Sorry for the repost if there is one, but I don't think it went through
before...

Note: This is a companion piece to "Would You, Could You..." because Sandie
asked for more. I was overjoyed at the nice feedback because I thought
"WYCY" was too weird, even for me, but I guess not...This one's X-Files
work #100 - I can't believe I've made it this far!


"Homage to the Saint"
(An X-Files/Highlander Crossover)
by Amatia


	"And they all pretend they're orphans, and their memory's like a
train, you can see it getting smaller as it pulls away. And the things you
can't remember tell the things you can't forget, that history puts a saint
in every dream."
						 - Tom Waits, "Time"

	The things that Adam Pierson had told him were still haunting Jeff
Spender as he entered the cafe where he'd heard them and took a seat at a
table in the corner. After ordering coffee, he looked at the red and white
X-File folder on the table in front of him.  X-152830, his mother's case
file. The last entry had been made by Fox Mulder, upon the event of his
mother's disappearance from the bridge. Spender didn't know how to write
the next entry. Subject found, quarantined, but whereabouts unknown yet
again, perhaps? Or maybe she'd never been there at all, he'd just imagined
it...

	His coffee came, and he stirred sugar in without really noticing he
was doing it.

	There were really only two people who'd had any luck with the
X-Files, he thought to himself, Fox Mulder and Dana Scully. He and Fowley
hadn't solved anything, merely covered things up. Like the accident at that
nuclear reactor. Spender didn't know the details of why they'd been
instructed to keep it hush-hush, but he knew it wasn't even a semi-normal
reason.

	Which was why he was debating resigning from the X-Files, and
perhaps even from the Bureau.

	"Jeffrey." Spender looked up from the file and saw Adam Pierson
standing next to the table. "Mind if I sit down?" he asked.

	"Please do," Spender replied, closing the file and sliding it into
his briefcase.

	Pierson sat down across from him. "You look as though you've been
doing some thinking."

	"More thinking than is good for a man," Spender admitted.

	The other man shook one long finger at him. "Something's wrong if
you're doing that much thinking, Jeff."

	"I think something's been wrong for a long time. And I'm trying to
figure out how to fix it."

	"Is it broken like a vase, or is it broken like a car?" Pierson
asked after asking the waitress for coffee. At Spender's puzzled look, he
continued. "You see, you fix those both different ways. A vase, sometimes
all it needs to be fixed is a little glue. Nothing gets thrown away. But a
car, in most cases, needs a part replaced, and something gets tossed out.
So which is it?"

	Spender didn't need to think about that one. "It's a car, and I
think I'm the part that's malfunctioning."

	"You must have really been doing some thinking if you could answer
that easily."

	Spender nodded.

	"So I'm guessing that you have an idea how to go about this,"
Pierson said.

	"Yeah. But what I'd have to give up to fix the problem is something
I've been working for for a long time."

	"Those are the hardest problems."

	"What you said the last time we talked - about regret - kind of
helped me realize what had to be done. If I don't get out of the situation
I'm in, then I'll regret not doing it. I already regret getting into the
situation in the first place."

	"I think you justified getting out right there, Jeff." Pierson
lifted his cup and took a drink. "What is it you do?"

	"I'm an FBI agent."

	"No, I meant, what is it you do that you regret?"

	Smart, very smart, Spender thought. "I work for my father, who
works for a group of men, who  - basically, they try to control history."

	Pierson wasn't fazed. "Men who wish to control history are dangerous."

	"You can say that again," Spender chuckled dryly.

	"I know from experience," Pierson said, with another of his grins
that didn't have anything to do with laughter. "Keep in mind, my young
friend, that these things rarely end nicely. Often blood is shed. Be
careful, because there's a very good chance it could be yours."

	"I will, Adam. At least I'll try."

	"Sometimes you can't do any better than that. Hey, why'd you run
out on me last week?"

	"Your friend was coming over, I didn't want to intrude."

	"You weren't. Mac was the one intruding. So if by chance he should
show up today, don't leave, okay?"

	"I won't," Spender replied with a grin.

	"Good."

	"So what do you do for a living?"

	"For a living, I teach. Otherwise I travel. I've reached that point
where making a living isn't what it used to be."

	Spender met Pierson's gaze. "You must be a lot older than you look,
buddy," he said teasingly.

	"Older than you know," Pierson replied with a chuckle. "Quite
perceptive, you are."

	"It's my job. The whole investigator thing, you know."

	"Are you really that upset about giving it up?"

	Spender shrugged. "It wouldn't be the same as it was before I was
assigned to the Praise case, so...I guess not. Before the Praise case -
chees tournament, shooter aiming for a kid genius, but hitting his opponent
instead - I liked my job. I haven't liked it in over a year now."

	"You're more upset that you can't go back to the way things were
than saying goodbye to the way things are now," Pierson summarized.

	"Exactly."

	Pierson extended his hand. "Welcome to the world of wisdom, my friend."