<![CDATA[And Chaos Shall Reign - The Collector's Edition
by Kronos
<clb@eng.buffalo.edu>
Rating: R
Category: XA
Spoilers: Takes Place Fifth Season Between Folie a Deux and The End
Keywords: Mulder/Scully UST, Mulder/Scully/Skinner Friendship
Summary: Mulder and Scully are called in to investigate the explosion
of an air separation plant in Hampton, Virginia, in which more than a
hundred people were killed. Mulder struggles against self-doubt and
considers his future with the Bureau, even as he and Scully become
embroiled in politics when their opinion as to what occurred runs
contrary to that of the local FBI SAC. Despite the roadblocks, their
investigation leads them to a conspiracy whose purpose could result in
an even worse disaster. Skinner joins his agents in a race against time
that could very well end with all their deaths, along with thousands of
innocents.
Disclaimer: The X-Files characters herein belong to 1013 Productions
and Fox Broadcasting. Usage is made without authorization but with
utmost respect. Other characters and story are mine.
Archive: Anywhere appropriate with notice to author and name left
attached.
Author Notes: This is something a bit different from 'And Then There
Was One' and 'The Abyss Looks Back'. There's a substantially
greater technological component to this one, but don't worry -- it only
serves as a backdrop for the character interplay. I wrote this to span
what I perceived to be a major gap between Folie a Deux and The End.
In my opinion, the character's were vastly different in their interactions
as well as individual belief systems in these two episodes. This is my
attempt to get them from Folie a Deux to The End in such a way that
they will also be prepared for Fight the Future. I hope you will like it.
Feedback is greatly appreciated and avidly anticipated.
Acknowledgements: Sincerest thanks and appreciation to Julie and
Sara for their in-depth comments and edits. Especially for not letting
me get away with making up words (what -- obstructionistic sounds
good to me!). Julie in particular challenged me continuously and I
certainly believe the story is better for it. Additional thanks to Heidi,
Jan, Kristina, and Melanie for beta reading.
*******************************************
And Chaos Shall Reign - The Collector's Edition
by Kronos
*******************************************
Tuesday, 7:36 a.m.
Hampton, Virginia
Bob Handley was pissed. Of all the days to be late. Of all the days for
the kid to be sick, for Jackie to have a meeting. Of all the days for him
to have set up a training session. God damn it!
A horn blared off to the right, reminding him that if he didn't pay
attention to the road, he might never make it to work again. Bob jerked
the wheel to the left, pulling his car back into the center of his own
lane. His eyes strayed up, above the line of the houses, to see the top
of the plant's cold box, jutting into the just lightening sky. A three
hundred-fifty foot tall testament to man's ability to create something
from nothing. To make money from air -- literally.
The plant was state-of-the-art. The biggest and most advanced in the
entire country. And it was his. His to run, his to manage. Despite the
irritation, the frustration of the morning, one side of his mouth curled
slightly as he considered his still relatively new job. So what if he was
a little late? He was the boss, after all. They could wait for him.
And just as he had settled back in the seat, more relaxed with his
internal reassurance, the sky ahead turned red and orange, with black
streaks reaching high, grasping fingers of malevolent smoke. And then
the ground shook and the scream of the explosion tore through the air.
Bob could only slam on his brakes, along with everyone else around
him, as the air separation plant several blocks away exploded in one
fiery ball, the pure hydrogen and oxygen available in such plenitude
giving the impression of a hydrogen bomb. A faux mushroom cloud
that could have come from any nuclear bomb test hung over the ground
that used to hold the plant's buildings and towers. The sudden noise
and devastation were overwhelming and took his breath away. Turned
his stomach and squeezed his heart for what seemed an eternal second.
Ahead and to his left, several cars collided in the intersection. The
sounds of human screams, shrieking metal, and breaking glass were
added to the mix. And then a secondary explosion rocked the morning,
as the storage tanks at the plant lost their fight with the heat and fire
surrounding them. The combined acoustical and vibrational assault
was too much for Bob's car windows and they shattered, along with
most every other window and piece of glass within a three hundred
yard radius of the plant. Noxious smoke filled the air and his lungs.
Bob sat stunned in the aftermath, coughing -- gasping for clean air.
What used to be houses a couple blocks ahead were now smoldering
ruins. What used to be the most advanced cold box design of any air
separation plant in the country was rubble, scattered in minuscule
pieces across an acre of blackened and burning land.
He reached for the door handle, pushing it open in one sharp jerk, then
stumbled out of the car to stand in dazed denial. Sirens cut through the
morning now, to accompany the cries of dismay, the still lingering
sounds of falling and crumbling buildings, the shrill whine of car
alarms set off by the vibrations of the explosion and flying debris.
The ruins of the houses ahead represented the shambles of his now
destroyed career. With one shaking hand raised to his forehead, he
could manage only a single thought. A single word that intruded into
his consciousness. A single expression to capture the disaster that was
now his life. And even more, the disaster that surrounded him,
robbing so many others of their lives as well.
"Fuck!"
*******************************************
Approximately One Month Later
Monday, 7:57 a.m.
F.B.I. Headquarters
Washington, D.C.
Fox Mulder sat staring at the back of his left hand. He held it, cradled
it almost, in his right, which lay on top of his cluttered desk. The
pinkie finger was still affixed to the one next to it, still bound by
adhesive and white tape to its partner. Bound to it whether desired or
not. No choice in the matter.
He turned the hand, rotated it slowly, watching as the two fingers
moved as one. It still throbbed now and then -- the little finger. Just
enough to remind him. To remind him of the arbitrariness of life. The
helplessness that can overwhelm. The crushing sense of defeat such
helplessness can engender.
The office was practically dark, the only illumination coming from
above and behind him, in through the small windows near the ceiling.
The few rays of light that found their way in fell on his hair, over his
shoulder, onto his hands. And as he moved the left again, a shaft
caught the white of the tape on his fingers and illuminated them. His
breath caught in his throat.
There was a power there. A power in the coupling of the two fingers.
It called out to him and filled him with reassurance. With a confidence
that had been threatened too much of late. That two can be stronger
than one alone. When they acted together, when they shared a
common purpose. A common goal.
The shrill ringing of the phone caused Mulder to jerk upright in his
chair, his hands moving of their own accord to the phone and a pencil.
It was the start of a new week. Hopefully a boring week filled with
nothing but paperwork and monotonous, mindless tasks. But a phone
call at eight on a Monday morning could never be good.
"Mulder."
The voice at the other end was new to him.
"Agent Mulder. This is Agent Rick Donovan out of the Richmond
Bureau."
Mulder could feel his breath quicken. Knew his forehead was
scrunched in concentration and silent pleading. He didn't want to hear
this. He knew he didn't.
"Yes?"
"Agent Mulder, we just closed out a case here that you might have
heard about. An explosion of an air separation plant in Hampton,
Virginia."
No. No. No. He didn't want to hear this.
"Yes?"
"Well. This is somewhat awkward."
He wasn't going to help. He didn't want to hear this and if he didn't
encourage Agent Donovan, maybe the guy would just go away. Leave
him the hell alone. No such luck.
"The official word is that it was an accident. We found absolutely no
evidence whatsoever of any outside influence. At least, I should
probably say there was no evidence of a possibility of outside
influence. I'd swear to it, Agent Mulder. But, you see ....."
That pause again. Damn it.
"You see, the plant manager, a Dr. Robert Handley, swears that it
couldn't have been an accident. And I have to admit -- even though I
would swear no one had access to the plant -- no one could have
tampered with anything ..... it doesn't seem like it could have been an
accident either."
Mulder opened his eyes and stared around the still darkened room.
Licked his lips. Tried to control his uneven breathing. He wasn't
ready for this, God damn it!
"Agent Mulder?"
He could hear the unease, the hesitation at the other end of the line. He
cleared his throat before speaking.
"Yes, go on."
The pause lasted a bit longer and he could almost imagine Agent
Donovan at the other end. Rethinking his morning phone call.
Wondering if he'd made a huge error in judgment.
"Well, Agent Mulder, I've spoken with Dr. Handley at great length and
he's convinced me that maybe there was ... something else at work. I
promised him I'd make some calls and perhaps get someone else more
appropriate to look into the case."
Mulder was tired. His left hand dropped the pencil he'd been playing
with and moved to his forehead. He rubbed his eyes, massaged his
temples, then ran the hand through his hair. A little after eight on a
Monday morning and he was exhausted. It was an inner exhaustion.
A draining weariness. He was tired of being the monster boy. Tired
of the disrespect. Tired of the laughter, the contempt. Tired of having
to beg for trust. Tired of not being believed, but ridiculed. He needed
a break. He needed a rest. A real rest, away from everything for a
while. Maybe even everyone. His partner's face flashed across his
vision, and he changed his mind. Not everyone. Never that.
"Agent Mulder, are you there?"
He cleared his throat again and made a decision. Not this time.
"Yes, I'm here. I'm sorry, Agent Donovan. I can't help you."
His right hand moved as if in slow motion to drop the phone into its
cradle. He sat frozen for several seconds, looking at his hand, which
still gripped the handset. A part of him was astounded at what he'd
just done. He'd turned down a possible X-File. Hadn't really even
given the man a chance to sell him on it. And Donovan had seemed
like a decent guy, too.
The whoosh of the opening door interrupted his thoughts and he turned
his head to look at his partner as she entered the office. She took one
step in and stopped abruptly, staring at him. What? What was it?
What was she looking at? And then he realized he still sat with hand on
phone, mouth slightly open, apparently looking shocked.
"Mulder? You all right?"
He let go of the phone finally, sat straighter and pulled his hands to rest
in front of him, on top of an old case file he'd been reviewing the
previous week.
"Yeah. Sure. Everything's fine, Scully. How was your weekend?"
He felt the need to change the subject as quickly as possible. Prayed
she'd just go with it. He wasn't really prepared to discuss his recent
motivation problems with her. Not yet. He needed time. He stared at
her, expectantly. Making sure to paste the smile on. Making sure to
send his doubts, his fears, his frustrations, his exhaustion to the small
hidden recesses of his psyche. He could tell she was considering him.
Eyes never leaving his. But she moved finally, relaxed and easy.
Flicked the light switch, then moved across the room to place her
briefcase on the table. And she let him off the hook, at least for now.
"It was good. I visited my mom. We went out, saw a movie, had
dinner. It was nice. Then I caught up on some reading yesterday.
Haven't had a chance to do that in quite a while."
Scully sat and pulled files from her briefcase. But her eyes sought out
her partner. Took in his slightly slumped form, his forced smile, his
creased forehead. And she knew something was wrong. But also
knew he wasn't prepared to discuss it. Not yet.
"So what about you? Do anything fun?"
The snort was loud, echoing through the quiet room.
"Guess not, huh? Please tell me you weren't here all weekend,
Mulder."
"No. No, I wasn't."
But he didn't mention the vegetative state he'd managed to attain after
only a few hours of trying. The mindless hours of inane and worthless
television. The stuporous, self-imposed lethargy denoting a troubled
spirit. He knew he was skirting the edges of clinical depression.
Could recognize it in himself. But was unable to share the fact with his
partner. Not yet. He wasn't ready.
Mulder glanced up from the pencil he'd been playing with to see
Scully's eyes tracking his every move. She sat still, barely breathing,
mouth parted slightly.
"Mulder, tell me. Please?"
Shit! What now? What could he say to get out of this? She knew him
better than anyone in the world. She was his one in five billion.
Mulder felt the tears that threatened and dropped the pencil, then raised
his hands to rub his face, needing more than anything right now to
stave off the tears. He rubbed at his eyes almost violently and then
collapsed back in the chair, head hanging over the back.
The pencils were still there, hanging from the ceiling. A few had
fallen, leaving quarter inch holes behind, but most still hung there,
wood and lead stalactites that represented the start of his downward
spiral over the past several months. Mulder closed his eyes against the
sight, and clenched his hands in his lap. He was not going to do this
now. Not yet.
Her hand on his shoulder was unexpected and uninvited. He hadn't
heard her approach. Hadn't realized she was there. But the contact
caused an immediate reaction. Eyes flew open, body jerked upright,
muscles throughout his body tensed. Mulder felt himself pull away,
knew his shoulder dropped from under her hand, of its own accord.
Consumed with wretchedness at his own response, he swiveled his
head to the side to look up at her.
God, she looked so hurt. So confused. And he'd done this to her, just
as he'd hurt her in so many other ways over the years. Would it never
end? The hurting? The pain?
Mulder ran his left hand over his face again, feeling the roughness of
the tape against his skin. And it reminded him of his earlier thought.
Reminded him that two were stronger than one. As long as they
worked together.
In reaction to an overwhelming urge over which he had no control,
Mulder jerked back to his partner and threw his arms around her waist,
pulling her to him tightly. He needed her to know how important she
was to him. Needed her to know that he trusted her. That she meant
more to him than life. He realized it was completely out of character,
that it would catch her by surprise. And he could feel the momentary
tensing of her body, but then her arms rested around his shoulders,
comfortably and unwavering. One of her hands raised to his hair and
her light touch on his head was a blessing.
For a good ten seconds he fought the blackness that threatened to claim
his soul, fought to control his breathing, to control himself. And she
said nothing. But her hands were firm as they stroked his back, his
forehead, and they leant him strength. Leant him the strength
necessary to speak, finally. And to pull away from her quiet power.
"I'm sorry. I'm sorry, Scully."
He turned back towards the desk, resting his elbows on the scattered
papers. He dropped his face into the cupped palms and shook his head
from side to side, slowly, deliberately, trying to deny the confusion
that was his life of late. Her light hand was there again, on the back of
his head, then his neck. And he relished in the human contact that was
so often missing in his solitary days. His voice was a harsh whisper as
he spoke again.
"I'm just so tired. I don't know how much more of this crap I can
take, Scully. I'm so tired of being laughed at. Tired of being ....
dismissed. Not believed. I think .... I think I need to take some time.
Maybe .... Maybe away from the Bureau."
Scully felt the words sink into her as arrows to their mark. Her breath
caught as she considered his words. She knew she was partly
responsible for this. She hadn't believed him at first either. Had
watched as they tied him down, pumped him full of drugs. Had told
him that she hoped he'd move past the delusions. And Skinner had had
him committed. Had been convinced his agent was not acting
responsibly. Both of them had turned their backs on Mulder, when he
needed most to be believed. Just like with Linda Bowman. Just like
so many other times.
Scully closed her eyes tightly and fought the tears that threatened to
spill. Prayed silently that they could get past this. That they could
learn to trust each other more completely. She leaned in close to her
partner, hugging him once more before answering.
"I'm sorry, too, Mulder. I can't begin to tell you how sorry. Please,
tell me what I can do. What can I do to help?"
Irrationally, a laugh surfaced from deep down and Mulder fought it.
There was nothing funny here. But still it fought its way up and
bubbled out as a harsh and brutal thing. He dropped his hands away
from his face finally to lie limply on the desk in front of him. Turned
his head to look over at his partner, his friend. He shook his head
slowly from side to side as he responded in a flat voice.
"I don't know. I don't know, Scully."
And then an idea started to grow within him -- a notion born of
desperation. It had nothing to do with his partner. Nothing to do with
their conversation, even. But he knew suddenly that he needed an
outlet for this frustration. For the underlying anger. He wanted to
pound something. Needed to be violent. Even though he wasn't sure
that he had the energy to walk around the block. But the thought of
moving took over and became a compulsion. He had to get out of this
office. Had to run, shoot hoops, swim -- something. Anything. He
had to get out of here now.
Mulder stood abruptly, not even aware of the chair that tipped
backwards, crashing to the floor noisily. Not aware of Scully's
surprised gasp. He pushed around her without a thought, consumed
with the idea of escape, of release. If only for a short time. But her
words managed to find their way through his focused thought.
"Where are you going? Mulder, please. Where are you going?"
He was halfway to the door when her words caused him to stop
abruptly and turn back to her. He shook his head as if to clear it before
replying.
"I'm just going to the gym. I just need ... I just want to get a little
exercise, Scully. I'll be back in an hour or so."
And then he was gone.
*******************************************
Monday, 9:07 a.m.
F.B.I. Headquarters
Washington, D.C.
Office of A.D. Skinner
Skinner reviewed the file in front of him one last time before signing
off on it. He stared at the cover for a few more seconds, running his
fingers lightly over the numbers. His right forefinger rested on the X
for a second before tapping the cover decisively. The case had been a
nightmare. He'd been totally convinced that his agent had lost it. Had
been sure that Mulder had finally gone over the edge. But the man had
been right all along. And Skinner hadn't believed him. Had called the
fucking ambulance himself. Had taken Mulder's gun away. Watched
as the younger man's arms and legs had been strapped onto the
stretcher. Closed his ears and eyes to the pleading of his agent to
believe him. Jesus, how many times would they replay this tragedy?
How long before he could learn to trust Mulder's judgment?
The buzzer sounded loudly in the quiet room and Skinner reached over
to hit the appropriate button.
"Yes."
"An Agent Donovan on line 1, sir. Should I put him through?"
Walter Skinner was so surprised at the news, it took him a few seconds
to answer. Memories flooded him. Memories of simpler times. Times
when he was a mere ASAC and Rick Donovan was one of his best
agents, even though one of the youngest. In fact, Mulder's exuberance
often reminded him of Donovan's so long ago.
"Yes, Kimberly. Please."
Skinner had only a moment to wonder why Donovan was contacting
him after all this time before the call rang through.
"Walter Skinner here."
"Walt, hello. It's been a while."
"Hey Rick. What -- thirteen years? Fourteen?"
"Jesus, I guess so."
Skinner leaned back in his chair, crossed his legs comfortably.
Hearing Rick's voice brought him right back to those years in Chicago.
But one thing he knew, Rick Donovan wouldn't be calling just to say
hello. Not after all this time.
"So, Rick, what's this about?"
The chuckle at the other end of the line confirmed his guess.
"Still cut right to the chase, don't you, Walt?"
The silence reigned then for several seconds as Skinner gave Donovan
the time to collect his thoughts.
"You heard about the explosion in Hampton last month?"
"Yes. I think the final report crossed my desk just a few days ago. As
I recall, it was written off as an accident."
Skinner sat up straighter in his chair, swiveled a bit so his left arm
could rest more comfortably on he desk top.
"That's right. It was."
Skinner again allowed the silence to set its own limits.
"The thing is, Walt, I'm not totally sure. The SAC on this was Pete
Kroetzer. A good man, but sometimes not the most open minded. The
plant manager's pretty much convinced me that there might be more
going on than we originally suspected. But SAC Kroetzer isn't
listening."
Skinner could hear the breathing on the other end of the line, then a
sharp laugh. Pointed and somewhat self-mocking.
"Not that I blame him, really. I find it hard to believe myself."
Donovan had lost him. Skinner thought he knew where the man was
going, but now wasn't sure at all.
"What? What do you find hard to believe?"
The sigh was pronounced.
"The thing is, Walt, I understand why Handley's claiming it couldn't
be an accident. All the literature, all the experts ... everything's in
agreement about how these things happen. There's always an
indication beforehand with the sensors. And this plant was running
absolutely on target until the actual explosion. Absolutely nothing was
wrong. Not one sensor was off its mark. It certainly seems to indicate
some sort of outside intervention."
Skinner took his glasses off, raised his left hand to the bridge of his
nose and rubbed. He could feel the headache coming on already.
"But?"
"But .... I agree with SAC Kroetzer's statement that there was no
explosive device. I agree that no one could have had access to the
plant. I agree that this was not a terrorist attack. That there was no
outside intervention ..... No human outside intervention."
That did it. That's what he'd been waiting for. He knew something
bizarre was coming. Could feel it. It had become inevitable. And the
headache grew stronger.
"What do you mean, Rick?"
There was another pause. A bit longer this time.
"I called one of your agents this morning. Fox Mulder. I thought this
might be something he could help with. All I know, Walt, is it wasn't
an accident and it wasn't a person. That doesn't exactly leave a lot of
room for alternate possibilities."
"You called Mulder? And what did he say?"
"That he couldn't help. Then he hung up on me."
Skinner sat up straight in his chair, wondering if he'd heard correctly.
"He did what?"
"He wasn't rude or anything. He just said he couldn't help me. He
apologized, then hung up."
Skinner leaned forward over the desk, rubbed his forehead impatiently.
Shook his head slightly in the hopes clarity would ensue. It didn't
make any sense. This sounded like just the thing Mulder would
normally go after. A case with a possible paranormal slant. And one
that had claimed one hundred thirty-four lives. This wasn't an
insignificant case, by any measure. And it sounded as if he might now
have to intervene to ensure a more detailed, in-depth investigation.
God damn it. Why was nothing ever easy?
*******************************************
Monday, 9:41 a.m.
F.B.I. Headquarters
Washington, D.C.
Scully stared at the papers laid out on Mulder's desk in front of her, ran
her fingers through them. Read the top page yet again. She just
couldn't concentrate. Every time she began reading, visions of her
partner's troubled image intruded. The phone rang shrilly, causing her
to jerk upright in surprise. She dropped the page back to the desk and
reached for the phone. "Scully."
A couple seconds of silence preceded her boss' voice. He was
obviously surprised to hear her answer Mulder's phone. "Agent
Scully, I was calling for Agent Mulder. May I speak with him,
please?"
Scully wasn't sure how to answer. Should she cover for her partner?
Did she even need to? "I'm sorry, sir. He's not here right now. Can I
give him a message?"
There was a pause yet again and Scully could almost envision the look
of concentration on her boss' face. The scrunched forehead, the
pursed lips.
"Do you know when he'll be back, Agent Scully? Or do you know
where I can find him?"
Scully closed her eyes for a moment. Took a deep breath before
answering. "Yes, sir. He's at the gym right now. I think he'll be
there for another half hour or so. Maybe an hour."
"All right. Thank you, Agent Scully."
She sat still, phone to her ear, even after the dial tone signaled that
Skinner had disconnected. She felt that things were moving beyond
her control. She didn't understand what was happening. Didn't know
what was going through her partner's mind. Didn't know what
Skinner might want with him.
*******************************************
Monday, 9:53 a.m.
F.B.I. Headquarters, Swimming Pool
Washington, D.C.
It had been a while since Skinner had visited the pool. Years, in fact.
Cybex machines and free weights were more his style. But he was
curious. Curious enough to seek out his agent. He was worried about
the man. Mulder hadn't been the same since the last case. Not that
Skinner could blame him. The last months had been hell for both his
agents, culminating with the nightmare in which Skinner himself had
participated. In which he'd wrestled Mulder into submission, forced
him onto a hospital stretcher and watched as his agent had been
drugged into a mindless stupor.
For the past week, ever since Mulder had returned to work, Skinner
had woken in the dark of night, plagued with nightmares of monsters
attacking him, attacking Mulder and Scully -- sucking the life out of
them. He was tired. So fucking tired. And if he were this fatigued,
then what must be going on with Mulder? What nightmares must the
younger man be experiencing?
Skinner stepped into the pool area, took three steps that brought him to
the pool's corner. The chlorine smell had hit him first, bringing back
memories of innocent childhood summers at the neighborhood pool.
But then sight caught up with the sense of smell and he stopped cold.
He became aware of the three men across the water who stood still,
eyes focused on the figure swimming laps. Skinner saw two other
agents he recognized, a man and woman, off to the right, also
watching. And one woman in the pool who'd stopped -- who stood at
the pool wall, two lanes away from his agent, tracking Mulder's
movements in lane four.
All eyes were drawn to the figure, not because it was Spooky Mulder,
but because of the strength of the strokes, the power being directed
towards defying water's drag, the outright speed that was being
demonstrated. Skinner didn't know much about swimming, beyond
what he occasionally caught on televised sports. But it certainly
seemed to him that his agent was fast. Damned fast.
Skinner pulled his eyes away from Mulder to the threesome across the
pool. The men had evidently just recently finished and now stood with
towels forgotten, hanging from limp fingers. Skinner saw one lean in
to the others and whisper, almost reverently. He then sought out the
pair to the right, saw the woman shaking her head, saw the man also
whispering something to her. The woman in the pool still leaned
against the wall, eyes following Mulder's racing form. And Skinner
then understood that this was not usual. This couldn't be normal.
Skinner looked back to his agent and tried to see more objectively.
Tried to see whatever it was the other swimmers were seeing. And
then it began to sink in. Mulder's strokes were uneven, his only
occasional breaths gasping, violent things, the accompanying splashes
to each kick almost frenzied. The man appeared to be driving himself,
forcing a speed and effort beyond reason. Beyond good sense.
Skinner glanced at the two agents to his right once more and saw the
woman looking at him, brow furrowed, expression actually concerned.
He wondered idly what she expected him to do. This was Mulder. A
grown man who could certainly decide when enough was enough.
Skinner heard the splash of water signifying a flipturn at the near wall
and looked back again, eyes irresistibly drawn to his agent. He took a
few steps to the right, then started walking more surely to the end of
lane four. At least he'd be there when the man finished trying to kill
himself.
*******************************************
The water was cool against his skin. The smell of the chlorine, the
sting in his eyes, the slap, slap of his hands cutting through the water.
They were reassuring, these things. Calming. He'd made the right
decision to get out of the office. To come here. In this place he could
forget for a while that he was Spooky Mulder. He could forget that his
life was a shambles. Forget that he had nothing to believe in and no
one who believed in him. Could just forget. Forget everything.
It became a matter of counting only. Count the number of strokes to
the wall. Count the seconds between breaths. Count the number of
laps. Count the mechanics of the flip turn: 1) reach out with right hand
and stretch long and straight, 2) pull legs in to body and duck head, 3)
pull arms in close to body, folding the right across his chest, 4) pull
body in tight and start forward flip, 5) make contact with the wall with
the right foot, 6) turn sideways and begin to extend, 7) stretch arms out
in front, 8) make contact with other foot and push. It never changed.
It was constant. It always took eight counts. He could depend on it.
Why weren't more things in life so dependable? Why not in his life, in
particular? God damn it, why couldn't he stop thinking about it? He
didn't want to think. Not now. He tried again to forget everything and
just count. But this time, despite the longing for escape, the desire to
forget for a while, his thoughts pursued him. Pursued each stroke.
And it made him angry.
Mulder had been swimming for a good forty minutes when the
irrational desire to punish someone, something, once again took root.
The anger became overwhelming and he couldn't escape it. He realized
he was hitting the water hard now, his hands turned at more than a
forty-five degree angle at impact. They sliced through the water,
reaching forward and then pushing back at an ever more frantic pace.
The pain in his left hand, stemming from his little finger, only drove
him on, drove him to punish the water even more. His legs began
kicking even harder now and the flipturn at the wall was explosive,
sending water splashing over the edge like a geyser. It felt good and he
wanted more. He wanted to go faster. To punish the water and prove
his dominance.
So Mulder pushed harder. Kicked more forcefully. Attacked the water
with each stroke. Held his breath ever longer so that his body began
screaming for air to assuage oxygen- deprived cells. But he fought the
desire. He didn't want to give into it. He wanted to control it. So he
added even more seconds between breaths. Stayed under that much
longer after the flipturn. Stretched his arms in front as he stepped up
the kicks even more. And he looked up through the water and saw the
light shining down from above, as if beckoning him to surface, to arise
from the dark place he was in. And it almost made him cry. He knew,
suddenly and surely, that it wasn't the water he was punishing, but
himself.
The frustration, the self-loathing and hate, sustained his anger for this
final lap. This final stretch that would bring him back to where he
began. And he hit the wall hard, both arms making contact
simultaneously, bowing out, practically collapsing under the impact.
His feet dropped hard as he yanked his head above the water to gasp
for air. And he couldn't stop the sob that was wrenched from deep in
his chest as he realized that nothing had changed. And that it wasn't
likely to.
Mulder stood with both hands against the pool's side, arms stretched
straight. He leaned forward with head hung down, between his arms,
practically in the water. His harsh breaths hit the water explosively,
causingwaves and ripples that died out against the pool's wall. He
knew he'd pushed too hard. He couldn't catch his breath, felt so weak
he could barely stand, fighting a nausea that threatened to overpower
him. And the tears he hadn't allowed earlier mixed now with the water
dripping from his hair.
*******************************************
Skinner checked his watch again. His agent had been swimming at this
pace for a good six minutes at least. He had no idea how long it had
been going on before he arrived, but it was obvious that it had to end
soon. Mulder wouldn't last much longer. The three men at the far end
of the pool had left, finally, probably uncomfortable with Skinner's
presence, but the other three remained. The two agents to Skinner's
right appeared ready to jump in if necessary. The woman had
continued to shoot questioning looks his way. He had no doubt that if
he weren't here, those two would have stopped Mulder earlier. He
began to wonder if he should let them now.
Mulder's strokes were almost desperate. The hands practically falling
into the water, the kicks uneven. And then, suddenly, the agent
stopped. Hit the wall so hard it seemed the man's entire body folded in
on itself. And the gasping, the sob that was clearly audible in the
quietness pulled at him so that Skinner took a step forward without
even thinking. But he stopped then, retreated against the wall once
more, knowing his agent needed time. Time to collect himself. Time
to gain control of the demons that chased him.
Skinner glanced to the left, then right. Jerked his head towards the
exit, his message clear. The others were dismissed. Time for them to
leave. He'd give his agent this much, at least. Allow the man to gain
control with some degree of privacy. And the minutes stretched long
as Mulder fought to slow his breathing. To stand without support. To
stop the tears and quiet sobs.
And Skinner wondered if he should leave himself. If he had a right to
stay. Perhaps he'd lost the right when he'd betrayed Mulder's trust
just a short week ago. But he hoped he could still make it up to the
man. Somehow. And perhaps this could be a start.
After almost five minutes, the harsh and desperate breathing quieted.
The shaking form seemed to still somewhat. So Skinner stepped
forward. Walked to the edge of the pool and waited. Quietly.
Patiently. Waited to be noticed. And finally he was.
The younger man stood straight and Skinner saw him freeze as he
caught sight of the shoes on the deck. His agent's eyes traveled up and
widened as he took in the fact that his boss stood over him, then closed
slowly in resignation. Skinner crouched down so as to be closer to
level with his agent. He had one shot at this and he sent a silent prayer
to the heavens above that he wouldn't blow it. He reminded himself to
keep his voice soft, calm, unthreathening.
"Agent Mulder, I'm sorry to bother you. I'd like to speak with you --
in a bit -- about a possible case."
He saw Mulder jerk upright, and bring his sight back to his boss,
obviously surprised at both tone and words. Skinner was again
consumed with guilt, that his mere presence should produce such
anxiety in one of his best agents. Perhaps the best. He dropped his
eyes away from the man for a second, and shook his head slowly.
Mulder was staring at him now, clearly confused. Emotions still raw
and barely under control. Skinner wondered if he should take
advantage of the momentary insecurity. And if he did, whether his
agent would ever forgive him.
"Agent Mulder .... Mulder, I think we need to talk. I have to tell you,
I'm concerned about you. About your actions."
He saw the man stiffen, start breathing faster, before he was even
halfway through the words, but decided it was now or never.
"Look, Agent Mulder. I just wanted to tell you that I'm sorry. I
should have trusted you on the this last case. Should have trusted your
judgment about Pinkus."
Skinner found himself staring at a point over his agent's head, unable
to look the man in the eye. His elbows rested on crouched legs and his
hands, gripped tightly, hung between them. He searched for the right
words. The words that might help to put this behind them.
"You are an exceptional agent and .... I am hopeful that my momentary
lapse in judgment would not in any way result in your view of the
Bureau or your professional career changing for the worse."
There, he'd finally broached the subject and he felt an immense relief at
it. He looked back to see the younger man staring at him intently, still
breathing somewhat rapidly.
"Agent Mulder, I wouldn't want to lose one of my best agents because
I screwed up. Do you understand?"
The play of emotions across Mulder's face was almost painful to
watch. Skinner cursed himself once more at the events that had
brought them to this. At the events that had so conspired to hurt this
man and his partner again and again. They deserved better than this.
Mulder seemed unable to speak, appeared to be struck dumb, either
from shock or overwhelming emotion. The younger man's mouth
opened, as if to speak, then shut again. Skinner saw the hands grip the
side of the pool even more tightly.
"I'll be in my office, Agent Mulder. I'd like to speak to you about a
case."
Skinner stood, hands on hips, and stared down once more at his agent.
"I'll see you in about forty-five minutes?"
Mulder nodded, still silent, indicating his agreement. Skinner turned
and left quickly, hoping his agent had the capability within himself to
understand that the Bureau did indeed value him. That it would be a
tremendous loss if he were to ever leave. The smell of the chorine
stayed with him as he returned to his office. Skinner knew that no
longer would this smell bring back memories of an innocent childhood,
but rather a frantic attempt by his agent to escape the demons that
pursued him.
*******************************************
Monday, 10:45 a.m.
F.B.I. Headquarters
Washington, D.C.
Office of A.D. Skinner
Skinner watched as his agent crossed the room to his customary place.
The younger man sank into the chair easily, exuding confidence and
professionalism. Skinner glanced back down at the stack of files in
front of him, opening the cover of the top one. Rick Donovan had
faxed him the latest reports, as well as his personal impressions.
Skinner had reviewed the entire file and agreed that something wasn't
right. He could tell that much even from the cursory review he'd
made. There was more here than the Richmond SAC was willing to
acknowledge, and he was sure that Mulder and Scully were the team to
discover it. But first, he had to find out why Mulder had turned
Donovan down this morning. Why his agent hadn't jumped at the case
himself.
Skinner looked up from the file to find Mulder staring down at his own
clenched hands. He watched as the hands twisted, first the right
rubbing the back of the left, then the reverse. It was a nervous gesture
that had rarely been displayed in the years he'd known this man.
Through betrayals, kidnaps, and deaths he'd seen a steady strength
with devoted determination. This Mulder who sat before him, whom
he'd watched just minutes ago engaged in what appeared to be self-
destructive behavior, this Mulder was a mystery to him. And a worry.
"Agent Mulder."
The man's head jerked up and he sat straight and tall, hands moving to
clench the chair's arms. The face was again impassive, betraying
nothing.
"Yes, sir."
Skinner sighed heavily at the formality, not that he really expected
anything else. He was the boss. It didn't matter that he actually cared
about his agents. Mulder and his partner had long ago worked their
way into his heart. He cared about what happened to them, on the job
and off. But the job came first. The job would always come first. He
sighed again, frustrated at the realities that forced such imposed
protocol.
"I received a call this morning from an agent I worked with many years
ago. Rick Donovan from the Richmond Bureau."
Mulder still sat unmoving, only a slight creasing of his forehead
indicating recognition of the name.
"Agent Donovan filled me in on a case he'd been working in Hampton.
He faxed me the most recent information. I've reviewed this file and
agree with him that it was closed prematurely."
Skinner looked closely at Mulder now, hoping for some reaction.
Some indication of interest or at least attention. The man just stared at
him.
"More than a hundred people were killed when an air separation plant
exploded a little over a month ago. I imagine you heard about this."
It wasn't a question, but still he waited for his agent's nod before
continuing.
"The SAC on the case, Pete Kroetzer, closed down the investigation
last week, after determining there was no chance of terrorist action. He
stated in his report that the plant blew as a result of a malfunction of
sensing equipment that missed problems in flow intake, which then led
to a pressure inequity in the cold end of the plant. This was all
conjecture only. The sensors indicated no problems whatsoever until
the last moment, when the plant blew."
Mulder nodded in understanding. At least the man seemed to be
following the conversation.
"I don't really know SAC Kroetzer, but I do know Rick Donovan
extremely well. If he says the case shouldn't be closed, then I believe
him."
Skinner saw his agent jerk a bit, then realized why. Mulder had told
him the last case shouldn't be closed, too. Pleaded with him. And
he'd ignored it. Where was his belief then? Skinner glanced back
down at the files before focusing on his agent once more. He ran his
fingers across the file, first finger stopping on the case number. No X
this time. He cleared his throat before speaking, not sure whether it
would be steady or not.
"I'd like for you and Agent Scully to look into this. I know that you
spoke with Agent Donovan briefly this morning and that you told him
you couldn't help him. I'd like to know why."
And finally Skinner noted a reaction in his agent. Mulder actually
paled, dropped first his eyes, then his head, down to the hands that
were once again in his lap. His shoulders slumped, as if in defeat, and
he seemed to have closed his eyes. And Skinner knew then that his
agent was more troubled than he'd originally realized. Seemed, in fact,
to have given up. And it frightened him. The one constant he thought
he could always count on was Mulder's perseverance in light of
overwhelming odds.
"Agent Mulder ..."
No, that was too formal. It wasn't right. Skinner stood and walked
around the desk, then leaned against it, crossed his arms, and stared
down at his agent.
"Mulder. Tell me what's going on. Please."
He wasn't prepared for the laughter. Soft, but insistent. But there was
no amusement. No humor in it. Skinner couldn't help the small jerk
of his leg in surprise. His movement didn't go unnoticed by the
younger man. Mulder was obviously fighting to gain control, had
leaned forward in his seat and dropped his face into upraised hands.
His agent's jacket sleeves and shirt cuffs had slid down his arms
slightly, revealing the still black and blue wrists. The bruises obtained
from fighting wrist straps that had held him confined in the hospital just
a short week ago. Skinner closed his eyes against the sight, decided to
wait his agent out.
Mulder sat silently for several seconds, then rubbed his forehead with
lightly shaking fingers, ran his hands through his hair, dropping them
finally to his lap. He raised his head slowly, tilting it back to see his
boss' face. And his expression was one of hopelessness and despair.
Skinner knew the man was letting him in and recognized it as resulting
more from defeat than any trust. And he cursed himself again for
allowing this to go so far without interceding earlier.
"Mulder, I don't know what to say. I've tried to give you as much
latitude to pursue cases as possible. But I've watched you, over the
past year, disavow everything you used to believe in. I've watched
you allow yourself to be used and manipulated. I've watched you put
yourself in untenable situations that seem to me to be almost suicidal or
self-destructive, at the very least. And I'm worried."
Mulder stared at him, the only movement the jerky rise and fall of his
chest as he fought for air. His agent's hands once again gripped the
chair arms tightly, knuckles showing white and pronounced.
"Mulder, tell me what to do here. I know better than to suggest you go
speak with a professional. I know it would be useless. But can you
appreciate that as an AD, as your supervisor, I am responsible for my
agent's actions, as well as their safety? And can you appreciate that I
won't stand around and watch as you self-destruct?"
Skinner watched as Mulder shook his head back and forth, in silent
denial. Watched as the man's eyes filled with tears. Watched as his
agent nervously licked his lips, cleared his throat. Skinner was
exhausted suddenly and moved again, this time to the chair where
Scully usually sat. His thoughts turned to her, as they had so often
over the past year. These two were best friends. Each would move
heaven and earth to make sure the other was all right. What must
Scully be thinking? What must she be going through? Did she feel as
helpless as he himself did? As helpless as Mulder evidently felt?
Skinner sat back in the chair, rested his hands in his lap, then stared at
his desk. So this was what it felt like. This was what they saw when
they sat here. He allowed his eyes to roam around the room for a few
moments, soaking in the perspective. It was so different. It reminded
him that perspective was everything. Where you've been, where you
are, where you're going. It all has to do with perspective. He sighed
deeply and glanced over at the man next to him.
Mulder still stared straight ahead, seeming more in control again.
Skinner must have caught him by surprise. Not always an easy thing
to do with Mulder. Nor was it intentional.
"Mulder. Tell me whether I should be worried."
The head was shaking again, more violently this time, dislodging hair
to fall forward in his face. And Skinner was reminded of a little kid
suddenly, insisting against all reason that what was happening wasn't
really happening.
"Tell me, Mulder."
His agent had not really spoken during the past ten minutes. Hadn't
said anything beyond acknowledging his awareness of the Hampton
case. It was time for him to speak.
"Mulder."
Skinner knew he'd said it roughly. Knew as his agent jerked at the
harshness that it had been unnecessary. Mulder wasn't being stubborn
on purpose. Wasn't intentionally being difficult. The younger man
seemed almost in shock. And Skinner's words were gentle as he tried
once more.
"Mulder. Please tell me whether I should be worried."
His agent turned to look at him finally, eyes questioning, expression
unsure. He swallowed hard and then broke his long silence.
"I don't know. I don't know anymore."
Then the emotion broke through once more as his voice cracked.
"I don't know what to believe in anymore."
Skinner turned his gaze forward once more, allowing Mulder the
privacy of his emotions. He needed to remind the man of something he
had known once before.
"There are at least two things you can believe in, Mulder. I know I do.
You can believe in yourself. And you can believe in your partner.
Beyond that, maybe it really doesn't matter."
He turned to look at the younger man again, actually frightened at what
he might see. But Mulder seemed to be thinking about it. Thinking
hard. The eyes found his finally and Skinner recognized a small
glimmer of something that had been missing for a while. It was a
kernel only. A small seedling of hope. And Skinner prayed it would
find the soil it needed to survive.
"Agent Mulder, this case has already been closed officially. There's no
rush. Perhaps you and Scully could leave tomorrow. That'll give you
-- both of you -- some time to get ready. Maybe you could take the rest
of the day off. I'm sure you could find something to keep you busy."
Skinner stood then and walked back around his desk, settling into his
chair gratefully. It was a familiar feeling and he took comfort in it. He
picked up the file and reached across the desk, handing it out to his
agent. He met Mulder's eyes and willed the man to take it, to find
some small pleasure in doing his job, to find hope that the future would
make its own path. And that Mulder had a place in it.
His agent took a shaky breath, then another. And reached forward to
take the file. He stood then and held it in his hands. Stared down at
the cover for several seconds, then looked back to his boss and
nodded. The younger man's voice was unsteady when he said, almost
in a whisper, "Thank you, sir."
Skinner nodded to him, then looked back down at his desk. Picked up
a file and opened it. The words were meaningless, but at least
provided a cover. Allowed him the luxury of an excuse not to look at
his agent full on. He saw Mulder move then, out of the corner of his
eye. Saw his agent begin the walk to the door. And Skinner followed
him with his eyes. Took in the fact that the younger man stood
straight, that the shoulders weren't quite so stooped. Maybe it would
be all right. Maybe his agent would find the faith in himself and his
partner that would sustain him until something more concrete came
along. Skinner prayed for it. For both his agents.
As the door closed behind Mulder, Skinner released a breath he hadn't
even realized he'd been holding. Released it explosively. He jerked
his glasses off his face with his right hand, rubbed his face with the
left. Rubbed at his eyes, wishing he could banish forever the defeated
image of his agent that haunted him.
He glanced down at his watch. Jesus, it was only a little after eleven.
His meeting with Mulder had lasted less than half an hour. The day
seemed overlong already. He sighed heavily and put his glasses back
on, then picked up the phone in one smooth movement. He still had to
speak with Scully. Had to brief her on the case. Had to find out how
she was doing.
*******************************************
Monday, 2:32 p.m.
Mulder Residence
Washington, D.C.
The television droned on, but Mulder wasn't really aware of it
anymore. He sat at one end of the sofa, still dressed in his pants and
shirt from work, the tie loosened and askew, the top two buttons
unfastened. His shoes had been kicked off just inside the door, and his
raincoat and suit jacket lay discarded on the floor, a path of leather and
fabric breadcrumbs leading to the living room.
He sat slumped amidst the soft cushions, socked feet resting flat on the
floor. His legs were splayed awkwardly and his arms rested limply by
his sides. The room was dark, the result of no lights and blinds closed
tightly. The only sounds came from the television and the bubbling
fish tank. The room smelled almost musty and Mulder realized just
how long it had been since he'd opened a window.
He couldn't stop thinking about the meeting with Skinner. Couldn't
stop thinking about what his boss had said to him. Maybe the man was
right. Maybe nothing else did matter. No one else. He'd known that
once before. Years ago, when the X-Files had been shut down. He'd
had himself and he'd had Scully. And it had been enough then. The
knowing of it had seen him through those times.
Mulder lifted his head and looked around the room, taking in the
pictures, the furniture, the books, the knick knacks. These things that
represented who he was. That were milestones along the path of his
life. He turned his head to the right and settled his gaze on a
paperweight. A smooth semi-cylindrical glass weight, flat on the
bottom. Scully had given it to him last year when she thought she was
dying. When they had both thought it.
He dragged himself up and off the couch. Went to it, picked it up
gently and turned it, first one way, then the other. Felt the smoothness
of it. It was smooth everywhere, so very smooth. Except underneath,
where the words were written.
'The Truth Will Save Us'
He knew what the words said, but it was too dark in the room to see
clearly and he wanted to see them. He needed to see them.
Mulder took another step to his desk and pulled the blinds up quickly,
then reached down and turned on the desk lamp, needing now to bathe
the room in light and brightness. He pulled out the desk chair with his
left hand and sank into it. Then held up his right and looked closely at
the paperweight once more. The light hit it, from the window and
lamp, and it became a rainbow of colors, reflecting their brilliance
throughout the room.
And he could see the words now. Could see the fine engraving of the
letters as they flowed in the glass. The fingers of his left hand caressed
the words as he read them over again and again. As he allowed them to
enter his heart, and find a home, once again, in his soul. And he said
them out loud. Whispered them into the quietness.
He wanted to believe. He wanted Skinner to be right. He wanted to
trust in himself. He knew he could trust in Scully. Maybe the rest
didn't matter, after all. He and Scully had their own truths. Mulder
took a deep breath. Released it. Breathed deeply again. He held his
palm out, so the glass could catch the light coming in the window more
easily. And as the colored light found purchase in the dark, so did the
truth find purchase in his soul.
Still holding the heavy glass in his right hand, he reached out with his
left and picked up the phone. Set the handset on the desk long enough
to dial a number ingrained in his memory, then picked it up once more.
The voice that answered brought a small smile to his lips.
"Hey, Scully. What're you doing?"
He could practically see her raised eyebrows. Could imagine the small
smile of the fine features.
"Well, I'm finishing up some paperwork that you so conveniently
forgot about when you took off early today. And don't think you've
totally escaped, Mulder. I'm saving some up to bring along with us.
You can work on it in the car tomorrow, while I drive us to Hampton."
The laugh he released was genuine. Trust in Scully to know just the
right thing to say. To simultaneously let him know how much she
cared while effectively putting him in his place. He wrapped his hand
around the glass weight, fingers gripping it tightly, and asked, "What
time do you want to leave tomorrow?"
"Hmm. It's a short trip. A few hours at most. How about if I pick
you up around nine? The traffic won't be too bad by then and we'll get
into Hampton right around noon. We can grab some lunch before
heading to see the site. I'll give Donovan a call so he can make
arrangements for us."
"Sounds good, Scully. I'll see you then."
Mulder had the phone away from his ear, was already moving to set it
back in the cradle when he heard his partner's voice.
"What? Scully, I didn't get that. What did you say?"
There was silence for a moment before she spoke again.
"I said, how are you doing?"
Mulder looked down again at the smooth glass in his hand. Ran his
thumb once more over the engraved words.
"Good, Scully. I'm good. See you tomorrow."
He set the phone down carefully, hand lingering for a few extra
moments. He stood then, confidently, surely, and moved back to the
couch, bringing the paperweight with him. His eyes focused on the
files that he'd placed on the coffee table some hours earlier. He hadn't
looked at them yet, but maybe it was time.
The paperweight found rest next to the top file as he moved to flip to
the first page. He was leaned forward, arms propped on knees, sitting
on the very edge of the couch. He began reading then. Started reading
about the explosion that had rocked the early morning silence a little
over a month ago. The explosion that had taken out practically an
entire city block in Hampton, Virginia, killing thirty-one employees and
more than a hundred civilians. The explosion that the SAC had labeled
an accident.
And suddenly Mulder realized he was intrigued. And a little excited.
Rick Donovan had added his own note, off the record, which Skinner
had placed in the file for Mulder. The agent suggested that telepathy or
perhaps even a 'disembodied spirit' might have been involved. Mulder
shook his head and smiled. At least the man was open minded.
*******************************************
Tuesday, 8:46 a.m.
Mulder Residence
Washington, D.C.
The knock at the door caught him by surprise. It was too early for
Scully, wasn't it? Mulder glanced at his watch on the way, confirming
that he still had fifteen minutes before the agreed upon departure time.
He was dressed, for the most part. His jacket hung over a chair back
and his shoes were by the door. Otherwise, he was pretty much
packed and ready to go. He swung the door open and was only mildly
surprised to find his partner there. Who else could it have been, after
all?
"Hey, Scully. You're early."
"Good morning to you, too."
Scully pushed her way past her partner, heading for the couch.
Mulder, still standing at the open door, was amused when she flopped
down, then stretched out on her back after kicking off shoes. She'd
placed her right arm across her face and the words were muffled when
she spoke.
"I couldn't sleep last night. I've been dressed and ready to come get
you since six."
She raised her arm and looked at him for a moment, expression
accusatory.
"It's all your fault, Mulder."
He moved finally, closing the door and walking into the living room.
He could tell she was joking and decided to play along.
"My fault? And just what the hell did I do, pray tell?"
He moved to the far end of the couch, where Scully's head rested
against the arm, and stopped. Leaned over slightly so she couldn't
avoid seeing him when she opened her eyes.
"Scully? Just how exactly is this my fault?"
She moved the arm away again and glared up at him. But a smile
played around her mouth and lit her face.
"I was filling out the paperwork for the Adams case yesterday
afternoon when I realized you hadn't gotten a signature from one of the
witnesses."
Mulder stood straight, still looking down at her. Stretched his back
first to the right, then left. He didn't like the way she stressed the word
'you'. The case hadn't been theirs, but they'd consulted on it a couple
weeks ago. The agent who'd run the investigation had dumped half the
paperwork in their laps on a technicality. It hadn't exactly been at the
top of either of their priority lists to get it done. Mulder was curious
why she'd bothered at all yesterday. He moved to the far end of the
couch and sat down, nudging his partner's feet to give him a few more
inches.
"Yeah. So?"
Scully sighed deeply and glanced down at him. Then shook her head
and shut her eyes before continuing with her story.
"So I called the guy and set up a meeting with him. When I got there,
he didn't answer the door. So I called on the cell phone and he didn't
answer. Then I tried the door and it was unlocked."
Mulder could feel his eyebrows drop, his forehead scrunch slightly as a
result of the exasperation that flooded him. Scully knew better than to
do something like that alone. He turned slightly so he was facing her
somewhat. Propped his right arm along the length of the couch back.
She glanced at him guiltily and he wondered just what it was she was
thinking about hiding from him.
"Yeah. Then?"
"Well, I opened the door and called out. There wasn't any answer. So
..... I went in."
Mulder didn't say anything. Just stared at her, a disapproving
expression on his face. He couldn't really say anything, after all.
He'd done much worse himself and a hell of a lot more often than she
ever had. And Scully certainly knew it. He felt the light brush of her
feet against his leg and looked down. They were so small, her feet.
The realization made him aware once more of how little she was. How
physically vulnerable. He sighed and looked back to her face. Gave a
noncommittal grunt to encourage her to continue.
"I wasn't really concerned. I figured he was just running late from
work or something. So I decided I'd take a quick look around and then
wait outside for him."
"But?"
"But .... when I started checking the place out, I heard a noise, at the
back of the apartment."
"Uh, huh."
"So I headed back there. Quietly. Just in case."
Scully was starting to sound a bit defensive and the curiosity was now
driving Mulder crazy. He had no idea where this was heading, but was
pretty sure he'd get a good laugh out of it if Scully's red face and
embarrassed demeanor were any indication.
"I got to a closed door and there was screaming coming from inside. A
woman. And I heard something crash to the floor. So I pulled out my
weapon."
"Yeah?"
"And threw open the door."
"Yeah -- and then what, Scully? What happened?"
Scully had her arm pressed tightly against her face again. He could see
she was shaking her head back and forth. He wasn't sure if she was
going to tell him or not. He grabbed her right big toe and squeezed.
"Scully, you're killing me here. What did you see?"
She snorted, a sharp, annoyed sound before telling him.
"Well, I suppose you could say he had his own weapon out and had
been using it pretty effectively if the screams of pleasure coming from
his companion were any indication."
Mulder froze for a good three seconds, in complete and utter shock,
and then started laughing so hard he thought he was going to throw up.
The image of his generally prim and proper partner bursting in on a
little afternoon rendezvous, weapon drawn, on both sides, was just too
much for him. He rolled off the couch and onto the floor, to lie on his
side, knees drawn in. He couldn't stop laughing. God, he hadn't
laughed this hard in years. He couldn't remember when he'd laughed
so fucking hard. Tears streamed down his face and the back of his
head, just above the neck, started to pound, a good indication that it
was time to calm down a bit.
Mulder concentrated hard on breathing amidst the laughter, told himself
to relax, calm down, breathe deeply. He rolled onto his back, stared at
the ceiling, wiped at his eyes. And just as he managed to get the
laughter under control, the hiccups started. And caused him to start
laughing again, this time as a snickering that caused a snorting sound to
erupt from his nose.
A good three or so minutes later, as he finally managed to start getting
himself under control once again, Mulder saw his partner move to
stand over him. He still lay on his back, knees up, arms across his
chest. The hiccups still had hold of him, but the laughter had quieted,
leaving him with a dopey smile. His partner leaned over him, the
widest grin he'd ever seen on her beautiful face.
"Glad you enjoyed the tragic tale of my humiliation, Mulder. Now, are
you about ready to get going?"
Mulder dropped his arms to the floor and started pushing himself up,
slowly. He made it to a sitting position finally then wrapped his right
arm around his ribs, rubbing carefully.
"I think you damaged something ... hic ... Scully. Can you get
internal ... hic ... injuries from laughing too ... hic ... hard?"
His partner was laughing now, at him. Scully reached out a hand to
help him up from the floor and he grabbed it gratefully, allowing her to
pull him up.
"Mulder, sit on the couch. I'll get you a spoonful of sugar. Works
every time."
She disappeared for a bit while he sat, hiccuping quietly, still trying to
clear his mind of the image his partner had left him with. But a few
questions remained. Speaking loudly, so she'd hear him in the
kitchen, he said, "Scully, why did you ... hic ... say it was my fault
that you ... hic ... didn't get any sleep?"
She returned then, a dish with sugar and a teaspoon in her hands. She
held them out to him, still grinning, watched as he took a spoonful,
then said, "Because I spent all night wondering whether I should tell
you or not and then once I decided to, wondering how you'd react. It
is slightly embarrassing, after all."
He laughed yet again, this time a controlled and easy laugh, and started
shaking his head. Poor Scully. Was she in for a surprise. He looked
up at her and wondered whether he should or shouldn't.
"Scully, did you have to report what happened? Was it written down
anywhere?"
"Well, yes, of course. I had to let Skinner know. And the agent in
charge of the case. Why?"
"My dear Doctor Scully, I would bet you a week's pay that I'm not the
only one this morning who's hearing about your little adventure. This
isn't exactly the kind of thing you can keep quiet. It is the Federal
Bureau of 'Investigations', after all."
Scully paled at the words, stood straight and stared at him in shock.
Her voice shook as she spoke.
"What?"
"Scully, this is just too priceless. Something like this doesn't come
along every day. Let's just say that it's a good thing we'll be out of
town for a while. Maybe that'll give everyone time to get over it.
Maybe not forget it, but at least get over it."
Mulder stood and walked into the dining room, grabbing his jacket
from the chair back. He slipped it on, pulled his cuffs down,
straightened his tie. Then slipped his shoes on, and crouched down to
tie them. Damn, he felt good. He chuckled softly to himself once
more at the realization that Scully had saved the story for him.
Probably thought about the delivery all night. He glanced over at her to
see the oddest expression. Something between chagrin and horror.
"Hey, Scully."
He waited until she'd focused on him then gave her a heartfelt smile.
"Thanks. I needed that."
She started moving towards the door, smiled a bit as she opened it.
"Hey, what are partners for?"
*******************************************
Tuesday, 11:03 a.m.
Somewhere in Virginia
Mulder was sounding petulant.
"Did not."
"You did too!"
"Scully, I did not tell you to turn left. I said that it was possible that if
we were to turn left, it might get us to the interstate faster and we might
not have to go through the tunnel. But I didn't offer any evidence and
you didn't ask for any. Uncharacteristically."
"That was a bit snide, wouldn't you say?"
He shut his mouth, clenched his teeth, glared out the passenger
window. God, she could be so exasperating. Of course, she was also
right. He had been intentionally snide. Unnecessarily. And unbidden
came again an image of Scully bursting into the witness' bedroom
while the man was engaged in the 'wild thing'. And the irritation was
replaced by a lightness of spirit. He turned back to his partner, then
moved around in the seat so he could face her a bit better. Draped his
left arm over the back of his seat and the right on the dash.
"So, Scully."
She looked over at him warily. Obviously not trusting the tone.
"What?"
Mulder tilted his head back so it rested against the window, pulled his
right hand up and ran it over his mouth, then down to his throat. And
in his most suggestive voice, said, "When you burst in on poor Mr.
Andrews? What were you wearing?"
*******************************************
Tuesday, 11:48 a.m.
Somewhere in Virginia
Mulder leaned back in the booth as he set down the tray. Rubbed his
left arm gingerly before speaking.
"I think it's gonna bruise, Scully. Did you have to hit me that hard?"
The guy who said a picture was worth a thousand words must have
had this moment in mind. The glare was exquisite. Definitely her best
work. And the response was succinct, short and sweet. Just like
Scully.
"Yes."
Mulder pulled the file out from under the Big Mac and fries, moved it
to a clear spot in the middle of the table and flipped open the first page.
He sent a conciliatory grin across the table.
"Let's talk about this, okay?"
The arched brow was sufficient. He was forgiven.
"So what do you think, Scully?"
She tilted her head slightly to glance at the note Donovan had written.
Skinner had given her a copy of the file, right down to the personal
note. She'd spent much of the previous afternoon reading through the
file and familiarizing herself with the case. She sighed heavily, and
started pulling the cover off her salad.
"I'm not willing to dismiss the possibility of an accident out of hand. I
want to check into it. Reinvestigate it as a possibility. Same goes for a
terrorist action. Until we see the site and speak with the manager, as
well as Donovan, I'm not willing to throw out anything as a
possibility."
Mulder nodded in agreement. Then pulled out another file. He
rummaged through it until he found the pertinent page. It was a
computer aided drawing of the plant layout, with a dotted line drawn
around what was termed the cold box.
He turned it so his partner could see more clearly, then asked, "Are you
familiar with these air separation plants? Have you ever seen one
before?"
She shook her head so he continued to explain.
"They take in air, then separate it into its constituent components --
oxygen, nitrogen, argon, whatever -- with different degrees of purity.
It gets sold to all sorts of places, including hospitals. The actual
separation takes place in what's called the cold box, because it occurs at
cryogenic temperatures. The whole container is sealed with all these
components inside -- heat exchangers, distillation columns, pumps, I
don't know what else. The cold box can be huge, depending on what
kind of air flows are required for the plant. At least several hundred
feet tall and often fourteen or more feet wide at the base."
Mulder paused to see whether she was following. He'd spent most of
the night reading up on these plants so felt reasonably comfortable with
his own understanding. Scully nodded to him, indicating he should
continue. He grabbed a quick bit of his burger, chewing quickly. He
was starving. A sip of iced tea washed it down nicely.
"So, anyway, once they build the plant, they fill the empty space in the
cold box with this stuff called pearlite, which is a type of insulation
material. Then the whole thing is sealed. If something goes wrong
with one of the components, the pearlite has to be drained out and they
get in through an access panel somewhere. Hugely expensive. It can
take weeks and the entire time the plant's offline."
Scully was getting bored. He didn't blame her. It was a story only a
chemical engineer could really love. Time to bring it home.
"So to avoid having to go through this whenever there's a problem,
this particular plant was equipped with a remote diagnostic and
correction system. It had limited abilities to autonomously fix things
that were wrong inside the coldbox."
Scully's eyes fixed on him and he knew she appreciated his point.
"Autonomous, as in it could think for itself? Like an AI?"
Both agents flashed back several months to Mulder's torture in a virtual
reality nightmare orchestrated by an artificial intelligence that had gotten
loose on the web.
"Not this time, Scully. Not an AI. But something along those lines,
with much more limited abilities. A robotic diagnostic system,
programmed by something called a Genetic Algorithm."
Scully just nodded to her partner. She didn't understand about the
hardware or software he'd mentioned. But she knew what he was
thinking. Knew he was as intrigued by the thought as she was. Their
distrust, of late, of anything computer oriented had taken on almost
paranoid proportions. But, paranoia was, after all, merely heightened
consciousness. She planned to be particularly conscious of this system
during the investigation.
*******************************************
Tuesday, 1:12 p.m.
Police Headquarters
Hampton, Virginia
Mulder and Scully paused just inside the doors to the police
headquarters. Both searched the foyer of the building, noting the lack
of any people. A hallway to the right led to a help desk some fifteen
feet away while a hallway to the left led to offices. Around the walls
were plastic chairs, forming a small waiting area. They'd spoken with
Rick Donovan by phone, had already requested more information on
the sensing system, and had confirmed that they'd meet him at the
police headquarters, but weren't sure exactly where. Mulder glanced
down at his partner, eyebrows raised.
"What do you say? Do we wait here or go introduce ourselves?"
Scully paused, considering carefully before answering. Dealing with
local law enforcement was always a tricky proposition. The police
often felt threatened, often believed their competence was being
questioned with the intrusion of federal agents. Turf wars weren't
uncommon. And Scully had no desire to become embroiled in one
now. She folded arms across her chest and glanced around once more,
then turned to her partner.
"Maybe we should wait for just a bit. Agent Donovan said he'd be
here to introduce us to the officers involved in the investigation. Let's
give him a chance."
Mulder merely smiled and moved to a bank of plastic chairs across the
foyer, then sank into one slowly. He crossed his right leg over the
other, and stretched his arms across the backs of the chairs on either
side, then looked over at his partner.
"So, what do you think we should do first?"
Scully moved over to him, then sat down a couple chairs away from
her partner, to his right.
"I'd like to see the site, of course. Speak with the officers who were
running the scene. And Dr. Handley. I'd really like to find out more
about this diagnostic system."
Mulder nodded. She'd just run down his list, item for item. He turned
his body slightly to the right to look at her straight on, then rested his
head back, against the wall.
"What's your impression of Handley?"
A detailed file had been compiled on the man since he'd originally been
a prime suspect. Although he'd been cleared of all responsibility in the
explosion, his company hadn't yet reassigned him. He was officially
on a paid leave of absence. Scully thought about what she knew of the
man before answering.
"He seems very sharp. Competent. Experienced even though still
young. Evidently well-liked by his employees. His reputation
suggests he's honorable and trustworthy."
Mulder nodded as she came to a stop in her narrative. Everything
they'd read confirmed that Dr. Robert Handley was a good manager,
perfectly suited to run such a sophisticated plant. Mulder didn't see
him as a suspect and neither did Scully. In fact, Mulder pitied him.
The man's career was most likely over, regardless of the fact he'd been
cleared of any complicity in the disaster. Mulder knew he'd never be
able to shed the stigma of being in charge when more than a hundred
lives were lost.
Mulder rolled his head first one way then the other, slowly stretching
out tense muscles, then leaned back against the wall once more. He
closed his eyes, breathed deeply, and thought of Bob Handley again.
The man had no control over what was happening to him. What had
happened to him. He was a pawn in life's game, just as Mulder was.
Just as Scully was. Maybe everyone was. Maybe no one had any
control. It was an illusion only, an illusion aimed at keeping the terror
at bay.
Jesus, he didn't want to start down that path again. Mulder opened his
eyes and jerked upright, standing quickly. He noticed his partner move
slightly to his right, and knew he'd surprised her. He glanced down at
his watch, wondering how long they should wait around for Donovan,
then took four long strides to the entrance. The entire wall was glass,
as were the doors. Evidently trying to send a signal that this was a safe
place, open and friendly. What a joke. Mulder knew there were no
safe places. Nowhere.
He stopped about a foot away from the glass panes and stared out, into
the gray day. Clouds had been gathering for hours and finally started
to make their presence known. As he watched, rain fell from the sky,
first as small, widely scattered drops and finally as a violent downpour.
The occasional bursts of wind blew the water in almost horizontal
sheets that slammed against the doors and wall, causing the glass to
rattle noisily. Rivulets of water found their way down the glass,
streaming, weaving, winding their way from top to bottom, unable to
fight gravity's pull.
Mulder focused on one stream, head tilted slightly to the left. He put
his right hand to the glass and followed the drop down, from shoulder
height to waist, forefinger tracing the uneven path. The drop of water
had no control either. Had no control as it fell spiraling from the sky,
as it was grabbed by the wind and thrown against the glass, ripped
from the drops that had originally surrounded it, as it was forced to
take this winding path due to almost unseen obstacles that served to
prevent it from moving in a straight line. And finally it dropped away,
out of sight, to join a puddle made by all the other drops that had no
control. And he stood staring at the ground, at the collection of water
that pooled there, unmoving but with his heart unaccountably beating
hard and fast. And he was trembling slightly and struggling to breathe.
He felt a hand on his arm and was pulled from his reverie. Pulled from
the dark place he seemed to reside in much too often lately. And Scully
was there beside him, worried expression painted across her beautiful
face. And she was speaking to him, had been speaking, but he didn't
know what she'd said. He shook his head slightly, in confusion, in
despair. And heard her soft words finally. And they made sense to
him.
"Mulder, please tell me what you're thinking. Let me help."
And he saw the tears in her eyes and the lone drop that fell. It rolled
down her face, slowly, as if seeking the best path. And Mulder felt his
hand move once more, almost on its own, to repeat the movement
made on the glass door only a moment ago. He reached his hand to her
face and traced the path of the drop, then gently wiped the tear away.
Over this he had some control. He could set his partner's mind at rest.
He could let her know he was all right. But his voice betrayed him,
and the name came out as a strangled whisper.
"Scully."
He swallowed, breathed deeply and decided he was in better control.
"Scully, I'm all right. Really."
And his voice sounded stronger this time. Sounded almost like him.
He cupped her chin for a moment, then ran his hand up to move a stray
strand of hair back, out of her face. Then he saw his hand stroke her
cheek once more and realized again, with a certainty born of
desperation, that this woman was precious beyond life to him. And the
knowledge spurred him to tell her the truth, to give her a piece of
himself, as if it were the only gift he had to give her. The only thing
left of any worth to either of them. And his voice was once again a
mere whisper, made harsh by his own unshed tears.
"No. I'm sorry. I'm not all right. I haven't been all right for a long
time. But I'm trying to deal with it. I'm trying, Scully. For both of
us."
And his thumb tracked another tear down her cheek, brushed it away
carefully, lovingly. God how he loved this woman. This woman who
was his best friend. His lifeline to sanity. The only person in the
world he could trust. And his heart almost hurt in his chest at the
intensity of the emotion that threatened to overwhelm him. But he
moved gently when he wrapped his arms around her and held her to
him. He felt her arms circling him tightly, heard her sniff, almost
daintily. And he smiled slightly when he whispered into her ear.
"The truth will save me, Scully."
She looked up at him and smiled. It was a beautiful sight that filled
him with hope, unaccountably. And her voice was almost playful
when she replied.
"The truth will save us both, Mulder."
She hugged him once more hard, tight, as if afraid that if she loosened
her grip he'd slip away from her. Then she took his hand and led him
over to the bank of chairs once more, sitting next to him. She still held
his right hand in both of hers and he didn't object. Didn't try to pull
away. Didn't try to put up walls. Best friends didn't need walls.
She'd reminded him of that in her own Scully-like way. Mulder sighed
and sat back against the chair, relaxing in the quiet. For once, not
impatient with the waiting.
*******************************************
Ten minutes later, the doors were thrown open wide, then shut hastily
by a man drenched from head to foot. He had neither umbrella or
overcoat and appeared particularly displeased by his present situation.
Dressed in a dark brown suit with what was obviously once a crisp
white shirt and fashionable silk tie, he was still the picture of
professionalism. He was perhaps a few years older then Mulder, quite
tall and extremely thin, seeming to have been stretched a bit too much
during puberty's tenure.
The man caught sight of the two people across the foyer and smiled at
them, despite the irritation and discomfort he had to be experiencing
due to his soaked condition. He walked towards them, while
simultaneously attempting to shake water off his arms and legs. Both
Mulder and Scully stood, recognizing that this could be none other than
Agent Donovan.
"Hi. You must be Agents Mulder and Scully. I'm sorry for being late.
I made the mistake of trying to go through the tunnel. You never want
to do that on a day when there's a thunderstorm threatening. People
panic. Always a pile-up."
He reached his hand towards Scully first, shaking firmly. Then
offered his grip to Mulder. Mulder took it, quickly deciding this guy
was okay. He seemed sincere in his greeting. It was a different
experience for Mulder, so used to derision and scorn.
"Agent Donovan. Good to meet you, sir."
The man laughed and shook his head.
"No sir needed. If anything, I think you outrank me."
Donovan glanced around and gestured off the left hallway.
"Come on. I'll introduce you to a couple of the detectives who were
running the case. They know we're coming. And I'll show you where
the coffee is."
Mulder waited for Scully to precede him, placing a hand at her back to
guide her. To protect her. To let her know he was close. All these
things and more. Donovan looked back over his shoulder at them as
they followed him into the hallway.
"Agent Mulder, I apologize if it seems I went over your head. I didn't
intend to force you into something you weren't interested in. It's just
that I felt it would be irresponsible of me to ignore this. I had to alert
AD Skinner to the possibility that an error had been made with this
case. I figured he would best know how to handle it from there."
The man seemed utterly sincere and for once, Mulder felt no anger at
being forced into a case against his will. He'd read the file last night
and been intrigued. If anything, he should thank this man for
providing a case he could throw himself into.
"It's fine. No problem."
Donovan stopped at a door marked simply, 'Detectives'. Knocked
quickly and opened the door without even waiting for a response. The
room was large, open and cluttered with the personal and professional
items of some ten or so detectives. There were about four men in the
room at present, and all turned to look at the new arrivals. Two men to
the right stood and started over towards them, smiles on their faces.
They evidently liked Donovan.
"Hey, Rick. How are you? Looks like you forgot about what spring
in Hampton can be like."
The agent smiled good-naturedly and shook both extended hands then
waved to the two DC agents standing behind him.
"Mark Saunders, Dillon Scott, I'd like you to meet Agents Mulder and
Scully. They're the ones I told you about."
Saunders and Scott were an interesting pair. Saunders was in his late
thirties perhaps, black, an inch or so shy of six foot, heavily built but
in obviously good shape -- weightlifter shape. His slightly older
partner appeared completely out of place on the east coast, sporting
bleached-blonde hair and a tan that made him almost as dark as his
partner. Scott stood just a tad taller than Mulder and shared Mulder's
own lanky body shape.
After introductions all around, the detectives turned back to Donovan.
Saunders gestured to the door, then said, "Should we go to the
conference room?"
Donovan nodded and turned back to the DC agents to explain.
"We had a temporary command center set up here the first several
weeks after the explosion. A couple weeks ago, the Bureau pulled out,
headed back to Richmond. Mark and Dillon have maintained
everything here at my request. Sort of ... quiet-like."
Mulder's estimation of this agent suddenly grew. He couldn't help
feeling he'd found a kindred spirit in the man's approach to getting
around the bureaucracy so prevalent in law enforcement. A small smile
played at Mulder's lips as he nodded in understanding. A glance at
Scully revealed that she recognized the parallels. Mulder gestured
towards the door and said merely, "Lead on."
The conference room was about twenty feet by fifteen feet with a large
table dominating the center. Along two of the room's sides were stacks
of boxes, piled on top of one another to create shoulder-high walls of
cardboard and paper. Each box was clearly marked with an
alphanumeric string of seven characters, accompanied by a date and a
scrawled signature. Along one of the short sides of the room was a
wall full of photos and maps, papers and other small items of
importance. The other long wall was nothing but glass windows.
The blinds were open wide and it was obvious that the sun was trying
hard to break through the stubborn clouds. Dillon Scott walked into
the room first and headed directly to the windows. He turned back to
his partner and grinned. Jerked his head to indicate the weather.
"A good day for windsurfing."
Saunders merely shook his head, in congenial disgust and looked back
at the other three.
"The man's a fanatic. He's one of those people who pray for a
hurricane so he can get some good wind."
The atmosphere in the room was light as they sat finally at the table,
and Mulder realized that he had been missing this. Hadn't really
experienced it in six or seven years. The easy, friendly camaraderie
with peers, with colleagues who respected you. And suddenly Mulder
was consumed with guilt at the realization that it was his quest, his
obsessive search that was responsible for denying Scully this kind of
experience. This could be her life, would have been her life if not for
him. He turned to look at his partner and was surprised to find her
staring at him, a knowing smile resting easily on her lips. He didn't
know how she did it. Didn't understand how she could possibly know
him so well. And her look bathed him in its intensity, wrapped him in
its soft cocoon, and left him feeling warm and secure in the knowledge
that she regretted none of it.
He smiled then, a genuine smile that lit his face. And watched as his
partner engaged the other men in the room in easy conversation,
allowing him time enough to gather his thoughts and regain a
composure that had been too easily lost the last couple weeks.
*******************************************
Tuesday, 6:47 p.m.
Hampton, Police Headquarters Conference Room
Scully looked up from the file she'd been reading and glanced around
the room to take in the condition of the other occupants. They'd been
reviewing case files for the past four hours or so and she was sure her
eyes were starting to cross. She needed a break, even if Mulder or
Donovan didn't. Her partner had barely spoken the entire time. Had
only broken the silence to ask Donovan an occasional clarification
question. Donovan had been in and out of the room the entire time.
He was, after all, intimately familiar with the files spread across the
table and throughout the room. But the man sat now at the far end of
the table, seemingly absorbed in the stack of papers in front of him.
Scully had been reading through the various summary reports that had
been compiled during the five week long investigation into the
explosion. She and Mulder had developed a process of exchange that
had somehow managed to make sense to both of them. Another file
slid across the table and stopped in front of her when it hit the one she
was presently reading. She turned slightly in her seat to give her
partner an irritated look but discovered he wasn't watching. Had slid
the file over without even looking up, probably.
She glanced at her watch and decided a break was in order. Maybe she
could even get Mulder to agree. Scully sat tall in the chair and twisted
one way, then the other, slowly, methodically, trying to stretch out her
back. As much as she hated the hours spent standing during an
autopsy, this was worse. This sitting for hours at a time while your
eyes started crossing out of sheer weariness, while they started to
water, causing vision to blur, causing the head to pound. While the
back tightened, the neck tensed. And as much as she hated it, she
knew her partner actually liked it. Or at least he seemed to. He
somehow managed to sublimate all discomfort, all outside distractions,
and focus on the words, the photos, the reports. And then pull
together the diverse and seemingly unrelated bits and pieces of data and
information into a story that made sense. A theory whose veracity
could then be explored. It was this talent that made him envied and
admired throughout the Bureau. But it was his involvement with the
X-Files that often made him a laughingstock.
She shook her head slightly, raised her hands to rub at her eyes.
Gods, she was tired. She pushed back the chair and stood, noting that
Donovan, at the far end of the table, looked up immediately while her
partner, who was only some five feet away, didn't even blink. She
quickly flipped the cover of the file closed and then leaned forward on
the table, arms straight, palms flat. Her legs and butt were killing her
from sitting so long in one position and it helped to stretch out a bit.
Scully stood straight finally, propping her hands on hips, and stared at
her partner. She wondered idly how long she would have to stare at
him before he'd actually notice her, but then discarded the thought of
the experiment. What was the point, after all? She sent a glance to
Donovan who'd been watching both of them ever since her movement
a few moments ago, then turned back to her partner.
"Mulder. I need a break. Let's go get something to eat."
Watching him in profiler mode was always fascinating, but could also
be disconcerting. The focus of his attention, his concentration, was as
intense as anything she'd ever seen. But it could also be nearly
impossible to break. She hoped this wouldn't be one of those times.
He hadn't moved at her words. Hadn't acknowledged that he'd heard
her. She moved around the table to stand next to him and rested her
left hand on his shoulder. She spoke more loudly this time and
squeezed his shoulder as she said his name. Her partner always
seemed to respond to her touch more readily than to her voice.
"Mulder. Come on, I need a break."
She felt the slight jerk of his shoulders more than she saw it. But then
his head moved, raised from the file in front of him. She saw the eyes
blink, slowly, as if in response to a mechanical input, and then the head
turned to the right -- back and up, and her partner stared at her. Stared
without really seeing at first. But then it was obvious that he did
indeed see her. His shoulders relaxed, his head tilted to the left just a
bit, and a small smile found its way to his face. Scully was glad to see
it. She was always glad to see it. She squeezed his shoulder once
more, then repeated herself, just in case he hadn't heard her.
"I need a break. It's been more than four hours. I can't see straight
anymore."
Mulder nodded and glanced back down at the file he'd been staring at,
rifling through the pages with his fingers. Scully could see a schematic
of the plant laid out to her partner's left. Could see the report on the
plant's cold box components and the remote sensing system lying open
in front of him. Off to the right was a picture of Handley, the plant
manager. She looked down the table to Donovan and was slightly
embarrassed at the realization that he'd been watching their interactions,
silently. Waiting, no doubt, for the infamous Spooky to speak. To
start spouting off theories. And then Scully was embarrassed for a
completely different reason when he smiled at her kindly and she knew
she'd sold him short. She cleared her throat before speaking again.
"Agent Donovan, are you planning on heading back to Richmond
tonight or will you be staying?"
The man's eyes slid to Mulder only briefly before he responded.
Scully couldn't help but wonder what he was thinking.
"I think I'll stay. It would be best if I were around when you speak
with Handley. I'll introduce you tomorrow."
Donovan stood and started stacking files, trying to create some order to
the mess. Scully saw that her partner was starting to move finally, was
stacking his own files, as if in imitation of Donovan's own
movements. She decided to help and was a bit surprised to hear
Mulder's voice break through the silence.
"Rick, I need that information on the remote sensing and correction
system. The report in the file doesn't give much detail on it. Were you
able to get someone working on it?"
Scully was only slightly surprised at her partner's use of the other
agent's first name. She recognized it to be an indication of Mulder's
respect for the man and was pleased that, for once, they'd be able to get
through a case without having to battle antagonism and hostility.
Donovan looked up from his piles, evidently surprised by the change in
topic, but not too thrown by it.
"Yeah, Dillon's working on it. I think he can track something down
for you. I have to admit we didn't spend a lot of time on it, but we did
spend enough to know there was no failure of the sensing equipment.
I'll tell you what, though, let me see if he's still here and I'll ask him to
rush it. Should be ready by tomorrow."
"Thank you. That would be great."
Scully watched as Donovan left the room, then turned her gaze back to
her partner. He wasn't looking at her, was instead sorting through the
files, creating three different piles. She knew the way his mind
worked, knew how he operated during similar cases, and she had, in
fact, begun to create the same piles on her side of the table. Important,
possibly important, not important. The only problem was, sometimes
they didn't agree on what went where. She'd sort through his discard
pile tomorrow and he'd sort through hers. They'd done it before.
They'd do it again. For now, though, she gathered the important files
and brought them to her briefcase. Started stuffing them in, even as
her partner did the same with his stack. She wasn't surprised to notice
that his stack of important files was much smaller than hers.
She moved the other files to the center of the table, watched as her
partner did the same, all in silence. There was no need for speech
between them. There would be time for words later. Now it was time
to distance themselves a bit, to give them both time to breathe and relax
before starting all over again. Before immersing themselves in the
minutiae that would hopefully lead them to answers when interpreted
correctly.
Scully picked her soft-sided briefcase up, off the table, and slung it
over her shoulder carefully. Her partner was beside her, his own
briefcase stuffed to overflowing in his right hand. The buckles
hanging loose, unable to connect to their partner straps. She saw
Mulder raise his left hand to brush the hair out of his face and caught
sight of the tape that still bound his two smallest fingers together. It
reminded her suddenly of how very close he'd come just a few weeks
ago to losing his life. How close he'd been just a couple weeks ago, as
he lay helpless in that hospital bed. How close they'd both come to
losing each other.
