angel?" 

"Just tell me what it is so I can flush it down the toilet.”  Doggett rubbed his eyes.  Sleep was gonna be a long time coming.  

"It's an implantable transceiver that sends and receives data through GPS technology linked with sensor technology, similar to biochip tags on cats and dogs.  It's totally aboveboard, supposed to serve as a monitoring device for senior citizens and kids so they don't stay lost, very PC.  However, it can also be used as something like your Social Security number and credit card, to be scanned like checkout at the store.  Some folks think it's the Mark of the Beast, like in Revelations, but loss of privacy and possible abuse of this technology was enough for us.  For now, practical applications are limited to stray animals and criminals.”  

Doggett looked at the ceiling as if for strength, or understanding.  "And this has to do with me how?" 

"Dude, Katie's got it.  According to what we've decrypted, Thompson implanted a prototype of this Digital Angel decades before there were even rumors about this kind of technology.  It should be on her hand, maybe forehead--did you notice any scars or unusual birthmarks there?" The voice was rather animated, and Doggett wouldn't be surprised to find this case headlining their next edition.  

He debated inwardly for a couple seconds, then said, "Yeah, some kinda scar on her left hand.  I assumed it was from a predatory assailant.  I'm guessing we take it out?" 

"Just don't let her know what it is.  We don't want some doctor freakin' out, much less a kid.  Have it looked at, then removed.  It should be the size of a grain of rice, but definitely like a microchip in appearance.  Careful, though, it's supposed to be monitoring not only pulse, but a number of other factors which the good doctor didn't go into too much detail.  Getting her out of the hospital could be tricky.”  The voice picked up speed and intensity.  "I wish we were there, could you get a photo of it inside her hand?" 

"Sure, yeah," Doggett said placatingly.  These guys...he was surprised they hadn't just shown up at his hotel room, demanding to see Katie and the chip in her hand.  "I'll talk to Carmichael about a checkup or something before she returns her to New Jersey.”  His phone beeped.  "Sorry guys, got another call coming in.  I'll see what I can do, ok?" They hung up before he could hit the button.  Then he picked up the next call.  "Doggett.”  

"Agent Doggett, this is Patti Herling from Light of Hope," she said rapidly in a strained voice.  "Please, could you and your partner come quickly? It's Katie.”  

He sat up straight.  "What about her?" 

She paused, obviously distraught.  "You're not going to believe me, please, it's an emergency.”  
______________________________________ 

Just the bang and the clatter as an angel hits the ground.--U2 
I'd rather be a cyborg than a goddess.--Donna J.  Haraway 

*** 

A few minutes later.  
Light of Hope Children's Services.  

Doggett and Reyes could barely make out the foster center from its neighboring buildings.  Patti Herling ran out to meet them from a parked car.  Her fear and concern were evident despite the dimly lit street.  

"What's wrong with Katie?" Doggett asked, wondering why she didn't explain over the phone.  His eyes strained to see, not only in the darkness, but also the situation.  

Herling began to weep as she told them, "Ms. Carmichael apparently decided to take Katie earlier than planned, according to her roommates.  As they struggled, the kids noticed that Carmichael had some kind of glowing, electrical weapon, they could hear and feel the static.  Katie escaped, and now they're up on the roof.  I got the staff and kids to another safe place, but…," she stared at them in wonder.  "See those lightning sparks? That's Katie fighting Carmichael up on the roof.”  

Doggett shook his head, then he and Reyes ran to the side of the building and began climbing the rusty emergency ladder.  When they reached the top, they could scarcely believe their eyes.  

Carmichael, dressed in a black, leather-like skintight outfit, her bare right arm glowing, sparking against Katie every time they made contact.  Her eyes glowed blue beneath her short, lanky blonde hair, with a ferocious intensity previously unseen.  She seemed to be more in her element, her moves fast and sure against her opponent.  Doggett realized by the way they were fighting that they had sparred before, judging by the way each parried the other's moves, and by Carmichael's arguing.  

"Your mission is over," she said, slamming Katie down.  Katie didn't reply, but kicked Carmichael down.  Katie was glowing, her own eyes flashing blue, her braided hair waving of its own accord.  She seemed to be operating in her own zone, her face chillingly unemotional in opposition to Carmichael's fiery attacks.  Both she and Carmichael were moving inhumanly fast, throwing punches and kicks that would've taken out an ordinary person minutes ago.  Sparks flew every time Carmichael's right arm made contact with Katie, whereas her outfit seemed to dampen Katie's punches.  One could not only see but also hear their lightning-strong blows, making it a violent and artistic scene John Woo or Luc Besson would salivate over.  

Doggett and Reyes decided it would be wise to remain hidden behind some stray boxes, their guns pointed at the combatants.  "She looks good in black," Doggett noted, his eyes taking in more than just Carmichael's agility and martial arts skills.  

Reyes snorted, "She looked better without that glowing arm.  Too bad you'll never see her tattoos.”  She grinned in the shadows.  

"I got a shot," Doggett said, then fired at the two.  Both spun away instinctively, then continued their fight behind another set of crates.  "Dammit," he said, then followed the lightning sparks and audible blows.  Reyes followed him at a distance.  

Finally, Carmichael had Katie pinned beneath her.  "I should kill you now, all the trouble you caused," she hissed.  "You were meant to be so much more than a weapon," and slammed her right fist against Katie's head.  The girl screamed, "Mairya!" the first sound she made all night, her body jerking convulsively.  "Guess the feds'll take the fall for this one, too," Carmichael smiled.  

Then she felt the warm, hard muzzle of a gun pressed against her head.  "Guess again," Doggett said.  "Why don't you step away from the girl and we'll settle this without any Bruce Lee moves.”  
_____________________________________ 

Carmichael turned so the muzzle was on her forehead.  "No Bruce Lee moves," she agreed, then grabbed the gun with her right hand and Doggett felt at least a few hundred AC volts surging through his body.  He was thrown back by the force, hitting a few stacked wooden pallets on the way down.  She stared in quiet satisfaction, then walked over to kneel beside him.  His eyes widened with panic as he realized he couldn't move, his body still frozen from her electricity, his throat dry.  She held his face in her hands, one gloved, the other bare, and Doggett believed she'd apply a glowing fist to his head.  To his shock, she bent down and kissed him full on the lips, deeply and passionately.  

She walked back to Katie's limp, glowing body and kicked it.  "What a waste," she said, then jumped off the three-story building.  

