*~*~*~*~*~* Connected by Lovesfox *~*~*~*~*~* lovesfox@rogers.com Headers in Part 1 *** Part 5 of 12 Unknown Location Monday 7:10 PM The gas station attendant's name was Bob, or so said the name patch on his faded blue, grease-stained coveralls. He was a tall, reed-thin, unshaven man with thinning hair and lecherous eyes. <> And an equally lecherous mind. The initial shock of hearing another voice in her mind almost overshadowed the crudity of the man's statement. Almost. Scully bit back the scathing retort on her lips and forced herself to relax. They would deal with this new discovery and its implications later. The first order of business was getting back to D.C. Laying her hand on Mulder's tense arm, she squeezed just slightly. Her partner had started towards Bob with righteous indignation, clearly having also heard the man's less then savory thought. "Mulder," she murmured. "Let it go. I've heard worse." Ignoring the sympathy and lingering anger that swam in Mulder's eyes, she cleared her throat and aimed a polite smile at Bob. "Sir, we're Special Agents with the FBI, in need of a telephone." Hopefully the man would not insist on seeing their identification, the whereabouts of which were currently unknown. The attendant's gaze slid down to her chest, lingered for long and obvious seconds, before flicking quickly to Mulder and then back to her. Meeting her eyes this time. "Payphone's there," he grunted finally, nodding his chin at the west side of the station. Maintaining her civility with effort, she said, "Actually, Sir, I was referring to your telephone. Could you take us to it, please?" On their approach to the station, they had both noted that the phone in the booth had been minus a receiver. Another glance at her chest before he finally nodded and turned to amble towards the rickety screen door of the ramshackle, one-level building. Scully shared a brief, commiserate look with Mulder, gritted her teeth, and followed the attendant, with her partner at her heels. Inside the small office area, if one could call it that, the smell of gasoline and old coffee pervaded. The room was hot and stale, and as filthy as the man who staffed it. Bob slipped behind the counter and reached down. A second later he was setting a black, rotary-style telephone down on the cracked linoleum countertop with a thunk. Shoving it towards Scully, he muttered, "Here. I'll be 'round back." Before the man could shuffle off, Mulder spoke. "Excuse me, but we didn't see a town marker on the way in." Despite the confusion and curiosity evident in his eyes, Bob asked no questions. Nor did he broadcast any thoughts, unpleasant or otherwise. He replied, speaking slowly, "Town's up the road a ways. Cave Spring, just outside of Roanoke." Scully couldn't stop the startled look she shot at Mulder, seeing the comparable shock on his facial features before he schooled them into a blank mask. His thoughts however were not blank. <> The attendant hesitated, eyes flicking from Mulder to her and back, as if waiting for further questions. When none came, Bob turned away and went through the door in back. His uncomplimentary stray thought filtered back to them. <> Mulder waited several seconds before reaching for the phone, bringing the receiver to his ear. She watched as he dialed zero for the operator, and then tapped his fingers impatiently. His voice was brisk as he rattled of his FBI badge number and requested he be put through to the J. Edgar Hoover Building in Washington, D.C. Her legs were starting to feel rubbery, an after-effect of all their walking, and her ankle was throbbing. The two battered chairs were not inviting, and she would not leave the room to sit outside until Mulder had completed his calls. Despite the filth on the counter, she leaned against it, shoulders slumping. Mulder did more finger tapping as his request was carried out, and then he was stating his name and asking for Assistant Director Walter Skinner. The flinch he gave seconds later told Scully he had been connected -- she could guess what Skinner was probably saying to Mulder, knew their boss had to be questioning their whereabouts. And why they had missed the departmental meeting that had been scheduled for that afternoon. "Sir," Mulder said, a little loudly. Clearly interrupting a tirade. He shot her a glance, a grimace on his face, and continued. "Scully and I need your help." Clipped, and blunt. He gave the AD their current location, briefly describing the events as they knew them, including the loss of their identification and guns. After listening for a long moment, he murmured, "Thank- you, Sir," and depressed the disconnect button in the receiver cradle with one index finger. He immediately began dialing again, meeting her eyes as the call was put through, mouthing 'Gunmen'. "Langly, turn off the tape." His eyes left her to stare at the phone and he paused, the same index finger now tapping the side of the phone base. "I need a favor, guys." Pause, more tapping. "Yeah, big time important. We need you to pull anything and everything you can find on our friend Dr. Kushov and on the address I gave you this morning. Scully and I should be there in a few hours." He hung up after listening for a few more seconds, and pushed the phone away. Turning to her once more, his face creased with concern. She had wondered if she appeared as bad as she felt, and his look confirmed it. Straightening, she cocked an eyebrow at him, silently waving off his concern, waiting for him to share his news. When he cupped her elbow and indicated with a lift of his chin that they should go outside, she took the lead and headed out. The cool air was refreshing after the staleness of the little office, and she breathed deeply, hearing Mulder's noisy inhalation. Longingly eying the battered soda pop machine several feet away, she tried not to