She looked up to search her partner's face and was shocked to see the
small lines that creased his forehead, that framed his eyes. The
strands, here and there, of white hair that stood out starkly against the
dark. It had been a difficult year for them both. A trying year of
hardship and loss, doubt and uncertainty. And the upheavals were far
from over. But Scully prayed they'd survive them as they had in the
past. By trusting in each other.
She smiled at him and took his left hand in her right, squeezing gently.
Ran her fingers lightly over the tape.
"How about something to eat before we check into the hotel?"
"Okay. That's fine."
She was shocked at the weariness so evident in his movements and in
his words. She knew it went beyond mere physical tiredness. That his
battle against despair had worn him down bit by bit. Had been wearing
him down for months. And she'd been helpless to do anything about
it. Maybe it was time to force the conversation. They'd gone too long
allowing each other to get away with meaningless 'I'm fines'. It was
time for them to deal with the situation head on.
*******************************************
Tuesday, 8:12 p.m.
Hampton, Restaurant
Rick had shown them to a restaurant just down the street from the hotel
and had decided to join them at the last minute. It had been a relatively
quiet dinner, although the older agent had entertained the two with
stories from Skinner's early days as an ASAC in Chicago. Plates had
been pushed back several minutes before and Mulder was now getting
antsy. He was ready to get to work again for a couple hours.
Mulder took a last sip of his iced tea and then started to make getting-
ready-to-leave noises. He could see that Scully was also starting to
shift around impatiently. Donovan got the hint and stood, saying, "I
think I'll turn in now. You guys are all set on where the hotel is,
right?"
Mulder nodded quickly before replying.
"Yep. We're heading out now, too. We'll be right behind you."
As the agents headed for the front door, Mulder remembered a loose
end. Donovan was ahead of him and Scully by a couple paces.
Mulder strode just a tad more quickly to avoid the need to raise his
voice too loudly.
"Rick, were you able to get someone checking on the sensing device
for us?"
Donovan slowed a step and turned back to them, waiting for Mulder to
catch up to him.
"Actually, Saunders was still there. He said he'd get to work on it
from this end, but I also sent a request through the Richmond Bureau
office. They'll have something for us tomorrow. I think you
mentioned you'd like to check in with some of the investigators there
anyway, right?"
They were at the front entrance finally and Mulder reached out to open
the door for both Rick and Scully. He nodded as the older agent
walked through and then found his hand straying once more to his
partner's back as she preceded him through the door. He decided not
to think about it overly much.
"I think we'll probably be heading there tomorrow after lunch. That
sound right, Scully?"
She flashed a smile his way and turned to Donovan.
"I think that should give us enough time. Will you be returning to the
office then also?"
Donovan stopped in the middle of the parking lot to consider the
question, turning back slightly so he could face her better.
"I hadn't really thought about it, but if you're leaving here tomorrow,
there's really no reason for me to stay. Not unless you have something
you want me to do that requires my presence here."
Both agents turned to Mulder then to get his impressions. But Mulder
stood some five or so feet behind them, turned towards the western
sky, obviously not paying any attention to the conversation of the last
minute or so.
For his part, as soon as he stepped out of the restaurant, Mulder had
been stricken by the sight of the sky above. For as long as he could
remember, his first action upon leaving a building or any type of
enclosed place was to look up, into the expanse of blue. The sun and
moon were like reliable friends to him, constants in an uncertain world.
But tonight was something he hadn't seen for years. The storm had
cleared hours ago, leaving behind only a few clouds scattered across
the otherwise clear sky. It was truly beautiful. Worthy of a minute or
two appreciation at the very least.
The view was one that could have been painted by a master .... or a
child. The sun was an orange ball of fire in the sky -- Crayola red-
orange. He remembered it well. It didn't look real. It hung in the
darkening sky, hung just over the tree-line, a thin bank of clouds
cutting a ribbon of black out of the sphere. And he could see it setting.
It had actually moved while he stood watching. Moved in a slow dance
of power and elegance, displaying its quiet dominance for all who
would take the time to see.
And Mulder relished the moment, knowing that for today at least, he'd
been given this gift. He held the view firmly in his mind, tucked it
away in his memory for safe keeping to be brought out when the
darkness threatened. It was a reminder that even at the end, there's
hope for a beginning. That the setting sun only meant the rising was
that much closer.
Mulder felt her presence before she even placed her hand on his arm.
He knew without looking that Scully was there, beside him, following
the setting sun with her own eyes. He turned his head to look down at
her and took in her profile. Noted the soft glints in her hair that
reflected the last few rays of the day. And he committed this also to
memory, a talisman against future despair. She turned to look at him
and the smile she sent his way lifted a weight from his heart. Yes, it
was a precious gift he'd been given this day.
*******************************************
Tuesday, 10:38 p.m.
Hampton, Mercury Hotel
Mulder knew it was time to stop. He just couldn't concentrate any
more. The words had long ago become meaningless and reading them
over and over again was serving no purpose. He was stretched out on
one of the beds in Scully's room, lying on his side, head propped on
raised elbow with files scattered in front of him. He allowed his head
to drop down on his left arm and closed his eyes. The bedspread was
smooth under his hand, against his cheek. It was peaceful here. The
room smelled of Scully. Of her belongings, of her perfume, of her
shampoo. And the sounds were soothing. He could hear Scully
breathing over at the desk. Could hear the soft whisper of the air
conditioning coming from the vent by the ceiling across the room. He
could hear water running through pipes in the room next door. And the
beating of his own heart provided a backdrop for it all.
He moved his right arm up, and slipped the back of his hand under his
cheek to create a little pillow. The day's growth of beard was rough
against his hand, but somehow comforting. This was comfortable.
And safe. He didn't hear Scully pushing back from the desk five
minutes later. Didn't hear as she started moving around the room,
returning files to their respective briefcases. Didn't hear her sigh as she
stood over him, staring down at his sleeping form.
*******************************************
Scully realized the noise of crinkling paper that had accompanied
flipped pages for the past couple hours had stopped. She turned to
look behind her, taking in the sight of her partner fast asleep,
surrounded by paper, photos, and files. He looked like a little kid,
with his hand tucked under his cheek that way. Innocent, oblivious,
peaceful. It brought a smile to her face as she stood to clean up the
room a bit. She repacked all the files and then found herself standing
by the side of the bed, staring down at her partner. They still hadn't
talked and it looked like it was going to be delayed yet again. She
didn't have the heart to wake him now. Especially not to grill him
about his recent frame of mind.
He'd already kicked off his shoes and taken off his tie. Rolled up his
sleeves and unfastened several buttons. He was obviously comfortable
enough to fall asleep in the first place, so Scully decided he'd probably
be fine to leave as he was, even though he was still dressed. The one
concession she made to trying to make him more comfortable was to
work his belt free of his waist.
Scully pulled the covers down on the other bed and yanked off the
blanket, then covered him with it, carefully, so she wouldn't wake
him. He never moved a muscle. She pulled out one of the pillows and
placed it just above his head so that if he wanted it, it would be close to
hand. She smoothed back an errant strand of hair that had to have been
itching him and whispered 'sweet dreams, Mulder'. Then she gathered
her night clothes and toiletries, turned off the lights and went into her
partner's room, making sure to leave the door between the two rooms
propped open.
*******************************************
Wednesday, 3:21 a.m.
Hampton, Mercury Hotel
Mulder woke with a start, unsure initially where he was, when it was,
and why he was there. As his eyes slowly became accustomed to his
surroundings, it began to sink in that he'd evidently taken over Scully's
room. A glance at the clock by the bed revealed that it was early
morning, with several hours to go before any thought of going to work
would be possible. He pushed himself up on the bed and rolled to a
sitting position, then swung his legs off the side. He rested his feet on
the floor for a moment, appreciating the feel of the thick carpet on his
bare feet. He tried to decide just how tired he was. Whether he'd
actually be able to go back to sleep or not.
Mulder decided while he was still tired, he was too restless to go
directly back to sleep. He couldn't sit anymore. He stood but didn't
know where to go at first. It wasn't like there were very many options.
A little shaft of moonlight shone through the closed curtains and fell
across the floor, pointing at an angle, off towards the connecting door
between the two rooms. Mulder smiled at the image of the arrow
pointing the way.
He carefully walked towards the cracked door and swung it open, then
pushed the door on the other side open as well. He took a step into the
room and stopped, searching out his partner's form. He needed to see
her. To see that she was all right. She was in the bed nearest to him,
lying on her side, curled around what looked to be a pillow. It was
difficult to tell because the covers were pulled up so far, he could
barely even see her face. In fact, it wasn't clear how she was even
managing to get oxygen.
He smiled at the sight of her, looking so young and innocent. So
carefree. And marveled again as he had so often in the past, at the
intellect and courage that resided in such a small and delicate vessel.
He took a few steps closer to kneel at her side, then put his right hand
up to brush away the few strands of hair that hung in her face. Mulder
stroked her forehead lightly, then ran his hand across her hair one final
time. She was dearer than life to him. He knew this, even if he hadn't
ever told her. Without her, he was nothing. An empty shell of a man.
She completed him. Filled the emptiness in his life.
Mulder put his hands on the bed in the empty space next to her. He
folded them carefully, gently, so as not to cause the bed to shift in any
way. Then he leaned forward and rested his head on his hands, on his
forearms, and closed his eyes, as if in prayer. There was a stillness
here. A stillness because of her. Because of Scully. Because of her
very presence. And the stillness surrounded him, encompassed him
with its gentle caress, sang through him and comforted him. This was
a time for stillness. A time to let sorrow and grief go, if only for a
while.
Mulder breathed deeply, and held it for a heartbeat, two, three, then let
it go. Breathed again, deep. Then again. He opened his eyes and
turned his head to the right, still resting on his folded hands. He could
see the top of her head, could see her hair, shining in the dark stillness
of the room. She was there with him, and she wouldn't leave him.
He raised his head, then, feeling renewed -- replenished without even
knowing why. The why didn't matter. Mulder pushed himself up,
away from the bed to stand. He took a step back and stopped, unable
to take his eyes away from the sight of his partner, his friend. His one
in five billion. He turned and left the room as quietly as he'd entered.
He'd see her in the morning. And perhaps, just maybe, they'd talk.
*******************************************
Wednesday, 8:24 a.m.
Hampton, Mercury Hotel Restaurant
Mulder stared down at the plates that littered the table, amazed at how
much wreckage the three of them had managed to create in such a short
period of time. Rick Donovan had joined them for breakfast and
Mulder was more sure than ever now that the man was not only a good
agent, but a good guy. And a funny one. The man had a knack for
storytelling that was incredibly entertaining. Mulder couldn't
remember the last time he'd laughed so much. He glanced to his left to
see a smile still lingering on Scully's face, as well. It looked good on
her and suddenly he was consumed with the desire to live a life in
which they could both smile, easily and often. And he sobered at the
thought that it wasn't possible. At least for now.
Scully glanced over at him and froze for a heartbeat. Mulder carefully
pasted the smile back on and turned to Donovan again. No need to ruin
Scully's morning with his own insecurities. He was just about to
suggest they head out when he felt his partner's light touch on his
knee. He understood what it meant. Understood she was telling him it
was all right. That she was there. That she was his partner and that
she didn't regret it. As always, her touch was healing, and chased
away the impending heaviness from his heart, keeping the blackness at
bay.
*******************************************
Wednesday, 9:07 a.m.
Poquoson, Robert Handley Residence
Mulder was out of the car first and quickly moved to open the back
passenger door for his partner. Donovan exited and walked to the
sidewalk, waiting on the two DC agents before heading to the house.
Scully got out of the car and nodded thanks to her partner, then looked
around the neighborhood. It was a quiet residential street ending in a
cul de sac. The two story houses were predominantly brick. Boats
could be seen in about a third of the driveways, testament to the
proximity to both the Tidal Basin and Atlantic ocean. Well-kept yards,
toys scattered throughout the neighborhood, children yelling in
rambunctious play. It was obvious this was mostly a family oriented
place. As she had so often in the past, Scully recognized that this was
the way an extremely large number of people lived. Houses, families,
weekends on the boat.
Scully sighed heavily and moved to follow the two men who stood
patiently waiting for her. Mulder closed the car door and allowed her
to move in front of him. She focused finally on the house they were
approaching. Compared to the others, it was a bit unkempt. The yard
hadn't been cut in a while. A small tricycle was tipped on its side and
was mostly hidden in the thick green carpet. A ski boat sat to the far
side of the driveway, a for sale sign haphazardly displayed. The
garage door was open and piles of garbage bags could be seen stacked
to one side, near the inner door to the house. Apparently they just
hadn't been brought out to the curb.
Scully made her way up the stairs to the porch, noting the piles of
newspapers that had never been brought inside. She glanced back at
her partner, wondering how he would interpret the general disorder that
surrounded them. Mulder was turned sideways, standing on the top
step, looking out into the yard at an abandoned child's bike, pink with
a white basket and pink and white tassels hanging from the handle
bars. His expression caused her breath to catch, caused her to reach
out without even thinking, to take hold of his arm. She didn't care
about the fact that Donovan stood next to her, watching. Couldn't care
less what he might think of her gesture. He wasn't important to her.
But her partner was. And right now, she could see that Mulder was
once more fighting for control, as he had so often over the past weeks.
She could see the rapid breathing, the sweat that glistened slightly on
his forehead, the hands that clenched into fists, then released slowly.
Dammit, why did he have to personalize everything? Her voice was
soft and concerned when she spoke to him.
"Mulder, are you okay?"
She saw him jerk slightly, then turn to stare at her, eyes filled with
despair. She knew what he saw when he looked at Handley's house,
at the man's yard, at his life. Her partner saw a promising career
ended. He saw a family disjointed, falling apart. He saw a life whose
worth could be considered severely impacted, depending on the metrics
used. He saw a man with nothing. He saw himself. And it had once
more filled him with hopelessness.
Scully squeezed his arm again, then took his hand in hers. She took
another step closer and leaned against his arm just slightly. He needed
to know that he wasn't alone, that he had more than nothing. He had
her. He had her friendship, her companionship, her trust.
"Mulder, please. It'll be all right. It will."
She could see him struggle for a brief time before letting go finally.
His shoulders slumped, and his head followed, dropping onto his
chest. Her partner closed his eyes for a moment, then leaned into her,
as if to gain strength from her presence. She could feel him breathe
deeply, could hear the almost explosive release. Then he spoke, his
words soft, meant only for her. His eyes now intent on her face.
"It's okay. I'm okay."
She saw him swallow hard, then lick his lips. She knew he wanted to
say something else. Was fighting with himself, trying to overcome his
need to keep it to himself. She knew it. And he finally managed the
words.
"It's like a wave sometimes, crashing over me. And I can't ...." Her
partner paused for a moment and shook his head sharply, looked away
from her face and down at his feet before going on. "I can't fight it.
All I can do is give into it and hope ... that eventually it'll let go of me.
That it'll let go and leave me in control again."
His eyes were once more on her face, beseeching, hoping for
understanding. And Scully did understand. She understood that even
while she had been rediscovering her own faith, her partner had been
losing his. She understood that while she had been building new
foundations for a hopeful future, her partner's foundations had been
crumbling beneath him. Everything he had believed in, everything in
which he'd put his faith, had been called into question. And there had
been nothing else left to fill the gaping hole. Nothing to replace what
he'd lost. But she also knew that what once was lost could be found
again. And that she would do everything in her power to help him find
it.
"Mulder, you're not alone. You don't have to fight it alone. Let me
help. Let me help you find the way."
And he smiled at her then, a small, bittersweet smile. Raised his free
hand to caress her cheek for just a moment.
"You are helping. You always help. Just by being here."
Scully saw him shake his head and then pull himself up, straight and
tall. He squeezed her hand and then glanced over her shoulder. His
expression changed quickly, becoming suddenly embarrassed, contrite,
and Scully realized that Donovan had been there the entire time. She
turned to look at the older agent and was surprised to see only concern.
And confusion mixed with a heavy dose of patience. She had no doubt
the man would stand there waiting for them, no matter how long it
took.
She turned back to her partner and shook his sleeve in a friendly
gesture.
"Come on. Let's interview this guy and then we can go see the site."
Mulder nodded to her, glanced once more at the yard, then turned and
stepped up onto the porch. A breeze picked up just as he turned,
causing his tie to flip over his shoulder. Scully watched as he pulled it
back into place, and shot a wry grin her way. She stood next to him as
they waited for Donovan to ring the bell, and couldn't help wondering
what would become of Robert Handley.
After a minute of ringing the bell off and on with no response,
Donovan turned to them and shrugged.
"We could try him on the phone. Don't know where else he'd be. His
car's here. I think he's just not answering."
Scully glanced at Mulder before answering for both of them.
"Let's call. It's important that we speak with him directly."
Scully waited with Donovan and watched as her partner headed off to
the end of the porch to look in the front windows. He held a hand up
to fend off the glare and stared for a few seconds, then moved to the
next window and repeated the procedure. She looked at him
enquiringly, eyebrows raised, when he turned back to her. He shook
his head to indicate he hadn't seen anything worth reporting.
Donovan wasn't having any luck with the phone so Scully decided to
join her partner in his search around the house. She nodded to the left
indicating which direction she planned to go and he nodded back, then
headed to the right. Scully walked into the open garage and proceeded
carefully to the back wall. Despite the bright morning sun, it was dark
towards the back of the garage. Scully was five feet away from the
back wall when she saw that a cat sat by the door leading into the
house. It was staring at her, pathetically, hopefully. As if she had the
power to give it what it wanted. Well, maybe she could.
She reached out carefully and grabbed the door handle, then turned it
slowly. It wasn't locked. She remembered what happened the last
time she went barging into someone's house uninvited and paused.
Looked down at the cat, whose nose was pressed into the crack,
waiting quite impatiently for her to open the door wide. An angry
meow finally decided her and she swung the door open.
The smell assaulted her immediately. A smell with which she was well
acquainted. She reached down and grabbed the cat before it could
make it inside and pulled the door shut again. Scully took a deep
breath of the relatively clean air of the garage and then made her way
out front again. She looked right, then left and saw no sign of her
partner. Donovan was just disappearing around the far corner.
"Agent Donovan!"
He saw her and turned, then started making his way towards her.
"Where's Mulder?"
The man shook his head, gestured behind him vaguely.
"I think he's around back. I was just going to check. Why?"
"We need to call a forensics team in. We'll check first to verify, but
I'm pretty sure of what we'll find."
Donovan was staring at her, obviously confused. He shook his head
slightly to indicate he wasn't following.
"The garage entrance to the house was unlocked. I opened the door.
The smell ... well, let's just say I'm pretty sure we'll find that Dr.
Handley's been dead for several hours."
Just as Scully gestured for Donovan to follow her, Mulder came
around from the back.
"Hey, Scully, did you find anything? Most of the windows have
shades over them. I couldn't see anything from the outside."
"Actually, Mulder, I just told Rick that the door in the garage is
unlocked. I opened it and the smell suggests that Handley's dead."
Scully watched her partner carefully as he absorbed the news. She
knew he'd been identifying with the man. Knew that he'd felt sorry
for Handley. Had empathized with him. And now this. She prayed it
wasn't a suicide, although the alternative really wasn't much better.
She watched as Mulder jerked slightly at the news and then adopted his
professional curious face.
"Let's verify it before calling it in. I want to see the scene."
Donovan nodded to both of them and led the way. The cat was there
still and Mulder picked it up this time. Held it with one arm while he
stroked it with his free hand. He waited as she and Donovan entered,
then dropped the cat lightly back into the garage and entered the house,
closing the door carefully. Scully was surprised. After the numerous
cracks he'd made about Quequeg, she'd assumed her partner disliked
animals, at least those of the small fuzzy variety. The man was still a
mystery to her even after five years.
The whiff she'd caught earlier was much more pronounced as she
moved into the kitchen. The smell of decay, of putrefying flesh. The
smell of blood and urine. The smell of hours old death, exacerbated by
a closed up house in ninety degree weather with no air conditioning
running. She swallowed convulsively and fought off the gag reflex.
Scully caught up to Donovan who stood in the sunken family room,
staring at the figure on the couch. Shit, it looked like it was a suicide.
Handley lay sprawled at the far end of the couch, most of his head
splattered on the wall behind him. Blood, bone and brain matter
painted a pattern even Rorshach wouldn't have devised. The man's
arms hung loose by his sides, his legs were splayed wide, and a gun
lay in his lap, evidently having fallen there after he'd taken his life. He
wore sweat pants and a plain white T-shirt, now largely stained with
blood.
Scully glanced back at her partner, wondering how he was taking this.
He was white, completely drained of all color. Sweat coated his
forehead and his breath was coming in short, hard bursts as if he'd just
finished a run. He stood in the breakfast nook, as if unable to step
down into the same room as the body. Scully swallowed hard and
fought a rising panic. Jesus, why this? Why a case where her partner
would identify so closely with a man who killed himself? Shit!
Scully glanced at Donovan and was surprised to see that he, also, was
staring at Mulder. His gaze flicked to her then and she noted the drawn
brows, the questioning look. She shook her head, just barely. Just
enough. It didn't take a genius to understand that Mulder wasn't a
hundred percent just now. She turned back to her partner and
approached him slowly, reaching a hand out to touch his arm.
"Mulder, I don't think there's anything for us to do right now. We
need to call this in and wait for the investigative team. Let's go
outside."
His breathing had calmed and she could see him start to focus on her
finally. He shook his head as if to clear it and then stepped past her,
down into the family room.
"You call it in. I need to see the scene."
Scully shook her head in frustration and headed back out the way
they'd come in. She knew her partner would do whatever had to be
done to solve this case. She just wished he'd allow himself some time
to process it all. To put some space between himself and the victim.
Scully made her way out to the front of the house and called 911. She
mentioned that Detectives Saunders and Scott should be informed, then
signed off. She realized then that Donovan stood behind her, patiently
waiting for her to complete the call. She could guess what he wanted.
Her voice dragged with weariness when she acknowledged his
presence.
"Hi, Rick."
He took a couple steps forward and stopped next to her, smiling
kindly. He stood comfortably, easily, with arms crossed. She had to
tilt her head even farther back than usual to meet the man's eyes. She
realized once again just how tall Rick was.
"Hey, Dana."
She stared at him, one eyebrow raised, waiting patiently. He stared
back. She wondered who'd break first. She was determined that it
wouldn't be her. Rick grinned wryly when he spoke.
"So I gather that there are some personal elements here for Mulder."
He paused then for a moment, glanced down at the pavement, and
rocked back on his heels. He sighed heavily and dragged his eyes back
to hers.
"Should Mulder be working this case? I can call AD Skinner. Get you
both off the hook. I can make sure there's no blame attached. Nothing
negative in your jackets."
Scully smiled just slightly and found she was breathing easier all of a
sudden. She hadn't even realized how tense she'd been. The relief
washed through her as she internally confirmed that Donovan wasn't
the enemy. He was one of the good guys. She took a step towards
him and laid her hand lightly on his left arm in a friendly gesture. She
smiled gratefully as she responded to his suggestion.
"It's okay. But thank you. It's just been a difficult year. And the last
few months have been particularly hard."
He put his right hand over hers and squeezed slightly. Leaned down
closer and said, "If I can help -- with anything -- all you have to do is
ask. Either of you."
Scully was filled with such intense feelings of gratitude towards this
man who had claimed her and Mulder as friends. She was about to
respond when she heard a scuffle from behind them. She turned to see
Mulder, standing frozen, staring at them, mouth slightly open, one
hand raised in the air, an expression of shock and confusion painted
across his features. Before she could move, before she could say a
word, he jerked around and headed towards the back of the house.
Scully moved away from Rick Donovan and shook her head, hugged
her arms across her chest, then closed her eyes in resignation.
Dammit, she and Mulder just couldn't seem to get a break.
*******************************************
Forty-five minutes later the body of Robert Handley was prepared for
shipment to the morgue and put in the back of the coroner's van.
Scully had overseen the handling of evidence gathered at the scene and
had assisted the coroner and county investigators in a preliminary exam
of the body prior to moving it. She'd been vaguely aware of her
partner roaming the room and the house throughout the investigation.
She had occasionally heard his voice, questioning, directing in the
background. Donovan had ended up running the scene at the request
of the local detectives. Both Saunders and Scott recognized the
importance of Bureau involvement and had been quite happy to turn it
over to them.
Scully stood outside the house once more, watching the van pull out of
the driveway. There was a small crowd gathered in the street, made up
mostly of children and women, along with a few older people. This
was probably the most excitement this neighborhood had ever
experienced. She sensed that someone was standing close and turned
to see Mulder just behind her to the right. He stood with hands on
hips, pushing his suit jacket back behind him. He looked tired and
seemed to have something on his mind. She smiled in
acknowledgment, hoping he'd feel easy enough to share it with her.
"Hey, Scully. Do you have a minute? I want to show you
something."
Scully was surprised at how formal he sounded. And considerate.
Definitely unusual. She had an idea of what was bothering him.
"Sure. But Mulder, before we go in -- I think you should know that
Agent Donovan asked after you. He was concerned. He wanted me to
know that if we needed anything, either of us, we could go to him.
And he said he'd intervene with Skinner to have us reassigned if you
wanted."
Scully paused to make sure her partner understood what she was
saying. And what she wasn't. She searched his face intently as she
asked, "Do you want to? Be reassigned, I mean?"
She could see him relax slightly and knew the point had been made.
But knowing Donovan was questioning his judgment and abilities as a
field agent had evidently shaken him. He turned his head away from
her somewhat, staring into the distance, gaze unfocused. His voice
was somewhat uneven when he replied.
"No. I'm fine. I can work this."
Mulder turned back to her then and Scully was again consumed with a
feeling of helplessness and frustration. Her best friend was
floundering, was confused and so very lost. And she felt as though
she could do nothing but watch. Theirs was a job and a life that never
seemed to allow the time to deal with crises of faith and belief. There
was always someone in trouble. Always some threat to national
security. Always something that was more important, that was larger
than they themselves.
Mulder interrupted her reverie.
"Come on in the house, Scully. I want to show you something."
She nodded and followed without a word. What could she say, after
all? What was there to say that he didn't already know?
They made their way back into the house, past the remaining police,
past the two detectives, past Donovan. Mulder seemed unaware of
them all as he led her to the back of the house. Scully assumed this
was the master bedroom. It was large, with a recessed and sunken area
at the far end that formed a sitting room. It was pleasantly decorated in
soft greens and pinks, a woman's touch apparent. Walk-in closets
were clearly visible, as was the entrance to the master bath. Her
partner stopped in the middle of the large room and turned back to her,
eyebrow raised. It was obvious he was expecting something from her.
Scully took a couple steps into the room and stopped. Crossed her
arms and slowly panned her gaze around the room. Mulder had seen
something. She wasn't sure just what yet, but she knew there was
something important here if she would just look carefully with
unbiased eyes.
She started to the left and noted the long and low dresser against the
wall. Various personal items were scattered on the top -- a man's
wallet, change, a ring, a key. Nothing particularly unusual. She
continued looking to the left and far end of the room and noted the
sitting area. There were two wingback chairs in front of a fireplace, a
small table between them. A woman's silk robe lay draped across the
back of one rose colored chair. A book lay on the table, a marker
around the halfway point. Still nothing unusual. She continued her
gaze to the other side of the room then, to the other dresser, a man's
dresser that stood almost as tall as she herself. The top drawer was
open about six or seven inches. She could see a little bit of material
hanging over the edge. White. Cotton. Perhaps an undershirt or
shorts. Not all that strange. Continuing to the right she came to the
bed. It was made up, the flower pattern comforter pulled tight,
covering the pillows. Clothes were laid out -- trousers, a white shirt, a
tie tossed on top of the pile. And to the right of the bed stood a man's
valet, the matching suit jacket hung carefully. Shoes sat at the foot of
the valet and towel lay in a heap on the floor next to it. Scully quickly
continued her gaze around the rest of the room and then focused on the
bed once more. Her partner was right. This was odd.
She turned to him finally and raised one eyebrow, nodding minutely.
It was enough. He grinned slightly at the silent confirmation she'd
given him.
"Will you do the autopsy, Scully?"
"Absolutely."
"What do you think?"
"I'm not sure I'll find anything obvious. Don't worry, though. If it's
there, I'll find it."
"I know you will."
He moved towards her then and nodded to the door.
"Let's get out of here. Can they ship the body to Richmond? I'd like
to operate out of the field office there if possible."
Scully preceded him out the door, nodding in affirmation.
"I can arrange it. I don't think it'll be a problem. The coroner seemed
more than happy to let me take over."
Mulder chuckled, then replied wryly, "I'll bet."
They joined Donovan on the front porch where he'd just said good-bye
to the two detectives. Rick turned to them and breathed deeply.
"Well, what do you two think? Did you have a chance to go through
the house?"
Mulder and Scully exchanged glances quickly, both wondering if
perhaps Rick shared their own suspicions. Mulder nodded ever so
slightly and Scully answered for both of them.
"Yes, actually, we did."
She stopped then, gauging his reaction. He moved back a step or two
until he could lean back against the house. Then crossed his arms.
Donovan looked back at Scully intently and said, "And?"
Just that. No more. He knew. Scully was sure of it. Another glance
at Mulder showed her partner looking amused. She continued on,
saying as little as possible, determined to make Rick admit his
suspicions first.
"Something interesting in the bedroom."
The man laughed out loud, then pushed himself away from the wall
and slapped her lightly on the arm.
"You can say it, Dana. Don't worry, if you're crazy, I'm crazy too."
Scully shook her head in mock exasperation. Mulder was the one to
respond.
"He was getting ready to go out. Time of death estimated at morning
two days ago. He was getting dressed. Odd time to decide to kill
yourself."
Donovan nodded towards both of them, expression turning serious
once more.
"So now the question is, who'd kill him? And why?"
Scully looked over at Mulder and noted his equally serious expression.
He sighed and pivoted, looking out into the yard. He was staring again
at the little girl's bicycle that peeked through the overgrown grass. His
words were muffled slightly as the wind grabbed them and tried to
carry them away.
"That does seem to be the question."
Although it was said almost to himself, amidst obvious distraction,
Scully could see the interest, the hint of excitement that colored her
partner's words and his actions. As horrible as it sounded, he needed a
case to sink his teeth into. Something to challenge him and make him
realize he still had a place with the Bureau.
Scully turned back to Donovan and said, "We'd like to have the body
shipped to Richmond, if that's all right with you. We'll be closer to the
labs that way. And we'd like to head there today after viewing the
site."
"No problem. We're not needed here any more. Let's go now and I'll
call in the order to move Handley. He'll be waiting for you when we
get to Richmond."
Scully nodded and smiled at him. She turned and started for the porch
steps, touching her partner's arm as she passed by.
"Come on, Mulder. Let's go see the plant."
Both men followed her down the stairs silently.
*******************************************
Twenty minutes later they stood at the lip of a small crater amidst the
remaining debris and wreckage of the explosion. Donovan had led
them to this spot and now gestured around them.
"The whole area was on fire for something like fifteen hours or so.
Fire fighting teams were called in from all the surrounding counties.
As you saw on the way here, the damage extended for about a half mile
in all directions, diminishing in severity from here out, obviously. The
damage would have been pretty much limited to the plant alone under
normal circumstances, but unfortunately, they had just loaded several
tankers with product for shipment and they blew as well. It just added
a level of devastation you wouldn't normally have. Still, though, one
of these plants goes and it's like a mini-hydrogen bomb. About a
quarter of the deaths were from the explosion itself. The others were
from car crashes, fires, collapsing buildings and just plain accidents.
There were these two guys putting a new roof on a house about a half
mile away. Right after the explosion, one of them stood up to get a
better view of what happened and slipped and fell off. Broke his neck.
So there were several deaths along those lines. Then there was a city
bus that had the unfortunate luck to have just driven by the plant. The
whole thing went up in flames taking twenty some people with it.
Terrible."
Mulder merely shook his head, as much in acknowledgment of the
irony of such deaths as at the tragedy of the explosion itself. He
gestured around them at the surrounding area and asked, "When are
they going to start cleaning up?"
Donovan grimaced slightly before answering. Shook his head and
looked down at his feet for a moment as he answered.
"As soon as you've seen enough. I made them hold off. Used AD
Skinner's name as a threat. I'm afraid I haven't enamored myself with
the SAC running this case."
He looked up then and turned to face them both fully, smiling a bit.
"In fact, I'm afraid you'll find his irritation has rubbed off on you both
as well. SAC Kroetzer knows your reputations and has said some ...
well, let's just say, he hasn't been kind. He feels that he's been
humiliated by being over-ruled."
Mulder shot a wry smile to Donovan before answering.
"'We' have a reputation?"
He turned to Scully then and punched her lightly in the arm in a
friendly gesture.
"Hey, Scully. Did you hear that? 'We' have a reputation. I'm not
alone anymore."
Scully crossed her arms and adopted a pained expression.
"Yeah, I heard Mulder. That's great. Really great."
He saw her roll her eyes at him, but she smiled just enough that he
knew he was right. He wasn't alone. She was there and wasn't
planning on going anywhere.
Mulder swept his gaze around the devastation one last time, finally
comfortable that he had a sufficient feeling for the site. With a small
shake of his head he turned and gestured back to the car.
"I'm done here, Rick. Thanks for getting them to hold off. It's been
helpful."
Donovan nodded and waited for Scully to go ahead of him, saying,
"No problem. Like I said, though, the SAC wasn't particularly
appreciative at being overruled. You two should stay clear of him if at
all possible once we get to the Richmond office. Actually, so should I.
He's not real happy with me, either."
Mulder couldn't help chuckling at Donovan's tone. Somehow, it was
good to know that there were other agents out there who also managed
to piss off their supervisors. He doubted Rick Donovan was as
talented at it as he himself was, though. Maybe they could compare
notes over lunch. Mulder glanced down at his watch and decided food
was definitely in order before they headed off to Richmond. He turned
slightly to look back at the agents following him.
"Rick, how about if we get some lunch and then you can drop us off at
our car? We'll check out of the hotel and follow you to the field office.
We should be there by - what? Two-thirty? Three?"
They were at the car, and Donovan had the driver's door open, ready to
get in. He paused long enough to nod, saying, "Three sounds about
right. Let's go."
*******************************************
Wednesday, 1:53 p.m.
En Route to Richmond
Rick Donovan glanced in the rearview mirror just long enough to
confirm that the dark blue rental was still behind him. He caught a
glimpse of Mulder, seemingly fast asleep with his head against the
passenger window. The agent hadn't moved since just after they'd
started for Richmond. Rick pulled his cellular phone out of his suit
pocket and carefully punched in number he'd come to know well the
last week.
The phone rang twice and then he heard a woman's voice answer.
"A.D. Skinner's office."
"Hello, this is Special Agent Rick Donovan. Is the A.D. available?"
"One moment please. I'll check."
Rick glanced in the mirror once again, suddenly feeling guilty for the
call he was making. He wasn't sure he had the right. Actually, he was
pretty sure he didn't, but such things had rarely stopped him before.
The thing was, he liked Mulder. He liked Scully, too. Before he could
worry about it much longer, his old boss' voice came on the line.
"Hi, Rick. What can I do for you?"
Donovan could hear the concern behind the words. Could almost see
the thoughts running through Walt's mind as the man tried to guess at
what trouble his agents might be in now.
"Hi, Walt. Actually, I don't really need anything. I just thought I'd
call and give you an update on the case and the progress your agents
have made. I wasn't sure if they'd reported in to you yet."
The silence that met his words was extremely uncomfortable for
Donovan. He silently cursed himself for thinking he should interfere in
such a way. He'd just decided to finish the conversation as quickly as
possible and hang up when Skinner spoke finally.
"They haven't yet, but that's to be expected. I have faith in their
abilities. I have faith in them."
The silence stretched again as Donovan tried to decide what to say.
Skinner again beat him to it.
"How's the case going? And .... how are they doing?"
Donovan was feeling a bit more sure of himself now as he answered.
"Actually, something quite unusual's happened. We found Handley
this morning, dead in his house. It looked like a suicide."
Donovan's dialogue was interrupted by a groan from the other end of
the line. Then Skinner asked, as if afraid of receiving confirmation,
"Suicide?"
Donovan decided not to wonder for too long just why that disturbed the
A.D. so greatly.
"We're pretty sure he was killed and then the scene was made to look
like he'd shot himself. Your agents are good, Walt. The body's being
shipped to the Richmond office for the autopsy. We're heading there
now. Mulder and Dana are following me."
He'd heard the heavy sigh on the other end when he'd said they
thought it was a murder. A glance in the rearview showed Mulder still
asleep or at least resting. Then Skinner's voice was once more in his
ear.
"Why now? It's been five weeks since the explosion. Why would
someone kill him now?"
"I'm not sure, Walt. Like I said, it's a bit unusual. It would make
some sense if it were a suicide, but I think that's unlikely. Maybe your
agents have been asking questions that we didn't originally. And
someone doesn't like it. I really don't know yet."
"When do you expect to be back at the Richmond office?"
"Probably three -- a little after. We're making good time."
The silence hung once again between them. Donovan had just decided
to say good-bye when Skinner asked, "How's Mulder doing?"
The slight hesitation, the softness of the voice, the concern, was
telling. Donovan smiled to himself for a moment before answering.
Walt hadn't changed. He still cared for the people under him, even if
he didn't come right out and let them know.
"He's okay. And he's not."
Donovan breathed deeply, trying to decide just what to say and what
not to say.
"I gather they've had a rough time of it lately. Dana seems to be --
worried. Mulder's -- he seems somewhat troubled. Tired."
With hesitation, a bit uncertain whether it was actually the right word,
Donovan added, "Despondent?" He was careful not to say the other
'D' word. That one was poison. It could land an agent in the shrink's
office for sure and quite possibly out of the field and behind a desk.
He didn't want to do that to Mulder.
He heard the heavy sigh at the other end and rushed on to complete his
thoughts before the A.D. interrupted.
"But it's not affecting their work. I don't want to give you the wrong
idea, Walt. They're both excellent agents. That much is obvious. It's
just .... well, I thought you should know. That's all."
"Thank you, Rick. I'm aware of Agent Mulder's .... problem. And
unfortunately, I have no idea what to do about it. All I can do is trust
that he and Scully will somehow work through this together. Thank
you for calling. I appreciate it. And, Rick?"
"Yes, Walt?"
"I'm not asking you to spy on them, but .... that is .... Well, if
anything changes, could you let me know, please? As a friend. Not as
a boss."
Donovan smiled a bit, pleased to know that the two agents in the car
behind him had someone like Skinner on their side, even if they
weren't aware of it.
"Sure, Walt. Don't worry, I'll keep an eye on them for you."
"Thank you. I'll talk with you later."
Donovan nodded, then realized he was speaking on the phone, and said
hurriedly, "Okay, Walt. Later." Then punched the talk button to off
and slipped the phone back in his suit pocket. He looked in the mirror
again, this time allowing his gaze to linger for a few extra seconds. He
saw Scully turn her head to the right to gaze at her partner, who still sat
with his head tilted awkwardly against the door. Yep, these two
needed some looking after. Donovan decided to make sure he stayed
close to them over the next few days. He had promised the A.D., after
all.
*******************************************
Wednesday, 3:17 p.m.
Richmond Bureau Office
Mulder had been dozing in the passenger's seat and jerked upright at
the touch of Scully's hand on his left arm. Her voice was soft when
she said, "We're there, Mulder."
He sat straighter in the car seat and tried to stretch the kinks out of his
neck. He looked around to discover they were in a multilevel parking
garage. He could see Donovan walking towards them from farther up
the ramp. Mulder glanced down at his watch then and it dawned on
him that he'd slept pretty much the entire trip. A little surge of guilt
swept through him and he looked over at his partner to apologize. He
realized then that she hadn't moved, still had her hand on his arm. And
she was smiling at him, but he could sense the concern behind it. He
closed his mouth, biting back the words of apology. He let his head
fall back against the headrest for a second and covered her hand in his
right, squeezing gently.
"Thanks, Scully."
"Hey, what are partners for?
Mulder dragged his head up and saw Donovan stop several feet away,
waiting for them patiently. Mulder jerked his head towards the older
agent, saying, "Rick's here. Let's go in."
He dropped his hand from hers, felt her drop her own hand from his
arm, and the absence of her touch was almost painful. He swallowed
hard, reminding himself that she wasn't gone just because her touch
was, she was still there. They opened their doors at the same time and
Mulder quickly walked around the car to join the two other agents.
*******************************************
The Richmond office was large, housed in most of a four story
building downtown. A few other Federal offices shared the building,
mostly on the first and fourth floors. Rick led them to the elevators and
punched the third floor button. Other agents had boarded the elevator
at the same time and chatted amiably with the Richmond agent,
exchanging pleasantries. It was an almost foreign concept for Mulder.
He was a bit surprised to be introduced to them, along with Scully, as
the 'agents the A.D. assigned personally to solve the Hampton
bombing'. He was saved from having to do more than say 'hello' and
shake hands when the elevator doors opened at their floor.
Mulder waited for Scully to exit, holding one hand over the sensor in
the doors to make sure they didn't close on her. He followed his
partner and Donovan down the hall to the right, around a corner to the
left and finally to a door that read 'Special Agent R. Donovan'. The
older agent looked back at them, almost in embarrassment, and then
pushed the door open. Mulder noted that it wasn't locked. Indeed a
different world than he was used to.
"I haven't been around much, you know, so it's a bit messy. Sorry
about that."
The Richmond agent flicked on the overhead lights and moved behind
his desk, sinking into his chair almost gratefully. Mulder waited for
his partner to sit before he claimed the remaining chair. It was slightly
cramped with all three of them in the small office, but it was nice.
Oddly homey. Mulder found his gaze drawn to the right where framed
photos sat on top of a credenza. He was surprised, for some reason, to
see family pictures with a woman and several children. There seemed
to be at least three different kids, maybe even four. There wasn't
anything that looked like a portrait. All the photos had obviously been
taken by a loving father and husband. Rick's voice drew his attention
back to the desk.
"Here they are. I knew I had the latest tapes of my visits with Bob
Handley transcribed last week and here they are. The secretary must
have put them in here. I hope these'll help. I almost didn't tape the last
meetings since it was clear Handley wasn't involved in the explosion.
Good thing I did."
Rick had several files in his hand, extended out towards Mulder.
"I'll show you guys where all the rest of the files are and the pertinent
evidence. We had the command center set up in Hampton and then a
mirror one here. All the lab reports, witness transcriptions, reports,
everything we have on the case really, is still in our command center."
Donovan grimaced and looked at each of them for a moment, first
Scully, then Mulder.
"I'm afraid that's another sore point with Kroetzer. He wanted
everything stored last week. I convinced everyone to move slow until I
could get the case reopened. He wasn't happy."
Donovan shook his head, as if in amazement that he could have been
the cause for such drama, then said, "Anyway, let's head down there.
I'll get you set up. Show you where everything is. And you can get
started."
*******************************************
The command center was really just a large conference room. It was at
least thirty feet long and perhaps eighteen or so feet wide, located
towards the middle of the building so there were no windows. Mulder
immediately saw that a profiler must have been on hand from the
Violent Crimes Unit. He could recognize the signature set-up
anywhere. He turned to Donovan and asked, "Who'd you have from
VCS? Which profiler?"
Donovan turned to him, a small smile playing at the corner of his
mouth.
"An old buddy of yours, I think. Jason Drake."
Mulder couldn't control the grimace that made its way to his face.
Jesus. Of all people. Drake. Well, at least the little prick set up a good
command center. Mulder turned slightly so he could see his partner.
She was staring at him, obviously curious. Well, it could just wait.
He wasn't prepared to go down that path just now. He turned back to
Donovan.
"This is great, Rick. I think I can find everything. How about if you
give us an hour and then Scully can tackle the autopsy."
Mulder turned to his partner and said, "Will that give them enough time
to set it up?"
Scully nodded back to him. "That'll be fine."
Donovan went to the door and pulled it opened, pausing before heading
out.
"All right. I'll arrange it for you, Dana. I'll come get you in about an
hour. You know where everything is? Coffee and sodas down the hall
by the bathrooms. I'm around the corner. Just get me or call me if you
need anything. There's a phone in the corner over there."
Mulder glanced at the phone and then nodded to Donovan.
"We're fine, Rick. Thank you."
Once Donovan left, Mulder took a few more steps to the long table that
took up most of the center of the room and laid the stack of files Rick
had given him down on top. He dropped his briefcase down on a chair
and then pulled out another to sit in. He glanced over at his partner and
saw that she was surveying the room. Looking at the piles of boxes
that lined the walls in no apparent order. But Mulder understood that
the order was there. It all made sense if you just knew how the
command center had been set up. He walked over to her and touched
her arm lightly to get her attention.
"Hey, Scully. Let me show you how things are arranged."
She nodded and smiled at him to encourage him to continue.
"It's all laid out according to standard profiling tactics assuming a
terrorist action. They started here, at this wall, and then it progresses
around the room."
Mulder gestured to the left end of the far long wall, then continued
motioning clockwise.
"First is the information on the target itself. That's why we see all
these schematics up on the wall. In these boxes should be everything
they know about the plant. Then comes their various investigative
streams into how the target blew, physically. Here you can see they
were looking at the possible scenarios involving a bomb of some sort,
as well as sensor failure."
Mulder was past the short end of the room and rounding the corner to
the other long wall.
"Then we've got the investigation into who might be responsible, if it
were an explosive device that had been planted. That's why we see
Handley's picture here. He was a prime suspect for a while. We also
have an investigation into the victims, since it could be possible that an
individual was actually the target."
Mulder was back to where he'd started and now pointed at the last
short wall.
"And here's where they started piecing together what they believe
actually happened."
He felt Scully brush up against him and turned to see her standing right
beside him, arms crossed, staring at the wall. She turned her head to
him and said, "Sounds like you've done this a few times yourself."
He smiled at her. Nodded.
"A few."
Scully caught the wry tone and smiled back before asking, "So what
should we look at first? I have a little time still before they'll be ready
for me."
Mulder turned to look at the first wall head on, quickly focusing in on
the diagrams of the plant. He looked down at the boxes that sat under
the postings on the wall and gestured towards them.
"I want to know more about that sensing system. In fact, let's call
Rick and see if he's received any of those reports we asked for."
Scully nodded and headed for the phone to make the request.
*******************************************
Scully sat at one end of the conference table, an array of files spread
out in front of her. Mulder sat along the side of the table to be close to
the files of interest. His back was to the door. When it opened ten
minutes later, Mulder assumed it was Rick with the files on the
diagnostic system from the plant. The agent had promised to get them
gathered and bring them down. But he caught his partner's reaction
down the table and quickly surmised someone else had entered.
Mulder turned in his chair and then stood at the sight of the man who
entered. The agent was in his late forties or early fifties, several inches
shorter than Mulder, and a bit too hefty, obviously needing some time
on the treadmill. The man's brown hair was thinning badly with gray
streaks shot throughout. And all-in-all, the man just looked pissed.
Pissed off, in fact. And Mulder couldn't figure out what he'd done.
Before Mulder could even speak, the older agent said, "So you're
Spooky. Good old Spooky, come to save the day. Here to tell us all
where we went wrong. How we spent four weeks for nothing. How
we don't know shit."
Mulder was completely taken aback by the hostility that dripped from
every word. By the anger evident in every motion the man in front of
him made.
"Look, sir, I was assigned to -"
He wasn't able to get far before the man interrupted him.
"Yeah, I know all about it. You were assigned."
The man stretched the word out - assigned - as if he didn't believe
Mulder.
"I'm sure you had nothing to do with it. Yeah, right!"
Mulder could see movement from the far end of the room and knew
that his partner was moving towards them. Good. Maybe she could
talk some sense into this man.
"Sir, I don't know -"
And again he was cut off, this time by a shove in addition to hot
words.
"Don't sir me. You don't have the right to sir me, you asshole."
Mulder was backed against the table, could feel the edge of it against
his legs. He didn't want any trouble. He couldn't afford this kind of
crap. Frankly, it was all just too draining. He opened his mouth to try
to talk some sense into the man, but never got a chance as he was
shoved once more, the man's right hand pushing his left shoulder so
hard his body actually swiveled. Mulder put his hands back against the
table to help brace himself. Then spoke quickly.
"Look, I don't know what your problem is, but -"
And that was it. The man swung hard and Mulder could do nothing
but try to duck. The fist caught his jaw in a glancing blow as he
managed to turn and pull back just in time to avoid the full force of the
blow. He was aware of Scully yelling off to the side, but saw the
agent in front of him preparing for a second swing. Mulder was away
from the table now and decided it was time to defend himself. He'd
been patient enough. He ducked the jab coming his way, moving
quickly out of the path of the fist and then swung his own right hand in
a neat uppercut, throwing his weight behind the punch quite
effectively. His superior height and physical dexterity gave him an
advantage and his fist connected soundly with the man's jaw. Mulder
could feel the first two knuckles on his hand complaining from the
blow, but recognized that nothing was broken. At least nothing of his
was broken. The man he'd punched was on the ground, flat on his
back, his left hand cupping his chin, while his right was being used to
try to push him up. The downed agent looked furious. And sounded it
when he spoke, in a pain-filled, muffled voice.
"I'll have your badge for this you little shit. Your career is over."
Mulder moved back to lean against the table, suddenly feeling the need
for some support. He had support of another kind as well, though.
Scully stood next to him, one hand gripping his arm tightly. Not to
keep him from doing anything, but just to let him know she was there.
Her voice shook with repressed anger as she spoke.
"I don't know who you are or what you want, but you started this.
You have a hell of a lot of nerve to threaten Mulder this way. Why
don't you just get the hell out of here?"
Mulder was amazed at the determination in his partner's voice. She
had no doubt whatsoever that he'd done nothing wrong. And it
reassured him. But still, the thought of Skinner getting a call from this
guy was unsettling. And he had no doubt that Skinner would be
called. Chances were good this was the SAC himself, angry at having
his investigation overturned so easily. In which case, this man in front
of him, bleeding onto his suit jacket from a cut lip, had a substantial
amount of power in his own right.
Mulder closed his eyes and shook his head, trying to figure out how
this had happened. When he opened them, the man was turning,
leaving the room without another word. He became aware of harsh
breathing then, and realized suddenly it was coming from him. Mulder
looked to his left to see his partner looking at him in concern. She
raised her right hand and touched his left cheek gently, then moved her
hand down to his jaw. There must have been a mark from where
Kroetzer had made contact. It didn't hurt that badly. At least not yet.
If anything, his fist was the thing needing some sympathy.
"Are you okay, Mulder? Did he hurt you?"
Mulder shook his head and breathed deeply.
"Nah. I'm fine. My fist could use some ice but other than that I'm
fine."
He couldn't help the chuckle that forced its way out.
"Hey, Scully. Even when I'm minding my own business I get in
trouble. Why is that?"
She smiled at him and thought for a moment before answering.
"I think your reputation has preceded you here. And worked against
you quite effectively. But, Mulder. You didn't do anything wrong.
Neither of us did. Don't worry."
He wanted to believe her, but the memory of Kroetzer's face, contorted
in anger and hate, was all he could think about. He could imagine the
phone call being made this very minute. Shit.
*******************************************
Wednesday, 6:42 p.m.
Richmond Bureau, Command Center
Mulder had moved to the other side of the room so that he had a clear
view of anyone entering. He had no desire to get taken by surprise
again. He glanced at his watch, wondering how long his partner
would be at the autopsy. He'd give her another fifteen minutes before
he called. The files scattered on the table in front and around him
created a mosaic of tan and yellow, cardboard brown and white. An
occasional picture broke the monotony, inserting color into the work.
He pulled over the file on Handley and opened it once again. He kept
coming back to it. Not because he thought Handley was involved.
Not because he thought reading through it would provide him with any
further insight into the disaster. He was drawn to it for other reasons.
Reasons he didn't really want to dwell on.
He flipped the pages until he came to the right one. It was a family
portrait, with Bob Handley, his wife and two little children. They
looked so happy. These kids would never know their father now. The
little girl was six or seven and the boy just three or so. In the picture,
Handley held his little girl on his lap, arms wrapped around her
securely. She was leaning back, against his chest, her little legs
reaching just down to his calves.
Mulder knew that somewhere there was a little girl who'd never sit on
her father's lap again. Who'd never be held tight in his arms. Would
never again know the warmth and protection of her father's love. And
for some reason the thought almost paralyzed him. He'd come across
this photo about an hour ago and ever since had been completely unable
to concentrate. Any attempt at reading through the other files scattered
across the table ultimately resulted in his opening this one and staring at
the picture.
He reached out and traced his right finger gently over the photo,
lingering on the little girl in Handley's lap. She was a cute little thing.
Small for her age, with reddish gold hair that hung just below her
shoulders. She had a missing tooth that didn't cause her the least bit of
insecurity. Her smile was wide as she stared into the camera. She
probably looked quite a bit like his partner did at that age.
His gaze flicked back to Handley then and the stab in his chest was
almost violent, causing him to gasp, causing him to curl his fingers
tightly into a fist. He'd been thinking that he and this man were the
same. He'd identified with Handley, so that Handley's tragedy had
become his own. But he realized now, with a clarity born of epiphany
that they were nothing alike. This man had actually had a normal life.
This man had had a wife. Children. People who loved him and whom
he loved. This man, Handley, had a job in which people respected him
and his abilities. This man and he, himself, had nothing in common.
He'd just been kidding himself.
Mulder rested his elbows on the table and dropped his face in his
hands. He could feel the wetness behind his fingers and he wiped it
away angrily. Shit. What was he thinking? What did it matter if they
were alike or not? This was a case, like any other. He was here to
solve it, with his partner. It didn't matter who the victims were. Not
this time.
Mulder rubbed at his face again, then ran his fingers through his hair.
Before he could complete the gesture the door across from him swung
open and Kroetzer entered, with Skinner and Donovan on his heels.
Fuck. Just what he needed.
Mulder dropped his arms to lay on the table in front of him. He was
oddly resigned. Had basically been expecting this for the past hour. It
was fitting, somehow. Fitting that his career would be trashed on a
case he hadn't wanted in the first place, but that he'd become oddly
interested in solving. A case where he hadn't done a thing wrong,
except to be who he was. He breathed heavily and waited. He knew
what was coming, after all.
*******************************************
Skinner was shocked at his agent's appearance. Shocked at the
exhaustion that seemed so prevalent. Shocked at the resignation that
colored every move. Skinner had taken Kroetzer's call a few hours
ago. Had listened to the man rant for a good five minutes and then had
told him he was on the way. And while the SAC might have the
impression Skinner was coming to discipline his agent, he was wrong.
Skinner was worried. Worried enough to check up on Mulder
personally. And also pissed. But not at Mulder.
Skinner walked over to the table and stood across from his agent. He
knew Kroetzer had stationed himself several feet to the left and could
imagine the man's expression. Skinner had hated him immediately.
Rick Donovan stood to his right, obviously wanting to put distance
between himself and the SAC. Skinner was thankful Rick was there.
Mulder hadn't looked up since they'd first entered. He sat with
shoulders slumped, arms resting loosely on the table in front of him.
He seemed to be looking at a photo with a family in it. Skinner cleared
his throat before speaking, making sure the tone was right.
"Agent Mulder. Hello. I'm sorry to bother you. I had a call from
SAC Kroetzer that suggested perhaps I should come to Richmond."
Skinner watched his agent drag his head up to look at him. Mulder
never changed expression. Hardly seemed to breathe. Skinner had to
lean forward a bit to catch what his agent said.
"I'm sorry, sir. I'm sorry."
Skinner watched as Mulder dropped his head once more and felt
himself getting angry again. Not at his agent, but on his behalf.
Mulder sat there, apologizing for what Scully had told him on the
phone was an uninstigated attack on Kroetzer's part. What had
happened to his agent's confidence? The bravado for which he was
famous? Skinner knew he was partly to blame. He'd turned his back
on this man too many times. Had refused to believe him. Had fucking
watched while his agent was tied down and committed. Jesus, just a
week and a half ago. He should have given Mulder time to
decompress. Should have made sure the man was all right after the
Vinyl Right fiasco. It was time to make sure Mulder knew whose side
his boss was on. Once and for all.
"Mulder, what are you sorry for? I'm here because the demotion of an
SAC requires the involvement of an AD. You have nothing to
apologize for, Mulder."
There was silence for a good fifteen seconds as the words sunk in
around the room. Skinner was watching his agent intently. He could
care less about Kroetzer's reaction. Could care less about Kroetzer.
The man was an embarrassment to the Bureau. But this man in front of
him, his agent, -- so demoralized, so resigned -- this man was
important to him, as was his partner. They were his agents. He hadn't
done right by Mulder last time. He was going to make damned sure he
made right this time.
Skinner watched the play of emotions that crossed Mulder's face. The
younger man had raised his head slightly, a small jerk of surprise, at
Skinner's first words. Confusion, bewilderment, astonishment.
Finally complete comprehension dawned and Mulder raised his head
fully to stare at his boss. His eyes were wide, mouth hung open
slightly, and his breath was coming in shallow, uneven bursts.
Skinner could hear Kroetzer sputtering off to the side but tuned him out
temporarily. He kept his focus on Mulder.
"Do you understand, Agent Mulder?"
The tears that came to his agent's eyes were painful for Skinner to see.
He leaned over the table a bit and said, "I've got a meeting with Agent
Kroetzer. It won't last long. Then perhaps you could give me an
update on the case."
Mulder seemed only able to nod his head. The man could evidently
force no words to form. It was all right. Skinner knew he'd gotten the
message. He smiled slightly at his agent and then pushed himself
upright. He turned to Kroetzer and gestured towards the door.
"Agent Kroetzer, we need to talk."
He turned to Donovan then and said, "Rick, I'll track you down in
your office in a bit if that's all right. I know it's late and you want to
get home, but I'd appreciate it if you hold off for another fifteen
minutes or so."
"Sure, Walt. I'll be there. Mulder, I'll catch you later."
Skinner waited until both Kroetzer and Donovan had left the room and
started out himself. Before he closed the door he looked back at his
agent one more time. Mulder still sat motionless, evidently not yet able
to process fully what had happened. Skinner kept his voice soft when
he spoke.
"Mulder, I know it's been a long day and you must be hungry and
tired. I'd appreciate it if you could hang on for another fifteen minutes
or half an hour until I can get back."
He waited for the nod of the head before leaving the room. Yes, he
was pretty sure his agent had gotten the message.
*******************************************
Wednesday, 7:34 p.m.
Richmond Bureau, Command Center
The files were neatly stacked on the table now and Mulder stood with
arms crossed, staring at the plant diagrams on the wall. He'd managed
to get over at least the worst of the shock of Skinner's words and had
been trying to figure out how he felt ever since. The last half hour or
so had been odd. He'd be looking at a file, reading a report or viewing
a photo, when all of a sudden he'd find that he'd been staring into
space for minutes, consumed with wonder, with amazement. It had
happened several times now and had just happened again.
Mulder tried to focus his eyes on the diagram but finally gave up. He
shook his head slightly, in self-reproach. Glanced at his watch and
started to wonder what was happening. It had been well over a half
hour since they'd all left. And Scully should be about done by now
also. He tried to get up the energy to actually investigate their
whereabouts, but couldn't quite manage it. He was oddly drained. He
felt empty, not necessarily in a bad way, either. It was as if somehow,
some way, the slate had been wiped clean and he had a chance to start
over. Mulder wasn't sure why that should be. Wasn't sure whether he
deserved it, but decided he'd take the offer. He'd work his ass off on
this case. He'd start to appreciate the people in his life more. Because
he wasn't alone. He knew that, deep down. And Skinner had just
reminded him of it again in no uncertain terms. His might not be a
'normal' life, in any traditional sense. But he did have family. He did
have friends. There was still his mother. There was Skinner. The
Lone Gunmen. And then there was Scully. She was dearer than
family to him.
Mulder felt his throat tighten and he almost staggered back from the
wall. He pulled a chair out from the table and sank into it weakly,
laying his head down on folded arms. He was so tired, so very
drained. But hopeful. More hopeful than he'd been in a long time.
There were people who would help him find the way. He was more
sure of it than ever. And with a peaceful heart, he drifted off to sleep.
*******************************************
Skinner had sent Kroetzer on his way, with a promise of a formal
hearing. He'd talked with Donovan for a bit and then sent him home as
well, under much more positive circumstances. He now sat behind
Rick's desk, staring at the photos scattered around the room. They
reminded him immediately of Mulder, sitting at the conference room
table, staring down at the family photo of the man who'd been killed.
He could guess at some of the thoughts and feelings his agent had been
wrestling with.
Skinner sighed heavily and picked up the phone. He wanted to connect
with Scully to get a reading on when she'd be done. He wanted her
back here. Her voice on the other end of the line was, as ever,
professional when she answered.
"Scully."
"Agent Scully, it's AD Skinner."
He gave her a moment to get used to the idea before continuing.
"I'm here in Agent Donovan's office. Mulder's still in the conference
room. I was wondering when you might be finished up."
He sensed the slight hesitation at the other end and could imagine the
thoughts she was struggling with.
"Well, sir. I've already finished. I'm in the car now and should be
there in another five or ten minutes."
"That's good, Scully. Come straight to Rick's office, please. I'd like
to fill you in on the new chain of command around here before we see
Mulder. Agent Donovan will be taking over former SAC Kroetzer's
duties for a while."
He heard the little puff of air on the other end and could imagine the
smile on his agent's face. Could practically hear it when she
responded.
"Yes, sir. I'll be happy to. See you soon."
Skinner hung up the phone and breathed deeply. He looked around the
room once more and then decided, what the hell. He might as well
check on his agent. He knew deep down that he'd wanted Scully with
him because he was frightened. Scared to face Mulder alone. He'd
been so consumed with guilt over the past week and a half he could
barely get up the nerve to face the younger man. It was definitely time
to move on. For both of them.
Skinner stood up and stretched out his back. Glanced at his watch and
decided he had a few minutes to speak with Mulder before Scully got
here. He might as well make the most of the time. He set off down the
hall, walking quickly. His steps slowed as he approached the closed
conference room door, unsure suddenly of the welcome he'd receive.
He stood a bit straighter and gripped the knob. Turned it slowly and
opened the door. He needn't have worried so much. His agent
appeared to be fast asleep, slumped over the table, head resting on his
arms. He could hear the soft breathing even from here. Any words
between them would have to wait until later. He'd let the man sleep.
God knew the younger agent needed it.
Skinner stood in the doorway for a moment more, wondering what
would become of this man and his partner. The two certainly seemed
to fall into trouble easily enough. Even when they didn't go looking
for it. Hopefully, once Mulder got back on his feet, they'd have some
time to just enjoy life a little. Skinner knew he'd do everything he
could to help them with that. He sighed once more and pulled the door
shut softly behind him. He'd let Scully wake her partner when she got
there. He turned and headed back to Rick's office to wait for her. It
wouldn't be long now.
*******************************************
Twenty minutes later, Skinner looked up from a file to see his agents
standing in the doorway. He'd sent Scully down to get her partner
more than ten minutes ago after briefing her quickly on the situation.
He took a long look at them both and was reassured to see them
apparently relaxed, and even smiling slightly. The right side of
Mulder's face was still red from where he'd been sleeping and a bruise
was forming on the left side of his chin from where Kroetzer had made
contact. The man looked ridiculously young, standing there blinking in
the light.
"Agents, come in. Let's talk for a minute and then maybe we can get
something to eat."
He waited for them to take seats, watched as Mulder paused for just a
moment so that his partner could sit first, watched as Scully sent a
smile of thanks back to her partner, waited for their eyes to move
forward towards him instead of each other. He turned to Mulder first,
wanting to fill him in on Kroetzer's situation.
"Agent Mulder, Agent Kroetzer will probably not have the opportunity
to apologize to you in person. Tomorrow, after what I can pretty much
guarantee will be a brief hearing, he'll be on temporary suspension
awaiting reassignment. So I now extend apologies on his behalf."
Even after almost an hour, his agent seemed to be struggling with the
concept that he would not be held responsible for the earlier incident.
He watched as his agent nervously licked his lips, then nodded his
head. The man finally spoke, if somewhat shakily, eyes intent on his
boss.
"Thank you, sir. I .... I appreciate it."
Skinner merely nodded in return, not wanting to dwell on it. He and
Mulder would speak later. Now wasn't the time. He turned to his
other agent, then.
"Agent Scully, were you able to determine anything about cause of
death in the autopsy of Handley."
He watched as she sighed, pushed a strand of hair back behind her ear.
She glanced briefly to her partner before answering.
"Actually, I've requested a few additional toxicological screens.
They'll be ready tomorrow. The cause of death is very clearly the
bullet wound to the head. There are no obvious indications of a
struggle. No bruises or marks that would suggest he'd been held
down or forced."
Skinner nodded at the news, encouraging her to go on.
"I had them run various tests to check for gun powder residue. Those
results will also be available tomorrow. The results of those tests
might allow us to rule out suicide immediately. We searched for any
needle marks that might indicate he'd been drugged but found nothing
conclusive. The tox screens will hopefully clarify whether he'd been
drugged or not."
Skinner saw Mulder's eyebrows draw closer together. The agent
seemed ready to interject something. Perhaps ask a question. He
noted that the younger man's hands twitched just slightly and then
stilled. Scully continued on in her summary.
"Also, I have the forensics people running an analysis on the location
of the gun with respect to Handley's body and, particularly, his right
arm and hand. Upon closer inspection of the photos, it appears that the
gun couldn't have dropped where it did. This would also provide
confirmation that it wasn't suicide."
Skinner saw Scully glance to the right then, at her partner, before
finishing.
"Basically, we'll know tomorrow for sure. But I'm reasonably
confident of what we'll find."
Skinner nodded once again and turned to Mulder.
"What do you think, Agent Mulder?"
His agent paused for a moment and then breathed in deeply before
speaking, turning to look at his partner.
"Scully, are we sure he's right handed? Might want to have the
analysts check the physics for a shot with the left hand, too. And
would there be any drugs that could have been administered orally that
would have put him out enough to set him up?"
He faced forward again, gaze intent on Skinner as he continued.
"Also, we need to find out if he always left the garage entrance to the
house unlocked. It's a nice neighborhood. Probably very safe. But I
find it odd that he'd have his door unlocked for anyone to wander in.
We need to find out from the neighbors whether the garage door was
open all night and for exactly how long. Also, it seemed obvious he
was getting dressed to go out. We need to find out where he was
going. Someone has to know. And where were his wife and kids
staying? Was he in contact with them? Perhaps he was going to see
them or maybe spoke with them by phone recently. If so, I'd like to
speak with the wife, get a reading on Handley's frame of mind. Also -
"
Skinner had realized that his agent was just gearing up. He had the
distinct impression that if he didn't interrupt soon, they'd never get
anything to eat.
"Agent Mulder. Why don't we head out to dinner and we can discuss
the case over food. You can start drawing up some lists of what needs
to be done and we can get people working on it first thing tomorrow. I
don't know about you, but I'm starving."
Mulder didn't seem the least bit put off by the interruption. The man
merely nodded and stood, obviously anxious to get moving. Skinner
followed his lead, turning off the desk light before heading for the
door. He followed his agents out the room and closed the door behind
him. This was a change. He couldn't remember a situation where he
and his agents had ever gone out to dinner. Couldn't remember ever
being called to some field office when one of his agents wasn't in
trouble. Yes, indeed. This was very strange. He wondered idly as
they made their way to the garage whether his agents felt as odd about
the situation as he did.
*******************************************
Wednesday, 11:21 p.m.
Richmond, Marriot Hotel
Scully sighed and looked up from the stack of files she'd been reading
for the past hour and a half. Her partner sat at the table across from
her, still engrossed in whatever it was he was reading. He wore jeans
and a baggy T-shirt and actually looked more relaxed than he had in
many days. But she could see the weariness, could see that he was
worn out. He hadn't moved for a good hour at least, except to
occasionally jot a note down on the pad of paper next to him.
Their boss was across the room in one of the two wing back chairs.
He also seemed absorbed in the file that lay in his lap. Scully took off
her glasses and rubbed her eyes tiredly. She glanced at her watch and
was surprised to find that it wasn't later. Jeez, it seemed like it should
be after midnight at least. Well, whatever it was, it was definitely time
for her to turn in. The pile of lab reports with their rows upon rows of
tiny numbers and symbols were making her eyes cross.
She glanced over at Skinner once more and a small smile touched her
lips. He'd surprised her today. She had to admit that she'd been
unsure of him in the past. Had even been prepared to believe that he
was the mole in the Bureau who'd set up Mulder, who'd given her
cancer, who'd manipulated them. But her partner hadn't doubted. Her
partner had had faith in Skinner even when she didn't. And Mulder
had been right. Their boss was definitely on their side. He was on
Mulder's side. Despite what her partner thought after the Pinkus affair.
And she hoped her partner realized it.
She knew that Skinner didn't have to be here. That the biggest reason
he was here, was because the man was worried about her partner. He
certainly didn't have to be spending his own time on this case. But he
seemed oddly interested by it.
Scully shut the file in front of her and pushed back from the table. She
stood, slowly, trying to work the kinks out from her back. Her partner
still hadn't moved, although she could see her boss staring at her. She
moved next to Mulder and placed her right hand on his shoulder,
leaned over just a bit, and said, "I'm turning in. I'll see you tomorrow
morning around seven-thirty, okay?"
He pushed his chair back quickly and stood, for no apparent reason
except to be a gentleman, and said, "Goodnight, Scully. Sleep well."
She turned to Skinner then, who had also struggled to his feet and
nodded to him. She heard, "Goodnight, Agent Scully," as she went
through the door that divided her room and Mulder's.
*******************************************
Skinner glanced down at his watch when he saw Scully stand and was
shocked at how late it was. Definitely time to wrap things up for the
night. Although he had to admit that this was interesting. He could see
why Rick had questioned the official determination of an accident. He
could also see why Mulder was so fascinated by it. There was
definitely something odd going on. He was almost sorry he'd have to
leave tomorrow after Kroetzer's hearing. It had been quite a while
since he'd been able to work an actual case to its conclusion.
Skinner stood as Scully left and wished her a goodnight. He turned his
sight to his other agent as Scully entered her room and closed the door
behind her. Mulder was sitting at the table once again. Had just closed
one file, placed it on a stack to his right, and now drew another one off
the stack from his left. Skinner couldn't imagine what these files were.
They could be anything from witness reports to design information on
air separation plants to investigative reports eliminating external devices
as a mode of triggering the explosion.
Skinner looked closely at the younger man and saw the slumped
shoulders, the weary movements, the darkened circles under his
agent's eyes. And he knew that Mulder needed a break. It was much
too early in the case to be so worn out. Well, perhaps his position
would be good for something else tonight.
"Agent Mulder."
He watched as his agent jerked his head up, looking around the room
in confusion for a moment before finally settling on Skinner. It seemed
that Mulder had forgotten he was even present. He took the few steps
necessary to bring him to the table and laid the files down on top. He
knew he had his agent's attention now. The younger man looked up at
him, brow furrowed questioningly.
"Mulder, I think Agent Scully has the right idea. Why don't you turn
in as well. It's been a long couple of days and I have a feeling it's only
going to get worse."
Skinner suddenly felt silly when his agent merely stared at him in
seeming incomprehension. He decided that perhaps it was time to have
that long delayed discussion. He pulled out the chair Scully had
vacated and sank into it. Skinner pushed the files Scully had been
reading over to the side and laid his arms down on the table, gripping
his hands tightly. He looked across the table then at his agent and
couldn't help but cringe inside at the thought of what he was about to
say. He steeled himself to the task, though, determined that this was
indeed the time.
"Look, Mulder. I know the last several months have been hell. For
both you and Agent Scully. And I know I didn't help matters by not
believing you during the last case."
His agent jerked slightly and appeared ready to say something.
Skinner put his hand up sharply and shook his head to delay any
interruption.
"No, Mulder. I told you the other day and I'll say it again. I'm sorry.
More than you could imagine. You've earned my trust a hundred times
over during the last four years and I betrayed that trust."
Skinner shook his head again, partly in frustration, partly in anger at
himself, and muttered, "In the worst possible way." Even now, the
memory of the paramedics strapping Mulder to the gurney, tying down
his arms and legs, stayed with him. The memory of his agent
struggling and pleading to be believed haunted him. He looked down
at his clenched hands and cleared his throat before continuing.
"Mulder, earlier this evening, when I came in the conference room, you
apologized - right off the bat."
He looked up at his agent again, wanting to see the man's expression.
"What exactly were you apologizing for? You hadn't done anything.
Kroetzer attacked you for no reason and you were forced to defend
yourself. But you were completely prepared to take the rap for it. You
weren't even going to argue. That's not you. That's not the Mulder I
know."
Skinner took a deep breath and leaned forward a bit over the table.
"The Mulder I know wouldn't have given in under any circumstances,
no matter what anyone said. The Mulder I know would have been
yelling to the heavens and anyone who would listen what an asshole
that guy was."
The expression on Mulder's face almost caused him to drop the
subject. Mulder's eyes were wide, his mouth open slightly, the breath
coming in and out quickly. He'd moved back in his seat, as if the extra
space would offer protection. Mulder had his right hand gripped
tightly over his left, pulling at it so hard Skinner could imagine the
bruise forming even as he watched.
Jesus, what had he done by starting this conversation? He wasn't even
sure that his agent was really looking at him, was really paying
attention to him. It seemed the younger man was staring through him,
focusing on something only he could see. Skinner made sure his voice
was gentle but firm. He had to get Mulder's attention once more.
"Mulder."
There was no response from the man. Skinner reached across the table
to touch his agent's arm for just a moment, hoping the tactile sensation
would bring Mulder back.
"Agent Mulder."
His agent's eyes seemed to focus then. The hands stopped their tug of
war and dropped flat to the table. Mulder licked his lips quickly,
almost furtively, and then looked so chagrined that Skinner was again
consumed with guilt. Fuck. They all should have gone to psychiatrists
after the last case. He dropped his head almost to his chest, pulled off
his glasses with his left hand and rubbed his forehead with his right,
finally settling the fingers on the bridge of his nose for several seconds.
God, his head was starting to pound. He was surprised when his
agent started speaking, softly, somewhat unsurely.
"It's just that I assumed .... I guess I figured it was fitting, somehow.
That I deserved it. For being such a fuck-up."
Skinner put his glasses back on and stared at his agent. The man was
smiling slightly now, in an obvious attempt to downgrade the
importance of the self-deprecating comment. But Skinner knew the
truth behind the words. Understood that this was how his agent saw
himself. He sighed deeply and tried to decide how best to proceed.
"Mulder, you're not a fuck-up. You just .... get into situations most
agents don't. But you are one of the best agents in the Bureau. You
and Scully both are. You're a powerful team. I'm familiar with the
derision that you are often shown by your fellow agents. I'm aware of
the reputation that you've been pinned with. And have earned, to some
degree, to be fair. But under no circumstances should you or Agent
Scully suffer for others' prejudices and closed minds. I won't allow it.
Because whether you believe it or not, you deserve better. You both
do."
Skinner leaned back a bit in the chair, taking a moment to assess the
reaction of the man sitting across from him. Mulder seemed to be
concentrating hard on the words he was hearing.
"Look, Mulder. I don't know what to say to you that might help. I
know you've been struggling. I appreciate that you are having doubts.
About your career. About your beliefs. But like I told you a couple
days ago, you have at least two things you can believe in and trust.
You can trust your partner and you can trust yourself. And I would
hope, that in time, I might be able to earn your trust again."
Mulder sat now with arms wrapped around his chest tightly, his
forehead furrowed deeply, lips stretched tight, almost in a grimace.
Skinner decided to wait his agent out. Decided to give the man the
opportunity to speak, if he wanted. And the younger man evidently
was willing. Mulder's voice was slightly strangled, so low Skinner
had to lean forward to hear it clearly.
"I don't know what to believe anymore. After Kritschgau, after
Scully's cancer, I was sure everything I'd believed was false. That I'd
just been used to promote the cover-up. That everything I thought I
knew about extra-terrestrial life was a lie designed to conceal the true
work of the military-industrial complex."
Mulder snorted then and dropped his head into his hands, rubbing his
face slowly. Skinner barely moved, barely even breathed, afraid that
any noise might disturb his agent's train of thought. His agent's words
were muffled as he spoke into his hands.
"But then - on that bridge by the dam in Pennsylvania. Scully saw
something. And I didn't believe her at first. I dismissed her because
that was easier than thinking everything I'd come to believe about the
cover-up was wrong again. But then I saw something in that truck. I
saw it myself."
This was new. Something Skinner hadn't heard before. He'd been
called from the military base when his agents had been taken into
custody. Had been informed that they'd attempted to break into the
base and were being held but would be released the next day. So he'd
done nothing. Just waited them out. And while their final report had
referred to the incident in the truck, he'd known it had been sanitized.
But he hadn't realized the extent of the crisis for his agent. Making
sure his voice was low and nonthreatening, Skinner asked, "What did
you see, Mulder?"
And his agent answered. Raised his anguished face from his hands
and stared at his boss with such intensity that it made Skinner sit
straighter in his seat.
"There was a man locked in a box. He was like Scully had described.
He had no eyes, no nose, no ears, no mouth. No face. And the truck
stopped and I could hear the driver coming around to the back so I hid
behind the box. I had my gun drawn and I wasn't sure what was
happening. But then there was a light and I looked. And the man
who'd come for the one in the box was the one I'd run into before.
The shapeshifter from Alaska, from Canada. And he was going to kill
the man in the box, but there was another one. And I don't know
where he came from. It was like he just appeared out of thin air. It
was like a dream almost. It was surreal. And I had my gun up to fire,
but I wasn't even sure who was a bad guy and who was a good guy.
And the light became so bright I had to cover my eyes. Cover my face.
And when I could see again, there was no one in the truck. No one but
me and the soldiers who were climbing up. I don't know what
happened. I don't know what to think anymore."
Skinner felt the tightness in his own chest as Mulder's voice cracked on
the last sentence. The man had been floundering all this time, not
knowing what to believe in. Not knowing what was real. What was
false. And somehow his agent had managed to continue to function.
Had managed to do his job and do it well, in spite of the crisis of faith.
It was time to help rebuild the foundations, if possible.
"Mulder, I can't fully understand what you're going through. What
you've been going through. But I can understand a bit. You
remember the story I told you several years ago. When you were
prepared to leave the Bureau."
It was an uncomfortable subject for Skinner, one he preferred to block
from his memory. But it had helped before. Maybe it would help
again.
"I had my own crisis of faith then. I questioned everything. My
choice to serve. My country. The war itself. It took a long time to
resolve those conflicts. But I was able to, with help from friends and
my family. And I know you will also. I have faith in your
determination. In your ability to ask those questions others are afraid
to ask. And in your resolve to find the answers, no matter what. You
have that faith, too. You've just forgotten it, temporarily."
Skinner felt exhausted. The entire conversation had been draining.
And his agent looked positively gray. He glanced at his watch and
decided he'd put the younger man through enough soul searching for
one night. He looked back to Mulder to see the man still staring at him,
partly in wonder, partly in hope, but with an underlying thread of
doubt that seemed determined to force its way through. Skinner sighed
and pushed himself up from the table and took a step around it, closer
to his agent.
"One thing I've learned in all my years, Agent Mulder. As cliched as it
sounds -- things always look better in the morning."
He gripped his agent's left shoulder briefly and said, "Go to bed,
Mulder. Get some sleep. I'll see you tomorrow morning."
Skinner waited for the nod, stood and headed for the door. Just as he
reached it, he heard Mulder's voice from behind say, simply, "Thank
you."
Skinner turned and nodded to his agent with a small smile.
"Anytime, Mulder. Have a good night."
As Skinner exited the room and pulled the door closed behind him he
paused for a moment. Closed his eyes, hand still on the doorknob, and
sent a silent prayer to God above to look out for his agent and help to
show him the way.