Reyes, her hands firmly gripped on her gun, ran to the side of the roof.  Amazingly, Carmichael had landed better than a cat and had hailed a cab, riding off into the night.  Her heart pounding, Reyes stared at the cab's rear, trying to make out license plate or even company, but it was no use.  She turned back to the still girl.  She knelt down, her hand reflexively reaching for Katie's pulse, then recoiled when Doggett shouted, "Don't touch her!" 

She walked toward her fallen partner, smiling ruefully.  "So what was it like getting touched by an angel?" she asked, kneeling by Doggett.  

Doggett winced as she helped him up.  "Stopped my heart and took my breath away, just electrifying," he said wryly.  He wiped his lips with the back of his hand.  "Katie's not glowing anymore," he said, leaning on Reyes as they made their way to the small body, which was more than human, less than divine.  
_____________________________________ 

All changed, changed utterly: 
A terrible beauty is born.--"Easter 1916," William Butler Yeats 

After great pain, a formal feeling comes-- 
The Nerves sit ceremonious, like Tombs-- 
The stiff Heart questions was it He, that bore, 
And Yesterday, or Centuries before?--"341," Emily Dickinson 

angelheaded hipsters burning for the ancient heavenly connection to the starry dynamo in the machinery of night--"Howl," Allen Ginsberg 

Anger and tenderness: my selves.  
And now I can believe they breathe in me 
as angels, not polarities.--"Integrity," Adrienne Rich 

But it has no feeling.  As the metal, is hot, it is not, given to love.--"An Agony.  As Now.”  Amiri Baraka 

So when that Angel of the darker Drink 
At last shall find you by the river brink, 
And offering his Cup, invite your Soul 
Forth to your Lips to quaff--you shall not shrink.--"The Rubaiyat of Omar Khayyam," trans.  by Edward FitzGerald 

What candles may be held to speed them all? 
Not in the hands of boys but in their eyes 
Shall shine the holy glimmers of goodbyes.--"Anthem of Doomed Youth," Wilfred Owen 

I saw the angel in the marble and carved until I set him free.--Michaelangelo 

My heart is old it holds my memories 
My body burns a gemlike flame 
Somewhere between the soul and soft machine 
Is where I find myself again.  --"Kyrie Eleison," Mr. Mister 

And in my dream an angel with white wings came to me, smiling.  --Paul Gaugin's posthumous notes 

I see them walking in an air of glory, 
Whose light doth trample on my days....  
Dear, beauteous death! the jewel of the just, 
Shining nowhere but in the dark; 
What mysteries do lie beyond thy dust--"They Are All Gone into the World of Light!" Henry Vaughan 

For seeing life is but a motion of limbs, the beginning whereof is in some principal part within, why may we not say that all automata (engines that move themselves by springs and wheels as doth a watch) have an artificial life? For what is the heart but a spring...--"Leviathan, the Introduction [The Artificial Man]," Thomas Hobbes 

A little while and I will be gone from among you, whither I cannot tell.  From nowhere we came, into nowhere we go.  What is life? It is a flash of a firefly in the night.  --last words of Crowfoot, a Blackfoot Indian Chief 

A world of made 
is not a world of born--pity poor flesh 
and trees,poor stars and stones ,but never this 
fine specimen of hypermagical 
--"[pity this busy monster ,manunkind,]" e.e.cummings 

_______________________________________ 

2:45 a.m.  
July 11.  
Bayview General Hospital.  

After quite a bit of hesitation, Doggett and Reyes took Katie to the hospital.  They were worried that she might display some unusual, well, *things* for a basic checkup, but they needed to make sure she was ok.  Short of sending her back to a psychotic Charlie's Angel, they felt they had no choice, especially with Ms. Herling saying her job, and theirs, was on the line if they were negligent with Katie's health.  So they cleaned Katie up as best they could, and Doggett figured they could remove the biochip while they were at it.  

Doggett noted there weren't too many people waiting in the waiting room, and called Reyes in the car.  Katie was rather self-conscious about how she looked, despite the fact that, after the fight scene she went through, she had no severe bruises or scarring.  That was only one of the things that jarred the director, and worried the agents.  Another was the burn on her temple, what kind of damage Carmichael incurred mentally or physically they had no idea.  Then Doggett heard his name, and he relayed the message.  

Dr. Kobashigawa was a sturdy, smiling man who reminded Doggett of a smalltown clerk: brisk, friendly, and good at making people feel comfortable.  As he shook Doggett's hand, he asked, "I'm sorry, you said there was a girl with head trauma?" 

Doggett was apologetic as he said, "Special Agent John Doggett, yeah, they'll be here shortly.”  

Dr. Kobashigawa's eyebrows rose.  "More than one girl?" 

Doggett's mouth turned up.  "No, just Katie," he said, then heard a commotion in the hallway.  When it came to Reyes, he didn't know whether to laugh or sigh, but he knew enough to stay out of the way.  So he moved quickly to the other end of the office, ignoring the doctor's questioning look.  

"Look, up in the sky! It's a bird! It's a plane! It's--Supergirrrrrllll!!!" Reyes hollered as she entered the doctor's office with Katie "flying" in her arms.  Grinning, she put a smiling Katie on the examining table, and brushed her hair out of her face.  She glanced at Doggett, who opted for sighing.  He could have sworn Katie wanted to be low-profile, but guessed Reyes put her up to this.  Katie's t-shirt with the red & yellow "S" must have given her the idea.  

Dr. Kobashigawa was chuckling as he took out his stethoscope.  "I'm surprised your mom can keep up with you, my wife makes me run after our three kids.”   He was one of those doctors nice enough to warm up the stethoscope before putting it on bare skin.  

"That's why we decided to stick with just one," Reyes said, winking at Katie out of Doggett's sight.  While the doctor was checking her ear, Katie winked back.  Doggett started to protest, but was ignored as the doctor continued his examination.  

"I started with just one, too," Dr. Kobashigawa said, "but God decided it was a good idea to give us more.”   He glanced at the agents, who gave each other a look, then turned his attention to what the checkup was all about.  

"Where'd you get that nasty scar?" the doctor asked, gingerly peeling off the bandage.  

Katie winced, but said, "I don't remember.  Some lady was trying to take me away, and I think she knocked me out.  There was this bright light, and then I woke up and my head hurts.”  She looked at the doctor with large hazel eyes.  "Am I gonna have a Frankenstein scar for the rest of my life?" 

He laughed as he applied ointment, then said, "No, it'll go away eventually.”  He looked surprised when she said, "Man, I thought I'd have a cool scar so my teachers wouldn't give me hard homework.”  He chuckled, then replaced the bandage with a new one.  

"Speaking of scars, what about that one?" Doggett pointed to one on her right hand.  

