Disclaimers: The same disclaimers apply to this story as to the preceding one, "Threshold: Gently Broken." M, S, Sk, etc. belong to CC...yada yada yada. Jackie St. George remains the sole property of Ms. Sheryl Martin, used by her permission in this story. And any and all quotes from Shakespeare still belong to him in spirit, even if not technically under copyright laws.

Rating: PG for a little swearing.

Category: SRHA

Keywords: MSR (M/S Engaged), features Jackie St. George

Archive: To Gossamer. Anywhere else, please ask me first.

Spoilers: For my stories "Remembrance and Reflection," the "Meeting Moldy" series, the "Schism" series and "Sky Lights." Also, possible spoilers for any of Sheryl Martin's Jackie St. George stories set before fourth season. No episode spoilers, unless anyone hasn't seen up to "Paper Hearts" yet.

Notes: This story takes place shortly after the events in "Sky Lights." If you haven't read that first, *please do* as it is important to what is going on here.

Acknowledgments: To Sheryl Martin, for letting me borrow Jackie, and to my roommate, Eryn, who introduced me to the Red Sox/Yankees rivalry and thus made it clear to me that, no matter how much Mulder might like the Knicks, it's very unlikely that he could be a Massachusetts boy and root for the Yankees. :-)

Dedication: To Care, my partner in crime. Consider this an early birthday gift (hint--check the dates).

Summary: The members of the wedding party all have to meet sometime...

"Threshold 2: Newly Acquainted"
by Julie L. Jekel

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"Are you familiar with an Agent Mulder?"
--Section Chief Blevins, "Pilot"

"I think this is your daughter."
"Her mother hath many times told me so."
"Were you in doubt, sir, that you asked her?"
--Don Pedro, Leonato, and Benedick, "Much Ado about Nothing"

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

March 1, 1999

"Jackie? It's Dana."

"Surprise, surprise. What's up?"

"Look, I can't talk long. I'm on a pay phone in St. Louis--"

"What are you doing back in St. Louis?" Jackie's voice dropped suspiciously. "Where's Mulder? You two didn't fight again, did you?"

"Not that kind of a fight, no. He's here."

"Isn't he supposed to be in England?"

"He was."

"Okay, Dana, what the hell is going on?"

Scully squirmed. "Well, you know how you said a while ago that you wanted to be notified of any other major changes in our lives?"

"Yeah. What happened?" The Canadian sounded suddenly wary.

"Well, Mulder's found his sister."

"You already told me that."

"Yeah, well what we told you before was wrong. The skeleton was a fake, a deliberate decoy. Samantha's still alive."

"You're kidding."

"Nope."

"So, where is she?"

"Well, that's the part of the story where things get rather interesting..."

"Interesting? I don't think I like the sound of that."

"You know that old college friend I told you about? Randi?"

"Yeah."

"That's her. She's Samantha."

Jackie swore loudly, not bothering to soften the sentiment. "How did all this happen?"

"It's a long story, Jackie, and I'd rather not tell you over the phone..."

"I can understand that. You realize, of course, that you are now under obligation to introduce me."

Dana chuckled. "Naturally."

But I am not going all the way to St. Louis--"

"Oh, you won't have to. She's coming out East with us in a couple of days."

"Good. We can all go out to Brandy's for a drink or something. I have a feeling I'm going to need it to get this story down."

"Um, Jackie? Randi doesn't drink."

"She *what*?"

"She doesn't drink," Scully repeated calmly. "She's never tasted alcohol in her life."

"And the two of you have *what* in common?" Jackie asked, her voice still tinged with disbelief.

Dana laughed. "We have very little in common, actually, which is probably why we get along so well. Don't worry; she's not a raving teetotaler who thinks alcohol is of the devil or anything like that."

"Well, that's a relief. All right, what about meeting for coffee?"

"She doesn't drink coffee either. Doesn't like it."

"She doesn't drink alcohol and she doesn't drink coffee? What *does* she drink??"

"Well...tea."

A sly grin began to spread over Jackie's face. "Thank God! I was beginning to worry about this friend of yours."

Washington National Airport
Washington, DC
March 4, 1999

"Mulder. Scully."