*******************************************
Thursday, 10:24 a.m.
Richmond Bureau, Command Center
Mulder's voice was insistent on the phone.
"Well, you need to track her down. I don't care who she's staying
with, someone should be able to reach her. We need to know if she
was in contact with Handley or not."
He didn't quite slam the phone in its cradle, but the frustration was
evident. Donovan glanced over at the younger man from across the
room, then slid his gaze to Scully. She hadn't moved, hadn't
registered any kind of response to Mulder's reaction, so Donovan
decided this wasn't unusual for the man. Mulder's voice broke
through his reverie.
"Rick, do you know when those reports on the diagnostic system will
be in? We really need those ASAP."
Rick raised one hand in a pacifying gesture as he responded, heading to
the phone by Mulder.
"They were going to fax them in to us this morning. Let me see where
they are."
Rick made the call to the Hampton detectives, pleased to get Saunders
immediately. He was even more pleased to discover the files were
being faxed as they spoke. The whirlwind of activity this morning had
been somewhat stressful and it was good to know something was
going right. It seemed that everything else on Mulder and Scully's list
was going to be delayed or would take a day to get a response. The
tension was running high. He hung up with Saunders and immediately
placed a call to the secretary who'd receive the fax, giving directions
that it should be delivered to the command center, in pieces if
necessary. He turned to Mulder as he hung up.
"Did you hear that? She'll be along immediately."
Mulder nodded to him and said, "Everything else seems to be moving
sort of slowly. It would be nice if we could track down the company
or individual who made the system."
Rick nodded but was still unsure why Mulder and his partner felt this
particular system was so important.
"Why are you so interested in it? Handley didn't seem concerned about
the sensing and diagnostic system at all. In fact, it was the system
itself that finally convinced me that this was no accident."
Mulder nodded to him, seemingly in complete understanding at
Donovan's questioning.
"I know that. But you said, and the report we received stated, that this
system had a feature to it that would allow some degree of autonomy in
both diagnostic and correction sides of its function. Scully and I have
had encounters with similar systems before that have basically run
amok. I'm not saying the system is to blame. What I am saying is that
there's a significant degree of variability associated with the operation
of the system and that since it's the only piece of the entire plant that
was nonstandard, was, in fact, cutting edge, brand new technology, it
is suspect. At the very least, it's at least worth investigating."
Rick nodded in understanding and was about to question the other man
more when a knock at the door interrupted them. The door opened and
the secretary, Janice, stuck her head inside.
"I apologize for the interruption, sir, but I have that fax for you.
Actually, it's the first thirty pages. There are another twenty or so still
coming through. I'll bring those down to you in a few minutes."
Rick started toward the woman but Mulder was faster. The other agent
was already to her, hand outstretched. The 'thank you' was mumbled
quickly and barely audible as he turned back towards the table and
moved next to his partner. Mulder glanced at the first page, skimming
over the words quickly, then passed it on to Scully. Rick went back to
his spot across the table review the list of tasks the two DC agents had
drawn up. Maybe he could apply some pressure to get a few of their
requests pushed through a bit faster. Just five minutes later, he paused
in his phone call when he heard sudden activity from across the room.
Mulder and Scully seemed to be packing up their briefcases. When
Mulder saw that Donovan was looking his way, the agent said, "We
have a hit. A faculty member from Richmond University had a grant to
develop the system. We're going to track her down. A .... "
The agent paused and glanced at the page in front of him before
continuing.
"A Dr. Carly Samuels in the Department of Electrical and Computer
Engineering."
The man looked up at Donovan again.
"We should be there in a half hour or so. We'll probably be back ...."
Mulder glanced over to his partner, eyebrow raised, and waited for her
shrug before going on.
"Maybe a couple hours. Three at most I would expect. We'll check in
by phone."
Donovan nodded and asked, "You know how to get there?"
"Yep, we have a map. Looks pretty straightforward."
Donovan said good-bye as the two headed out and suddenly felt
incredibly tired. Those two worked at a level of energy that was a bit
hard to keep up with. He felt like he needed a break after hanging
around with them for just a couple days. He smiled at the thought and
started gathering his notes. Walt had left him with some expanded
duties, at least temporarily, and he could use some quiet time in his
office. In fact, Kroetzer's hearing should be about done by now and
Walt said he'd stop in afterwards. He couldn't wait to hear how it
went. Kroetzer was a screw up who'd somehow managed to rise out
of sheer luck. There'd been no skill to it, that much was sure. It was
with a smile and a light step that Donovan left the command center for
his office.
*******************************************
Thursday, 11:07 a.m.
Richmond University, Dr. Carly Samuels Office
Scully shook hands with the woman before her and said, "Thank you
for seeing us on such short notice. We appreciate your making the
time."
The woman was several inches taller than Scully, several years older,
several pounds heavier, but obviously good at what she did. Her short
blonde hair was cut stylishly close to her head and the silk suit jacket
over jeans struck just the right tone for a university research professor.
Carly Samuels smiled at them and gestured at the two available seats in
the crowded office.
"It's no problem, really. I postponed a meeting with my graduate
students and I think they're probably singing your praise right now. I
can catch up with them later."
The woman waited for Scully and her partner to sit before taking her
own seat behind her cluttered desk. She moved a couple piles out of
the way so they'd have no obstructions between them.
"You said on the phone that you had questions about a project I worked
for the Air Supply Company a few years back."
Scully glanced at her partner and took the lead at his nod.
"Yes, ma'am, that's right. We were told that you were the lead
researcher on a project to develop an autonomous robotic diagnostic
and sensing system for Air Supply. And that this system was then
used in one of their air separation plants in Hampton."
The professor stared at them with a mixture of surprise and confusion.
The reason became clear at her words.
"Well, yes and no. It's true that I did head up a multidisciplinary group
of researchers on that project. And we did some groundbreaking work
in the area. We're still working on it, in fact. We had significant initial
success, but nothing that would be ready for application. Not for many
years at least. All our prototypes are still at the exploratory stage. So
there's no way the results of our work could have been put into
practice."
Scully exchanged a confused look with her partner and tried to decide
the right tact.
"I'm afraid I'm at al loss, then. You see we were assigned to
investigate the explosion of an air separation plant in Hampton,
Virginia. This happened several weeks ago now. You probably heard
about it."
The professor nodded in recognition and seemed to be following Scully
intently.
"Well, the manager of this plant wasn't present during the explosion,
which occurred in the early morning hours. The manager, a Dr. Robert
Handley, had told Federal investigators that the sensing system, which
monitored the plant activity, was a state-of-the-art system that had the
ability to perform some functions in the cold box autonomously."
Scully saw the woman's brows furrow in either intense concentration
or in confusion. Mulder had pulled out the faxed report and handed it
to her silently. She smiled in appreciation and sought out the right
page.
"I have a report here from the Air Supply Company that states that the
research for that system was performed by you and your colleagues."
The woman behind the desk was shaking her head emphatically now.
"No. No. That's wrong. There's no way. We were funded on that
grant out of federal funds, not private. DARPA paid for that research.
That's the Defense Advanced Research Projects Agency. I don't
understand what's going on here. I can show you the letters to our
Sponsored Programs Office. I can show you letters I exchanged with
my grant monitor there. I'm sure our Grants and Contracts Office
could show you account numbers from where the money was
transferred to the University. There has to be a paper trail, right?"
Scully looked at her partner again before answering. He sat straight on
the edge of his seat, staring at her intently, smile lurking behind his
eyes. They both sensed it. Someone was definitely amiss. Someone
was trying to lay a false trail. And where there was smoke .... Scully
turned back to the agitated professor.
"Dr. Samuels, I'd appreciate it greatly if we could get copies of a
couple of the letters you mentioned. Also, if you could give us a name
of your grant monitor at DARPA and someone to contact in the other
campus offices you mentioned. That would be very helpful."
The woman nodded quickly and stood.
"The files are in the secretary's office down the hall. Let me go get her
to make some copies and I'll be back in a few minutes."
As soon as the woman left the room, Scully turned to her partner,
eyebrow raised.
"Well?"
"Something fishy. I'm not sure what. Could be that the money was
funneled somehow. Could be that someone took the results of their
research and actually made a prototype. Could be the government.
Could be someone with enough power to use DARPA for their own
ends."
"Where do we go from here?"
"I'm not sure, Scully. We have to trace the money. I'd guess the trail
will eventually lead back to the right person or agency. But we also
need to talk with these people at Air Supply. It seems pretty incredible
to me that they'd blindly put an untested, untried prototype in one of
their plants."
Scully was about to respond when Carly Samuels returned. The
woman handed a sheaf of papers to Scully, saying, "Here are copies of
the letters I mentioned. I also had her make copies of letters from my
own administrative offices so you'll have the names of people to
contact there. The top letter the one from my grant monitor at
DARPA. I also added a letter with all the other PI's listed, along with
their contact information."
Scully asked, "PI's?"
"I'm sorry. That stands for Principle Investigators. Those are the
other researchers with whom I worked on the project."
Scully nodded and glanced over to her partner to see if he wanted to
add anything. At the small shake of his head she stood and stretched
her hand out.
"Dr. Samuels, thank you so much for your time. You've been very
helpful."
Mulder had also stood and stretched his hand out. The woman across
the desk still appeared somewhat mystified, but said, "It was no
problem. Please, if you have any questions, don't hesitate to get hold
of me. My email address is on the contact sheet as well as phone
numbers for my office and lab."
"Thank you."
*******************************************
Five minutes later the two agents stood outside the building, trying to
decide what their next move should be. Mulder stood with hands on
hips, effectively pushing his open suit jacket back. His head was
lowered so that he looked down at his feet. He idly kicked at a tuft of
grass that grew between two concrete sidewalk divisions. Scully stood
next to him, going through the letters once more. Mulder looked up
finally, a pained expression on his face.
"How about if we call the DARPA manager? We might not need to see
him in person. He might be able to give us an idea over the phone."
He watched as his partner finished skimming the letters and raised her
head to look at him.
"But what if he's involved, Mulder? We don't know if the money was
legitimately from DARPA or whether it was funneled."
Mulder nodded and sighed. Then suggested, "Okay, let's talk with
these people here in the grants offices and see if they can give us
anything definite. Maybe we can at least find out where the money
actually came from."
He waited for the nod, then pulled out a campus map to figure out
where they should go.
*******************************************
Two hours later, they were hot, sweaty, and incredibly frustrated with
a bureaucracy that was every bit as large as the FBI's own, but
eminently more able to obfuscate and irritate. Mulder stood by the
driver's door, key's in hand, staring back at the brick building that
appeared so friendly and open from the outside. He glanced over the
car's roof to his partner.
"Well, that was a waste of time. What now?"
She turned back to look at the building quickly, disgust plainly
showing on her features. She had to squint when she looked back at
Mulder, as the sun shone bright in her eyes.
"I guess we have to track down this DARPA guy. We've already left a
message but maybe we can get through to a secretary or something.
Find out when we might be able to speak with him."
Mulder nodded and unlocked the door, swinging it wide. He reached
down and flipped the switch that automatically unlocked the rest of the
doors as well, but waited for a moment until the worst of the heat in the
vehicle dissipated. Scully also opened her side and joined her partner
in waiting. She raised her left arm and wiped at the sweat with the
back of her hand, then looked back to Mulder.
"We're only a couple hours south of DC. Can it really be that much
hotter here or is it just my imagination?"
Mulder smiled at her wryly before answering.
"It's not the heat, Scully, it's the humidity."
He slipped in behind the wheel then and turned on the car, cranking the
air conditioning up to high. Scully was still shooting him a dirty look
as she got in beside him. She wiggled in the seat a bit, then reached
down to adjust her weapon. Mulder waited until she was settled and
had her belt on before pulling out.
"Hey, Scully, why don't you try the DARPA guy again."
He glanced down at his watch and suddenly realized why his stomach
had been yelling at him for the past hour or so.
"And why don't we stop for something to eat on the way back to the
Bureau? What do you feel like?"
He looked over to the right to see her merely shrug, phone already at
her ear. It was obvious she was waiting for someone to pick up.
When he heard her leave a message with their names and phone
numbers, he knew she'd once again been unsuccessful in reaching the
man. He steered his way past pedestrians and cyclists carefully. He
did a quick calculation and determined that it must be near finals week
or at least approaching it. No wonder there was so much activity. He
breathed a bit easier when he was finally off the campus and onto
streets once more. Scully's voice almost surprised him in the silence of
the car as he took a turn onto a main thoroughfare.
"Food sounds good. Anything will work for me."
Mulder nodded to her and started looking for someplace to grab a quick
bite. Someplace that wouldn't be swarming with students. They were
at a red light so he reached down for a map they'd been using earlier
for a quick refresher. He was pretty sure he remembered an alternate
route back that would take them into a bit more upscale part of town.
He suddenly had an urge to treat Scully to a nice lunch.
Cars were moving again so he replaced the map and started working
his way to the right, through the busy traffic. He was relieved to get
onto a smaller, less traveled road then and started looking for the right
signs. He glanced over at his partner and smiled, knowing she'd
realized they were going back a different way. He shrugged at her
slightly and focused on the road signs once more. Mulder saw his
partner move around a bit and looked over to see her pull her phone
out.
"I'll give Rick a call and let him know where we are and when we'll be
back."
Mulder nodded, taking a left. They weren't quite in a residential area,
but they'd moved out of the more industrial part of town. He was
searching for the turn to the right and caught sight of the road ahead.
There was supposed to be a tourist area just on the other side of the
water and down a few miles. He heard Scully say hello and start to fill
in the Richmond agent.
Mulder took the right and slowed slightly as he made his way onto the
road that would bring him to an old divided bridge that spanned the
river. There was something about bridges that always made him
nervous. A loud popping sounded to his left, causing him to jump
slightly. He glanced to his partner, slightly embarrassed to have her
see him so skittish and saw that she was looking at him in alarm. The
pop sounded again and this time he understood her alarm as he
recognized a gunshot.
"Fuck! Where is it? Where's it coming from?"
Scully was searching in front and behind, straining against her belt.
"I don't know. I can't see anything. There's a van starting over the
bridge on the other side. That's all I see."
Mulder started to speed up, concentrating on getting on and over the
bridge as soon as possible so he could get to a position with some
leverage. They were too exposed now. He could see that Scully had
her gun out and still had the phone in her left hand. She raised it to her
ear and started yelling into it.
"Rick. We're being fired on. We're at ..."
She turned to her partner, yelling, "Where, Mulder? What road?"
A shot rang out again, hitting the driver's side by the front wheel.
Mulder yelled loud enough for Rick to hear.
"We're traveling west on Sanetick Street, just now crossing the
bridge."
Scully was back on then, saying, "Did you get that?"
And two more shots rang out. The other car was almost on top of them
now and Mulder pulled his gun out as well. Both he and Scully had
their windows down to give them a clear shot if the opportunity
presented itself. He could see the passenger in the van coming at them
and was suddenly confused.
"Shit. It's a woman. With a baby in the back. It's not that car."
And just as he'd finished saying it, a series of shots rang out once
more, this time finding their mark as the front driver's side tire was
blown and the engine was hit. Mulder dropped his gun and grabbed
the wheel tightly, fighting for control. He slammed on the brakes,
praying the brake fluid had not been compromised. But things became
infinitely worse as he realized the van that had been coming from the
other direction had also been hit. He caught the woman's expression
of horror as she came right at him, unable to control her vehicle.
Mulder pulled the wheel to the right, but the car had lost any chance of
holding on the slick metal surface. It started yawing ever so slightly so
that the front was pointed more to the right, the back end of the car
swinging towards the middle of the bridge. And simultaneously, as if
the two vehicles were attached by springs, the van also started to yaw
so that the driver's side was parallel to their own. But it still was
sliding directly into them, closing the gap way the hell too fast. Mulder
had just enough time to yell, "Hold on, Scully!" before the van crashed
into his side of the car, the driver's doors slamming against one another
with an explosive crash that echoed through the afternoon stillness.
Mulder had his left hand braced on the wheel, his right thrown out to
the side to try to brace Scully. As the vehicles crashed into one
another, he was thrown violently to the right, so that he practically
slipped out of the seatbelt that crossed from left shoulder to waist. And
even as his head went flying to the right and down, towards the center
of the dash, he heard Scully's head meet the window bracing on her
side with a dull thunk.
The van with its larger mass was still too much for their car, even
though they'd been going faster. As it slammed into them, the metal of
both vehicles folded and merged, creating a network of crushed metal
that linked together as if fused. And both vehicles turned as one,
skidding and rotating so that suddenly Mulder saw the water coming
fast out of the front window and once again he was slammed, forward
this time as both vehicles crashed into the guard rail and were then
through it, almost as if it were paper.
And as his head crashed into the wheel, Mulder realized sickly that they
were airborne and were heading for the water below. He managed to
put both arms out in front of him just before the vehicles slammed into
the river. But it dawned on him, in the small part of his brain that was
actually working out what was happening and how to respond that if
both his arms were in front of him, he was no longer protecting his
partner. He managed to rotate his head to the right as they made
contact with the water and was consumed with relief to see Scully's
arms also outstretched, as she braced herself. And the airbags finally
inflated explosively as the violence of the forward impact finally
triggered all the sensors.
They were in the water now, no longer attached to the van, but being
dragged down incredibly fast as water spilled through their open
windows. The water pouring into the car was freezing, still cold from
the winter past, and Mulder's feet and legs were immediately numbed.
He fought with the air bag in front of him for several seconds, filled
with relief as it deflated automatically. He saw that Scully had already
released her belt and turned to him, the blood on her face -- her
forehead and under her nose -- evidently not indicative of serious
injuries. And then she was speaking, even as he was trying to assess
his own situation.
"Mulder, are you all right? Are you hurt?"
He managed a quick "I'm good" as he released his own belt, then
searched for his weapon. He'd been forced to drop it during the crash
but couldn't see it anywhere close. Then Scully was talking again, as
the water quickly filled the car, which tipped precariously now towards
Scully's side.
"We have to get out. Check the other car."
He nodded and tried the handle first, realizing quickly that there was no
way out through his door. He pushed against the floorboards,
managed to extricate his legs even as Scully was pushing through her
window, no longer having to fight against the incoming rush of water
since her side had already dropped below the river's surface. Mulder
took a final breath of air and moved towards his partner's window,
trying to fight off panic at the thought of having to swim lower in the
river before he could get back to the surface.
The car was fully underwater and sinking fast now as Mulder pushed
his way through the window and propelled himself off the car. He
rose to the surface quickly, the sun shining through the water showing
him the way. As he broke the surface, he could see his partner some
ten feet to the left of them, swimming against the sluggish current. She
saw him and raised one hand, yelling, "The van's here."
Mulder took a moment to kick off his shoes and strip off his jacket
before swimming towards her. By the time he reached the spot, she'd
already dived down. Mulder fought the current for a second, filled his
lungs and followed her down. He could see the van clearly. It was
tipped sideways also, so that the passenger's side was miraculously up
and accessible. Mulder joined his partner in fighting with the sliding
door. After another fifteen seconds of fruitless pushing and pulling
with almost no leverage, Scully pushed her gun into his hand and then
headed for the surface, needing air.
Mulder knew he could go another thirty seconds at least, and moved to
the front passenger's door. He could see now that it was locked and
understood why Scully had given him her weapon. He looked inside
to see the woman still moving, fighting with the child's car seat in the
back. He took careful aim and shot at the lock, then forced the door
open enough to reach to the back and unlock the sliding door. He had
just enough air in reserve to get the back door slid open before he had
to head to the surface.
Mulder could see Scully heading down again and realized as he swam
up, much farther than last time, lungs screaming for air, that the van
had continued to sink. They had maybe one more shot at getting the
woman and child out before it was too far down to get to. He broke
the surface almost explosively, gasping for air and he had to close his
eyes for a moment against the sun's bright glare. The pressure to dive
immediately was incredibly strong but he knew that taking a few extra
seconds now might allow him to stay down substantially longer. He
blew all the air from his lungs, spit out the murky water that had found
its way into his mouth, then filled his lungs once more. Blew out,
filled and dove once more, pushing his way down, legs kicking
strongly. And Scully was there, a small child limp in her arms,
pushing towards the surface. The woman was still down there
somewhere.
Just as he despaired of ever finding the van in the murky water, he saw
it below and to the right. He adjusted quickly and kicked harder,
forcing his way through the door. He grabbed at the limp arm floating
there, used the van's door for leverage, and pulled. He guided the
woman's head out past the metal rim, wrapped his left arm around her
securely and shoved off the van hard. The light was much farther
away this time and he knew he couldn't last but a few seconds more.
He kicked hard, pushed at the water with his right hand and arm. And
practically sobbed as he realized it would be enough. He broke
through to the air once more and could only gasp for air for a good
fifteen or twenty seconds.
But even as time seemed to slow with each gasping breath, he knew
that each second was precious to the woman and child. He glanced
around and saw his partner treading water some fifteen feet away,
trying to breathe life into the child in her arms. And he understood that
Scully had already made the decision that the child had a pulse but
wouldn't survive the swim back to shore. It needed air and it had to be
here and it had to be now.
He shifted the burden in his arms so that she floated on her back and
raised his fingers to her neck, praying for movement under his
forefinger. And it was there. Slow and fading, but there was a pulse.
He tipped her head, checked for obstructions, even as he fought to
keep her above the water, blew into her mouth once, counted, breathed
in and blew again, counted. He was tiring quickly and knew he
wouldn't be able to keep this up much longer. And from somewhere
behind him he heard a child crying, screaming out with lungs that were
obviously working just fine.
Mulder fought to catch his own breath, legs still kicking hard to keep
the child's mother above the water, and breathed air once more into her
lungs. Prayed for a divine intervention that would rescue them from
this freezing watery hell. And as he breathed into her once more there
was movement finally. The woman jerked, tossed her head to the side,
away from him, and threw up the water that had rested in her lungs.
Mulder found enough energy to speak then and muttered reassuring
nothings.
"It's okay. Breathe deep. You're okay. Your baby's okay. Just take
it easy."
The panic in the woman's eyes started to fade gradually as it sunk in
that she was alive and her baby was all right. Mulder looked around
and saw his partner, halfway back to the same side they'd come from,
but much farther downriver. She kept looking back towards him as
she swam and he knew she was worried. Knew that part of her had
wanted to stay with him, even as the other part knew she had to get the
child out of the water and on shore as quickly as possible.
Mulder managed to raise his arm in what he hoped was a gesture of
reassurance, then looked back to the woman he still had hold of tightly.
He was still fighting for breath, but not nearly as desperately as a
minute ago.
"Okay, we're going to head to shore now. Just relax. Kick if you can,
but we'll be fine. We're going to go with the current. You can see my
partner there with your baby. We're going to follow. Okay?"
The woman nodded and surprised him with her calm acceptance.
Thank God she wasn't struggling. He turned in the water so that his
right arm could stretch out in front of him and he could scissors kick
without hurting her. They made good progress and after a minute she
started helping, kicking softly and pushing with her arms. The only
sounds were of traffic on some distant road and their own haggard
breathing and rhythmic splashing.
And then they were almost there and he could feel the ground beneath
his feet. The woman had dropped her own feet and he let loose of her
a bit as they staggered towards the shore. There was a little stretch of
ground, covered almost completely by rocks except for a few bare
spots, and then a steep hill leading to a little meadow of grass.
Civilization seemed far away and Mulder couldn't believe that no one
had come to help them. No one had seen what had happened.
He and the woman were literally staggering now, barely able to stand.
As they reached a flat spot, Mulder dropped his arm from her waist and
sank down to his knees. The woman lay on her side, eyes closed,
gasping still for precious air. But Mulder needed to know where
Scully was, that she was okay, before he could let himself go. He
forced himself to his feet once more and looked upriver. She was
there, only twenty or so feet away. He knelt down next to the woman
and put his hand on her arm, relieved when she opened her eyes to
look at him.
"I'm going to check on my partner and your baby. I'll be back.
Okay?"
She nodded and closed her eyes, too exhausted to respond further.
Mulder forced himself up and waited for a moment until the dizziness
passed, he pushed the hair out of his eyes and dropped his arm back to
his side, suddenly so exhausted he wasn't sure whether he could walk.
But Scully was there somewhere, beyond the rocks, and he needed to
know she was all right. That she wasn't hurt. He forced himself to
move. To take one step. Then another. His eyes were on the ground
ahead of him and it was with a supreme effort that he dragged his head
up to see where he needed to go to avoid the boulders. He had made it
some ten or fifteen feet, carefully moving around the obstructions,
when he heard his name.
Mulder dragged his head up once more to see his partner leaning
against a large boulder only ten feet away, a little boy, perhaps three,
by her right side. With a renewed sense of purpose, Mulder made it to
her side and grabbed her left shoulder with his right hand. He stroked
her face gently with his left, pulling her to him just slightly. He could
feel her left arm wrap around him. Could feel the gentle hug and knew
that if they weren't so exhausted, he'd be crushed against her. Her
voice was muffled as she spoke against his chest.
"God, Mulder, I couldn't see you under the water. I didn't know
where you were."
She leaned back and looked up at him in concern. Pulled her left arm
from around his waist and reached up to touch his forehead.
"You're hurt, Mulder."
And for some reason, he started laughing. A bump on the head seemed
pretty insignificant in the greater scheme of things. Scully was smiling
back at him, evidently realizing that her concern was possibly
misplaced, when flying bits of rock pelted them both in the face,
followed almost immediately by the unmistakable sound of a shot.
Both jerked back, out of the way, as yet another bullet hit where
Scully's head had just been. Scully was diving for the ground, pulling
the screaming child under her, but Mulder realized they were still in the
line of sight of the gunman. They had to get behind the rock or they'd
be sitting ducks.
The adrenaline was pouring through him once more and lent him an
unnatural strength. He yelled, "Behind the rock, Scully" as he reached
for the child, yanking the little boy up and into his arms. He pushed
Scully from behind and dove after her, just as another round of bullets
found their way to where they'd just been. Mulder sank down, pulling
his legs in tight, checked to make sure Scully was completely behind
the rocks and loosened his hold on the little boy just enough so his
partner could pull him to her. She was talking with the little boy softly,
trying to calm him. Had pulled him against her so that his legs
wrapped around her waist and his little face was pressed to her neck.
He was holding on so tightly, Mulder wondered how Scully could
breathe. Hell, he could hardly breathe himself. He was gasping for air
once more, in fact, and knew that he couldn't take much more of this
excitement.
Mulder tried to take stock of their situation, figure out how they'd get
out of this. He'd lost his weapon in the car. Had dropped Scully's
after shooting out the lock. Wasn't wearing his spare because he
hadn't thought the case was dangerous. He knew Scully didn't wear a
second, so they were completely helpless.
He licked his lips and considered whether he had any recourse.
Glanced over at his partner to see her eyes intent on his. There was
silence once more, except for the little boy's crying and their own
haggard breathing. Mulder rested his head back, against the rock and
closed his eyes, trying to think clearly. He knew that whoever had
them targeted would be coming after them. And incredibly, no one else
had figured out that something strange was going on. There were no
sirens. No cars stopped on the bridge or the far road. There was just
him and Scully, the mother and little boy. And now the little boy was
in danger because of them.
He opened his eyes and turned towards his partner and the child once
more. Scully was hugging the child tightly, still making cooing
sounds, like only a mother can make. The little boy was still crying,
almost hysterically, and it tore at Mulder's heart. He raised his hand to
the child's head, almost in benediction, then met his partner's eyes. He
dropped his hand and rested both flat on the ground. Breathed deeply
once, twice, his eyes still intent on Scully's. She understood. And as
her eyes filled with tears she said only, "Be careful."
Mulder nodded to her, broke eye contact finally and looked around
him, trying to plot out his course ahead of time. And then he was up
and running, dodging rocks and boulders and scrambling for the
meadow. And shots rang out again, but he couldn't afford to stop.
Couldn't afford to find out where they were hitting. As he made the
top of the ridge, he set a dodging course that would bring him to the
nearest building. He had to make it to a phone before the shooter killed
all of them. Had to call the cops. Had to call Skinner.
And just as the thought crossed his mind, he was aware of other
sounds that filled the air, confusing sounds. There was more gunfire,
but it came from two different directions, from behind and also from
above. He tried to push it, run a bit faster, and he risked a glance back,
just as fire erupted at his hip and the echo of the shot filled the
meadow. And then other shots followed the first, but seemed to be
directed elsewhere.
He screamed out and fell hard, his right leg collapsing beneath him.
Mulder managed to get his right arm out in front of him enough to help
him roll, as he slammed into the ground and slid a good five yards over
the rough surface. There was blood in his mouth as he tried to take in
air and he gagged, then spit it out. Some part of his brain was telling
him to get up, run, get out of there, even as another part was telling
him to wait. And the exhaustion caught up to him then so that even if
he'd wanted to get up, he found he couldn't.
Mulder managed to roll over on his back and open his eyes. At least
he'd see who it was that was going to kill him. But instead, the sounds
he'd heard earlier finally registered. He understood suddenly what the
wap, wap, wap sound was. It was a helicopter, the letters FBI painted
boldly on the side. And it was coming in for a landing. And finally, in
the distance, he could hear sirens coming closer.
Mulder let out a breath he hadn't even known he'd been holding and
started gasping once more for air. He couldn't move. Nothing was
responding to his urgings. He couldn't even roll over. Couldn't raise
an arm to protect his face from the blowing debris and grass being
swept up by the helicopter landing nearby. He could only close his
eyes and fight the blackness that was now threatening. And he became
aware of a gentle sobbing then and realized it was coming from him.
He concentrated hard, trying to calm himself. Told himself that
everything was okay. Help was coming. And the exhaustion
continued to claim him, seeping away the energy he was using to
concentrate, to stay awake and alert.
He'd closed his eyes tightly when the dirt and grass started to swirl
around him, but opened them as a familiar voice found its way through
the blackness. It was a man's voice. Deep. Concerned. And he
managed to put a name to it. Skinner.
"Mulder. Mulder, are you all right?"
Skinner was next to him, one hand on his chest as if to keep him from
rising, and the other on his forehead. His boss' touch was soft and
gentle and it almost caused Mulder to cry, knowing that he was safe
finally. And then he remembered his partner and tried to sit, saying
only "Scully". But it was enough. Skinner understood him, and
quickly shook his head.
"Stay still. It's okay. Scully's fine. Rick's getting her now. And we
know about the other woman, too. We have an agent on the way for
her. Everyone's fine. Just stay still until we can get you checked out."
Mulder felt the tears of relief threaten once more and sank back, into the
grass, thankful that Skinner was there. Thankful for the hand that still
rested on his head, soothing him, even as the soft voice soothed him.
And he closed his eyes then, not even embarrassed at the tears that
made their way past his defenses. And then the blackness claimed him,
and he didn't fight it.
*******************************************
Donovan had been happy to get the phone call from Scully and had
been waiting not so patiently to learn of their findings. Skinner had
just gotten out of Kroetzer's hearing and now sat, with jacket off and
sleeves rolled up, looking relaxed for the first time since he'd gotten to
Richmond. Rick put the call on speakerphone and both he and Skinner
listened with interest as Scully outlined their meetings. And in the
middle of a sentence, she stopped talking. There was silence for a
heartbeat - two. Then Rick opened his mouth to speak, to get her
attention, when they heard Mulder curse. Heard him asking Scully
where something was coming from. Practically yelling, the tension in
the man's voice obvious. And then Scully was yelling back to him and
nothing made sense.
Rick's eyes flew to Skinner's as they waited in breathless silence for
enlightenment. And both men jerked up as Scully's words were finally
directed into the phone once more. 'We're being fired on', she'd
yelled.
Skinner had his cell phone out and was already punching in numbers,
even as they heard Mulder scream out 'Hold on, Scully'. Even as they
heard the unmistakable sounds of car metal crunching together. Heard
the shriek of metal ripping apart, of glass shattering, of people yelling.
And then there was complete silence before a dial tone asserted it
rights.
Donovan was breathing hard, looking to his old boss for guidance.
Skinner finally got whoever he'd been calling and his voice was
commanding as he said, "I need a helicopter on the roof immediately.
Arrange for an assault team and get me a medic. We leave in three
minutes."
*******************************************
The elevator ride seemed interminable but gave them time to get
emergency teams mobilized and headed to the scene. The elevator
wasn't there when they got to the roof, but the team was quickly
assembling. Skinner was back on the phone, demanding an update on
arrival time for the helicopter and threatening whoever was on the other
end with death and worse if it wasn't there in the next few minutes.
The man turned to Donovan then, and asked over the blowing wind,
"You know where they were? Do you know the bridge?"
"Yeah, it's about fifteen minutes by car. We should be there in under
ten once we're airborne."
Skinner nodded to him, but Rick could tell by the grimace that the man
wasn't pleased with the answer. He found himself looking at his own
watch and knew he wasn't happy with it either. He'd come to like the
two DC agents and couldn't bear to imagine what might be happening
to them right now. They knew shots had been fired. Knew a van or
car had hit their car. Beyond that it was anyone's guess.
Rick glanced up and to the left as the familiar sound of an approaching
helicopter became more clear. It was fighting the wind. Started in for
a landing and aborted. Started again and finally settled, not two yards
from its mark. Rick started yelling directions to the men and women
gathered on the roof, gesturing them to board quickly. Skinner was
already climbing up in the front.
The helicopter was off not three minutes later, speeding as quickly as it
could to the designated spot. The wind was against them, causing the
pilot to drop his speed and maneuver between buildings more carefully
than usual. Rick fought the temptation to tell the man to hurry,
knowing that Walt up in the front was probably already on the man's
back.
The six agents in the back were all securely belted in and Rick had to
stretch to try to get a glimpse of where they were. He looked at his
watch again, noting that they had to be getting close to the spot. It had
already been ten minutes in the air. He started recognizing landmarks
finally and breathed deeply, unconsciously sending his right hand to
his holster to grip his weapon. The pilot got to the bridge, made a pass
over, and it was clear to anyone by a window that something had gone
through the rails. Donovan heard Skinner's voice clearly, even over
the roar of the engine.
"Fuck!"
The rest of the words were mumbled, but Rick could guess at them, as
the helicopter circled so that it was headed in the direction the car would
have gone, downriver. And then Skinner was shouting back to them,
gesturing out the window to the right.
"They're down by the water. It looks like someone's firing on them.
See if you can pick off the shooter."
Rick nodded and gestured to the man across from him, who opened the
side door in a quick whoosh. The wind assaulted them immediately as
the pressure fought to equilibrate and then Rick had his gun out and
was searching for the shooter, ready to take him out. The agent across
from him was also ready and another had moved to the floor, after
hooking herself in securely. The three of them searched out the
surroundings, trying to figure out where the shots were originating.
And then the helicopter swept away to the other side of the water, even
as Rick caught sight of Mulder up and racing across a meadow. They
had to find the shooter soon or Mulder would be dead.
The helicopter made a turn and they could see the glint then. Could see
the man on the far side of the water, a rifle with a scope aimed at the
agent on the other side of the water. And four shots rang out
simultaneously. The figure dropped immediately and Rick felt as if he
were going to pitch out into nothingness as the helicopter turned
sharply, heading back to the meadow. Rick had been too young for
Vietnam, but suddenly felt as if he'd gotten a taste, in that one minute ,
of what it must have been like. He sent a small thank you to whoever it
was who designed such secure lap belts and reholstered his weapon.
They were landing in the field, some twenty yards from Mulder. The
younger agent was down, flat on his back, and Rick prayed the man
was all right. Before the helicopter even landed, Skinner was out and
running. Rick sent the medic and another agent after him, then sent
two men to the woman they'd seen downriver. He gestured at the
remaining two agents and headed to where he'd seen Scully.
He was almost to the little ridge when he saw her stagger over it, a
small child wrapped around her. He ran to her left side and grabbed
onto her as she started to crumble. He could barely hear her as she
whispered out one word. One name. "Mulder?"
Rick cushioned her as she sank to the grass, trying to delay his
response. But she'd have none of it. She was already struggling to
stand again so he said, "Skinner's checking him out. He fell, but
we're not sure whether he was hit. Just hold on."
She was shaking her head at him and said, clearly and with
determination, "Help me up."
He merely nodded and gestured at one of the other agents to take the
child. Scully shook her head so he waved the agent off, and instead
directed him to her other side. She had both arms wrapped around the
child, who in turn was clinging to her as if his life depended on it. And
Rick realized suddenly that it probably had. He reached around her
with his right arm and grabbed her left arm with his. The other agent
tried a similar approach and they were able to support both her and the
child enough to walk towards her partner and the little group that
huddled around him.
Sirens were wailing now and Rick could see the police cars and
ambulances converging on the scene. He yelled over to one of the free
agents to direct them to the right place and turned his attention back to
the group of agents they were approaching. They were there finally
and two agents cleared a space by the downed man. Rick felt Scully
start to collapse then and slowly lowered her to the ground by her
partner. Skinner was there and spoke, aiming his words directly at
Scully.
"He's okay. Just a flesh wound. He's okay, Scully."
Rick sank down beside her then as he felt her start to tip sideways. He
wrapped both arms around her and pulled her awkwardly against him
so she could lean against his chest. He could hear her sharp gasps
amidst the child's muffled whimpers. And felt his own breath quicken
as she reached out, almost blindly, to grab her partner's hand.
Rick tore his eyes away from Mulder then and looked past Skinner to
the left. The other two agents were supporting a woman between
them, helping her across the grass. It was obvious even from where
Rick was seated that she had eyes only for her child. As the woman
got close, Rick leaned down to whisper in Scully's ear.
"Dana, the little boy's mother is here. You can let go of him now. It's
okay. You can let go now."
Rick nodded to the female agent who knelt next to him and helped her
unwrap the little boys arms from around Scully's neck. The agent
murmured to the child in reassurance, saying "Your mommy's here.
Look, here she is." And he was loose finally and in his mother's arm
almost faster than Rick could follow. And then the figure in his arms
slumped against him and he realized that Scully had lost the battle she'd
been waging with consciousness. He wrapped his arms around her a
little more tightly and waited for the ambulance crew. Rick found his
eyes traveling down then, to where Scully's fingers were entwined
securely in her partner's, even in unconsciousness. And amidst the
craziness, the yelling, the sirens, the crying of the mother and child --
even with all the noise, Rick knew that these two would be all right.
*******************************************
Thursday, 6:27 p.m.
Richmond Hospital
Skinner pushed himself out of the hard plastic chair slowly as he
caught sight of Rick Donovan heading towards him from down the
hallway. He nodded a greeting as the man got close, anxious to hear
the latest reports.
"Hi, Walt. Any news?"
Skinner sighed before answering, filled with relief at what the answer
was.
"I just heard from both doctors a few minutes ago. They're releasing
Scully at any time. Mulder in an hour or so."
He waited a second for the news to sink in, registered the relief on
Rick's face, then asked, "So?"
Rickhad a disgusted look on his face as he responded.
"We lost the shooter. I don't see how he could have lived. Don't see
how he could have gotten away on his own with all the blood he left
behind. There must have been someone else who picked up the body
while we were with Mulder and Scully."
Skinner merely nodded, well accustomed to unexplainable
disappearances of bodies. He was waiting for a report on the vehicles.
"We got both the van and the rental car out. I also retrieved some
personal items for Mulder and Scully. Anyway, we managed to find
several of the bullets. I sent them off to the lab immediately. My guess
is the van just got in the way. One of the tires was hit, causing the
woman to lose control. Your agents' car was hit numerous times. It's
a miracle neither of them were shot. Hell, Walt, it's a miracle no one
died."
Skinner nodded in agreement. It was a thought he'd kept coming back
to many times over the last few hours as he waited for an update from
the doctors.
Rick asked, "How about the woman and the little boy?"
Skinner smiled, saying, "They're both fine. They'll be here overnight
for observation. The woman, her name's Amanda Priestly, said
Mulder and Scully rescued them both from the van. Mrs. Priestly says
the last thing she remembered was trying to free the baby from the car
seat while the van was already flooded. Then she remembered
drowning."
Skinner breathed heavily, recognizing the terror the woman must have
felt, certain that she and her baby would die. He looked back to Rick.
"She said the next thing she knew, Mulder was pulling her back to
shore, telling her the baby was all right and with Scully."
Rick nodded to him and Skinner knew they were both picturing the
nightmarish swim in near-freezing waters following a crash off a
bridge in which both agents had been hurt themselves. Any further
discussion was interrupted by a clattering and voices behind them.
Skinner turned quickly to see Scully in a wheelchair, being pushed by a
male nurse. The man was huge and seemed to tower over his agent. It
made her seem even smaller than usual.
She looked good, all things considering. She was dressed in sweats
and tennis shoes. He'd sent a team of agents to the hotel to retrieve
some clothes and this was evidently what they'd brought back. He
frowned for a moment, thinking of the 80plus degree weather outside,
but then recalled the frigid water, still cold from mountain snows, that
his agents had been forced to swim through for some fifteen minutes.
He remembered them both shivering, lips blue, skin pale, and realized
these were probably the perfect clothes after all.
He and Rick walked over to her quickly. Skinner smiled a greeting and
asked, "Scully, how are you feeling? Are you sure you're up to being
released so soon?"
A small bandage on her right temple and a slightly swollen lip was the
only evidence of any physical hurt. Her smile was bright when she
answered.
"I'm fine, sir. Really. Just tired. And as soon as I sign off on some
paperwork, I hear they're going to let me out of this ridiculous chair."
She glanced up at the nurse with a smile as she said it and Skinner was
shocked at the realization that she was flirting with the man. The
hulking blonde certainly didn't seem her type. But her next words
clarified why.
"But in the meantime, maybe Alex here will push me down to Mulder's
room for a minute. What do you say, Alex?"
Skinner practically had to bite his lip to keep the laugh from escaping.
Scully could obviously play dirty when it suited her. She was
practically batting her eyes at the befuddled nurse. Skinner looked up
to the man and saw the indecision plain on his face. The man glanced
around at the two other agents, as if he might find answers there, and
then turned his gaze to the desk. Skinner could see his agent starting to
get restless. One finger on her right hand was tapping a quick stacato
beat and her smile started to get a bit strained. He saw the intake of
breath and knew she was honing in for the kill.
"I promise I'll be good, Alex. I just need to check on my partner,
that's all. You understand, don't you?"
Skinner dropped his head, wrapped his left arm around his chest and
raised his right hand to his mouth to cover the grin he could no longer
control. God help him if she ever set her sights his way. The woman
had evidently convinced the poor nurse, though.
"I'll tell you what, Dr. Scully. I know he's going to be released soon.
So I don't imagine it would hurt anything if you stop in real quick.
Just a few minutes though, okay?"
Scully smiled at him sweetly and nodded. Skinner caught a small wink
she sent his way as she was pushed down the hall to where he knew
his other agent presently resided. He dropped his hand from his face
and allowed the grin to surface, finally. When he turned to Rick, he
saw a matching grin. As they saw Scully being pushed into her
partner's room, both men laughed out loud. It felt damned good after
the tension of the afternoon.
*******************************************
Scully had been trying to figure out how to get in to see her partner for
the past two hours, ever since she'd woken up. She'd started laying
the groundwork with the male nurse, and felt only slightly guilty at her
manipulation of his good will. He'd brought her some updates on
Mulder's condition and had told her that he'd even spoken with her
partner. But she needed to see for herself. She needed to see that
Mulder was all right with her own eyes. The last image she had was of
him lying unconscious, pale and shivering, with blood seeping from a
wound at his hip and another at his forehead.
When the opportunity arose in the hall, she'd felt a twinge of
embarrassment. As if she were a traitor to her gender, playing the flirt
card as she had. But hell, it had worked and it wasn't like Skinner or
Rick would hold it over her head. At least, she didn't think they
would.
As the door opened, Scully strained in the seat of the wheelchair to
catch a glimpse of her partner's face. He seemed to be asleep, his head
turned away from the door. She glanced up and back at the nurse,
wanting to make sure he understood her next words.
"Alex, I understand hospital policy. I know it's your job to make sure
I stay in this until I'm officially released. But I'm fine. And I really
need to see my partner."
She wasn't flirting now. Wasn't playing with him. She was being
honest and she sent a silent prayer to whomever might be listening up
there that he would appreciate it and understand. And he did. The
nurse smiled a bit and nodded before saying, "I'll be right outside.
Call me if you need me."
Scully was filled with relief as Alex helped her to stand and walk over
to the other side of the bed. He pulled a chair close for her and didn't
even seem to mind when she didn't even look at him again. She had
eyes only for the man lying in the bed.
It appeared as if her partner were resting peacefully. The strained and
exhausted look that had haunted his features was gone. He had a
bandaid at his forehead, just to the left of the spot where she herself
had a bandage. Great, they'd look like twins. She reached out and
took his hand in hers gently, not wanting to wake him. But she did.
His eyes fluttered almost immediately, then opened wide and fixed on
her. Scully smiled at him and leaned down a bit closer.
"Sorry to wake you up, Mulder. I hear they're going to release you
soon."
Mulder squeezed her hand tightly as she started to move away, then
pushed himself up in the bed.
"Yep. I think they're waiting for the results of some test or other.
Should be soon."
He reached for the bed control and pushed the switch to raise it, then
settled against the pillows comfortably. He was staring at her intently
and Scully knew he was cataloging any hurts he might see.
"I'm fine, Mulder. I've already been released."
She paused for a moment, rolled her eyes, then said, "Well, for all
intents and purposes. I still have to sign off on a few things. I sort of
convinced one of the nurses to let me come see you. He's waiting
outside the door for me."
Mulder raised one eyebrow expressively.
"He, Scully? What are you doing, flirting again? That poor sherriff
wasn't enough, now you have to go after medical personnel?"
Scully laughed and punched him in the arm lightly with her free hand.
But in spite of the joking atmosphere, a small part of her knew there
was only one law enforcement man in her life.
She leaned close again and whispered conspiratorially, "Well, it
worked, didn't it? You're not going to give my secret weapon away,
are you?"
Mulder relaxed his grip on her hand somewhat but she didn't pull away
yet. She realized she was tired then, so looked around for the chair,
reached down and pulled it a bit closer to the bed, prepared to sink into
it. Mulder's grip stopped her, though, and she looked back to him in
confusion. He reached out with his free hand and started pushing at
the rail between them. Scully smiled as she understood what he was
doing. Reached down and depressed the lever, lowering the rail.
Mulder scooted over to give her room, finally releasing her hand long
enough for her to get settled next to him. Her partner was leaning
forward, pushing pillows around her fussily and she grabbed his arm,
saying "It's fine, Mulder." He leaned back then, relaxing against the
raised bed. He reached over and took her right hand in his left, then
pulled the sheet up a bit with his right, evidently conscious of the fact
that the hospital gown was a tad short on his long frame.
They were both silent, lying comfortably, not touching except for their
clasped hands. It had been an incredibly stressful afternoon. Scully
couldn't remember anything quite like it during all the adventures
they'd had over the past five years. Her thoughts kept turning to right
after the crash. To the time when she pushed herself out of the car and
wasn't even sure if her partner could get out after her. She had just had
to assume he'd make it. Because she'd seen the van. Had seen the
little child in the back. And she knew that those lives would possibly
depend on her and Mulder acting fast. She had to trust him when he
said he was good. That he was okay.
She'd treaded water for agonizing seconds, right over the van, looking
back to where she knew their own car had gone under. And finally he
surfaced. The relief had been almost overwhelming. But she knew
they had to dive soon because even as she'd waited, treading water, the
van had sunk lower. And then they were both diving, and there was
no air, and she had to leave the van, even though she could see the little
baby and the woman. And then she dove again and was reassured at
least to see her partner still moving, still alive. But the baby wasn't.
And neither was the woman. She had to make a choice and it was one
of the most difficult things she'd ever had to do in her life. To choose
who to save. And she grabbed the baby. She had to trust that her
partner was behind her in the freezing water. That he'd be back and
would save the woman. She couldn't save both.
Scully took a trembling breath and turned to her partner, surprised to
see his eyes on intent on her face. She knew he would understand and
her words came as a shaky whisper as she said, "Mulder, I had to
choose between the little boy and his mother. I had to choose."
Her partner nodded, his face filled with sadness. Because she'd had to
make such an awful decision. Mulder turned on his side a bit so he
could face her and raised his right hand to her face, stroking it gently.
"I'm sorry, Scully. I'm sorry you had to make that choice. But it was
the right one. I was in a better position to try to save the mother. You
did right, Scully."
But even as he was offering her this excuse to hold onto, she knew it
for the rationalization it was. She didn't grab the child because he was
smaller. She grabbed him because he was a baby. And this was one
she had a chance at saving.
Her partner was still staring at her, with sadness, with kindness, as she
closed her eyes against the tears. His gentle touch, wiping away the
tears that dropped, was a salve that soothed her. His voice was soft as
he said, "It was the right thing. And they're both going to be fine.
You saved them both, Scully. Let it go now. Just let it go."
She breathed deeply for a long minute, knowing he was right. It didn't
matter anymore what her reasons had been. It was over and done. It
was time to let it go. She opened her eyes again and tried to smile, then
nodded at her partner. She turned on her side also, pulling her legs up
a bit to help support her.
"Thank you, Mulder."
She saw him relax a bit then and realized he'd been worried about her.
Even as he'd been struggling with his own doubts, with his own
problems, he still worried about her. And something deep inside,
which she'd kept locked away for years started to make its presence
known. And without even understanding fully what was happening or
why, she sent the feelings back to where they belonged, deep in the
nether regions of her soul.
Her best friend still stared at her and she could see him studying her,
starting to tense once more. She breathed deeply and forced herself to
relax, to smile. "You know, Mulder. You still owe me food. I never
did get my lunch."
He laughed aloud, then said, "Well, then, dinner's on me. I hear they
have a killer mashed meat special in the cafeteria."
She grimaced, prepared to respond, when a knock sounded at the door.
A moment later, it opened and Alex peeked his head inside. A small
flush colored his face as he said, "Sorry to bother you, but I think
they're ready for you to sign off on some things, Dr. Scully. And,
um, I think the doctor will be here soon to check on you, sir."
Scully sat up and sent a smile to the nurse. "Thank you, Alex. I'm
coming now. Just give me a moment."
He nodded and closed the door quickly behind him as he pulled out of
the room again.
Scully started to turn so she could swing her feet off the bed, but
paused. Turned back to her partner and leaned towards him, kissing
his forehead quickly. She whispered, "See you soon, Mulder" and
then turned away before she could even consider what she'd done.
She pulled the rail up behind her and made her way quickly to the door,
grabbing the wheelchair to push out in front of her. She looked back
briefly before leaving to see her partner staring at her with a dopey
smile on his face. And then she was out of the room, trying to figure
out what the hell was wrong with her.
*******************************************
Thursday, 10:21 p.m.
Richmond, Marriot Hotel
Skinner stared across the small table at Rick. He'd gotten his agents
settled a couple hours ago and had been meeting with the temporary
SAC in his room across the hall ever since. He picked up the report
Rick had given him earlier, trying once more to put together the pieces.
Dammit, it just didn't make any sense.
"So, what's going on here, Rick? They're on the case one day and
Handley's killed. The next day they're attacked and almost killed. But
this is after a four week investigation by an entire team that evidently
caused no problems whatsoever. What's the difference?"
Rick sat back in the chair and stretched his neck, then raised his right
hand to rub at his left shoulder. The sigh of frustration was clearly
audible before he answered.
"I don't know, Walt. The only thing is this sensing system. And it
does look like there's something screwy going on with it. Dana said
on the phone just before they were shot at that the information Air
Supply had given us wasn't right. She and Mulder spoke with the
professor who supposedly had built the prototype and the woman
didn't know anything about it. But I don't know anything else.
Except that the timing would be right, if that were the trigger to all this.
It was Tuesday morning when they asked me by phone to track down
some information on that robotic sensing system. I placed a couple
calls then to get the ball rolling. This was before I'd even met them.
And the estimate that Scully placed on time of death for Handley was
just a couple hours after those calls."
"So, what? Are you saying the calls might have been intercepted? Or
that the people you put on it might be involved? Or that they might
have contacted someone else who's possibly involved? Jesus, there
are just too many possibilities here."
"I know. But if there's someone on the inside that was somehow
involved, we need to know. We have to get a team working on it as
soon as possible. Otherwise, anyone working this case could be in
danger from leaks."
Skinner pushed himself up out of the chair and started pacing, grateful
for the chance to work off some energy. "I know that. I'll bring in a
couple people from DC. I don't know that we should necessarily trust
anyone with the Richmond office with this." He turned to Rick, a
slightly embarrassed expression on his face, as he added, "Except
you."
Rick smiled back at him, then shrugged a bit, just enough to let him
know there was no offense. Rick looked thoughtful for a moment
before speaking. "It's possible that Mulder and Scully will be able to
tell us something tomorrow. I know they were too wiped out to talk
tonight, but I think we should make it a priority as soon as they're up
and moving tomorrow."
Skinner nodded in agreement and glanced down at the two electronic
keys that sat on the table's edge. He'd gotten extras to their rooms so
he could check on them. Both agents had given him pained
expressions at the suggestion, but hadn't complained too bitterly. He
glanced at his watch and decided it was probably time to call it a night.
He'd check on them and then turn in himself. He and Rick could
continue this tomorrow.
"Rick, it's been a hell of a long day. Let's take it up where we left off
in the morning."
Rick was obviously not going to object. He smiled as he stood and
started gathering his belongings. Headed for the door and turned when
he reached it. "Have a good night. See you in the morning. I'll be at
the Bureau by eight at the latest. Probably by seven. Give me a call
there when you're ready."
"Thanks, Rick. I will."
As the door closed, Skinner glanced around the room, trying to decide
what to do first. He looked at his watch once more and then headed to
the table, picking up the keys. He'd check on his agents and then turn
in for the night.
He headed to Mulder's room and then paused, wondering if he should
knock. If the man was asleep, which he should be after the day he'd
had, then knocking might wake him. He stared at the door for a
second and then looked down at the key in his hand. Stared at the
door, then thought hell with it. He slipped the key card in, waited for
the green light, then pushed it open slowly.
The room was dark, except where a shaft of light fell across the floor
through the open connecting door to the other room. Skinner paused
only for a heartbeat before continuing. He quietly closed the door
behind him, waited until his eyes adjusted a bit, then took a couple
steps forward. When he got to the bathroom, he reached in and flicked
on the switch, hoping the light wouldn't wake his agent. It provided
just enough illumination so that he could make his way to the side of
the bed with confidence. But there was no one there. He searched
around the room and decided it was definitely empty.
And after a second, it dawned on him that there was only one place the
man could be. He walked to the dividing room door and glanced in
warily, searching for any movement. He was already farther in
Scully's room than he'd wanted to be and wanted the hell out. But not
before he knew his agents were all right. He took one more step, then
finally saw the shape in the chair across the room.
Whispering softly, he said, "Mulder, what are you doing up? You
should be in bed."
His eyes were adjusting now and he could see his agent stand, then
gesture towards the other room. Skinner waited for the younger man
to pass by him, then glanced down at Scully. She looked as if she
were resting peacefully. And he felt embarrassed suddenly that she
should have men staring at her while she was asleep. But it wasn't like
he was just any man. And neither was Mulder. Perhaps she wouldn't
mind, after all. He turned away to follow his other agent into the next
room, switching off the bathroom light as he did so.
Skinner paused at the threshold for a moment to allow his eyes to
adjust to the increased brightness in the room, then searched out his
agent's form. Mulder had claimed one of the chairs in the room, was
slumped in it awkwardly, so Skinner moved to the other. The room
was somewhat cluttered, with clothes draped on the other bed, shoes
scattered around the room, a suitcase open on the floor by the far wall.
The television was turned on with the mute activated. Skinner caught
what appeared to be a basketball game. He turned to look at his agent
then. Mulder wore a baggy T-shirt and boxers. No socks. The man
looked somewhat chagrined, as if he'd been caught with his hand in the
proverbial cookie jar. Skinner couldn't help but wonder just how often
Mulder looked over his partner in sleep. Best not to go there, he
thought to himself.
Skinner relaxed into the chair and took a deep breath. He turned to
look at his agent again, a bit frustrated that the man should be out of
bed and moving around.
"Agent Mulder."
And suddenly Skinner realized he had no idea what to say. Whether it
was any of his business to say anything. Except he was this man's
boss. And maybe even friend. Perhaps he could claim the right. As
long as Mulder didn't object, perhaps it was time to take that step. He
took a deep breath and started again.
He looked on the man with concern as he asked, "Mulder, how are you
feeling?"
His agent again looked as if he were caught by surprise, as he had the
previous day when Skinner had spoken to him in the command center.
Was his agent truly so unused to people asking after his welfare that
each instance sent him into shock or was it just Skinner that did this to
him? Skinner decided to wait the man out, see if he'd answer. And he
did.
Mulder cleared his throat noisily and sat a bit straighter in the chair.
"I'm fine, sir. Thank you."
Skinner considered the response. Considered the man's features. His
movements. Both colored by obvious weariness. "You seem a bit
tired. You should be after today. Why don't you turn in?"
Mulder started fidgeting a bit, obviously uncomfortable with the
questions. The younger man looked away from Skinner, towards his
partner's room, then finally answered. "It's a bit early for me, sir. I
don't usually go to bed until much later."
Skinner watched the hands link, then separate, link, twist. When did
Mulder pick up this habit? Or was it only something his agent did
when asked personal questions. If so, it made some sense that he'd
never seen it until recently. He looked at Mulder again carefully,
wondering what was going on behind the carefully constructed facade.
"But, Mulder, it's not exactly like this day has been usual in any way.
Not even for you and Scully."
His agent grinned at him then, obviously amused. Nodded his head as
if considering it. And Skinner could see the expression turn serious
once more. Skinner allowed the silence to grow. It wasn't really
uncomfortable. He'd finally figured out that Mulder and long silences
seemed to go together. He rearranged himself in the chair slightly and
crossed his legs, then leaned his head back. Closed his eyes. He had
the time to wait. It was perhaps two or three minutes later that Mulder
spoke. Picked up as if there hadn't been several minutes of complete
silence. And Skinner stayed where he was, not moving.
"I don't generally sleep much. I'm not sure if it's a habit I picked up or
what. It's been years since I slept through the night."
Skinner said nothing, still not moving, still not opening his eyes. He
heard his agent move slightly and then settle again. A minute or so
later, Mulder spoke again.
"It's quiet at night. There's a stillness. It can be ...."
His agent trailed off and Skinner thought about the words that had been
said and guessed at what hadn't. He said simply, "Soothing."
He heard movement again, decided the man was probably looking at
him, studying him. But then he heard the voice say, "Yeah."
Several minutes passed then as Skinner considered the depths of this
man who'd fallen under his command four years ago. His agent was
an enigma in every way. And he wondered for the first time what it
was exactly that had spurred the man to become a psychologist. And
then had made him join the Bureau. Oh, Skinner knew all the pat
answers. Knew the abduction of Mulder's sister had been a major
contributor. But there had to be more to it than just that. It seemed
much too obvious a reason for the man sitting next to him. Mulder's
voice broke through his reverie once more.
"When I was a kid, I read these books about Merlin. You know, King
Arthur's Merlin."
Skinner nodded, still not opening his eyes.
"In the first book, Merlin's just a kid. And his teacher tells him about
the music of the heavens, that's made as the stars and moons move
through the sky. And in the last book, when he's an old man and his
life is almost done, he looks up into the night and he hears the music of
the spheres."
Skinner smiled slightly at the thought of his agent, looking up at the
stars even as a child, imagining that he could hear them move if he just
listened hard enough. But the smile started to fade as he reminded
himself that Mulder rarely said anything without reason. And he
wondered what it could mean. And then he thought he might know.
"When did you stop listening, Mulder?"
The silence stretched longer than any previous time then and Skinner
opened his eyes finally. He turned to look at his agent, knowing that
the question had been the right one. Whether it was a metaphor for the
younger man's search for alien life, or whether his child's brain so
many years ago had decided the alien craft made music as it crossed the
sky, it was clear to Skinner that his agent stopped listening when the
man stopped believing.
Mulder was staring at him, searchingly, as if simultaneously surprised
at Skinner's understanding and unsure whether he really wanted to
discuss it. The man chewed on his lower lip, then let out a pent up
breath. "I guess when Scully told me they'd given her cancer to make
me believe. When it sunk in that she was going to die because of me."
Skinner nodded, still looking at his agent in the eyes. He considered
his words carefully before speaking. "But she didn't die. And if she
had, God forbid, it still wouldn't have been your fault."
He paused again, before continuing. "But you saved her, Mulder.
Your faith. Your belief."
Skinner watched the younger man struggling with self-doubt.
Struggling with the confusion in his life. And he wished he could
help, but wasn't sure how. Mulder turned his gaze away, back to the
doorway between the two rooms. And it caused Skinner to think about
his other agent, asleep in the next room, and what she meant to this
man. And what Mulder meant to her. And he thought then of
something else that was worth saying.
"Scully has always believed in you, Mulder, even when you haven't
believed in yourself. Even when it seems she's questioning you.
There's a difference between questioning the person and questioning
what the person says. I know you know that."
But by the thoughtful expression on his agent's face, perhaps the man
didn't know it. Or hadn't allowed himself to believe it. And then
Skinner realized there was one more thing to say. "You know, Scully
could leave the X-Files at any time. Any number of offices would fight
to have her."
He saw the expression cloud, the guilt move in, and continued before it
could settle too deeply. "She's chosen to stay. It's her decision.
She's your partner by choice, Mulder. And I sure wouldn't want to be
the one to try to separate you. She can be damned fierce."
Skinner was relieved at the smile his words brought to Mulder's face.
The man looked good with a genuine, heartfelt smile. Skinner hoped
that someday Mulder would have the opportunity to wear one more
often. He glanced down at his watch and was shocked at the time.
The long silences definitely managed to pile up. Skinner looked back
at his agent and saw the head resting back against the chair. Saw the
eyes close, while the smile lingered. He decided to wait for just a bit
more. Then maybe he could get his agent to try sleeping. Just maybe.
Ten minutes later, Skinner rose and approached the younger man.
Leaned over him and decided he was definitely asleep. And while he
hated waking the man just to get him to go to bed, he couldn't really
see an alternative. Mulder had to have been exhausted, despite the
man's previous words about not sleeping much. Skinner moved over
to the bed and pulled down the covers, then returned to the younger
man, wondering the best way to do this. Perhaps he could get his
agent to move without really waking up.
He reached down and took Mulder's left wrist in his left hand and
started pulling forward gently, saying "Mulder, it's time to go to bed.
Sit up now. Come on." And surprisingly, it worked. The eyes never
opened, and his agent's head tipped back on his neck, but he sat
straighter when directed. Skinner put his other hand around Mulder's
back and said, "Okay, stand up now. I'll help." He managed to direct
his agent over to the bed and got him settled quickly. He pulled the
sheet and blanket up to Mulder's neck, tucking them in a bit, then
shook his head. He never pictured putting an agent to bed as being part
of his duties at the Bureau.
Skinner smiled at the thought and then moved around the room, turning
the lights out one by one. The television was on, still muted, and he
reached for the remote control, but then stopped. He wasn't sure why.
Had no idea what made him even think it, but it occured to him
suddenly that this was something he should leave alone. Even adults
sometimes needed a little extra security. He put the remote control on
the table next to his agent and headed for the door. He glanced back
into the room one last time, sent his gaze to the open doorway that led
to Scully's room, then exited quietly, careful not to make any noise.
His agents deserved a good night's rest.
*******************************************
Friday, 9:42 a.m.
Richmond Bureau, Command Center
Mulder sat at the table, reviewing the various reports that Skinner and
Rick had gathered on the shooting. He was frustrated. He had better
things to do than get involved in this, but he knew that realistically it
was tied into the case. And he agreed with Rick's suggestion that it
had to do with the sensing system. Was more sure of it than ever after
yesterday's excitement.
Mulder shifted in his chair, trying to find a more comfortable position,
then sighed and handed the last page over to his partner who sat a few
chairs down from him on the same side of the table. The side facing
the door.
"I don't know, Scully. Do we stop to investigate this or leave it to
someone else and continue with what we were doing?"
He sat straighter, tried stretching out his back a bit, and watched as she
glanced over the report, finally raising her eyes to his face. She was
thinking about it and he could practically see her go down an avenue to
its conclusion, turn around and think about another possibility. She
sighed finally before responding. "I say we leave it to Rick and
Skinner. We must be doing something right to cause so much
commotion."
He merely nodded. It was his choice also. He stretched his legs
straight under the table, flexed his muscles just a bit. "Then what's
next? Should we track this DARPA guy down or try something
different?"
"Like what?"
Mulder shifted again, trying to ease muscles that had started
complaining loudly a few hours ago. Evidently, the swimming and
running he so often participated in at home used different muscles than
the swimming and running he'd participated in yesterday. All he knew
was, he was really starting to hurt. "Well, I was thinking maybe we
could get some friends of ours to do a little background check. You
know. Sort of -- unofficial channels?"
She grinned slightly as the thought of the three stooges Mulder called
friends came to mind. But he had a point. If anyone would be likely to
know about a government conspiracy, it would be the three Lone
Gunmen. They certainly were able to get into places she and Mulder
couldn't -- at least legally. "Okay, why don't you call them. And I'll
get an official check started on this guy beyond the resume we already
have. What's his name again?"
Mulder glanced at the piece of paper they'd downloaded from the web.
Stretched his neck a bit while he was at it. "Dr. Ephraim Burgos.
Interesting background. B.S. from Iowa State in Mechanical
Engineering in 1972. M.S. in 1974 from Stanford in Electrical
Engineering. Then Ph.D. from Georgia Tech, 1977, in Aerospace
Engineering. Certainly got around. Worked with NASA Langley for a
while in the late seventies and early eighties. Went private to General
Dynamics in the mid-eighties. Then to the Department of Defense as a
program director for a few years in the late eighties. Then there's a gap
of a few years before he shows up as a program director at DARPA."
He turned his gaze on his partner. Raised one eyebrow suggestively.
"Interesting, huh?" He held the single sheet of paper out to her and
watched as she nodded, then glanced down at it. "How about if you
get your people working on it from this end and I'll get my people
working on it from my end?" He said it with a smile, knowing that in
spite of their inherent weirdness, Scully liked the guys.
She grinned at him then and asked, "Should we race, Mulder? See
who gets it first? A little wager, perhaps?"
Mulder couldn't help laughing then, even though the aching was
starting to magnify. "Well, we could. But you know Byers and
Langly can hack into a system faster than you could go through proper
channels to request it. You'd just lose, Scully."
His partner adopted a fake hurt expression then reached her right hand
out towards him. "Put up or shut up, Mulder."
He reached out to shake, moving a bit slower than usual, and asked,
"What exactly are we betting on, Scully? And does the winner get to
choose the prize?" He leered playfully, then jerked his hand back as
Scully squeezed a bit harder than he thought she could.
"The bet will be on who's 'people' can fill in the gaps in Burgos'
background first. And, yes, I think it's only fair for the winner to
choose the prize. But be warned, Mulder, my house is a mess and
needs some heavy duty cleaning."
He laughed again and leaned towards her suggestively, taking the
opportunity to swivel his back from one side to the other. "Scully, you
have no imagination. Cleaning's the best you could come up with on
how to use your slave for a day? Well, don't worry. You won't have
to actually find things for me to do because you're not going to win.
My guys'll kick your guys' butt. Butts. Whatever. And, Scully?"
He waited for her to acknowledge him before continuing. Then
dropped his voice low, to a husky whisper. "I have an excellent
imagination."
*******************************************
Skinner paused with his hand on the doorknob as Mulder's laughter
echoed out from inside the command center. He waited for a moment
and then knocked before opening the door. He glanced around
quickly, noting the dirty look Scully seemed to be shooting at her
partner, who in turn stared down at a piece of paper in front of him, a
self-satisfied smirk on his face. After a moment, they both looked up
at him.
"Agents, we need to outline who's going to do what in the next day or
so."
Skinner was relieved to see both his agents turn serious immediately.
Mulder glanced at his partner and then spoke for both of them.
"Yes, sir. Scully and I would like to be apprised of the shooting
investigation, but we don't plan on being major participants in it. We
would like to continue with our investigation into the plant explosion,
with the understanding that we'll share anything we get with the
shooting team and vice versa, since it's obvious the two investigations
are linked."
Skinner nodded, having guessed they'd choose this route. "I'm
staying here in Richmond for a while so Rick and I will head up the
team looking into the shooting. What will you be doing today?"
Mulder fought the grin that appeared on his face, schooling it once
more into impassivity. Cleared his throat hastily. "We're doing
background checks on this guy at DARPA and will be tracing the
money trail. Trying to track down exactly how the system got in the
plant, who arranged for it to be there, who paid for the technology."
Mulder pulled a list over to refresh his memory, then continued. "We
have to figure out how basic research at a university was somehow
turned into a prototype that was placed into an operational plant. And,
of course, we still don't know for sure that the sensing system was
responsible for the explosion. We've only been hypothesizing. We
still have to verify that it was and if so, exactly what happened."
Mulder looked back to Skinner then. "The problem is that if we can't
find the people responsible for manufacturing the system, we won't be
able to find out exactly how it worked and how it might have failed, if
it did."
Skinner nodded in understanding, looked back and forth between
them, then turned to leave. As he reached the door, he turned back to
them. "Agents, if you need to leave here, let me know. You're not
going anywhere alone."
Mulder had his mouth open, ready to protest. Skinner beat him to it.
"It's not up for discussion, Mulder. I'll see you both later. We can
talk over lunch. Around noon."
*******************************************
An hour later, Mulder glanced at his watch in irritation. His head had
started to pound just after Skinner left and his entire body now felt like
it was on the verge of cramping. He shifted a bit in the seat in an
attempt to get more comfortable, but it didn't do any good. He shifted
the phone at his ear so it rested more comfortably between his shoulder
and chin and reached for the pad of paper on the table in front of him.
He waited for a break on the other end, then said, "Look, Langly, I
don't understand what the problem is. Can you or can't you track it
down? This is kind of important."
Mulder glanced across the room at his partner, then said, "There's a lot
riding on this."
He saw her smirk, but she didn't look up from her work. He'd missed
something the man on the other end said. "Sorry. Say that again."
"I said .... this man didn't exist for three years. Not at all. There's
nothing on him anywhere between 1992 and 1995. Nadda. Zip. The
guy's a phantom."
Mulder shook his head, closed his eyes at the pain that movement
engendered, then grabbed the receiver and moved it to his other ear.
Gods, his shoulders were killing him. "There's no such thing, Langly.
There's gotta be a trail somewhere."
"Look, Mulder. You tell us where to look, we'll do it. But we've
done all the standard hacks and then some."
Mulder could hear the irritation in the other man's voice, but had his
own problems to deal with. His back felt like it was on the verge of
seizing. He tried to stretch it gingerly, half afraid of what the result
might be.
"Okay, okay. Look, do your best. Let me know if you come up with
anything. In the meantime, will you fax me what you have found?"
"Sure. We'll get it out to the same number you sent from earlier."
"Thanks, Langly."
Mulder pulled the phone away from his ear and looked at it in disgust
for several seconds before hanging it back in its cradle. He turned
slowly, careful not to jog his head, careful not to stretch his muscles in
the wrong way, and looked over at his partner, hoping for sympathy.
Instead, he found her grinning at him.
"Gee, Mulder, problems with 'your people'?" She stressed the words
'your people' in such a way that Mulder had an urge to leap over the
table and throttle her. But he doubted he could even stand at this point.
"Hey, until you put up, why don't you shut up, Scully?"
He saw her jerk back slightly, obviously taken aback at the brutality of
his words and Mulder immediately felt like a shit. He raised his right
hand to his forehead, touching the bump there again, half expecting that
it had grown to all new and interesting proportions, then dropped it and
sighed. Looked at her apologetically. "I'm sorry. That was a shitty
thing to say. I didn't mean it, Scully."
She was staring at him in concern now and her words were spoken
softly as she asked, "Is your head bothering you?"
He considered lying about it and then figured what the hell. She was a
doctor, after all. Maybe she could give him something to help.
"Actually, Scully. Just about everything's bothering me. My head is
pounding and my entire body is in agony. It feels like I just finished
the Iron Man. Well, not that I'd know. I'm just guessing here, of
course."
He had both hands up to his head once more, rubbing at his temples. It
wasn't helping. Then he felt his hands being pulled away and opened
his eyes to see Scully sitting in the chair opposite his. Her hands
moved to his head, checking the small bump. Checked his eyes,
checked his forehead for fever. Checked his throat and neck for
something only doctors understood. Moved down to his wrist to check
the pulse. He assumed she found one although she didn't say.
"Did they give you pain medication or muscle relaxants when you were
released yesterday?"
Mulder sighed, shook his head slowly. Then said, "No. They gave me
antibiotics because of the bullet wound and just said to take Tylenol if
there was any pain. I took two this morning. Well, maybe three."
He heard his partner mutter "Jerks" under her breath. She still had one
hand on his head when she asked, "Did they give you any instructions
about heat or ice?"
That confused him. He hadn't injured anything, after all. "Umm, no."
She snorted at his response and Mulder suddenly felt as if he'd done
something wrong. But then she ran her hand lightly through his hair
and dropped it down to take his hand in hers.
"Mulder, I'm so sorry. I should have checked. I was just so tired last
night I never even thought about it. I just assumed they'd run through
some things with you. And give you appropriate pain medication and
muscle relaxants."
Mulder shook his head a bit to let her know he wasn't following.
"What I'm saying is that I'm not surprised your grouchy and in pain. I
would be too if I hadn't been taking really good drugs."
He smiled a bit at that, then asked, "So are you going to be my supplier
for the short term? 'Cause I'm thinking that pretty soon, I won't even
be able to move if something doesn't change pretty fast."
Scully glanced around the room, then stood. Turned back to her
partner and said, "Here's what we're going to do. I'm going to raid
my little black bag and find something or somethings that will help.
Then, I'm going to find a couch somewhere and you're going to lie
down for a couple hours."
He started to protest, but she cut him off. "No, Mulder. I promise that
if your fax comes in complete before mine, I won't cheat and accidently
burn it, okay? You can trust me."
He smiled and nodded finally. After all, until the faxes did come in,
there wasn't a whole hell of a lot to do anyway. His partner moved
towards the door, then said as she reached it, "I'll be right back".
He merely nodded, then added, "I'm not going anywhere."
*******************************************
Five minutes later, there was a noise in the hallway. Mulder looked out
through his fingers to see the door open to reveal not only Scully, but
her entourage. Well, Mulder wasn't sure if two people actually
constituted an entourage, but that's what the phrase the image conjured.
She'd rounded up both Skinner and Donovan and Mulder couldn't help
groaning slightly when he caught sight of them. Gods, this was
embarrassing. He dropped his face back in his hands, closing his
fingers to block the sight. Maybe they'd just go away if he didn't
acknowledge their presence.
But Scully was insistent. She was pulling at his hands again so he had
no choice but to let them drop. He'd leaned forward so that his elbows
were resting on his knees. Now, as Scully pulled at his arms, he tried
to push himself upright. He'd managed to move several inches when
his back complained with one mighty stab of pain that coursed through
it from top to botton in a flash. He cried out and bit his lip, then froze,
afraid to try again.
He closed his eyes tightly against the pain, and concentrated hard on
the simple task of breathing. He realized after several tense moments
that Scully was talking to him softly and that someone was helping to
brace him so that he wasn't supporting himself in such an awkward
position on his own. He opened his eyes and realized then that Skinner
was to his left, one hand on his shoulder and the other on his back, and
that Donovan was hovering to his right, just over Scully's shoulder.
He looked into his partner's eyes and whispered hoarsely, "Scully, I
got a little problem here."
"I know, Mulder. This will help. I promise."
She was holding out several pills in her hand and he managed to
summon the energy and coordination skills necessary to reach for them
and throw them in his mouth. She held the glass for him and he drank
greedily, wondering if these were miracle pills that would see him right
immediately. Somehow he doubted that.
He looked back at her again, waiting for her to tell him what she had in
mind now.
"AD Skinner and Rick are going to help you down the hall. There's an
office with a couch in it. The medication should be effective soon and
you'll be able to rest a bit. I promise that when you wake up, you'll
definitely feel better."
He stared at her, wondering just how she expected him to move all the
way down the hall when he couldn't even sit up straight. But she
seemed serious. He licked his lips nervously, recognizing that this was
probably going to be somewhat painful. Then decided a delaying tactic
might be in order. "You know, Scully, it's not all that bad when I sit
still. How about I stay here until they kick in?"
She was looking at him kindly, obviously understanding his concerns.
"Sorry, partner. You really need to be flat."
She glanced to his left and then to his right and Mulder knew she had
just made eye contact with Skinner and Delano. She squeezed his hand
then and asked, "Are you ready, Mulder?"
He had started to breathe faster at the knowledge of sure pain that
awaited him, but nodded anyway. His partner moved away from him
and Donovan moved in for the kill. Well, he knew that Rick was just
there to help him stand and walk, but he couldn't help thinking of it that
way. 'The kill.' The way he was feeling, it seemed appropriate.
Skinner took Mulder's left arm, carefully, even as Donovan was taking
his right. Mulder heard Skinner say, "Ready?", but had no idea
whether it was directed at him or not. He closed his eyes tightly and
tried not to cry out as the two men pulled him up from the chair, each
pulling an arm over their shoulders. Mulder bit at his lower lip and
kept his eyes closed tightly. He could hear the air rushing in and out of
his nose noisily, but knew that if he breathed through his mouth, he'd
have to stop biting his lip, and if that happened, then he'd most surely
be screaming out every single curse word he'd ever learned during his
thirty-seven years.
The trek down the hall seemed interminable. Mulder kept his eyes
closed tightly, attempted to move his feet in some reasonable facsimile
of a walk, and concentrated on continuing to breathe. Of all the things
he was responsible for at that moment, breathing seemed to him to be
one of the most important. They came to a stop finally and he opened
his eyes, praying they were at their destination and this hell might end.
Instead, Mulder found himself face to face with former SAC Kroetzer,
of all people.
The shock almost sent him into cardiac arrest. He gasped audibly and
couldn't restrain the jerk backwards. The muffled curse that escaped as
a result caused three sets of male eyebrows to raise. But now that his
eyes were open, Mulder understood that the couch they were heading
for was in this man's office and that the agent had evidently just been
kicked out. Great. That was all Mulder needed.
But then the agent was out of sight and the couch came into view.
Mulder had to admit it looked heavenly. A few more steps and Skinner
was telling him to sit, then to lie down. And he was finally flat. He
closed his eyes again, aware that his breath was coming in uneven,
shaky bursts and that his face and back were coated in sweat. All from
a little walk down the hall. Jesus, he was pathetic. Mulder licked his
lips and opened his eyes as he felt someone rest their hands on his arm.
He knew that touch.
Scully was sitting next to him, expression equal parts concerned and
irritated. What had he done now? But when she leaned in to whisper
to him he knew she wasn't irritated with him.
"Kroetzer's an ass. Don't worry, he's out of here for the day. Won't
be back. You just close your eyes and concentrate on relaxing. I
guarantee you'll be fast asleep within fifteen minutes."
Mulder merely nodded to her, too exhausted to attempt anything else.
He closed his eyes and concentrated, as she said, and wasn't even
aware of the shuffling that indicated the other agents had left the room.
*******************************************
Back in the conference room, Skinner was pacing in frustration. He
turned to Scully as she entered and said, "Jesus, Scully. Is he all right?
Should he be back in the hospital?"
Scully stood her ground. Shook her head slowly. "Sir, I know it
looks bad, but he'll be just fine. You know what it feels like when you
have a muscle just on the verge of cramping?"
She waited for him to nod before going on. "So now imagine that
throughout your entire body, with a couple actual cramped muscles
thrown in just to make you really miserable. That's what's happening
with Mulder right now. I knew enough to take the appropriate
medication as soon as we got back yesterday and I was too tired to
check on Mulder. I assumed the idiots at the hospital had taken care of
him also."