Dr. Kobashigawa took a closer look at it, then frowned as he rubbed it.  "Something's stuck in there, gimme a minute to get it out.”  He told Katie, "This needle's for anesthetic, but it shouldn't be painful.”  

She shut her eyes tight and said, "Tell me when you're done.”  She didn't see the doctor opening up the scar, or his widened eyes as tweezers revealed a small metallic chip, or Doggett's camera flash (although she heard it and wondered), or Doggett handing the chip to Reyes, or the doctor closing up the wound with biodegradable stitches.  

"All done," the doctor smiled, "and aside from some scars, you're a very healthy and very lucky girl.  You've got two parents who love you, one of them being an FBI agent, a good home, and a Supergirl t-shirt.”  
Doggett pursed his lips, but Katie spared him.  "I'm sorry, doctor," she said, "but they're *both* FBI.  I guess my parents love me from heaven, but I have to go back to my foster home in New Jersey later today.  Monica just wanted me to feel better.”  She smiled, "But I *do* have a Supergirl t-shirt.  That rocks.”  

Then the lights went out.  Katie screamed, Reyes made reassuring noises as she held her, and Doggett knelt beside them.  They all heard the doctor bumping into things, muttering.  "Got it," he said triumphantly, switching on a flashlight.  The lights came back on as he found another one.  "Well, that was one of our famous blackouts, I think life should be pretty boring after this," he said wryly, putting the flashlights on the table.  

"I'd settle for normal," Doggett said wholeheartedly.  And he promised himself that the rest of the trip, if not the rest of Katie's life, would be.  He looked at Reyes and Katie holding each other, though not as tightly as before.  "You two wanna fly outta here, or would you settle for a car ride?" 

Katie was still a little pale, which made Doggett a little nervous.  Then she smiled hopefully at Doggett.  "Fly me?" 

Reyes and Dr. Kobashigawa chuckled as Doggett hefted her up, muttering, "Monica, you must do some serious weights.”  He grinned at Katie, who nodded and put on a superhero face.  Then he strode out the door, yelling, "Look out, evil villains! Iiiit's Supergirrrrrrlll!!!" Reyes shrugged, with a "what could I do?" face, shook hands with the doctor, and followed Doggett's and Katie's whooshing noises.  
__________________________________ 

When people do nice things, Sexton, you should *always* say thank you.  It makes life an awful lot easier.--Didi/Death 

*** 

7:08 p.m.  
Paulette's, off I-440, Tennessee.  

Doggett noticed there were more cars with out-of-state license plates than trucks in the parking lot.  It *was* suppertime, and his stomach wasn't the only one growling.  Reyes was still inside the car, talking with Katie.  The girl was afraid Paulette blamed her for Florrie's death--she was already blaming herself.  Doggett leaned against the back of the car, pulling his sticky white shirt away from his sticky body.  Even though he remembered the scene on the foster services' rooftop as clear as clear, he couldn't stop thinking of Katie as just a girl.  She certainly was giving them enough trouble like one.  He ran his hand through his short brown hair, frowning.  

Finally, Reyes and Katie got out of the car, and Doggett heaved a silent sigh of relief.  They walked in, looking for two familiar faces.  They heard her high, piercing voice before they saw her short, matronly figure, but that was how Paulette was.  

"Young lady, you have some nerve," she said, hands on her hips, eyes narrowed behind bifocals, lips pursed in a pout.  Paulette trotted over to a very white-faced Katie, then hugged her tight.  "Scaring me near to death, you never called, never let me know you were still alive," she patted Katie's back as Katie hiccupped "I'm sorry's" into her chest, hugging her back.  "Shhh, hush now, you're all right, girl," Paulette rocked her a bit, then pulled away, looking into Katie's eyes.  "Honey, what happened to Florrie wasn't your fault.  Look at me, it's terrible, but it's *not* your fault.  Ok?"  Katie nodded, and Paulette was satisfied to return her to the agents.  

Doggett, holding Katie's shoulder, said, "We wanted to stop by and say thank you for your help, ma'am.  Katie's going back to her foster mother tonight.”   Before he could go on, however, his stomach rumbled.  He wasn't a man for blushing, but he did after seeing Paulette's amused look.  

"All right, sit down," she shooed them briskly into red naugahyde seats, "and let me know what you want for supper.  God forbid you should leave without a decent meal--Ke-EN!" she hollered above their heads into the kitchen, "look who's here!" Ken shuffled out, a big smile spread across his face when he saw Katie.  After another hug, Paulette demanded they order since the cook was right in front of them.  

By this time, all heads were turned towards them.  Doggett, a little self-conscious now, asked for a beef sandwich and coffee.  Reyes, after some thought, wanted to try the blue plate special.  And Katie, wiping her nose, wanted chicken&cheese burritos and lemonade and the radio turned up.  They all got what they wanted, and nobody's stomach was grumbling after a half hour.  Contented, they leaned back, watching people come and go in a variety of vehicles.  

A song caught Katie's ear and she started to sing along, "I thought love was only true in fairy tales.”   In her low voice, Reyes joined in, "True for someone else but not for me.”   They continued on, grinning at each other.  Doggett looked at the two of them with a fondness he wouldn't have admitted verbally, shaking his head when Reyes waved for him to join in.  Then Reyes got out of her seat, grabbed Katie's hand, and started dancing with her.  "Then I saw her face, Now I'm a believer!" they yelled gleefully, not caring about what the other patrons thought of their dancing or singing.  Most simply focused on their food; a few actually clapped along.  

Paulette poked her head out of the kitchen to see what the noise was about, then shook her head.  "Young people," she clucked, then saw Doggett sitting and watching the two, just dancing now since they didn't know the next song.  She shuffled over to where he was slouched comfortably, and said abruptly, "You go dance with those two girls, young man.”  She stared down at his surprised glance.  Men were so simple, sometimes.  Paulette shooed him out of his seat, "Go on.”  And because she knew he was a polite young man, he did as he was minded.  She wasn't surprised to see he was actually enjoying himself after a while, and trotted back into the kitchen, allowing herself a small smile.  

Two-stepping, dipping, or twirling each partner, Doggett managed to keep up with Reyes and Katie.  He knew his smile was nowhere near as big as Katie's, but he was pretty sure his heart was.  He knew he should know better, but he was determined to hold on tight to this moment of happiness.  It wasn't every day, or every case, that had a bright spot.  Well, "bright spots" usually meant flashlights or unmarked helicopters, then quickly pushed those unwelcome thoughts out of his head.  