The two agents turned as a unit, seeking out the voice that had called their names. Randi's eyes followed after a beat, focusing on a well-postured older man with a stern expression and a neatly-combed fringe of hair above his ears, who had approached them through the crowd of disembarking passengers and waiting relatives.

"Sir, this is a surprise," Dana stated, a touch of bewilderment in her voice.

"Based on what you told me, I figured you might need some help getting home without being followed." He nodded to where a couple of photographers were not-so-discreetly searching the crowd, then turned back to eye their uncharacteristic dress. "But it appears you already have that covered."

The three people smiled at each other, Randi reaching up to finger the tight knot at her neck that her thick, curly hair had been balled into. As with a previous trip to the airport, she was dressed in an atypically formal suit, while the two agents were casually attired.

"We learn quickly," Mulder drawled with a wry smile, leaning heavily on his cane with one hand. He tugged on the brim of the New York Yankees baseball cap he was wearing with the other. "I figured no one would spot a Massachusetts boy in this."

"The cane didn't give you away?"

He shrugged. "I guess no one thought I would be off the crutches so soon."

"Not even me," his partner contributed ironically. "He *shouldn't* be off the crutches, but anti-paparazzi insurance is a hard argument to counter these days."

"Where are Bethel and McMillan?" Skinner asked.

"They and the Gunmen are taking a later flight," Scully supplied. "We figured it would be best to keep them out of the spotlight as much as possible. Just in case we were recognized. Plus, the excitement wouldn't exactly help Bethel's recovery."

Their boss nodded in agreement. "Wait--the Gunmen? Mulder's hacker friends? You dragged them into this?"

"Actually, they sort of dragged themselves into it," the younger man corrected.

The AD grunted. "You can tell me about it on the way back. Do you have any checked bags?"

"Only Randi." Mulder nodded in his sister's direction.

Skinner's eyes followed his where the taller of the two women was fumbling with her two carry-on bags, her purse, and her winter coat. Randi looked up with a smile. "Mr. Skinner."

"So, this is the woman who had the audacity to call me at 2:30 in the morning to inquire after Mulder's whereabouts." He reached out a hand to her, his face wearing an amused smile that was uncommonly expressive. "It's a pleasure to finally meet you face to face, Ms. Randall."

As his words registered, Scully turned to the writer. "Randi, you did *what*?"

With a little laugh, her friend recounted the story of her late night quest and the Assistant Director's grumpy but ultimately helpful response to it.

Dana shook her head, casting a disbelieving eye on her superior, then back to her friend. "And he didn't kill you?"

"Nope. Unless..." Randi cocked her head to the side, studying the AD with a thoughtful expression and dancing eyes. "Unless he was the one who hired that guy at the bookstore."

Allowing himself a small smile, Skinner shook his head. There was a sort of forced cheerfulness to the conversation, he had noticed. The weight of recent events was still hanging like a heavy plush curtain over all three of them, in spite of their efforts to lift it. His face sobering, he again stretched out a hand to the writer.

"I'm sorry to hear about your loss."

The transformation happened in an instant, all pretenses at merriment vanishing from each face as shadows dug shallow graves under their eyes. Randi accepted the offered hand, her fingers tightening around it as if trying to take hold of the quiet sincerity in his voice.

"Thank you," she murmured.

Basement Office
FBI Headquarters
Washington, DC
March 9, 1999

"Can I help you?"

Jackie frowned at the tallish blonde woman who had spoken. Her pressed brown suit gave away her status as an agent--or maybe a secretary--but that didn't explain what she was doing in the X-Files office, or why she was carefully removing the contents of that office into a large cardboard box.

Bethel, in return, studied the woman in the doorway, wondering how someone in a leather jacket and combat boots had been allowed into the building. Not that there was anything wrong with that attire, she hastily reminded herself, but it was unusual around here.

"I'm looking for Mulder and Scully," the Canadian spoke, her voice wary.

"Oh. They're upstairs. Moving into their new office."

"New office?" Jackie echoed. "What's wrong with this one?"

"It got too crowded," the other woman responded with a smile. "Don't tell Scully you saw me, okay? I'm supposed to still be at home, 'recovering.'"

"Okay...who shouldn't I tell her I saw?"