think about how dry her throat was and how empty her stomach felt. <> They shared a look of hungry misery at his stray thought, both of them smiling slightly. "Maybe our friendly gas station attendant's got a water cooler somewhere," Mulder said then. "We've probably got a wait of maybe an hour or so here. Skinner's arranging for a police escort to take us to Roanoke Regional Airport, where we'll catch a flight to D.C." She nodded wearily and moved over to the low, porch-like platform that ran partway along the front. Sitting down, she couldn't help the small groan that escaped her mouth. It was a relief to be off her leg and sore ankle. <> "It's not broken, Mulder," she replied softly, touched by his worry. "I think it was just twisted. I'm okay." Mulder eyed her with that same concern for a bit longer, standing with his hands on his hips a few feet away, and then nodded. "Be right back," he murmured, and headed inside again, the screen door banging shut loudly behind her. A few seconds later she heard his voice calling out, "Excuse me!" There followed an exchange between her partner and the attendant, which she only halfway concentrated on. Her eyes slipped shut, her head dipping down and mind going blank. Scully wasn't sure how long she stayed in that limbo between awareness and oblivion, but the next thing she knew, Mulder was nudging her gently, calling her name. Opening her eyes, she lifted her head to see him standing there, holding what looked like two bottled waters, dripping with condensation. Surging to her feet, she almost fell off the low porch in the process. Alarm flared on Mulder's face and he juggled the bottles into one arm, his now freed hand reaching out to curl around her biceps. Color stained her cheeks, embarrassed by her display of clumsiness. "Thanks," she mumbled, barely meeting his eyes. Taking several deep breaths in through her nose and out through her mouth, she felt her heart rate, jump-started into double-time, begin to slow. "No problem, Scully," Mulder replied. "What are partners for?" Releasing her arm, he gestured down at the porch. "Sit," he told her, and sat himself down. Once she had resumed her seat on the slightly warped wood, Mulder handed her a bottled water. Without hesitation, and in unconscious tandem, they both quickly uncapped respective bottles and tipped their heads back to slake their thirst. Wisely, Scully drank only a third of the bottle, knowing her stomach would cramp if she drank too much too quickly. "Mulder, don't drink it all at once," she warned, and watched him lower his bottle after a few more swallows. Panting slightly, he murmured, "Thanks." Swiping his hand over his mouth, he turned to put his water down beside him before reaching into his suit coat pocket. "Wanna frisk me, Scully?" he teased. She knew he had to have food of some sort. "Share or face the dire consequences, partner," she told him, turning to give him a stern look. A look that was tempered by the smile playing about her lips. Angling his body to the other side so that she could not see what he was doing, he crooned, "Oooh, threats. Hurt me, Agent Scully." <> "Mulder!" "Sorry, Scully." He cleared his throat, his ears a bit red, and said, "Okay, Scully. Turns out friendly Bob has a sweet tooth. Three Musketeer's or O'Henry?" Her mouth immediately watered. Chocolate was really not advisable on an empty stomach, but God did it sound good. It was also far preferable to nothing at all. "I'll let the manly man have the Three Musketeers," she replied. "Hand me that O'Henry." The next sounds heard were the tearing of wrappers, noisy chewing, and their moans of momentarily appeased hunger. *** Part II JEH Building Washington, D.C. Monday 10:15 PM Mulder stifled a yawn behind his hand and surreptitiously turned his head from side-to-side to ease a kink. He was tired and hungry -- despite the two sandwiches he had grabbed at the airport and wolfed down in minutes -- and wanted to get the hell out of Skinner's office and over to the Gunmen's place. Needed to see what information they had managed to gather on Vladimir Kushov. If there had been any to gather. With Kushov's lab torched an hour after he and Scully had been there -- a startling revelation Skinner had tossed at them minutes into their arrival in his office -- Mulder did not hold much hope that the scientist would be located, nor information or evidence. Looking at Scully, he saw she appeared to be listening to Skinner's monologue with rapt interest as the AD reviewed the facts they had detailed to him upon their arrival. Her eyes were focused on Skinner's face and she nodded every so often. It was an act. Privy to her thoughts -- or the stray ones, at least -- he knew she was as eager to have this over as he. Though she was leaning more towards a bath and bed, not visiting the Gunmen. He found his own thoughts drifting. Recalling the events that had led them to their current location, which was sitting in front of Skinner's desk. The AD had apparently been a busy man after their phone call from the gas station in Cave Spring, Virginia. Once he and Scully had arrived at the Roanoke Airport, courtesy of an officer from the Roanoke Police Department, they had found tickets in their names for a non-stop flight to Dulles. At Dulles, they had been met by an Agent who had driven them directly to the Hoover Building, via a Bureau car. Moments after they were ensconced in Skinner's office, Kimberley had come in and they had been presented with temporary IDs and replacement weapons and cellular phones. <> Mulder startled, a little taken back by the AD's cynical thought, and focused his eyes on Skinner's face. Oftentimes the AD's expressions clearly revealed his anger and his exasperation, but he had never been outright condescending or derogatory. Their superior looked his usual stern, commanding