*** 

Always be kind to your elders, you never know if they're your fairy godparent in disguise.--numerous Asian & European tales 
___________________________________ 

...and a little child will lead them.--Isaiah 11:6 

*** 

1:25 a.m.  
July 12.  
Queen's Hospital for Children.  
Shreveport, New Jersey.  

The hospital room's lone occupant hasn't changed position since the first hour she arrived.  Stacy, a small girl with long brown hair and large black, unfocused eyes, is curled up on the bed, clutching a stuffed purple cat.  The door opens and a young male nurse ushers a tired Mrs. Grady inside.  Mrs. Grady, looking ten years older than the last time she was here, says, "Stacy, honey?  A friend is here to see you.”  All Stacy's eyes can see from behind her bangs are the nurse, a man and a woman in suits, and Mrs. Grady.  Suddenly, Katie runs across the room, kneeling beside her friend, eyes welling.  

"Stacy, I'm so sorry.  Please, don't be scared anymore, it's ok.”  She wiped at her eyes, but tried to make like she was only brushing her long bangs out of her face.  

An unused voice creaks between parched lips.  "You're alive," she said, almost in disbelief.  

"Yeah.  I'm sorry you got hurt.  Are we still friends?" Her large hazel eyes worried, she was afraid to get close.  

A beat.  "Yeah.”  Another beat.  "Katie?" 

"Yeah?" Katie's voice cracks with concern.  

Stacy tried to smile.  "I'm hungry.”  

Katie leaned over and hugged her, laughing and crying.  

In the doorway, the agents looked at each other, almost smiling.  Everyone's relief is palpable, and if they were better acquainted or not on the job, they'd be hugging each other.  Doggett touched Mrs. Grady's shoulder and asked, "Ma'am, with your permission, we'd like to take Katie to some specialists as soon as possible.”  

Confused, Mrs. Grady turned to look up at him.  "What for?" 

"We'd like to make sure that whatever links Katie to the murder is just a false lead.  As soon as we've cleared that up, Katie should be safe.”  

"Can I come too?" Stacy's voice startles them.  

Doggett looked at the woman, who was careworn and wrinkled in her gray sweater and loose blue outfit.  She looked at the girls.  "As long as they're safe, I'm happy.”  

Reyes looked at her almost sharply, then mentally shook herself.  Mrs. Grady had been through a lot and was not only showing it but feeling it, which was no surprise.  Hanging around Carmichael and Katie was really shaking her faith in her feelings, which seemed to betray her more than guide her.  
_____________________________________ 

Fools rush in where angels fear to tread.--Alexander Pope 

*** 

5 a.m.  
LGM Offices.  
Takoma Park, Maryland.  

Looking at the security monitor, Frohike was startled to see two girls, but began unbolting the door.  He saw with some amusement that Doggett and Reyes wore the slightly shell-shocked look of grownups with kids on a trip.  Following them, he saw a girl whose face and body hadn't changed in twenty years, and a girl with mixed Asian features wearing leg braces.  He shook his head, "They look like sisters.”  The girls, both wearing braids, grinned at each other, which was what he was hoping for.  Straightening his black leather jacket, he made the introductions.  "I'm Frohike, that's Langly," who waved in a black Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy t-shirt, "and that's Byers," who nodded in his brown three-piece.  

"Where's Jimmy?" Doggett asked, seeing him absent from the TV couch.  "And Yves?" although he knew she was out more than the proverbial cat burglar, beholden to no one.  

"Jimmy's at some football camp in Minnesota for handicapped kids," Langly smirked, then noticed Stacy's leg braces, "sorry.”  Stacy shook her head.  "Yves," he went on, snorting, "God only knows what high-income project she's got her hooks into.”  His face, however, betrayed an envy of the high income she might be getting.  

Katie's hazel eyes went from one conspiracy theorist to the next.  "You don't look like shrinks," she frowned.  Then her eyes fell on Byers, "Well, you kinda do.”  Byers looked almost embarrassed, straightening his necktie.  "So, what are you gonna ask me," she asked, nervously.  

"Well," Byers squatted down eye-level to her, "hopefully we can figure out how to clear you of whatever connects you to Mr. Grady's murder, then you and your friend can live happily ever after.”  

"That only happens on TV, Mr. Byers," Katie said, her courage returning.  

He smiled briefly behind his mustache and beard.  "Well, we try our best," and stood up.  He looked at the agents and asked, "What about...?" pointing to Stacy.  

"Don't worry about Stacy," Reyes smiled.  "We'll just watch TV and hang out for a while.”  

Byers, no doubt worried about Reyes' definition of "hang out," opted to stay with them.  Frohike and Langly led Doggett and Katie through a few racks stuffed with tech paraphernalia, then to a medium-sized room.  "Here we are," Frohike declared.  The room held a desk piled with spare parts and a couple of computers, a couple of chairs, and-- 

"Did you guys rob a beauty parlor and an alien spaceship?" Doggett said in disbelief.  He and Katie were staring at a contraption that looked like a souped-up beauty parlor or dental chair with a headgear that resembled a halo for astronauts.  He dragged his bright blue eyes away to look at Frohike and Langly, who merely started setting up, and just gaped.  "I mean, look at it....”  

Katie, still staring at the chair with a mixture of apprehension and doubt, asked, "Are you mad scientists or something?" 

"You wish," Langly retorted, and bent over a keyboard.  Frohike said quickly, "All you have to do is sit down, we'll attach this, um, halo to your head and get a few readings, and presto, you're outta here.”  He looked imploringly at her, "Look, kid, the feds didn't give us much time to make it look pretty or anything, but it's state-of-the-art technology, it'll tell us what's going on in your head.  Anything remotely related to the nutso who killed Grady shows up, we make sure the evidence goes to Doggett here, and you're just a witness; if not, you're free and clear.  Okay?"  His unshaven face and baggy eyes did nothing to persuade her, but after a few nudges and reassurances from Doggett, she sat down in the "torture chair" ("For cryin' out loud, I sat in it and it's not that bad," Langly argued.  "Yeah, and his hair looks nice and shiny," Frohike added.)  

"Um, could you undo your braids, please," Frohike said.  Katie gave him a funny look, but did as he asked.  He pulled her hair through the halo carefully, which made Doggett think of a mad hairdresser, but kept that to himself.  Frohike dragged a few cables from the computers to the torture chair, plugging a couple into the halo.  Then he ran his fingers through her hair, until, "Ah-hah," and attached a couple of cables into her head.  Doggett stared in disbelief, glad that Katie was closing her eyes like at the general hospital.  He'd hate to explain the look on his face.  

Langly began typing furiously, muttering a little.  Frohike started to wrap restraints around her arms, until Doggett asked, "What the hell do you need that for.”  