She shook her head in frustration and imagined a certain doctor's head
on a spike. It was embarrassingly satisfying. She turned to Skinner
again. "I've given him a pretty hefty dose of muscle relaxants, anti-
inflammatories, and pain pills. Believe me, he'll be feeling absolutely
nothing in about ten minutes or so. And by the time he wakes up in a
few hours, the worst of the soreness will be gone. He'll at least be
able to get around reasonably easily."
Scully waited for his response and finally saw her boss relax a bit as he
nodded in understanding.
"Okay, Scully. But I don't want him alone. Either you, Rick, or I are
to stay there until he's up and moving."
Scully nodded and smiled, happy that he'd had the same thought
without her having to bring it up.
Skinner glanced over at Rick and then back to Scully. "Scully, what
will you be doing now?"
"I finally got all the lab reports on Handley. I'll be reviewing those.
Mulder and I also have some faxes starting to come in on Burgos, the
DARPA guy."
Skinner nodded and gestured to the other agent. Rick looked between
him and Scully, then said, "I'm coordinating the interviews with
witnesses to yesterday's shooting. Not that there were any, really.
But we're hoping someone caught sight of the vehicle that had to have
been used to take the body away."
Skinner nodded, then asked both of them, "Which of you can start out
with Mulder? I have to be back at the bridge in about a half hour. I
should be done in a couple hours and I can spell whoever's there."
Scully spoke up quickly.
"Sir, I can. I'm just reading reports and taking notes. If I have to
leave, I'll make arrangements with Rick."
Skinner nodded to her, saying, "Okay, Scully. I'm outta here. You
guys give me a call if anything comes up."
Scully watched him leave and then moved to the table to start collecting
files and her computer. She realized that Rick was still there and was
awfully quiet. When she turned to look at him, she found him staring
at her. "What? What's wrong, Rick?"
The older agent shook his head a bit, then said, "If Mulder's in that
much pain, you can't convince me you're completely free of it. I don't
buy it."
She grinned at him then, amazed at how perceptive the man could be.
"Well, you're right. I do hurt, but it's just a dull aching kind of hurt
that I know will pass. I'm just moving a bit slower than normal.
That's all."
Rick continued to stare at her searchingly and then evidently decided to
believe her. He nodded and started to head to the door, then turned as
he reached it. "You know my number, Dana. Don't be afraid to use
it."
She smiled at him and replied, "Thank you. I will. Promise."
*******************************************
Scully was getting ticked. She'd been reviewing reports for the past
hour and it was completely clear to her that either there were a bunch of
incompetents in the lab or there was truly something odd going on with
Handley's death. Well, even odder than usual, that is. She glanced at
her watch and then over to the couch, gaze lingering on her partner.
He'd been asleep already by the time she got back tothe conference
room and then hadn't moved a muscle until about fifteen minutes ago.
He'd shifted just slightly a couple times since then so she assumed the
medication was doing its job. Scully decided it was time to head to the
labs to talk with the technicians, so picked up the phone carefully to
dial Rick.
Ten minutes later, she stood in the doorway of the fourth floor lab,
trying to identify someone in charge. A voice called out from the right,
"Can I help you?" Scully turned to see a young woman, dressed in a
white lab coat. Scully nodded and responded.
"Yes, ma'am. My name is Dana Scully. I'm here from DC working a
case with my partner. Day before yesterday, I requested some
particular tests be run in the Handley murder investigation. I just got
these reports and have some questions. Could you tell me who was
responsible for these?"
Scully knew that her voice had raised towards the end. Become almost
strident. But, dammit, she was tired and she hurt and she just wanted a
lab report that made sense. The young woman blanched, then said,
"Yes, actually, I was. My name's Alicia Saget. Dr. Saget."
Scully decided to shelve any thoughts of ranting and decided to opt
instead for the ultra professional approach.
"Dr. Saget, do you have time to discuss the results now? It would be
greatly appreciated."
The woman nodded her head and gestured to a little office in the
corner, with glass windows looking out into the room. When they
were settled comfortable, Scully looked at the papers in her hand and
decided to start with the one on top.
"This is a lab report on the tox screens that were run. However, I had
specifically asked for additional screens because I was reasonably sure
something more exotic had been used to immobilize Handley. Can you
explain why they haven't been run?"
The woman sat straighter in her chair before responding. "Ms. Scully -
"
Scully didn't let the woman get any farther than that. She quickly
inserted, "It's Dr. Scully, actually."
The young woman seemed to pale even further, then said, "Dr Scully.
I have a boss. Or at least I did until two days ago. And that boss
instructed me specifically to, as he put it, 'Not waste a lot of time on
useless tests'. I'm sorry, ma'am, but I was just following orders."
Scully sighed and shook her head, frustrated that Kroetzer's
antagonism was being felt even after he'd been dismissed from the
case. She looked at the woman once more, this time with a bit more
understanding, and said, "Dr. Saget, I can understand that you don't
want to get involved in any internal politics. I don't blame you. But
Rick Donovan is now the SAC on this case and AD Skinner is also
working it with my partner and me. I suggest that the people you be
concerned about pleasing right now are us."
She stood and held the various reports out, then dropped them on the
woman's desk. "I need these done correctly, detailing the results of
what I asked for, by this afternoon, three o'clock."
The woman nodded her head again, face red now instead of pale.
Well, Scully thought to herself, the agent could just deal with it. This
was her and Mulder's lives on the line. They needed those results.
"Thank you. Here's my cell number and here's the number in the
command center. If you can't get me through either of those means,
please alert SAC Donovan."
And then she turned and was gone, sweeping through the lab with
determination. Damn that Kroetzer, anyway.
*******************************************
Rick glanced at his watch and realized suddenly that there was a reason
his stomach was growling. It was already after two o'clock and they'd
all missed lunch. He looked over to the man on the couch, pleased to
see him resting comfortably. At least, it looked that way. Mulder
hadn't moved significantly even though Rick had been on the phone
almost constantly for the past thirty or so minutes.
Walt had filled him in a bit on what the last few months had been like
for Mulder and Scully and he could understand now the weariness of
spirit so prevalent. Rick considered himself a simple man. He loved
his wife and children. He worked hard. He believed in God and tried
to be a good Christian. He believed in his country and his government.
And he couldn't begin to wrap his brain around the things that Mulder
and Scully had been involved in the last several years. Aliens,
biological weapons, government conspiracies, abductions, torture, all
with a smattering of ghosts and goblins thrown in for good measure.
He looked back at the man on the couch, perhaps just five years
younger than he himself was, but suddenly felt as if he were the junior
agent, the more inexperienced man. And he was happy for it. He
wouldn't wish Mulder's life on anyone.
Rick sighed heavily and shook his head, wondering what it was that
drove Mulder and his partner to continue their search despite all the
horrors they'd witnessed and been subjected to. And while he
understood the answer, understood the desire for this Truth for which
they searched, it still didn't seem worth it to him.
Rick reached back and pulled out his wallet, flipping it open to last
year's Christmas photo. Jenny and the kids stared out at him, all
smiling broadly, except for little Jacob who was angry at missing
cartoons. He smiled and ran his finger over the image, lingering on
Jenny's face. He could practically smell her here, with him. If he
closed his eyes, he could just about convince himself she was there
next to him.
Rick glanced over to the couch once more and was filled suddenly with
compassion for the man lying on it. He prayed in a way he usually
reserved only for family emergencies. Prayed that Mulder would be
able some day to lay his demons to rest. That the man would come to
realize that the Truth might be a noble and admirable pursuit, but that
you couldn't hold it in your arms at night. Prayed that this man and his
partner would find the way to a greater Truth. They certainly deserved
it. And Rick ran his finger over his photo once more and realized just
how lucky he was.
*******************************************
Skinner didn't bother knocking. Just opened the door quietly and
walked in. He glanced at his watch again. Damn. Almost three
o'clock and it seemed like nothing at all had been accomplished today.
That wasn't really true, of course. They'd started down any number of
paths in the investigation into yesterday's shooting. It was just that
most of them were already turning out to be dead ends. He looked to
his left to see Mulder still fast asleep on the couch. Rick had looked up
from the papers in front of him as soon as Skinner had opened the
door.
Rick said, "Walt. Any news?"
Skinner shook his head and sank into one of the chairs opposite the
desk with a sigh. He glanced at Mulder again before speaking.
"How's he?"
Rick just shrugged, then added, "Hasn't moved much. I think I want
some of what Dana gave him."
Skinner smiled at that. "I'm pretty much stuck until some more reports
come in. Why don't you head out and get something to eat. I'll stay
here until Scully gets back. She said he should be out of it for another
hour or so."
Rick nodded and stood gratefully, trying to stretch the kinks out while
gathering up his papers. On the way out he paused and asked, "Have
you eaten, Walt? I can bring something back for you."
Skinner thought about it and decided that food actually sounded quite
nice. "Yeah that sounds good. And why don't you bring something
for Mulder, too. He'll probably be hungry when he wakes up."
Skinner saw Rick nod as the man headed out the door, then settled the
files he'd brought with him on the desk. There wasn't anything new.
No miracles had occured to explain who was after his agents or why.
But maybe the team had missed something that he could catch. Maybe
there was some avenue they hadn't yet explored. He flipped the file
open for the tenth or eleventh time that day and started reading.
Ten minutes later, he almost fell off his chair in shock when Mulder sat
straight up and started cursing. "God damn it, I'm an idiot. A fucking
idiot."
And before Skinner could speak or even react the younger man was up
and heading for the door. He finally managed a strangled, "Mulder"
that effectively halted the other agent's progress. Mulder turned
quickly, obviously surprised that he wasn't alone, then immediately
flushed an interesting shade of reddish pink upon realizing that Skinner
sat across the room.
"Mulder, it's good to see you feeling better, but do you think you could
fill me in on why exactly you think you're an idiot?"
The younger man got over his shock quickly, turned back to face his
boss and said, "The man was at NASA Langley Research Center from
1978 to 1982."
Mulder paused, staring at Skinner as if his words answered everything.
Skinner shook his head a bit to let the other agent know it didn't. To
his credit, Mulder didn't look the least bit put off when he continued to
explain. "NASA Langley is in Hampton, Virginia. Burgos would
have known the area."
He paused again and this time, Skinner was starting to catch up. "So,
you think Burgos might have made contacts during his time in
Hampton that somehow ties in with the plant explosion?"
Mulder shrugged a bit, then grimaced slightly at the movement.
Skinner realized that while his agent was at least moving more freely
now, he wasn't totally free of the discomfort. Skinner nodded and
stood, then said, "So how will this help in filling in the blanks?"
Mulder took a step forward, gestured vaguely with his right hand.
"We can look into his time at Langley a bit more. Find out who he
worked with and who he knew. Maybe it'll be buried in there
somewhere. Somehow, he lost three and a half years in the early
nineties. I want to know what he was doing during that time."
Skinner nodded in understanding and started gathering his files. He
stood, preparing to join his agent when he realized the younger man
had forgotten something. He stopped what he was doing and stared at
Mulder, careful that his smile didn't come across as a smirk. "Aren't
you forgetting something, Mulder? Aren't you planning on getting
dressed before roaming the halls?"
Skinner couldn't help laughing at his agent's reaction. Mulder jerked
in surprised, and literally did a double take as he looked down at
himself, arms spread slightly to the side. He was missing tie, jacket,
weapon, and shoes. Mulder looked around, obviously chagrined, and
started reclaiming his possessions. Skinner decided to write off the
dirty look his agent shot him as a sign that Mulder was starting to
loosen up around him a bit.
Skinner watched his agent carefully. Saw the slow and deliberate
movements. Saw the furrowed brow and the tightening of the lips as
Mulder bent to pick up his shoes. Imagined the repressed groan that
had to have gone with the gesture.
"So, how are you feeling, Mulder?"
He saw his agent carefully school his features into the trademark
deadpan Mulder look before turning towards him. "Much better, sir.
Thank you."
Skinner sighed internally, knowing that his agent wasn't likely to admit
to anything that might possibly take him out of the action. Wasn't
likely to admit he might need help. Asking for help was a lesson that
Skinner himself had taken a very long time to learn. He didn't think
Mulder was quite to that point yet.
"Mulder, this is your case and I'm certainly not going to take you off it
for bumps and strains as long as it won't endanger you, your partner,
or others. Just remember that it's not a weakness to ask for help
occasionally."
His agent had just finished pulling his jacket on when Skinner said this
and it caused the man to freeze, hands still raised awkwardly, motion
arrested as the words hit home. Then the younger agent moved finally,
straightening his collar and then pulling at his shirt cuffs, one after the
other. Mulder raised his head then to look at his boss, long seconds
later, and in what Skinner knew required a supreme effort, said, in a
soft voice almost too low to hear, "I'm trying."
Skinner looked intently at his agent, remembering their psuedo-
conversation of the night before. And he realized suddenly that he was
filled with affection for the man in front of him and more than that,
with admiration. He'd come to learn what kind of people Mulder and
Scully were in the last few years and he honestly liked them. Cared
about what happened to them. And he knew that Mulder had been
trying very hard to find focus, to find belief, to find his way, with no
complaints and little if any support system.
He smiled kindly at the youger man when he replied, "I know you
have, Mulder. I know it."
He picked up the files off the desk then and gestured to the door,
waiting for the younger man to precede him. Mulder seemed as if he
were going to say something and then changed his mind. His agent
merely nodded and moved to open the door.
Just before Mulder turned the knob, Skinner thought of something he'd
forgotten. "By the way, Mulder. I never had the chance to tell you
yesterday. You and Scully did great. I'm proud of you. Both of
you."
The look of shock and confusion, mixed with embarrassment on his
agent's face made Skinner realize just how rarely Mulder heard praise.
A dressing down was the more typical mode between them. Skinner
decided it was time to make some changes in his dealings with the X-
Files team. They needed to be reminded occasionally just how valuable
they both were. To the Bureau and to him.
*******************************************
Rick caught up to them some thirty minutes later in the command
center, dropped off food for both Mulder and Skinner, and then headed
to his office. Mulder looked up from the turkey sandwich he'd been
working on and gazed across the table to where his partner sat,
thoroughly engrossed in lab reports. Earlier, he had patiently listened
to her opinion of supposedly intelligent and professional agents with no
motivation and no common sense, nodded in all the right places, and
basically just let her wind down. He knew she just needed to voice her
frustration at being so stymied in the investigation. He understood it all
too well.
His musings were interrupted by the ringing of the fax machine in the
corner of the room. He glanced over to it, then back to his partner to
see her smiling at him.
"Mulder, I have a good feeling about this. I think I'm about to get a
free housecleaning."
Mulder shot a look over to where Skinner sat, looking at them both in
obvious confusion. He felt the need to explain suddenly. "Uh, Scully
and I have a little bet over who's going to fill in Burgos' missing years
first."
Skinner just nodded his head, one eyebrow raised, then dropped his
gaze back to the latest forensics report from the shooting.
Mulder sat for a moment before finally giving into curiosity. He stood
to retrieve the fax that was still transmitting just as a knock at the door
sounded. Scully yelled out, "Come in" and the door opened to reveal
the secretary they'd met yesterday. She had several pages of a fax in
her hand and said, "This just came in for you, Dr. Scully."
Mulder retrieved his pages just as Scully retrieved hers, then walked
over to his partner. They stood looking at each other for a moment
before the smiles widened and turned into outright laughter.
Scully spoke first. "Well, partner, looks like a draw to me. Unless, of
course, you'll admit to the fact that my fax did arrive at the Bureau
first, even though it wasn't in my hands."
Mulder shook his head, looking down at her as if in pity, and said,
"Sorry, Scully. You wouldn't really want to win under false pretenses
now would you? But, you know, I think the security cams will
demonstrate that I had mine in hand several seconds before you had
yours."
Mulder saw her hesitate before she replied, almost as if she were
actually considering giving in. "I don't think so partner. Much as I am
curious about that imagination of yours, I think it'll just have to wait 'til
next time." She grinned at him and sat down then, intent on the pages
in her hand.
Mulder slid back into his seat and also started reviewing the bizarre and
fascinating history of one Dr. Ephraim Burgos, spook extraordinaire.
After five minutes of quick perusal, he glanced up and looked at his
partner, eyebrow raised. "CIA, huh? No wonder he disappeared from
the records."
He stopped as he realized that Scully was staring at him in confusion,
her forehead creased and lips pursed.
"Not the CIA, Mulder. The NSA."
Now it was Mulder's turn to be confused. He looked over the sheets
in his hand once more, even as Scully reviewed her own. Shook his
head quickly. Picked them up then and handed them across the table,
accepting hers in exchange.
Skinner's impatient voice interrupted them a few minutes later.
"Agents? Think you could fill me in here?"
Mulder didn't know what to say. Had no idea how to resolve the two
completely disparate reports. He looked back to his partner and shook
his head in frustration, then raised his shoulders in a 'hell if I know'
kind of way. His partner turned to their boss to answer.
"Sir, I had our people in DC looking into this and Agent Mulder had
asked some friends of his to check into it at the same time. These
reports, which are both incredibly detailed and complete, are in total
contradiction. According to these, this man Burgos was in two
different places, working for two different agencies, in two completely
different positions, at the exact same time."
Skinner stared at her for a second, dropped his gaze to the papers in her
hand, over to those in Mulder's, then up to the younger man's face.
He couldn't help but wonder how they managed it? How the hell did
they manage to get involved in what was possibly a multi-agency,
government conspiracy on a case that had caused absolutely no
excitement and no problems to the Bureau for more than a month
before they'd gotten involved.
Mulder had been watching his boss and knew exactly what was
running through the man's mind. A smile crept to his face as he said,
in as innocent a voice as possible, "Well, sir, you can't blame us this
time around. If you'll remember, I didn't even want to get involved."
Mulder was suddenly glad for the drugs Scully had been pushing at
him as he had to suddenly twist to the right to avoid being flattened by
the half filled bottle of spring water that came at him. Jeez, some
people just couldn't take a joke.
*******************************************
Friday, 7:21 p.m.
Richmond Bureau, Command Center
Mulder had been alone for the past half hour or so and was now pacing
from one end of the room to the other, occasionally making an entire
circuit just for variety. The walking helped him relax and was
particularly effective for stretching out overtaxed muscles. Something
was screwy here. Government conspiracies were one thing, but this
was just bizarre. It was obvious that at least one if not both of the
histories uncovered were false. The question was which and if the
answer were both, then what was the real history?
Scully had been more than happy to throw the entire question back into
his lap with the excuse that she had to go to the labs to see where they
were with her requests. Skinner had gotten copies of both possible
histories and then had headed to Rick's office to see whether the
information could help with the shooting investigation in any way.
That left Mulder to somehow dig up the real story.
Just who the hell was this guy? Mulder walked to the end of the long
conference table and picked up a few of the sheets of paper that lay
there. He decided to start at the beginning, practically the very
beginning, so dropped them back and rummaged through the file for
something else. He pulled the thick sheaf of papers out from under the
pile, then picked up a stack of 3" x 5" cards and a pen. As long as he
could remember, he'd used this approach for tackling a sticky problem
that, by its very nature, had more details than a single person could
keep track of.
Mulder opened the file to the first page and wrote on a card:
1)
Ephraim Jose Garcia Burgos
Born: 5/21/50, San Juan, Puerto Rico
Parents: Emelda and Jose Burgos
Father's Profession: U.S. Army, Enlisted
Mulder then proceeded through the file, identifying each major
milestone and recording it on a card. He finally got to the late sixties
and wrote:
6)
1968-1972
Iowa State, Ames, Iowa
partial scholarship - Mathematics Department
switched to Engineering, 1969
admitted to Mechanical Engineering, 1970
grad. 1972, With Honors
The next card read:
7)
1972-1974
Stanford University, California
Research Assistant, Electrical Engineering
M.S. Thesis: Development of Artificial Neural Network-based Fuzzy
Logic Controller for High Speed Network Protocols
M.S. Advisor: Dr. Jackson Hardison
Mulder looked at what he'd just written and shook his head. He had
no idea what it meant. Didn't recognize any of the words. He made a
note on a separate sheet to check into this Dr. Hardison, find out where
the grant money came from that supported Burgos during his Master's
degree, and then moved on. But right before he started on the next
card, he had a thought and jotted another note on the pad of paper
beside him. Burgos was going through school as Vietnam raged.
Mulder decided it would be worth checking into whether the man had
been called and got out of it. Not that it really mattered, but he
recognized it as a loose end that he wanted tied. He went on to the next
card then.
8)
1974-1977
Georgia Tech, Atlanta, Georgia
Research Assistant, Aerospace Engineering
Ph.D. Dissertation: Parallel Genetic Algorithm Development for Large-
scale Complex Mixed Discrete/Continuous Optimization
Ph.D. Advisor: Dr. Jasbir Hajela
Mulder practically cringed as he laboriously wrote this one down. He
wasn't sure that any of this was useful to him since he had no idea
what it all meant, but what the heck. Maybe the guys would know.
Mulder jotted down another couple of questions, essentially the same
as he had for the last card. Who was Dr. Hajela, who paid for the
R.A. position, etc.
The next card was interesting since the fellow went to work
immediately following his Ph.D. in Hampton, Virginia. Mulder wrote:
9)
1977-1984
NASA Langley, Hampton, Virginia
High Speed Wind Tunnel Facility
Research Engineer
10)
1984-1988
General Dynamics, Ft Worth, Texas
Research Engineer and Special Teams Leader
Advanced Concept Development Team
11)
1988-1992
DoD, Washington, D.C.
Program Director
High Performance Computing
12)
1992-1995
????
possible CIA
possible NSA
possible government agency of dubious intent
13)
1995-present
DARPA, Washington, D.C.
Program Director
Emerging Methods and Technologies
Mulder stared at the cards, again amazed that some of the places and
positions Burgos had held seemed so foreign to him. It seemed that
every hole he filled in this guy's background just opened a whole new
set of questions and that, quite possibly, they were questions that he
wouldn't be able to understand the answers to, even if he managed to
find them.
Mulder shook his head in exasperation for several long seconds, then
pushed back from the table while rounding the cards up in a stack. He
turned in a circle to look at the walls of the conference center, then
headed towards the end of the circuit where the previous team had been
creating their hypothesis for what had actually happened. He cleared
off a space some ten feet wide and then claimed the upper left hand
corner of it.
He'd just decided what to put up when something dawned on him,
causing him to freeze in place. His breath caught and he stared for
several long seconds at the bare wall. He stood straight then and
walked forward. Placed his right hand on the now clear surface. The
previous team had been so sure they had the right answers. Had
posted their hypothesis up on the wall as testament to their surety. But
they'd been wrong. And now he was starting over -- building a new
hypothesis. New beliefs.
He ran his hand over the smooth wall once more and then looked at the
cards he'd made out. It was time to start building again.
He had realized as he was writing out various details on the cards that
there were links that were obvious already between some of them and
he was pretty sure that as more information was obtained regarding
funding and the faculty advisors that even more links would be
established. Time to plan ahead.
He pinned the first five in a column on the left, leaving at least six
inches between each as he progressed down. The next three,
pertaining the Burgos' education he put in a second column, with larger
spacing between them, of at least ten or so inches. Numbers nine
through thirteen he placed down the last column, but in a semi-circle so
that there'd be plenty of room to add more cards later and also to make
it easier to create the physical links he intended to make. He stepped
back to see the result.
1 9
6
2 10
3 11
7
4 12
5 13
8
Seen this way, there were some straightforward links he could make
immediately. He searched around the room, not seeing what he
wanted, so headed to the door. Before he made it, though, it swung
open. His partner took one step into the room and then stopped
abruptly when she realized Mulder had been heading for the door.
"Hey. Where you going? I was hoping to show you some of the lab
results."
Mulder quickly decided his search for string could wait. He stepped
back a bit, saying, "Just needed a few supplies. Nothing that can't
wait." He gestured to a clear spot on the table down to the left and
pulled out two chairs.
"What'd you find?"
Scully seemed quite pleased with herself as she spread out five pieces
of paper in front of them. She pointed to the first saying, "Here's the
tox screen that I ordered." She pointed to a series of numbers and then
to a chart with spikes and valleys. "Here, here, and here, you see these
spikes?" She waited for Mulder to nod before going on. "Let's just
say that not only aren't they supposed to be there, but at these levels,
he had to have been immobilized almost immediately."
Mulder watched as his partner ran her finger over the graph, then
picked up the second sheet. She shook her head again before turning
to him.
"I'm not even sure what this is that was used. I have them running
more tests to try to nail it down exactly. We've found the constituent
parts, at least those that are still showing up after all this time, but it's
just not familiar. I've got the analysis people running comparisons to
try to pattern match. I'm not holding my breath, though."
She paused and looked at Mulder once again. He got the impression
she was about to say something very serious and very important. He
took a deep breath before speaking, wanting to encourage her to share
her suspicions.
"What, Scully? What are you thinking?"
He watched as she stared back down at the paper on the table for fifteen
or so seconds, before turning back to him. She seemed hesitant and he
couldn't imagine why.
"Mulder, the elements that show up here are extremely unusual. I am
sure .... positive .... that this drug that was used was orally
administered - somehow. That it immobilized Handley virtually at
once. But didn't affect brain functioning at all. It's reminiscent of the
zombie drug that researchers have been investigating ever since it was
discovered in South America."
Mulder had questions but sensed that his partner wasn't done yet, so he
just nodded in encouragement. She took a deep breath, then plunged
ahead.
"I think it's experimental, or at the very least, something that hasn't
been approved by the FDA."
That pause again and then the pay-off.
"Maybe something developmental. Funded by someone or some
agency that has plenty of money to throw around."
He understood then why she had hesitated. It wasn't like there were
large numbers of agencies that would fund research for the type of drug
Scully had described. Pharmaceutical companies certainly wouldn't be
interested in a drug that leaves the person exposed fully aware of
what's happening to him while being effectively paralyzed. It wouldn't
be marketable so it wouldn't be profitable. So if it wasn't developed
by a private company, that pretty much left federal agencies or research
hospitals. But if a researcher were to develop such a drug, their
interest would pretty much be limited to getting a paper or two out of it.
If it couldn't be approved through the FDA, it wouldn't be of much
worth to them either. That narrowed the field drastically. The profit
was the thing, but the federal government measured profit in
innumerable ways, rarely even including dollars and cents.
Mulder looked from the paper to Scully, then nodded quickly, sharply.
"I understand."
He pulled on his lower lip for a moment, then sat up straighter. Turned
to his partner decisively.
"Leave this to someone else now, Scully. Turn it over to someone you
think is reasonably competent and just leave it. Let them make the
inquiries. Let them make the calls and ask the questions. It sort of
falls in the category of the shooting. We know it's important. We
know it ties into the explosion. But we're only two people and I still
think our best bet is to work on that. The explosion. And I'm
convinced that all these other questions will eventually get solved when
we solve that one."
He'd been staring at his partner, watching her expression carefully,
half afraid that she'd want to pursue it. He needn't have worried. She
nodded almost immediately and even smiled before speaking.
"I agree. We must be doing something right if they're worried enough
to come after us in broad daylight. With witnesses, no less. And
anyway, I have more news."
She held up the third piece of paper then and moved it on top of the
first two. Mulder could see a two little sketches. The top one was
someone's rendition of how Handley's body was positioned in relation
to the weapon when it was shot. The second showed where the
weapon should have dropped, along with a little x showing where it
had actually been found.
"Ballistics finished finally. The angle was right for him to have shot
himself with his right hand, but if he had, there's no way the weapon
would have fallen where it did."
He had his mouth open, ready to ask a clarifying question, when she
added, "Not with the left either."
Mulder smiled, wondering just when it was that his partner started
reading him so well. How was it that she could know what he was
thinking, even when he didn't usually know himself. She picked up
the fourth sheet of paper and moved it to the top of the little stack.
Pointed to some of the numbers there.
"Gun shot residue was found on his right hand in pretty much the right
places. Except for about a three by two inch area where, for some
reason, his hand must have been shielded."
She grinned even wider when she drew out the 'for some reason' part.
Mulder laughed a bit, enjoying the fact that his partner had such a
worthwhile day, in spite of how it had started.
"Excellent, Scully. I'd say you're battin' a thousand. That's three for
three."
Mulder stared at the fifth piece of paper, wondering if she could keep
up her average. Raised his eyebrows questioningly, then reached out
and moved it to the top of the pile for her.
"Okay, this is just me being obsessive. I figured that the way it
happened was that Handley was in the shower. He either finished and
headed into the bedroom to change, with a towel wrapped around his
waist, or he heard something, cut the shower short, then went to
investigate, again with the towel. Now, I tend to think it was the first
option because we saw the towel lying on the floor by the bed where
the clothes were laid out. We also saw the first drawer of the dresser
open. So I figure he came out, got some underclothes out, walked
back to the bed and started getting dressed. But someone comes up
from behind and somehow administers this drug without leaving a
mark on him."
Mulder nodded, agreeing so far with her hypothesis. Watched as she
licked her lips, then bit her lip a bit.
"Okay, so here's where it gets a bit more speculative. This drug had to
have been incredibly fast acting. So Handley's standing there one
minute and the next is completely incapacitated, possibly wearing
shorts, possibly wearing nothing at all."
Mulder was following, even starting to speculate where she might be
headed. "Go on, Scully."
She took a deep breath, then said, "So if it's one guy there, he had to
grab Handley to prevent any bruises or damage from a fall, which
would have been a dead giveaway in an autopsy that something was
amiss. Or, he had to guide Handley to the bed, which was soft and
would cushion him, or there were two guys who grabbed Handley and
guided him carefully to the bed or the floor."
Mulder nodded again, agreeing with the options she'd outlined.
"So, there's this new procedure that's sometimes used to try to identify
fingerprints on body tissue. It's highly controversial. Involves
blacklight and coating the body in a solution a priori."
God, he loved it when she used Latin. Mulder smiled, knowing now
why she'd looked so hesitant in describing this final page and its
significance to him.
"So you tried it anyway, in spite of the fact that it's highly
controversial, generally suspect and essentially unprovable. Why, Dr.
Scully! I'm shocked. That doesn't sound like you."
He paused only for a moment, watching the rapid intake of breath
which he knew was going to precede a defensive statement, then said,
"So what did you find?"
She let the breath out again, grimaced as if in distaste, then smiled
again.
"Actually, I found what appears to be a right hand print under
Handley's right arm that would be commensurate with someone who
had wrapped their arm around him to hold him up."
Mulder picked the paper up a few inches off the pile and then let it drop
back down.
"Slam dunk, Scully. That's four for four. Still batting a thousand."
His partner adopted a pained expression, then said, "Mulder, do you
have any idea how many metaphors you just mixed? Can you try to
keep your sports separate, please, and try to limit any sports references
to one a sentence."
He laughed again and then sat back in the chair. He was tired, still in
some degree of pain, but it dawned on him suddenly that he'd spent
hours absorbed in this case and hadn't once fallen into his pit of
blackness. In fact, as far as he could assess, it wasn't even looming
close by tonight. It had been a long time since he'd felt this good. Too
long.
Mulder turned in the seat so he could face his partner more head on,
then said, "Hey, Scully. I still owe you food somewhere, don't I?
How about it? Are you hungry?"
He watched her expression lighten and then she replied, "Absolutely. I
thought you'd never bring it up."
She started gathering papers quickly, so Mulder decided to get
whatever he needed that night in order and pack up for the evening.
Scully was already standing by the door when he turned from the table.
She looked very hungry and very anxious to leave. But he realized
they were forgetting something. Someone, actually.
"Hey, Scully. You have any idea where Skinner is? We should track
him down, don't you think?"
*******************************************
Friday, 10:43 p.m.
Richmond, Marriot Hotel
Mulder finished what he'd been writing with a flourish, then set the
pen down. He'd completed preparing initial lists for further
background information on all people and places in Burgos' past. Rick
had promised he'd push the agents assigned to the case to expedite the
searches, so they should start getting information in by tomorrow
afternoon at the latest. Mulder glanced around the room and suddenly
felt self-conscious. It was something of a mess. He'd shed his clothes
pretty much wherever he'd been standing before taking his shower
after dinner and the room now showed it. It had been awhile since
he'd cared about such things. For some reason, it was important to
him now.
He stood, careful not to move too quickly for muscles that still weren't
a hundred percent, and started picking things up. He hung his suit
jacket in the closet, threw the shirt in a dry cleaning bag, carefully hung
the tie over the back of a chair. He moved the shoes to the closet, even
going so far as to untie the laces. The socks joined the undershirt and
other unmentionables in a laundry bag. He looked around again,
surveying his accomplishment. Not bad. Could be better.
He picked up the suitcase from the floor and dragged it to one of the
beds, then opened the luggage rack in the closet and put it on top. The
running shoes got picked up from where they'd been thrown in a
corner and were placed next to the dress shoes. Mulder looked around
again, finally satisfied, then moved over to his bed and sank onto it,
reaching for the remote. It looked like the Bulls pulled it out again in
the last few minutes. He turned off the mute and then quickly lowered
the sound, sending a glance to the adjoining room door. Scully had
turned in about an hour ago and he didn't want to wake her.
He stared at the television, not really paying attention to the images
passing across the screen. He thought about his partner, and a small
smile reached his face. Thinking about Scully always made him smile.
He considered checking on her, quickly, quietly, and then decided
against it. It had become a habit when she was in the hospital and even
earlier, when she was sick. But she never knew it. Checking on her in
the dark quiet of the night had brought him reassurance. Security. It
reaffirmed that she was still there, with him, and wasn't going
anywhere for at least for that night.
Mulder jerked then at a soft knocking at the door. He glanced at the
time. 11:27 p.m. Who the hell could that be? But before he even
reached it, he knew who it probably was. He glanced around the
room, again self-conscious, then opened it. Skinner was there, still
dressed in the suit he'd been wearing all day, but with tie loosened and
the top couple buttons of his shirt unfastened. He looked tired,
slumped there in the doorway.
"Sir, how are you?"
Mulder stepped out the way and gestured to his room, allowing his
boss to enter.
"Is everything all right, sir?"
Skinner walked wearily to the chair he'd sat in the night before and
sank into it.
"Everything's fine. I just came from a meeting with Rick. I'm afraid
his family's not too happy with me right about now."
Mulder smiled at that, imagining Rick's kids asking Mommy where
Daddy was. He settled into the other chair, carefully moving the tie
that had lain over the back to the table. He waited for Skinner to
continue, knowing that the man was here for a purpose. But his boss'
next words surprised him.
Skinner turned towards him, chin propped on his left fist, and asked,
"How are you doin', Mulder?"
Mulder was so caught by surprise that he sat open mouthed for a good
ten or so seconds before answering. He would have bet a week's
paycheck that Skinner wanted to run something by him about the case.
Or wanted to get an update on the day's activities. They hadn't really
talked about the case over dinner, after all.
"I'm fine, sir. Thank you."
The older man nodded, then sank back into the seat a little further. It
looked like he was planning on staying for a while. Mulder thought
back to the previous night's visit and decided just to wait it out. He
owed the man that much. He got a little more comfortable in his own
chair and crossed his right leg over the left at the knee. Then dropped
his head back so it rested against the top of the chair's back. He didn't
have long to wait before Skinner started speaking. Almost musing,
actually.
"I was thinking about you this afternoon, Mulder."
Mulder's eyebrows flew up and he turned his head slightly to catch the
older man's expression. He wasn't sure if he should be worried or
not, but having your boss thinking about you couldn't be good, could
it? It certainly hadn't been in the past, that was for sure.
But Skinner didn't seem upset in any way. In fact, he appeared to be
smiling a little.
"Mulder, do you know the first time I ever saw you?"
Mulder considered whether that was a rhetorical question or not and
then decided it probably was.
"You were still at the academy, had been there just a few months. I'm
not really sure how long. Anyway, you remember the Malloy case?"
Again, Mulder figured this was rhetorical. How the hell could he have
forgotten it, after all? It was what propelled him into the Behavioral
Sciences Unit so quickly after graduating the academy. But he
certainly had no recollection of meeting Skinner at the time, even
though he remembered Skinner had been involved as an ASAC in that
case. He turned to face his boss more fully, curious now about where
the conversation was going.
"Did you ever wonder, Mulder, how it was that you kept finding stray
case files lying around? Did you ever wonder how it was that you
were approved to work on that case even though you were a wet-
behind-the-ears, cocky, obnoxious, irritating, annoying, know-it-all
kid?"
Mulder was completely confused now. Yes he had wondered, but he'd
also figured that serendipity had played a major role. Now he was
beginning to question whether perhaps that was incorrect.
Skinner turned to look at him, smile a bit broader now.
"What I realized today, Agent Mulder, was that I've been appreciating
your talents for quite a long time. Have used them repeatedly, but have
told you that only a couple times during all these years."
Skinner's expression turned a bit more serious then and he seemed
oblivious to Mulder's discomfort.
"Rick and I were reviewing some of the details of the shooting and
subsequent accident this evening. I don't want to talk about that now,
we'll go over some things tomorrow. But it dawned on me just how
close you and Scully came to getting killed. I know you've been in
danger before, plenty of times. Way the hell too often, in fact. But I
was here this time, listening to it on the phone, seeing the results, and
now -- working the case."
He locked gazes with Mulder then.
"It sort of drove it home, Mulder. So, I want you to know that you
and Scully deserve recognition for saving that woman and her baby.
You both did great. And it's appreciated."
Skinner shifted in his seat again and then pushed himself up and out of
it. He put both hands to the small of his back, and stretched tiredly.
Mulder saw the older man look around the room before turning back to
his agent.
"I just wanted to let you know that I've appreciated your contributions
to the Bureau for a long time. You're a good man, Mulder, and it's
been my honor to work with you."
Mulder couldn't move. Couldn't figure out what to say. He had to
fight to control his breathing as Skinner's words sunk in. It had been a
very long time since a man he respected had said such nice things to
him. And about him. He wasn't used to this. Didn't really know
how to respond. He struggled to sit up straighter, dropping both feet
to the ground. He considered standing but wasn't sure he could
summon the coordination right now.
"I .... Thank you, sir. Thank you for that."
Skinner merely nodded and headed to the door, moving slowly,
obviously exhausted. And Mulder realized that despite that exhaustion,
despite just having come from a late night meeting after a tiring couple
of days, his boss had come to see how he was doing and to tell him he
was appreciated. Jesus, it was like Christmas.
Skinner had the door open and was ready to leave when Mulder said,
"Sir. Really, thank you."
The older man smiled back at him and nodded. Then said, "Have a
good night, Mulder. I'll see you in the morning."
*******************************************
Saturday, 8:47 a.m.
Richmond Bureau, Command Center
The morning came much too quickly for Skinner. As an AD with the
Bureau, he certainly had worked through plenty of weekends. It was
nothing new to be up and at work at eight on a Saturday morning. But
the lack of sleep coupled with worry over his agents and the incredible
frustration of running into roadblocks at every turn of the investigation
was really starting to get to him. It gave him an all new appreciation
for the frustration Mulder and Scully must feel week in and week out.
He shook his head at the thought, then raised his head to look across
the table at his two agents.
They sat side by side, conferring quietly over pages that lay between
them on the table. Since it was Saturday, he had suggested that
everyone come comfortable and both his agents had taken him up on
the suggestion. Mulder wore worn jeans and a long sleeved navy blue
shirt with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows. The running shoes
looked more tattered than the jeans and seemed to be evidence of the
man's unwillingness to let go of things. Skinner grinned a bit at the
thought and considered Scully for a moment. She was dressed a bit
more formally, in fitted navy blue pants and a white T-shirt. To
complete the picture of yuppiedom, she'd worn loafers with no socks.
He glanced at his watch and wondered where Rick was. Probably
kissing his wife and kids good-bye for yet another day, trying to
explain to his three year old how his mean boss was making him work
round the clock. And just as this thought passed through his mind, the
door opened and Rick breezed in, balancing a tray of something in his
hands, a stuffed briefcase slung over his shoulder and bouncing on his
back. Rick smiled broadly as he entered and awkwardly set the tray on
the table.
"Good morning, everyone. Listen, Jenny insisted I bring these in for
you. I know it sounds cliché, but she made cookies yesterday. I have
no idea where she found the time with our four monsters wreaking
havoc, but there you go."
Skinner grinned at the sight of Rick , looking so pleased with himself.
Damn, it was good to see at least one person in the Bureau with a
stable, normal life. And then his gaze turned to his two agents and the
sight was bittersweet. Dressed as they were, they could have been any
young thirty-something couple. But he knew that with their job, their
life, they might never get that chance. At least he'd had the chance,
even if it hadn't worked for him.
He chastised himself for thinking such depressing thoughts, stood and
reached for a handful of cookies. "Tell her thank you for us." He then
slid the platter down in front of his two agents.
Rick nodded and sat part way between Mulder and Skinner, then
started unloading his packed briefcase. He glanced first to the right,
then the left and asked, "So what's on tap for today?"
Skinner saw that both Mulder and Scully were looking at him,
obviously waiting for him to answer.
"I think first a quick report from each of us would be in order. I know
Mulder and Scully haven't yet heard about our findings yesterday and
I'd certainly like to know what they discovered about Burgos. So,
Rick, how about if you give an overview of the shooting
investigation?"
Rick nodded and started pulling files out from his stack. He turned to
look to his left, making eye contact with the other two agents before
starting, then picked up the first file.
"Let's start with ballistics. First surprise is that there were two
different weapons being fired at various times. Best guess is that one
of the shooters was somewhere in the support structure of the bridge at
the far end from where you entered. The other was on the far bank, a
bit downstream. He's the one that must have had you pinned on the
shore when you went for your jog, Mulder."
Mulder sent an exaggerated ha, ha Rick's way and grabbed for some
cookies, then paused part way there and sank back in his seat, a look of
confusion on his face.
"Then why didn't he shoot at us in the water?"
Rick glanced over at Skinner before answering. Skinner realized that a
smirk had found its way to his face and tried to replace it with his
professional look. Trust Mulder to pick up on that detail so fast. He
glanced back to Rick and nodded, encouraging the man to continue.
"Actually, Mulder, we have no idea. We speculated a bit last night.
Best we could come up with was the guy maybe figured it was a good
time to help out his partner or maybe he got scared off temporarily. We
might never know. I think we should just be happy about it though,
whatever the reason behind the delay."
Rick moved around in his seat a bit and stretched his long legs under
the table before continuing.
"Ballistics couldn't put everything together since most of the slugs
were unretrievable. But they were absolutely clear on there being two
shooters."
He glanced back at Mulder and Scully then.
"That's why, when we got the guy on the far bank and went back for
him just five minutes later, he was gone. The second guy must have
driven up and grabbed the body. Makes you wonder just what kind of
people these were, huh?"
Scully interjected a single word. "Professionals."
All three men in the room nodded. Rick paused a moment then said,
"We were able to get some blood trace. Plenty of blood, actually. So,
we have DNA and blood type. Isn't doing us any good right now, but
if anything ever goes to trial, it might somehow be helpful."
Rick reached out with one hand and grabbed a couple cookies while
flipping pages with the other.
"So, witness reports. We've combed the area for anyone who might
have seen or heard anything. Nada. No luck whatsoever. Closest we
came to was a guy who lives in a neighborhood just beyond the bridge
who'd been planning on doing some fishing. Said he drove over the
bridge right around the time you were in the water. He didn't know
about that of course. He saw the damage on the bridge and said he
remembered being surprised the cops hadn't arranged for temporary
blockades to be constructed."
Rick snorted and Skinner knew exactly what the man was thinking.
'Idiot'. He certainly had that thought himself when they originally
interviewed Mr. Unaware.
"Anyway, it's possible that his driving by at just that moment caused
the shooter to back off temporarily. Which means that indirectly, he
saved you."
Mulder sat up in his chair and leaned forward a bit, then said in
complete seriousness, "Maybe we should send him a card."
He turned to his partner and said, "Whatta ya say, Scully? A Hallmark
memory?"
Skinner watched as Scully rolled her eyes and then looked back to
Rick, unfazed. Rick, on the other hand, looked almost as if he were in
pain. Rick obviously hadn't been exposed to Mulder humor enough to
appreciate it. The Richmond agent turned back to his files, then started
in again.
"We've also interviewed Amanda Priestly."
Rick paused, thinking again about the woman's story. Thinking about
just how close it had been for everyone on that bridge.
"She wasn't really able to add anything that would help track down the
shooters. All she could tell us was that all of a sudden she lost control
of the vehicle. The little boy, Robert, was evidently screaming about
something or other and she never even heard any shots. She thought
her tire blew. And that she was going to end up killing her little boy as
well as ....'
Rick paused dramatically and leaned towards Mulder and Scully before
continuing. ".... that nice couple in the other car."
Skinner was amused to see both his agents grimace and glance at each
other. And then noticed the smiles that softened their faces.
Rick shuffled his papers a bit, then said, "Our analysts reconstructed
everything that happened as best they could, but nothing they came up
with really adds anything. So, that's about it, unfortunately. You
know we retrieved both cars. But nothing there helps us except for the
ballistics information."
Rick sat back in his seat and shrugged quickly.
"That's it, really. Pretty much dead ends all around so we're in wait
and see mode."
Skinner nodded, looked to see how his agents were taking the news,
then leaned forward.
"Thank you , Rick. Mulder, Scully? Do you have any questions?"
His agents merely shook their heads.
"Okay, then perhaps you can fill us in on what you discovered
yesterday."
He watched as the two exchanged a glance and then, somehow, were
able to agree on who would go first. Scully evidently drew the short
straw. The next half hour was spent reviewing forensics reports on the
murder of Bob Handley. Skinner felt a bit sorry for the poor lab
technicians and lab supervisor who had originally dragged their feet in
getting Scully what she wanted. He imagined that they'd probably
learnt their lesson pretty well. Then it was Mulder's turn.
Skinner was a bit surprised when Mulder pushed back from the table
and headed to the far side of the room. It became clear why as he
gestured to the wall there. As the younger man started speaking, the
other agents stood and moved closer to be able to see the information
more clearly.
"What I'm creating here is a dependency matrix, essentially. Each card
represents a pivotal time period in Burgos' life and has his location,
position, company, and any other pertinent information listed. Last
night, I drew up some lists of holes that needed to be filled. I've
already sent them off to our people. A lot of it pertains to his college
years."
Mulder gestured to the middle of the area with a pointed finger. "You
can see in this middle column here that he worked on some pretty
sophisticated projects as a student. And he was funded for both his
M.S. and Ph.D. as a Research Assistant. We know he's missing three
and a half years. My guess is that he made contacts in school and
earlier in his career that led to his being assigned, or appointed, or
whatever, to somewhere for those three and a half years. Somewhere
where someone doesn't like such things advertised. So if we can track
down the money trail from his college days, as well as his various
contacts during his work years, we might find the tie in that'll lead us
to filling in the blanks. And will also lead us to Burgos."
Mulder paused and scanned the room before continuing. "He's
disappeared evidently. No sign of him at work or his home for the past
couple days. I think we've definitely found the link to the explosion.
We just need to figure out what it means."
*******************************************
A little more than a half hour later they were wrapping up a
brainstorming session that had added even more tasks to Mulder's list
when a knock sounded at the door. A young agent swung the door
open, then and searched out the room quickly for Rick.
"Agent Donovan, sir, the Richmond PD would like to know if they're
clear to open the bridge area."
Rick glanced at Skinner first, making sure the man had no objections,
then turned back to his agent. "Sure, Andy. Tell them they're clear.
Thank you." He paused a moment, thinking, and then stopped the kid.
"Hey, Andy, wait a minute. Hang on." He turned to Mulder then.
"How about these latest items? I can get Andy here working on them.
He's volunteered to work today, along with a couple others." Rick
said it with a smile, seemingly oblivious to the pained expression on
the young agent's face.
Mulder considered it, glanced at the kid, then said, "Sure. I was going
to send the requests off to DC, but they're a bit swamped right now. It
would be a big help to get some of it going in house. Thanks, Rick."
He picked up a couple of the sheets and quickly put check marks by the
items that hadn't yet been assigned to anyone, then slid them across the
table. He looked at the young agent and said, "Could you make a copy
of that and get the original back to me, please?"
He waited for the nod and then started explaining what exactly was
needed for each of the checked items. "As soon as you start getting
anything, bring it to me. You don't have to wait until you get it all."
The kid nodded and replied, "Yes, sir. I'll get right on it."
Mulder waited until the young agent left, then turned to his partner.
"What's on for today, Scully?"
Since he'd suggested that she leave the Handley case to someone else
temporarily, he wasn't sure just what she planned to do.
His partner turned to him with a smile and said, "Mulder, I think
someone needs to keep you out of trouble, so I figured I would work
here with you today. Yesterday, I requested every journal paper,
thesis, dissertation, conference paper, and book that's been published
as a result of Dr. Samuel's research project on the diagnostic system.
And we also have Handley's college thesis and dissertation coming, as
well as all his research papers. I figured I'd try to make sense of some
of it all."
Mulder stared at her for several seconds before shaking his head and
replying. "Jeez, Scully. Sounds like fun. Too bad I'll be busy with
other things or I'd help you out on that." He leaned far to the right to
avoid any elbows that might be coming his way and then looked across
the table to his boss.
"Sir, what about you?"
Skinner looked down at his watch, then seemed to wrestle with a
decision.
"I'm heading back to DC for the afternoon."
Mulder was surprised by the news and he realized he was also a bit
disappointed. He'd gotten used to Skinner being around. Even had
come to like it. To feel reassured by the man's presence. He looked
up from his hands to see Skinner watching him.
His boss added, "It's possible that I can clarify the CIA versus NSA
question there. It's worth a try at least. I'll be back either this evening
or tomorrow morning. I'll touch base with you later this afternoon."
Mulder nodded and looked over to his partner before responding.
Giving her the chance to speak if she wanted. She didn't.
"All right, sir. You know where we'll be."
Skinner glanced at his watch once more and said, "There's a flight in
about an hour, so I'll head out now."
He turned to Rick and said, "You going to keep these two in line while
I'm gone?"
The twin snorts from farther down the table were loud in the quiet
room.
*******************************************
Lunchtime came and went and the reports started coming in faster than
Mulder could keep up with them. He began a procedure whereby each
report was assigned an alphanumeric string at the top right of the page
that corresponded to a particular card number followed by a letter, with
each new piece of data or each new report assigned its own letter. He
picked up the top sheet in the stack of the latest reports, saw that it
corresponded to Burgos' elementary school days while he lived in Fort
Bragg, North Carolina, and wrote 3-B on the upper right corner, since
it was the second report received that corresponded to that time period.
He logged it onto the pad next to him, placed the sheet on the correct
stack and moved on. He wasn't doing anything more than skimming
the information right now since he had decided it was more important
to organize and log it for future reference. He'd seen way too many
cases whose solution was compromised because of messy handling of
the evidence and data.
He continued through the latest stack for another thirty minutes and
was just preparing to actually start reading a few of the reports in depth
when yet another delivery was made. He sat facing another two inch
stack of papers and suddenly got disgusted. He needed a break. He
looked over to the other end of the table to see Scully completely
absorbed in whatever it was she was reading. That end of the table had
piles of papers, hardbound theses and dissertations and books. He
could barely even see his partner behind the wall of paper.
"Hey, Scully."
Her head jerked upright and she took a moment to focus on him.
"Yeah?"
"I'm going for a walk. Want anything anywhere?"
His partner glanced around, then said, "How about something to
drink? Something cold."
He nodded and pushed himself up and away from the table, then
started towards the door slowly. He was still just a little stiff, but that
was it. No other real evidence of their life threatening experience the
other day. He glanced at Scully just before closing the door and took
in the Band-Aid on the forehead. He'd stopped wearing his, since his
bump on the head had been just that. A bump, a little blood. Nothing
big. He'd hit molded plastic, after all. But Scully had hit the frame of
the window. Metal. And it dawned on him that he hadn't even asked
how she was doing. What the hell kind of friend was he, anyway?
He strode down the hall, a bit frustrated at his own insensitivity, not
really even sure where he was going. And then he heard something
totally unexpected. Children's laughter. What the hell?
Mulder rounded the corner and saw Rick, a woman he took to be the
man's wife, and four kids in various states of rambunctiousness. He
stopped dead in his tracks, not wanting to intrude, but was too late.
Rick had already caught sight of him.
"Hey, Mulder, come over here. I'll introduce you to my brood."
Mulder felt incredibly uncomfortable. He wasn't used to getting
personal with the people he worked with. Well, except for Scully of
course. And maybe Skinner a bit. But other than that, he had always
maintained a strictly professional relationship. It was too late now.
There was no escape. He walked the rest of the way to Rick's office
and came to a stop as one of the little boys pushed a stroller out in front
of him. Not exactly angels, were Rick's children.
Mulder couldn't help the smile that surfaced as he took in the impish
grin of the kid. The grin was wiped away as his mother grabbed his
hand and pulled him over to stand next to her. Rick seemed
impervious to it all.
"Fox Mulder, this is my wife, Jenny."
Rick paused a moment to allow awkward handshakes and before he
could go on, his wife said, "Agent Mulder, it's such a pleasure to meet
you. Rick's told me so much about you and your partner. You're both
heroes for saving that woman and her baby."
Mulder felt himself flushing red but managed a polite response.
"Hey, Mulder. These monsters here are Alison, Steven, Jacob, and
the little one's Emma."
Mulder nodded to them all, said hello, then stood awkwardly. Rick
must have sensed his discomfort because he then said, "Didn't mean to
hold you up, Mulder. Where are you off to? Everything going okay?"
Mulder nodded, made polite conversation for another minute and then
excused himself. He headed back the way he'd come, but wasn't
ready to go into the conference room just yet. He still needed that
walk, still needed to get Scully something to drink, and now, he
needed to figure out just what it was about that interaction with Rick
and his family that disturbed him so greatly.
He glanced at his watch and decided he had time for a real walk so
headed outside. As he made his way down the steps in front of the old
brick building, it dawned on him that he'd hardly been outside the last
couple days. They'd gone straight from hotel to the Bureau office and
back again. And it was a shame, really, because this was a beautiful
city.
He took off in a random direction, and just wandered. There was a
park ahead and he decided to sit for a bit. Just relax and think. He
aimed for it, careful of cars as he cut across the street, and rolled his
sleeves up a bit farther. A long-sleeve shirt probably hadn't been the
smartest decision that morning considering he was in the south in late
spring. It was damned hot and damned muggy.
He picked out an empty park bench and sank onto it. He leaned back,
stretched his arms out on the back of the bench and crossed his right
leg over the left. He dropped his head back then, enjoying the rustling
of the leaves on the trees around him. Enjoying the smell of spring that
permeated the air. Enjoying just being alive to appreciate it all. And
then the quiet of the early afternoon was broken by the sound of
children fighting.
He pulled his head up and looked to the right to see a young woman
with two children, a boy and a girl, maybe three and four. It was
obvious that they were heading for the playground. He watched their
progress for a minute, amused by the little girl, who seemed
determined to get the sandbucket in her little brother's hand, despite her
mother's scolding.
The image brought back thoughts of Rick and his family and once
again Mulder was consumed with a feeling of uneasiness. He tried
turning his psychoanalyst brain to the problem, realizing even as he did
so that it was a dangerous venture. 'Know thyself' was all very well
and good, but not always the easiest task to accomplish. And he knew
that deep down, in the darkest regions of his psyche, he had things
hidden which shouldn't be uncovered. Should never be recognized.
But this was actually a relatively simple one. He saw once again a man
who could have been him. A man with a family, with a job where he
was liked and respected. And Mulder knew that these were things he
desired. Things he wanted for himself. But that were impossible. At
least for now. And for the first time in a long while, he realized that he
had augmented the thought with 'for now'. And suddenly, it dawned
on him that he was okay with it. That just because his life was
impossible now, didn't mean that it would always be. That things
change and people change. And there was still hope for him. Hope for
something at least approaching normality.
Mulder closed his eyes once more and let his head fall back, so he
could look up, through the leaf-covered branches, to see a glimmer
here and there of the blue sky above. It was a beautiful sight and he
wished that his partner were here with him, sitting next to him, so that
she could see it too.
Just as he sighed deeply, considering heading back to check on Scully,
something was slammed into his chest. His eyes flew open and his
hands grabbed at the rolled magazine as it started to fall to the ground.
Feet hit the ground flat and he jerked to a standing position just in time
to see the figure of a running man round a corner in the path and
disappear from view.
As he stood there, once more alone, heart pounding and breath coming
in sharp bursts, he realized just how exposed he was. And how stupid
he'd been to come here alone. Not even telling anyone where he was
going. Shit, he was an idiot. And now he was incredibly paranoid.
He searched from right to left, swung around and searched behind him.
He didn't see anyone. No one but the woman and her children at the
playground.
He moved slowly, gaze still sweeping the area, over to a tree. Sank
down in a crouch with his back to it, and moved to open the magazine.
It had been rolled with a rubber band around it, so he slipped the band
off first, then slowly unrolled it. Huh, Time magazine. Recent issue.
He flipped the pages quickly from back to front and paused on seeing
an envelope. He glanced around himself once again, stretched to look
behind the tree, then stared back at the envelope still stuck in the pages
of the magazine. Should he or shouldn't he?
He was feeling an incredible pressure now. A pressure to let Scully
know where he was. A pressure to get back to the Bureau. But the
person who had thrown this at him had the opportunity to take him out
if the guy had wanted. Instead, the guy was trying to communicate.
Mulder glanced around again, then made the decision.
He pulled the envelope out gingerly, careful to hold it only by the edges
so as to avoid destroying any possible fingerprint evidence. The flap
wasn't glued so with one finger, he gently lifted it and looked inside.
There was a slip of paper. Well, there was nothing he could do at this
point. He'd have to touch it to get it out. He gently pulled the slip of
paper out with the tips of thumb and forefinger and read the note.
Ten minutes.
Bathrooms.
End of Path.
Shit. He'd already spent at least five minutes just getting to the note.
Now what? He was filled with indecision. Time was, he'd just head
off without even considering it. But Scully had pretty much drilled it
into his head that she'd kill him if he did that too many more times.
She'd made him promise. And here he was, practically with a Shoot
Me sign, actually considering heading off to meet with some unknown
person about an unknown topic in an unknown location. Fuck, how
did he manage to get himself into these situations.
He looked around again, chewed on his lower lip for a few seconds
and then decided he really had no choice. He was up and jogging,
then, realizing that he had only about three and a half minutes to make
the rendezvous. He kept his eyes up and searching continuously.
Turned to look over his shoulder occasionally. Still clear. He saw the
little building ahead that he guessed housed the bathrooms and slowed
just a bit. Panned his gaze around the area again. Jesus, this would be
a perfect ambush site. He shook his head at the thought and picked up
the speed again. Glanced at his watch to see how much time he had.
Figured it was just now ten minutes. He had the magazine in his hand,
the envelope and note stuffed inside it once more. And he wished he
had his weapon instead. Or even his cell phone. What the hell had he
been thinking when he headed out with no protection, without telling
anyone what he was doing?
He'd made it to the little building and now wondered what to do. He
decided to check the outside first, so slowly started around to the right,
hugging the building as closely as possible. He looked around the
corner first, decided it was clear, and let his body follow. Did the same
on the next corner and the next. He was back to where he'd started,
just about. He was just passing the open door of the women's room
when a hand reached out and grabbed his arm. Yanked him hard and
sent him flying across the restroom to slam against the tile wall.
He lay on the floor, dazed for a moment, before realizing that he had to
move and move fast. He heard harsh breathing and knew that only
some of it belonged to him. That the other person in the room was also
breathing hard. He rolled quickly away from the wall and to his knees
in one fluid movement and then froze as he came face to face with a
gun, aimed at his head, cocked and ready to blow his brains out.
He stayed where he was, not moving a muscle, but gradually allowed
his eyes to slide up, to rest on the face of the man holding the gun. The
whisper that left his mouth did so of its own volition.
"Burgos."
Ephraim Burgos stood in front of him, clad in a rumpled suit that
looked as if it had been worn for an entire week. The man was an
obvious wreck. Was breathing so hard his nostrils flared, then
contracted, flared, then contracted, even while he worked to pull air in
through his mouth. The man was coated in sweat and his eyes were
wide -- crazed.
Mulder opened his mouth to speak when the other man gestured silence
with the gun, then said, each word dripping in anger and frustration,
"You little shit. Do you have any idea what you've done? You've
ruined my life. You and your fucking partner."
Mulder figured he was getting good at recognizing rhetorical questions
so didn't even a to answer this one. He decided it had been the right
decision, when Burgos continued after a few gasping breaths.
"They've decided I'm expendable. They've decided I'm a security
risk. All because of you and your stupid questions."
Mulder was starting to understand now. He couldn't really summon
up much pity for the man. Burgos had played the game. And he
certainly should have known the rules before starting. The man was
looking really desperate now and it occurred to Mulder that he had no
idea what this man wanted of him.
"Dr. Burgos, I'm sorry. I certainly never intended to put anyone in
any danger. Let me help you. I can protect you. The Bureau can
protect you. Just come with me now and I can arrange it."
Burgos started laughing then, a cruel viscous laugh that held no humor
in it at all.
"The Bureau? You think the Bureau can protect me? You think it can
protect you? You're naive, Mr. Mulder. There is no protection from
Jeffries."
Mulder froze then, realizing that Burgos had given him a crucial piece
of the puzzle. He had a name. Jeffries. He had to find out more.
"Dr. Burgos, tell me what I can do then. Tell me what I can do to
protect you from Jeffries. There has to be something."
He was still kneeling on the floor and it was uncomfortable. He looked
from Burgos' twisted face to the gun. The weapon was wavering
slightly and Mulder decided he could make a move. He leaned back
slowly on his heels, raised one pacifying hand, then started to push
himself upright. Burgos moved back against the other wall and
grasped the weapon in both his hands, still training it on Mulder. But
at least Mulder was standing now. Could stretch his legs out. And he
became aware suddenly of a throbbing along the right side of his body
where he'd slammed into the wall.
He dropped his right hand, then moved his left over to rub at his arm,
his shoulder. That was gonna hurt in the morning. Burgos was still
standing there, gun raised, breathing hard and looking like he might
flip out at any time.
"Dr. Burgos, please. Let me help you."
Mulder could see the man waver then, obviously wanting to give into
it, when gunfire erupted, sending tile fragments flying. Mulder dove to
the right, getting out of the line of the doorway. He saw the other man
dive at almost the same time and they ended up right next to each other.
Mulder turned to the man and reached his hand out.
"Give me your gun and start looking for an exit from here. There's got
to be something other than the door."
Burgos never hesitated. He handed the gun over, then paused and dug
in his pocket. He handed over a spare clip and then started crawling to
the side. Mulder got up to a crouch and looked for the best place to
position himself. He had just gotten to the sinks when more gunfire
came from the side. He turned to see an open window and threw
himself against that wall, right next to the window. Without even
looking, he fired a shot out the window and up into the air, so as not to
get any innocent passersby. He wanted to put the shootists out there
on alert that he had a weapon. Maybe that would buy him and Burgos
some time.
He shot out the window again, then risked a quick look. There was no
one to be seen. He fired again and then dove towards the doorway,
repeated his plan of firing up into the air. Then risked a quick glance
there. Nothing. Damn. And then he realized he hadn't heard anything
from Burgos. He looked around, bent and stared under stalls.
Nothing. The man must have found a way out and wasn't sharing.
Mulder decided he needed to get out and get out fast so fired a few
times out the door, ran for the far wall and fired out the window, then
headed to where Burgos had last been.
There was an open door that led to a supply closet which in turn led to
the men's room. Mulder ran through it and decided he had one shot at
getting out of there in one piece. He never even paused in running
through the men's room, just headed out the front door and sprinted at
his fastest speed in the direction from which no gunfire had come while
he was in the building. If he were right, he was now out of sight of
one of the shooters completely and had hopefully caught the other one
by surprise. He made it to a strand of trees just as the gunfire caught
up with him, but the shooter was too late.
He was past the trees and headed across the park, weaving in and out
of other tree clusters. The shooters would have a tough time of it now,
unless one of them was faster than he was. But he wasn't about to let
up now, even though the gunfire had stopped. He oriented himself
quickly and realized he'd have to circle the park somehow to get back
to the Bureau. He decided to continue straight for a bit, get into the
city, and then circle.
He'd caught his stride now, falling into the easy rhythm so comfortable
for the long-distance runner. It was a bit awkward with jeans and a
long-sleeved shirt. With a gun in one hand and a rolled up magazine in
the other. But he managed. He was practically out of the park, when
he heard screeching tires. He risked a look behind him and saw the
black car speeding at him.
Shit. He took a sharp turn to the right, cut through a strand of trees,
and aimed for the road. He had to get out of the park or he was a dead
man. He pushed a bit, took another sharp corner, then jumped over a
low spiked fence that surrounded the park. He was on a wide sidewalk
now, that ran along the street, next to the park. Traffic was heavy and
he was oddly reassured by it. It would hopefully prevent the black car
from getting to him. But then he heard the screech again and this time a
series of honking horns.
Jesus Christ, who were these people?!? The car had jumped the curb
and was on the sidewalk, bearing down on him. He was tiring now,
the heat affecting him hard, and he didn't think he could outrun it.
People were definitely noticing now. A few cars had slowed as he
raced past and they realized a car was chasing him down. So Mulder
decided to take his chances in traffic. He jumped off the curb and
leaped in front of a car, made it to the other side before it hit him and
did it again in the next lane. He was in the middle of the street now,
running full speed still, and he realized he had to cross in front of
traffic coming the other way.
Car horns were blaring from behind and to the side of him. And
somewhere, he heard a siren. But he couldn't wait around for it. He
saw an opening and ran across the first lane. Slowed quickly, then
dashed across the second. He was on the opposite sidewalk now and
he risked a glance back. The car had entered traffic somehow, causing
at least a few fender benders along the way, but was far from catching
up to him.
He took the next left, crossed the street again in front of angry drivers,
then took a right at the next block. He was stumbling slightly now, the
heat and activity catching up to him with a vengeance. He took another
right at the first opportunity and prayed the people in the black car
wouldn't be able to add two and two. There was only one place he'd
be going after all and the Bureau was still on the other side of the park
from where he now was. He had to get back to the street he'd just
been on and circle the park to get to the Bureau office.
He looked over his shoulder and decided he could afford to take it
down a notch. There was no sign of the black car. No angry motorists
honking horns. Maybe he was in the clear. He saw a woman ahead of
him, horror on her face, and then he was past her. And it dawned on
him that perhaps it was time to put the gun away. He slipped on the
safety and then tucked it into his front right jeans pocket. Not the most
comfortable place for it, but probably the most reasonable right now,
all things considered.
He was breathing hard now and the sweat was causing his shirt to stick
to his back uncomfortably. It ran down his face and into his eyes,
clouding his sight. He wiped at his face with his right hand, trying to
free it of the sweat that ran. Wiped his hand then on his jeans. He was
back to the main street again, the one that ran by the park and he took a
left, across the street now from the park. He looked around, relieved
to see what appeared to be normal traffic patterns.
He had dropped down to a jog now, to catch his breath, and had to
weave in and out of pedestrians. But he did so carefully, not wanting
to draw unwanted attention to himself. A few people gave him an odd
look, evidently curious about why anyone would be jogging in jeans
and a long-sleeved shirt in Richmond in May, but he ignored them. He
saw the end of the park approaching across the street and decided to go
up another block before turning right.
The light was in his favor so he jogged right across the street, and was
almost shocked to hear the familiar screeching tires. He looked behind
him and saw the black car turning through a red light, causing other
cars to slam on their brakes. He prayed for an accident. Nothing
serious. Just something that would slow the car down slightly. No
such luck.
He knew it was going to be a flat out race now. The car stuck in late
afternoon traffic versus the running on the sidewalk dodging a few
scattered pedestrians. He upped the ante again and started sprinting
once more, figuring he had only a few blocks to go. Piece of cake. He
dodged traffic as he raced across the street and took a right. He knew
the black car had to get past a whole slew of other cars before it could
follow him. He had a shot at it. Might just make it. But he'd picked a
bad street to turn on. It was practically deserted. No cars. No people.
Shit. He had to get off here as fast as possible or they'd have a clear
shot of him.
And just as the thought crossed his mind, he heard the car behind him
and then shots echoes out in the quiet street. He couldn't stop.
Couldn't take the time to even try to dodge any bullets. He just had to
get off this street fast. And he was so close. There was an intersection
just a short way in front of him. The Bureau was to the left, but it
would mean he'd have to cross in front of that car. He decided he was
safer in heavy traffic and took a right once more, bringing him back
towards the busy street that circled the park. And ahead he heard a
wonderful sound. The glorious sound of police sirens. Maybe they'd
scare the black car off.
It was right behind him again, but he flew around the corner, back onto
the sidewalk with all the pedestrians and almost bowled an old man
down. He gasped out a "Sorry" and looked behind him. There were
police cars down the street, evidently called there because of the
accidents the black car had caused several minutes before. He turned
back to watch where he was going and tried to plot out how he'd get
back to the Bureau. Of course, if he were smart, he'd have gone to one
of the cops and gotten a ride. But he didn't have his identification. It
was in the jacket with his weapon, laying across a chair in the
conference room. He'd probably be arrested for making trouble.
Breathing was becoming difficult once more and his legs were starting
to turn to rubber. Running was one thing, but this sprinting, turning,
leaping, and more sprinting was something else all together. He wiped
at the sweat again, trying to clear his vision and decided he had to be
just a block or so away from the Bureau. He kept his eyes on the
upcoming turn, passed it on by until he got to the other side of the
road, and then took the turn. He'd searched down the street and hadn't
seen the car. Maybe it was trying to keep a low profile with the cops.
He made it down the block and caught sight of the side of the Bureau
building. God, it was beautiful. Only a little more than a block away.
And then it happened again. God damn it! There was hat cursed
sound. The sound of screeching tires. He knew he was going to have
nightmares about that for the rest of his life. But he was close now.
He fought the pending exhaustion, forced it away, forced it to wait,
and sprinted again, for all he was worth. The turn was so close now.
So damned close. But shots rung out again, this time hitting too close
for comfort as pieces of brick flew off the wall next to him. But he
kept running, determined that he'd make it back. Make it back to his
partner. She was waiting for him, after all.
He kept the thought of Scully in his mind as he made the turn, using
his right arm to grab the building and help to pivot. But the black car
was just behind him now and making the turn as well. And Mulder
knew that he had to cross in front of the car now, or he'd be cut off
from the Bureau. So he ran out in the street, even while the black car
was starting to right itself from it's skidding turn. And he made it
across in front of the car, but saw out of the corner of his eye, the
lowered window and the weapon pointing out of it. And he was
gasping for air, each intake, practically a moan, each release,
explosive.
Gods, was it really going to end this way? Shot down right in front of
the frigging Bureau office? And as he'd just about given up hope of
making it, he realized there were shouting figures around him. And
weapons fire. But it wasn't directed at him, it was directed at the black
car. And he saw a flash of red hair amidst the bodies, and then Scully
was beside him, one hand gripping his arm tightly. The other still
aiming her weapon at the black car that now screeched its wheels again.
This time in a frantic attempt to go backwards, to get away from all the
agents who now were firing on it.
Mulder allowed his legs to give out then, but he evidently wasn't going
to be allowed to rest there. Two burly agents had his arms and were
pulling him towards the steps. But he couldn't walk. Couldn't keep
them straight underneath him. It didn't seem to phase them. They each
grabbed an arm, draped it over their shoulders, and pulled him along.
It was damned embarrassing.
He must have faded out for a bit then because the next thing he knew
they were inside, in the blessed air conditioning, and Scully was telling
him to drink whatever it was she held to his mouth. But he could still
hardly breathe, was still gasping, so he raised his hand to push at it.
To push it away. Managed to say in a strangled whisper, "Wait.
Please." And she seemed to understand him.
He tried to get his bearings. Figure out where he was. Where they
were. He was on the floor, propped against a wall. Scully was
hovering next to him and Rick was behind her, looking over her
shoulder. About four or five agents were milling around several feet
away, obviously waiting for instructions. Two of them were the ones
who'd dragged him up the stairs.
He leaned his head back and concentrated on calming his breathing.
Looked again at the surroundings and decided they were just inside the
Bureau entrance, around the corner from the security station. He was
pretty sure he could handle something to drink now so rotated his head
so he was looking directly at Scully. She understood and held it up for
him again. He sipped greedily, thinking that the tepid water had to
have been the most wonderful thing he'd ever had. He nodded in
thanks, still not trusting himself to speak with any coherency.
Scully asked him, "Do you think you can make it upstairs?"
He considered it. Thought carefully, and decided probably, with a little
help. He nodded.
Scully moved back a bit and looked up at Rick, who in turn stood and
approached the milling agents. Mulder could see the other agent
gesturing to the group. Three of the agents headed off and the two
who'd helped Mulder before were following Rick now, heading back
towards Mulder and Scully. It dawned on him that they were here to
help him up and he was once again consumed with embarrassment.
Before they reached him, he leaned forward, moved his legs to stand.
He heard Scully telling him to stay still, but was determined to do this
on his own. He pushed himself up, into a crouch, and then forced his
legs to straighten. Damned if he'd be carried around like a little kid.
But then his legs started to fold under him and he was suddenly
grateful that the two agents were at his side, offering their support.
There were stars dotting his vision now and he tottered for a moment
until the dizziness passed. He was ready. He nodded to his human
crutches and they were off.
*******************************************
Scully watched her partner for a few more seconds, noted his easier
breathing, the fact that he seemed more aware of his surroundings, saw
that the redness that had claimed his face had faded to his more natural
tanned complexion. And decided it was time to discuss what had
happened. She glanced down at her watch and discovered that a good
twenty-five minutes had passed since their mad dash into the street.
Her partner had been sitting in the conference room now for ten
minutes at least. She then looked over to where Rick waited and saw
that he was sitting on the edge of his seat, gaze shifting worriedly
between her and her partner.
She shifted the chair, turned it so it faced Mulder head on, and leaned
forward, arms on knees.
"Mulder, how are you feeling? Do you think you're up to talking a
bit?"
The last thing she wanted to do was antagonize him or make him feel
that she was attacking him. Putting him on the spot. She waited for
the nod, glanced over to see Rick moving closer, then faced Mulder
once more.
"Can you tell us what happened? From the beginning?"
He nodded again and took a sip from the bottled water before starting.
"I decided to go for a walk. I just wanted to clear my head. After I ran
into Rick and his family, I just sort of headed down the hall and ended
up at the entrance. So I headed outside."
Scully clamped down on the surge of frustration that threatened to
make her say something she'd later regret. This wasn't the time. Her
partner shook his head, then dragged it up to look at her. His face was
sort of scrunched as if he were in pain. She understood why when he
continued.
"Scully, I know it was incredibly stupid, but I swear to God I just
wasn't thinking."
Mulder was leaned forward, elbows propped on knees, and he had his
hands out, upraised, as if in supplication. Scully reached out and
grabbed them in hers, squeezing lightly, saying, "I know, Mulder. I
know you didn't mean it."
He dropped his shoulders at her words, obviously relieved. Dropped
his head with them. He sighed heavily and then started again.
"I just started walking and I saw a park. I headed there and was just
sitting on a bench. Just sitting there. And some guy ran by and threw
a rolled up magazine at me. Hit me in the chest with it."
Mulder jerked up as he said this last, pulled his hands out of her grip to
rest on the chair arms, then sent his gaze around the room.
"The magazine. Where is it?"
Scully saw Rick starting to move and looked his way. The older agent
had stood and was waving his hand towards the agent by the door.
Then Rick said, "We have it, Mulder. I wasn't sure what it was but I
figured if you hung onto it while being chased by that car that it was
probably important. Dave's going to get it now."
Mulder sighed in relief and sank back down again, hands resting on his
knees. Scully had been eyeing him carefully and saw that he'd started
to shiver, most likely a result of the air conditioning hitting his sweat
soaked skin. She was half ready to call a halt to his description of
events, but he looked at her then as he started once again.
"I realized then, Scully, what I'd done. That I was there without
protection. No gun, no badge, and I hadn't even told you where I was
going."
He dropped his head again and muttered, "Jesus, what an idiot."
Scully rested her hands over his and said, "No, Mulder. You just
weren't thinking. It happens."
He raised his head to look at her, and flipped his fingers a bit so they
intertwined with hers. Smiled a bit.
"Thanks, Scully."
He sighed heavily, as if even breathing was exhausting work, then
said, "So when it dawned on me that I was exposed, I tried to move to
a more secure position, then opened the magazine. There was a note in
it. With a meeting time and place. And I only had a few minutes to
decide whether to go or not. And I did. Scully, I didn't know what to
do. I had to make a decision. And I know I promised you I wouldn't
head out without letting you know where I was going, but, Jesus, I
just thought I was going for a God damned walk in the park."
Scully smiled a bit and nodded to him, encouraging him to go on.
Letting him know she understood. She was vaguely aware of Rick and
another agent over by the door. But Mulder had been speaking as if
only to her for the past several minutes. She squeezed his fingers again
in encouragement.
"So, anyway, I decided to go. I got there, to the building he'd said and
started scouting it. But I got sloppy and he grabbed me and pulled me
inside. He had a weapon trained on me. Here, I still have it."
Mulder stood then, slowly, gingerly, and reached into his pocket.
Pulled the weapon out just as gingerly. Set it on the table before
sinking back into the chair. Scully noticed that the shivering was more
pronounced now. But decided to hold off just a bit longer.
"I doubt you'll be able to get any prints but mine. Anyway, it was
Burgos, Scully. He had the gun trained on me but I'm not even sure
why. He was .... he was ready to crack. He was stressed out big
time. Started yelling that we'd screwed up his life. That because of
us, 'they' were after him. And then he said a name. He said, there's
no protection from Jeffries. That was the name he said, Jeffries. And
I just about had him to the point where he was going to come with me
when someone started firing on us. From the door and from an open
window on the side of the building."
Mulder shifted in the seat, pulled his hands away, then wrapped his
arms around him. Scully glanced over to Rick and could tell the other
agent was getting anxious. But she knew her partner. She'd give him
the chance to finish, as long as it wouldn't interfere with his health.
"I sent Burgos to look for another way out and took his weapon. Fired
some shots into the air from both the window and door. When I
realized I hadn't seen Burgos for a while, I went to check it out and
found an open door into the other bathroom. I decided to go for it.
Didn't even look for Burgos. I don't know whether he got out before
me or not. I just took off, out the door and then across the park."
Mulder shifted in his seat again, took another sip of water, then
wrapped his arms around his body again.
"I just took off, in the direction opposite where I figured the shooters
were. And when I'd just about made it out, a black car came up behind
me. I jumped the fence of the park and the car got up on the sidewalk,
coming after me. I think it must have caused a few accident because
after I'd dodged in and out a bit, made a circuit a few blocks over, then
come back, there were police cars there. I think it must have slowed
the car down because I was able to get pretty close. It chased me down
a couple back roads and I had to keep coming back to the main street. I
knew I was only a couple blocks away from the Bureau finally so just
took off. Then it was behind me again and all I could do was run for
it."
He was shivering so hard now his teeth were practically chattering.
His face suddenly adopted a credulous expression. Then he shook his
head, as if in wonder.
"Then all of a sudden you were there, Scully. And I couldn't believe
it. Where did you come from? How did you know?"
Scully leaned forward, touched his arm, and said, "Mulder, when we
realized you weren't in the building, someone was astute enough to put
together your disappearance and reports off the police band of a man
running through the park and nearby streets waving a gun around and
being chased by a black car. Rick had just assembled a team and we
were ready to head out when we saw you round the corner. It was
basically just luck. Good luck. Incredible luck, in fact."
Mulder shook his head once more, obviously amazed that such luck
should have befallen him. Scully decided enough was enough.
"Mulder, we can catch up on some other details in a bit. Right now, I
want you to go downstairs to the gym and take a hot shower and
change clothes."
She turned to Rick before her partner could argue, and asked, "Can we
get a change of clothes for him here?"