self, if somewhat tired. He was concentrating on Scully, but his eyes flicked to Mulder then, as if the AD had sensed Mulder's study. "Anything to add, Agent Mulder?" Skinner asked, turning his full attention to Mulder. One eyebrow lifted in a credible Scully impersonation as he leaned back in his seat, letting it tilt slightly. "No, Sir," Mulder replied evenly, straightening from his unconsciously affected slouch. "I think we've covered everything." The thought he sent to Scully was less agreeable, and highlighted his impatience. <> Beside him Scully shifted in her chair, and when Mulder glanced at her again, he found she was eying him warningly. Her chiding thought came through clearly. <> Nodding infinitesimally, he heeded her mental caution. The AD had a few options at this point; if angered, Skinner could put Scully and him under FBI protection. Which would severely hamper their investigation, besides being a royal pain in the ass. Skinner was regarding him with an intensely scrutinizing look, his jaw tense. After a moment the AD looked to Scully and back to Mulder again, and then sat forward once more, reaching for a folder on his blotter and pulling it closer. It appeared as if he had come to a decision on some internal battle and was satisfied with his conclusion. "That will be all, Agents." Mulder hurriedly stood, relieved with their dismissal, aware of Scully doing the same. "Thank-you, Sir." He fell into step with her as she headed for the door, their bodies not quite touching. Both of them stopped at the threshold when Skinner spoke again. "Report to me tomorrow by eight a.m. sharp, Agents." Mulder's hand had come up automatically to Scully's back, to guide her through the door. He felt her muscles shift as she turned slightly to reply in the affirmative to Skinner, and angled his own head back. He merely nodded confirmation, and it was as they exited into the outer office that he stumbled. From hearing another Skinner thought. One of a very personal nature. <> Shooting a quick glance at Scully, Mulder saw that her cheeks were pink, and that she was avoiding his gaze. So he said nothing, merely steered her out into the hallway, letting his hand fall away as they moved towards the elevator, Scully favoring her ankle just slightly. She had managed to ice it during their flight, and had dismissed the need to have x-rays or be examined by a doctor. "Mulder," Scully said suddenly, stopping abruptly. "I need to draw our blood. Maybe I can identify some of the compounds in whatever Kushov injected into us." "Lab?" was all he said, nodding towards the elevator, and putting his hand on her back once more, started them walking again. Once in the relatively quiet lab, Scully directed them to a far corner, indicating he should take a seat on a stool. "Roll up your sleeve," she told him, turning to locate a pair of latex gloves, which she donned. More out of habit, Mulder knew, than because she thought it was unsafe -- she knew his medical history better than he did. Shrugging out of his jacket and laying it down on the counter beside him, he unbuttoned his cuff and quickly rolled up the sleeve past his elbow. Scully was waiting for him by the time he rested his arm on the same counter, holding the tourniquet to wrap around his arm, just under his biceps. A needle and two red-topped tubes were close at hand. His partner wrapped the elastic band around him quickly, semi- tying it efficiently. She murmured instructions. "Make a fist." As he complied she was already tapping at the flesh just below his inner elbow, followed by a couple swipes with an alcohol swab. Holding his arm with one hand, she twisted her body and picked up the needle with the other, carefully and gently inserting it into his vein. The two vials were filled with his blood in moments. After placing them aside and discarding the needle in the hazardous waste disposal unit, Scully took a cotton ball to press onto the needle site. "Hold this," she told him, and when his fingers had replaced hers, she quickly opened up a bandaid and taped it over the cotton. Mulder knew the drill, bending his arm to apply a pressure of sorts. "Drawing my own blood would be too awkward," Scully told him next, slipping out of her own jacket and rolling up the sleeve of her blouse. Her eyes flicked to one of the techs that had said a quiet hello when they had entered the Lab. "I need to get Terri over there to do it for me." Within minutes, Terri had joined them and taken two vials of Scully's blood. Once the technician had pressed a bandaid over the puncture mark, Scully handed her the four vials of blood. "Terri," she said. "I need you to run a tox screen and Chem20 on these for me, as soon as you can." Turning to the station, Scully found a piece of paper and a pen and jotted down two numbers, handing the information to Terri. "Here's my new cell number and our office fax number, if you could call me with the results, and fax them to us." "Certainly, Agent Scully," the quiet-voiced technician replied. Although her face was placid, features bland and unquestioning, her thoughts revealed her curiosity. <> After giving them a quick nod goodbye, Terri returned to her work station, the vials of their blood in her gloved hand. Scully exchanged a glance with Mulder, who shook his head slightly and then stood. He unrolled his shirt sleeve, and re-did the cuff before shrugging into his jacket. A foot away, Scully finally did the same, smoothing her hands down the front in an attempt to rid the material of creases. There was no point worrying about the technician's unspoken comment -- he and Scully were most likely fodder for the Hoover Building's gossip chain on a regular basis. "Let's get to the Gunmen's," Mulder said quietly then, drawing her attention to him. "Hopefully they were able to find something." *** End Part 5 of 12