"Hey man, just precautions," Frohike shrugged, as if it were self-explanatory.  

Doggett shook his head, grabbed a chair and sat next to Katie, who was blissfully unaware of the cables jacked into her skull or Langly's computations trying to negotiate her neural net.  "Katie, I'm gonna hold your hand.  Anything hurts or feels weird, you just holler, ok?" Doggett said gently, shooting a look at Frohike.  

"Ok," Katie said, eyes still tightly shut, then bit her lip.  

"All right," Langly said from behind the computer, "Katie, I'm gonna dive in here, let me know if I'm jogging your memory or anything.”  His fingers raced over the keyboard, then he moved on to another keyboard and began typing.  

Then Doggett felt his hand being squeezed, at first lightly, then painfully.  He looked from his constricted hand to Katie's face.  "Uh, guys," he said through clenched teeth, trying to wrench his hand free, "her eyes are glowing blue.”  
__________________________________ 

Sometimes I wonder if I've already died and what I think of as "me" isn't really just an artificial personality comprised of a prosthetic body and a cyberbrain.--Major Motoko Kusanagi* 

Listen, if it were possible to create robots *that* close to humans, they wouldn't *be* robots, they'd be *humans*! The only thing different would be their external appearance!--*Masamune Shirow 

*** 

About an hour later, Doggett, his hand bandaged, and the Gunmen were sitting by one of the computers, watching as Langly brought up the final diagnostics.  "Following a basic neural net, or brain pattern, set up by the late Dr. Thompson," he gestured with a flourish, "we've got total memory loss except for these areas: a somewhat complex emotion response, superficial memories and persona, nothing fancy.  On the other hand, her motor coordination and strength levels, which are off the wall, are tied to this learning program, so she knows stuff like Thai kickboxing, Brazilian jiu-jitsu, kung fu, as well as how to use an arsenal of weapons.... basically, this girl is Buffy's little robo-sister.”  

"She's also got this homing system that's activated after a kill, linked to the false identity and target setup," Frohike pointed to another set of coordinates.  

"So what you're sayin' is," Doggett frowned, "he programmed her to go after someone on some kind of hitlist, with papers and everything set up in a foster home, then run back home after she's killed the guy?" He couldn't believe this was the same girl who cried, holding a fragile Stacy.  The memory of how his hand nearly got crushed was pushed back momentarily.  

"Yep," added Frohike.  "According to the original game plan, she's s'posed to have transportation worked out to take her back to Thompson's and gotten recharged, except, well, you know what happened to him.  Otherwise, she woulda never hitchhiked.”  

Doggett shook his head, hating to swallow what he was hearing.  This girl flinched when Reyes leaned in too close, ate and drank at Paulette's, sang those kid songs with Stacy nearly all the way here....  

"I know what you're thinking, but Doggett, she *is* a robot.  Remember what happened to your hand less than an hour ago," Byers frowned.  "Unfortunately, Thompson created a net that would break down if tampered with.”  

"Break down?" Doggett stared.  

"She'd die.”  Langly wasted no words.  "If I even attempted to hack into that OS, she'd go psycho on us or her system would shut down completely.  There's no way we could change the way she operates.”  Then he brightened up.  "Hey, at least we know her weak spot: her head.”  

"I'm sorry, man," Frohike put his half-gloved hand on Doggett's shoulder.  "There's nothing we can do, except make sure she stays away from serial-killing sex offenders--or they stay away from her.”  
___________________________________ 

Meanwhile, Reyes and the girls are at a nearby park, enjoying the morning sunshine and swings, away from paranoid reporters, a shell-shocked agent, and disturbing computer diagnostics.  They looked very content in the cooler and brighter place, Katie in her yellow jacket, Stacy in her green one, and Reyes in her standard black.  "Gosh, I haven't been to this place in ages," Reyes sighed as she twisted in her swing.  Her legs were too long and the seat too close to the ground to swing comfortably, so she settled for twisting this way and that, closing her eyes to get the full effect.  

"You don't have kids?" Katie asked, a little surprised.  

"Nope.”  She opened her eyes and twisted towards Katie's direction.  "Never found Mr. Let's Get Married and Have Kids.  You?" 

Katie giggled.  Swinging between them, Stacy smiled a little, and Reyes smiled back.  These girls deserved to be happy, going through hell and back, and so young.  She felt her heart bleeding a little for these two, then remembered abruptly that Katie wasn't quite what she seemed.  In fact, the more she hung around the girl, she was constantly surprised.  Then her stomach reminded her of something else.  "C'mon, ladies, there's breakfast waiting on the picnic table, and I don't like ants in my coffee.”  

Jumping off the swings, they all ran to the table, where their food was already a bit cool, but nobody minded.  Stacy poured syrup all over her pancakes, as well as her sausages.  Katie gulped down her orange juice, then began wolfing down her meat & cheese & godknewwhatelse muffin.  Sitting across from them, Reyes drank her coffee peacefully, watching the morning joggers go by and idly wondering when the park weirdos would show up.  Mentally shrugging, she dug into her pancakes.  

"Mmrrmmrfmfmf," Stacy said, her face sticky with syrup and pancake crumbs.  

Reyes grinned at Stacy's face, then licking her napkin, wiped Stacy's cheeks down.  "I'm sorry, I don't speak pancake.  What was that?" 

Katie laughed, while Stacy rubbed at her face.  Then Stacy swallowed what was left of her pancake.  "I *like* pancakes," she declared.  

"Well, good," Reyes replied, "so do I.”  

"Monica?" Katie's voice betrayed worry.  

"Mm?" she said, her mouth full.  She turned to look at the girl, whose hazel eyes never ceased to amaze her.  

"Am I going back to Mrs. Grady's? Or are they gonna put me somewhere else?" Reyes could tell this had been on Katie's mind for a while, probably since her grandfather--no, creator--died.  

Reyes was quiet for a moment.  "I don't know.  As far as I know, Mrs. Grady is still your foster mother.  Otherwise, I wouldn't mind hanging out with you guys for a couple more days.”  She tilted her head.  "Besides, the government is paying me mucho dineros to babysit," and grinned, then cackled like a maniac.  Katie launched a sausage at her forehead.  "Hey!" she crumpled up a napkin and threw it at Katie.  That started a food&stuff fight that lasted until they were all too tired from laughing and yelling and throwing.  
___________________________________ 

Same time, LGM Lair.  

Frohike ran a hand through his thinning hair.  "Geez, why couldn't they have made Fembots?" he asked, staring at the computer monitor.  