Mulder's objections were ignored as Rick answered, "I have some
clean gym clothes in my office. I'll get them."
And then Rick was out of the room, ignoring Mulder's objections all
the way. Scully stared at her partner again, and adopted her
professional doctor look. It worked every time.
"Mulder, it's either that or a trip to the hospital. You ran full speed for
about two miles or so in blue jeans and a long sleeved shirt in ninety
plus degree weather with a black car trying to run you down. You
were on the verge of heat stroke when we brought you in. Now your
body is struggling to equilibrate its temperature. The air conditioning
hit the sweat on your skin and has cooled your body too much. You
need to warm it up again."
He was grinning at her now and she knew he'd do it, if only to make
her happy. And then Rick was back again, clothes in hand.
"Come on, Mulder, I'll show you where things are."
Mulder grimaced good-naturedly, then pushed himself out of the chair.
He needed both hands to help him up and decided that maybe a hot
shower was a good idea after all. His calves were on the verge of
cramping as it was. Hot water would be a blessing right about now.
He started towards the door, taking it easy, when he felt a light touch
on his right arm. Looked down to see Scully staring up at him in
concern.
"Take your time. We'll get things started here -- get some people to the
park. We'll talk more when you get back."
He leaned down a bit, said softly, "Thanks, Scully. You saved my
butt again. I owe you major butt saving now."
She grinned widely, then said, "And I'll take you up on it, Mulder.
Never fear. Now get going."
*******************************************
Mulder stood in the shower, hands propped against the wall, hot water
beating down on the back of his neck. God, it was heaven. Absolute
heaven. There couldn't be much in life that was better than a hot
shower after a hellish day. Well, unless you threw another body into
the mix. The right kind of body. Female. Small and curvy. That
would really be heaven. But this was damned close.
He raised his head so the water hit him in the face, beat down on him
from above. Then moved his head to the right so his left shoulder was
under the stream. Then the right shoulder. Gods above, he'd needed
this. And then he marveled, as he had so many times, that his partner
somehow always knew what he needed. Scully always knew. God
bless Scully. Scully. He sighed deeply and he reached for the water
faucet then, turning the hot water tap all the way off. And the cold
water beat down on his skin, then. And at that time, in that place, it
was absolutely just what he needed.
*******************************************
Saturday, 9:58 p.m.
Richmond, Marriot Hotel
The knock on the door was so light that Scully wasn't sure initially if
she'd actually heard it. A glance at Rick confirmed that he'd heard it
too so she moved quickly to answer before the knocking could disturb
her partner. She swung the door open, expecting to see the guard in
the hall, and was surprised instead to see her boss standing there. Last
she'd heard, he wasn't going to make it back until tomorrow.
She waved him in, and whispered, "Hello, sir. It's good to see you."
And she realized that it really was. That she was actually happy to see
her boss again. Suddenly she felt more secure.
Skinner walked in, nodding to her. Nodded to Rick and looked over to
the bed, where Mulder was fast asleep, oblivious of all the activity in
his room. He jerked his head towards his agent and asked Scully,
"How's he doing?"
She realized then that Rick must have been in contact with him. Must
have filled him in. That at least explained why he was here tonight.
"He's fine, sir. Just tired."
Skinner nodded, stared at his sleeping agent again, as if not trusting
Scully, then leaned forward a bit. Spoke softly.
"How about if we go in the next room. I'd like an update."
She nodded to him and glanced over at Rick, making sure he knew
where they were heading, then pulled the connecting door open a bit
wider. Before she left, she looked over at her partner once more, then
realized that once they left, there'd be no noise in the room. She
walked around his bed and picked up the remote, then turned on the
television, setting the sound down low. Just in case he woke up. It
would be familiar, at least.
Skinner was waiting for her in the doorway and she realized she wasn't
even embarrassed that he'd seen her. She was pretty sure he
understood. And certainly wouldn't begrudge Mulder the little bit of
security he could manage to find at night.
She nodded as she walked past him into her own room. Rick was
settled in one of the chairs, so she sat on the bed, allowing Skinner to
take the other free chair. Skinner immediately took control of their
impromptu meeting. He turned to Scully and said, "Rick called me
earlier. Have you had any luck tracking down Burgos or the people
who were shooting at Mulder?"
Scully nodded towards Rick, encouraging him to fill Skinner in. The
Richmond agent said, "We had a team out scouring the park and
various spots between there and the Bureau where we know shots were
fired. We've rounded up plenty of witnesses who saw the car trying to
run down Mulder. But no one's really been able to provide any
substantive information. They basically saw a man running with a car
chasing him. That much we already knew. And we haven't found a
trace of Burgos anywhere. I guess the good thing, then, is that he's
probably still alive. Somewhere."
Rick shook his head, thinking again of the drama that seemed to follow
Mulder and Scully. He'd had a relatively quiet life before they showed
up and he missed it. Then he felt embarrassed at the thought, realizing
it was incredibly ungenerous and unkind. It wasn't like they wanted it,
after all. He glanced at Scully, then turned back to Skinner, clearing
his throat before continuing.
"We retrieved some casings here and there. No luck on fingerprints.
Took some prints off the note from Burgos. I'm not sure it'll really
help much though since we already know who he is. That's pretty
much it, Walt. We have make and model of the car. License plates
were obscured. No help there. Windows were tinted so no one saw
anyone inside. Our team was about thirty seconds too late in going
after it. It disappeared. And the RPD were evidently about a minute or
so behind Mulder all the way. I spoke with the officer who was
coordinating the seven units involved. He said it was crazy. They'd
receive reports of shots fired, show up, and someone would tell them
they just missed it. That either Mulder or the black car had just turned a
corner. It was evidently a merry chase Mulder led. Oh, and we're
checking into the name Mulder mentioned. Jeffries. But we're not
exactly holding our breaths. Not a lot of information to go on there.
Basically, dead ends all the way around."
Skinner sighed and sank back in the chair, crossing his legs out in front
of him. Scully could tell he was thinking hard about something. He
sat up then and turned to her.
"Scully, neither you nor Mulder are to go anywhere without protection.
Is that clear?"
She nodded to him, then added, "Yes, sir. Agent Mulder realized he'd
been .... shortsighted, but it was too late for him to do anything about
it. He didn't intend to put himself in such an awkward position."
Skinner looked as if he were irritated, then said, "Scully, I know that.
I understand. I'm just saying that we all need to be more aware of it
now. I'm not making any judgments. Okay?"
Scully relaxed a bit, realizing once again that this man wasn't the
enemy. Was, in fact, a friend.
"Yes, sir. Thank you."
He nodded, took a deep breath, then added, "Seriously, now. How's
Mulder?"
Scully stared at him for a long few seconds, glanced over to Rick, then
decided to be completely honest with her boss.
"He's bruised from being thrown against a wall by Burgos. Was in
danger of heat stroke from his several mile dash through the city. He
passed out for several minutes when we got to him. He's physically
taxed, but basically okay. Nothing a good night's sleep and lots of
muscle relaxants won't cure. And with what I gave him, he should
sleep through the night. For a change."
The last was muttered, almost under her breath, and she was irritated
with herself as soon as she said it. But neither Rick nor Skinner
seemed as if they'd make anything of it. In fact, Skinner slid forward
in his chair, preparing to stand, and asked her, "Does he need someone
to stay with him?"
Scully was touched by the offer. She smiled and shook her head.
"It's okay, sir. I'll leave the door cracked a bit. He'll be fine."
Skinner nodded and stood, looked down at his watch, then over to
Rick.
"I know tomorrow's Sunday and you haven't seen much of your
family lately, but will you be able to put in a little time?"
Rick smiled wryly and also stood.
"You think I'm going to miss this? It's just now getting exciting,
Walt."
Both men headed to the door, but Skinner stopped next to Scully for a
moment and said, "There's a guard in the hall and I'm right across the
way. Call or get me if you need anything. Understand?"
Scully had felt so alone for so long, with only Mulder to talk to about
difficulties pertaining to work. And Skinner's compassion caught her
off guard. Her eyes filled suddenly with tears as she realized that he
was there for her and her partner. That he truly cared about them and
wanted to help. She cleared her throat and managed, "Thank you, sir.
I do. And I will."
He smiled kindly and turned. Glanced at the door leading to Mulder's
room, then headed out. Scully sat for a moment on the bed,
considering how drastically circumstances had changed over the last
four years. She and Mulder had been alone for so very long. Hadn't
been able to trust anyone else. But Skinner had proven himself, over
and again. And he was there, now, in Richmond, because his agents
were in danger. Because she and Mulder were threatened.
Scully stood from the bed wearily and made her way to Mulder's
room. Walked over to his bed and sank down in a crouch beside it.
Stared at her partner for several heartbeats before reaching out to stroke
his forehead lightly. To push the stray piece of hair out of his face.
Then she whispered, "Do you have any idea how lucky you are,
Mulder?"
It seemed like the right question, even though she wasn't completely
sure what she meant. She knew that part of her had been sending
heartfelt thanks to whomever might be responsible for allowing her
partner to avoid being killed today. But another part realized that
having Skinner on her partner's side was something special. And then
of course, even if Mulder didn't realize it, she was there for him, too.
Did he know it? Did he realize that she was there for him? Did he
realize even, that he was her best friend? Her best friend in all the
world?
She stared down at him for another few moments, then pulled the sheet
up a bit farther. She pushed herself upright then and moved around the
room to turn off lights, leaving the bathroom light on with the door
slightly ajar. The television she left on also, but turned the sound
down even further. Then headed for her own room. She was
exhausted, and knew morning would come much too soon.
*******************************************
Skinner couldn't sleep. He looked at the clock. 12:41 a.m. He was
exhausted. His body demanded sleep. But he couldn't turn his mind
off. Couldn't allow himself to relax, even though he wanted to. He
threw the book down on the bed and launched himself up. Slipped on
jeans and a shirt. His running shoes. He knew what was bothering
him. He just needed to check quickly.
He walked over to the desk and picked up the two electronic pass keys
there. He'd hung onto them, figuring they might come in useful again.
He slipped his own in his back pocket and left his room. The agent
there was alert, was in fact staring at him suspiciously at first. He
smiled and nodded, said, "Anything from either of them?" The guard
shook his head and Skinner added, "I'm just going to check to see if
they're all right. Be right back."
The guard nodded, face blank as Skinner pulled out one of the keys at
random and tried Mulder's door. He lucked out. It was the right one.
He opened it slowly, aware that there was a good possibility that the
man was actually awake. But there was no movement inside, no sound
except the low drone of the television. He slipped in and closed the
door behind him, grateful that Scully had left the bathroom light on.
The little shaft of light that made its way through the five inch crack
was enough to allow him to walk in confidence across the room to sink
into 'his' chair.
Mulder was in the middle of the bed on his back, legs and arms tossed
as if in carefree abandon. Skinner smiled at the sight, having a hard
time imaging Mulder do anything with carefree abandon. This must be
how little kids sleep. At least, Skinner imagined it was, not that he
would know first-hand. It had been a major sticking point between
him and Sharon. He'd wanted children and she hadn't. He knew her
views about it when they married, but always imagined she'd change
her mind eventually. That she'd .... give in. But she hadn't. And
he'd been consumed with disappointment when it finally dawned on
him that she'd never change her mind. There would be no more
discussion. Closed subject. And he'd felt betrayed, even though she'd
been honest with him from the beginning.
Skinner shook his head at the memory. Then chastised himself.
Jesus, he'd always wanted more than people could give. And Mulder?
Well, Mulder didn't know enough to take what was offered. Couldn't
seem to allow himself to get close to anyone. Except Scully, of course.
And maybe the man would give Skinner a chance. Lord knew, his
agent needed all the friends he could get.
These two agents of his had somehow worked their way into his heart.
It had been a long time since he'd cared about anyone like this. Had
allowed himself to. But he felt responsible for these two young
people. Cared what happened to them in a way that had never
happened before.
Skinner glanced over at Mulder again, happy to see his agent resting so
peacefully. He'd hoped this case would be a chance for both his agents
to regroup. For Mulder to find something that excited him, or at the
very least, wouldn't put him in any danger. Jesus, what a joke.
He leaned forward in the chair, propped his elbows on his knees, and
dropped his head into his hands. He'd tried to keep his agents safe and
instead they'd been driven off a bridge, fired on, and now chased by
black cars. It was like an action movie, for Christ's sake. He breathed
deeply and reminded himself of one important point. They were both
safe. They'd survived it all. And he was here to make sure they
survived the rest of the case, as well.
He sat back a bit , dropped his hands from his face, then linked his
fingers, allowing his hands to hang between his open legs. His
thoughts turned once more to his two agents. He'd seen them interact
on this case. Had seen the looks that passed between them. Had seen
the occasional hand reach out to brush the other's arm or leg. And he
wasn't stupid. Or blind. But he was pretty sure they were. Blind, that
is. It was clear as day to him. Clear as could be that they loved each
other. But it was also clear that they didn't know it themselves. Or at
least weren't about to actually recognize it. Put a name to it. Act on it.
Skinner sat up straight and decided that if they could ignore it, so could
he. But he wasn't sure they should be ignoring it. It wasn't like the
ostrich approach would work here. It wouldn't go away. And maybe
they deserved to recognize it. And enjoy it. They deserved happiness.
Deserved some normality. A little bit of blessed normality.
Rick had told him about introducing Mulder to his wife and kids. And
then five minutes later, Mulder was out on the street wandering the city
with no protection. It didn't exactly take a genius to understand what
he was thinking about as he wandered about the park. Wandered
without consideration for his own safety. Thinking about wives and
kids, and agents who seemed able to have both career and family.
Wondering why they could manage it when he couldn't. Skinner
understood all too well.
He shook his head once more, in sorrow this time, knowing that his
agent was struggling with himself more than anything else. And
Skinner wished he could help the younger man. But what Mulder
needed was time. Time to understand that he had plenty in his life that
made it worthwhile. Worth the seemingly constant struggle. And the
most important thing was a 5'2" red head who would move heaven and
earth to keep him safe.
Skinner smiled then, and pushed himself up from the chair. They'd
both figure it out eventually. And be the better for it. As he started for
the door, a sound from behind caused him to pause and turn. Mulder
had said something, he was sure of it. He stopped and waited, then
heard it again. He headed back into the room and knelt down by the
bed, eyes intent on Mulder's face. The man was obviously consumed
by a nightmare, expression troubled, forehead coated in sweat. And as
Skinner watched, Mulder jerked his head to the left, as if trying to
dodge a punch, or perhaps a bullet, and cried out a soft 'No'.
Skinner put his right hand to Mulder's shoulder and shook gently. The
muscles under his hand were tight, straining against whatever pursued
Mulder in his dream. He shook the shoulder again and said, "Mulder,
it's just a dream. Go back to sleep." Mulder was breathing fast now
and Skinner figured it was only a matter of moments before the
younger man would wake, abruptly and violently.
He put his left hand to Mulder's head, remembering how it had calmed
his agent after the car accident and shooting. Said softly, "Mulder, it's
okay. You're safe. Scully's safe. It's just a dream. Nothing can hurt
you. Go back to sleep." The eyes flew open for a couple seconds and
seemed to focus on him before closing once more. The features relaxed
finally and the breathing slowed once more.
He stood and moved to the connecting door, took a couple steps into
Scully's room to see that she was sleeping peacefully. Then turned
back and headed towards Mulder's hotel door. Took a last glance
before reaching for the knob and whispered, "Sleep well, Mulder."
*******************************************
Sunday, 8:03 a.m.
Richmond, Marriot Hotel Dining Room
Mulder stared at the array of plates in front of him, feeling oddly guilty.
But he'd never really gotten dinner the previous night, after all and had
certainly worked off quite a lot of calories yesterday. He deserved it,
didn't he? He glanced over at his partner and took in her dainty fruit
and bagel plate. Hesitated before reaching for his fork. The scrambled
eggs, bacon, and pancakes called out to him. The fruit plate he could
live without, but would eat to make his partner happy. He glanced
over at her to see that she was smiling at him. No condemnation. No
judgment. Just smiling. He grinned back and picked up his fork, no
longer worried about whether it was too excessive.
Food, glorious food. He felt like Oliver. Maybe he'd even ask for
more. He worked at it logically, moving from one item to the next.
Completing eggs before going to bacon. Finishing bacon before
pancakes. No need to confuse the stomach prematurely. Besides, no
point in mixing your taste sensations.
He glanced across the table then at his boss. Skinner looked tired.
Seemed to be moving slowly this morning. And Mulder was suddenly
struck by an image of the man telling him it was just a dream, to go
back to sleep. What the hell? He searched his memory, tried to figure
out when and where or whether this was something he'd imagined. He
heard his boss' voice saying, "Agent Mulder, is something wrong?"
And he realized that for a half minute or so he'd had his fork part way
to his mouth and had been staring off into neverland.
He cleared his throat hastily, said "No, sir," and stuffed the pancakes
into his mouth. Scully was staring at him in curiosity, obviously
wondering what the heck was up with him. He just smiled, shook his
head slightly. Relished once more the wonderful breakfast in front of
him. It just might be a good day. He was due for one, after all.
Overdue.
*******************************************
Sunday, 9:21 a.m.
Richmond Bureau, Command Center
Mulder stood once more, unable to sit for more than ten minutes at a
time. He stretched his legs out, consciously flexing his calves. He
was dressed in running shorts and a T-shirt, his favorite socks and his
running shoes. He was aware of how silly it was. It wasn't like he
was going to get involved in another cross-city sprint, after all, but his
hands had taken over this morning when getting dressed and this was
the end result.
He had a stack of papers in his hand and was glancing through them,
even as he paced from one side of the room to the other. He was alone
for now, except for the agent outside the door. Jeez, and people
thought he was paranoid.
He glanced at the closed door and thought again about the agent on the
other side of it. Considered the significance of that posting. The man
wasn't really a guard --he knew that. But he couldn't help but feel
uneasy. Stifled. And then he shook his head and tried to dismiss the
entire thread of thought. It was too ... depressing. He'd been feeling
pretty good lately. Had managed to go hours at a time without even
thinking deep and dark thoughts and he wanted to keep it that way.
But the despair nibbled away at him, even as he fought to avoid it. He
knew he hadn't really faced the darkness yet. The darkness that had
been chasing after him for months, luring him into its gaping maw. He
hadn't really dealt with anything. He'd just allowed himself to be
consumed by this case. Had allowed himself to lie -- to those around
him, but most importantly, to himself.
But the Truth was the Truth. It couldn't be concealed and it could
never be hidden for long. Eventually, it would be uncovered. And
right now, the Truth that haunted him was that he still didn't know
what to believe in. But Skinner's words came to him then and he knew
the man had been right. He did have at least two things he could
believe in. Three really. His partner, his boss, and himself. And there
was a Truth in that knowledge that reassured him. That allowed him to
move on and do what needed to be done, at least for now.
He knew that Scully was off somewhere getting the latest lab reports
and Skinner and Rick were working with RPD on yesterday's venture.
He'd be working alone for awhile yet. He sank down in his chair and
picked up a pen, turning once more to the stack of reports.
He slowly began once more to mark the correct codes on the upper
right hand corner. He had another stack to go before he could really
start reading anything in depth. He had to fight the urge to start reading
immediately. But it would be like turning to the last page in a mystery
book. You might chance upon the answer, but without the appropriate
context of everything that had come before, it wouldn't make any
sense. So he continued the procedure he'd initiated yesterday, marking
the code, recording the sheet on his various log sheets, then going on
to the next one.
And about ten minutes later, he was up and pacing again, kicking his
legs out in front of him in an attempt to stave off unwanted cramping.
During one particularly violent leg shaking episode, the door opened
and Scully entered, then froze when she saw him. Mulder also froze,
right leg still raised some ten inches off the floor, and realized how
ridiculous he must look. Scully stared at him for a moment, then
smiled and asked, "The Bunnyhop? The Jitterbug? Can I dance, too?"
He grinned and dropped his leg, then proceeded to shake the other out,
almost in challenge.
"Just keeping loose, Scully. Never know when I might have to leap
tall buildings in a single bound."
"Or rescue fair maidens from an evil magician?"
"You got it, Scully. That's me. Always on call. Ready to do the dirty
deed so that others might live."
The out of character melodrama was just too much for Scully and she
laughed out loud.
"Mulder, you're warped. Absolutely, positively."
He adopted a wounded, puppy dog look, intentionally batted lashes at
her in an exaggerated way, raised one hand to his chest. "Moi?
Scully? You think I'm warped?"
He sniffled a couple times and Scully gave up then. It was the stroke
of genius. The thing she just wouldn't be able to combat . His partner
shook her head and dropped files on the table. Mulder watched her
turn serious and he did the same.
"So, what's new, Scully?"
She gestured down to the stack and said, "These are the latest reports
on the unknown substance we found in Handley."
She was grimacing now, as if in distaste.
"Yeah? So?"
"Well, let's just say it's still unknown and will probably stay that
way."
Scully slid into one of the chairs and then pulled out one of the files.
Sat staring at the closed cover for a minute before continuing.
"It's weird, Mulder. No record of anything like it in any
pharmaceutical or medical database. And believe me, the lab was
thorough." He saw the grin then and could imagine the blistered ears
of some poor technician. "So I think we've got a dead end with the
Handley case."
He nodded his understanding, then asked, "How's the reading
coming? Did you manage to plow through most of those papers?"
She grimaced and raised a hand to her head, as if in pain. "Please, no
more right now. If I have to read one more technical paper on the
development of advanced diagnostic systems, obscure control systems,
neural networks, fuzzy logic ... I need a break. I'll go back to it this
afternoon, but I don't know that it will help all that much."
She sat back and turned in the seat to look at him. "So what have you
been up to? Anything I can help with, seeing as I have some extra time
on my hands?"
He nodded, even as he surveyed what still needed to be done. This
would work out well.
"Absolutely, Scully. I'm swimming in paper here. I need help to
organize it. Here's what I've been doing."
And thirty minutes later they'd gone through the stacks, had logged in
every piece of information and were ready to start making sense of it.
Mulder was up and pacing again, a bit more sedately this time. He
stopped in front of the portion of wall where his cards were pinned,
excited at the prospect of filling in the blanks finally.
"Okay, Scully, here's what we'll do. We're not going to ignore
childhood, but I really think that's the low priority here. Let's start
with his college education years. We'll start with card 6, which
corresponds to his B.S. at Iowa State. Get all the pages that have a six
in the corner -- that's that stack there."
Mulder pointed to one of the stacks that he'd created the day before,
then continued. "We'll make a first pass at attempting to organize all
these by date so we have the right progression of events."
He picked up the log sheet for card number six and said, "We got up to
the letter 's' here, so .... what's that. How many is that? Nineteen?
So we have nineteen pieces of information, pieces of data, whatever,
that corresponds to that period. Since most of our reports are in now,
it's pretty safe to number for correct order now. So, we'll get these
ordered by date, then add another number to the end that corresponds
to its order. Got it?"
Scully stared at him for a second before answering in a musing kind of
voice. "I never knew you were this anal retentive, Mulder."
He opened his mouth, ready to defend himself, when he realized she
was kidding. And besides, he was being anal retentive. But years of
ingrained organization in the Behavioral Science Unit was tough to
shed, even after all this time. He picked up the stack and sat next to
her, dropping the pages between them.
"Start organizing, Scully."
And the smile that came to his face was genuine when she said, "Yes,
sir, Agent Mulder, sir."
*******************************************
Sunday, 11:52 a.m.
Richmond Bureau, Rick Donovan's Office
Skinner looked down at his watch for at least the twentieth time in the
past hour. He had to get out of here or he was going to kill someone.
The liaison the RPD had sent to work with them was a bore. In every
sense of the word. And the idiot made it sound almost as if Mulder
were somehow to blame for the havoc wreaked downtown yesterday.
Skinner glanced at his watch again, realized that less than a minute had
passed since the last time he'd checked and stood abruptly. Enough
was enough. He looked over to Rick, almost in apology, and said, "I
better go check up on Mulder and Scully. See how they're doing."
Rick was good-natured about it. Just said good-bye and that he'd
check into the command center later.
He nodded to the agent outside the conference room and opened the
door. Mulder stood in front of the far portion of wall, arms crossed
over his chest, leaning back on his heels. Scully stood beside him, to
his left, in almost the same position. They weren't talking. Weren't
moving. And he was very curious what they were staring at. He
headed around the table and started towards them. Scully noticed him
first, turned her head towards him and said, "Hello, sir."
He nodded to her and then to Mulder when he turned as well. Skinner
gestured at the wall and asked, "What's this?"
Both his agents stepped back so he could see more clearly, and then
Mulder started explaining.
"We're starting to make the connections now. We've gotten through
the college years and it's pretty impressive. Look here at the middle
column and the far right column."
9(NASA)
6(Iowa St.)
10(GD)
11(DoD)
7(Stanford)
12(???)
13(DARPA)
8(Ga Tech)
"We've discovered that there are multiple links from the very
beginning. At Iowa State, he started out in math and then got involved
in an undergraduate research project by a professor in Engineering who
was funded out of the very Program at DARPA where Burgos is now.
Or was. Whatever. Also, the professor, an Andrew Cartaugh, was at
GD -- General Dynamics -- for a year while he was on Sabbatical from
the university. So Burgos switched over to Engineering. Then, he
was awarded a LARSS fellowship in his senior year. That's a Langley
Aerospace Researchers Summer Scholars Fellowship. He worked in
the very branch where he later had a job."
Skinner was following everything carefully. Took in the little bits of
string that criss-crossed the second and third columns. He also took in
the animation of his agent. Damned, it was good to see. Mulder
looked like he was enjoying himself. The younger man then pointed to
the middle card in the second column.
"Then he went to Stanford. Turns out that the professor he worked
with there had gone to school with Burgos' research advisor at Iowa
State. They worked in similar areas. Now, at Stanford, Burgos
worked on the development of network protocols for computers. It has
to do with the way they communicate across the internet. And he
developed these control protocols using something called Artificial
Neural Networks with Fuzzy Logic."
Mulder paused after the tongue twisters and then stared at his boss.
Skinner was starting to feel lost and was hoping the younger man
would explain what it all meant. Not yet, evidently.
Mulder said, "And ..." Skinner was amused as the man stressed the
word, and he smiled again, just slightly at Mulder's obvious interest.
Maybe this wasn't such a bad case for the man to get involved in after
all.
" And .... he was funded out of the DoD."
Mulder seemed quite satisfied and Skinner could understand why.
There were connections upon connections here. Mulder was rocking
slightly on the balls of his feet. He gestured sort of vaguely at the wall.
"Now, the thing is, sir, according to our people who researched it, he
was way ahead of his time in every area. These network protocols
were just being identified in the EE field as being important. ANNs
and Fuzzy Logic had only been heard of by a handful of people around
the world, and then only in terms of little academic exercises. This
guy, Burgos, was unquestionably a genius. And the work was
evidently his, too. It wasn't the idea of the professor, this Hardison
guy."
Skinner nodded and said, "So we have multiple connections with
numerous agencies and companies from the early seventies at the least,
explaining how he ended up in so many different jobs. Does anyone
understand what he actually did in this research? Whether these ANNs
and Fuzzy Logic and .... network protocols are important to the case?"
Mulder nodded to him, then said, "Our people sent summary briefs and
Scully's been plowing through papers and his theses. I think it's
obvious that he is who he is because of these early experiences. And
whether the actual technology he developed and used in his early work
has anything to do with the robotic diagnostic system at the air
separation plant is still an open question."
Skinner saw the younger man turn to his partner. A look was
exchanged that Skinner couldn't make out. But Mulder turned back
again and continued.
"It gets better, though. He went to Georgia Tech in Atlanta after his
masters. Evidently, to work with the leading expert in Simple Genetic
Algorithms."
Skinner couldn't help the sigh of exasperation. All these words were
unknowns to him. It was like his agent was talking in French or
something. Scully must have picked up on his frustration because she
put a hand on her partner's arm and turned to him.
"You see, sir, what's interesting about this research from both his
M.S. and Ph.D. is that it's all based on biological ideas of Natural
Selection and how the brain works and makes connections in order to
accomplish tasks. ANN's -- Artificial Neural Networks -- are just
mathematical models that provide some output given some set of
inputs. And they find the answer in a similar way to how our brains do
it. We see some stimuli, process it neurally, then have some
recognition, or output, of what it means. And ANNs are interesting
because they're trained over time to recognize things just like we are."
Scully shifted a bit, glanced at the wall again, then back to Skinner.
"And Fuzzy Logic is pretty much just what it sounds like. It's a way
of allowing things to have some fuzziness instead of just 'on' and 'off'
kinds of decisions. Simple Genetic Algorithms are computer methods
that mimic natural selection. You start with some population of
possibilities, then the best members of the population exchange genetic
material to create new members. So in a design sense, for example, the
population could be made of a hundred possible designs, each of which
has some goodness factor to it. Then various members of the
population are chosen to mate, so, for example member 8 and member
42 mate and produce two new children. If members 8 and 42 had high
goodness factors to start with, then the chances are that their children
will have even better goodness factors. And over many generations,
the entire population of designs keeps improving."
Skinner felt a headache coming on. He tried not to look to pained as he
asked Scully, "You understand this?" He glanced over to take in
Mulder as well.
Scully said, "I understand the basics, sir. Enough, I think, to be able
to put the science of the robotic sensing and diagnostic system into
context."
Mulder just shrugged noncommittally.
Skinner looked between them once more, then said, "So finish telling
me about the connections here."
"Okay, it's an easy one. Spent a year at NASA Langley during his
Ph.D., but was funded on a DARPA project. Very unusual. That's
what we have so far and those are the connections we found just by
going through the stack of university background checks. We haven't
even gotten to the third column yet, when he worked. We're going to
tackle that after lunch."
Skinner nodded, glanced down at his watch and said, "Why don't we
break now. It's well past noon. And I'll help this afternoon, if there's
anything you could use me for. Otherwise, I'll get stuck with that idiot
from the RPD again."
While not really intending to, his comment elicited smiles from his
agents.
"So, what do you feel like for lunch?"
*******************************************
Sunday, 4:24 p.m.
Richmond Bureau, Command Center
Scully had been reading her stack of papers for the past several hours,
and Skinner had been helping Mulder in going through the information
pertaining to Burgos' work history. They were still seeking anything
that would help them to fill in those elusive three and a half missing
years. The stacks for Burgos' work years were by far the largest, with
as many as fifty pieces of data or sheets of information sometimes
affiliated with a single time period. For the man's time at the DoD,
Mulder had had to circle the alphabet twice so that the final sheet of
paper was marked: 11DDD24.
Mulder looked up from his stack and turned to his right. Skinner had
been fidgeting for the past half hour, glancing down at his watch every
few minutes, and he knew the older man was ready for a break. Hell,
so was he. But it had somehow become a test to see who could go the
longest. Mulder put his left hand to his face and rubbed briefly, then
dropped it and said, "Sir, I don't know about you, but I need a break.
I need to stretch my legs, go down to the Little Agent's room, maybe
get something to drink. How about you."
His boss sighed, as if in relief, and Mulder took it to mean yes. He
pushed back from the table and stood wearily, then looked down to the
other end of the table where his partner still sat engaged by whatever
she was reading. Or maybe she was in a daze. Perhaps she'd
managed to self-hypnotize.
"Hey, Scully."
His partner jerked upright and the papers on her lap went flying to the
floor. Oops.
"Sorry, Scully. We're just heading for a walk. Do you want
anything? Something to drink, maybe?"
She sort of 'Mmmmed' to him, which he took to mean yes. Jeez, all
this nonverbal communication must be a sign that people were tired.
"See you in a bit."
He caught a vague wave as she gathered her papers off the floor. His
boss gave instructions for the agent at the door to stay with Scully and
it dawned on Mulder that Skinner was his escort. He walked slowly,
content to follow wherever the older man was heading. He really just
needed to stretch legs and back. He put both arms up to his back and
sort of twisted from right to left as he walked. Then he realized
Skinner was looking back at him and he sped up to walk next to the
man.
"Problems, Mulder?"
"No, sir. Just stiff."
The older man nodded in understanding, not saying anything further.
Mulder realized they were in a part of the Bureau he hadn't seen before
and became curious.
"Where are we headed, sir?"
Skinner looked over to him with a smile and said, "I hear you play
basketball, Mulder. Rick said they have a pick-up league that plays
every Sunday afternoon. I figured since you were already dressed for
it, and were wanting some exercise, you might be interested in joining
them for a bit."
Mulder felt his breath actually catch at the thought. It had been a while
since he'd played. He hadn't seemed to be able to get out much lately.
Of course, he could have given up some of those hours he'd spent as a
couch potato.
He looked over at his boss again and asked, "Are you planning on
playing, sir?"
Skinner looked shocked at the suggestion. Then mildly horrified.
"Are you kidding, Mulder? Basketball? It's not exactly my sport. I'll
just sit on the sidelines and laugh at you all running back and forth
bouncing a rubber ball down the court."
They were at the double doors leading to the gym then and Mulder
recognized the shower and changing rooms he'd been in last night
down the hall. They'd just come at the area from a different direction.
Rick and some ten other agents were already there, dressed to play.
They were in smaller groups of threes and twos, doing various drills
and warm-ups. Rick caught sight of them and waved, then said
something to the agents he stood with before walking over to Mulder
and Skinner.
"Hey, there. Glad you took me up on my offer, Walt."
Skinner raised one hand quickly, shook his head and said, "Not me.
Like I told you. I watch, I don't play. Not basketball, anyway. But
Mulder here's supposed to be pretty good."
Mulder felt incredibly awkward and immediately started shaking his
head, prepared to object to the comment, but he never got the chance as
his arm was slapped and Rick headed off towards the group he'd left.
"Hey, guys. This here's Mulder. He'll be joining us."
Mulder looked around, decided he might be in some trouble. He was
quite possibly the shortest one out there. Rick was several inches taller
than he and most of these other agents seemed even taller than Rick.
Shit, what had he gotten himself into? He glanced back at Skinner with
a worried look to see the man already sitting on the bleachers, leaning
back comfortably, grinning. He had a feeling he'd been set up. He
turned back to the group of agents who had now clustered around
Rick. They were dividing into teams. And Mulder actually had to tip
his head back to look up at them. He breathed deeply and then
reminded himself. It's just a game. It's just for fun. And besides,
these guys are mostly older than you and probably in much worse
shape. Well, he hoped so anyway.
*******************************************
A little more than an hour later, Mulder stood wiping the sweat off his
face with a spare towel Rick had leant him. He'd ended up on Rick's
team and they'd managed to pull it out in the last few minutes. He'd
thrown two three pointers towards the end, which had helped to clinch
it. Both sides were congenial now, although they'd turned somewhat
viscous during play. He had a few new bruises to add to his
collection. That elbow in the ribs was particularly painful. And now
the man who'd done it to him, in such a way that no one else would
see, stood telling him what a great player he was. Go figure.
But it had certainly been fun. He'd needed it, in fact. Needed the
break from the case. Needed to just have fun with a bunch of other
people who also wanted to have fun. And these men were agents with
the Bureau, not one of whom had made a crack about Spooky Mulder.
Maybe there was hope for him yet.
Mulder glanced over to where Skinner had been to see not only his
boss, but Scully as well. She waved to him when she saw him looking
her way and he was filled suddenly with the desire to talk with her.
See what she'd been up to.
He excused himself from the agents around him and made his way over
to his partner and boss. Smiled in greeting.
"Hey, Scully, when did you get here?"
She was leaned back, against the bleacher behind her, arms raised on
either side, legs stretched out in front. She looked relaxed.
Comfortable.
"Oh, about forty-five minutes. There was a rumor of a big game, so I
decided it might be fun to watch."
Mulder smiled, used the towel to wipe at his arms and legs, sort of as
an afterthought and asked, "So was it? Fun, I mean?"
She laughed and it was like music. A beautiful laugh, had Scully. And
his own smile grew wider.
"Well, it was interesting. And, yeah, I guess fun. Although, I thought
this wasn't supposed to be a contact sport. Aren't you supposed to get
free throws or something when you get elbowed like that?"
Mulder was caught by surprise that she'd actually seen it. And then
was filled with warmth when he realized she'd been watching him that
closely. He smiled and sank onto the bleacher next to her, aware of
Skinner sitting on her other side, listening to their conversation.
He leaned back a little, stretching his legs, then said, "So you saw that,
huh? Well, all's fair in love and war, Scully. And, believe me when I
tell you that to these people, basketball is war."
He heard Skinner snort, leaned forward a bit and glanced beyond
Scully. His boss was smiling, still just sitting still, evidently content to
wait for Mulder and Scully to set the pace. But then the older man
spoke, and his words caught Mulder by surprise.
"Mulder, you seemed pretty good out there. Why don't you play with
the Bureau league back in DC?"
Mulder froze, not prepared to answer. How could he explain it after
all? How could he explain that here, for some reason, his reputation
hadn't caught up with him. That these agents had treated him with
respect, not derision. That what he'd get in DC would be Spooky
jokes. Scorn. Laughter at his expense. And there was only so much
of that a person could take. Then Scully saved him by answering, but
he quickly realized she wasn't going to pull any punches. And he
wanted to put a gag in her mouth.
"Because the DC agents are a bunch of morons who wouldn't
recognize a good agent if he bit them on the ass."
Mulder almost shuddered at the image that mixed metaphor
engendered, but wasn't able to say anything because Scully had the
floor once again.
"They're a bunch of jerks who act like little kids. Resorting to name
calling because of their own shortcomings and insecurities. They feel
threatened by the littlest thing that's different than what they're used to
and they don't have the imagination to appreciate that if they'd open
themselves to new experiences and ways of thinking, they'd be better
for it. A bunch of damned assholes. That's what they are."
Scully rambled to a stop and Mulder sat, red-faced, but filled now with
the desire to hug this woman sitting beside him. He decided to risk a
look to his left and saw Scully first, breathing heavily, her nostrils
actually flaring with every breath. Then he leaned forward a bit so he
could see Skinner and said, deadpanned, "Actually, sir, I'm usually out
of town that night."
And Skinner started laughing harder than Mulder had ever seen him
laugh. Actually, he wasn't sure he had ever seen the man laugh. And
then Scully wacked the heck out of his arm, and now he was struggling
between laughter and tears. He rolled off the bench and down to the
floor, then managed to struggle to a standing position, holding his left
arm in his right. And just as he was standing, he saw her turn towards
Skinner and whack him, too. And the expression on the man's face
was priceless, and the laughter stopped abruptly. Jesus, only Scully
could get away with hitting their boss without the excuse of being
drugged. He laughed even harder as Skinner put his hands up in mock
surrender and sank back against the bleacher.
He reached his right hand down to Scully then and said, "Come on,
partner. Let's get you out of here before you get us into even more
trouble."
She reached out her hand to him and let him pull her up. She was
standing in front of him then, wearing a wry grin, and he leaned down,
still holding onto her hand, and whispered for her ears only, "Thanks,
Scully."
She squeezed his hand and whispered back, "No problem, partner."
Rick's voice suddenly intruded, and Mulder dropped Scully's hand and
turned, to see Rick and a couple other agents standing behind him.
One of them reached out a hand and said, "Hey, Mulder. It was a
pleasure. I doubt you'll still be here next week, but if you are, you
know where we play."
Mulder shook and nodded, then said, "Thanks for the offer. It was
great. And you guys play only slightly dirty."
They seemed amused by that as they wandered off. Rick had stayed
and said, "Listen, unless you need me for anything specific, I'm
heading home for the night."
Skinner had pushed himself to a standing position and now moved
forward. "No problem. We'll see you in the morning, Rick. Unless
something comes up that absolutely needs your attention."
Rick waved to them all, said, "Take it easy. Remember, the case sat
for five weeks before you got involved. Don't kill yourselves."
Mulder didn't respond, but knew something that Rick didn't. Knew
that somewhere out there, Burgos was running for his life and time
was short. That someone wanted the man dead and would do anything
to kill him. And that now that same someone, or someones, wanted
Mulder and his partner dead, too. And Mulder wasn't about to let them
hurt Scully. So, if it meant a sleepless night or two, tracking down the
connections in this case, it would be worth it. But all he said was,
"Don't worry, Rick. We'll take it easy tonight. Go home and enjoy
your family for a change."
When he looked back to his partner, he found her smiling at him, and
realized that she knew what he'd done. She leaned towards him a bit,
cocked her head to the left, and said, "Why don't you get cleaned up,
Mulder. It's about 6:15 right now. We can put in an hour or so and
then call it a night. Get some dinner."
He nodded and took a step, as if to head past her, then realized he was
missing something. Like clean clothes. And before he could say a
word, Skinner had produced a gym back. Held it out to him silently.
He looked down at it, then back up to the older man's face, reached for
it and shrugged. Whatever. Go with the flow, Mulder.
"Meet you in ten minutes."
*******************************************
And it was just a little more than ten minutes when Mulder strolled
through the door of the command center, wearing jeans and a T-shirt,
just a tad too long in the legs, but otherwise a pretty good fit. At this
rate, Rick wouldn't have any clothes left to wear in a week. Mulder
would have them all back at his hotel.
Scully was back to her reading and Mulder nodded to the agent at the
door. Skinner had waited for him and now walked right behind him,
followed him into the conference room. Mulder felt good. Better than
he had in a very long time. He glanced over at his boss as they sat
back down at the table and wondered how the man had known. How
he'd known just what Mulder needed. Had Skinner somehow set the
whole thing up? No, it wasn't his style. Wasn't Rick's style either.
But the man had given him the chance to see that he could get respect
from his peers. It was possible. Even if he didn't see it at DC,
working on the X-Files, it didn't mean it wasn't possible. And Scully.
Jesus, he couldn't describe what it had meant to him to turn around
after the game and see her sitting there. And then to discover she was
watching so closely she saw that elbow that no one else had. Could
there be a better friend anywhere?
He expelled a small self-satisfied sigh and reached out for the stack
he'd been working on earlier. Time to get back to work. And it
dawned on him that he was excited about it. That he was ready to stay
all night if necessary. It was a puzzle that he was now interested in,
invested in, and he wanted to solve it.
Fifteen minutes later, Skinner jerked next to him, continued reading for
several long moments, then said, "Damn! We got it!"
Mulder and Scully both sat straighter in their chairs and Mulder said,
"What, sir? What did you find?"
Skinner turned to him, holding the page out. "You told us Burgos said
the name Jeffries, right?"
Mulder nodded, even as he was reaching for the paper.
Skinner said, "Well, Jeffries is evidently a company. Not a man. Here
it refers to Jeffries Technical Solutions, Inc. located right outside of
Richmond. That's got to be the place. Right?"
Mulder was reading fast, trying to scan the page without missing
anything pertinent. It was a throw-away comment, obviously not
considered to be of any worth by the analyst who ran the initial search
for information. It was a reference to Burgos' years at NASA, where
evidently he'd developed some software that was later marketed
through Jeffries Technical Solutions, Inc. It seemed right somehow.
But what the hell would a software marketing company be doing
chasing people down in black cars and shooting at Federal Officers?
Mulder scrunched his forehead, trying to work it out. It didn't make
any sense, actually, despite the fact that the place was close and Burgos
had dealings with it. Software companies didn't generally mess around
with hardware. And the robotic sensing and diagnostic system
definitely had a huge hardware component.
He realized then that Scully stood, leaning against his back lightly,
reading over his shoulder. He turned to her, eyebrow raised and
asked, "What do you think, Scully?"
Her brow was furrowed in concentration and her lips were pursed.
Her words surprised him when she spoke, but he realized immediately
she was right.
"You said he worked at NASA during his Ph.D. but was funded by
DARPA and that that was extremely unusual. Maybe this company,
Jeffries, that supposedly converted his software when he was at NASA
is just a front for a government agency."
Mulder sat back then, as her words sank in. Nodded in acceptance.
This sounded right. He could feel Scully standing behind him, her left
hand still on his shoulder, and her presence solidified the rightness,
somehow. He turned to his left to look at Skinner and nodded.
*******************************************
Mulder was dressed head to toe in black. Black jeans, black T-shirt,
black tennis shoes, black leather jacket. And underneath it all, in
response to some urging he couldn't explain, black boxers and black
socks. He figured it was a good luck thing. He always carried them,
just in case. Never knew when you might need to keep a low profile.
And he was shocked when he opened his door to find Skinner similarly
dressed.
"What's wrong, Mulder? What did you expect me to wear? A suit?"
Mulder closed his mouth and backed up, giving his boss the room to
enter. He shook his head in haste and turned to his partner, hoping
she'd help him out. But she was still pissed at him. She'd been
overruled and she didn't like it. Not one bit. She was staying home
tonight.
Mulder was flustered, completely unused to the idea of breaking the
law along side his boss. Hell, he never thought straight-shooter
Skinner had it in him. But then he recalled a certain deal. And
remembered a certain case. And realized Skinner would break the law
and worse if the man thought it was for a greater good.
Mulder headed over to his suitcase and pulled out a flashlight, checked
it against his hand, then pulled out another. Did the same. He laid
these on the bed. Then pulled out some high powered binoculars and a
small gun and ankle holster. He brought both over to the bed, laid the
binoculars next to the flashlights, then sat down on the edge of the bed
and started strapping on the holster. Checked to make sure the weapon
was loaded. He stood, checked to make sure his jeans fell in such a
way that the weapon wouldn't be obvious, then headed back to the
suitcase when he was satisfied.
He rummaged around a bit and pulled out a pair of tight black leather
gloves, put them in his left pocket. Then searched again and pulled out
a little leather case. Flipped it open and made sure all the tools were
there. They were. Never knew when you might need to pick a lock.
He folded the case and put it in his right jacket pocket. Then went back
to the suitcase. There was one more item they absolutely had to have.
Found the small cylinder and slipped it in an inside pocket.
When he turned, both Skinner and Scully were staring at him, standing
at the foot of the bed. Both had their arms crossed and wore what he
could only describe as smirks on their faces. He stood a bit straighter,
feeling the need to defend himself.
"Well, you never know .... "
But he couldn't complete the thought. He gave a little groan and said
instead, "Look, I think we're ready, sir. Unless you can think of
anything else we might need."
Skinner merely shook his head, then reached one hand out. Mulder
picked up the flashlights and gave him one, then slipped the binoculars
in the other inside pocket. He put the flashlight in his right outside
pocket, along with the little case of locksmith tools. He stood for a
moment thinking, then patted all his pockets. Nodded his head and
breathed deeply. This would be different.
*******************************************
Sunday, 11:21 p.m.
Outside of Richmond, Jeffries Technical Solutions, Inc.
Mulder lay on the slight ridge, under a shrub, staring through the high
powered binoculars. The night was dark and there was no artificial
light for miles except for that being produced in the buildings below. It
was a clear night so the stars were visible and the moon was almost
full. He was surrounded by the smell of spring. The grass, the trees,
even the little wild flowers in bloom about him. And nothing moved.
It was as if Nature had decided to go to bed early, to allow them to
make their attack in peace.
He hadn't moved for the past minute, except to shift the binoculars
slightly from one side of the building to the other. He pulled them
away finally and handed them to his right without a word. Waited and
watched while Skinner stared at the building. Then after a while he
said, "My informants said this place has only standard security
systems." He smiled a bit in the dark, thinking of the Lone Gunmen as
informants.
He heard Skinner breathe deeply, then ask, "Could they really know,
though? If this place is a front, they'd have layers upon layers. No
telling what the truth is."
Mulder nodded, understanding all too well the dilemma. "But it could
be that if they've been operating in secret, but in the open, all this time,
they might be overconfident. They could just be trusting on their past
luck to hold out."
Skinner nodded. Breathed heavily again, in sort of a loud sigh. "I
don't know, Mulder. It looks too easy. And my experience is that if it
looks too easy, then it is. There's probably something else you don't
see."
Mulder turned to him and asked, "What do you recommend, sir?" He
trusted the older man's judgment. His experience. He was willing to
defer this time. But Skinner surprised him.
"We go. But carefully, making sure we have a backup plan every step
of the way that'll remove us from the situation if it turns bad."
Mulder nodded, took the binoculars back and tucked them back in their
pocket. "So, which way do you think?"
Skinner glanced back down at the far structure before looking back to
Mulder. "The South entrance, I'd say. What do you think?"
Mulder smiled, and said, "I agree. No lights there." And he saw
Skinner nod in agreement.
Ten minutes later, they'd made their way carefully around to the left so
they could enter through the South door. It was obvious from this
angle that there were actually two buildings, three stories high,
connected by a walkway. That made things a bit more difficult. And it
was confusing. The guys never said anything about two buildings. In
fact, they'd faxed what they could find of a floorplan. Now what?
They'd have to start with one of the buildings at random and then hope
they could make it through to the other one if it became necessary.
On this side, they could see a loading dock, with a smaller door to the
side, concrete steps leading up. This looked like their best bet. Mulder
started to stand from the bushes they'd been hiding behind when
Skinner grabbed his arm. Pointed to a corner of the building closest to
them. A camera. Mulder smiled, reached into a pocket and pulled out
his little cylinder. He raised his hand up to Skinner, palm out,
motioning him to hold on. Then waited until the camera was pointing
away and leapt from the bush, sprinted across the twenty-five yard
open area to stand with back against the building under the camera.
He was in a dead spot. Couldn't pick him up here. He waited until it
had swung to the right, then opened the cap of the cylinder, jumped up
and grabbed the support truss on which the camera was mounted and
pulled himself up, wrapped his arm around the bar, then freed one
hand, reached in front of the camera and quickly sprayed multiple
times. That should do it. He dropped then, walked a couple feet out
and surveyed his work. The lens was completely coated. They'd have
a short time now before some security guard came to investigate. But
they'd better move fast.
He gestured to Skinner and then headed to the door by the loading
dock. He checked around the door, looking for any obvious trips.
Didn't see any, so pulled out his black case and found the right tools.
Skinner was right next to him and leaned in close, then whispered,
"Agent Mulder, I had no idea you had so many hidden talents."
Mulder wasn't sure whether he should be worried or not so kept his
eyes on the lock. Then it was open and there were no obvious alarms
sounding. He smiled to his boss, sort of a 'look at what I can do' kind
of smile, that evoked a look of disgust from the other man. But he
knew Skinner wasn't serious when the man said, "Good work. Let's
go."
They were through the door then and Mulder closed it quietly behind
them. Skinner was in the lead, heading down the hallway slowly and
carefully. Then he was against a wall to the left and gesturing at
Mulder to do the same. Mulder didn't question it, just threw himself as
flat as possible against the wall, then slid slowly towards his boss.
Skinner shushed him so he just waited, knowing that the man would
fill him in when he could.
And then Mulder heard a scuffle and realized someone was there. Most
likely a security guard. After the longest five minutes of his life, his
boss moved finally, and Mulder breathed a sigh of relief. Jesus, he'd
thought the entire venture was going to be over and done with before
they'd even gotten a chance to start. Skinner was gesturing to him to
follow, so he left the wall and trailed after the man. It was an
incredibly odd sensation. Usually he was the one leading the way,
breaking into buildings he wasn't supposed to be in. But this time, he
was following his frigging boss. He shook his head at the thought and
picked up speed. They had a lot of ground to cover and they didn't
have much time.
They got to a corridor and had to make a decision. Left or right.
Mulder looked over to his boss. Shrugged. Looked down one
hallway, then the other. Had an idea.
"Look, sir. I think we should split up. We have maybe ten minutes at
most before someone realizes one of the cameras is black. We need to
be out of here by then. We need to cover as much ground as possible."
Skinner looked like he was in pain. Like this was definitely not an
option he wanted to consider, and was very unhappy that he was
having to consider it. He bit at his lip, raised his right hand and rubbed
his forehead, then temples. No, the man definitely didn't want to make
this decision. But he finally whispered, "Okay, Mulder. But so help
me, you better not get me in trouble with Scully or I'll kill you myself."
Mulder smiled at that, nodded and said, "Don't worry, sir. I'll be
careful. You want right or left?"
Skinner shrugged and waved to the left, then said, "We meet back here
in seven minutes, regardless of where we are or what we find. If one
of us doesn't show, the other heads back and alerts the authorities.
Got it?"
It was asked fiercely and Mulder wasn't about to argue. He took a
good look at his watch and figured the deadline. Nodded and took off.
They had to find out what this place was all about. What went on here.
And they had seven damned minutes. Jesus. He padded down the hall,
quietly. Carefully. There was no movement. No lights. Nothing at
all. He took note of the nameplates on the doors and decided these
were all offices. He decided to open one at random, did so and saw
nothing but a regular office, computer sitting in the corner. A couple
file cabinets. A couple shelves. He closed the door and continued,
then decided he needed to go up a floor.
He found a stairwell. Checked it carefully before entering, then ran up
the two flights. Cracked the door open and looked out, listened for
anything out of the ordinary. Then moved out, into the hallway. This
was something a bit different. Maybe the jackpot. Could it be this
easy? There were what appeared to be labs on either side of the
hallway, each enclosed with glass walls, covered with shades. But the
shades were almost all open, so that he could see right in.
There was definitely more than just software being developed here. He
glanced down at his watch and realized he was almost out of time. He
ran up the hallway, pausing just long enough in front of each one to
glance in and try to understand a little bit of what was going on inside.
The pressure was building. He glanced at his watch and saw he had
one minute to get back. The end of the hall beckoned, but he stopped.
Turned, sprinted toward the stairway. Skinner was depending on him.
He couldn't let the man down.
*******************************************
When Mulder turned off to the right, Skinner turned left. These
seemed to be offices. Nothing more. Nothing really interesting. He
looked in one, then another, but saw nothing to raise questions. He
got to the end of the hall quickly, then decided to see about other
floors. HE opened the stairway and saw stairs going up and down.
They'd never really even considered the possibility of lower floors. So
he headed down, quickly, but making sure there were no cameras. No
people.
When he got to the bottom of the stairway, he opened the door slowly,
checking for any evidence of people. It seemed clear. He peeked out,
then allowed his body to follow. What the hell? The door opened
directly into a huge lab area. There was a table across the way and to
the right that held models on it. He walked over to it and recognized
one of the models as being the air separation plant that had blown in
Hampton. The other model on the table was of a nuclear power plant.
He had no idea which one, where it was located. But the sight of the
model, sitting next to the one of the plant that exploded, filled him with
dread and with fear. It seemed to him that it could mean only one
thing.
He felt his breath release, almost explosively, and then he looked down
at his wrist watch. Damn it. He was going to be late if he didn't get
moving right now. But he needed to know where this plant was
located. He wavered for several heartbeats and then turned for the
stairs. Mulder was counting on him. He couldn't let his agent down.
*******************************************
When Mulder arrived back at the specified site at the specified time, his
boss was nowhere to be seen. Well, there was still another thirty
seconds or so to go, so he decided to just wait. Skinner would show.
He knew it. But two minutes later, Mulder was getting more than
worried. He was practically frantic. Something had happened. The
agreement was that in the event of things going awry, the other agent
would leave and get help. But, that might be too late. Skinner might
need help right now.
So Mulder took off in the direction Skinner had headed and quickly ran
out of hallway. He saw the stairwell and knew that the older man
would have gone there. He opened the door and froze, listening for the
smallest sound that might suggest where Skinner might be. And just as
he was set to start up the stairs, he heard a sound below him.
Mulder pulled out his weapon and started down, back against the wall,
but careful not to make any noise. As he got closer to the bottom, he
could swear he heard something. A scuffling. Perhaps even a word or
two. He got to the door and stood there, ear pressed against it. It
sounded like harsh breathing. Nothing more. Mulder checked his
weapon once more, grabbed the door handle in his left hand, planted
himself so he could move fast, then swung the door open and threw
himself into the room.
The sight in front of him almost left him speechless and filled him with
an immediate panic.
*******************************************
Skinner knew he had to move fast to make it back to Mulder in time.
As it was, he'd probably be as much as a minute late. He was pretty
sure Mulder would wait that long at least. So he was a bit careless
when he approached the stairwell and threw the door open. And the
sight on the other side shocked the shit out of him. Almost.
There was a man there, dressed all in black, much as he and Mulder
were. But it wasn't Mulder. And Skinner was pretty darned sure he
didn't want to wait around to find out who it was. He reached out and
grabbed the man, pulling him into the lab. Then reached for his gun,
and had it pointed at the man on the floor in little more than ten
seconds. The problem was, the man on the floor also had a gun. And
it was pointed at Skinner, even as his was pointed at the MIB on the
floor. That's how Skinner thought of him. The MIB.
Both men were breathing heavily, in harsh spurts. Skinner could feel
the sweat under his arms and coating his back. Rolling down his
forehead and into his eyes. The MIB kept his weapon trained on
Skinner as he moved slowly, raising himself to a sitting position, then
pushed himself up into a crouch. Skinner was thinking fast, trying to
put the pieces together. Trying to decide the best course of action. His
agent still waited for him one story up. He needed to get back to
Mulder or there'd be hell to pay.
As the MIB was moving to stand, slowly but deliberately, Skinner
moved himself around so that he could get out the door quickly. He
was in position finally, even as the MIB pushed himself finally to an
upright position, with his feet planted firmly. It was a standoff. And
Skinner had no idea how it would end. He refused to take his eyes off
the MIB. He decided to let the other guy make the first move. But
before that could happen, the door behind him burst open and Mulder
was there, next to him, weapon out and pointed at the MIB. And
Skinner almost had heart failure when the MIB swung his weapon
towards the new participant. And just as Skinner's finger was
tightening on the trigger, he heard Mulder say, "You fucking asshole,
what the hell do you think you're doing?!?"
In a confused and shocked part of Skinner's brain, it occurred to him
that Mulder might actually be speaking to him. But then he knew his
agent had spoken the words to the other man when the MIB laughed
and said, "You little shit for brains, what the fuck are you doing here
Spookster?"
Skinner couldn't believe it. Mulder knew this man? Evidently, if his
agent's next words were any indication.
"Rand, you're presently holding your weapon on Assistant Director of
the FBI Walter Skinner and while you are with a different agency, I
would imagine that if he wanted to, AD Skinner could still make your
life a living hell in the NSA."
The MIB dropped his arm, then sluggishly shoved his weapon into his
jeans waistband. Then the man grinned at Skinner good-naturedly and
it was just too surreal. What the hell was going on here? And Jesus,
the time. They needed to get out. Now. Skinner turned to his agent
then.
"Mulder, I don't really know what's going on here, but we are way
past our deadline. We have to get out of here. Now."
His agent nodded in understanding, then turned to the other man,
Rand.
"Come on. We'll talk outside."
The NSA agent nodded and gave a 'you first' gesture. Mulder and
Skinner took him up on the offer, preceding him up the stairs. Mulder
started rummaging around in his pockets awkwardly with his free
hand, gun still in his right. They were almost to the landing when he
realized his locksmith case was missing. He said, "I dropped
something. Meet you by the outside door. Be right back." And then
was gone before Skinner could object.
Skinner paused on the landing, then decided any trouble would most
likely come from the door they'd entered where Mulder had painted the
security cam. He went on, extremely uncomfortable with the man by
his side. The man who was a stranger. Who wasn't Mulder.
They were at the door now and Skinner stood looking back down the
hallway. Where the hell was his agent? It couldn't have taken the man
but thirty seconds to get what he needed. Skinner glanced at his watch,
feeling the pressure building even more. He actually watched the
seconds tick by. One by one. And then an entire minute had gone by,
and he was certain then that something had gone wrong. He glanced
over at the other man to see an equally concerned face, then decided to
check it out. But he'd only taken a few steps, the other man behind
him, when they both stopped dead in their tracks. There was a familiar
sound outside. The screeching of tires.
Skinner turned and ran for the door, throwing it open just in time to see
a black car, with tinted windows tearing away from the building. He
was pretty damned sure he knew who was in the car. Jesus Christ,
Scully was definitely going to kill him. And he'd hand her the knife to
do it, too, because this was definitely his fault.
*******************************************
A half hour later, Skinner and Rand made it to the car Skinner had
parked by the side of a nearby road a couple hours before. Skinner
was still furious with himself. He and Rand had gone back to the
basement and seen Mulder's leather case with the locksmith tools. The
case he'd gone back for. But no Mulder. They'd searched the building
quickly, but knew, both of them, what had happened. They needed to
get out and track down that damned car.
Skinner was driving. Was speeding up the road at sixty-five in a forty
mile an hour zone. The cops could just live with it. He had to get back
to the hotel so he could start making phone calls. And so he could tell
Scully that he'd lost her partner.
And ten minutes later, he was doing just that. She was still awake
when they got there. And didn't seem to notice for the first ten seconds
of so that the second man with Skinner wasn't her partner. Then she
did a double take, and sent beseeching eyes to her boss.
"Sir? Where's Mulder?"
He closed his eyes for a moment, almost overwhelmed at how difficult
this was. Then looked right at her when he said, "They got him. We
saw a black car tearing away from the place. I'm pretty sure Mulder
was in it."
He held his arms up, away from his body, and said, "I'm sorry,
Scully. Jesus. I'm so sorry."
She was obviously struggling with the fact, but then straightened a bit
and said, "So, how do we get him back? And who the hell is this?"
Skinner waved at the man, said, "Agent Mulder and this man are
acquainted. This is .... Rand, who's with the NSA, apparently."
Rand folded his right arm across his chest and bent at the waist in a
courtly bow. "My pleasure, ma'am."
Skinner saw that Scully had her eyes tight, and wore an I'm-not-
amused look, so decided to intercede.
"Scully, we need to move fast. Who was working the black car angle,
do you remember off hand?"
She grimaced and shook her head, then added, "Rick assigned it, sir."
Skinner nodded, raised his left hand to rub his eyes under his glasses.
Rick. Well, there was nothing for it. He had to make the call.
*******************************************
All Mulder knew was that he was getting sick and tired of being
slammed into walls. There were definitely going to be some more nice
bruises. He didn't know who the hell these guys were. Didn't know
what they wanted, except that they were determined that he was coming
with them. They searched him -- superficially thankfully -- and one of
them took his weapon while another put duct tape over his mouth.
Then they wrapped the tape around his hands, behind his back,
grabbed his arms and yanked. They headed into the lab, past the table
with the two models. Mulder shuddered at the sight, able to add one
plus one, just as Skinner was.
And then they were at a back entrance that Mulder hadn't seen before.
And he was being dragged up stairs, even while trying to make it
difficult for them. But they were big guys who weren't phased in the
slightest. They basically carried him. Got outside, into the air, and
one of them opened the trunk of a black car, perhaps even the black
car, and then came back to grab his legs while the other guy grabbed
his arms. And he was thrown into the trunk without another thought.
And the lid slammed closed so that he lay alone, in the total dark,
unable to scream out, unable to free his hands.
And the car was moving then. Screeching its tires in that sickening
way he'd prayed he'd never hear again. But despite the screeching, he
heard voices. Heard one say, "How about the usual place?" And then
the other said, "Nah, they said to lose the body for a long time after.
We need someplace else."
Mulder understood then that they were plotting his demise, even as he
listened, the sick fucks. And it reminded him of 101 Dalmatians when
the idiot twins were trying to decide how to kill the puppies and were
discussing it right in front of them all. He felt like one of the puppies.
Knew now just how they felt. Except the puppies didn't have a spare
gun tucked under their fur. If he could manage to reach it, he just
might be able to shoot out the lock.
He was on his left side, arms behind him, legs pulled up close to his
stomach. He started shifting, slowly, making sure not to make noise,
making sure not to hit anything. He managed to shift his legs enough,
to get them in the right place. He started pushing at the jeans leg,
thankful that they hadn't wrapped his legs in tape as well. He pushed it
up enough, then had to rest. He'd never make it as a contortionist. He
was breathing fast, in and out of his nose. And he wished he could
breathe through his mouth because it stank in here. Idly, as he
struggled to loose the little weapon from his ankle holster, he wondered
just how many other bodies had been thrown in the back of this trunk.
And just as he thought the words 'other bodies', the gun came loose.
how the hell was he going to do this. His hands were behind his back
and he was terrified that if he fired in this position, he'd shoot part of
his rear end off. But there was nothing for it. He had to take the shot
of he was dead meat. Literally.
He shifted around until he thought he had the angles right. Then
waited, trying to figure out where he was. Whether he was in a
deserted area or a populated one. He prayed for the city. Prayed for
lots of people. Then the car seemed to slow and he knew a corner was
coming. He waited until they'd started around it and took the shot,
flinching automatically as the sound echoed loudly through the trunk.
He could see the trunk open a couple inches, bouncing lightly as the car
drove over small imperfections in the street. And the car didn't stop or
even slow. Were these guys idiots? Were they deaf? How could they
not hear that?
Mulder flicked the safety, then tucked the gun in the back of his pants.
He pushed himself to the back end and looked out through the crack
there. Damn, nothing but grass and trees on either side. Figured.
Well, he still had to move. And if these two idiots were truly so
unaware, then maybe they wouldn't notice if he slipped out at the next
corner or stop sign.
Mulder prayed for a stop sign or light. 'Please, Lord, please. I think
you owe me a few, wouldn't you say? How about a little stop sign?
Just a little one? Nothing big required.'
He'd just about given up on the idea when the car started stopping and
brake lights flashed. It seemed that stop signs in rural Virginia were
interpreted as yield signs after midnight, but hell, it was pretty close.
Mulder pushed himself up and over the trunk so that he was hanging
out, then swung a leg over and straightened himself so that when he
fell, it would be longways, instead of on his head. He waited until the
car was at its slowest and then let himself roll off, surprised at how
effective rolling was, even on concrete roads. Of course, thick leather
jackets and jeans offer some protection, but still.
As he came to a stop finally, he decided he owed the guy upstairs a
huge thank you. At the least. He lay in the road for a minute at least,
trying to catch his breath, expecting every second that the car would
return. But it didn't. And finally he moved. Got to his knees,
awkwardly, after much trying. Then balanced carefully as he climbed
to his feet. He had no idea how hard it was when your arms were tied
behind your back.
Mulder looked around, trying to decide which way to go. Back the
way they'd come. Right or left on the intersecting road. The black car
had turned left. Forget that. He decided to head to the right. He was
pretty sure he saw lights in that direction.
He started jogging, taking it easy. His breathing was completely
restricted with his mouth taped. He couldn't run this way. An easy
jog would have to do. The sweat had started already and rolled into his
eyes. He couldn't even wipe it away. It was making his nose itch.
But he couldn't scratch his nose, because his hands were tied. This
was not good. He kept at the jog, careful to listen in front and behind
for anything out of the ordinary. Glanced back occasionally to look for
car lights amidst the sea of black. So far, so good.
And then he saw it ahead. Saw the farm house. And there was a car
next to it. Thank you. Thank you. Now please let them be people
with just a little bit of common sense. Please, Lord, I know it's asking
an awful lot. But please give them just a bit of common sense.
He stopped at the door, tried to decide whether there was any other
way of doing this, then decided the straightforward approach was
probably the best. He knocked on the door with his head. Then
kicked a couple times with his feet. Tried to yell out, only to have it
come out as a muffled, crazy sound. He kicked again a few times and
was reassured when a light came on. Then the door opened and he
was staring at the end of a shotgun, aimed right between his eyes.
He pulled them up to see the face of an old man, obviously shocked to
see a man standing at his door with duct tape across his mouth.
Mulder said, "Help me." But it came out, "Huuummm."
And somehow, the old man seemed to trust him. He put the shotgun
down and opened the door, took Mulder by the arm and led him inside,
then sat him down in a chair in the hallway. There was a woman on
the stairs, eyes wide. And she came down to the hallway when she
saw what her husband had brought inside.
The old man grabbed one corner of the tape, ready to pull, and then
paused. Said, "It's gonna hurt."
Mulder knew that. Nodded his head and clenched his teeth. He still
wasn't prepared for the rip that had to have taken off several layers of
skin. He sat gasping for air, squeezed his eyes to fight off the tears
that had formed when millions of little cells in his epidermis cried out in
agony all at once, then mumbled, "Thank you."
The old man was behind him, starting to work on the hands, when he
must have seen the gun. The guy grabbed it, then held it out, pointed
towards Mulder. Mulder blinked his eyes rapidly, clearing them, and
managed, "My name is Fox Mulder. I'm a Special Agent with the FBI
Please call my supervisor. He's staying at the Richmond Marriot
Hotel, Room number 304. His name is Walter Skinner and he's an
Assistant Director with the Bureau. You can verify that information
through the Richmond Bureau. Please. Just call. You can leave me
tied up until then. Just call. Please."
He was embarrassed when his voice cracked towards the end, but he
just wanted to go home. Wanted to see Scully. Hell, he even wanted
to see Skinner. He'd closed his eyes again so was surprised to feel
fingers on his hands. He jerked and looked over his shoulder to see
the old man there, with a pen knife. And he said again, "Thank you."
Closed his eyes until his hands were freed.
Then the old man showed him to a phone and the woman was there,
with a towel that she'd wet and a glass of water. He knew the tears in
his eyes weren't from the tape anymore. He was just so very relieved.
He nodded and took the towel, ran it across his face, across his mouth,
and was surprised by how painful it was. He made a final swipe at the
eyes to clear them, then picked up the phone. He dialed quickly,
closed his eyes as the connection to the room was being made. He
wasn't sure whose room they'd be in. He called Skinner's first and it
finally went to an answering machine. Then he started over, trying not
to give in to despair, and called his room. It rang twice and then a
familiar voice answered, "Skinner."
He let out the breath he'd been holding explosively and dropped his
head to his chest in relief. Then managed to speak. "It's me. It's
Mulder." And before he could say anything else, his boss was yelling.
Yelling to him, yelling to Scully. To whoever else was there in the
room.
And he made out the question, finally, "Are you all right?"
"Yes, sir. I'm okay. But I need to be picked up. They might come
back for me. It's a fluke I got away at all. I'm .... "
And then he stopped because he had no idea where he was. Then said,
"Sir, I'm at a couple's home right now. They were kind enough to
help me. I'm going to put the gentleman on to tell you where I am.
Okay?"
He waited for Skinner to say yes, then held the phone out to the older
man. "Sir, this is my boss, AD Skinner of the FBI. They're going to
send some agents here, but he needs to know exactly where we are.
Could you give those details, please?"
The old man said yes, then stood straight. Brushed his hair back off
his forehead in an effort to look presentable. Mulder smiled at the
sight, then laughed out loud, even as the man started giving precise
directions. And then he decided this was probably the perfect time for
a rest. It was, after all, well beyond two in the morning. So he closed
his eyes and allowed himself to fall asleep, not even thinking about the
fact that it's generally not recommended to fall asleep while sitting on
the edge of a chair with no arms.
The old man and his wife grabbed at Mulder as he slid off the chair and
down to the ground, the man guiding his head down carefully. The
wife ran into the living room for a throw pillow and placed it under his
head. Then ran back for a light blanket and draped it over him gently.
Mulder was oblivious to it all.
*******************************************
Monday, 3:01 a.m.
Richmond, En Route to Marriot Hotel
Mulder opened his eyes just a bit to discover nothing but blackness,
then realized he was in a moving vehicle, then opened his eyes more
and started to jerk upright. But he was stilled by a gentle hand on his
arm and his partner's voice. "It's okay, Mulder. We're on the way to
the hotel."
Then he realized that the blackness was caused by the fact that his face
was buried in her shoulder and that the car he was in was their own
rental. He and Scully were in the back seat. He moved his head
enough to see that Skinner was in the front passenger seat and the agent
who'd been guarding them the past couple days was driving. He
allowed his head to drop down again, and fell into a state of semi-
awareness.
He knew that Skinner and the agent driving spoke occasionally. And at
least once, Skinner and Scully spoke. But he wasn't really aware of
the words. Didn't have the energy to force them to make sense. So he
let the words wash over him like water. They were soothing.
Calming. But a thought kept nagging at him. Something he wanted to
share with his partner, even though he wasn't sure why. Whether it
was even important.
He couldn't really force himself up just now. Couldn't even force his
eyes to open again. So he mumbled into her shoulder. "Hey, Scully."
He felt the shift and knew she was staring down at him, trying to catch
a look of his face. He couldn't move to help her, though. His mind
wasn't really sharp, either, and he had a suspicion he was half asleep.
Then he wondered if it were possible to be half asleep and have the half
awake part realize that the other part was half asleep.
He mumbled again. "You ever see 101 Dalmatians?"
There was a long pause and complete silence in the car. He could
imagine Scully and Skinner trading worried looks. He wanted to
reassure them that it was all right. He hadn't lost his mind. There was
an actual point here somewhere. But he couldn't really explain it to
them. And then his partner answered finally.
"Yeah, sure, Mulder."
Her voice was so soft. So encouraging. Kind. It made him smile into
her shoulder.
"You know the part at the end where the guys are trying to decide how
to kill the little puppies? Should they bash their heads in or throw 'em
off the roof or whatever the hell it was. Remember?"
It was a long couple of sentences and just saying them had practically
exhausted him. Sent a large segment of the half awake part of his brain
off into never never land. He heard a little exasperated sound by his
ear and knew she was confused. But again she answered him, gently.
"Yeah, I remember that part, Mulder."
"They talked about it right in front of the puppies. Like the little things
couldn't even hear or understand. But they could."
He sighed, then forced out the last thought, "I know what they felt like,
Scully."
He closed his eyes more tightly then, and let himself go again. But he
felt her left arm tighten around his shoulder, felt her right hand move
up to rest on his head. And heard her whispering softly. The half
awake part of him finally given up the battle so he couldn't make out
her words. But he knew she said them for him. And he knew she'd
save them to tell him later when she realized he missed them this time
around.
*******************************************
Skinner was angry. Angry at these assholes who'd kidnapped Mulder,
then talked over his head about the best way to kill him. Angry at that
jerk, that Rand from the NSA, who refused to talk to anyone but
Mulder. But mostly he was angry as hell at himself for getting his
agent kidnapped to begin with. If he'd been paying better attention,
he'd been back at the rendezvous at the right time and they'd both have
been back at the hotel safe and sound.
But instead he was sitting here listening to his agent tell his partner just
how helpless he'd felt while they tried to decide how to best kill him.
Jesus. But he'd gotten away. Somehow. That was a mystery. A
welcomed one, but still a mystery. All the older couple could tell him
was that they opened the door to find Mulder standing there with duct
tape around his wrists and across his mouth. And thank God they had
trusted Mulder enough to let him make the phone call. That was
basically luck.
The car came to a stop finally and Skinner surveyed the area, hand on
weapon. The agents from the car behind and in front had already
gotten out and stood ready and alert. Then two more agents came out
of the front of the hotel, following Rick. Skinner was happy to see the
man, but couldn't help feeling guilty. The poor guy just wasn't getting
a break on this case.
When everyone was in position, he glanced back to check on his
agents, then swung open his own door. He opened the back passenger
door, where Scully sat and leaned in a bit.
"Do you think you can wake him up, Scully?"
He hated thought of disturbing his agent, but they had to get him inside
as quickly as possible. Scully looked like she was considering
refusing, then said, "I'll try, sir."
He turned his head away then and stood straight, with the pretext of
checking everyone's positions, but in reality to allow her some privacy.
He heard her voice, insistent, almost pleading. Then a sigh. He bent
down again and looked in. She was shaking her head.
"Sorry, sir. He's being pretty stubborn about it. I think he's out for a
while."
Skinner nodded and stood again, picking out another agent to help him.
He pointed to the man and said, "Halston, I need your help over here."
He sent Halston around to the other side, then had Scully get out. She
maneuvered carefully, lowering her partner to the seat as she slipped
out of the car finally. Skinner leaned in then and grabbed his agent
under the shoulders and started pulling, even as Halston picked up
Mulder's legs from the other side and lifted. They managed it
somehow, and Skinner started to rethink previous thoughts he'd had
that Mulder could use some extra pounds on his frame. Right now, his
agent was plenty heavy enough.
They had Mulder out of the car finally and managed to get him to an
upright position. Skinner was on his agent's right side and pulled the
right arm over his own shoulder, grabbing it tightly with his right
hand. He then wrapped his left arm around Mulder's waist, and noted
that Halston had done the same over on his side. The other man
nodded to him and they started towards the hotel finally.
Mulder hadn't budged. Hadn't moved a muscle. Hadn't uttered a
sound. Was completely oblivious to the fact that he'd just been
manhandled out of the car and was now being wrestled into the hotel.
In fact, when they first started towards the hotel, the irrational idea that
his agent was actually dead almost overwhelmed him. But the chest
rose and fell still with each breath. They were in the hotel and heading
to the elevator now and he could hear Rick ordering agents in various
directions. He caught a glimpse of a wide-eyed clerk and felt a
momentary pang of compassion for the young woman.
He was breathing a bit harder than usual now and felt an irritating bead
of sweat hovering above his right eyebrow. Jesus, it was going to
drive him crazy. He looked over to his right and saw Scully there,
standing patiently. Her eyes were intent on her partner, and Skinner
knew she wanted nothing more than to be able to check him out. Make
sure there weren't any hidden hurts.
The elevator doors opened and two agents were standing there, ready
to escort them to the rooms. More agents stood outside the open door
and Rick was already inside with another agent and the NSA guy.
Scully took in all the activity, the fact that Rand had evidently been
hitting Mulder's bar and making himself at home, and motioned
Skinner and Halston into her room. Skinner nodded and followed.
They got Mulder to the free bed finally and lowered him onto it gently.
Skinner paused a moment before standing, moving Mulder's
outstretched arm down by his side. He turned to Scully and said, "Do
you need anything right now?"
She nodded and said, "I'm going to need help getting him undressed.
And I'll need my bag. It's in the closet."
He told Halston he was free to go, then headed to the closet to retrieve
a small black bag. Seemed a bit too cliche', but he figured she got
quite a lot of use out of it partnered to Mulder as she was. They
managed to wrestle the jacket off him with little trouble and Scully
gestured down to shoes. Skinner quickly untied the laces and pulled
them off, along with the socks.
Scully was moving her hands around her partner's head, feeling for
any bumps probably. She laid the back of her hand on his forehead,
then felt his cheeks, and was evidently satisfied. She checked her
partner's pulse, then blood pressure, then ran through what Skinner
figured was a standard list.
She had brought back several wet washcloths and some hand towels
and Skinner watched as she started with Mulder's face, gently dabbing
at the spots of blood here and there that were the result of skin being
pulled away from the duct tape. She finished her ministrations, then
reached into the bag and dabbed some sort of ointment on her partner's
face. She looked up at him then and said, "Help me with the shirt?"
Skinner pulled his agent up to a sitting position, and braced him as
Scully rolled the cotton shirt up and worked it over her partner's head
and then arms. She gestured with one hand and then helped to lay her
partner flat again. Mulder still hadn't batted an eye, even with all the
pushing and pulling, carrying and dragging. Amazing.
Scully was shaking her head and Skinner could guess why. Bruises of
various shape, size, and color dotted Mulder's torso and arms. But the
worst of them seemed to correspond to the elbow in the ribs he'd
received playing basketball the night before. She picked up her
partner's right wrist and dabbed at it with one of the washcloths, much
as she had earlier. Spread on some ointment, then moved to the other
wrist. Repeated the process. Then she turned to her boss and said,
"Sir, he's fine. We can just let him sleep."
Skinner nodded, then watched as she went to her own bed, pulled
down the covers and yanked off a sheet and the light blanket. Then
placed the sheet over her partner and placed the blanket next to him,
within easy reach. She then stood and gestured to the other room. She
took her bag with her and put it back in the closet, then followed
Skinner into Mulder's room.
Skinner surveyed the agents in the room, prepared to send someone in
to stay with Mulder, but Rick had evidently already set it up. Halston
moved past him silently, and pulled the joining room door closed partly
behind him. Skinner found his gaze focusing on the man slumped in a
chair across the room. That damned NSA agent, Rand. What the hell
kind of a name was Rand, anyway? It was time for some answers.
But before he could start asking the questions, the man he'd been
staring at asked his own.
"How's the Spook doin'?"
Skinner stood and stared at the man, put his hands on his hips and
considered whether it would be worth the interagency hassle if he
popped this little prick in the chops. His tolerance level was about nil
right now.