"Oh, I'm sorry. I'm Erin Bethel." She stuck out a hand in greeting, which Jackie shook.

"Jackie St. George."

Erin nodded. "The other bridesmaid." She cocked her head to the side with a little frown.

"I could say the same thing about you." Jackie returned the contemplative stare with an amused one of her own. "Did I grow scales or something?" she drawled.

The blonde woman turned a little pink. "Sorry. I was just...trying to picture you in a dress."

The Canadian chuckled. "What, I don't strike you as the buttons-and-bows type?"

"Well..." Erin returned to studying the other woman for a moment, then shook her head. "No."

"Good. Otherwise we'd need to have a long, serious talk to correct that misconception." She shrugged. "It's definitely not my usual attire, but seeing those two finally get hitched will be worth the inconvenience."

"Hmm..." Bethel murmured thoughtfully, placing a few more items in the box. "How exactly do you know my bosses, anyway?"

"We worked a case together. Several, actually."

The younger woman looked puzzled. "Are you FBI then?"

"CSIS. I'm attached to the Consulate." Literally attached.

"I take it they have a more lenient dress code."

Jackie's eyes took on a wicked gleam and she grinned toothily at the agent. "Nah. People who know me just know better than to give me orders on things like that."

"In that case, how'd you get roped into the bridal party?"

"Like I said, I decided it would be worth it."

"Oh, I thought Scully might have...talked you into it."

"Meaning what, exactly?"

"Well, you have to admit, she can be pretty intimidating when she's mad." Bethel grinned. "I'm just lucky she's never really gotten mad at me--I don't know if I could handle it."

"That's right--Dana did mention that you were kind of..."

"Timid?"

"Something like that. She thought I'd scare you."

"Well, if you're anything like she can be, you probably could."

The other woman's eyes took on a wicked, mischievous gleam and she laughed low in her throat. "Oh, trust me, I'm worse."

"Hey, St. George, no scaring the underlings," a voice scolded from the doorway.

Jackie turned. "God, Mulder! Doesn't anybody in this department convalesce?" she demanded.

Mulder grinned at her. "Not if we can help it." He nodded towards Bethel. "So, how'd she--of all people--manage to get your dander up already?"

The Canadian's eyes were dancing again. "She was trying to picture me in a dress."

"The nerve!" He laughed, leaning a bit more weight on his cane and turning amused eyes to his subordinate. "Bethel, we must be rubbing off on you--you never used to be such a risk-taker."

Bethel shrugged.

"And I'll have you know, my 'dander' was not 'up,'" Jackie protested lightly. "We were having a perfectly civil conversation until you walked in."

"You? Civil?" His hazel eyes still dancing, Mulder bent to pick up the box that Erin had just filled and tucked it under one arm. "Jackie, are you sure you're not coming down with something?"

With a few short steps, she crossed the office and snatched the box out of his hands. "Watch it, Mulder, or I might actually *let* Dana see you carrying that load of crap when you're supposed to be staying off your feet!"

He grinned. "Yes, Mom."

"Bethel, you coming?" Jackie called over her shoulder as she started out the door with Mulder following.

"Nah. I'm the timid one, remember? I'll stay down here, out of harm's way."

Brandy's
March 24, 1999

"There she is," Scully stated, pointing to where a woman with long dark auburn hair was waving to them from the bar.

Randi's eyes followed curiously as the two of them wove their way through the crowded bar. "That's the infamous Jackie St. George you told me about, huh?"

"That's her." Scully smiled. "Amazing--she doesn't already have an empty glass in front of her."

The writer chuckled.

"It's about time you got here," Jackie announced as soon as they were within hearing distance. "What took you so long?"

"Rush hour," the redhead responded blithely. "Jackie, I'd like you to meet my oldest friend, Amanda Randall. Randi, this is--"

"Jaclyn Amanda St. George, at your service," Jackie interrupted with a wicked grin.

Randi smirked in return. "Nice name."

"My thoughts exactly." She gestured to the barstools on either side of her, her dark eyes still dancing with mischief. "So, Amanda, can I buy you and your friend a drink?"

The writer laughed. "Thanks, Amanda, but I'll just have a glass of water."