Langly cracked a grin.  "They couldn't find a design ugly enough for you, that's why," and ducked out of the way when Frohike tried to swat him.  

Byers looked confused.  "But Katie *is* a female robot.”  The rest of the guys looked at him with pity.  

"Fembot, you know, "Austin Powers"?" Frohike gestured with his hands and gave up.  "Damn, Byers, you *are* a virgin.”  

Doggett shook his head, half-grinning.  "Frohike, lay off.  Besides, I think Carmichael, or Mairya as Katie called her, is more the Fembot style," and quickly added after seeing Frohike, "and definitely not on the side of the angels.”  

"Neither is Yves, but we still put up with her," Langly remarked, then turned serious.  "Well, aren't you gonna warn her?" 

"Warn who about what?" Doggett asked, a smile still on his face.  

"*Reyes* about *Katie*.”  Langly said slowly, crossed his arms and waited.  

"Hey, as far as we know, Grady was the last one on the list, and he's out of the picture.”  Doggett's eyes turned hard ice blue.  

Frohike leaned against the table.  "Yeah, what about that guy you found in Tennessee? Or that trucker chick?" 

"As far as I know, Florrie Denyes came to a bad end at the hands of whatever agency Mairya's with, and John Anderson had the bad luck to run into her," he said stubbornly, unwilling to admit he sympathized with Thompson's vengeful attitude.  "All we gotta do is make sure Katie's in a good place, and nothin's gonna happen.  You said it yourself, hack into her and she dies.”  His face was stone and the Gunmen groaned.  "Besides, you said the voltage was s'posed to be for only one kill.  That she made it through three attacks probably means she doesn't have anymore juice.”  

"But she could still be dangerous, voltage or no," Byers reasoned.  "And the sooner Agent Reyes knows, the better prepared she is.”  

"Prepared for what?" Doggett asked belligerently.  

Frohike sighed.  "The inevitable.  Sooner or later, Katie's gonna go Terminator on us, and right now, Reyes is out there with a regular kid.  Stacy's survived one trauma, you think she can handle another?" 

"All right," Doggett grudged, and pulled out his cell phone.  
____________________________________ 

"His eye is on the sparrow and I know He watches me."--Civilla D.  Martin 

*** 

Finally over the giggles, Stacy picked her head up from the picnic table and tugged at Katie's arm.  "Wanna go on the slide?" 

Katie nodded, and said, "I have to ask Monica some stuff.  You and Popo can go.”  She handed Stacy her toy purple cat, and waited until she was at the base of the slide, then turned to Reyes.  "Monica, when the guys stuck that halo thing on my head to read my mind, I found out something.”  

Reyes tried not to let shock and panic creep across her face, then looked at the picnic table quickly.  "Oh?" was all she said, throwing paper trays, cups and utensils into an overflowing trashcan.  

Katie looked at Stacy.  "I don't know who the Angel of Death is, but I know my nightmares are real.  I don't know how, 'cause I know I didn't go to that many foster homes or meet those people, but--they're real, aren't they?" 

"Yes, they are," Reyes said sadly, and reached out empathically to determine what this extraordinary girl was feeling.  Sadness, some fear, concern? Concern for whom? She was just grateful she wasn't dealing with another Gibson Praise as she asked, "Who are you worried about?" 

Katie looked startled.  "Can you read my mind?" 

Reyes laughed gently, mostly at the irony.  "No, but I've got a knack for picking up on feelings.  The details and thoughts I have no clue.  So enlighten me, are you afraid for yourself or someone else?" 

Katie was pensive.  "There were flashes of other kids in my nightmares.  I hope they're okay.”  She looked down.  "I hope the bad guys didn't get them.”  

Relieved, Reyes said, "No, as far as I know, they're okay.  Look at Stacy, she's okay.”  Then she remembered someone else, "And Rosa Bright's okay.”  

"Rosa?" Katie was puzzled, then comprehension dawned.  "Oh, Rosa.  Good," she said, also relieved.  "So she'll grow up to be a cop and protect people like she wanted.”  

"Something like that," Reyes smiled, remembering where they had met.  "Anything else you wanted to know?" 

"Yeah.”  She paused, looking back at Stacy.  "Do you believe in angels?" 

Reyes smiled, and said a heartfelt, "Yes.”  

Katie smiled back and started to walk toward the slide.  "Ms. Herling said that foster kids' angels work overtime.”  She and Reyes made their way to the slide as Katie went on.  "That's 'cause she said Jesus loves the little children, like the song, only she said it's real.  It doesn't matter what happened to you, what you did, how many foster homes you been in, Jesus loves you and is big enough to take care of you, and to make sure, He got angels watching out for us.”  

They were all at the base of the slide now, Stacy with a sandy bottom clutching her purple cat, Katie looking almost radiant in the morning sun, and Reyes, silhouetted in black against the sun, her face unreadable.  Lifting up Stacy for another round of sliding down, she wondered how religion got programmed into a robot.  She thought it ironic that she believed people could be programmed, but not a computer, in matters of faith.  Maybe she needed to be a bit more open-minded, and smiled at the thought.  

"I hope your angel takes a break soon, then," Reyes remarked to Katie's back.  

"Me, too," Katie said, now at the top of the slide.  Sticking her head down the half-tube, yelled, "Hey, Stacy! Coming down!" 

Out of the corner of her eye, Reyes noticed a figure, features obliterated by the morning sun, approaching them.  Reyes put her hand over her eyes and squinted against the light.  "Oh, it's you," she said, seeing a familiar face.  
____________________________________ 

"Agent Reyes," the person said, stepping out of the sunlight's glare.  Her worn face showed some fatigue, like she had been driving all morning.  A large coat, unbuttoned, covered the blue outfit she wore the night before.  She brushed a lanky lock of bleached blonde hair out of her face.  "Is Katie gonna be all right? Can I take them home now?" 

Reyes turned to look at the girls, now running up to the two women.  She smiled at them, then at Mrs. Grady.  "Sure, haven't heard otherwise from my partner.  Sorry, I wasn't expecting you this early.  Oh," she noticed the girls still had remnants of their food fight in their hair and clothes.  She knelt down and brushed bits of napkins and scrambled eggs out of their hair, while they dusted off their jackets.  "We just got enthusiastic about breakfast.”  

Mrs. Grady shook her head in understanding, then waved to the girls to come.  Stacy and Katie walked over, then each held a hand.  "Girls, we're going home now.”  

Stacy's face fell.  "We won't get to show the three wise men the swings or the slide.”  

Reyes smiled at the phrase.  Byers really shouldn't have told that story about Scully's baby, he made it sound like the Gunmen were the heroes.  "Maybe another time, sweetie.  Don't you want to go home now?" 