"Who the hell are you? What the hell were you doing at Jeffries? And
how the hell do you know Agent Mulder?"
The man was insolent. That was the only way he could describe it.
But he realized then that it was all part of the charade, and that the guy
was maybe honestly curious about Mulder's condition. Skinner sighed
and moved to the bed, sinking onto it gratefully. The man across from
him seemed to get more serious. Was thoughtful for a few long
moments before finally answering.
"I know Mulder from way back. We ran into each other on a case
once. Sort of lost touch since then, but he's a good man. I trust him."
Skinner appreciated the subtle implication. That while this guy trusted
Mulder, he himself was a different matter. He just nodded and waited.
Decided the guy would make a decision finally one way or the other.
He'd either get his answers now or in a few hours when Mulder woke
up. Rand leaned forward and propped his elbows on his knees, then
rubbed at his face. When he looked up again, Skinner knew he was
going to get them now.
Rand said, "We started getting reports that the FBI was investigating us
in relation to the Hampton explosion. I was assigned to it. To find out
what the hell was going on. It seemed like a finger was starting to turn
our way and my supervisors weren't pleased. So we started our own
investigation. Found this guy Burgos pretty quickly and discovered
that someone had planted a false trail involving us."
Rand shifted in the seat, then pushed himself up and started moving
around the room. "So I had people following what Mulder was doing.
We got copies of everything he did. And ...."
He turned away from them, looked down at his feet and Skinner knew
what was coming. Filled in the blanks himself. "And you were
listening in on him. Following him? You had bugs? What?"
The other man grinned wryly, then said, "Yes. Yes. And yes." The
man's expression turned serious once more as he said, "We were right
behind him and that black car the other day in the park. Just couldn't
manage to catch up to him. And we almost got Burgos, but he got
away from us."
The man was shaking his head in disgust. "What a fuck-up. So
anyway, I knew Mulder was planning on hitting this place tonight, so I
decided to sort of .... tag along. Meet up with him. Somehow, I
didn't hear about you. It came as a bit of a surprise. Needless to say,
someone's head's goin' to roll."
The man managed to adopt a look of chagrin while simultaneously
appearing cocky. Then said, "Oh, and sorry about that gun thing."
Skinner saw Scully shoot him a look of inquiry, but he merely shook
his head. It wasn't important now. He looked at the NSA agent again
and asked, "What do you know about this Jeffries Technical
Solutions?"
"Not much more than you, I'm afraid. I do know one thing, though.
They were definitely involved in that explosion. We uncovered a
money trail this evening .... well, last night now I guess, right before I
headed out. Substantial funds transferred from an account in the
Caymans to Jeffries. So I got a search started on that account. While
you were retrieving Mulder I got an update. There was a transfer of
funds from that account to Air Supply. Different amounts. Different
dates. I have my people trying to track down all other transfers, but
most are multiple transfers. Difficult to establish origin or destination."
Skinner shook his head in amazement, more than anything else. Jesus,
what the hell had his agents stumbled into? He glanced over to Scully,
then to Rick. They seemed just as stunned at the implications. The
other agent in the room, the kid over by the door, Majors, seemed to be
trying for an expression of nonchalance but was failing miserably.
Then Skinner thought of something they hadn't yet discussed. Turned
to the NSA agent and asked, "What about the nuclear power plant? Do
you know which one it is?"
The man was obviously shifting gears, then started patting pockets.
He pulled out a folded and mangled piece of paper. "I found this. It
was lying on the table by the models." Rand offered it to him then.
As he reached for it, he filled Rick and Scully in on what they'd seen.
"There were two models down in this lab in the basement. One was of
the Hampton air separation plant. The other was of a nuclear power
plant."
He saw Scully pale. Noticed that Rick's shoulders slumped slightly.
It was obvious to all that if the Hampton explosion was phase one of
some sick experiment, then phase two couldn't be all that far behind.
And was potentially going to be hundreds and thousands of times more
lethal. He looked down at the paper in his hand. Saw that it was an
invoice with a name at the top. 'Virginia Nuclear Power: Evansville'.
Well, shit. At least they wouldn't have far to travel.
*******************************************
Monday, 10:04 a.m.
Richmond, Marriot Hotel
Scully headed next door to check on her partner once again. And was
rewarded this time by actual movement.
"Hey, Mulder. Are you in there somewhere?"
She sank down tiredly on the bed next to him and shook his arm
gently. He'd turned over at some point, was lying on his stomach, and
had his head under the pillow, both hands clamped on top of it. God
knew how he could even breathe. She heard a moan and something
that sounded like, "Jusalidllongergoway."
She doubted he was really awake yet. Probably had no idea who was
telling him to wake up or why. No idea even where he was. She
smiled and grabbed the pillow, pulling it off his head and leaned closer.
Whispered huskily in his ear, "Fox, honey, time to get up."
She leaned back then, and watched as the eyes flew open and he threw
himself off the other side of the bed so fast he fell on the floor. She
stood and walked around, staring down at him, arms crossed over her
chest. Gods, that was priceless. He'd looked scared to death at first,
but his expression had quickly changed to one of outrage.
"That wasn't funny, Scully. That was cruel."
"Oh I don't know, Mulder. I thought it was pretty funny. You have to
admit, I got you that time. Got you big."
He was starting to recover from the shock now and shot her a dirty
look. "Yeah, you got me all right. And almost gave me heart failure in
the process. Thanks. Thanks alot, partner. Wonderful way to wake
up."
She was starting to feel guilty now. Maybe it wasn't the kindest thing
to do, after the night he'd had. She moved forward and offered her
hand to help him up. He seemed to think about it for a moment, then
grabbed on at the wrist. She started pulling, but was caught completely
off guard as he yanked back hard and pulled her down. For just a
moment she lay on top of him, nose just inches from his. And before
she could react or move, he'd flipped her around so she was on the
ground, pinned under him. Then he leaned down close, to whisper in
a husky bedroom voice in her ear, "Dana, honey, was it as good for
you as it was for me?"
His laughter was interrupted by a throat being cleared from across the
room. Scully was finally able to struggle up to a sitting position, her
partner still on the floor, but now sitting beside her, to see her boss
standing just inside the connecting door and the agent who'd been
standing guard still at the front door. The agent by the door was
fighting hard not to smirk too broadly. Skinner merely had one
eyebrow raised. Then said flatly, "Agents?"
Scully looked back to her partner and punched him in the arm, then
muttered, "Asshole." His laughter followed her into the other room.
But just before she passed Skinner she turned back to her partner and
said, "You can just drag your sorry ass up off the floor on your own,
Mulder."
She winked at her boss as she passed by and entered Mulder's room.
It was good to hear her partner's laughter, even if it was at her
expense. She certainly didn't seem to hear it very often. Especially
this past year. But maybe things were looking up.
*******************************************
Skinner didn't know why his agents were lying on the floor together,
but knew enough to appreciate there was a joke there somewhere. He
smiled at Mulder's laughter. Smiled even more at Scully's obviously
affected anger. The wink had caught him by surprise, but he managed
a nod to her. Glanced over at the agent by the door, back to see Scully
was gone, then headed to his other agent.
Despite the laughter, it was apparent that the man was thinking hard
about actually getting up. Mulder looked up at him, still smiling. He
reached a hand down to his agent and said, "Need a hand, Agent
Mulder?" The younger man grinned slightly, glanced down at himself
as if assessing the situation, then said, "Actually, I think I do. Thanks,
sir."
Skinner helped pull his agent upright, then watched as Mulder slowly
stretched his arms out in front of him. Then rubbed at his shoulders,
first the right, then the left. Skinner waited him out, then said, "Why
don't you get cleaned up. We need to talk."
His agent turned serious in a heartbeat. Mulder expelled his breath
heavily, dropped his arms, and replied, "Yes, sir. Give me five
minutes."
Skinner nodded and turned, then said over his shoulder, "I'll give you
ten, Mulder."
*******************************************
Monday, 11:07 a.m.
Richmond Bureau, Command Center
They were all back in suits, the role of consummate Bureau
professionals being played to the hilt. Rick, Skinner, Scully, and Rand
sat dispersed about the room. Mulder stood in front of his wall,
explaining the known links to date, but adding that they still had to go
through quite a few stacks. He turned to face the others in the room.
"As I see it, we have several streams of inquiry we need to pursue
simultaneously. I think that with all that's happened, we can be
reasonably sure now that the robotic sensing and diagnostic system
was somehow responsible for the explosion in Hampton. I realize that
we don't have hard evidence to that effect, but ...."
Mulder paused for a moment, licked his lips, then realized it would be
safe to say in this crowd. "The thing is I just know it is." He waited
for the scoffs, waited for the scorn. There was none. Only nods of
acceptance. He breathed a bit easier and then continued.
"So, if we accept this, then we still need to understand exactly what it
is about the system that could cause such an explosion. That's one
stream. How does the system work?"
Mulder took a step forward to glance at a pad of paper lying on the
table. He didn't really need to see the notes there, but the move was an
effective delaying tactic that allowed him to order his thoughts before
voicing them.
"Stream two has to do with the involvement in Burgos in all this. We
know the man was somehow involved in the research behind the
system. Either directly or through funneling funds into one or more
universities and even, perhaps, private concerns. He knows
something. He might even know the answer to our first question -
how does the system work. So we have to find him. Before anyone
else does. That's number two."
He nodded and stepped back again, panned his gaze around the room,
crossed his arms over his chest. "Third has to do with the Jeffries
connection. We have to find out everything we can about this place.
Everything, right down to the name of the newest maintenance man.
Most importantly, is it just a government front and if so, for which
agency and why?"
The other agents were still with him, nodding in all the right places.
Taking notes. He glanced over at his partner and was pleased to see
that she was smiling at him in encouragement. He smiled slightly, one
side of his mouth crooking just a bit, then went on.
"Lastly, the power plant. This is more difficult. We can't just rush in
there. We might end up triggering something ourselves. We have to
find out what's happening there. Find out whether they have a similar
system to the one in Hampton. And we need to do this fast, but
carefully. Quietly."
Mulder considered everything, looking back to his wall. He needed to
start adding to it. He had a feeling there was a whole hell of a lot more
to learn in those stacks. He sighed and turned back to the agents.
Time to wrap this up.
"There are plenty of other issues of course, but I think they'll fall under
one of the four streams I've already outlined."
Mulder realized he was at the end of his presentation, looked around,
then pulled a chair out and sank into it. He glanced at his watch,
wondering how much longer until lunch. He'd never even gotten
breakfast after all. Soon. He hoped. Then he looked across the table
to focus on his boss.
Skinner said, "Agent Mulder, thank you for your summary. Does
anyone have anything to add?"
The man waited for a moment, searched faces, then turned back to
Mulder.
"What do you recommend now? First step?"
Mulder nodded, resisted the urge to say 'let's eat', and looked down at
his pad. "I'll take Burgos, Scully takes the system. Rand can tackle
Jeffries. AD Skinner and Rick, you guys take the power plant. We
confer as necessary and three times a day as a group, regardless. After
lunch, evening, morning. But we share as soon as reasonable."
He turned to the NSA agent then and said, "And lose the God damned
bugs, Rand, or you're out of it and on your own."
The man looked insulted briefly, but recovered quickly. "No prob,
Spooks."
Mulder rolled his eyes, shook his head in disgust, then turned back to
his boss, waiting for a response.
Skinner pushed away from the table and stood, then leaned forward
over it. "It sounds like a plan to me." He glanced at his watch, then
turned to Rick. "Why don't we have lunch brought in? We can
discuss what we want to do to get started."
Rick nodded and Mulder leaned towards his partner and whispered,
"Now that sounds like a plan. I'm starving."
*******************************************
A short twenty minutes later, Scully was unwrapping a turkey
sandwich when she noticed her partner had practically already finished
whatever it was he'd grabbed. Not completely done with the sub in his
hand, she saw that he was looking around the table, evidently
searching for extras. And then it dawned on her and she practically lost
her own appetite, consumed with guilt.
"Jesus, Mulder, we forgot to feed you this morning."
Her partner froze for a heartbeat, then turned to her, finished chewing
and swallowed noisily, fighting off a fake cough. He was smiling
when he said, "What am I, Scully, a cat? A dog? Forgot to FEED me
this morning? Jeez."
Scully was flustered. She truly felt horrible. After the night he'd had,
with very little sleep, and then to be awakened, somewhat rudely she
had to admit, told to be dressed and ready in ten minutes, thrown into
yet another car, although not in the trunk this time, and then dragged
straight to work. What the hell kind of a partner was she? What kind
of friend?
He must have understood the affect the realization had had on her
because he leaned over a bit, to bump her right shoulder with his left,
and said, "No sweat, Scully. I just woke up a couple hours ago, after
all. Forget it."
Scully bit her lip lightly, recognizing that it was best to drop it. But not
until she laid half of her still uneaten sandwich in front of him. Then
shot him her most convincing 'shut up, don't argue with me' look.
And it worked. He merely smiled a bit more broadly, picked it up and
started munching happily. She'd never understand the man. But, hell,
it certainly did make life interesting.
*******************************************
Skinner and Rick were set. They'd hashed out details over lunch and
had developed a plan of attack that should allow circumspect
investigation that wouldn't trigger any panic attacks on the part of those
involved. But before they headed off, he needed to talk with Mulder,
one on one. He sent Rick off to get started and told the man he'd be
along soon. Then he looked down to the far end of the table. His
agents were speaking softly to one another and he couldn't catch the
topic. Actually, they looked relaxed. Seemed to be enjoying lunch and
he was loathe to interrupt them.
He took the time to look at them closely. Scully looked good. Better
all the time, in fact. Seeing her after that damned bridge incident had
scared the crap out of him. He'd immediately flashed back to images
of her wasting away from cancer, on death's doorstep. And knew that
as bad as it had been for him, it had to have been a hundred times
worse for Mulder. But she looked good. Fit. Healthy. Ready to kick
butt and take no prisoners. The small cut on her head from a few days
before was practically gone and obviously not bothering her. He
looked over to her partner then.
Mulder still looked tired. That was to be expected. Even though the
man had probably gotten more sleep than anyone else in the room, it
still wouldn't have been enough to overcome the trauma of the previous
night. But other than that, he looked good, too. Skinner had seen his
agent smile more the past few days than he had the entire year before.
He realized it wasn't really this easy. Understood that his agent had
quite a bit to still work through. But he was pretty damned sure the
man had made some major breakthroughs. He certainly hoped he was
reading the situation correctly. For both his agents sakes.
He glanced at his watch and decided he couldn't delay any longer, then
pushed away from the table and stood, heading to the other end of the
room. He stopped to the side of Mulder and leaned down, so he could
speak with some small degree of privacy with his agents.
"Mulder, I need to touch base with you on something, if you don't
mind. In private."
Mulder looked surprised -- glanced over to his partner. But Skinner
leaned in even closer and said in a low voice, "Scully, I'd like you to
stay here and keep an eye on our visitor, if you don't mind."
Comprehension dawned on both faces and the nods confirmed their
understanding. He pushed himself upright and headed for the door,
nodding to the NSA agent on the way out. He knew Mulder was close
behind and heard his agent say, "Hey, Rand, I'll be right back. Then
we can get you set up to do some actual work for a change."
A good-natured snort was the only response as they headed out of the
conference room and down the hall, one of the two agents who'd been
at the door, tagging along behind. Skinner barely even noticed the
man.
They headed down to an office that Rick had leant him and pushed
open the door, gesturing for his agent to enter before him. He watched
as Mulder glanced around in curiosity and then sank into the only extra
chair, besides the one behind the desk. Skinner moved to the front of
the desk and leaned against it, arms crossed in front of him.
He looked at the floor for a moment, trying to decide how to best
broach the subject, and then decided the direct route was probably best.
He looked back to his agent to see the man staring at him with
curiosity. At least there wasn't the guilt or resignation he'd seen so
often in the past weeks.
"Agent Mulder, tell me about this NSA agent. Explain to me why I --
why we -- should trust him."
He could see by the wry grin that his agent understood his confusion.
Understood what was not being said. Explain to me why you trust this
man when your own motto is' Trust No One'.
Mulder smiled up at him, seeming to be lost in a fond memory. Then
said, "I've known him a long time, sir. He saved my butt once when I
was just starting out. Literally saved me, at great risk to himself. He's
crude and rude, obnoxious and sometimes nauseating, but ...."
Mulder was nodding his head now. "He's a good man and a good
agent. He wouldn't lie about this, sir. I know it."
It was enough for him. Skinner nodded in acceptance and said, "Okay,
Agent Mulder. I trust your judgment. Find out what he needs to
operate out of this office, then let me or Rick know. I'll be in Rick's
office."
He stood then, pushing himself away from the desk easily. Mulder
stood as well and headed for the desk but stopped at his boss' voice.
Turned to face him.
"By the way, Mulder, I never got the chance to talk with you last night.
Good work and .... I'm sorry I wasn't there when I was supposed to
be. It would have saved you some grief."
He raised a hand, sensing the impending objection, and continued.
"And Mulder, you did great getting out of a pretty sticky situation."
Mulder must have been getting a bit more used to hearing praise
because he didn't flush nearly as much as he had the last time. The
younger man looked down at his feet for a second, then raised his head
and nodded to his boss. Smiled a bit self-consciously and said simply,
as he had before, "Thank you, sir." Then left. But Skinner could see
the glimmer in the younger man's eyes. The look of satisfaction that
painted his features. About damned time he saw that look on his
agent's face. He'd been looking for it for a good, long while.
Skinner smiled to himself, feeling better than he had in ages, and left
the small office. Headed down the hallway where Rick was most
likely already getting things in motion.
*******************************************
Hours had passed and Scully was starting to think she'd never get
anywhere when she had a breakthrough. She wasn't sure. Not yet.
But it certainly seemed plausible. Perhaps. Time to do that sharing
thing her partner had talked about. She looked up from the report in
her hands and looked down to the other end of the table. Mulder was
absorbed in the stacks of files sitting in front of him. Skinner and Rick
were in Rick's office and Rand was in the office Skinner had been
using. She and Mulder were alone in the room, although she knew
two guards stood watch outside the door. A ridiculous waste of
manpower in her opinion, but she understood the reason. Partly to
keep anyone from getting in, but mostly to keep inattentive agents from
wandering away unescorted, a la Mulder. She sighed and glanced back
down at the report, then decided she definitely needed a second
opinion.
"Hey, Mulder."
He tore his gaze up from the file, and focused on her face slowly.
"Yeah?"
"I have a theory about how all this might fit together. But I need a
second opinion."
Her partner nodded and stood, walking quickly to her end. He pulled
out the chair next to her and flopped into it, saying "Hit me, Scully."
She grinned at the phrase. "Don't tempt me, Mulder."
He 'ha, ha'd' at her, then jerked his head in a 'go on and give it to me'
gesture. She glanced back down then took a deep breath.
"Okay, here's what I think might have happened. Burgos was a
brilliant math student and an engineering professor at Iowa State knew
enough to recognize that he had talents that could be applied in
engineering."
Mulder nodded, said, "Cartaugh."
"That's right. So Cartaugh steals Burgos away and gets him started on
this research project, sends him off to NASA, then arranges for Burgos
to go to Stanford, full assistantship and tuition waver. We know
there's some tie-in between NASA and DARPA during his Ph.D. It
could be that the right people were already watching him even during
his B.S. and helped to orchestrate his education, making sure he
worked with the right people on the right projects."
Her partner nodded to her in encouragement and said, "That's my
opinion as well." She went on, feeling bolstered by his validation.
"Anyway, he was funded out of DoD funds for his M.S., but my
guess is these agencies were already exchanging funds and laundering
money to fund his projects."
Mulder nodded again, but said nothing.
"The reason I bring it up is because I think the missing years must have
involved his putting everything together, maybe trying to work on a
prototype of his own, for some unnamed agency, but perhaps for all of
them. But, he discovered he was missing some crucial piece. That
there was something that was needed that he couldn't come up with or
that would take too long for him, starting from scratch. So instead, he
looks around the country and finds a research team who's already
working in similar areas or could move to the area he wanted very
easily. And somehow plants the idea, then funds them out of DARPA
money."
Mulder sat up straight and looked up at the ceiling for a minute, then
started nodding his head enthusiastically. "Excellent, Scully. I hadn't
fit that together. It sounds right. He moves from agency to agency,
getting the pieces he needs for his project, or the project of the still
unknown secret government agency funding him -- tries to get it to
work, needs more, goes to yet another agency in a position where he'd
be able to pick and choose who to fund."
He continued to stare at her for a moment and Scully could just about
swear it was in pride.
"So here's why I think it's important. I started ..." She paused,
embarrassed suddenly, bit her lower lip, then plunged ahead. Hell,
suspension of belief was a requirement with the X-Files team, after all.
"I, um, started profiling the system. You know. Starting with what it
was supposed to have done during the explosion. What it would have
had to have been able to do in order to cause the explosion. Then, I
assumed that the research areas that Burgos himself had been involved
in were pertinent in the development of the actual prototype, in addition
to that research conducted by Samuels and her team. I added a couple
of other emerging areas that have just been publicized as being related
to the field, or at least, areas that have the potential to add further
capability to the system, pertaining to the requirements for the
explosion. And I sort of drew up a profile of what the system might
look like."
Okay, now she was really getting nervous. Mulder was staring at her,
unblinking, mouth slightly open, breath coming a bit faster than
normal.
"Mulder?"
He jerked a bit and sort of shook himself. Then grinned and said,
"Sorry, Scully. I just love it when you talk dirty to me."
Scully felt her shoulders drop in frustration. She let out a pent up
breath and looked him in the eye. "Can you be serious for a minute,
Mulder?"
Her partner looked down at his watch, then back up at her, a poster-
boy of innocence and virtue. She couldn't stay perturbed with him.
Not with weapons like that. She saw him turn a bit more serious then
and he said, "So give me the profile. Tell me what you think at this
point."
Scully took a deep breath, picked up the pen she'd been using earlier
and started playing with it. She needed to keep her hands busy. She
looked over to her partner and explained.
"The thing that ties all these research areas together is the fact that they
all have to do with emulating, in some fashion, biological systems.
The Artificial Neural Networks, the Fuzzy Logic, the Genetic
Algorithms, the robotic Diagnostic System programmed with
autonomous features. Now, if a robot were truly to have some degree
of autonomy, then there would have to be something akin to a brain to
allow it to make judgments and decisions based on sensory input. For
example, it senses that the temperature in a pipe is too hot, it recognizes
this is not correct, decides it has to take corrective action, then
determines what action to take, and ultimately applies that action."
Mulder had dropped his head to look down at the table, but she could
tell he was following by the nod of his head.
"The mechanism by which it makes these decisions and judgments,
must be complex enough to take in a huge number of factors. It's not a
simple, 'if it's raining, use an umbrella' situation. It's more like, 'if
it's raining, decide how hard it's raining, then figure out whether it's
going to stop any time soon, then figure out what it's likely to do the
rest of the day, decide while you're at it what your choices of clothes
are, the possible routes you might want to take to get to work and later
to the store', and on and on. Then, given all these different
possibilities at these tens and hundreds even of different levels, decide
the very best trade-off that will tell you to 'wear your work out clothes,
carry your work clothes in a waterproof bag and ride your bike,
because it'll be clear in an hour and you'll have a nice bike ride later in
the day.'"
Mulder was looking at her again, a bit confused and said, "I think I
understand. It's the stereotypical 'how do you catch a ball' question.
Your mind is actually doing all sorts of calculations to decide where
your body should be, where your hands should be, then sending the
right signals to those body parts so that the body will be in the right
place at the right time to catch the ball."
He waited for Scully's nod, then asked, "So are you saying this can be
done? I mean, it took almost a roomful of computers working in
parallel processing mode to beat a Grand Master of Chess two out of
three games. It seems to be a similar kind of application. Faced with
almost infinite possibilities pertaining to any particular chess move,
pick the best one that will eventually lead to a win. So did the
Hampton plant have rooms full of computers that acted as the brain
matter for this robotic system?"
Scully smiled a bit and reminded herself that despite the fact that her
partner didn't have a formal scientific background, he was neither
stupid nor uninformed. He certainly grasped the sticky point almost
immediately.
"No, they didn't. But Big Blue used thousands of IBM processors,
linked with relatively traditional network protocols for communication.
This new system, the robotic diagnostic and sensing system -- I would
bet anything it made use of something brand new called programmable
hardware. Some of the developments in this area, the first
developments actually, were by researchers who were funded out of
DARPA, DoD, and even NASA."
Scully picked up one of the reports the DC analysts had sent her on the
subject and moved it closer to her partner. She pointed to a couple of
the names listed, and then moved to where the authors had listed
acknowledgments for support. Her partner nodded and breathed
deeply, obviously trying to absorb it all. Scully went on.
"Okay, here's the deal with this programmable hardware. The idea is
that a computer chip can start out with hundreds upon thousands of
possible connection paths on which the information can travel. Then, a
GA, a Genetic Algorithm, is used to decide what paths should actually
be used in the final design. And what happens, essentially, is that the
chip designs itself over time to be most efficient for the desired task."
Mulder shook his head at this, sort of raised his hands in the air a little.
His forehead was scrunched in concentration and his lips were pursed.
Scully decided to try an example.
"Okay, let's say we have four points along a row and four along a
column, giving us a total of sixteen points, arranged something like
this." Scully pulled a pad to her and started drawing.
x1 x2 x3 x4
x5 x6 x7 x8
x9 x10 x11 x12
x13 x14 x15 x16
He nodded understanding. So far, so good.
"Now, let's say that what we want it to design the biggest box possible
using these points. We know that we'd want to connect points 1
through 4, then 8, 12, 16, 15, 14, 13, 9, 5, and back to 1. That'll give
us a box."
He nodded again, quickly this time, obviously wanting her to get to the
point.
"All right, if we were to use a GA to design us a box, given these
possible points, or nodes, then we'd have all sorts of possible
connections that could exist. We could have something that connected
like this: 1-6-3-8-12-7-11-16-15-10-13-9-1. And that would be a
pretty horrendous box and would, as a result, have an extremely low
fitness function associated with it, while the final one we want would
have an extremely high fitness function value."
He was getting antsy now so she hurried on.
"So the way the GA would work is it would start out with maybe
twenty different possible designs for a box, generated randomly. And
each of these designs would have a fitness value. Then the best
members of this population would combine to create new designs, by
exchanging some of their design information. So then there will be an
entire new generation, and their overall fitness values, on average, will
be higher than the generation before. Eventually, we'll get to a point
where the design population of a generation just can't get any better and
it stops."
Mulder breathed heavily, shook his head, then turned to her. "I think I
understand. At least sort of. But I have no idea why all this might be
important to the case."
"Okay, sorry, Mulder. You see, if a GA is used to program a
computer chip, there are some problems associated with the process
that have been reported in prototype testing. For instance, the final
solution isn't mathematically provable -- GA's are known as heuristic
methods -- so there's no real way to say definitively that it's the optimal
or best solution. Also, in addition to the selection and crossover
operators, which are used to produce the new children, there's an
operator called mutation. And it's just what it sounds like. It allows
for the instantaneous change in a bit of information that describes the
design so that an all new one is created. And the degree of mutation
that's appropriate is generally just guessed at. And lastly, I'm assuming
that while the hardware in the robot has been programmed by a GA,
there are additional controlling algorithms that use ANN's and Fuzzy
Logic. So, there's a whole heck of a lot of guessing going on."
Mulder had his head bent slightly and had his left hand raised to his
face. He rubbed at his eyes lightly, then moved to his forehead, letting
his fingers stroke at the tension. He sighed and dropped his head, then
looked up at her, expression somewhat pained.
"Scully, how do you think this system actually worked?"
She stared at him for a moment, trying to gather her thoughts. She
knew her description was overly pedantic and she wanted to simplify
as much as possible.
"I think there were one or more robots inside the coldbox itself, that
were placed in high risk areas. I think each one had a programmable
hardware computer chip designed by a GA for its specific task. And
that the control mechanisms that allowed the robot to identify problems
and make corrections were based on ANN's and Fuzzy Logic. But I
believe that these robots were also connected, in some way, through a
high speed network, again using specialized protocols, to a larger
system, that probably had over-ride capabilities. And this larger
system was probably also the result of programmable hardware."
He was smiling at her now, expectantly, so she asked, "What? What is
it?"
He laughed out loud and asked, "Can I be there when you explain this
to Skinner?"
She had to smile at that as well. Her boss wasn't a stupid man, but got
easily frustrated with long-winded scientific explanations. Just the
facts, ma'am, for him.
Mulder was pensive now, playing with a pad of paper in front of him.
He said, "So you think that during this evolutionary design process,
something went wrong and a mutation occurred that led to a faulty
connection in the chip. And simultaneously, the controllers, which
used these ANN's might have also evolved imperfectly, so that when
the programmable hardware was used in conjunction with the
controllers, something went terribly wrong and the explosion was the
result."
Put that way, it did sound a bit .... well, incredible. She looked over
to her partner, somewhat chagrined, and said, "Yes, I think it's a real
possibility."
He was shaking his head, obviously wrestling with something.
"Doesn't wash, Scully. You make it sound like it was an accident.
But, with Handley murdered, Burgos on the run, people trying to kill
us, and with what we saw in the basement lab at Jeffries, it seems to
me someone's trying to cover up more than just an accident."
He was waiting for her opinion, but she had to think it through first.
There was definite merit to his statement.
"So you think the plant was supposed to blow and that the system was
designed in such a way so as to allow it to happen with no one the
wiser."
She sighed heavily at his nod. Considered what she'd just said. Then
asked, "For what purpose? The original team found absolutely no
evidence of sabotage, but more than that, they found no reason that
anyone would have sabotaged the plant. What purpose did the
explosion serve?"
Mulder pushed back from the table and stood, a pen in his hand now.
He was playing with it, twirling it in his fingers, from one hand to the
next. He wandered a bit, almost aimlessly, in a short pacing circuit,
evidently thinking about his answer. Then looked over to her.
"I think the Hampton plant was just a test. I doubt the company that
built the plant, Air Supply, knew anything other than they'd get paid to
install this state-of-the-art sensing system. But someone, connected to
this Jeffries in some way, was using the plant as ground zero. To see
whether they could cause an explosion and get away with it."
It felt right to Scully. As the implications set in, her breathing became a
bit faster. She turned to her partner and said, "And they almost did.
And now they've got it installed in a nuclear power plant."
He nodded, just slightly, frozen in spot temporarily.
Scully asked simply, "Why?"
He shook his head, shrugged his shoulders lightly. "I don't know.
Perhaps an experiment of some sort. To track the impact of nuclear
fallout on a civilian population. The government's done worse
before." She watched as he shook his head again, more violently this
time. Then he added, "We'll have to consider it. Try to figure it."
She could see the wheels turning already. And Scully realized then that
they needed to figure damned fast. Because somewhere out there, just
four or so hours away from them at that moment, there was one of
these systems in a nuclear power plant. And the countdown might
already have started.
*******************************************
Mulder wandered the halls, casting two shadows as he went. One of
the agents at the door had followed him as he stepped out -- no
discussion, no argument. After Scully had given him her idea of how
the system worked, he had tried to go back to understanding Burgos.
But he just couldn't concentrate.
All he could think about was those hundred plus people in Hampton
who'd died because they were considered by some nameless, faceless
entity to be unimportant. Thought of as being only worthy of guinea
pig status. And he could identify with that. Hell, if he believed that
Cigarette Smoking son-of-a-bitch, all he'd ever been was a tool for
someone else's agenda.
But deep down, if he were really honest with himself, he could admit
that even if it were true that he was nothing but a tool, he'd still made
worthwhile contributions along the way. Had actually helped people.
He and Scully both had. And that had to be worth something. Had to
count for something.
He shook his head and thought about the case once more. It was more
clear than ever now that they had to find Burgos. That man might be
the only one who really knew how the system worked and how it could
be disabled. But Mulder had no idea of how to go about tracking the
man just now. He needed a break.
He wandered down to the office he and Skinner had used earlier and
found Rand typing away at a computer, while simultaneously talking
on the speaker phone. The man nodded upon seeing him and waved at
the chair, then signed off with whoever he was talking to with a threat
of death and worse if the information weren't sent to him soon.
Mulder grinned at the NSA agent, thinking that the man hadn't seemed
to change much in all these years. "Hey, Rand, how goes it?"
"Shit for brains! I was just about to come looking for you. We gotta
talk."
Mulder couldn't be angry with the man. After all, he'd certainly earned
that title the first time they'd met. He'd been incredibly stupid and
Rand had saved his butt and his worthless life, to boot.
"Yeah? About what, exactly."
"What do you think? Jeffries, of course."
Mulder nodded, then looked down at his watch. "It's just about time
for our meeting. Can it wait? That way you'll only have to repeat
once."
Rand nodded, lips pursed, then adopted a thoughtful expression.
"Hey, Spooks, this partner of yours."
He was a bit surprised by the change in topic, but merely said, "Yeah?"
"She seems nice."
He stared at his old acquaintance and tried to figure out where this line
of questioning was headed.
"She is nice. Very nice."
"She single?"
Mulder felt his face start to redden a bit, but couldn't for the life of him
figure out why.
"Yes. Yes, she is."
Rand merely nodded, eyes intent on Mulder's face.
"She date much?"
He felt his jaw clench in response to that one. Shifted a bit in the chair.
"You'll just have to ask her about that. It's not really any of my
business. I'm her partner, not her keeper."
The NSA agent smiled. Nodded. Smiled a bit broader. "I can see
that."
He realized then that he'd been clamping the chair arms a bit too tightly.
Willed his fingers to release a bit. For his body to relax. What was the
big deal, after all? Rand was a good guy. Scully could certainly do
worse. And then the other man was standing.
"Come on, Spooks. Let's go to the meeting."
*******************************************
Monday, 7:02 p.m.
Richmond Bureau, Command Center
Skinner entered the room, Rick right behind him. His agents and the
NSA asshole were already there, to the left, sitting at one end of the
table in a cluster. Scully sat at the end of the table, with Mulder to her
left and Rand to her right. She and Rand seemed to be joking about
something, laughing softly, while Mulder basically sat staring at them,
not appearing really to be joining in the conversation. Skinner smiled.
His agent was a big boy. The man would either figure it out or not.
Skinner was betting on the former.
"Agents, why don't we get started? Rick ordered something to be
brought in for dinner. It should be here soon."
He waved Rick to sit next to the NSA agent and he went around the
table to take a seat by Mulder. Scully had started to stand, to allow him
the end seat, but he waved her back down.
"I'm not sure if there's a best order here. I think Rick and I will go
last, though. So, who's up first?"
He sensed Mulder's jerk to his right so turned to the man. "Agent
Mulder?"
His agent nodded, then said, "I've been plowing through the rest of the
reports we'd received and completing the matrix of interactions. I can
show you later. The specifics aren't important now. Let's just say,
though, that it's definite now that Burgos' education was orchestrated
and funded by a group of agencies who were most likely working
together in order to ultimately get the system
they wanted."
His agent shook his head a bit, then said, "Burgos has been a tool
almost from the beginning. And I'm not sure he even realizes it."
Skinner understood the tragedy. Appreciated that Mulder would feel
empathy for the engineer.
Mulder waved down at the paper in front of him and said, "Anyway,
I've been trying to figure out where Burgos would go. What he'll do
next. I have a few possibilities here, based on his past. But, for some
reason, I can't help thinking he'll try to make contact again. He knows
he'll never survive on his own. He has to have protection of some
sort. He might trust me enough to allow me to arrange it. So I need to
figure a way to allow him to make contact, safely. I've started working
on it and should have some possibilities later this evening. I need to
understand him."
Mulder sort of stumbled to a stop on the last sentence, then seemed to
realize he'd started to drift. He sat up straighter and continued. "One
way or the other, though, we have to find him. He knows the system.
He can possibly disarm it."
Skinner was surprised by the phrase his agent had used and saw by the
raised eyebrows of Rick and the NSA twit that they were surprised as
well. Scully didn't bat an eye. He turned to Mulder and asked,
"Disarm?"
His agent nodded and turned to look at his partner, then looked around
the table at the other agents in the room. "Scully can explain it. She's
pretty much figured out how the system works and how all this
different research fits in." Mulder nodded to his partner then,
encouraging her to explain.
Skinner shifted in his seat, propped his left elbow on the table and
rested his chin on it. He had a feeling this was going to be good.
Scully looked down at her pad of paper, tapped her pen against it, then
looked up and launched into it.
"I'm not going to go into all the details now on how the research was
developed and applied. I'll just skip to how I believe the system
worked. I believe the robotic system's hardware was designed through
something like an evolutionary process and Mulder and I think that a
flaw may have been intentionally designed into it -- a mutation. And
that the control system, which was also designed using evolutionary
processes, also had flaws introduced. Perhaps if anyone had
discovered one flaw, independent of the other, they would have
thought nothing of it. But because the controller interfaced with the
programmable hardware, these flaws operated in tandem to cause the
explosion."
He looked at his agent for a moment, sure about one thing she'd just
said. "The flaws were introduced? Intentionally?"
Scully nodded, glanced over at her partner, then confirmed it. "Yes,
sir. We believe this was done intentionally to actually cause the
explosion. Mulder has hypothesized, and I agree, that the Hampton
explosion was a test of the system. They probably thought they'd
gotten away with it and were already moving on to phase two when we
entered the picture."
Skinner glanced over to Rick, knowing that their own discoveries this
morning were now going to take on a different meaning based on this
information. He turned to the right slightly so that he could see both
his agents more easily.
"Do you have any idea why someone would want to cause an
explosion of a nuclear power plant? And have the cause appear to be
accidental?"
His agents exchanged glances and some sort of communication must
have passed, because this time, Mulder answered.
"We're developing a few possible scenarios. The most obvious, in my
opinion, is that someone is interested in observing the impact of the
fallout on civilians."
"For what purpose?"
His agent smiled wryly, then shook his head. Played with the pen for
a short moment before raising his head and saying, "Could be
anything. Government testing. Maybe."
Skinner tried to remove all incredulity from his voice when he asked,
"Government?"
Mulder looked a bit chagrined, then said, "I know, it sounds paranoid.
But this research was funded by various government and federal
agencies from the very beginning, dating back to the seventies. And
we're not talking about insignificant amounts of money here. This
wasn't an inexpensive project. And besides, who the hell else would
have a motivation for blowing up a nuclear power plant and make it
look like an accident so no fingers would be pointed?"
His agent had adopted that stubborn expression he'd come to
recognize. He considered Mulder's words carefully, glanced around
the room, then said, "I see your point, Mulder. But I still don't want to
jump to any conclusions too early. There's too much at stake here."
His agent nodded, apparently having no objections to the comment.
He looked across to Mr. NSA then and decided to leave his and Rick's
comments until last. "Rand, perhaps you could tell us whether you've
had any luck with Jeffries."
The man had his mouth open, ready to start, when a knock at the door
caused everyone to jerk. Rick opened it, then waved the young man at
the door in. The smell of Chinese food wafted in and permeated the
air. Skinner heard a muffled comment to his right. "It's about time."
Then an even more muffled, "Hush."
Five minutes later, food in hand, the NSA agent started once more.
"Okay, basically, Jeffries is a mystery still. But we know definitely
it's a front for something or someone. We just can't track that
important 'who' down just yet. All money transfers occur through
multiple layers. We have yet to actually find a start point for any
transaction ending with Jeffries or an end point for any transfer they've
initiated."
The man adopted an evil grin. "It's driving our money guys crazy.
Whoever did it is good. Very good. Definitely knows all the tricks
and has used them well. Very well."
The man laughed out loud, a short, harsh laugh, evidently pleased that
some of his peers were so miserable, then said, "Anyway, we've got
info on the President, CEO, various Vice Presidents, administrative
boards. Somehow, I don't think any of them are really important.
We're trying to get background on the Chief Scientist and his staff."
Skinner saw both Mulder and Scully nodding to his right, evidently
agreeing with the assumption that the obvious administrative body
wasn't important here.
"One of the reasons we think we're on the right track is that we can't
find hardly anything on these people. They have names, but no
histories beyond about six or seven years ago. They appeared from
nowhere."
Skinner snorted a bit at that. Heard other sounds of disgust from
around the table.
"So, I have my people concentrating on money and these scientists.
Engineers. Whatever. Either way, whichever breaks first, I figure
we'll be able to get to the source. Worst case scenario, if it becomes
absolutely crucial, we pick these guys up and interrogate."
No evil grin now. Just dead seriousness. Skinner cleared his throat,
then said, "Okay, let's move on. Rick and I have had an interesting
day. Rick, why don't you fill everyone in?"
The acting SAC nodded, slowly, having to pull his gaze away from the
NSA agent. Rick seemed to be having some problems with the man's
comment.
"Well, first off, we've been able to confirm that the plant has a high-
tech sensing system that was installed approximately two weeks ago.
That places it at being installed just before the investigation here was
coming to a close. And even then, it was pretty much known what the
end result was going to be. Our guess is that these people knew they
were in the clear, their first test was a success, so they went ahead to
install number two."
Rick glanced down at his pages of notes, ran one finger down the
page, then looked up again. "The system's been operational now for
approximately a week. We haven't been able to confirm exactly.
We've been keeping questioning innocent. Using intermediaries
whenever possible. We don't want to set off any alarms, obviously."
Rick looked at each agent and then added, "The Hampton plant had
been on-line for months with no problems. Maybe we're okay, here."
Skinner saw his agents exchange glances next to him and raised one
hand to stop Rick for a moment.
"Mulder, Scully? You have a different interpretation?"
Hurriedly exchanged glances again. This time, Scully answered.
"Sir, I think we should assume no such thing. First of all, the system
will be different, programmed for different tasks, and will therefore
have different control algorithms. Secondly, we still don't know the
exact nature of any defects that might have been programmed and
hardwired into the system. It could be that there is some sort of
triggering event which then causes a chain reaction that leads to ultimate
failure, and then explosion. We just don't know enough."
Rick seemed disappointed. The man had evidently convinced himself
they'd have months at least before catastrophe could hit. Skinner
nodded to his agent, then turned back to Rick.
"Okay, then. We assume nothing with regards to when an explosion
might occur. We only assume that it could happen any time. Plan for
the worse, hope for the best. Right?"
Nods all around. Pensive looks.
Rick continued then, saying, "We've managed to trace the new system
to Jeffries No question they're involved. Plant personnel seem to be
exactly what they are. No artifice. The manager could be another
Handley, in fact. Bright, earnest, well-liked."
The agent paused then, took a deep breath, then said, "Estimated fall-
out in the event of an explosion would be something on the order of ten
thousand deaths in the first minutes, many more thousands over the
following weeks and months. The only good thing about the entire
situation is that it is remotely located. Only a few smallish cities and
towns close by."
The man sighed again. Shifted in his seat slightly. Looked around the
table.
"We already have people investigating best course of action for rapid
evacuation. Walt's been quietly working to have the National Guard
ready, just in case. Various transport mechanisms are being readied."
Skinner saw that Rick was looking at him, eyebrows raised, and
decided to jump in quickly.
"That's right. And I've spoken with the Director. He's standing by.
We've agreed that until we can better determine whether other agencies
are involved that this is to be kept close to the vest. We can not afford
to allow those responsible know we're onto them."
They understood. He knew they would. He nodded again to Rick to
continue.
"Final details. We're working hard to get hold of the plant schematics,
along with information on placement of any components pertaining to
the robotic sensing and correction system. It's tricky, as you can
imagine. Unfortunately, we can't just ask. We're hoping to have
something in hand by tomorrow."
The man looked down at his notes, scanning the page, then back to the
AD. Skinner said, "Thanks, Rick." He surveyed the faces around the
table and asked, "Any questions? Comments?" Head shakes from
every corner. "Okay. As I see it, we need the answers to a couple
questions pretty much immediately. Where is Burgos and what does
he know? Does this system have a trigger and can we determine when
this thing is set to go? Who's responsible for this and why?"
Mulder's voice surfaced from his right then. "Burgos is the key to
everything. We find him, we find all our answers."
He nodded to his agent in agreement. Mulder was right. They needed
Burgos. And Mulder was their only chance at finding him.
*******************************************
Monday, 9:53 p.m.
Richmond Bureau, Command Center
Skinner had sent Rick home ten minutes before, and had just left Rand,
where he'd convinced the man to go to the hotel. He was now on the
way to drag his agents back as well. He nodded to the two agents at
watch, then knocked lightly, and swung the door open. Scully was
still in the same seat towards the left, at the end of the table. His other
agent stood four feet away from his wall, just staring. Scully looked
up at him as he entered the room, but Mulder never budged.
He nodded to Scully, pulled out a chair not far from her, and sank into
it, grateful to be off his feet. Scully looked tired. Of course, she had a
right to be. None of them had gotten much sleep the night before. He
looked down to the other side of the room then to see what Mulder was
up to. The man still hadn't moved a muscle, as far as he could
determine. His agent had shed his jacket, had his tie loosened, a
couple buttons at the neck unfastened, and had sleeves rolled up to
elbows. The man stood with legs spread about shoulder width, hands
on hips, head tilted a bit to the right.
Skinner continued to watch, fascinated almost with the intensity
emanating from the man. He turned his head then, remembering
Scully, to see that she was also staring at her partner. She must have
noticed him because she turned away to meet his eyes, then said, "If
you need to speak with him, your best bet is to go kick him in the
shins. I've found it very effective."
Scully continued to surprise him. He laughed at her words. They'd
been spoken with such seriousness, but he noticed the little tremble at
one corner of her mouth.
"That's all right, Agent Scully. I don't need to speak with him. But I
was thinking that perhaps it would be wise to call it a night. We need
to be sharp tomorrow and I think we're all tired."
Scully nodded agreement, and as if his words induced a psychological
reaction, he saw her raise one hand to stifle a yawn. "Um. Sorry, sir.
Guess I am a bit tired."
He turned back to the other side of the room and was almost shocked to
see Mulder move. For some reason, he'd assumed the man would
stand like a statue until such time the words 'Eureka' would spew from
his mouth in a mighty yell. He smiled to himself at the thought, and
watched as his agent shifted his stance minutely, then wrapped his left
arm around his ribs, rested his right elbow on the left arm, and rested
chin on upraised right fist. The statue reemerged. Except for the
man's right forefinger, which occasionally twitched across his lips.
He looked down at his watch and decided it was time. He pushed
himself up again and walked to the other end of the room, approaching
his agent from behind. He moved next to the man, to his left, and
stared at the wall of cards and string that criss-crossed from one side to
the other. It looked like a spider's web. Well, a web created by a
drunk spider perhaps. He tried to see what Mulder was seeing, but
kept coming back to the phrase 'a mess'. But of course, that's what
his agent was good at. Taking what appeared to be unrelated, diverse,
and disparate data and creating a working hypothesis that somehow
made sense.
He shook his head as he looked at the primary cards and then all the
others his agent had added since that first day. This man Burgos had
few secrets anymore. His life was plotted out for all to see. But
perhaps only Mulder could understand.
He turned to face his agent full on then, hoping the movement would
cause the man to turn. No such luck. Mulder's eyes roamed the wall
in front of him. So Skinner reached out with his right hand and rested
it on his agent's shoulder, saying the man's name simultaneously,
"Mulder."
His agent moved finally, but slowly, languidly. Turning his head to
the left, finally enough to rest his gaze on his boss. But Skinner
wasn't sure if anything was actually registering. "Mulder?"
He watched as the man's eyes finally focused on him, then started to
blink rapidly. His agent's face flushed then, and Skinner dropped his
hand, knowing that his agent was finally aware of who stood next to
him.
"Sorry, sir. I was .... "
He shook his head at his agent and inserted quickly, "Agent Mulder, no
need to apologize to me. I'm sorry for disturbing you, but it's now
well after ten and I think it's time we head back to the hotel."
He saw the objections forming, saw the mind working to figure out
what argument would work best, and headed it all off at the pass.
"Neither Agent Scully nor I got much sleep last night. We're both
exhausted. And I know that you must be tired as well."
He felt mildly guilty at using Scully's name in this way, but knew it
would be effective. And he doubted she'd mind. Mulder's eyes flew
to the other end of the room to search out his partner's form. Skinner
looked as well and was surprised to see her slouched over the table
with her head resting on folded arms. She was either helping Skinner
to convince her partner or had truly lost the fight to stay awake. Either
way, it solidified his case.
The man next to him took one last look at the wall in front of him,
almost in longing, then turned to gather some items that were spread
across the table. Mulder looked up to him and said, "I'll be ready in
just a moment sir."
He looked down towards the other end of the table again and decided
that Scully really was asleep. Well, he'd leave her partner to wake her.
"I'll be right outside the door, Mulder."
His agent nodded in appreciation, and the quick glance the man shot
towards the far end of the room was not missed.
Skinner stood outside the door, stuffed briefcase on the floor at his
feet. God, he was so tired. In between phone calls and meetings
pertaining to this case, he'd been squeezing in phone calls back to the
office. At least the Director was a reasonable man, interested in getting
this case resolved safely and quickly. And the man recognized that it
was a priority. So his normal workload had effectively been
reassigned temporarily to the other AD's. That was a relief. Now he
just had to keep a nuclear power plant from blowing up and killing
thousands of innocent civilians. And then there was the small problem
of keeping his agents safe, even though men in black vehicles were
determined to kill them. Ah, a day in the life of an FBI AD.
He smiled and just then, the door opened to reveal his agents. Scully
came out first, Mulder right behind. Both looked exhausted. He
picked up his briefcase and said, "Agents, after you."
One of the guards moved to the front of the procession, then Mulder
and Scully waked side by side. He followed them with a second guard
bringing up the rear. He could hear the one behind arranging for cars
to be brought around. Then could hear the heads up to the hotel. At
least this was one thing he didn't have to worry about.
*******************************************
Walter Skinner was dreaming about work. It was a nice boring dream,
where all he had to do was sign off on cases, approve travel forms, and
tell agents they'd done a good job. But then someone was knocking at
the door. And in his dream, he yelled out to Kim to let them in, but she
didn't open it and they just kept knocking. And eventually, the
knocking got so loud that it was irritating. In fact, it was damned
irritating. Irritating enough that the dream wasn't so pleasant anymore,
and he woke up. Woke up to discover that there was still someone
knocking and then he understood what had happened.
"Hold on," he managed while grabbing for glasses. He looked to the
left where the clock glowed redly in the dark and saw that it was just
after three in the morning. Who the hell could be at the door? He
pushed himself out of bed and grabbed his jeans, pulling them on
quickly. The knocking had stopped at his yell, but it was back again.
He grabbed for a T-shirt and walked quickly to the door, yanking it
open, even as he was trying to pull the shirt over his head. Not his
most elegant move. Glasses threatened to go flying, forcing him to
grab for them awkwardly, while the shirt blocked his vision.
He finally managed to coordinate limbs sufficiently to pull the shirt
down without knocking his glasses off and was only mildly surprised
to see a dressed Mulder standing in front of him. The man had on
well-worn jeans, a Mets T-shirt, and running shoes, with his leather
jacket gripped tightly in his hands.
He sighed, shook his head. Who else could it have been, after all?
"Agent Mulder. Can I help you?"
His agent looked displeased. Was practically glowering in fact.
"Yes, sir. I would appreciate it if you will tell this guy to back off."
It was obvious that his agent was trying hard to suppress barely
restrained anger. And by the looks of it, so was the agent standing
guard behind him. He could see the guard's jaw grinding back and
forth. He looked back to Mulder, and couldn't help the frustrated sigh
that leaked out.
"What the hell are you talking about, Mulder?"
Mulder straightened, evidently realizing that busting in on your boss in
the middle of the night required at least a minimal show of respect.
"I'm sorry, sir. I'm sorry to have to bother you like this. But, I need
to go to the Bureau and this .... gentleman .... will not allow me to
leave the hotel. I don't care if he wants to tag along, but I need to go
there and I need to go now."
His agent dragged out the word 'allow' as if it were distasteful, which
it most likely was. He stared at Mulder closely. Took in the tense
posture, the intent look. "Mulder, why now? Why at three something
in the morning? Can't it wait?" He made sure his voice wasn't
judgmental in any way. He was truly curious now.
His agent seemed to tense even more as he replied. "No, sir. It can't
wait. I need to see the wall. I need .... "
The words trickled to a stop as his agent searched for the right words to
convince him. He nodded and raised his hand. "Give me a minute,
Mulder. Let me get some clothes on. And shoes. I'll come with you."
And then the man jerked a bit in surprise and said, "No. I mean, that's
not necessary, sir. I didn't mean to disturb you."
Skinner waved him off again and said, "Agent Mulder, I'll accompany
you. End of subject. Give me a minute, please." The man's
expression was equal parts guilt and relief. He moved back into his
room and grabbed socks and running shoes. Might as well go
comfortable. Then he headed into the bathroom. No time for shaving,
perhaps, but that toothbrush was calling out his name.
He grabbed a casual jacket, then his weapon and ID and headed for the
door again. A last glance at the glowing red numbers on the clock told
him it was 3:18 a.m. Oh, Joy. He swung it open and said, "Let's go."
He nodded at the guard, told the one outside Scully's door where they
were headed, jerked his head at Mulder, and took off. In the elevator,
he turned to the agent performing guard duty and said, "Bring the car to
the side entrance. We'll meet you there in five minutes." The man
nodded, glanced at Mulder, seemed to hesitate, then left them when the
doors opened.
Skinner and Mulder headed to the right, down a long hallway that
would eventually bring them to the outdoor pool and tennis courts.
Just before reaching the exit, Skinner turned to his agent and said,
"You know, the man's just doing his job, as he was told. I gave him
his instruction myself. you want to be mad at someone, be mad at
me."
Mulder was staring at his feet, then dragged his head up to look at his
boss. "Yes, sir. You're right. I was just caught by surprise. I'm not
used to being restrained like that. When Scully and I are on a case, it's
not unusual for me to go out at, well, awkward times."
"I understand, Mulder. Anyway, I think we're on. Let's go."
Fifteen minutes later, he sat watching Mulder stare at the wall. He
wasn't really sure what was being accomplished. Had no real idea
why this couldn't have been done back at the motel. After all, Mulder
had an eidetic memory, so he wasn't sure why the actual cards were
necessary. He also had no idea why it had to be done now, at three ...
He looked at his watch. 3:35 a.m. If he knew what his agent was
looking for, maybe he could help. But deep down, he knew that
Mulder probably didn't even know what he was looking for. But
would probably know it when he finally saw it.
The man was back to his earlier stance with left arm wrapped around
his chest tightly, hand gripping the material of his T-shirt. His other
arm propped on top with his right hand at his chin. His agent had not
moved for the past .... He checked his watch again .... seven minutes.
He moved the chair out, away from the table and turned it sideways.
Then pulled another out some three feet away. Put his feet up and
slouched into the chair as best as it would allow. Tried to get
comfortable. He should have brought his book. Files. Something.
He closed his eyes and dropped his head back. Not bad. He sighed
then, opened eyes briefly to see Mulder still hadn't moved, then closed
them once more. Not bad at all.
Some thirty minutes later, he was rudely awakened by a yell. Not
really a yell. More like a perturbed exclamation. He'd jerked up at the
abrupt sound, feet crashing to the floor. Opened his eyes wide to see
Mulder just a foot or so from the wall, staring closely at one or two
particular cards.
"What is it, Mulder?"
His agent turned to him then, eyes bright, a feral grin on his face.
"He's a smart guy, this Burgos. A computer genius, among other
things. He knows I can help him. He doesn't trust any of the people
he's been working with. He came here, to Richmond, and sought me
out. He knew what I looked like. Knew where to find me. How?
How did he know? How did he even know I was working the case?
He'd already run from DC by the time Scully and I left our messages at
his office."
Skinner shook his head, not sure where his agent was going and also
having no answers to the questions Mulder had posed. His agent
moved away from the wall, to the table. Pulled out a chair and sank
into it, as if suddenly incredibly weary. Hell, he probably was. The
man rubbed his face with both hands, then rested his arms on the table.
Looked at his boss.
"This guy's either got someone feeding him information, or he's
getting it the way Rand was. Which is definitely a possibility. Either
way, he knows something about what's going on. He's got to know
that we're looking for him. He's got to know he's a dead man if he
doesn't get help."
He nodded, encouraging his agent to continue. Mulder leaned forward
a bit, then propped his chin on raised fist.
"Okay, so since he knows about me, he'll probably be able to figure
that I'll have done an in-depth search on him. That I'd go back to
childhood even. And he'll know that I know every single place he's
ever lived. Every place he went to school and went to work."
Skinner nodded again.
"So, he'll want to meet someplace that isn't so obvious that the guys
chasing him will figure it out. We pick the place, somewhere he
knows well, and we get a message to him in such a way that he's the
only one who'll understand."
He'd followed the logic just fine, but this seemed like a bit of a leap.
Mulder made it sound as if it would be an easy thing to accomplish.
"Just how do we do that, Mulder? If we could get a message to him,
then that means we could get to him. If we can get to him, we don't
need to send a message."
Well, it was very late and he was tired. He knew it came out somewhat
garbled, but figured his agent would understand. Mulder evidently did
because he was nodding his head.
"There is a way, sir."
Suddenly Skinner felt incredibly suspicious. His agent had adopted a
grin with a look he could only describe as one of cunning intensity.
"Sir, didn't you say CNN's been after the Bureau to let them interview
me and Scully about the bridge incident?"
He cringed at the thought, sat back in his chair and gripped the arms.
Closed his eyes for just a moment. Jesus, let Mulder loose on CNN?
He wasn't sure the world could stand it. He wasn't sure he could
stand it.
*******************************************
Tuesday, 6:53 a.m.
Richmond, Marriot Hotel
There was knocking again. A pounding that seemed to coincide with
the pounding in his head. Skinner opened his eyes slowly and looked
to his left. Tried to focus on the red smear that he knew would reveal
the time to him if he could only look closely enough. He realized
finally that glasses would help and reached out for them, patting the top
of the bed stand until he found them finally. He put them on and
looked again. Jesus, he'd just gotten to bed again a little over an hour
ago. Didn't the man ever sleep?
He stumbled out of bed and headed to the door, then flung it open,
fully prepared to chew the man out. But it wasn't Mulder standing
there. It was Scully. And in an instant, her expression turned from
intense irritation to embarrassment. And then he realized he was in his
underwear and nothing else. And his agent wasn't the only one turning
red.
He hastily closed the door all the way except an inch and yelled out,
"One minute, Agent Scully." Grabbed the same jeans and T-shirt he'd
worn a few hours earlier, and pulled them on, cursing at himself the
entire time. He approached the door again, then hesitated for a
moment, wondering what the hell to say to his shocked female agent.
Hell, she could probably sue him. Or could he sue her? She was the
one pounding on his door, after all. He shook his head clear of such
thoughts and pulled the door open again, slower this time.
She still stood there, evidently fighting a smile. Well, it seemed
lawsuits wouldn't be an issue at least.
"Agent Scully? Was there some reason you found it necessary to
pound on my door so early this morning?"
It was gently said, but heartfelt nonetheless, and she evidently realized
it.
"I'm very sorry, sir. Really, I am. But I need to get to the Bureau and
this .... agent .... doesn't seem to understand the concept. He insisted
I get clearance from you."
This was too much. He stared at the woman for a moment. Looked
over to the frustrated agent assigned to her. Then looked over to the
agent outside Mulder's door to see the man fighting a grin. Okay, it
wasn't just him, then. It really was ludicrous.
"Agent Scully, have you been talking with Agent Mulder this
morning?"
She was confused, obviously. "Excuse me sir? I don't understand. I
think Mulder's still asleep."
He shook his head then said, "Agent Scully, this man has orders that
traveling involve at least three agents, only one of whom can be you or
Mulder. So, you're going to have to give me ten minutes or so. I'll go
in with you. Then we can arrange for Rick to stop by, in a couple
hours, and accompany Mulder."
She was ready to offer objections. He could tell. He'd had practice
now, after all. He raised one hand, said, "That's final. Give me ten
minutes to get ready. I'll knock on your door."
He shut the door then and stared at it for a moment. Thought that those
two needed to coordinate just a bit better. Then headed off to grab a
quick shower. He'd phone Rick on the way to the Bureau.
*******************************************
Tuesday, 7:41 a.m.
Richmond Bureau, Command Center
He'd remembered to bring his briefcase along this time, so sat towards
the right end of the table, files spread in front of him, working quietly.
His agent sat down to the left, at the end of the conference table,
papers, books, and files surrounding her in stacks. She was practically
lost behind them. He looked over her way every once in a while to see
her completely absorbed, unaware of anything around her. As with
Mulder, he had no idea what Scully was looking for in the stacks, but
figured she'd know it when she saw it.
He turned back to his pad and jotted down another thought he'd had
about the damned power plant situation. Something had to break
today. They couldn't sit around, knowing that it was a bomb ready to
explode, quite disastrously for tens of thousands of people, without
doing anything. But if they moved too fast, they might precipitate the
disaster. It was a thin line on which they were balancing and he prayed
they'd be able to walk it just a little longer.
He looked over again to see that Scully was staring at him. Then down
to the far end of the table. Then she looked back at him again, the
alarm on her face clear now.
"Sir, someone was here last night. Files have been moved."
He relaxed a bit and couldn't help smiling. "I know, Agent Scully.
Actually, Mulder and I were here for a couple hours. He needed to
work on something that could only be done here. And I'm afraid we
arrived at a decision that involves you."
She was staring at him suspiciously now, obviously wondering just
what had been decided behind her back. "Sir?"
"Agent Scully, how do you feel about a little television interview?"
*******************************************
A little over an hour later, Mulder pushed the door to the command
center open and stepped lightly to his end of the table. He saw that his
partner was at the end she'd staked out days ago and Skinner was
halfway down the table, with his back to the door. The man was way
too trusting.
"Good morning."
Scully shot him a dirty look and his boss' was almost as bad. He froze
in his tracks, wondering what the hell he'd done?
"What? What's wrong?"
Scully answered finally, her voice dripping in sarcasm and
consternation. "You volunteered me for an interview with CNN
without asking me?"
Ah ha, the boss had folded. Couldn't wait until he could talk with his
partner himself. The man had to go ahead and spill the beans.
Probably just spit it out, too, without even Scully-coating it. Time to
start fixing this. He put everything down on his end of the table, then
made his way to the other end, walking along the side away from the
door. Away from Skinner. He shot the man a slightly irritated look on
the way. No good. Skinner's expression never changed from the
irritated, long-suffering, martyred look.
He pulled out the chair to his partner's left and sank into it, keeping his
eyes on her face. She wasn't really mad. He was pretty sure she was
hurt that he hadn't woken her up last night.
"I'm sorry I didn't wake you up, Scully. I figured I'd just head over
here for an hour or two and be back to the hotel before anyone even
knew. But I found out about this three agent policy from AD Skinner
and he volunteered to come with me."
He glanced over at his boss then and saw the creased forehead. The
confusion. He could imagine why. Skinner thought Scully was angry
about being volunteered for the interview so couldn't understand why
Mulder was apologizing for something totally different.
When he looked back to his partner, he saw she'd relaxed a bit. Her
shoulders weren't quite so tense. The lips were no longer pursed into
tight lines.
"It just sort of happened, Scully."
She nodded finally, then smiled in apology. "I know, Mulder. Now
tell me about what's going to happen."
He settled into the chair then, stretching his legs out a bit.
"I've decided to go for Fort Bragg, North Carolina. It's only about a
hundred fifty miles from here and his family was stationed there from
'62-'64. I think the key reference then that either you or I need to work
into the interview is the comment 'where you lived when Kennedy was
shot'. It would be better if it was me, but I might not get the
opportunity. What's important is that it sounds natural. It has to fit
into the conversation somehow."
He saw her nod, fixing it firmly in her mind. Then he said, "And
when either of us say it, we need to look directly in the camera, as if
making eye contact."
She nodded again and smiled a little. "That's pretty good, Mulder.
Did you ever consider an alternate career as a spook?"
He faked a groan at the pun. She'd turned serious again, though, and
now asked, "Are you sure he can get there? And what if he's not
watching the television?"
"First off, I'm pretty sure he can arrange transportation somehow. I
don't think that's an issue. He's sure gotten around all right until now.
Secondly, you're right. We need to make sure he's watching. I'm
assuming that he's been keeping an eye out on my activities. Tracking
me and my movements. So we let it be known around the Bureau. We
mention it on a couple phone calls. We send a few emails where the
interview is sort of dropped in. I'm sure he'll hear about it and get the
message."
He turned to his partner more fully then and leaned forward, over the
table. "He wants to make contact. I'm sure of it. He'll be keeping
eyes and ears open."
She nodded and said, "It sounds like a good plan." She looked up to
him then, smile a bit brighter. "So what do you think I should wear?"
*******************************************
They were doing it at the Bureau at eleven. It was supposed to be
broadcast at the top of the hour at noon. They'd already made the
phone calls, sent the necessary emails. All other work had been
progressing as usual.
Mulder looked down at his watch and realized it was close now.
Jesus, he hoped this worked. If it didn't, they were up the proverbial
creek. They'd already made plans on getting to Fort Bragg quietly.
Scully hadn't been happy at the thought that she wasn't going, but
agreed it was the right thing. And Skinner would be with him. He
was surprised at just how pleased he was about that fact. He'd come to
like the man. Admire him.
There was a knock at the door and Rick stuck his head in.
"You're on. They're set up."
He stood and waited for his partner. Smiled at her and said, "You look
good, Scully."
They headed out, with Rick in front and Skinner following. They
decided to keep a low profile and leave the guards temporarily. No
need to advertise they were worried.
As they came to the room where the interview was to be conducted, he
stopped to the side and allowed Scully to precede him. Then looked
around. There seemed to be way the heck too much equipment for the
size of the room. There was a young woman, professionally attired, at
one end of the table. Then what appeared to be a cameraman and
perhaps a sound person. Then a third individual, whose purpose
couldn't be fathomed by his actions, as he was just sitting in a corner,
watching the proceedings.
Skinner stepped around his agents awkwardly, gently moving Mulder
to the right. Then approached the young woman who had to have been
the one who'd conduct the interview.
"Ms. Masterson? I'm Walter Skinner. I spoke with the producer on
the phone earlier. These are my agents. Special Agent Dana Scully
and Special Agent Fox Mulder."
The woman stood and smiled, reached out her hand to shake with
Skinner. Then turned to him and Scully, eyes sweeping over them
accessingly. They must have met with her approval because she smiled
even wider and said, "It's a real pleasure to meet you both. From
everything we've been able to learn, you're both real heroes."
He nudged his partner in the back just a bit. Not enough that anyone
else would notice. The woman, Masterson, was still staring at them as
they both just nodded. He got the impression she was plotting out a
plan of attack. The woman finally moved then, looked down at her
watch and said, "Well, we don't have much time if this is going to air
at noon. We have about fifteen minutes at most. So why don't we get
started?"
She waved them to seats that had already been positioned, then told
him to exchange positions with Scully. They played their musical
chairs while Masterson spoke with the three men who'd accompanied
her. Mulder heard her ask, "Anything?" Then the response, "Nope."
The interviewer smiled then, evidently happy that there wasn't
'anything', whatever 'anything' was.
The woman turned to them and said, "You look good on camera."
He leaned to the left and forward to whisper in his partner's ear. "Hey,
Scully. Maybe if we ever get fired we could do this for a living."
Scully wasn't being much fun. She merely grimaced a bit and shot him
a disgusted look, then glanced at their boss. Skinner was pretending
he hadn't heard. Masterson smiled again and said, "You both ready?"
He nodded, saw that Scully was as well. He had an irrational urge to
go over the plan once more, but knew Scully had it down. He ignored
the urge. Told it to go away and leave him alone.
Some five minutes later, he was starting to get worried. The
opportunity hadn't yet come. But then the woman said to them both,
"The van was estimated to have sunk something like twenty-five feet in
just the first moments and you each ended up making two dives, with
no equipment, dragged down by street clothes. Had either of you ever
had any dive experience before? "
And his partner, bless her, paused and deferred to him. She knew as
he did that they had an opening here. Now if he could just avoid
blowing it.
He smiled engagingly and looked directly into the camera, then said, "I
actually grew up on an island for part of the year and it was something
we did every summer. I don't think you ever forget how. It's sort of
like how everyone remembers where they lived the day President
Kennedy was shot. It just stays with you."
He almost blew it then because the sheer relief at finding the opening
and using it correctly practically made him wilt in the chair. But he
forced himself to appear relaxed, and smiled a bit more when his
partner said, "And I was a Navy brat. Diving was a prerequisite."
The reporter continued on inanely, and it was all he could do to keep
himself in the chair and paying attention. After what seemed an eternity
later, she nodded and thanked them. Said they had enough for the
piece. Then he realized that Skinner had moved to stand behind them.
He felt a hand on his shoulder, saw its mate on his partner's shoulder.
Then their boss leaned down and said, softly, for their ears only,
"Excellent work, agents. I'm proud of you." Then the man was
moving towards Masterson, for what Mulder assumed was a private
conversation about a particular piece of footage that absolutely had to
air.
He watched the conversation for a moment, not really registering the
words. He considered what his boss had just said. It had filled him
with a feeling of satisfaction. Skinner was proud of him. In fact, the
man had said so on a couple different occasions this past week. It felt
good. Made him happy, even.
He realized that Scully had stood and was patiently waiting for him to
join her. He looked up at her to discover her looking at him with what
he could only describe as fondness. God, she was so beautiful. So
kind. Caring. And she actually stuck by him. And liked him. He had
to be one of the luckiest people in the world. He knew it then, deep
down, where he wouldn't ever forget it. That he was lucky.
Incredibly lucky to have people like his partner and boss in his life.
Scully was still smiling at him, but had cocked her head, as if trying to
figure out what he was thinking. If she only knew. He reached up and
grabbed the fingers of her right hand, lightly, and shook them a bit,
then dropped them. "Hey, Scully."
"Yeah?"
"Don't I still owe you lunch? "
"Yeah, actually, you do. From days ago. And I haven't forgotten that
fact either."
He pushed himself up from the chair and moved back for Scully to
precede him to the door.
"I'll tell you what, as soon as this is over, I'm buying. Your choice of
restaurant."
She stopped abruptly, causing him to bump into her momentarily.
Then she turned towards him, a horrified expression on her face.
"Restaurant, Mulder? Since when do you ever go to restaurants?"
He leaned down a bit, expression serious, and said as honestly as he
could, "For you, Scully, I'd do anything." And after a heartbeat to
separate the serious comment from the joking one he added, "Even eat
with real utensils."
She seemed a bit confused, as if trying to work out his meaning. Gave
a somewhat distracted smile and continued out the door. His boss was
waiting there and as he met the man's eyes, he had the distinct
impression that while Scully might not have understood what he meant,
Skinner had. And it was all right. There was no condemnation there.
No censure. If anything, the slight quirk at the corner of the man's
mouth suggested his boss approved.
He fought off the slight flush that had heated his face and nodded as he
passed the man. Now for the tough part. Getting to Fort Bragg
without bringing a horde of black cars down on Burgos and
themselves.
*******************************************
The car ride had been wonderful. They got in, he closed his eyes, and
then was being shaken some two and a half hours later by Skinner.
They'd arrived. He sat up straight and stretched, looking around the
base. They were in one of the housing areas, on a circle. There were
five large four family homes, each oriented towards the center of the
circle. It was an active area, with little kids screaming and running,
playing and generally wreaking havoc. Young mothers sat alone an in
groups on the porch steps or in chairs, watching their kids. Wouldn't
have been a bad place to grow up, he decided.
He turned forward to look at his boss and asked, "Which one is it?"
His boss turned to look out the passenger window and pointed across
the circle to the second to the last house. "That one, the third apartment
from the left."
He nodded and tried to decide what next. Glanced at his watch and did
a quick calculation. It would be a half hour at the earliest and more
likely a few hours before they could expect anything. He looked at
Skinner again and raised an eyebrow in inquiry. "What do you think?"
His boss looked around the circle, then pointed to a parking lot that
wasn't actually a part of the circle. "Why don't we head back there?
Park the car. Then you and I go over there, to that playground.
There's a bench. It's in the open. He'll be able to see us easily. And
our people can disperse, cover the area. Have good line of sight."
He looked around and decided that was probably the only workable
solution. Although he hated the thought of being so exposed. But
they'd brought enough other agents along. They knew their jobs. And
would keep both him and his boss alive if there was any possible way
to do so.
"Sounds like a plan. Let's get on the phone and let the base M.P.'s
know who we are and that we'll be waiting for someone on the bench
of this playground. Otherwise, we'll have half the mothers here
reporting on dirty old men hanging around their kids."
The older man laughed and agreed. Made the call right after the man
informed the accompanying team of agents of the plan. Mulder stared
out the window, back the way they'd come. He tried to pick out the
movement of the agents and couldn't. Good. If he didn't see them
getting into position, no one else would either.
They waited for the all clear signal and then stepped out of the car.
Checked to make sure ear pieces and mikes were operational. He
panned his gaze around the circle once more, then headed off to the
right where the playground sat. There were children playing there,
young ones, too little to be in school. It made him incredibly nervous
and he was consumed by second thoughts. And third. Did they have a
right to do this so close to these innocents? His boss must have read
his mind because Skinner said, "It's all right, Mulder. There won't be
any bloodshed. No danger. And if there's even a hint of it, the kids'll
be taken care of first. They'll be fine."
He let out a breath almost explosively and nodded. Turned his head to
look at the older man. How had Skinner known what was going
through his mind? Nodded to him again.
They were at the bench then and his boss put his right hand on his
shoulder to stop him for a moment. Then said, "You take the outer
seat, Mulder. He'll be able to see you better."
Mulder moved over and sank down on the left side of the worn
wooden bench. Settled in comfortably, even as his boss was doing the
same at his end. He leaned back, crossed his right leg over his left,
resting it on his left knee. He put his left arm up on the little rail at the
end, then draped his right across the back. The bench was oriented so
they could see the building Burgos had lived in, as well as the circle out
front. He looked out, over the playground, and wondered who these
kids were. What was in store for them. Would one of these little ones
turn out to be an FBI agent? Or a world class scientist? How many of
them would even survive to adulthood? What was in their futures?
Happiness, he hoped. And contentment. And maybe people in their
lives like he had.
He must have made a noise. Maybe he sighed. He wasn't really sure.
But his boss had turned to him and now asked, "What are you
thinking, Mulder?" He was a bit caught by surprise. It was something
of a personal question. But then again, they'd had a few of those the
past few days. He didn't even feel that odd when he answered.
"I was just wondering about the kids, sir. What might be in store for
them."
He turned his head then, to see his boss looking at him, almost in
contemplation. "You like kids, Mulder?"
Again, it caught him by surprise. But he answered, honestly. "Yeah.
They're fun. Can be cute. Can be irritating as hell. But, yeah, I like
them."
The man nodded again, turned to look at the playground. Skinner was
sitting forward, both elbows propped on his legs, his hands hanging
between them, but gripped together. The silence lasted long enough
that Mulder thought the conversation was over. He was wrong.
Skinner said, "I always wanted kids. Sharon didn't. I couldn't
understand that. Still don't, as a matter of fact."
Mulder felt honored, suddenly, that his boss had confided this to him.
He knew it couldn't have been easy. He kept his eyes on the man and
said, "I'm sorry, sir. But you're not exactly over the hill. In fact, my
mother always used to say, 'You never know what might be over the
next hill.'" He grinned at the memory. "I always thought that was
hilarious as a kid, because I knew what was over every hill in my entire
neighborhood. I was evidently too literal for her because she stopped
trying to use sayings with me when I turned about seven. She saved
them all for Samantha after that."
His boss grinned and after a few moments the grin faded to a
melancholy smile. "I guess you're right, Mulder. You never really
know what might be in your future."
Silence reigned supreme once more, but then Skinner asked him,
"Have you ever thought of getting married and having kids, Mulder?"
He felt his entire body tense, then. He hadn't seen it coming, even
with the conversation they'd been having. Skinner couldn't have
known. Was just asking an innocent question. That was all. And his
boss must have sensed that the question wasn't welcomed. He sat up
straighter, started to apologize. But Mulder said, "That's okay.
Really."
He breathed deeply, dropped his leg and rocked forward to sit much as
Skinner had been. He turned to the older man and admitted, "I thought
I'd have that -- once. A long time ago." He turned his gaze to the
playground again, searching out the mothers who sat here and there. "I
was married once. Briefly. And thought I'd have all those things
normal people have. But I was disabused of the notion pretty quickly."
He smiled and laughed harshly. One sharp, bitter laugh.
His boss seemed to have slumped a bit and said, "Jesus, I'm sorry
Mulder. I had no idea."
He could hear the man shift beside him, could hear the sigh that echoes
his own. They sat then, in companionable silence, each lost in
thoughts of marriages that were and children that weren't. And his
boss spoke again, breaking the silence that had hung over them for
long minutes. "Well, Agent Mulder, as you said. You never know
what the future holds."
He turned his head to the right again to look at this man who'd become
a friend to him. Over the years and particularly in the last week. He
nodded his head, smiled a bit. And realized that maybe he should
consider his own advice. After all, look at everything that had
happened over the past five years. He never would have expected to
have a friend like Scully. Not in a million years.
The smile lingered as he turned back to look out over the playground
again. He hoped the man was right. He wanted to believe it wasn't
too late for those things he'd once taken for granted. And he sighed
again, this time in hope.
Their respective musings were cut short ten minutes later by a static-
filled transmission that told them that, "Burgos spotted, coming from
the south-west. Will be there ETA one minute."
Both men sat a little straighter, turned their heads to the right slightly to
catch sight as soon as the man came into view. And the man was there,
finally, just visible at the far end of the playground, walking pretty
confidently, considering all he'd been through in the past week.
Mulder saw his boss raise his left hand and speak into the microphone.
"Clear of tails?"
And the muffled reply again, "Yes, sir. All clear."
They stayed seated, hands open and clearly empty, waiting for the man
to approach at his own pace. The man headed straight for them and
Mulder was able to see finally that he still wore the same crumpled suit
as a few days ago. It was substantially worse off now. And he
suddenly felt an admiration for the man walking towards them. He
doubted the engineer completely understood what his research was
going to be used for. Burgos had managed to outrun who knew how
many goons, had been smart enough to figure out their code, and now
gutsy enough to place himself into their hands.
The man stopped in front of them then, about four feet away. Burgos
looked exhausted, with dark circles under his eyes. The knees of his
suit were starting to wear and thin and Mulder remembered back to
their mad crash to the tile floor of the bathroom when gunfire erupted.
He sat up straighter and nodded his head in greeting, then said, "It's
good to see you again, Dr. Burgos."
The man just nodded to him, then looked over to stare at Skinner.
Glanced around, expression intent, then turned back to Mulder again.
"I'm ready. Let's go."
Mulder stood and gestured to his boss. "This is Assistant Director
Skinner, from the Washington office. He's made all the arrangements
for your safety. We're heading right now to a location we've set up
that's about thirty minutes outside of Evansville."
He could see the man understood the significance. Evansville was
where the nuclear power plant was located. Burgos nodded and said
merely, "Let's go."
*******************************************
Burgos was put in a second car that would follow their own. Two
other vehicles completed the convoy, one leading, the other following.
They drove straight there, to a farm house they'd rented for the purpose
of setting up a perimeter and a command center, close to the plant, but
not too close.
Mulder was relieved to see that Scully was there already when they
arrived. He headed straight for her, knowing that Burgos was being
shown to a room with a shower and clean clothes. He'd arranged it
himself. Food would come next. Then conversation. Skinner had
agreed to the order, even though the man was under tremendous
pressure by the Director to resolve the case.
He reached his partner's side and smiled in greeting. "When did you
get here?"
"We headed out about an hour after you did. You owe me big time,
Mulder. I spent that hour packing up boxes in the conference room and
then packing your suitcase."
"Ouch. You deserve hazard pay for that. Sorry, partner. Them's the
breaks."