Jackie nodded. "I guess they don't sell much here that would interest you."

The other woman shrugged. "Sure they do--I love just plain Bloody Mary mix."

Scully covered her face with her hand to hide a smirk at the incredulous, slightly disgusted look on the Canadian's face. Noticing the silence, Randi glanced back up with a facetiously innocent smile.

Jackie turned to the agent. "And it took you *how* long to figure out she was related to Mulder?"

Ignoring her, Dana seated herself on the other vacant stool. "You said you were buying, right, Jackie?"

Jackie shook her head in amusement and signaled for the bartender. "Two beers and a glass of water." She turned back to Scully. "I saw you guys on the news. Biggest story to come out of St. Louis since the Pope's visit in January."

The redhead grimaced. "My mother would probably kill me if she heard me say this," she drawled, her voice heavy with irony, "but I wouldn't be too surprised if we actually made a bigger splash than His Holiness."

St. George snorted, picking up the beer that the bartender had just set in front of her. "Well, you gave everyone a bigger shock, that's for sure. A Papal visit is pretty predictable." Her eyes drifted over to Randi and her expression softened. "I'm sorry about your parents."

A somber smile traced the writer's lips. "Yeah, so am I," she agreed softly.

Jackie's face clouded with bitterness as she took a long swig of her drink. "Damn bastards."

"Amen," Scully muttered, starting on her own beer.

For a moment, the three women sat in silence, morosely sipping, then St. George banged her glass down on the counter. "What the hell was I thinking? God, you'd think I make a habit out of wrecking a good party!" She turned to Randi. "I don't, really. Usually I'm the evening's entertainment--"

"Especially if she's drunk," Dana contributed.

"Yeah, well you're not exactly dull with a few beers under your belt either," Jackie shot back. "Remember the time you--"

"I don't think Randi needs to hear about that," Scully interrupted quickly.

"You don't even know what I was going to say."

"It doesn't matter. She doesn't need to hear any of it."

"Sure I do," Randi called from the other side of Jackie. The Canadian flashed the redhead a triumphant grin.

"One word," Dana warned, "and I promise you she'll be hearing about the time you got Mulder drunk and--"

"Hell, I'd tell her about that one myself! Not to mention the time we got in a brawl and Skinner had to bail the four of us out of the drunk tank--"

"I'm drooling already," Randi declared, leaning forward. "Fill me in."

"No." Scully's voice was stony.

"Please?" The writer grinned at the CSIS agent. "I'll reciprocate with embarrassing college stories!"

Jackie turned to Dana. "Now how can you expect me to turn down an offer like that?"

The other woman groaned and dropped her head onto the bar.

Later...

Why is it, Scully wondered with a frown as Jackie and Randi were giggling over her college exploits, that all of my friends seem to have a common passion for embarrassing me? "Are you two quite done yet?"

"Oh, come on, Lion," Randi coaxed. "You can throw out a couple of stories too, if you want."

"I did," she stated flatly, giving her two companions a look that she usually saved for Mulder. "Doesn't anything embarrass you two?"

"I can't think of anything," Jackie said with a shrug.

"And if we could," Randi added, "do you really think we'd tell you about it?"

Scully shook her head in amazement. "I don't believe it. You've only known each other for a grand total of fifteen minutes, and already you're conspiring to make my life miserable."

The other two women looked at each other.

"Did you just hear what I just heard?" the Canadian asked.

The brunette nodded. "I'll tell Fox if you'll back me up."

Dana was about to retort when her coat rang. "Oh, damn," she muttered. Reaching inside, she retrieved her cell phone and switched it on. "Scully. Mulder, is this urgent?" A look of sudden concern crossed her face. "Oh no. Hold on a second, I'm going to take this in the back where it's less noisy--" She glanced up at her two companions. "I'll be back in a bit."

"What'd he do this time?" Jackie asked.

"I'll let you know as soon as I find out."

She disappeared towards the bathrooms and the two women still at the bar returned to their beverages. Randi shook her head, chuckling. "Fox gets into more trouble..."

"Tell me about it." St. George set down her glass and turned to study the woman beside her with a critical eye. "So, you're the long-lost sister, huh?"