"Yeah," she said, looking up at Mrs. Grady and squeezing her hand.  
"Thanks for watching after them, Agent Reyes," the older woman said, and turned to walk away.  

Reyes watched them go, then waved at the girls.  "Bye.”  The girls waved back, then faced forward.  She wondered why Doggett hadn't called, the guys would've had something by now.  Pulling out her cell phone, she realized why.  Her phone was off.  

A couple minutes later, they were at Mrs. Grady's blue Chevy.  Then Stacy noticed something.  "Popo! Where's my Popo?" she wailed.  

Mrs. Grady's face hardened, "Never mind that.  We have to go now.”  She unlocked the driver and passenger doors, then hauled into the back seat.  All the girls could see was a rear view.  

"No, wait, I think we left it at the slide," Katie said.  Mrs. Grady was a nice lady, but she could get cranky when she was tired, and she looked really tired right now.  "I'll go get it.”  

"Just leave it," the woman said brusquely, digging out the snack packs for the journey.  Why kids had to be so attached to stuffed animals was beyond her.  "When we get back, I'll get Stacy a new one, no biggie.”  
Katie saw Stacy was already hobbling back towards the park.  She didn't say anything, just hoped Mrs. Grady wouldn't be too pissed off.  
_________________________________________ 

Just then, Mrs. Grady got out of the car, and saw Stacy already a couple yards away.  "Stacy, get back here!" She reached into a coat pocket, and Katie's eyes widened.  "STACY!" 

Stacy turned around, and saw Mrs. Grady pointing a gun at her.  She was too stunned to move or speak as the first shot went off.  She was even more stunned to see she wasn't hurt.  She sat down suddenly, unable to stand.  But Katie, who was suddenly in front of her, was staggering.  

The first shot hit Katie in the head, and she bled profusely, but she was still standing.  Enraged, Mrs. Grady fired off more rounds into her new target.  Katie's eyes blazed an unearthly blue, but her lips quivered and she dropped to her knees.  "Mission complete," she murmured inaudibly.  More shots were fired.  

Reyes, running as soon as she heard the shots, dropped the toy cat she had been holding.  "FBI! Freeze!" She didn't hesitate to fire at Mrs. Grady's shoulder when she didn't drop her weapon.  Mrs. Grady dropped her gun, then crumpled to the ground.  Reyes pulled out her cell phone and dialed 911, then her partner.  Then she looked back to the girls, and her heart sank.  
______________________________________ 

What kind of love would place itself in harm's way?--BeBe Winans 

*** 

Reyes decided to take care of the shooter before attending to Katie.  She improvised, pocketed the weapon in a newly emptied snack bag.  She didn't have a pair of handcuffs, so she rooted around in the trunk and found some rope, tying Mrs. Grady's wrists to the driver's side cardoor handle and her ankles to the back seat handle.  

Meanwhile, Stacy awkwardly cradled the bleeding girl in her lap, sobbing while Katie was convulsing.  She wrapped her jacket around Katie's head, as if that would stop the damage done by three bullets that tore through her skull or the internal and external damage to the rest of her body.  Stacy sobbed, "Don't die, please, don't die.”  

"I'm sorry," Katie choked.  "Please, sing to me.”  She closed her eyes, the orbs glowing briefly before she opened them again.  

"I c-c-can't," Stacy hiccuped, holding tighter to her friend's head, willing her to live.  

Tears rolled down Katie's face.  "Please," she forced the word out, then coughed.  

Fighting the tears that threatened to close her throat, Stacy closed her eyes, unconsciously rocking Katie.  "I'll fly away, O glory, I'll fly away.”  She took a breath, eyes still closed.  "When I die, hallelujah, by and by, I'll fly away.”  She looked down to see Katie staring blankly up at her.  "Katie? Katie?" She leaned closer.  "*Katie*?" 

Reyes saw the desperate younger girl leaning over the deceased older girl in her lap like the Pieta, dread filling her stomach.  "I'm sorry, Stacy," her voice husky with pain, “she’s—” 

"NOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!!!!" Stacy wailed.  "KATIEEEEE!!!!" She struggled against Reyes' hug at first, then sank into it, crying.  

Reyes watched dispassionately as the ambulance crew untied Mrs. Grady and loaded her into their vehicle.  She waved off the medics from Katie's body, it's not like they could help her now.  Half-dazed, she directed someone to take snapshots of the crime scene.  Numbly, she closed Katie's eyes, truly lifeless now.  Time crawled, her senses dulled, as she and Stacy waited for the others to arrive.  

Getting out of the car, Doggett saw the ambulance go by, then saw Reyes huddled over the two girls.  The Lone Gunmen followed slowly, aware of what they might see but not looking forward to it.  Doggett ran over to them, his heart thudding in his chest, and stopped when he saw Katie's torn and bloody body, still being held gently by Stacy and Reyes.  He slumped a little, as if someone punched him in the stomach, but started walking again when he saw his partner's face drained of color and she began shaking.  

No less shaky himself, Doggett knelt next to her, just holding her.  Finally, she took a couple of deep breaths, unmindful of the tears that fell, and she leaned into him.  

*** 

Where are you going inside your mind 
I guess we're always living on borrowed time 
Yes, I will be here to hold your hand 
Just close your eyes and sleep, I understand 

You'll fly with angels, above us all 
And I'll be here to catch you if you fall 

If others leave you, you know I'll stay 
My dreams will whisper to you and guide your way 
So sleep my darling, one kiss goodnight 
Another song awaits you, with rising light 
--"Flying With Angels," Lehua Kalima (Na Leo Pilimehana) 
___________________________________ 

*Everyone* has wings they cannot see.  If there is one thing I *desire* for this world, it's for everyone to fly with their *own* wings!--Battle Angel Alita/Gally 

I saw God here, because love between life and death is special.--Stephanie Closson 

Ny Fanahy no olona = It's the soul that makes the person.--Madagascan saying 

*** 

10:11 p.m.  
July 21.  
Federal Bureau of Investigations.  

Doggett is typing his report by the semi-effective fluorescent light, his body telling him he could and should do this in the morning.  But he continues his work, sitting ramrod straight in his FBI suit, his mouth a thin line as his blue eyes dart between the files next to the keyboard and the computer monitor.  