"Your bag is upstairs somewhere. I don't think anyone's really
thought much about sleeping arrangements. In fact, I don't think
anyone's really expecting to do much of that the next couple days."
Mulder glanced around the room and was pleased at the progress
Scully and Rick had made in setting up their portable command center.
He turned to look behind him and was shocked to see that his wall had
been brought. Well, not the entire wall, just the cards and relationship
matrix he'd created on Burgos' history. He smiled in real pleasure,
delighted that his partner would have thought about it. She must have
understood his thought because she said, "I insisted we take it. I know
we have Burgos now, but I figured, just in case. And I knew you'd
want it here."
He turned to her then and said, "Thanks, Scully. You were right." He
gestured around in sort of a vague manner then and said, "How about
you show me the set-up?"
She gestured to the right and proceeded to show him phones, faxes,
computer line drops, tables where they could spread out. Then the
various boxes they'd brought along with evidence, papers, files. They
were passing through the final room on the ground floor when Mulder
thought of something.
"Hey, where's Rand?"
He'd wanted to talk with the NSA agent and was curious where he was
now.
"He'll be along eventually. He told me he had something he had to do
back in Richmond. I got the impression it wasn't something he wanted
to advertise."
Mulder had been watching her closely and wondering. Wondering just
how much his partner and the NSA agent had talked. And about what.
"Mulder? You okay?"
"Huh, oh. Sure. Just thinking. That's all."
He jerked his head towards the other room, where the evidence and
files had been stored and said, "Come on, let's talk about our next
step."
They pulled out a couple chairs at the little table and tried to get
comfortable. Kind of a difficult thing to do in little folding chairs with
no padding. He grinned at her, then said, "I think we have an all new
reason to get this case over fast."
Skinner walked into the room then, apparently satisfied with the
arrangements that had been made. Their boss headed to the table and
sat down in an available chair, sighed and then just looked at them.
Mulder broke first.
"Sir? Anything wrong?"
"No. But until Burgos is ready, everything else is pretty much on
hold. He'll be down in a couple minutes. We'll eat. Then, Agents,
we talk."
He nodded his head, looked over at his partner and asked, "So, what's
for dinner, sir?"
*******************************************
Tuesday, 7:44 p.m.
Virginia, Farm House Outside Evansville
Rick, Skinner, Mulder, Scully and Burgos sat around the table in the
dining room. Everyone was tense, particularly Burgos. The man sat,
back straight, both feet on the floor. He had both his arms wrapped
around him, and was hugging his ribs. The other agents in the room
were a bit more relaxed, but only minutely.
Mulder had tried to reach Rand several times, unsuccessfully. He was
starting to get a bit worried about the man. Couldn't even begin to
guess what the NSA agent might be up to. Before he could think about
making yet another call, his boss said, "Dr. Burgos, I appreciate what
you must have gone through in the past week or so. But I hope you
will appreciate that we're not about to let a nuclear power plant
explode, killing tens of thousands of innocent people."
Skinner paused, allowing it to sink in fully. Burgos nodded,
expression never changing.
"Dr. Burgos, we need to understand a few things. Most importantly,
though, we need to know about the system that's been installed in the
Evansville nuclear power plant. We need to know whether there's a
trigger of any kind. We need to know what will happen if we start
evacuating the impacted areas?"
The man's expression turned pained as he struggled with Skinner's
words. Then Burgos said, with the weariness dripping from every
sentence, "I'm not completely sure. You have to understand something
here. I didn't know they were going to take my project and do what
they did. As soon as I got wind of it, I started investigating myself. I
was shocked to discover they'd actually built the system and installed it
in the Hampton plant. But it wasn't my system. It wasn't perfect.
They created it to be imperfect intentionally, so it would explode in the
way they wanted."
Mulder almost laughed at the underlying outrage so obvious in the
engineer's voice. It was ironic. The man wasn't upset that more than a
hundred people had died, but rather that the system he considered to be
his baby had been corrupted.
The questioning continued for another hour before Mulder decided he'd
heard enough. This was Rick and Skinner's area of expertise, after all.
He excused himself, shot an apologetic glance at his partner, then
headed to another room to make a call. And after three rings, he finally
connected.
The voice at the other end of the line answered, "Rand here. Speak to
me."
Mulder couldn't help rolling his eyes at the flamboyancy the man
demonstrated at every opportunity.
"Rand, where the hell are you? What are you doing?"
"Hey, Spooks. I'm still in Richmond and I'm doing what you should
have done before you left."
Mulder waited a moment, hoping there would be a clarifying comment.
No such luck.
"What are you talking about?"
"I thought your motto was 'Trust No One'. So how come you're all
ready to trust this Burgos guy without any corroboration? That seems
just a bit weird to me."
"Rand, I'm supposed to be the paranoid one here. Burgos has nothing
more to lose. There's no reason for him to lie to us. Why shouldn't
we believe him?"
"Look, maybe it's all hunky dory. But I think you've forgotten what
you yourself said just yesterday. The man's a genius. Do you really
think he didn't know what was going on? Come on, Mulder. He'd
have to be an idiot."
"No, actually, he could just be naive. It's happened before and it'll
happen again. People get used all the time, Rand."
"Yeah, well, this time you're the one getting used and you don't even
seem to recognize it. But don't worry, Spooks, I'm still on the case,
even though all you little Fibbies bagged out on me."
He closed his eyes tightly and rubbed them with his left hand. That
headache from a couple days ago was starting to surface again.
"Okay, fine. Now I'm back to my original question. Where are you
and what are you doing?"
"I'm not sure, but I think that's actually two questions."
He let loose an exasperated sigh, then said, "What are you trying not to
tell me?"
There was silence for a moment, but he thought he heard road sounds.
The sound of city traffic. He guessed that Rand was in the car, driving
somewhere. Then the man said, "I'm just continuing with the task I
was assigned. There's more here worth looking into."
He heard the man sigh and then the NSA agent seemed to turn more
serious. "Look, Mulder. I really need you here. I think it's important.
Very important."
Mulder looked around the empty room and tried to decide what to do.
Wondered if he could swing getting permission for such a venture from
his boss. Tried to figure the odds that Scully would let him go on his
own. And even though he knew what he was going to do, he couldn't
quite believe it. Jesus, what would his partner have to say? And
Skinner. Christ the man would not be happy. And he knew those
things were important to him. But even more important was
discovering the truth before the damned plant exploded.
He breathed out heavily, then said, "Okay, but I'm leaving a note for
Scully and Skinner. I owe them that much. It'll be a while before I
can leave. Maybe a little after two."
In reality, he planned to head out a bit after eleven. But his phone
conversations had been monitored before and a little misdirection never
hurt anyone. Rand would survive it. As long as he did. He asked the
NSA agent, "Where and how shall we meet up?"
There was silence for almost a minute as each tried to figure out a way
to get the message across without it being compromised. Mulder
remembered back to their first meeting and a joke the other man had
shared with him then. If the NSA agent could recall it, the tie-in would
be perfect.
He finally said, "Remember the joke you told me when we were in that
warehouse the first time we ran into each other?"
There was silence for a few heartbeats and then he heard the other man
chuckle. Good, Rand remembered.
Rand said, "Water - Circle - 4".
It would be so obscure for anyone who might be listening as to be
worthless. But to Mulder, he understood they were to meet up at 4
a.m. at the Marriot's swimming pool. The joke from so long ago had
involved an agent falling drunk into a hotel pool in the middle of the
night.
He confirmed, "Yep." Then disconnected. He had a lot to do and not
much time to do it in. The most challenging part would be to make his
escape with both Skinner and Scully here. He wandered to the front of
the house and looked out, trying to recall what Skinner had told him
about security. That wouldn't really be a problem. He'd learned long
ago that the most direct route was generally the simplest. He'd find an
agent who didn't know him, flash his badge, and drive away. But first
he had to arrange for the car.
*******************************************
Scully glanced down at her watch. A little after ten at night. And Rick
and Skinner were still talking with Burgos. She felt more secure now.
It seemed they had some time. Weeks at least, before anything would
happen at the plant. Skinner was just finishing with this first round of
questions and discussion, evidently deciding to call it a night. Her
boss was sending everyone off to bed, with a promise of an early start
the next morning. Up with the roosters, as he put it.
Scully smiled at the thought and stood, stretching her back. She put
both hands to it for a moment and leaned first right, then left. The
room had pretty much cleared out and she was starting to get curious as
to where her partner had gotten to. She wandered into the kitchen, then
into the breakfast area. There were a few agents around here and there,
but she didn't know any of them by name. She merely nodded to
them, then headed into the darkened living room. She'd just decided
her partner must be upstairs when she heard a noise, over by the
window.
She took two steps into the room and turned on a lamp over to the
right. Her partner was there, sitting on an old couch, staring out the
window. He was turned sideways, his left arm resting on the back of
the couch, his left leg pulled up at an angle. He looked ... pensive. It
was the only word that fit.
Mulder turned then to look at her, expression unchanging, and said, "I
used to feel ... small when I looked up into the sky. Insignificant."
Her partner sighed and turned back to the window. "And for some
reason, it always made me feel incredibly lonely. Even as a child."
She was off-balance, suddenly. Over the past several days, she had
almost managed to forget her partner's crisis of faith -- his crisis of
belief. He'd seemed his old self. Assured, irritatingly confident, even
content. And while she was thrown temporarily, she was still sure of
one thing. More sure than she'd been about anything in a very long
time. She couldn't bear the thought that her partner felt so alone. He
wasn't. She was there and wasn't planning on going anywhere. She
walked over to the couch and sat across from him, her knee just barely
brushing his own. Placed her right arm along the length of the couch
back and rested her hand on top of his.
Her partner turned back to her, forehead creased, lips tight. Then he let
loose a breath. Dropped his head so that it hung down, almost to his
chest. She thought she understood what he was feeling and thinking
when she said, "Mulder, you're not alone."
The head shook once more, back and forth, slowly, then raised. He
was smiling now and it confused her. His face was awash with
tenderness. Such tenderness that she'd seen only a few times in all
their years together. She felt her fingers entwined in his, felt him grip
more tightly. His voice was soft, almost a whisper, when he said,
"Scully, I know that. I do."
Her partner chuckled a little, then turned to look out the window once
more. The smile lingered and she was touched by his words, by the
grip of his fingers, by the smile that still lit his face. When he spoke
again, his voice was a bit stronger. A bit more purposeful.
"And that's why I couldn't do what I was going to do in an hour or
so."
Now she was really confused. She started to ask him what he meant,
but he continued on his own, still staring out the window, up into the
sky.
"I was going to meet Rand back in Richmond."
Mulder turned then and faced her again. Then held out his right hand
and for the first time she realized there was a piece of paper there,
gripped tightly. As she reached her left hand out for it, her partner's
grip loosened, allowing it to be taken.
She glanced down at it and understood immediately what it was. A
note explaining where he was going and why he'd left without telling
her and Skinner first. It was addressed to her. Started 'Dear Scully'.
She smiled a bit as she read it quickly, then looked back to him, even
more confused now. Mulder was staring at her, had been staring as
she read the note. And the smile on his face had turned into a quirky,
self-conscious grin.
"See what you've done to me, Scully? I can't even run off anymore
without telling you. I might as well be in leg irons."
She snorted at that, smiled back at him jokingly, even while internally
she knew her partner's words were indication of a milestone. An
indication of a level of trust she'd despaired he'd ever attain. She
glanced down at the note once more, then looked back at his face.
"What are you going to do?"
She'd almost forgotten that their fingers were linked on the back of the
couch, but was reminded again when he moved his hand so that his
was wrapped around her own.
"You tell me, Scully. I need to go to Richmond. But I don't want to
go alone."
His hand's pressure offered a steadiness, a rightness, a validation of
purpose. She had to fight a tightness in her throat when she said, "We
need to tell Skinner that we'll be gone for a day or so. He can help us
arrange for transportation. And we can set up a means of secure
communication."
She saw that his smile grew even wider and then the nod came finally.
Mulder wasn't even questioning her implication that Skinner would go
along with the plan. Yes, indeed. A major milestone.
"Well, what are you waiting for, Scully? You go talk with Skinner and
I'll get our things ready."
And before she knew what was happening, her partner was off the
couch and striding purposefully towards the stairs. She continued to
sit for a moment, watching as his legs disappeared finally from view up
the staircase. Then she turned to look out the window and into the
night sky. Despite the light that she'd turned on in the far corner, she
could still see out without hindrance of the light's reflection. The stars
were bright and the moon was a pale sliver. It was beautiful. And
while she understood how the sight could instill a feeling of
insignificance in some, she knew that she saw only limitless
possibilities, stretching out before her.
She smiled as she stood. Straightened her jacket and glanced down to
make sure she was presentable. Time to find their boss. And plan just
how she was going to get back at her partner for setting her up to talk
with Skinner. She'd give her partner credit for telling her his plan
before hand, but he was in deep shit for sticking her with this
particularly unpleasant task. Oh yes, he'd pay. He'd pay big time for
this one.
*******************************************
Skinner glanced down at his watch, then back to the window. A little
past midnight. It was all he could do to move his head. To lift his
arm. He was exhausted. And he knew his agents had to be exhausted.
Yet, there they went. Off to Richmond to meet with Mr. NSA.
He watched as the car headed out of the drive, leaving a small cloud of
dust hanging behind it. He watched for another couple minutes, as if
his agents might just change their minds and head back again. The dirt
settled. Quiet prevailed. No lights arrived to break through the
darkness. The night remained. As did he.
He turned from the window with a sigh, took a few heavy steps into
the darkened room and stopped once more, shoulders slumped, head
bowed. He'd never been a deeply religious man. The entire topic
made him nervous, in fact. But he found himself sending up a silent
prayer into the night. A prayer to whomever might be listening. A
prayer for safe-keeping. His agents were heading once more into
danger and he could do nothing to shield them from harm but pray for
them.
*******************************************
Wednesday, 1:27 a.m.
En Route to Richmond
Mulder wasn't completely sure what they should do to kill time before
meeting up with Rand. The last thing he wanted to do was hang
around the hotel that was their last known location. There could be
people watching. Looking out for them even though they had officially
checked out the day before.
He wrestled with the thought, then decided to table it. He had time still
before having to commit to a course of action. He sighed and tried to
resettle himself in the seat. Moved his hands down on the wheel and
raised his left leg a bit so he could rest his arm on it. He stretched out
his neck, and grimaced slightly at the sick popping that reverberated
through his ears. He tried to sit straighter then, attempting to find a
comfortable position. Decided finally there was no such thing tonight.
This morning. Whatever.
He glanced at his watch and grimaced. They still had a bit of driving to
do. Well, he did. He smiled and looked over to his right. Scully was
asleep. Had been since about five minutes out of the farm's driveway.
Right after insisting she wasn't tired.
He turned back to the road, reminding himself not to allow the
monotony to lull him into an unwary stupor. But his gaze was drawn
once more to the figure that sat next to him, just a short foot away,
slumped against the passenger side window. He could see only a little
bit of her face. It was mostly hidden behind a wall of cascading hair
and shadows. He could see her left hand though. It rested in her lap,
palm up and cupped, fingers curled slightly. And he could see the very
tips of her eyelashes, glistening in the moon's reflected light.
He tore his gaze away and back to the road. Breathed deeply. In, out.
In, out. Then grew concerned that such noisy breathing might wake
her. Risked a glance to the right again and saw that his partner still
rested without moving. He shook his head at his own neuroses, a wry
grin making its way to his lips. He consciously calmed himself.
Consciously relaxed.
It was quiet again, the only sounds coming from the tires against
blacktop. The occasional rustle of his own clothing. And the
breathing. His own and Scully's. He could hear her breathing and it
was like music. He didn't need a radio, didn't need conversation. He
could listen to his partner breathe for hours. And he did.
*******************************************
Wednesday, 4:02 a.m.
Richmond, Marriot Hotel Swimming Pool
They had found the most isolated corner of the pool area and stood
there, leaning against the walls, eyes searching for any movement.
Mulder had quickly scoped out the area upon arriving and had waved
towards this corner, made by the joining of two different wings of the
hotel. It was in shadows, despite the lights that circled the pool, and
shrubbery helped to hide them from anything but the most suspicious
eyes.
Mulder looked a bit to his left and down towards his partner. She
smiled at him, evidently having forgiven him for driving the entire way
without waking her. The night was cool and comfortable, the humidity
low for a change. A gentle breeze reached with wispy fingers to grab a
strand of Scully's hair and whip it across her face. He resisted the
almost overwhelming temptation to reach out and tuck it behind her
ear. Smiled a bit as she did it herself, even as a self-conscious
expression overtook her features.
He turned away, looking out once more at the oval swimming pool. It
almost looked greenish, with the six lights under the water cutting
aisles of illumination through otherwise dark waters. He decided it
was an odd shape for a hotel pool. You certainly would have a hard
time swimming laps in it. But that probably wasn't its purpose in life
anyway. It was there for families and couples, kids and grandparents.
Fun and sun. What a concept!
Scully moved beside him in a sharp jerking motion. He glanced to the
left and then turned quickly to look out in the same direction as she.
There was someone there. A dark and shadowy figure moved towards
them, along the same wall on which Mulder himself stood. He moved
his right arm up and flicked the snap on his harness, then rested his
hand on the butt of his weapon. He could hear movement to his left
and knew his partner did the same. And as the figure approached, got
to within twenty feet of them, the features finally became clear. Rand
had decided to make his appearance after all.
He relaxed a bit against the wall, refastened the snap and dropped his
arms. Then pushed away from the wall as the NSA agent came up to
them. The man seemed to pause for a moment, gaze on Scully, then
smiled and nodded. He whispered, "Let's go. I've got a room down
the road. I'll drive us."
Mulder raised one hand and asked, "Why one car? Why don't we
follow?"
The other man shook his head quickly, then said, "Less chance of
being noticed. Besides, we're not splitting up on this."
Scully was staring over at him and he saw her nod. Then nodded
himself. "Okay. Lead on."
After fifteen minutes of circling and misdirection, being assured that
they'd be there soon, to just hold on, Rand pulled into a motel parking
lot not a mile down the road from the Marriot.
He heard his partner snort beside him and couldn't help the feeling of
irritation that swamped him. "Jesus, Rand, does NSA stand for 'no
straight answers'?"
The man merely shrugged, gaze searching behind them as they entered
the room. It was dark and dingy and Rand apparently was not
planning on changing the situation.
Scully said, "Jeez, Rand, stop being so paranoid," and walked across
the room to a lamp, flipping the switch quickly. The NSA agent
frowned for a moment, then checked the shades at the window.
Yanked the curtains closed.
Mulder watched all this in silence, then walked over to the double bed
and flopped down on it. God, he was tired. A part of him wanted to
get this over with, whatever this was. Whatever it was the NSA agent
had in mind. But another part of him just wanted to close his eyes, let
his body go. Let his mind follow. He was tired. And then he did
close his eyes, but fought the desire to go to sleep.
He could hear movement around the room. He heard his partner move
to a chair and sink into it. Heard Rand move to the desk and pull the
chair out. He assumed the man sat down, although it must have been
done silently. Then the NSA agent spoke and Mulder forced his eyes
open. Forced his head to turn a bit to the right so he could see him.
"Look, I know you've been driving for hours and haven't had much
sleep in a while. But it's already past 4:30 and we don't have much
time left before sunrise. If we want to do this, we have to do it now."
He rolled over on his side and propped his head up on his right arm.
Glanced over at his partner to see her shaking her head a bit, eyes
closed, head dropped down almost to her chest. He bit his lower lip,
told himself to keep calm, then looked back to Rand.
"Just what the hell is it you think we should be doing that requires
darkness, Rand? You haven't told us anything. Nothing. Zip. Nada.
Zilch."
The NSA agent rolled his eyes, expression clearly suggesting, 'idiots'.
"We need to break back into Jeffries, of course."
That did it. Mulder rolled to a sitting position and swung his legs over
the side of the bed. Braced himself with his arms, then pushed himself
up. Took two steps that brought him over to the other man. Leaned
down to get close, practically nose to nose. His voice was dangerous
when he asked, "Are you fucking insane?"
He stood again, towering over the slouched NSA agent. He had to
give the guy credit. Rand's expression never even changed. But then
the man sat straighter, placed both hands on his knees and looked first
to Scully, then to him. The man's voice was low and even when he
spoke.
"No, actually, I'm not. What I am, however, is pretty damned sure
that plant's gonna blow in the next couple days. And I'm also pretty
damned sure that Burgos knows it. This system was his baby from the
beginning. He knew what was going on. He knew what was going to
happen. He planned it every fucking step of the way. And the only
reason I see for him to turn himself into you people is to try to divert
you. Throw you off the track long enough for his little experiment to
play out. And you fell for it, Spooky. What the hell were you
thinking?!"
The man stood, so quickly and violently the chair went clattering to the
floor behind him. Rand stood right in front of him, not at all
intimidated by the inches in height that separated them. And he realized
that Rand was also exhausted. Had probably been working straight on
this ever since they'd all gone their separate ways. The NSA agent
wasn't the enemy and wanted this solved and over with just as badly as
they did.
He felt himself relax. Took a breath and closed his eyes for a moment
to block out the sight of the other man's frustration and anger. Then
opened them again and said, "It doesn't really matter now, does it?
Let's go."
He turned to his partner and glanced over her quickly. Checked his
watch and decided they'd have to travel as was. At least Scully was
wearing a pant suit with sensible heals. And his suit would just have to
do.
Rand must have understood what he'd been thinking because the man
also glanced at his watch, then said, "At least you can lose the white
shirt. I've got something you can put on quickly. Scully's fine as is."
Mulder nodded and moved back to the bed. Took off his jacket and
dropped it. Pulled at his tie and let it drop on top of the jacket. Started
working on buttons. The shirt was off finally, with the white
undershirt following it. A black cotton T-shirt was waved under his
face and he put it on without question, tucking it into his pants as best
he could. The quick change couldn't have lasted more than a minute.
He turned and nodded to his partner who still sat in the chair across the
room. She was actually smirking at him and he could guess why.
Armani suit pants and black cotton T-shirt. A definite fashion faux
pas.
"Let's go, Scully. Don't call the fashion police on me, huh?"
*******************************************
Mulder looked over to his right and felt overwhelmed by deja vu. He
was back on the same ridge that he and Skinner had started on just a
couple nights ago. Rand was staring through infrared binoculars,
scoping out the darkened buildings below. There were no lights at all.
Not even in a single window. Mulder looked to his left then and saw
his partner, and the feeling of unease began to fade. He looked at his
watch and turned back to the NSA agent. Then said, "We have to
move soon or we're gonna get caught by morning. As it is, we have a
security change in only forty-five minutes or so."
The other man nodded and said, "Let's go." The man was already
jogging towards the buildings by the time Mulder and Scully rose to
follow. They'd decided to go in a different door this time. The very
one that Mulder had been dragged out of. The one that led straight to
the basement lab. And this time, they'd come more prepared.
They reached it quickly and stood watch as Rand broke in with a
finesse that suggested substantial practice. It all happened fast enough
that the security cam never even came close to catching them. Mulder
snorted as the man reached for the knob and turned in less than twenty-
five seconds. Then they were in and heading down the stairs. They
stopped at the bottom while the NSA agent pulled out an ear piece and
listening device. Listened at the door for some thirty seconds, then
nodded and turned the handle.
Mulder stepped in first, somewhat apprehensively. After all, he
figured he'd used up his allotment of escapes from mad gunmen. He
pulled out a small flashlight and shone it around him. The light didn't
go very far and he considered hunting for a light switch when the idea
became academic. Scully had evidently made the decision and already
found and flipped the switch. He heard Rand muttering behind him,
but tried to ignore it. Decided Rand could argue with his partner but he
wasn't going to get involved. No way, no how.
He turned back to the NSA agent who'd moved off to the left a bit and
whispered, "Any idea where we should look?"
The man shook his head briefly, then moved further away, evidently
intent on what looked to be file cabinets. His partner had staked out the
right side of the room and was headed towards the very model of the
power plants that he and Skinner had seen just days ago.
He made a quick circuit of the lab, then decided to head to the second
floor where he'd seen the hardware labs the other night. He let his
partner know where he was going, ignored the look of consternation
and concern, and promised he'd be careful. Then he was at the other
door, listening for any noise that might suggest movement in the
stairway.
He opened the door after a few moments and made his way carefully
up to the first floor. Listened, then headed up two more flights of
stairs. After listening once more, he carefully turned the handle and
entered the hallway. It was completely deserted, the only light coming
from sparsely distributed overhead fixtures.
He made his way down to the far end of the hallway where he'd seen
the hardware labs during his previous visit and stopped outside the first
one. A feeling of extreme uneasiness had started to overtake him and
he wasn't sure why. It had started down in the basement and turned
into full-fledged paranoia by the time he'd stopped outside the lab. He
moved towards the door carefully, took the handle and turned. Opened
the door and entered. He turned on his flashlight and searched around
the room. Then looked for a light switch and flicked it on.
What greeted him caused his stomach to flip and his blood to run cold.
Breathing suddenly became difficult. He ran out of the lab and across
the hall to another one. Yanked open the door and flicked the light.
The sweat was starting to flow freely now as he ran out and farther
down the hall this time to open another lab door at random. Flicked on
the light and ran out almost immediately. They were empty. Every
damned one of them. Stripped of anything useful. And understanding
was starting to settle in.
He ran to the closest stairwell and ran down to the first floor. He was
out in the hallway in moments, not even stopping this time to listen at
the doorway. He opened a door at random and saw a basically empty
office. No computer. No personal items. Checked another office and
found the same thing. He ran down the hallway then towards the
location of the security station. He was pretty damned sure he knew
why they hadn't seen any lights or activity from outside. He slowed as
he neared the end of the hallway and took the turn a little more
carefully. Then sprinted around it when he was sure it was safe.
Found his way to the center of the two buildings where the main
entrance was and saw finally that it was indeed deserted. There were
no security guards. In fact, the security cams weren't even being
displayed.
He turned then and raced back to the hallway, then ran down it as fast
as he could. When he reached the stairwell, he threw the door open,
no longer concerned with the noise he was creating -- the slam that
echoed through the empty hallway or the pounding of his feet. He
knew there was no one in the building to hear it. He raced down to the
basement lab and crashed through the door, yelling as he did so, "We
gotta get out of here, now. Come one. Something is not right here.
The place has been cleaned out. Move it, Scully."
He'd run straight to her and had her by the arm now. She was moving
finally and he allowed his grip to relax a bit. He turned to make sure
Rand was following, then grabbed the handle to the door that would
lead outside. Turned and pushed. Nothing. Yanked, thinking he'd
forgotten which way it opened. It still wouldn't cooperate. He stepped
back, allowing his partner to try, then turned as she shook her head.
"Out the other way, then. Move it."
Rand was leading the way now, gun out and ready. Mulder pulled his
own and saw his partner doing the same out of the corner of his eye.
Rand was almost to the second flight as he and Scully just started up.
He was following Scully, eyes on the steps ahead of him when the
gunfire echoed loudly throughout the stairwell. He fought the urge to
throw Scully behind him and tried to figure out what was happening.
He saw his partner lift her weapon to shoot, getting several shots off,
but had no idea still who she was shooting at.
There was a slam of a door above them and then he was far enough up
the steps to see Rand lying on the next flight, motionless. Scully was
already moving towards the downed NSA agent but Mulder wasn't
sure it was safe for her to do so.
"Scully, is it clear?"
She nodded quickly, not looking at him as she quickly bent down to
check Rand.
"How is he? Where was he hit?"
He could see a bit better now and could identify blood seeping from the
agent's arm. Rand was awake now and struggling to sit up. Good,
he'd be okay if they could just get the hell out of the building. He
moved to the man's other side and grabbed his good arm. Started to
pull. His partner had other ideas.
"Wait, Mulder, I have to bind this. It's bleeding badly."
He just shook his head and kept pulling, finally saying, "No time.
There won't be enough bandages to wrap us up if we don't get out of
here right now. They're getting rid of the evidence, Scully. That
includes us if we don't get a move on."
Then in a weak voice, Rand managed to add, "He's right, Dana. Come
on. Help me up here."
Then they were moving finally, all too slowly for Mulder's peace of
mind. He grabbed the handle to the stairwell and turned, yanked open
the door and practically shoved Rand through it. They were all jogging
now in an awkward threesome gait. But it got them to the outside door
finally and Mulder put his hand out and started to turn. Then stopped
as Rand gasped out, "Wait."
He turned to look at the agent, eyes questioning. Rand seemed to be
thinking about something, was shaking his head and muttering to
himself.
"What, Rand? We're sort of in a hurry here."
The man forced himself to stand straighter, then freed his right arm to
grab his gun. Looked at Scully then him and said, "They'll want to
keep us in 'til it's too late."
He understood then and let go of Rand's other arm. Gestured for him
to get back against the wall, then turned to his partner. "Scully, you
open and stay back for a second. I'll go out first and head to the left.
There's a dock here to the left that the stairwell connects to . You wait
for just a second and then you and Rand go straight and down the
stairs. I'll try to provide some cover for you."
He waited for her nod and knew she was fighting off objections. But
she also knew they had no time. This had to be done quickly.
She and Rand were in position and he raised his left hand, then
dropped it, signaling it was time. As soon as the door was yanked
open, he was through it and dodging to the left. Gunfire exploded
around him and then he was shooting as well, even while rolling along
the concrete docking area. Then there was more gunfire and he knew
Scully and Rand were out and running for it. He was firing
continuously now, one shot after another, aimed at the corner of the
building over to the left behind which someone had been hiding and
waiting.
He could see that his partner and Rand were down the stairs and
making their way to the open field. They'd be easy targets if he didn't
move and help them out. He was up and running then, weapon still
raised in front of him and aimed to the left. And as he drew even with
Scully and Rand, he could see around the corner of the building to
where a black car sat, lights on, engine running. And almost before he
could register what was happening, it was coming straight for them,
engine revving, those damned tires screeching.
He transferred his gun to his left hand, grabbed Rand's free arm in his
right and started pulling, knowing that Scully was doing the same on
the other side. They were across the road then and on grass, but he
could still hear the car coming at them. He let go of the NSA agent's
arm and turned to face the car, grabbing his weapon with his right hand
again. Then it was up and he was firing straight into the windshield, at
where the driver should be.
He must have been successful, must have actually hit the driver,
because the vehicle jerked finally and started an almost lazy turn to the
right. As he stood watching, arms dropped to his sides, the car made a
circling turn that brought it in a direct line with the building. And he
couldn't move. His gaze was drawn to the sight. He knew it was
going to crash. It was inevitable at this point.
He felt his partner's touch on his arm, but couldn't turn his gaze to
look at her. Then it happened. The black car crashed into the loading
dock, the driver's side taking the greatest impact since the car had
already started its turn back the way it had come. The crunch was
explosive, was, in fact, the only sound filling the lonely night.
All three agents raised arms in reflex as pieces of metal and glass went
flying. Rand sank down to the ground next to Scully and Mulder noted
the fact in some part of his brain, even while the other parts were telling
him that he needed to check the car for survivors. He started to move
forward, slowly, but stopped when his partner's grip tightened. He
turned to look down at her, eyebrows raised.
"Make it fast. We still have to clear the area."
He nodded and started jogging towards the car, weapon still gripped
tightly in hand in case of violent survivors. He needn't have worried.
A quick glance was enough to show that both men were indeed dead.
Quite messily dead. He leaned in and rummaged through the pockets
of the nearest man. Found a wallet and pocketed it. Tried to determine
whether he could get access to the second and decided not. Then he
heard Scully yell to him. Heard her telling him to move. So he pulled
back out of the car, took one last look, trying to ingrain the faces in his
memory, turned and ran back to his partner and Rand.
"Let's go. They're both dead."
Scully nodded to him and moved to Rand's right side. Mulder took the
man's left arm and helped him up. They started their awkward trek
again and were practically to the ridge when he heard his partner's
quick intake of breath. He leaned around Rand to look at her and
asked, "What? What is it?"
She jerked her head back and he stopped then. Turned and saw the
smoke billowing out from the upper windows in the closest building.
Saw the flames that flickered as they ate away at whatever flammable
materials they could find. It had moved fast and he was sure the
buildings had been soaked with accelerants. He shook his head and
turned to look at his partner and Rand.
"Do we call it in?"
Rand surprised him by answering strongly, "No way. We get out of
here as fast as we can. No time to waste messing around with reports
and interviews."
He nodded at that and turned away from the building, fighting the
surge of guilt that washed through him. When he looked over at his
partner he could see that she was consumed with similar feelings. He
tried to smile, knowing it would probably come out as a twisted
grimace. Said, "It's okay, Scully. Rand's right. We can't afford it."
He waited for her nod then moved to help Rand again. Time for them
to get the hell out of there.
*******************************************
Wednesday, 6:23 a.m.
Richmond, Rest Easy Motel
The sun was climbing slowly in the Eastern sky, sending little slivers
of light in through the blinds of Rand's motel room. They'd made it
back about twenty minutes ago and Mulder stood watching as his
partner wrapped gauze around Rand's upper left arm. She'd
pronounced it a flesh wound, cleaned it, stitched it, put something foul
smelling on it, and was now wrapping it up.
He'd watched as the NSA agent sat silently through her ministrations,
gazing directly at her face the entire time. Mulder couldn't tell whether
she'd actually noticed the attention she was getting from the other man
and was ignoring it or whether she was so consumed by the task at
hand that she was truly unaware. And worse, he didn't know which
one he was rooting for.
He realized suddenly that he was impressed by his partner's skill and
self-assurance. She'd worked quickly and competently, murmuring
reassuringly here and there at all the right times. He'd been on the
receiving end enough but had rarely seen her in action on others. And
he couldn't help but wonder whether she was using the same voice
with Rand as she usually did with him. Surely not. But then he
wondered why he was even wondering about such a thing. What
difference did it make, anyway? This was his partner. His friend.
And she certainly had the right to talk with anyone in any way she
might want.
He licked his lips, almost nervously and shifted his weight to lean
mostly on his right foot. His partner looked up at him then and smiled.
It was a soft smile. A genuine one. And he knew it was for him alone.
He felt his lip curl slightly and continued to watch as she finished with
the tape, patted Rand's arm, then started putting things away. She'd
never looked at the NSA agent's face even once.
He felt his smile get a bit bigger and then noticed that Rand had turned
away from his partner and was staring at him now, an expression of
curiosity on his face. He turned serious in a heartbeat and asked the
NSA agent, "What?"
Rand stared for another second, then grinned as he stood slowly.
Shook his head and said, "Nothing at all, Spooks. Nothing at all."
The man turned to where Scully was stripping off gloves and cleaning
up and said, "Thank you, Dana. Your touch is as gentle as you are
lovely."
He still hadn't moved to this point, but enough was enough. He
stepped forward, his feet moving of their own accord, and said,
"Rand, I think it's time we discuss what's next. Did you or Scully find
anything in the files?"
The other man leaned back a bit and looked up at him. Cocked his
head to the left and said, "Things were pretty much cleared out. I
grabbed a few files." He waved lazily to the desk where a few blood
spattered files sat. Then turned to Scully and asked, "What about you,
Dana? Did you find anything?"
Scully grimaced slightly, stood and moved towards the desk. She then
reached down to her coat pockets and pulled papers out with both
hands, laying them on top of the files that had been retrieved. Mulder
had to smile as more crumpled papers were added to the pile. He
watched his partner pat her pockets, then pull out one final piece of
scrap paper. She turned towards them with an almost embarrassed
expression and said, "I found a trash can that looked like it might have
some interesting bits and pieces in it. I figured since Rand was
handling the rectangular file cabinets, I'd handle the circular ones."
Mulder laughed a bit and moved towards the pile of papers and files,
wondering if they'd find anything worthwhile. He pulled the chair out
and sank into it, suddenly feeling absolutely exhausted. Completely
worn out. It wasn't exactly surprising, after all. None of them had
really slept. He sighed as he picked up the first piece of scrap paper,
then glanced wearily up to his partner who still stood next to him. She
had her right hand up to her mouth, trying to cover a yawn. From
behind them, he heard Rand move off the bed.
The NSA agent said, "You know, I think we'd be much better off
grabbing a couple hours sleep before we do anything else. What do
you say?"
He didn't really have the energy to say much of anything. He dropped
the paper back down and looked up at Scully again. She looked like
she was ready to drop. He turned in the chair and glanced around the
room quickly. Two double beds. Hmm. He looked up at his partner
again to see her standing with her eyes closed, quite possibly ready to
drop at any moment. That settled it.
He pushed himself up and took her right arm, saying, "Come on,
partner. Time for a nap." She didn't resist at all as he led her to one of
the beds, pulled the covers back and made her sit. He helped her take
her jacket off, moved her shoes out of the way as she kicked them off
her feet, then guided her down to lay comfortably. He stood then and
took in the fact that Rand had already claimed the other bed. Was, in
fact, lying face down with arms and legs stretched out to either side.
No hope there. He glanced over at the two chairs, and quickly rejected
them as feasible options.
He was so tired. Exhausted. His body was crying out to lay flat on a
soft surface. He looked back to the bed where Scully was lying, taking
only about a third of the available space. Surely she wouldn't
begrudge him one side. He kicked off his own shoes and stumbled
around to the other side. Dropped his jacket onto one of the chairs.
Reached out and flicked off the overhead lights, then sank down on top
of the covers. He raised himself up enough to get access to a pillow,
punched it wearily a couple times, then lay his head down.
It dawned on him almost immediately that they hadn't set an alarm. He
fumbled with his watch and decided to give them all three hours. They
deserved it. Then he closed his eyes and let sleep claim him. He didn't
struggle against it. Didn't begrudge it. Rather, let himself go with a
reckless abandon, even as the sun finally raised above the treetops to
paint the sky orange and yellow. But the light that now streamed in
through the windows bothered none of the three agents fast asleep in
the dreary room.
*******************************************
Scully opened her eyes and tried to understand what she was seeing.
She was in bed. She could tell that much. She was lying on her right
side, head on a pillow, legs pulled up at a slight angle. She could feel
smooth, cool sheets against the bare skin on her feet. There was a
bedspread pulled up to her ears that was obscuring part of her view.
But the part she was seeing seemed to involve her partner's face, only a
couple feet away, attached to a head that was also resting on a pillow.
He was lying on his left side so that he faced her. She could see that
his eyes were closed, with lashes fluttering in response to what she
hoped was a good dream. His mouth was open just slightly, and she
could see his head move minusculy with every breath. She noticed
then that he was on top of the covers and it caused her to smile. Trust
Mulder to think about such things when they were exhausted, fully
dressed, and in someone else's company. She closed her eyes again
and tried to think about the past couple days and what it all meant. But
she couldn't really concentrate. She kept thinking about her partner
and wondering how he was doing. They'd never really had that talk
and with all that had happened in the past week, it seemed they hadn't
really even had the time. But maybe she should make the time. Force
the issue.
She opened her eyes again and stared at him for a good thirty seconds.
She couldn't see his entire face because of the covers, but the part she
could see made her smile. He seemed to be resting peacefully. But she
wanted to see his entire face, so she moved her arms up and pushed the
covers down a few inches. And somehow, her partner felt it or heard it
or sensed it. Because he opened his eyes, slowly, lazily, then blinked
once. Twice. Finally three times. Breathed deeply and seemed to
stretch a little. She wasn't sure if he was actually awake and aware of
his surroundings, so she whispered, "You awake, Mulder?"
He blinked again and then she saw that his forehead scrunched a bit, as
if in concentration. He looked confused as he asked softly, "Scully?"
"Yeah, Mulder. We took a nap. Remember?"
He closed his eyes then, tightly. Opened them again and raised his
right hand to rub at them. He dropped the hand on the pillow by his
head and opened his eyes again to stare at her. She could see that he
was still exhausted, but was at least starting to come out of the fog that
had claimed him.
"Yeah, I remember. What time is it?"
She shook her head a bit, and whispered, "I'm not sure." Of course,
she could have turned over and looked at the clock next to the bed, but
for some reason she was quite comfortable right where she was. Her
partner shifted a bit and raised his left arm, glanced at his watch, then
said, "We still have a half hour. Why don't you go back to sleep,
Scully?"
He'd pulled his arms in close to his chest and brought his hands under
his cheek. She smiled at the sight, knowing he had no idea of the
childlike image of innocence he was conjuring in his partner's mind.
She merely nodded though, and said, "Okay. I will if you will."
She watched as a small smile lit his face. Then he whispered, "It's a
deal."
She saw him close his eyes, the smile lingering, and closed her own as
well. She wasn't really so exhausted anymore though and knew it was
a lost cause. But she remained still for a good five minutes anyway,
with eyes closed, concentrating on sleep, and listening to the steady
breathing of her partner and friend. Then she opened her eyes again
finally, and was startled to see that Mulder was watching her.
She whispered, "I thought you were going to sleep some more."
"I tried. I'm pretty much awake though. What about you?"
"Same here. I think I'm up for the duration."
Mulder still hadn't moved. Was just staring at her, the small smile still
lingering at the corner of his mouth. She took a deep breath and came
to a decision. She pushed the covers down a tad more so she could see
him fully, then asked softly, "Mulder, how are you?"
She was consumed with guilt for bringing it up when he jerked
backwards as if struck. She saw the quick intake of breath. The hands
tense. And then he closed his eyes and she knew he was preparing to
roll away from her. She reached out quickly before he could move and
placed her left hand over his own hands, gripping them tightly. She
was tempted to let it drop. But they'd ignored it too long already. It
was time to talk about it.
"Mulder, I'm sorry. I've just been so worried. Please. Won't you
talk to me?"
His eyes opened finally and focused on her once more. He was
obviously struggling to regain the composure lost as a result of her
surprise question. She waited, hoping against hope that he'd decide to
let her in -- to confide in her. They had to end this damnable 'I'm fine'
war, once and for all.
She thought at first that he wasn't going to answer, but he did finally,
in a soft voice that trembled just slightly.
"It's hard to talk about. I thought the rules were that we didn't have to
really talk. How about if I just say I'm fine and you drop it even if you
don't believe me?"
The corner of his mouth twitched just slightly and she resisted the urge
to go along with their old approach to handling fears, problems, and
heartache. But she kept her silence and hoped he'd make the first
move. She wasn't sure if she could do it if their positions were
reversed, but Mulder was the strongest person she knew. She trusted
in her partner to make things right again. Not just for himself, but for
both of them. The expressions that crossed his face were almost
painful to watch at first, but then seemed to settle into one of peace. He
spoke again, softly, almost in a whisper, and his voice seemed to be
filled with wonder and hope instead of the despair she had feared.
"I'm okay, Scully. Really."
She could tell he wasn't finished, was just struggling for the right
words, so she gave him the time he needed. Waited until he was
ready. Watched as a range of expressions crossed his face, fleeting
glimpses into thoughts and feelings from which she'd been distanced
for too long.
"These last few days, I've hardly even thought about it. We've been
so busy. And this case ... I don't know why -- don't know what it is,
but I've almost started to believe it's all worth it again."
She was surprised as he shifted his hands so that he grasped hers
between his own.
"I'd almost forgotten what I was doing here. In the Bureau. There
seemed to be no point any more. I know that doesn't really make
sense, Scully."
Her partner was shaking his head slightly on the pillow, as if he
couldn't fathom his own thoughts and feelings from the past several
months. She had to strain to hear his whispered words.
"I was just so sick of it all and felt so alone. I know I wasn't. I know
you were there, Scully."
She swallowed against the tightness in her throat. Her partner had
done more than just let her in. Had done more than confide in her. He
was telling her his deepest fears and waiting for her to respond. She
nodded and said, "I've always been there, Mulder."
One corner of his mouth curled up slightly, the closest he'd come to
smiling during the conversation.
"I know."
She decided to remind him of someone else who was on his side.
"And Skinner has, too, Mulder. I hope you know that he's been there
for both of us."
Again she watched as he struggled to accept her words. He sighed
heavily before speaking again.
"I know he has. And I know he didn't really have any other option
when he ... did what he did. It wasn't his fault."
Scully thought back a couple weeks. Remembered the call she'd gotten
from Skinner telling her that he'd been forced to have Mulder
committed for observation. Remembered as his voice had cracked on
the words. Almost unable to answer her questions. And then she'd
made it to Chicago finally and her boss had met her. Filled her in.
And his shaking hands had belied the confident veneer he presented.
"I don't think I've ever seen him so upset. He wouldn't even talk with
me at first. I don't think he could."
Her partner was obviously caught by surprise. He hadn't known the
affect his apparent breakdown had had on Skinner. Probably hadn't
even considered it. She watched as acceptance settled over his features
and took up permanent residence within. The slight upturn of his lip
moved even higher, making its way dangerously close to smile
territory.
Her partner said, "He's a good man. I'm glad he's on our side."
She nodded in silent affirmation, then said, "What now, Mulder? What
can I do to help?"
The pressure on her left hand increased as he squeezed it between his
own even tighter for several long seconds. Then he said, "I told you
before, Scully. You help just by being here."
She didn't know how to respond. What to say. He'd been honest
with her. They'd managed to avoid the 'I'm fine' game for once and it
felt as if something momentous had happened. She decided it was time
to match his braveness and opened her mouth to share her own
feelings. But just as she did, Mulder's watch alarm went off,
effectively ending whatever chance she might have had.
Her partner released her hand and turned off the alarm quickly, then ran
his right hand over his face. They both moved then, rolling and sitting
almost simultaneously, each moving to a separate side of the bed. She
knew they couldn't postpone any longer. They had to get back to
Evansville.
She was closest to the other bed so took a step towards it and leaned
over Rand. The NSA agent hadn't budged in the past three hours. She
reached down and grabbed his shoulder, then shook gently.
"Hey, Rand. Wake up. We have to get back."
The man started to move finally. When she was relatively sure that he
was awake, she moved away and headed to the desk where the pile of
papers and files still sat untouched. Before she could reach for them,
Rand interrupted her.
"Let's not read them now. Let's do it in the car. We gotta go."
She merely nodded to him and looked over at her partner. He was by
the window, looking out a crack in the shades. He turned to her and
said, "It looks clear. Let's call Skinner and head out. We should be
back there in a few hours at most. I'll drive. You and Rand can read."
"Okay. Let's get going."
A short ten minutes later, they were back on the road. Skinner was
waiting for them.
*******************************************
Wednesday, 1:23 p.m.
Virginia, Farm House Outside Evansville
Skinner was shocked by the appearance of the three agents as they
practically stumbled out of the car. He decided the first order of
business was to make sure they got some rest and food before anything
else. As he looked through the door's window, he took in the wound
so apparent by Rand's makeshift bandage. Saw Scully's rumpled,
blood-spattered clothing and Mulder's exhausted features. He stepped
out of the house to meet them, even as he gestured for several agents to
follow. He directed two of them towards Rand, motioned for Rick to
help Scully, then moved towards Mulder himself. He tried to be
unobtrusive as he took the younger man's arm to help guide him into
the house.
"Agent Mulder, it looks like you all have a story to tell."
The younger man jerked his head a bit in acknowledgment, eyes never
raising from the ground, and said, "Yes, sir. We have some files and
papers in the back. They need to be brought in."
Skinner almost stumbled when his agent stopped suddenly. Mulder
dragged his head up to look at him directly for the first time. He
sensed the importance of the moment and asked, "What is it?"
In a low voice, his agent said, "Sir, we don't have a lot of time.
Burgos lied."
Skinner felt like he'd been hit. He exhaled noisily, breath whooshing
out explosively, and forced himself to nod slowly. He waved towards
the house with his free hand and they started walking once more. He
tried to adjust his thinking before speaking again.
"I take it you have time enough to get something to eat and get cleaned
up, at least."
He was reassured to see the slight smile that crossed his agent's face
fleetingly.
"Sir, I'd kill for a shower just about now."
"I think that can be arranged without bloodshed, Agent Mulder."
*******************************************
A little more than a half hour later, Skinner sat at the dining room table
with Rick, Rand, and his agents. Burgos was in a room upstairs with
a guard outside his door. There was no question that a shower and
change of clothes had done wonders for Rand and his agents. They
looked refreshed, even though they were still obviously exhausted.
He'd arranged for food and the table was presently cluttered with
plates, glasses and utensils. He decided to let the agents eat first,
confident that they'd let him know if and when time became critical.
Mulder was the first to make a move, clearing his throat to signal he
was preparing to speak.
"We went back to Jeffries."
Skinner sat straighter at these words and shot a quick look over at
Rick. They'd speculated as much the night before and had wondered
throughout the morning what was happening. He glanced at Rand's
bandaged arm before asking, "And did you have more luck this time?"
Rand asked with a snort, "Have you listened to the news this
morning?"
He recognized the caustic nature of the question, yet responded
anyway. "No. Why? What would we have heard?"
The NSA agent shifted uncomfortably and Scully saved him by
inserting dryly, "Just a little fire, a car crash and two dead bodies."
She turned in her seat to face her boss head on and Skinner waited her
out, recognizing that an explanation was coming.
"Sir, we realized eventually that the place had been cleared out and
suspected that something was happening so we decided to get out. Just
as we were leaving, our two men in black, presumably the same ones
who nabbed Mulder the other day, started shooting at us. Rand was
wounded on the way out of the basement lab. We managed to get out
of the building and then the black car was coming at us. We shot the
driver and the car crashed into the building rather spectacularly. Both
men were dead. We were halfway back across the field when we saw
the buildings were going up in flame. By the time we reached the far
side, they were practically consumed by the fire. They must have
soaked the buildings with accelerants."
Scully paused and glanced over to her partner. Skinner recognized that
the ball had been passed. This was further enforced when Mulder
started speaking.
"Rand and Scully managed to retrieve some documents. There wasn't
much around. The place had been cleaned out, but it was done hastily.
We headed back to Rand's hotel and rested for a bit before coming
back here. That's where we called you from, sir. Scully and Rand
went through the papers they retrieved on the way here. They found
something quite disturbing."
The ball was passed once more as Rand took up.
"They were sloppy with what they threw away. Evidently they haven't
discovered shredders yet. Dana grabbed some crumpled papers out of
the trash. A few of them had very clear scheduling information on
them and a name here and there. That system's gonna blow in the next
couple days."
Skinner had started preparing himself for such news as soon as Mulder
told him that Burgos had lied. Still, he struggled with it now. He
glanced at Rick to find the man had paled in the past minute. He took a
breath, glanced back at his agents, and asked, "There's no question?
You're absolutely sure about this?"
Mulder seemed to push himself up in his seat and then leaned forward
to rest his arms on the table.
"Sir, it's not definite. It's possible that our break-in the other night
caused a change in plans. I don't know."
His agent shook his head wearily, then added in a voice hardened with
determination, "We have to talk with Burgos again. I want to talk with
him."
The glint in Mulder's eyes suggested that if Burgos knew what was
good for him, the man would start running now.
Skinner said, "All right, Agent Mulder. That can be arranged. The
sooner the better, I think."
*******************************************
A little more than a half hour later, Mulder and Burgos were sitting at
the dining room table across from each other. A tape recorder sat on
the table between them and in front of Mulder was a pad of paper and
pen. Skinner, Rick, Rand, and Scully were in the next room listening,
but it was decided the fewer people in on the interrogation, the better.
Mulder wanted to set the man at ease. Wanted to be able to catch him
off guard. Didn't want to give away that they knew more than Burgos
thought they did.
Burgos sat back in his chair, elbows resting on the table in front of him
with hands loosely gripped. He was dressed comfortably and had a
well-satisfied look on his face in addition to a hint of curiosity. All the
man had been told was that Mulder had a few more questions for him.
Mulder was oriented so that he could see into the living room, where
Scully and the others sat, even though they were presently out of his
sight. He also adopted a relaxed posture, opting to sit back in the
chair, with his right ankle resting on left knee. He allowed his left arm
to drape over the side of the chair, with fingers hanging loosely. He
had his chin propped on his right fist and moved the hand momentarily
in front of his mouth to stifle a well-timed yawn.
"I'm sorry, Dr. Burgos. I'm a little tired."
He smiled a bit at the man, noting the nod of understanding.
"Has everything been all right here? Are you comfortable?"
The man shrugged his shoulders a bit and said, "Yes, everything's
been fine."
He nodded and dropped his right hand to the table to pick up the pen,
Fiddled with it while he said, "I just need to ask a few more questions,
if that's all right with you."
The nod came easily to the other man.
"Do you have any problems with my taping this, Dr. Burgos? It just
makes it easier in the long run. I don't have to worry about taking
notes if we can tape it."
"No, that's all right. I have no objection."
"Thank you."
He reached forward and set the record button, then angled the machine
so it could more easily catch their words.
"Dr. Burgos, I'd like to go back to our discussion from ..." He looked
up, forehead scrunched a bit, as he asked, almost with hesitation, "...
yesterday?"
The man snorted and replied, "It does seem like it's been longer,
doesn't it?"
He smiled again congenially. "Yes, it certainly does. A lot's
happened, hasn't it?"
The nod came again, but with a little bit of hesitation.
"Dr. Burgos, yesterday when we spoke, you told us about the
development of your system and explained how all the different
research groups had contributed in different ways."
A slow, controlled nod.
"We need to understand exactly what we're up against at the Evansville
nuclear plant. Now, as I understand it, someone took your work --
your system -- and modified it. Then installed it in the Hampton air
separation plant."
"That's right."
He jotted something down on the pad of paper, then tapped the pen for
a moment.
"They modified it by programming the hardware with an excessive
degree of mutation in the Genetic Algorithm that ended up working
together with incorporated errors from the training of the ANN in such
a way that an instability was introduced into the control and diagnostic
system."
He smiled wryly and shook his head a bit, then added, "I don't really
understand it all, Dr. Burgos. You'll have to forgive my ignorance
here."
The other man shifted a bit in his chair and returned the smile. "That's
all right, Agent Mulder. Actually, that's pretty much correct. It was
the combination of the two mutations -- in both the hardware and the
controlling software -- that caused the explosion."
He let the pen drop down and sat back again, intentionally moving
slowly. He folded his arms across his chest loosely then, and nodded.
"So, this company ... this Jeffries. Do you know who it was at the
company that took your work and modified it? Then installed it in the
Hampton plant?"
"No, I have no idea."
He paused in his questioning, adopting a look of careful consideration.
"How do you think they managed it, Dr. Burgos? How did they get
access to your work?"
He was watching Burgos carefully now, and took in the fact that the
man licked his lips, shifted in his seat, and clenched his right hand
briefly before answering. Jesus, how could he have been so blind
yesterday? He took the man at face value and never even questioned
his story. Well, no longer.
Burgos cleared his throat and said, "I can only guess, of course. But I
suppose they got hold of my notes. I have to admit I wasn't
particularly careful with security. I never expected that I'd be a target
for industrial espionage."
The man smiled, almost shyly, and Mulder knew now without any
doubt that the man was lying to him. He merely returned the smile,
just enough to let the man know he wasn't a threat. They were friends.
Both on the same side. Keep believing that, Burgos.
"I can imagine how surprised you were when you found out. How did
that happen, by the way? How did you find out what they'd done with
your system?"
The other man shifted forward a bit and gripped his hands a tad tighter
before releasing them. The man licked his lips again before speaking
and Mulder could see a small bead of sweat now, at the man's right
temple.
"I visited Jeffries. They funded quite a bit of the work, you know.
And I came across a lab that had hardware experiments running that
looked like mine. I got suspicious."
"I see. That explains it. Thank you."
Another little smile.
"So you started checking into what they were doing?"
"Yes, that's right. Quietly, of course."
"I can imagine. How did you find out that they'd built a system and
installed it in the Hampton plant? Oh, and when was this?"
It was similar to an earlier question, but this was the key to a good
interrogation. Ask, get an answer that you're not particularly happy
with, that you know is false or incomplete, so you ask again but
differently, and keep asking until the suspect breaks. But it had to be
done carefully. Slowly.
The man shifted around again, his discomfort becoming more apparent.
"Actually, Agent Mulder, I think it was about three months or so ago.
Around February maybe. I ..." There was a slight pause and he could
almost see the man groping for plausible answers. "I ... got a call with
a question about some detail from my work. It was one of the
scientists at Jeffries. I think I'd met him before. I'm not sure now.
Anyway, we talked for a while and I found out then that they'd built a
prototype and had actually installed it somewhere."
Mulder made sure to keep his features frozen in place. Made sure the
disbelief that overwhelmed him wasn't showing. "So, this was some
time in February? Do you remember what part of the month it was?"
The man looked a bit confused, as if sensing this was going to lead
somewhere dangerous, but he answered finally. "I seem to recall it
was before Valentine's Day by about a week, so that would put it
around the seventh or so."
He nodded his head and leaned forward over the table again. Picked
up the pen once more and jotted a note down on the pad. Then he
raised his head to look straight at Burgos.
"Maybe you could help me clarify a timing problem, Dr. Burgos.
According to our notes, the system was installed in the plant in late
January. That seems to suggest that it was already fully developed by
that time, doesn't it?"
He watched as Burgos raised a hand to wipe away the sweat that had
collected on his forehead. The man responded finally, saying, "Yes, I
would suspect that would be so."
His voice was only marginally harder as he asked, "Then, Dr. Burgos,
why would anyone be calling you with a question after the system had
already been developed and installed?"
He could see the other man struggling more obviously now. The
facade was cracked and the nervousness was apparent in every move,
every gesture. Burgos shook his head then raised his hands, saying, "I
have no idea, Agent Mulder. Perhaps they were still making
modifications at that time. Maybe they were adjusting the control
hardware."
He continued to stare at the man, then smiled and nodded, as if
accepting the suggestion as fact. "All right, Dr. Burgos. Perhaps you
can help me with something else.
"The man you spoke with on the phone. What was his name? Do you
recall?"
Burgos again raised his hands and shrugged his shoulders a bit. "I'm
sorry. I don't really remember."
"But you'd met him before -- at Jeffries?"
"Yes. Yes, I had."
"And when was this? When exactly did you meet him?"
"Well ..." The man paused again, obviously trying to work out a safe
answer. "I think I met him when I visited Jeffries the first time I got
suspicious."
He had the pen in his hand again and was tapping it lightly against the
pad in front of him. "And when was this again?"
Burgos shifted in his seat again, obviously uncomfortable. The man
glanced at the door, and Mulder could guess what was going through
his mind. Burgos wanted out.
"I believe I visited around November. Towards the end. I think it was
around Thanksgiving."
A noncommittal nod. Time to shake the man up a bit. "You were at
DARPA at this time, correct?"
The change in topic phased the researcher only slightly. Burgos said,
"That's right. I'm a Program Manager there. Well ... I was. I don't
know now. I haven't been in contact with them. They have no idea
what's going on."
He allowed a look of commiseration to cross his face. "And can you
describe for me the nature of your relationship with Jeffries while at
DARPA?"
The man appeared to be thinking hard and fast once more. "I didn't
really have a relationship with them in any formal sense. I had worked
with them previously, though."
He forced himself to sit back again. Forced his muscles to relax, even
though he was so tense he'd need a shitload of muscle relaxants after
this. "So the purpose of your visit in November was what? Just a
social call?"
He watched as Burgos shifted around again uncomfortably. "I had
received a call. They invited me out for a visit. Just to keep me up to
date with some of the work they'd been doing. It's typical for
companies and universities to invite Program Managers to their sites.
Sort of a 'Show and Tell' visit."
Burgos seemed pleased with himself so he merely nodded again.
Smiled slightly. "Who did you say it was who called you?"
"I don't think I did say, Agent Mulder. But it was just one of the
researchers there."
Mulder flicked his eyes to the doorway, wishing briefly that he could
get this over with. What he wouldn't give to be sitting in there right
now, on the couch next to Scully. He focused once more on the man
sitting across from him. Decided it was time to make Burgos sweat
again.
"Dr. Burgos, was this one of the people you worked with a few years
ago when you were at Jeffries?"
They'd only guessed that the man had spent time there, but it was time
to put him on the spot and confirm it. Burgos jerked slightly. Licked
his lips. Flicked his eyes around the room. He finally responded, "I
never worked at Jeffries. I think you've got inaccurate information,
Agent Mulder."
He had to give this guy credit. The man wasn't going to shake easily.
"I'm sorry, Dr. Burgos. Perhaps I was incorrect. We have in our
notes here that you were at Jeffries after you left the DoD and before
you went to DARPA. That, in fact, you worked there for three and a
half years, trying to build the very prototype you now claim you didn't
know about." He stood and moved forward suddenly, leaned across
the table and said in a hard voice, "And when you were unsuccessful in
your goal, when you discovered you needed another piece to the
puzzle, you went to DARPA where you then arranged funding for a
project that would provide the scientific and technological advances you
needed for your system."
Suddenly he felt he wasn't close enough. He pushed back from the
table violently, sending his chair clattering to the floor. He circled the
table quickly, leaned over Burgos with one hand on the back of the
man's chair and the other on the table, face only a foot away from
Burgos'. The man shrank back from him, with head shaking in denial
and lips moving silently.
Mulder saw movement in the doorway and waved whoever it was off.
Not yet. He wasn't done yet. "It was your project all along, Dr.
Burgos. Don't try to tell me otherwise. You're responsible for the
deaths of more than a hundred people in Hampton, Virginia and you're
going to be responsible for the deaths of tens of thousands of people if
the Evansville plant blows. You, Dr. Burgos. It'll be your fault. No
one else."
The man had pushed himself back in the chair as far as he could go.
He could see that Burgos was breathing heavily and the sweat was
stark on his face and neck. But the man couldn't seem to speak.
"What did you get out of it, Burgos? What did they promise you? Was
it worth it?"
The sight of the man cowering in the chair sickened him. It was all he
could do to keep from grabbing the man and making him answer. It
wasn't necessary though. Burgos spoke in a wavering voice.
"I didn't know people were going to die. I swear I didn't."
"But they did die and now they've put this system in a nuclear power
plant. And you've done nothing but try to cover their tracks. Who are
these people, Burgos? Tell me! Who the hell do you work for?"
His voice had grown more demanding and strident but he couldn't help
it. He was exhausted and wanted it to be over with. He couldn't last
much longer.
Burgos was practically in tears when he answered. "DARPA. I work
for DARPA."
"No. Tell me the truth. No more of your crap. Who do you work
for? The NSA? The CIA? Who!?"
His right hand had gripped Burgos' shirt at some point. He looked
down at his hand, wrapped in the cotton material, and wondered
whether he was losing it. He looked back into Burgos face and didn't
care. The man had killed without remorse. Had planned to sit there
while another disaster was unfolding. A disaster of much greater
proportions.
"Burgos, so help me God, you're going to answer me and you're
going to answer me now. Who do you work for!?"
The man had both his hands up, gripping the hand Mulder had gripped
in his shirt, trying desperately to get him to release it. But he broke
finally, sputtering out, "The DIA. I work for the DIA."
Mulder allowed his grip to relax and dropped his hand, even while he
struggled to fit this new information into the framework of what they
already knew. And even though he'd somehow expected a government
agency to be involved, he was still surprised and disappointed. He
saw movement again in the doorway and glanced up to see Skinner and
Scully there. He looked back at the man in the chair and moved back a
bit more.
"The Defense Intelligence Agency? You're telling me that the DIA
blew up that plant in Hampton and is planning on blowing up the
Evansville plant? Why? For what purpose?"
The man had his face in his hands and was still crying softly. He
shook his head and spoke through his hands in a muffled voice. "No.
The DIA didn't. That was Jeffries. I ... I sold the system to them."
Mulder couldn't believe it. Couldn't believe the arrogance of the man.
"You double crossed the DIA? What made you think you could get
away with it?"
No answer was forthcoming. He stood straight and stepped back a
foot or two. Then said, "Dr. Burgos, you'll be confined to your room.
You'll have an agent inside and one outside the door. You'll make no
attempt to contact anyone or leave. Do you understand?"
The man nodded, as if deathly weary. Looked up finally to look
directly at him. "I understand."
He turned to leave but then thought of something else and turned back.
"Dr. Burgos."
"Yes?"
"I wasn't supposed to make it out of that bath house in the park alive,
was I?"
The man didn't answer, but he didn't need to. The answer was clear.
He turned to the doorway and pushed past the two agents who were
already moving towards Burgos. He was completely drained, couldn't
even raise his head, and he stumbled slightly just as he reached the
doorway. He felt hands gripping both his arms and realized after a few
moments that Skinner and Scully were leading him over to the couch.
He allowed it, offering no objections, and sank down into the softness
gratefully, resting his head back against the cushions.
He closed his eyes and breathed deeply, aware of movement and noise
around him, but unable to generate the interest or energy necessary to
open his eyes and actually find out who was doing what.
He must have faded out for a while because the next thing he knew,
Scully was shaking his shoulder, telling him to wake up. He opened
his eyes to discover he was lying on the couch, on his side and the
room was dark except for a light in the corner.
"Hey, Mulder, you with me?"
He blinked and yawned, then tried to push himself up to a sitting
position. "What time is it?"
His partner was crouched down beside the couch and moved to sit next
to him as he sat up. She said, "It's time to get up and come get
something to eat."
He shot her a disgusted look and she finally said, "It's a little after
seven-thirty. You slept for about four hours. We're going to eat now.
Come on and join us."
He rubbed at his face to try to wake himself up a bit more then looked
back at her. She looked tired.
"Did you get a chance to sleep, Scully?"
She smiled a bit and said, "Yes. I just woke up myself. I think Rand's
still out of it -- somewhere."
He nodded and tried to decide whether he had the energy to stand or
not. Scully pushed herself off the couch and reached a hand down
towards him. "Come on, partner. Let's go eat."
He couldn't help the smile that made its way to his face. God, she was
incredible. She had to be as tired as he was but there she stood,
offering her strength and support. He reached his hand out to grab
hers and let her pull him up. He groaned as he stood straight and tried
to stretch his back out. The couch had to have been at least two feet too
short for him.
"Come on, Scully. What are you waiting for? I'm starving."
*******************************************
Skinner watched his agents come into the kitchen and was relieved to
see that they seemed to be alert and at least somewhat rested. He'd
been concerned at Mulder's earlier collapse. His agents had been
driving themselves too hard but he felt powerless to rein them in. They
were just doing their jobs, after all. On an assignment that he'd given
them himself.
"Agent Scully. Agent Mulder. How are you?"
They both nodded and said 'fine' simultaneously, then turned to each
other and smiled. Mulder pulled a chair out for his partner then slipped
into the one next to it. He waited for both his agents to get settled
before filling them in.
"I've got a team looking into the names you recovered from Jeffries.
Nothing yet. Rick's overseeing that investigation. We're also tracking
down some of the key research scientists and engineers who worked at
Jeffries. A little progress there. We have some of their names now,
but they've all disappeared. We're trying to track them down. Rand
got some of his people at the NSA started on the DIA link before he
headed upstairs to rest. He asked that we wake him around eight. He
said they should have something for us by then. We've got the
National Guard ready and waiting. We're coordinating the evacuation
to correspond to our take-over of the plant. We don't want to initiate
anything prematurely. We're planning on hitting it first thing in the
morning."
His agents seemed to be taking it all in. Considering what he'd said.
Mulder nodded and looked at him, then asked, "Do we have any plans
on the system that was installed in the Evansville plant? Do we know
what it's supposed to do?"
He shook his head and responded, "No. We haven't been able to track
down any details. We're hoping that information will be available at
the plant. We might need to bring Burgos with us to ... disable it."
Just then, Rick wandered in. He took a hard, long look at Mulder and
Scully and walked over to them, resting his hands on their shoulders.
"Hey guys, how are you feeling?"
Skinner was surprised at the fact that neither of his agents seemed to
mind the physical proximity or contact initiated by the older agent. In
fact, they both smiled easily and looked up at him, then traded
comfortable greetings. The Virginia agent slapped them both on their
backs lightly then moved around the table to join them. Rick nodded
towards him as the man sank into a chair and he smiled back. Rick
hadn't changed in all these years. He was still easy going and relaxed,
but hard as steel in a tense and dangerous situation. He was pleased
the man was here and even more pleased that his agents had someone
they could turn to without awkwardness if needed.
Skinner glanced down at his watch and decided they might as well get
Rand up to join them. He waved at an agent by the door and sent him
off to collect the NSA agent, then turned back to the table.
"Agents, we need to make a few plans here. Review what we know to
date so there won't be surprises tomorrow."
Mulder inserted, "Sir, I'm concerned with the DIA connection. Do we
know to what extent they were involved in the development of this
system and for what purpose? And if they were involved in the
development, is it possible they really had nothing to do with the
Jeffries connection? Maybe they also have someone who knows the
system and we should get them involved."
"I think that has to wait for Rand's intelligence. He's been working on
just those questions."
Just then, the NSA agent stepped through the door and said, "And I've
got some answers for you." The man slipped into the free chair and
glanced around the table. Then added, "So where's the grub? I
thought there was gonna be food at this meeting."
Skinner shook his head and stood, then moved over to a pile of bags
on the kitchen counters. Another agent moved to help him and food
was distributed quickly. He looked down the table at the NSA agent
and asked, with only a hint of sarcasm, "Is this going to be all right for
you for now?"
The other man grinned at him and said, "It'll do. Not exactly what I'm
used to, you know?"
Mulder had evidently lost patience because he inserted, "Rand, you
said you had something on the DIA connection. Can you fill us in
please? And start by telling us why the Defense Intelligence Agency,
whose stated purpose is to keep track of foreign defense threats, would
be sponsoring developmental research."
Skinner watched the NSA agent turn serious as he responded. "The
DIA does keep track of all scientific and engineering developments in
foreign countries that might be construed as potential threats. It turns
out though, that sometimes they get wind of something going down
somewhere that they think is important enough to pursue here in the
States. They handle this a variety of ways."
The man shifted in his seat somewhat uncomfortably. Skinner could
swear the man looked almost embarrassed. "The thing is that the
Intelligence Community higher ups have this little fund. It crosses
agency bounds, crosses all arms of the defense community. Sort of a
little savings account for a rainy day. So the IC honchos occasionally
hear about some technology that's being developed in, say Russia in
the old days, and they dip into their little fund, pass the money through
some agency like DARPA or NSF or even more directly through the
DoD, then make sure they get the right people to develop their toy. It's
been going on for many, many years."
The man shrugged his shoulders and said, "I have to admit, I didn't
know about it until the DIA connection surfaced. My boss filled me in
on the details. Well, as many details as we're likely to get."
Rand glanced around the table then cleared his throat and continued.
"So, it seems that way back in the seventies, the DIA got wind of some
Artificial Intelligence work going on in Russia that would eventually
lead to something like this system. They reported to all the right people
who then decided we had to have one too. So the money was funneled
through a variety of agencies to make it happen. And here we are."
There was silence at the table for several long moments. Everyone had
stopped eating during Rand's overview. Skinner broke the silence
finally by asking, "So just how involved are they? Do they have
people who might actually understand the system? Could they help us?
And do they know now that the system was used in the planned
destruction of the Hampton plant?"
Rand leaned forward and dropped his sandwich on a plate in front of
him. Wiped his hands on a napkin, then finally responded. "I'm
pretty sure the NIA acted as brokers, basically. They paid for it,
facilitated the development, wanted access to the system at the end, but
they didn't have people who were heavily involved personally in the
development. Only Burgos. So I doubt they could help. As to
whether they knew about Jeffries and the Hampton plant ... I haven't
been able to determine. But they sure know now. And they are not
pleased, to say the least."
Skinner nodded and looked around the table at his agents and Rick.
Scully had been pretty quiet during Rand's briefing but now appeared
as if she might speak.
"Agent Scully, did you have a question or comment?"
He watched as she fingered her napkin, then raised her eyes to him.
"Sir, it still begs the question. Why would Jeffries do this in the first
place? What do they get out of it?"
He saw Mulder nodding next to her and sensed movement to his left.
Turned to see that Rick was also nodding.
Rick said, "We haven't really been able to figure out just what they're
about. The company has layers upon layers of organizational structure,
but we haven't yet been able to determine who actually owns it. It's
clear that they're legitimate in at least most of what they do. It's just
this little extra project they had going on behind closed doors. But it's
a crucial question. Why would they want to blow up a nuclear power
plant? Where's the profit?"
Mulder inserted, "It depends on how they judge the profit, doesn't it?
It probably has nothing to do with traditional definitions."
Scully quickly jumped into the fray. "We can't be sure of that, Mulder.
Money and power are generally the primary reasons for why people
break the law. And particularly the reasons that companies do."
"Yes, but I still see no possible way the company could make money
by blowing up a nuclear power plant. It just doesn't make sense."
There was silence again that appeared likely to go on for a while and it
made Skinner tired. Just the thought that there were still so many
unknowns so very close to when the operation was going down. It
was disturbing. Unsettling. And he could tell his agents were
disturbed by these unknowns as well.
He glanced down at his watch and said, "The reality is that there's not a
lot we can do about it right now. It's about eight-thirty. We have
teams checking into every possible link that might exist that could shed
light on this situation. Rand's got his people doing the same. But
regardless of what we discover, we're still going into the plant
tomorrow morning at eight a.m. and we're starting the evacuation at
that time as well. We'll be leaving here by seven to be in place at the
right time. So all we can do is rest. There's no preparation for what
we'll be doing tomorrow, agents."
He saw Mulder open his mouth as if he were going to speak and then
close it again. He could tell that Scully was thinking hard, forehead
creased in concentration. Rand was playing with a fork, his entire
attention seemingly on the molded plastic in his hands. None of them
wanted to admit that there was nothing for them to do. But Skinner
had learned long ago that you have to pick your battles. And let those
you're destined to lose go without a waste of valuable energy and time.
There was nothing for them to do now. His agents needed to
understand that.
"I think it's important that everyone get some rest tonight. I don't
know what's going to happen tomorrow, but we need to be ready for
anything. And that means we all need to be well rested."
Mulder again appeared ready to object, but ended up remaining silent.
Scully pushed her plate away and looked at him, then nodded her
understanding and acceptance. She looked over to her partner and
said, "Come on, Mulder. Let's go fight over the best bedroom."
He was relieved to see his agent smile at his partner's words. Mulder
turned towards him then and said, "I still don't like it, sir. I don't think
we know enough. I'm worried we've missed something crucial here
and it's going to come back to bite us."
"I know, Mulder, believe me. And if you have some other suggestion
on how to run things, then please tell me. But as it is, this seems to be
the reasonable and prudent approach."
He waited while his agent struggled with the reality of the situation and
was sorry to see the slump in the shoulders and the obvious frustration.
He'd hoped over the past days and week that he'd never have to see
that look on his agent's face again.
"Sleep well, agents. We'll get up by five tomorrow. Run a briefing
from five-thirty to about six-thirty. Leave by seven."
*******************************************
Scully looked at her watch once more. A little after one in the morning.
This was torture. They were supposed to be getting up to start
reviewing plans for operation in less than four hours. She hadn't been
able to sleep at all and doubted there was going to be any rest in her
near future. She threw back the blanket and forced herself to sit on the
edge of the bed. Every bone protested. Every muscle joined in,
evidently feeling left out. She was either getting older or this was a
really uncomfortable bed. She punched at the mattress a few times and
decided maybe it was a bit of both.
She pushed herself up and out of the bed, then moved to her suitcase to
grab a sweatshirt and jeans. Might as well see if anyone was stirring.
And if not, it wouldn't hurt to read through the rest of those journal
papers she'd been putting off.
She opened the door and listened, nodded to the guard who stood
outside Burgos' door, then padded down the stairs to the living room.
Her socks were slippery on the old hardwood floors and she had to
keep her head down to make sure she didn't take a tumble. She didn't
see her partner until she was partway across the living room floor. His
voice echoed out in the quiet, catching her by surprise, even though he
was obviously trying to speak softly.
"Hey, Scully. What are you doing up?"
She jerked to a halt, slipping just slightly on the floor and put her right
hand up to her chest. "Jesus, Mulder. Are you trying to stunt my
growth, scaring me like that?"
He seemed to be fighting between apology and laughter as he said, "I
didn't mean to startle you. It looked like you were going to walk past
me without even seeing I was here. What happened to those razor-
sharp, finely honed powers of observation, Dr. Scully?"
She merely grinned, now over her temporary shock. She could
certainly see the irony and besides, anything that brought an honest
smile to her partner's face was worth it. She turned around and moved
over to the couch, sinking onto it in much the same position as the
other night. Her partner was once again sitting sideways, left arm
draped across the back. This time, though, she could tell he held
something in his right hand, mostly hidden.
"What have you got there, Mulder?"
He glanced down at his own hand and then back to her face. Tilted his
head to the right just a bit and smiled a smile that she could only
describe as being self-conscious. She had just decided he wasn't going
to show her when he raised his hand, turned it palm up, and opened his
fingers. She saw it then and her breath caught in surprise. Her eyes
flew to his face, took in the now self-deprecating grin, then went back
down to his hand.
She reached her left hand out to touch the smooth glass paperweight.
The one she'd given him the year before. What in the world was he
doing with it here? Her fingers brushed over it, lightly brushing over
his own as well before dropping back to her lap. She looked up at him
again, curious now.
"You brought this with you."
It wasn't really a question, although she still couldn't figure out what
had motivated her partner's actions. She looked down again at the
crystal that had the words inscribed on the bottom. The words they'd
come to adopt as their own mantra. 'The Truth Will Save Us'.
"I always do, Scully."
Her eyes flew to his face again and she felt tears come to her eyes
unbidden. She swallowed past the tightness in her throat and asked,
her voice barely a whisper, "Why, Mulder?"
She watched as he dropped his head to look down at the paperweight in
his hand. His thumb caressed the engraving in a way that made it clear
to her just how many times he'd made the same motion in the past.
She moved just enough on the couch so she could rest her right arm
along the back and once more laid her hand over his, entwining fingers
lightly.
"Why have you been carrying it with you, Mulder?"
He looked up at her finally and she was surprised to see that he seemed
to be struggling against tears himself. He cleared his throat and finally
responded, even while he dropped his gaze once more, "As a
reminder, I suppose."
She squeezed his fingers a bit, letting him know that she wanted to hear
what he had to say.
"A reminder of how precious life is. And how fickle the fates can be."
They both smiled at that and he raised his head so she could once more
see his face. The smile was back, but it seemed to be a legitimate one.
Her partner took a deep breath and then went on.
"I guess I bring it with me so that late at night when it seems there's no
one alive but me I can pull it out and remember there's at least one other
person out there somewhere. One other person who believes that the
Truth is actually attainable."
She felt the tears well once more but fought against them. Damn, why
was she being so emotional? And then she remembered back to the
morning when a watch alarm interrupted her from being as honest with
her partner as he had been with her. She could be brave, too. It was
time to be brave.
"Mulder, you're not alone. I'm here and I'll always be here. And I do
believe."
She swallowed again, fighting with herself to take this step, but her
partner started speaking before she could.
"I know that, Scully."
She was surprised when he released her right hand and reached
towards the curtains on the window, moving them out of the way. He
was looking out the window into the dark night. It was clear and the
stars were bright with no city lights nearby to detract from their
brilliance.
Her partner turned back to her briefly and asked, "Do you remember
when you asked me once if I'd found what I was looking for and I said
no? But I'd found something I thought I'd lost."
Together, their voices said, "Faith to keep looking."
She smiled at him, then nodded, remembering those terrifying days all
too clearly.
He said, "I think I've found it again, Scully. I still don't know what to
believe. Whether there are such things as EBE's or whether it's all
been a government conspiracy. I don't have the slightest idea. But I'm
willing to believe that anything is possible. And that the Truth exists.
And I believe we can find it, Scully. Together."
She nodded again, suddenly unable to speak. She wanted to speak.
She wanted to tell her partner ... What? What did she want to tell him?
"Scully, look out here." He was pointing out the window and she had
to get on her knees and lean over to see out. He leaned forward as well
so that she could feel his breath against her neck. Against her left ear.
And she could barely breathe but she didn't know why. She felt his
right arm then, against her back and his left was gesturing again to the
right and up.
"Do you see the Big Dipper?"