The writer nodded. "Yep. Apparently I am."

Jackie shook her head with a wry smile. "And all that time you were right under their noses. I'd be surprised if those two weren't so good at denying the obvious."

Randi laughed, a sparkle coming into her green-hazel eyes. "They are, aren't they?"

The Canadian nodded, lifting her beer. "To the king and queen of denial," she announced loudly. "Thank God they finally got *one* thing figured out!"

"Amen!" the writer agreed.

The two glasses met with an almost merry clink, then Randi went back to her water while Jackie took a deep swig of the beer, draining the glass. She signaled for a refill. "No...make that two things. Almost left you out."

Mulder's sister grinned again. "So, how did you meet my illustrious brother and ex-roommate anyway?" she asked.

St. George snorted. "You want the first time I met either of them, or the first time they remembered me?"

"Fox met you and then *forgot*? This I've got to hear."

A few minutes later...

The bartender frowned as he rubbed his hands with the dishtowel he'd just been using to dry a glass. His eyes drifted over to where the two women were sitting at the bar, their loud laughter drawing the curious and, in some cases, annoyed attention of the other customers. Moving with deliberate casualness he approached them, mentally tabulating the number of beers he'd given to the auburn-haired one and then turning his attention with a deep frown to the brunette's glass. He had given her water, hadn't he? Surely she would have said something if he'd accidentally slipped her gin or something when she'd asked for water. Wouldn't she?

A closer look, however, relieved some of his fears. There was no dullness in the sparkle that danced through the emerald-hazel eyes of the brown-haired woman, or even in the mischievous expression of her auburn-haired, beer-drinking companion.

So, neither of them were drunk. He shook his head in wonder--he didn't think he'd ever seen two such giddy sober people before in his life.

"You know, you'd make a great character for a book," Randi remarked, once she had finally recovered from her latest fit of laughter.

Jackie glared at her over the beer. "So would you."

Her answer was a breezy grin. "Been there, done that, got the royalties, sold the movie rights."

At that moment, Dana returned from her phone call. "So, what did I miss?" she asked.

St. George and Randi looked at each other and dissolved into loud guffaws. Scully stared at them with a mixture of wonder, disbelief and concern on her face.

"Jackie, if you got my future-sister-in-law drunk for the first time in her life, I will never forgive you."

The brunette shook her head, still gasping with laughter. "No, Lion, believe me, I'm sober!"

"You know," Jackie observed, "If you're like this all the time, I would really hate to see you drunk."

"Now you see why she doesn't drink," Scully confirmed with a smile. She sighed. "Can I trust you two to keep it that way?"

"Are you leaving?" Randi asked.

Dana nodded. "Mulder managed to get himself arrested."

"What??" the other two women chorused.

"I thought you two had been promoted off field duty," the writer added.

"We have. Apparently he was teaching Erin Bethel the fine art of breaking and entering into top secret government facilities."

Jackie shook her head. "Tell him from me that if he's going to get himself thrown in jail, he should at least do it for a good reason--like drunken disorderly conduct or something."

"I'll pass the message along. Randi?"

"Nah. I think I'm too young to give him the 'I'm disappointed in you' speech."

"That's okay, I'll do it for you." Sighing again, Scully picked up her coat. "Randi, whatever you do, don't let her drive home. Just in case. I'll see you guys later."

"Later."

Alone once again, Jackie decided to direct the conversation back to the subject of getting acquainted. "How'd you end up with Randi as a nickname?" she asked.

The writer shrugged. "Well, when I went away to college, I decided I wanted to try something different. You know, instead of the usual--"

"Mandy?"

"Yep. Anyway, my dad's brother was a Navy Chaplain in 'Nam, and that was his nickname, so that's where I got the idea."

Jackie took another sip of her beer. Her smile had faded again. "My dad called me Mandy," she stated softly, the embers of an old, remembered sorrow burning in her voice.

Randi nodded with an empathetic glance at the woman beside her. Her voice, when she spoke again, was subdued and wistful. "So did mine."

The Canadian's eyes lifted to meet hers, acknowledging a very different but kindred soul. She lifted her glass. "To Dad," she saluted quietly.

"To Dad," the writer agreed. Their glasses met.

FIN