Onscreen, he writes, "The serial killings abruptly stopped after their increased occurrences, once the suspect was taken into custody.”  He frowned, hating to write what was next.  He stared at the printouts, then typed, "The suspect was Katie Anna Miller, approximate age 8, ostensibly a foster child, placed into Randy Grady's custody deliberately to terminate him.  After his death, she was suspected dead/missing.  As per the late Dr. Robert Thompson, she was a life-like android placed in a repeat sex offender/murderer's neighborhood, lure him out, and dispatch him or her, returning to her creator for recharging and preparation for the next mission.  Her cover identity was ignorant of her true purpose and identity, a dissociative disorder that would allow her to function normally in society.  Printouts of diagnostics and some decrypted information are submitted with this file.  

"Mrs. Margaret Henderson Grady, 39, is serving life sentence without parole for the attempted murder of Stacy O'Connor, the murder of Katie Miller, and possession of a concealed and unlicensed weapon.  She claims she had been in contact with the person known as Gina Carmichael, who urged her to kill her foster daughters.  Subsequent phone traces to incoming calls reveal payphone numbers or nonexistent addresses.  

"Gina Carmichael was a case of assumed identity.  Further investigation revealed she was a 56-year-old African American woman who had been with the Missing Children Center for ten years, unaware of the identity theft until we contacted her.  She was assigned to the Katie Miller case, but was in Virginia wrapping up another case during our investigation.  

"As for the woman who called herself Gina Carmichael, later revealed to be named Mairya, there is no trace of her in any databanks, save for irrelevant religious references and a computer language.  She is considered dangerous, with approximately the same technology for murder that Miller possessed, a cybernetic body with a lethal electric charge and knowledge of an array of combat techniques and weapons.  Her whereabouts, affiliation and agenda are unknown.”  

He flexed his left hand, wrapped in Ace bandages.  Still a little sore, but no broken bones, which was a relief.  He went on, "Stacy Tuyen O'Connor, 6, was placed with the Asuncions, a Filipino family in Seattle.  Pastor Jerry Asuncion led the funeral for Miller's cremated remains on Friday, July 20.”  His mind flashed back to the ceremony, the surprising warmth and sorrow for an unknown girl, with stories, music and food shared with near-strangers.  He hadn't cried, but watched as Reyes wept into Mrs. Asuncion's shoulder.  "Stacy appears to be doing well with her current family, as they plan to adopt her.”  

Doggett picked up a photo of Katie, smiling in a softball uniform, holding a bat, her hazel eyes and coppery braids glinting in the sun.  He stares at it for a while, his face speaking volumes that he couldn't begin to express verbally, then places the picture behind that of his son in his wallet.  

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

Wilmington, Washington D.C.  

Reyes hated leaving him at the office, but knew he needed to get it out.  After indulging in a bath, she sauntered to her bedroom, switched on a tall lamp and lit a few short scented candles.  She put on navy blue sweatpants and t-shirt, stretched, then sat down at her computer for some journaling.  "What makes us human?" she wondered.  "In this profession, I've seen a lot of people with hearts of stone--what does it mean when an artificially intelligent android is thinking, behaving, even feeling human? While I understand Dr. Thompson's pain and reasons, to deliberately create and cause a child to kill is to sentence them to hell.  And yet, I truly believe Katie rose above her creator's, even agency's, designs.  Her primary purpose was to terminate her targets, yet she showed compassion and love to those she befriended, encouraging them to fly.”  A ghost of a smile hovered on her lips.  "So which was the *real* Katie: the programmed killer, or the friendly child? Or was she actually Kristin, condemned to relive her final days in a form that could fight back?" She stared at the window, the candles and lamp making their own constellation in the reflection against the dim night sky.  "Or was she something else entirely?" 

She looks at her own photo of Katie taped to the computer monitor, then picks up her cell phone.  "John, it's me.”  She opened the window, looking for stars.  
____________________________________ 

~~~Epilogue.~~~ 

God works in mysterious ways; His wonders to perform.--James Thomson 

Another of God's creatures has the chance to claim the sky.--Judyline Corpuz 

*** 
3:45 p.m.  
Sept.  21.  
Malachi, California.  

Gabi walks home from school, head down, her black hair partly hiding her face, lost in her thoughts.  She's still homesick for her old friends, her old school, her old neighborhood.  At 13, she knows she's too old for crying, but she feels like it, especially after another friendless week of school.  She knows her dad's job is important, and that this might be the last move, but she's not holding her breath.  She doesn't notice the grey car that's been following her for a couple blocks now.  

"Hey, need a ride?" a man's friendly voice calls out.  She walks over and leans in front of the open window.  Gabi squints against the sun's glare to peer into the car's semi-darkness, and sees only a middle-aged white guy.  She thinks it might be one of her father's friends, but the face doesn't look familiar.  "No, thanks," she shakes her head and starts to back away.  

Instead, an iron grip on her left arm begins pulling her in.  She struggles, but it's a battle she's losing fast.  Panicked, she starts to scream, yet he doesn't let go.  

Suddenly, a force grabs her by the waist, pulling her out and away from the car.  Sitting on the sidewalk, Gabi stares in wonder as a girl, who looks to be only a couple years older than her, opens the car door and slams it on the man's hands.  She opens it again, allowing for him to retreat and closes the door, then watches the car peel out of the neighborhood.  

The girl kneels down and puts Gabi's books back in her bag.  She looks mixed Hispanic, with long, coppery brown hair and hazel eyes, wearing a baby tee and bell bottoms, like most of the girls at school.  "You okay?" the girl asks.  Gabi nods.  "Write this down," and waits for her to pull out her notebook and pen, then gives a description of the driver ("with smashed hands") and car.  She sees Gabi's shaky but legible writing, then smiles.  "Let's go.”  She reaches out a hand and pulls Gabi up.  

They don't say a word all the way to Gabi's house.  At the door, while she's fumbling for her keys, Gabi feels a hand on her shoulder.  She looks up, and the girl is smiling like they were old friends.  "Please, tell your parents, okay? And the police.  Don't be afraid.”  And she was gone.  

"Who...?" Gabi could only stare open-mouthed at the empty space.  She spun around, but there was no one there.  

TELEUTE (THE END) 
---------------------------------------------------------------------- 

The Missing Children's Center was loosely based on the National Center for Missing & Exploited Children (1-800-843-5678), and Light of Hope Services was very loosely based on the Covenant House (www.covenanthouse.org).  Some characters in this fic are based on real people, but I won't tell who for fear of being persecuted, I mean prosecuted;) Likewise some situations are taken from real life, killer life-like androids not being one of them.  I think.  Otherwise, X-Files characters are from Ten Thirteen Production, no harm intended.  
I think it was Shakespeare, or was it Mulder, who said, there's more things in heaven and earth than are dreamt of in our philosophies.  I think that fits my thoughts on angels, humanoid robots, and the X-Files in general.