His breath was a soft puff against her hair and neck. She moved
forward slightly and followed his finger, then nodded. Leaned back
again as she said, "Yes."
"Now look to the south of the Big Dipper. Do you see the three sets of
two stars there?"
"Yes. I see them. What are they?"
She turned to look at him and discovered he had turned his head
towards her as well, leaving them mere inches from each other. He
was smiling as he sat back a little and said, "There's an ancient legend
that calls that part of the sky between the Great Bear and Leo the Lion
'The Pond'. In the legend, the Gazelle takes three leaps across the
shallow pond to evade the slashing of the Lion's tail."
He moved closer to the window again and pointed to the upper most set
of stars. He was leaning lightly against her back now as she also
turned to see where he was pointing.
"There's the first leap. The second. And there's the third. Together,
they're called the Three Leaps of the Gazelle. You can only see them
on exceptionally clear nights."
She turned her head once more to look at her partner and asked, "What
happened to the Gazelle? Did it get away from the Lion's tail?"
He laughed at the question in what sounded like honest delight. "I
don't know. The more morbid of astronomers would say that he
probably leapt away from the Lion's tail and right into the Bear's
gaping maw. I like to think it leapt right past all danger and ran off into
the night safely."
She smiled even more broadly at the look of enchantment so prevalent
on her partner's face as he stared up into the night sky.
"Mulder, you better be careful or you might be accused of being a
romantic."
He dropped back suddenly against the end of the couch as if shot, then
put his left hand to his chest dramatically.
"A fate worse than death, Scully. Please. Don't even suggest such a
thing."
Their laughter was interrupted by a throat being noisily cleared a few
feet away.
"Agents, sorry to bother you. I heard voices and thought I'd see who
was up."
Her boss stood at the foot of the stairs, somewhat uneasily if she was
any judge.
"Hello, sir. Sorry if we woke you."
"No, no. I wasn't asleep."
She moved to sit on the couch again, even as her partner did, then
gestured towards a chair. "Would you like to join us, sir?"
He moved into the room then and sank down into the old rocking chair.
She was surprised at the loud sigh he released.
Skinner looked at both of them, then said, "I know why I'm up. Why
are you two up? You should both be exhausted after the excitement of
the last few days."
She turned to her partner, willing to defer, but he was just shrugging
his shoulders. She sighed herself before turning back to her boss.
"I'm a bit too wired, sir. I doubt I'll be able to sleep much. And
Mulder was just entertaining me with his knowledge of arcane
astronomical facts."
Her partner snorted softly beside her and she risked a quick glance in
his direction. She saw that he was playing with the paperweight in
both hands now, eyes staring down at the words engraved on the
bottom.
She turned back to her boss to discover him watching Mulder, eyes
flicking between her partner's face and the object in his hands.
"What is that, Mulder?"
Her partner jerked a bit as he realized his boss' question was directed
towards him, then licked his lips somewhat nervously. Glanced at her
before looking back at their boss.
"It's ..." He sighed heavily then and admitted, "It's a paperweight
Scully gave me last year." Mulder raised it in his hands, shifted it to
his right and leaned forward, offering it to their boss on his open palm.
And it amazed her. Mulder was sharing this with Skinner. Not that
she minded. Not at all. It was just that she hadn't imagined that her
partner would ever open himself up to someone else. And she was
oddly happy by it. Her partner trusted Skinner. Trusted him enough
to let him see the this thing that was so important to them both.
Skinner took the crystal paperweight almost reverently, obviously
aware of just how much it meant to his agent. He turned it one way,
then the other. Ran his thumb over the letters, even as Mulder had
minutes before. Then smiled at Mulder as he handed it back.
"It's beautiful. Delicate and hard all at once. And I'd like to think the
Truth will save us all."
She was delighted by the smile that reached all the way to her partner's
eyes, lit his face and softened his features. Mulder was staring down at
the paperweight that once more resided in his cupped palms as if the
answers to the universe could be found within. And perhaps they
could.
*******************************************
Thursday, 5:02 a.m.
Virginia, Farm House Outside Evansville
Rick couldn't remember ever being so tired. He'd suffered through
sleepless all-nighters in school. Had been involved in cases that had
required round the clock investigation by a variety of agents. Had
survived the terrible twos not once, not twice, but three times, with yet
another child trying to wear him down unsuccessfully over the past
couple months. But this case... This God forsaken case... Nothing
could compare to both the psychological and physical ups and downs
he'd experienced on this case.
How did Mulder and Scully handle this on a regular basis? This was
evidently normal for them. Gods above, it was insane. Crazy people
funded by the Federal Government to build a device that was later used
as a trigger for an explosion that could kill tens of thousands of
innocents. Cover-ups, false trails, secret agents, black fucking cars
with Men in Black inside. Burning buildings, disappearing evidence,
dead bodies, and kidnappings. Where in the world would it all end?
And through it all, Walt just continued on. Continued to trust and aid
his agents any way he could. And nothing seemed to phase him. No
wonder the man was an AD.
Rick stretched, loathe to actually get out of the bed. There was a safety
here, under the covers. Maybe if he closed his eyes and pulled the
blanket up high enough to cover his head, it would all just go away.
Yeah. Right.
He threw the blanket aside almost violently and decided to make sure
everyone was up. Today was not the day for anyone to sleep in. He
glanced down and decided his sweats and Tee-shirt weren't likely to
frighten anyone too much. Then opened the door and headed into the
hall. He paused a moment and looked up and down, taking in the fact
that no other doors were open.
At the end of the hall, an agent stood outside Burgos' door at attention.
He nodded towards the man, then headed to the Walt's room. He
knocked softly then opened the door when there was no answer. He
quickly determined the man wasn't there, so moved on to Mulder's
room. Repeated the process. Again discovered no one home.
Recognizing the chances that Scully was actually in her room were
going to be slight, he went ahead and knocked anyway. He was a bit
more leery in opening her door, but did so anyway, almost relieved to
discover she was also absent.
He headed for the steps then and took them quietly. It was still dark
out and when he got to the living room, he was almost surprised to
discover a light on. He saw Mulder immediately, sort of stretched in a
sitting/lying combination at the closest end of the couch, and then
realized the red-headed bundle lying curled with its head against
Mulder's leg must be Scully. He took a few more steps into the room
and saw Walt fast asleep in a rocking chair in what had to be an
incredibly uncomfortable position.
God, he hated to wake them. But there was really no choice in the
matter. He moved to his old boss and shook the man lightly while
whispering his name, "Hey Walt. Time to wake up."
Skinner opened his eyes and seemed to become aware almost
immediately. His eyes slid to the left and Rick could tell the AD was
taking in his agents' proximity to one another. The left side of Walt's
lips raised just slightly and he was pretty darn sure the man was
smiling. And then Walt was looking back at him and asked in a low
voice, "What time is it?"
"It's just after five."
Walt nodded and sat forward, rubbed his face, then pushed himself out
of the chair gingerly. He stood with both hands on his back and tried
to stretch out the kinks. Then raised one hand to his neck and rubbed
for a moment. The AD walked towards the couch then and stopped
just a foot away. Stood staring down at his two agents for what
seemed an eternity, even though Rick knew it was no more than twenty
seconds at most. He couldn't begin to know what was passing
through the man's mind.
Walt leaned towards Mulder then and picked something up off the
couch next to the still slumbering agent. Placed it on the table next to
the couch as if the item were worth a fortune. Walt raised his hand to
Mulder's shoulder then and Rick could see how gentle the older man
was when he shook his agent awake.
Mulder woke much more slowly than Walt had and seemed to be
disoriented for a moment. Walt must have said something to the man,
because he could see Mulder nod before sitting up. Then Walt moved
away from the couch and Mulder leaned to his left, placed his left arm
along the back of the couch and moved his right to caress his partner's
face.
It was the only word Rick could use to describe it. The man raised his
hand, gently freed several stray hairs from Scully's face and moved
them back out of the way. He watched as the younger agent repeated
the gesture and was sure that Mulder had no idea what he was doing.
Had no idea how gently he touched his partner's hair. No idea of the
smile that lit his face while he was doing it. No idea even of how
unnecessary it was to move the hair from Scully's face in order to wake
her. And especially no idea how closely he was being watched.
Rick turned his gaze to Skinner, wondering how the man was taking
this and was surprised to find the AD looking at him instead.
"Come on, Rick. Let's get ready. And could you wake up Rand? I'll
make sure the rest of the team up and functional as well."
He could feel the flush spread across his face and felt as if he'd been
caught at voyeurism. But Walt just slapped him on the arm and said,
"See you in about a half hour, Rick."
He watched as the man left the room and headed out himself. But
before he went up the stairs, he looked back into the living room one
last time. Mulder was leaning over his partner, evidently whispering
something softly. He smiled then and realized that for the first time
during this crazy case, his heart was oddly light.
*******************************************
They were meeting in the barn, the only location large enough to
accommodate the twenty some agents involved in the morning's
upcoming operation. There were another four or five cops and military
personnel who were acting as liaisons. Skinner glanced around the
grim faces and gestured for silence. He stood with legs shoulder
width, hands on hips. He could feel his weapon brushing against the
thumb and forefinger on his right hand and it was reassuring.
"As you all know, in a little over a half hour we'll be setting out for the
Evansville Nuclear Power plant. The plant has been rigged with a
device that has the capability of engaging itself to initiate a disaster. We
do not know whether it will do this as a result of a preprogrammed
deadline, at random, or in response to some triggering mechanism. We
do know, however, that time is short and we can't wait around to find
out the answer to that question or it will be too late."
He again panned his gaze around the men and women facing him,
pausing briefly to the right where his agents, Rick and Rand stood.
"We have coordinated our entry to the plant to correspond to an
evacuation of the outlying areas that might potentially be impacted."
He gestured to his left where a man in outfitted in military fatigues
stood patiently, another man dressed similarly behind him.
"Major Allen and Sergeant McCain have been working with us on the
details of the evacuation. They will give the order to initiate
proceedings as we arrive at the plant. It is estimated that the evacuation
will take no more than two hours. The National Guard has been
briefed and ready to move since last night and they've been keeping
track of who's where. It will happen quickly and will, hopefully,
come as a surprise to anyone who might be behind the installation of
the system in the plant."
He paused, allowing everyone the time to understand what was being
said. Allowing them the time to raise questions. There were none.
"We will arrive at a location approximately seven minutes from the
plant and wait until precisely 7:52 a.m., at which time we will head to
the plant. Major Allen has arranged for overhead surveillance.
Helicopters will be on-site, but will remain away from the plant until
the last minute. Roadblocks will be set up precisely at 7:55 a.m. We
will arrive at the plant at 8:00 a.m., at which time our on-site
surveillance team will make their move to secure the buildings. We
will assist in this endeavor."
He took in the nervous faces, the glances that shot from agent to agent.
He knew what they were thinking. Knew they were scared. Hell, he
was petrified himself. But this system fell under the rubric of terrorism
and national security. He knew that none of these men and women
ever imagined they'd be asked to place themselves inside a nuclear
power plant that was destined to blow, but it was their jobs. And
they'd do it and do it well.
He glanced over to his right again and saw that his agents hadn't
changed position. Were still waiting patiently. Waiting for him to
finish so they could get going. He shifted his stance, folded his arms
across his chest, then continued the briefing.
"You already know your assignments and you know your team
leaders. You'll break up into cars to correspond with the team you're
in. Make sure your eyes and ears are operational, your vests are
secure, and your weapons are loaded. Do it now."
Even as he glanced around the barn, he checked to make sure his own
vest was secured. Checked the mike at his wrist and the earpiece that
fit snugly in his right ear. Checked to make sure the small camera
attached to his vest had an unobstructed view. Eyes and ears looked
good. He knew the techies would be checking each agent's
transmissions from the van, but figured this was as good a time as any
to do the physical check. He could tell that everyone had settled again
so asked, "Any questions?"
There were none. Good. He glanced at his watch and decided it was
time to head out.
"Get to your vehicles, ladies and gentlemen."
He turned to the cluster of people to his right and nodded at them.
They'd decided to break their own group into two teams with Skinner,
Mulder, Rand and the Major in one, and Scully, Rick, the Sergeant
and the local police chief in the other. He knew Mulder and Scully
weren't pleased by the situation but they'd agreed it made the most
sense. The fact was, he wasn't really happy about it either.
"All right, agents, let's move out. See you at the other end."
He said the last to Rick and Scully, then started moving towards the car
his team would be using for the drive. Because of the dispersement
plan once they arrived at the plant, his car would be fifth in the convoy.
Scully and Rick would be in the first car since they would be circling
around the plant to enter from the back.
He got to the car and looked around for the rest of the team. Rand was
already circling to enter the backseat and the Major was on the way, but
Mulder was still speaking with his partner some twenty feet away. He
gave them the time, knowing that thirty seconds wouldn't possibly
change anything. He saw Mulder reach his hand up to Scully's
shoulder and lean towards her, obviously saying something. Then his
agent moved back, dropped his hand and turned. Scully still stood for
a few moments, watching her partner head to the car. Then she turned
and entered her own vehicle.
He caught his agent's eye as Mulder got to the car and tried to convey
some feeling of reassurance. It wasn't the easiest thing he'd ever done,
though, since he was suddenly consumed by a feeling of imminent
disaster looming near. He shook his head and got in behind the wheel.
Started the car and pulled into the line. He could see a flash of red hair
in the first car.
He glanced in the rearview mirror to see Rand staring out the passenger
side window somewhat morosely. And behind him, Mulder sat with
head back and eyes closed. He closed his own eyes briefly, then
concentrated on the car ahead of them. It wouldn't be much longer
now.
*******************************************
Some fifteen minutes later they got the call they'd all dreaded. Skinner
couldn't believe they'd heard it correctly at first.
"Say again, base. Say again."
The voice that came across the static filled transmission belonged to
Sam Alexander, who'd been heading up the on-site surveillance team.
They'd been in place since last night, watching the plant to make sure
nothing unusual was happening before the operation.
"We have alarms and klaxons. Personnel are evacuating. Something
has definitely happened."
Skinner slammed his hand into the steering wheel and glanced at his
watch. They were just approaching the parking lot where they'd
planned on waiting for another ten minutes or so, but that plan was
now out the window.
"Let's go. Sirens on. All cars, let's go. Maximum safe speed."
He was frustrated now at being confined to the fifth spot. The reason
for that had apparently now become unnecessary. He glanced in the
rearview and saw that Mulder was sitting up straight, tense and alert.
He looked over to the Major to find the man speaking into a walkie
talkie. He could barely make out the words over the noise of the now
blaring sirens.
"What the hell do you mean, they jumped the gun?! They were
supposed to wait for our signal. Find out who's responsible and
relieve him of command. Take him to headquarters and sit on him."
The man turned to him and said, "Some fucking eager beaver started
the evac early. God damn it! I'll kill the bastard myself if he's
screwed this up."
Skinner shook his head and concentrated on the road. A voice came
over their internal comm system then and Skinner once more
recognized Alexander.
"We grabbed a couple of the employees to find out what's happening.
Evidently the plant manager called for the evac following an alert of the
diagnostic system of imminent meltdown. They claim the doors will
lock up in five minutes from alarm initiation."
There was a breathless silence as everyone in the convoy did a quick
calculation. Then Alexander was speaking again.
"Sir, that gives us about two minutes at most. What are your orders?"
Skinner managed a quick, "Hold for a second", then thought hard.
They wouldn't make it in time. He glanced to the right. The Major
was shaking his head at him. Glanced in the rearview. Rand was
sitting forward with arms propped on his knees, head in his hands.
Mulder was staring straight at him, though.
"We aren't going to make it, are we?"
"I don't see how, Mulder. Recommendations, anyone? Do I send a
team into the plant or not?"
There was silence for another ten or fifteen seconds and the pressure
became almost unbearable. Then Mulder spoke again.
"Can we find out if any plant personnel have remained behind? As
long as there's someone on the inside we can communicate with, I
don't see a need for our people to be there. But we have to have
someone inside if we're going to try to get the system dismantled."
Skinner nodded, thankful for the suggestion and requested the
information from Alexander. He glanced down at the speedometer and
was alarmed to discover they were traveling at close to ninety miles an
hour. If any of the vehicles in front of them had a problem, they'd all
be dead. He fought down the urge to slow up and continued on,
praying for a quick response from Alexander.
"Sir, the plant manager has stayed behind. Evidently he ordered
everyone else out."
"All right, Alexander. Try to ensure there's a means of communicating
with him and then hold. Do not enter. Repeat, do not send your team
in."
"Affirmative, sir."
Skinner tried to swallow but discovered it was a damned difficult thing
to do when there was no spit in your mouth. The plant was just ahead
and to the right, clearly in sight. But he didn't see how they'd make it
there before the door's closed. Not that it really mattered anyway.
It was almost impossible to see any of the cars ahead of them except for
the fourth in line. A cloud of dust was being churned up by the convoy
and he was sure it only worsened the farther down the line you got.
But then he saw the first car, quite clearly off to the right, only a
hundred yards or so from the plant's entrance. Evidently the police
chief had stepped on it. Then the car was obscured once more as they
made the turn themselves.
Alexander was on-line once more then.
"Doors are closing in approximately thirty seconds. Repeat, thirty
seconds."
He made the turn into the driveway and then the parking lot, aiming
straight for the path leading to the front door. He could see now that
the head car was already stopped and Scully and Rick were getting out.
And then he didn't understand what he was seeing. It appeared that
they were running for the door of the plant.
He was only seconds away from pulling to a stop himself and heard a
choking sound from the back. Then Mulder sputtered, "What are they
doing? What the hell are they doing?!"
He slammed on the brakes and even as the car was still skidding to a
stop heard the back door opening. He was out himself only seconds
after, running after his agent.
Mulder was about ten feet ahead of him and pulling away. There were
four or five tiers that led to the entrance to the plant, each with some
twenty or thirty steps leading up to the next level. He could see that
Scully and Rick were already almost to the top tier and the door was
starting to close. Alexander was standing beside it, yelling, and
Skinner knew his words were directed towards Scully and Rick.
It was obvious that there was no way he was going to make it in time.
And no matter how fast Mulder ran, his agent wasn't going to make it
either. Mulder must have realized it because he slowed a bit and yelled
out, "Scully! What the fuck are you doing!? Stop! Scully!!"
He couldn't see his agent's face, but could tell from the cracking voice
that the man was close to tears. Of frustration. Of terror. Of horror.
They were both still running and Skinner had to continue glancing
down to make sure he didn't kill himself on the stairs, but as he looked
up towards the entrance again he saw Scully pause and turn back. The
anguish on her face was clear, even as she ducked and rolled under the
closing door. Rick never looked back but threw himself forward and
rolled longways, just barely making it under before it slammed shut
with an ominous clang.
And Mulder was still running, but slowing. The man slammed up
against the closed door so hard Skinner was surprised he managed to
remain standing. He finally made it and slowed as he came up behind
Mulder. He could hear the man's voice saying over and over, just
barely above a gasping whisper, "Why? Scully, why?"
He leaned over for a second to try to catch his breath. Closed his eyes
but his agent's anguished face was still clear in his memory. He stood
up and waved Alexander away from the door. Then stepped closer to
grip Mulder's shoulder. But before he could say a word, the man
whirled away from the door and looked around, almost frantic now.
Mulder shouted, to everyone and no one, "Open the door. Open the
fucking door!"
Skinner leaned against the metal door and looked down at the ground.
Jesus, he couldn't do this. Why did he have to be the one? But he
knew it was his responsibility. Knew that Scully would want him to
be the one.
He cleared his throat and said clearly, "Agent Mulder, the door can not
be reopened unless the emergency has passed. You know that."
Mulder's eyes were almost wild, his breathing coming in sharp, hard
bursts. The man had turned back to him and stood with his arms out at
his side, hands turned inwards and up, palms open. And he could see
the truth settle over the man, as understanding set in. And the
shoulders dropped and the hands clenched. Mulder's face crumpled,
and for just a moment the man seemed lost.
He pushed away from the metal door and stepped towards his agent
once more. Mulder was already fighting to gain control, but he
couldn't determine just yet whether the man would win the struggle or
not. Mulder was still breathing hard from his sprint up the stairs and
the adrenaline pumping through his system.
Skinner took another step and turned sideways, wrapped his right arm
around his agent's shoulders and gripped the mans arms tightly.
"Mulder, this is not over yet. Do you hear me? This is not over by a
long shot. Don't give up on your partner now."
His agent nodded and he could feel the shoulders tense. He dropped
his arm from the slightly shaking shoulders, but retained the grip on
Mulder's left arm. He shook just a bit to get the man's attention, then
dropped his hand, saying, "Scully needs you to work the problem from
out here. She and Rick made the decision for us. It'll be up to us to
help them. Okay?"
Mulder was staring at him intently, mouth open and face coated in
sweat. The man nodded finally. Whispered, "Yes, sir." And Skinner
knew that his agent was back with them. Ready to throw himself into
the case just as he'd thrown himself against the door. With his entire
focus. His entire being. And Skinner had faith that the younger man's
determination and strength would see them all through.
*******************************************
Thursday, 8:07 a.m.
Evansville Nuclear Power Plant
Mulder sat on the top step, his arms propped on his bent legs, head
hanging down almost to his chest. He heard a scuffle, then saw feet in
front of him. He raised his head to see Agent Alexander standing there
with a phone extended out to him.
"We got communications up and running. Agent Scully's on the
phone."
He continued to stare at the man for a moment, squinting because of the
sun shining into his eyes. Glanced down at the phone and sighed.
Reached for it wearily and raised it to his ear. Licked his lips and
breathed deeply. Wondered what the hell he could possibly say.
"Mulder."
He heard the slight catch of breath at the other end. Could practically
see his partner's face. Could imagine the slight tremble of her lips,
even amidst the determination on her face. Could practically envision
the thrown back shoulders in a 'fuck you' stance. He smiled slightly
when she spoke.
"It's me."
"I know."
Ten seconds passed in agonizing slowness. Mulder finally whispered,
"Why? Why, Scully?"
Her voice trembled slightly when she answered. "I know the system,
Mulder. I've been studying the research for the past week. We needed
someone inside who has a chance at dismantling this thing. I was the
best person available. Can you understand?"
He dropped his head again and raised his left hand to his face.
Covered his eyes, then rubbed at them hard. Why was everything in
life so fucking hard?
"I understand, Scully. I do."
Her voice was small when she said, "I'm sorry, Mulder."
He fought against the tightness in his throat when he responded, "I am
too."
Silence reigned once more. He could hear her breathing on the other
end. He closed his eyes and listened, tried to memorize the sound.
Tried to ingrain it in a permanent record to be recalled at will.
She broke the silence finally by saying, "I have to go, Mulder. The
plant manager's here. He says we have about twelve hours. All
right?"
He took a shuddering breath and nodded. Realized the futility of his
gesture and said, "All right. I'll talk with you later, Scully."
He kept the phone to his ear, waiting for the click. Waiting for the
connection to be cut. But he heard her breathing still. Then she
whispered, "Later, Mulder." And then the dial tone cut in, signaling a
harsh and definitive end to their conversation.
He hit the talk button with his thumb, folded his arms loosely on his
upraised knees and dropped his head down to rest on them. He didn't
know what to do. Had no idea what his next move should be. He felt
like he'd been kicked. Ground into submission. Had his heart ripped
from his chest.
He didn't know how much time had passed, how long he'd sat there,
but someone was there next to him on the step, taking the phone from
his hand. He couldn't summon the energy to raise his head, couldn't
manage to sit up, despite the fact that time was critical.
A hand rested on his back and he immediately tensed, but still couldn't
bring himself to find out who it was that was with him. But then his
boss' voice was soft next to his ear and he knew.
"Mulder, we'll be meeting in ten minutes or so to try to figure out our
best course of action. I'd like you there, if you think you could
manage it."
There was no censure in the voice. No condemnation or reproach.
Only compassion. And kindness. He relaxed once more and was
thankful suddenly for the older man's companionship. For the soft
touch that let him know he wasn't alone.
He tried to speak, but ended up merely nodding instead, head still
resting on his arms. He knew he had to move soon. Scully was
counting on him. Skinner was counting on him. But he wasn't quite
ready yet.
"Do you mind if I sit here for a few minutes, Mulder? I can't believe
how tired I am and it's just barely eight thirty in the morning."
Mulder was touched. Was filled with gratitude towards this man who
sat next to him. This man who probably had to be five other places
right now but had chosen to come sit next to his agent. This man who
knew what he needed even better than he did himself at times. He
shook his head then and sank into the moment. Let himself go. Let his
mind blank. Let his body relax. Let himself believe that all things
were possible. Let himself believe that he had some power to make
things right. Gave into the belief and allowed it to encompass him.
And the hand on his back remained and gave him the courage to believe
in himself.
*******************************************
The meeting didn't last long. The realities were that there were very
few options. The evacuation was proceeding quickly and efficiently.
Within another half hour, there wouldn't even be a kitten left in the
area. They were frantically working to open a door into the plant on
the off chance that full evacuation of the area would be their only
eventual choice. Unfortunately, those doors had been designed with
the express purpose of staying closed. It would require time, but they
were hopeful it could be accomplished.
They also needed to know what exactly this system was programmed
to do, beyond what it had already done. They needed to know just
how to go about dismantling or disengaging it. But for that, they
needed an expert.
Skinner had just directed the captain flying one of the helicopters to go
retrieve Burgos when they got a static-filled call from the farmhouse.
"Say again. This is Skinner. Who is this?"
"It's Flajowsky. They've taken Burgos. Killed Sheridan. I'm hit.
Don't know who else is alive."
He resisted the urge to hit something and said calmly, "Hang on
Flajowsky. We've got a chopper coming your way. ETA ten minutes.
Just hold on and you'll be fine."
He gestured at the pilot and sent another couple agents along, even as
one of the cops called the emergency team.
"Flajowsky, how long ago did this happen? Can you tell me?"
The voice was obviously weakening, but the agent managed to say,
"About ten minutes ago. I was out for a little bit. Just came to."
"All right, Flajowsky. Just rest easy. Help's already on the way."
All then raised their arms to protect eyes from flying dirt and debris, as
the helicopter lifted and quickly set off towards the farmhouse. They
watched for a moment, and then Skinner said, "Now what? We were
counting on Burgos to help us with the system. We need someone
who knows it inside and out!"
He turned back to Mulder and Rand who stood to his left. It was
obvious he wasn't the only one who wanted to do violence. Both men
stood tensely, and he could see Mulder grinding his teeth, setting the
jaw rocking under tightly drawn skin.
Mulder turned to Rand and said, somewhat obliquely, "The Jeffries
scientists."
The NSA agent merely nodded grimly, then turned and strode away
without a word.
He locked gazes with his agent then and asked, "What else can we do,
Mulder?"
The younger man was stone-faced as he said, "Get that door open.
Rand can track down the ones who actually installed the system. I'm
gonna try and find Burgos."
He nodded agreement. Kept his focus on his agent for a long moment,
then said, "Just remember that Scully's counting on you to help her out
of this. Don't do anything reckless."
He saw the slight flinch and recognized that his words had hit home.
Mulder opened his mouth to speak, then closed it again. His shoulders
dropped just slightly as did his head. But he dragged his gaze back up
to his boss again and replied. "I'll be careful. And I'll be back. Don't
worry about that."
He could tell that Mulder was preparing to speak again and waited the
younger man out. His agent's voice was low, cracking with emotion,
as he said, "Get Scully out of there, sir. Please."
He could barely respond but managed a nod. Then watched as his
agent turned and headed for a car. Started jogging and then running for
it. He continued to watch as the car pulled out of the lot, through the
flashing lights of the various emergency vehicles, and eventually out of
view. And then he turned back to the crowd. Back to his duties. Back
to a situation quickly turning untenable.
*******************************************
Thursday, 9:52 a.m.
Outside Evansville Nuclear Power Plant, Temporary Command Center
"Sir! AD Skinner!"
Skinner turned towards the young agent calling for him and saw two
other men in tow. He stood patiently and nodded as the men stopped
in front of him. Both were older me, in their late fifties. Both were
dressed in conservative suits. Both wore badges, but of different
agencies.
The young agent who'd been acting as guide said, "Sir, these men are
from the Nuclear Regulatory Commission and the Federal Emergency
Management Agency. They've been working with Major Allen but
wanted to meet directly with you."
He nodded again, in acknowledgment this time, and said, "Thank
you." Then turned to the men and reached out his hand. "I'm AD
Walter Skinner with the Bureau."
The first man he shook with was slightly overweight with just the
beginnings of a paunch. His hair was mostly gray and just starting to
thin. A full beard and mustache was trimmed neatly and wire-rimmed
glasses completed the picture. The man said, "Roger Moog, with the
NRC. I've been working on this since last night."
The second man was almost the mirror image of Moog, but had a
smooth shaven face and slightly darker complexion. "I'm Cyrus Givi,
with FEMA."
"I'm glad you gentlemen are here. Do you think you could give me
and my team an overview of what we'll be dealing with here in terms
of emergency procedures?"
Both men nodded and looked at each other. Givi waved to Moog,
obviously deferring.
"We've classified this as a General Emergency, the most serious of
emergency classifications. We've already instituted appropriate Alert
and Notification Systems and the surrounding area up to a ten mile
radius has been evacuated. What we have here at Evansville is a
Pressurized Water Reactor, or PWR. That means it has three separate
cooling systems, with only the Reactor Coolant System having
radioactivity. The RCS -- or Reactant Coolant System -- consists of
four cooling loops connected to the Reactor, each one containing a
reactor coolant pump and steam generator. This is all within the
Containment Structure of the plant."
Skinner breathed deeply and tried to follow. He wasn't really sure he
needed this level of detail, though. "Gentlemen, could you explain
what all this means, please?"
Moog adopted a somewhat pained expression and then looked over at
Givi. The FEMA agent said, "You see, AD Skinner, the only way an
actual meltdown could occur -- the melting of the fuel in the reactor -- is
if there's an inability to remove heat from the fuel either by loss of
coolant in the RCS followed by a failure of the emergency core cooling
systems, or a failure of the reactor protection system to shut the reactor
down. Now if either of these things happen, we have what's called a
Class 9 accident. The worst. It would mean substantial radiation
leakage into the surrounding atmosphere. But for this to happen would
be incredible. It would require the failure of one redundant system
after another. The odds are essentially negligible."
Skinner was starting to feel impatient. "Yes, but as was explained to
your agencies previously, what we have installed in this plant is a
sensing and diagnostic system that has control over a variety of
systems that could actually lead to the types of failures you've
outlined."
Moog took up the discussion again then. "Yes, we know about that.
But the other thing that's important to realize is that even if there is a
meltdown, the release of any radioactive materials is unlikely to occur.
In fact, the only way this would happen is if there's a failure of the
containment structure."
Skinner felt his breath catch at this. Was it possible that even if disaster
did occur and a meltdown was triggered, his agents would still be safe?
No one would get hurt? It seemed incredible. He found his gaze
pulled to the containment facility.
"You're telling me that even in the event of a meltdown, people would
be safe?"
The two men glanced at each other and then Moog said, "Not
necessarily. It all depends on the containment structure. There are a
couple things that could cause the containment to be breached. One,
overpressure and two, a failure of the containment isolation system,
lines, and valves to close. Now there are several things that could
cause overpressure, including a steam explosion in the reactor vessel,
generation of gasses, or heating of the containment atmosphere due to
failure of the containment cooling and stray systems."
Skinner swallowed dryly and reached his right hand up to wipe the
sweat from his forehead. He still couldn't tell whether this was good
news or bad. Then he found out.
Moog continued. "The problem is that we've spoken extensively with
your agent on the inside. Agent Scully. She's filled us in on some of
the details of this system that's been installed here. And by the way,
the NRC never approved such an apparatus. The licensee never
obtained permission for such a change and violated 10 CFR 50.59 in
the process."
Skinner merely shook his head in irritation. He could care less about
regulations at this point. He waved his hand in a 'let's speed this up'
gesture and said, "Go on. What did you talk with Scully about?"
"According to your agent and details we've learned from the plant
manager, it seems entirely possible that the sensing system extends
beyond the RCS to the Containment Cooling Systems. This is not
good. Not at all."
Skinner took off his glasses and pinched the bridge of his nose tightly.
Damn this headache. Every time he thought it couldn't get any worse,
along came yet another disaster falling into his lap. He put his glasses
back on and focused on the men once more.
"You're saying that normally it would be all right but this sensing
system might cause a failure of the containment, allowing radiation to
escape."
"Yes, AD Skinner. That's correct."
He nodded again. Kept silent for several long moments while he
considered what he knew. "How long until meltdown?"
"What's happening here, according to your Agent Scully and the plant
manager, is a systematic loss of coolant in the RCS. It's occurring at a
rate commensurate with a meltdown in approximately ten hours, by
best estimate. Agent Scully is trying to determine just how integrated
the sensing system is with the Containment Cooling Systems."
He breathed deeply and nodded in understanding. There was
something else he had to know, though. "Why the sealed doors? I
want my agents out of there. I want to know how we can get to them."
The NRC representative licked his lips nervously and shifted from one
foot to the other. Then turned to the FEMA rep as if seeking help.
Givi finally replied, "It's a security issue. I'm afraid your agents are
there for the duration. Those doors aren't meant to be breached. Not
by anything. The good news is, that building's reinforced. It's not as
good as the containment facility -- the walls aren't as thick -- but ... it
might keep them safe in the event of a meltdown and containment
breach."
Skinner just stared for several long seconds. Then asked, "Might?"
The FEMA agent shrugged his shoulders and replied, "I'm sorry, AD
Skinner. A containment breach isn't supposed to happen. Ever."
Skinner turned and looked back at the building, thinking about Scully
and Rick, and even the plant manager. Hell, he didn't even know the
man's name. They'd just been saying 'the manager' as if he weren't
even important. He closed his eyes and sighed. Thought about his
other agent. Mulder was out there somewhere, searching for Burgos.
And his agent might very likely be their only chance at averting
disaster. He sent a silent prayer to whomever might be listening to
watch out for his agents. The ones encased behind solid steel doors
and the one searching for the means to release them.
*******************************************
The road in front of him winded its way through small towns and
deserted stretches of forest. Mulder looked down at his wrist yet
again. Things hadn't changed. Time was still moving at the same rate
as always, no matter how much he wanted it to slow. He pulled out
his phone and hit the precoded number, placed the phone to his ear and
waited not so patiently for the NSA agent to answer.
"Speak."
"Did you get it?"
"No. I struck out. You?"
"Not there yet. Another ten minutes or so. What about the other
teams?"
"No go on number two. Number three'll hit around the same time as
you."
He took in the information and interpreted what it all meant. They'd
come up with four possible locations for the primary scientist from
Jeffries who'd been working on the project. Rand's location and team
two's were busts. That left his and team three's location as possibles.
He nodded to himself, made a rolling stop at a stop sign, then went on
through it. "What about that other information?" They were trying
hard not to give anything away over the cell phones, but it was damned
difficult. And they didn't have a lot of time to waste on games at this
point.
"Nothing yet. Soon. Promise."
He sighed heavily, knowing the NSA agent had marshaled all his
resources for this one. They were trying to track down Burgos and
figured the best way was through recent Jeffries activity. Rand's
people were combing through all monetary transactions in the hopes of
discovering a link to what might pan out as a the company's equivalent
of a safe house where Burgos might be stashed.
"Okay. Thanks. I'll call you after I check out my possible."
"Take it easy."
Mulder shook his head as he punched in the disconnect button. The
man was irritatingly endearing. In small quantities. In large quantities,
Rand was just irritating. He picked up the piece of paper and glanced
once more at the address and instructions. He was almost there.
He took the next right and slowed, trying to determine whether the
house ahead was really as deserted as it looked. Unfortunately, he was
pretty sure it was. He parked well away from it and exited quietly.
Decided to circle around to the back. He moved quickly, still feeling
the pressure of time constraints building. Pushing against him. But he
had to resist acting rashly. It wouldn't help Scully. Slow and careful,
that was the key, as much as he hated it.
He approached the house carefully after ensuring there were no
obvious threats. Got to the back door and looked in. Nothing.
Empty. He tried the handle and was surprised to discover that it
turned. He pulled his weapon out, and then swung the door open
gently with his left hand. He entered the house then, careful of every
step. It definitely seemed deserted.
He moved through the kitchen and into the dining room. Then into the
living room and through the rest of the downstairs. He headed upstairs
then and checked all the rooms. The entire place was empty. Hadn't
been lived in for years if he was any judge.
He made his way back to the living room and leaned against the front
door. Stared in towards the empty rooms of the deserted house. An
hour wasted. An hour less to help Scully and Rick. He closed his
eyes and leaned his head back, against the hard wood of the door.
Pulled it forward then dropped it back again, causing a dull thunk to
reverberate through the empty rooms. Did it again. And again. But it
served no purpose.
He was beyond such things now. He didn't need the pain to let him
know he was alive. Didn't need it to remind him what was important.
He already knew. He knew what was important. And knew who
made him alive. Made him want to keep going. And she was
depending on him.
He opened his eyes and pushed away from the door, then left the house
quickly. Time was still important. She was counting on him.
As soon as he reached the car, he grabbed for the phone and punched
in Rand's code once more.
"Speak."
"Nothing here. Team three?"
"They're due to call any moment. Want to hang?"
He glanced around at the deserted location then slipped in behind the
wheel. He was only an hour or so from Jeffries. Might as well check
out the remains of the buildings. Maybe he could find something there
that would help.
"Yeah, I'm here. Let me know when they report."
He got in and slammed the door behind him. Awkwardly fastened the
seatbelt and started the car. Then headed off, back to the road he'd
come in on. A couple miles and then he could get on the interstate. Be
back in Richmond in no time.
He'd almost forgotten the phone at his ear when he heard Rand say,
"Damn! A bust on number three. God damn it. I'm sorry. Jesus, I'm
sorry."
He realized he was breathing heavily and fought it. Tried hard to think
clearly and logically. This couldn't be the end. There had to be more
avenues to explore.
"They couldn't have all just disappeared. Surely we can find at least
one of them, Rand."
He realized too late that he'd broken the first rule of cell phone usage in
covert situations. Never use names.
"Jesus, I'm sorry. I wasn't thinking."
The NSA agent responded kindly, "No problem. Doesn't matter.
Listen, don't give up. My people will come up with some more
names. We'll find them. Hear me?"
He fought against the despair and reminded himself yet again that his
partner and Rick were counting on him.
"Yeah. Yeah, I hear you."
"Listen, I'm gonna get on this again. Keep in touch. And I'll let you
know if I find anything at all. Okay? Hear me?"
"Yeah. I hear you."
He closed his eyes for a second and then took in his surroundings.
Jesus, he was on the interstate and he couldn't even remember getting
there. Time to pay attention to things, Mulder. He turned off the
phone and closed it, then threw it on the passenger's seat. He was
only a little ways from where the Jeffries buildings had stood. Another
hour, maybe hour and a half at most. And something was drawing him
there. He didn't know why. Couldn't imagine why. But he knew he
had to go back there.
*******************************************
Thursday, 12:07 p.m.
Evansville Nuclear Power Plant, Control Center
Scully pushed herself up from the chair and walked to where Rick was
reviewing plant layout diagrams. She stopped next to him and rested
her right hand on his arm to get his attention. "How ya doin'?"
She was pleased to see the smile he gave her. She'd been worried
about him ever since he came tumbling under the door after her. She
hadn't intended that. And couldn't imagine what the hell he thought he
was doing. Her first reaction had been to yell at him. But the man had
just calmly stood there while she vented, and then said, "Mulder and
Walt would be here if they could. I'm just filling in for them, Dana."
And how could she be mad at such reasoning as that? She'd merely
shook her head in frustration and then had thrown herself at him.
Wrapped her arms around him and hugged gratefully. The truth was
she couldn't imagine doing this without him there. He'd been so
steady throughout.
"I'm fine, Dana. Just trying to understand all these different buildings.
Trying to figure out how it all ties in with this whole meltdown idea."
She nodded and looked over his shoulder at the diagram, recognizing it
as one they'd looked at earlier. She looked back at his face and
squeezed his arm gently.
"Hey, Rick. As strange as it sounds, I'm hungry. Jason and I were
just talking about getting something to eat. How about it?"
The man started laughing then. A deep, booming laugh that echoes
around the large empty room. She didn't know whether to be happy or
frightened. Had the pressure finally gotten to him? He must have
sensed her unease because he settled quickly, then managed to say,
"You know, Dana, no matter how unpolitically correct it sounds, I
can't help thinking that women are just more practical than men. We
quite possibly have less than eight hours to live and you're talking
about lunch."
That decided it. She was neither happy nor frightened by his reaction.
She was now just perturbed. Of course, he did have something of a
point. But that was neither here nor there. She felt obligated to stand
up for her gender.
"Rick, I don't think this has anything to do with my being a woman
and I'm offended that you would even suggest such a thing. It's just
logical. And prudent. And ... practical."
She smiled then, even as he broke into laughter once more. And then
she joined him, abandoning her irritation.
"Come on. Let's eat. There's a little kitchen just down the hall.
Jason's going to hold down the fort until we get back."
He nodded and joined her. As they walked, she looked over at him
and thought about his family. Thought about his wife and kids. And
she had to swallow past the lump that tightened her throat. He glanced
over at her and stopped suddenly, causing her to almost stumble.
Rick said, "Dana, whatever you're thinking, stop it. I chose this. It
had nothing to do with you. It is not your fault. Do you understand
me?"
She blinked rapidly, trying to force away the tears that threatened to
spill. And she felt his arms around her, pulling her close, and she gave
into it, even while thinking that it didn't feel quite right. These weren't
the arms she wanted comfort from right now. But he said softly,
"Hey, Dana. We have to stay frosty, you know? Otherwise, Mulder's
gonna be really pissed. And I don't think I'd like to have him pissed at
me. The man seems quite able to kick butt out of sheer stubbornness,
if nothing else."
She had to laugh then at such a characterization. But Rick was right.
Mulder was stubborn. Wonderfully stubborn. And she wanted the
chance to someday tell him the fact that she loved his stubbornness.
She wanted to tell him so many things, but just couldn't seem to get the
chance. Maybe when this was all over.
She pulled back and smiled up at Rick. Then said, "You're a smart
man, Agent Donovan. Come on. Let's get some lunch."
A half hour later, she sat with Rick and Jason Kouvutsakis, the plant
manager, as they reviewed what they knew of the sensing system and
its parameters.
"So, Jason, you think it does actually extend to the Containment
Cooling System as well? Are you sure?"
The man seemed to be chewing on his lip while he thought, and then he
said, "I can't be sure. You have to understand, Dana, I wasn't in on
the installation of this system. It was all real secret. Hush, hush. Any
time I asked questions, I was just told that I'd be filled in at the
appropriate time. That everything was safe and had been cleared
through the NRC. That it operated exactly like ever other system I'd
been involved with and that I'd be sent to an in-depth course on the
system next week."
She could see that he was disgusted. With them -- the ones who'd
installed the system -- as well as with himself for being so gullible.
"That's okay. What would help us now, would be any impressions
you might have on how this system might have operated differently in
the last couple weeks since it's been installed. Have you observed any
behavior that you thought was different from what you might have
anticipated?"
Jesus, it sounded like she was talking about a human subject. But they
had to remember that that this system was based on biological precepts
and had the capacity to think, even though in a very limited way. She
watched as the man finally shook his head.
"No. Not really. The only possible thing happened about a week ago.
We had an NUE."
Scully had never heard the term before. Glanced over at Rick to see he
was just as confused. Jason must have understood this because he
then clarified.
"An NUE is a Notification of Unusual Event. It's the lowest level of
emergency of the four and it means that there's some degradation of
safety systems but not serious enough to warrant special activation of
the utility emergency organization. Also, the NRC and the state
emergency agency are notified of the event."
Scully didn't know what to make of what he'd told them. "Jason, this
sounds incredibly serious. Why weren't people notified."
The man was shaking his head now and even wore a small smile.
"No. No. It might sound serious but it's really not. It's a relatively
common occurrence. You have to understand that the fuel changes
over time and so there are often transients and small accidents that
occur as a result of this change. It's pretty typical. But no one gets
hurt in an NUE. Not at all. It's even expected that plants will have
these. It's almost necessary to be able to track the way the fuel changes
so that the sensing system parameters can be appropriately modified."
The man seemed so sincere about it that Scully didn't bother to
question him further on that point. She decided to move on to another.
"What exactly was the cause of the NUE and why do you think there
was something odd about it?"
The plant manager shifted his bulk in the chair and looked first from
her and then over to Rick.
"We had what's called an SB-LOCA. That stands for Small Break
Loss of Coolant Accident. And what was strange was that it was
corrected basically by itself. In the past, we'd have needed someone in
a double anti-C to ..."
Rick said, "Wait. What's that? What's a double anti .... whatever?"
"Oh sorry. A double anti-contamination suit. You see, the fix was
required in a high radiation area. Well over a hundred millirem in an
hour."
The manager glanced between them and decided they were keeping up
well enough to go on. "So, anyway. We had our man ... it was
actually a woman come to think of it. Anyway, Alison was all set to
go. Dressed out and ready to move, but the system corrected itself.
She never had to go in."
He was smiling at the recollection and Scully thought he looked like a
proud father. The smile faded as the manager remembered their present
predicament. He sighed heavily and added, "You know, it was really
pretty incredible. I'm still not sure why this system was corrupted, but
I can tell you that if it hadn't been, it would have been amazing. It had
the potential to remove almost all the danger from our jobs. It would
have made nuclear power safe."
She thought about his words and realized the truth in them. This
system that had been installed had intentionally been perverted to wreak
havoc. It didn't mean the technology behind it was evil. It wasn't the
technology itself that was dangerous or inherently bad, it was the way
it was used and the people who used it.
"Remember, Jason. This system was just in its infancy. It certainly
never should have been installed in a plant. But maybe in five years or
so they'll have developed a model that will do all the things you need it
to, safely and securely."
He was smiling again at her but this time it was a smile tinged with
regret and sorrow. "But if the system is destroyed, that will probably
never happen."
She was amazed then at the selflessness of this man. He'd stayed
behind when he sent his workers out, knowing his life would be at
risk. And now he worried about losing a system that could save lives
in the future, even when losing it meant implicitly that his own life
would be forfeit simultaneously.
She moved across the room and leaned against the table by which he
was sitting. She rested her hand on his shoulder and waited until he
looked up at her. Then said, "Don't give up on us so easily. And
don't give up on all those agents outside. My partner and boss are out
there and I can pretty much guarantee they'll move heaven and earth to
get us out of this fix and to prevent this plant from blowing. Okay?"
He nodded and smiled back at her, then said, "I'll trust you on that
one, Dana. Look, it's time to take some readings again. Make sure the
loss of coolant in the RCS is still occurring at the same rate. Then we
better call the NRC guy up and let him know it seems the sensing and
diagnostic system is integrated with the CCS. He won't be happy."
She merely nodded her head and then drifted back to her own papers.
She had decided about an hour ago to reverse profile the sensing and
diagnostic system so that she could possibly hypothesize as to how it
might have been installed at this plant. Now that she had access to
details of plant operation, this made the profiling much easier. She'd
been working completely within the containment structure thus far and
was just getting ready to move to the turbine and generator. She pulled
the pad over once more and continued to make notes. She had just
enough good humor to think to herself that it would be a fascinating
exercise ... if only their very survival weren't riding on it.
*******************************************
Thursday, 2:41 p.m.
Somewhere outside Richmond, Virginia
Mulder had parked a good two miles away and had been making his
way quietly and surreptitiously towards the Jeffries remains ever since.
He'd shed the vest and jacket and was down to jeans and a T-shirt.
He'd spotted the building remains finally and decided to avoid crossing
that expanse of nothing between him and the remains at all costs.
Instead, he stayed up on the ridge and started circling to the left.
There's been a road in that direction. He remembered glimpsing it
before. It was a road that seemed to go further into the property, rather
than out of it. He wanted to find out where that road went.
It was slow going, pushing and shoving his way through the
underbrush and overgrown weeds, but he made it around to the side
where the road was. He stayed frozen in place for a good fifteen
minutes, doing nothing but watching for activity. There was none and
he wasn't sure whether this was good or not. He glanced down at his
watch and cursed softly. He had to move. There really wasn't any
choice. They now had less than five hours to resolve this.
He moved finally, opting to keep to the trees for as long as possible.
He started shadowing the road then, as quietly as he could, stopping
every few minutes to search ahead and behind for any movement.
He'd just decided it was too slow and that he'd be safe in the road
when there was a noise from behind. It was very clearly a vehicle. He
threw himself down to the ground, under an overgrown bush and
watched.
It rounded the bend finally and came into view. A black sedan with
tinted windows. Fuck. Fuck! All this time the bastards had been a
few hundred yards from the original buildings. God damn it! And
even while he was cursing to himself -- angry that they'd missed such a
simple possibility, his cell phone started ringing. Loudly.
He grabbed for it and turned it off, not even thinking about who might
be at the other end. It was crucial that nothing give him away.
Especially not the ringing of a damned cell phone. He waited,
breathless, for the car to pass. Dropped his head down to his arms
when it did, and just stayed there for a good minute at least. But then it
was time to move. Time to get going and find Burgos and maybe even
the scientist who actually built the system that had been installed at the
Evansville plant.
He headed off once more, sure now that what he sought was there,
ahead of him. And he never even thought about who might have been
on the phone. Who had been trying to reach him or for what.
*******************************************
Thursday, 3:59 p.m.
Outside Evansville Nuclear Power Plant, Temporary Command Center
Skinner felt helpless. And he hated it. With a passion. He'd spoken
to Scully several times now and was slightly reassured that they were
making some progress in understanding the system as it was
configured for the Evansville plant. But they were still no closer to
disabling it. They needed the people who actually built the damned
thing.
He was just getting ready to confer with another agent when his phone
rang.
"Skinner."
"Didn't anyone ever teach you not to use names? Jeez, what's the
Bureau teaching its people these days?"
Rand. Figured. He tried to keep the irritation from his voice when he
asked, "What can I do for you?"
And the man's answer almost made him fall over.
"Send me a helicopter."
"Excuse me?"
"I think your boy stumbled onto something. And he's turned off his
phone so I can't reach him to warn him off. He's in for a world of
trouble if we don't get help to him soon."
"You found what you were looking for? And he did, too?" He was
trying to be more circumspect now, not wanting to give away their real
meanings too easily.
"Yes indeed. But I'm still at least an hour away by car. I'll try to make
it in forty-five. If we do manage to get what we wanted, we'll have to
have a way to get it back to Evansville fast. Understand?"
"I do. But where do you want it?"
There was silence then and he could imagine the NSA agent at the other
end, wracking his brain for a way to get the message across without
giving too much away.
"Remember that little jaunt your agents and I took a few nights ago?
Well, we're doin' it again. Very close by. You get that chopper
movin'. We don't have a lot of time here."
Skinner shook his head to himself. Jesus, they're going back to
Jeffries. But there wasn't a Jeffries anymore. He'd gotten the report.
It was nothing but rubble. But what had Rand said -- close by. There
must be another facility close by the original one. And Mulder was
evidently already there or on the way. And Rand was almost an hour
behind him. Shit.
"All right. It's done. But you get there fast. Keep ... our boy ... out
of trouble."
He heard the gentle laughter followed by, "Hey, I can try but he's sort
of got a mind of his own and a magnet for trouble. Not a good combo,
you know?"
For the first time, Skinner realized he almost -- almost -- liked this
character. "Yeah, actually, I do know. All too well. Thanks. Keep in
touch, okay?"
"Gotcha. Will do. Over and out."
He shook his head again as he looked at the phone in his hand.
Punched the talk button slowly and prayed for the safety of his agent,
alone somewhere outside Richmond. And then he turned and started
yelling instructions for an assault team and a helicopter.
*******************************************
Mulder wiped at the sweat on his face. Glanced at his hand and saw
little spatters of blood mixed in with the sweat. Forcing yourself
through virgin underbrush, never before touched by human hands, was
not as easy as one might think. He swallowed hard and tried to catch
his breath. The house was below him. Well, if you could call it a
house. Actually, it was huge. Probably had enough room for all the
scientists involved in the project as well as Burgos and all the support
personnel they'd need. Jesus, how in the world had they all missed
this? And who the hell did it belong to?
He tried to stay quiet and just watch the activity. There wasn't much of
it. Security wasn't obvious. At the very least there would be standard
systems. But where the hell were the guards? He didn't see any. He
waited.
There'd been absolutely no movement for fifteen minutes now so he
slowly disengaged from the forest and started moving towards the
house. He'd been moving from one group of bushes to another,
slowly and carefully, but was now faced with nothing but openness.
He had to take the chance. He made sure there was no movement and
then was up and sprinting for the house. He got to it with no obvious
alarms raised and stopped, back to the brick facade. He had to move
again. Had to get under some cover or he'd be dead if anyone came
down the road or out of the house. He decided to circle around the
back so started moving slowly to his left. He got to the corner and
stopped. Listened for anything out of the ordinary, then quickly stuck
his head out and around. Pulled it back and processed everything he'd
seen ... and not seen.
There'd been no movement, no people, no animals. He slipped around
the corner, even as he withdrew his weapon. Always be prepared.
That was his motto. He continued down the side of the house and
stopped when he came to a window. Bent down and moved under it.
Continued in this fashion until he reached the back corner. And for the
first time he heard something. He stood listening again, trying to
identify the sounds. There was definite speech involved, but also
something else. Something he couldn't figure out.
He decided to risk another peak so leaned around just log enough to
take in the view of the backyard and the two men who stood behind the
house, luckily with backs turned to him. He pulled back and glanced
back the way he'd come, making sure there was no imminent danger
from that direction. He was clear.
The two men had been cleaning shot guns. That was the occasional
clicking and metal on metal sound he'd heard. Jesus, could it get any
more stereotypical? He's trying to break into a house to kidnap a
scientist who built a deadly weapon and the bad guys are standing
around cleaning their guns, waiting for the chance to use them.
He shook his head again and then looked back to the three windows
he'd crawled under on the way along this side. Maybe his answer was
closer than he thought. He headed back the way he'd come and
stopped at the first one. Listened for several minutes, then decided to
risk a look. He did it quickly, just as he'd done in the back. It
appeared to be a dining room. Empty. He decided to look again. He
stayed longer this time, sure that the room he was looking into was,
indeed, empty. He stuffed his weapon back in its holster and raised his
hands to the window. Could he possibly be this lucky? Evidently so.
It was cracked open already.
He managed to get his hands under the bottom of the window and
pushed gently. It slid easily and noiselessly. There were French doors
leading into what he assumed was the living room. The doors had old
fashioned thick sheer curtains over them which effectively blocked out
most of his movements. The other door was closed and probably led
to the kitchen. He kept an eye on both as he pulled himself up and then
over the ledge. He swung his feet in and dropped down to the floor.
Shut the window again behind him. It had taken less than a minute and
had been accomplished with almost no noise. He couldn't help being
proud of himself.
Now what, though? Through the kitchen or the living room. The
kitchen probably had an open door to the backyard where the two
goons were playing with their guns. How about the living room?
He crept to the French doors and pushed the curtains back just slightly
with one finger. Damn, there was someone there. A man was lying on
the couch, a book on his stomach, arms crossed on his chest, evidently
asleep. He pushed the curtain farther and tried to see off to the right.
There was someone else, someone he recognized. God damn it, it was
Burgos!
But if Burgos were here, surely there'd be guards on the man. He
moved to the other side of the doors and moved the curtains again, this
time looking to the left. Sure enough, there was a man there, standing
in front of the door leading to the front of the house.
He dropped the curtain and tried to figure it. This had to be done
quietly or he'd quickly be overpowered. He had to either down the
guard immediately or get him disarmed and out of the picture. But it
had to be done quietly enough so as not to draw the attention of anyone
else in the house. So, three men. One asleep on the couch. No idea
whether he's armed or not. One awake in a chair but unarmed. One
awake by the far door and definitely armed. Ready to blow any
intruders away.
Time to make use of the old element of surprise routine. He withdrew
his weapon once more and gripped it tightly. Took a deep breath.
Stood to his full height and grabbed the door handle in his left hand.
Turned the knob, then threw the door open, entered and aimed at the
guard. Said in a low voice, "Drop it now. No sound. No movement.
Do it."
And thankfully the man did, without hesitation.
He then said, back still turned to the man, "Dr. Burgos, good to see
you again."
He could hear the man sputtering in shock and added, "Don't yell out,
Dr. Burgos. They might just decide you're more trouble than you're
worth and kill you now."
There was silence from behind him. Silence still from the couch,
although he could see out of the corner of his eye that the man there had
awakened. He moved forward, towards the guard and gestured to the
right. "Over there. Sit in that chair. Put your hands on the arms, in
clear view."
The man did what he said and he was finally able to move to that end of
the room and turn so that he could see everyone. He knew he didn't
have much time. Had to get the hell out of here, somehow, with
Burgos in tow. He swallowed heavily and said, "Dr. Burgos, who's
your friend?"
He watched the man's eyes slide over to the man on the couch. Burgos
seemed unusually nervous.
"Come on, Dr. Burgos. Surely you know the man's name. Who is
this?"
It was obvious that Burgos wasn't going to answer and he didn't have
time to figure out why. He turned to the man lying so still and said,
"What's your name? Who are you?"
He moved forward, careful to keep the guard in his view and stopped
next to the couch. The man lying there was in his fifties, perhaps. He
wore dockers and a golf shirt with easy confidence. In fact, the man
hadn't shown the least bit of worry and continued to lie there as if his
life weren't now being threatened by a madman with a gun. It made
Mulder incredibly nervous. It was as if this man knew something he
didn't.
But regardless, he asked again, "Who the hell are you?"
The man smiled up at him lazily. Indolently. And started uncrossing
his arms. Mulder moved his eyes down to the man's hands too late.
The hand was coming at him fast and he was just starting to throw
himself down as something sprayed him.
And then his eyes were on fire and he couldn't breathe. He couldn't
see, couldn't even force his eyes to remain open, no matter how much
he wanted to, and his nose was burning from where he'd inhaled
whatever it was. And then he was on his back, but some small part of
him was aware of his weapon being yanked out of his hand and of
words. Words that made no sense but seemed to be harsh and brutal
but not directed at him. And both his hands were clawing at his eyes
and his face, even as he was gasping for breath.
And then he couldn't force his hands to stay up any more. They
wouldn't obey his directions. He tried to push himself up, in spite of
the fact that he couldn't see, but discovered his legs wouldn't obey him
either. And he felt the tingling start in his fingers and toes, then extend
to the rest of the limbs. And then he couldn't move at all. He could
only lie there, on his back. Unable to move, unable to see, unable to
do anything to save himself. Or to save Scully.
The words had been continuing all this time, but he hadn't been able to
make them out. He concentrated hard, now, wondering if this was
really going to be the end. And the man who'd sprayed whatever it
was at him was speaking to him.
"I don't know whether to thank you or not, Agent Mulder. You see,
we had our own escape plan all set and you sort of ruined it for us. Of
course, we now have an extra weapon and an FBI agent in our
possession. I suppose we should thank you for that."
He heard a rustle next to him and imagined movement near where the
guard was evidently still sitting.
"I'm not exactly sure what to do with you, Agent Mulder. Do I leave
you or take you? Well, I guess I have a few minutes to decide."
There was a rustling again and then he heard the man giving instruction
to Burgos. Instructions to get their things. The man spoke as if to an
underling. As if he were giving orders he expected to be obeyed
without discussion or question. And Mulder was aware enough to be
curious about the dynamics here. He was still gasping for air, trying to
avoid breathing through his nose if at all possible, but failing
miserably. And then he realized the man was talking to him again.
"You see, Agent Mulder, you actually picked a pretty good time to
come for your visit. It's just me and Burgos and the three stooges.
One of whom you were kind enough to take out of action for us."
Mulder tried blinking his eyes, tried to squeezing them tightly, but his
vision had taken a vacation to locations unknown. He was still blind.
"Oh, don't worry, Agent Mulder. It's not permanent. In fact, in a
very short time, you'll start regaining some control. Which is why I
need to figure out what to do with you. But .... first things first. I
have a couple problems out back I need to take care of. You'll excuse
me, won't you?"
He tried to stretch his remaining senses. Tried to figure out what was
going on. He heard the man walk into the dining room and then pause.
Then heard a door open -- evidently the one he'd assumed went in to
the kitchen. Then another door and two quick shots. A pause and then
four more in rapid succession. Jesus, he'd killed the men outside. But
it hadn't sounded like his weapon. Please, Lord, let it have been with a
different weapon.
The steps came back towards him then and off in the distance, he heard
a clatter coming from what he assumed was the steps leading upstairs.
Then Burgos' voice was clear, "What was that? What did you do?"
The other man was back and much closer than Mulder realized. His
voice seemed to come from only a foot or so away as he said, "Only
what I had to." And with no warning at all, two more shots echoed
out, causing Mulder to jerk his head away in reaction. And at first he
thought the man must have killed Burgos, but then realized the other
guard had just met his end, even while tied down and helpless.
Then the man standing over him said calmly, "And that also had to be
done. But now, Agent Mulder. What about you?"
He could feel his breath quicken and was sure his heart skipped a beat.
He squeezed his eyes shut once more, then blinked quickly again,
trying to clear them of any residual spray. And for the first time, an
image appeared. It wasn't clear. Merely a shapeless blob. But he
could tell it was standing over him. And the blob had what looked like
an arm raised and pointed at him. And he could guess what was at the
end of the arm.
He fought to speak. Fought to clear his throat enough so that the
words could make it past the tightness. And he managed it finally,
even as he continued to blink his eyes. Managed a croak that was
hardly even audible. "Help Scully."
There was a silence then and his vision cleared a little more to reveal the
man still standing over him, weapon pointed very definitely at his face.
"You intrigue me, Agent Mulder. Was that a plea for help from Agent
Scully or was that a plea for help for Agent Scully?"
He blinked again, unsure whether he had the capability to answer the
man's question. He tried once more to clear his throat and was
overwhelmed with a coughing fit that left him exhausted. But he
managed to speak once more. "In plant. Help her."
The man leaned down over him then and he could see an expression of
curiosity. "Now, why would I want to do that, Agent Mulder? That
plant's supposed to blow. That's what I was paid for. I'm sorry if
your little friend is in it at the time. She might still survive, you know.
It's not all as cut and dried as people seem to think. She might just get
.... a little singed around the edges."
If he had any control right now, he would have killed the man with his
bare hands. The man stood then and he could see that the weapon now
hung down at his side loosely. "You know, Agent Mulder. I think
we'll bring you with us. You might just come in handy."
And he listened then, helpless and bound by the invisible ties of this
unknown drug as surely as if he'd been wrapped with duct tape once
more. Listened as they plotted their escape. And he was thrown in the
back of a car then. The black car he'd seen earlier. A blanket and
luggage was thrown on top of him, but he could barely feel any of it.
And his last thought before they drove away was that he'd let his
partner down. He'd failed. The plant was going to blow and she was
going to die because he'd failed.
But then a part of him, deep down, hardened. Rebelled against the
idea. He wasn't dead yet, and neither was she. This wasn't over. He
had Burgos and the man he assumed actually built the system in his
possession. Well, not quite yet, but by God he'd find a way.
Somehow.
*******************************************
Thursday, 4:54 p.m.
House Outside of Richmond
Rand decided on the direct approach. He pulled out his phone and
called Skinner. Let him know where he was and that he was going in
straight. Told the man to stay on the phone with him the whole way.
They both knew why. Both understood that even if something
happened to Rand, at least Skinner would know what was going
down.
"Okay, I see a house ahead. No cars out front. No people. Front
door open wide."
He pulled his car to a stop and got out. Moved the phone to his other
ear and pulled out his weapon. Still no movement. He walked to the
front door slowly.
"I'm at the door. Opening. Shit!"
The guard tied to the chair was obviously dead. A bullet right through
the right eye and another in the chest. A bit of overkill.
"Have a dead body here. Unknown subject. Looks like a scuffle of
some sort in the living room. A little blood on the carpet. Am
proceeding into the adjoining room."
He pushed back the French door a bit more and entered, then moved to
the window carefully.
"Am in the dining room. Empty. Can see into the back yard. Two
more bodies. Looks like they were guards. Am proceeding into
kitchen."
Rand moved through the house, relaying his findings, even while he
was wracking his brain to figure out what had happened. There was
no way Spooky would kill innocent people in cold blood. Even not so
innocent, unless he was fired upon first. No way in hell would he kill
someone strapped down to a chair and unable to defend themselves.
Would he? But what the hell else could have happened?
He was back to the ground floor and decided to check outside more
carefully.
"It's completely deserted. Whatever went down, was in the last fifteen
minutes. Someone had to have gotten away from this. I would guess
in an automobile. How long 'til the chopper makes it?"
He heard Skinner yell to someone in the background and then the man
was back on the phone. "Any time. You should be hearing something
soon."
"Okay. Here's what I suggest. I'll wait for the chopper. I don't know
what happened here, but I can't imagine that Spooky did this. Which
means someone else did. Which means someone else had the weapon
and had control. Which means Spooky didn't."
He heard the breath puff out at the other end and could imagine the
stress the other man was under right now. Then Skinner said, "All
right. I concur."
There was silence then and Rand was ready to disconnect when the
other man spoke once more.
"Try to find him. In one piece, preferably. Scully will kill us if we let
anything happen to him."
Rand smiled and nodded, imagining the temper that he'd only had
glimpses of erupting in full-fledged tsunami-like proportions. He
chuckled and replied, "I will. Don't wanna get on her bad side, now
do we? Later."
As he disconnected the talk button, the sound of helicopter rotors
cutting through the air became clear. And then he saw it, just clearing
the trees. He walked out to his car and holstered his weapon. Raised
his arm and waved them in.
*******************************************
Thursday, 5:12 p.m.
Evansville Nuclear Power Plant
Scully slammed her pen down and pushed back from the table. God
damn it, where the hell were those scientists who'd designed this God
forsaken system? She wasn't up to this. What had she been thinking
when she rolled under that door? Did she actually think she could do
something to change what was obviously an inevitable result?
She felt a hand on her shoulder and jerked in surprise. She hadn't even
heard anyone approaching. Jesus, she was losing it. She looked up
into Rick's concerned face and immediately felt the guilt starting again.
Crashing against her in waves. He was here because of her. He had a
wife and children and he was going to be taken from them because of
her.
Why the hell had he followed her? It wasn't like she would be a great
loss. It wasn't like she had a family waiting for her to come home.
Well, not exactly anyway. There was her mother of course, and Bill
and Charlie. But there was also Mulder. He was out there
somewhere, risking God knew what to try to get her out of this. He
was like family. Dearer than family, perhaps.
She shook her head and raised her hands to her face. Rubbed briskly.
You are definitely losing it, Dana Katherine.
The arm around her shoulders was a welcome comfort and she leaned
into it. Leaned against Rick, who'd risked everything because he had
faith that it was right. And she found comfort in that, too.
He said, "Dana, why don't you take a break. You've been working
straight for hours now. How about a walk? Or maybe some dinner?"
She looked up at him and grinned. He had no idea what he'd just
suggested. "Rick, maybe I'm being a bit un-PC here, but that sounded
like something a woman would say."
He joined in her laughter, then gave her another hug before releasing
her. She was happy he was here, but recognized how selfish that was.
More than anything, she wished he was home with his family. And
that she was home with hers.
She moved over to the phone and said, "I think I'll call Skinner and see
if he has an update. We haven't heard much about Mulder and Rand
lately. I'd like to know what they're up to."
She looked over at the far wall. A little past five-fifteen. Less than
three hours to go. And part of her was happy. She wanted this over
with.
*******************************************
They must have been on a back road somewhere if all the bumping was
any indication. At least he was starting to actually feel it, which Mulder
supposed was a good thing. He was lying on the floor in the back,
facing the front. The hump in the middle of the floor was now digging
into his side uncomfortably. A blanket had been tossed on top of him
with several suitcases thrown on top of that. He was hot. The sweat
had started immediately and now practically soaked him from head to
foot. Well, he assumed. Just as he assumed his legs were folded in
some way, although he still couldn't feel them. His vision had cleared
and he could once again breathe through his nose without intense pain
and agony. His head was only partly covered by the blanket so there
was actually a little bit of clean air for him to breathe. But he kept his
eyes closed, not wanting to let them know he was alert.
He concentrated hard on moving his arms, moving his legs. If he
could manage to regain just a little more function, he might be able to
get control of the situation. He'd been working on his arms,
concentrating with every cell on the right one, when all of a sudden it
jerked forward and hit the back of the driver's seat. He immediately
stilled and let his muscles relax. Played dead. Maybe they'd think it
was a bump in the road.
He heard the driver say, "What the fuck was that?"
Burgos responded, "What? What are you talking about?"
"Check on Mulder. Damn it, he shouldn't be moving yet. Not for
another hour at least."
He could feel the bags on top of him being moved, evidently onto the
back seats, and then the blanket was pulled back.
Burgos voice was stressed as he said, "Jesus, I think he must be
overheating under all that. He's red as a beet. And completely soaked.
He might be having a reaction to the spray. Or maybe heat stroke. I
don't know."
Mulder decided to take advantage of the suggestion by forcing his arm
to move once more, in what he hoped was at least reminiscent of a
convulsion. Hey, whatever worked. He jerked once. Then twice.
Had to fight a grin when Burgos practically yelled, "Jesus, he's
convulsing. Pull over. Pull over."
"I can't pull over here. This isn't a secured area."
"If you don't pull over, he might die. Do you really want the death of a
Federal Agent hanging over your head?"
Mulder concentrated hard on his legs then, and discovered he had some
control there, too. He continued his jerking, attempting to make it look
even more frantic.
"I'm telling you Shalin, you have to pull over. Now!"
Mulder was pleased the man had finally found a backbone. Now, he
had to figure out just how he was going to manage this.
He tried out the arms again and was pretty sure he could make them do
what he wanted. He even tried the hands during one particularly
violent jerk and discovered he could grip them and move the fingers.
Excellent.
He could tell the car had pulled over and heard the muttering coming
from the man Burgos had called Shalin. Then the door by his head
was flung open and he concentrated hard on his performance.
It must have been pretty good because Shalin muttered, "Jesus, it looks
like he's burning up. That shouldn't have happened."
Jesus, what an asshole. Put a man under a wool blanket and a pile of
suitcases on the hot floor of a car in ninety plus degree weather and
he's surprised by a little sweat.
He heard the other door being opened and then Shalin said, "Put the
suitcases in the trunk. Let's get him on the seat and give him some
water. Maybe that'll help."
He continued with the occasional jerk, but it was a tiring business. He
couldn't keep it up for much longer. And the position was incredibly
awkward. He felt hands at his legs and arms finally and was relieved
to be laid out relatively flat on the seat.
A breeze made it in the passenger's door and blew across him. It was
heavenly, but at the same time he realized that if he cooled down too
fast, he might miss his opportunity.
Shalin was still near his head and said, "Get some water and give it to
me."
He decided that if he were going to do this, it would have to be soon.
He jerked again in such a way that his hands flopped on his chest.
Jerked again so his head was straight back. Waited for the man to lean
over him.
And Shalin did. He could sense the man leaning forward. He opened
his eyes, threw his hands up and grabbed the man's shirt,
simultaneously kicking out with his feet to send Burgos flying
backwards out of the car. He then pulled at Shalin with all his might,
and managed to send the man crashing to the very floor where he
himself had lain not two minutes before. He pushed himself up and
threw himself on top of Shalin awkwardly, making sure the man's
hands couldn't reach for anything they weren't supposed to. He forced
his own hand down to search at the man's waist and came away with a
familiar friend. His very own weapon.
He pushed back then, pushed himself onto the back seat, and held his
weapon to the man's head. He could see Burgos still lying on the
ground, evidently stunned. Good. Let him lie there.
He felt incredibly weak, but also exhilarated. He'd managed it. Now
he had to get these characters back to the plant. His voice was hoarse,
but clear as he said, "Shalin, move slowly. Get up and sit on the seat."
He moved out of the car himself, to allow the man the room he needed.
Shalin had evidently cracked his head on something on the way down
because blood flowed from a gash on his forehead. He seemed dazed,
but Mulder knew better than to take that at face value. Not after the
little trick he'd just pulled. He glanced out of the passenger door to
take in Burgos' actions. The man was just now sitting up.
"Burgos, put your hands behind your head and just sit there."
He was pleased to see the man do it without question. Good. One less
thing to worry about. He gestured to Shalin again. "Come on. Up on
the seat. Move it."
The man managed it finally, laying his head back against the seat.
Mulder found the other weapon and tucked it into the back of his jeans.
Now what? He had to immobilize these two.
"Burgos, get over here."
The man stumbled up and around the car, hands still up on his head.
Mulder gestured to the man's cotton knit shirt. "Take off your shirt.
Tear it into strips."
Burgos just stared at him stupidly.
"Do you hear me? Take it off now."
The man moved his hands and grabbed the bottom of his shirt, but then
looked back at him. "There's some duct tape in the trunk. Would that
be easier?"
Mulder couldn't help laughing. Jesus. Being offered advice and
assistance by his kidnap victim. He nodded then and said, "One wrong
move, Burgos, and this man dies. Then you're next."
He watched as Burgos nodded, then headed to the back of the car. He
knew he was taking a huge chance here, but had definitely formed the
opinion that Burgos was a man who always took directions. Wouldn't
survive without it. Whatever originality or creativity he showed in his
science, was all there was in the man. None left for the rest of life and
living. And sure enough, only seconds later Burgos appeared, roll of
tape in hand.
Mulder gestured to Shalin and said, "Fasten his hands behind his back.
Then wrap up his legs. Then you can sit up in the front seat and wrap
your legs, too. Got it?"
Burgos nodded in understanding, leaned into the car and took care of
Shalin. Then docilely walked to the front and climbed into the
passenger seat. Mulder closed the back door on the driver's side.
Walked around the back and slammed the hood. Closed up the back
door on the passenger's side, then leaned in to where Burgos sat
calmly waiting for him.
He checked the man's feet and saw Burgos had done a good job on
himself. Shook his head at the tragedy. The man was pathetic, really.
And he knew he'd been right all those days ago. This man had been
used from the very beginning. But the tragedy was that Burgos had
known it. But couldn't do anything to stop it. It just wasn't part of
who he was.
He raised the roll of tape and said, "Dr. Burgos, I'd like to put some
around your wrists now." He was consumed suddenly with pity when
the man merely raised his linked hands out, wrists together. The
proverbial lamb to the slaughter. His voice was gentle as he said,
"Thank you, Dr. Burgos," and then fastened the man's wrists.
He closed the door carefully, leaned against it wearily, and took in his
surroundings. He was exhausted. He looked down at the roll of tape
still in his hands and discovered it was shaking. In fact, his entire
body seemed on the verge of collapse. He pushed himself away from
the car and walked around to the driver's side and slid in, behind the
wheel. Put his hands up on the wheel and leaned forward, resting his
head on his arms. It was only for a moment. Just a little rest. And
then he heard Burgos speaking.
"Agent Mulder. Agent Mulder?"
He raised his head and looked around. Glanced into the rearview
mirror and took in the fact that Shalin seemed to be out of it. A good
thing or he'd probably be dead by now after that little lapse. He turned
his head to look at Burgos and said, "Where are we?"
The man was obvious rattled when he said, "We're about forty minutes
or so south of Richmond."
"What road?"
"I think it's a secondary road. Route Forty-two."
He nodded in understanding and asked, "Is there a cell phone in the
car?"
Burgos was pointing to the compartment in the arm rest. He flipped it
open and thanked the Lord for small favors. Then punched in a
familiar number.
*******************************************
Thursday, 6:12 p.m.
Outside Evansville Nuclear Power Plant, Temporary Command Center
Skinner gave the command he'd been dreading and started sending
various teams away. He'd just finished speaking again with the Major
when his phone rang. Jesus, who could it be now? It seemed that
everyone suddenly had his cell number.
"Skinner."
"It's me, sir."
He almost dropped the phone. Wasn't sure if he could possibly be
hearing right. He waved for silence and said, "Who is this?"
"It's me. I have them, sir. I need to get them to you."
He was shocked by the exhaustion that seemed to pull at his agent's
every word, but realized there'd be time for that later. Maybe.
"Where are you? We have a chopper in the area where you were. We
just need to give them instructions on how to get to where you are
now."
He heard a small cough from the other end and grew more concerned.
"Are you hurt? Can you tell us where you are?"
"I'm not hurt, sir. I ... I think I'm on a secondary road. Route forty-
two. Some thirty miles or so south of Richmond. I'm in ... I'm in a
black car with tinted windows on the side of the road. I'll continue
driving south. They should be able to find us."
"Okay. Just be careful. I'll get them to you soon. Do you hear?
Shouldn't be more than fifteen minutes. Twenty at the outside.
Okay?"
And the weary voice was practically a whisper as his agent replied, "All
right. I'm looking forward to seeing you again, sir."
"As am I, Agent. See you soon."
He disengaged the talk button and immediately hit it again. Rand's
number had become very familiar over the past couple hours.
The voice that answered said merely, "Speak."
He could barely hear the man over the chopper noise, so spoke loudly
when he said, "We got him. He called. He's approximately thirty
miles south of Richmond on some road, number forty-two. He's got
what we need. He said he'll be driving south to get as close as he can.
You should be able to get to him soon."
"Okay, we're off."
"Wait!" He wasn't really sure what he wanted to say. Took a valuable
couple seconds to figure it out. "He sounded like he might be hurt.
Take care of him."
"Don't worry. Saving his butt is what I do best."
And then there was a dial tone. He pulled the phone away from his
ear. Stared at it for a long moment and then turned his gaze to the
plant. Pulled it up once again to talk with his other agent. It was about
time they had some good news.
*******************************************
Scully turned to Jason and said, "What do you think? Is it possible?"
The man looked at her as if she were torturing him.
"I just can't say, Dana."
"Listen, I know we can't determine anything for sure, but we can
speculate. We can hypothesize. Identify the best hypothesis and then,
all else having failed, test that hypothesis. Yes? I mean, it's not like
we have anything to lose here, Jason."
She watched as the man licked his lips. Turned to look at Rick as if the
other agent would somehow save him from this crazy woman who
wanted to do crazy things to his plant. But Rick merely smiled and
shrugged.
She said, "Jason. This thing is going to experience a meltdown in
approximately one hour and forty-five minutes. And most likely, there
will be an accompanying breach of the containment structure. The end
result will most certainly be our deaths and most likely the death of the
nuclear power industry in this country. Now is that what you want?"
She knew she was hitting him where he was most vulnerable. He was
more proud of this plant than anything else in his life. She'd
determined that within the first hour of their enforced captivity. She
was inordinately pleased when he shook his head and looked back at
her.
"No. Of course not."
"So what are you going to do to prevent it? Sit around and twiddle
your thumbs? Because Rick and I are going to act. We might fail, but
at least we'll have tried. Now are you going to help or not?"
The man nodded to her then and said wearily, "Okay, Dana. Fine.
Let's do it. Let's start making some plans."
She smiled at him broadly and hit him in the arm. It was somewhat out
of character but just felt right at the time. And just as she was picking
up her notes once more, the phone rang. Rick reached for it, put it on
speaker and answered.
"Rick here. You're on the speaker."
"Hi Rick, it's Walt. How are you all holding up in there?"
"We're good. What's up?"
"I just heard from Mulder. He's got what we've been needing. I
expect they'll be here in about forty-five minutes to an hour."
She watched as Rick paused and looked over at her. Then he said,
"That's great, Walt. Cutting it kind of close. Don't suppose there's
any way to speed that up, huh?"
"We're trying. Believe me."
"How about that door, Walt? Any progress?"
"They've been working continuously. Believe me -- if we manage it,
you'll be the first to know."
"Hang on a second, Walt."
Rick turned to her and asked, "Do you want to talk?"
She nodded and approached the phone. Then said, "Hello, sir."
"Agent Scully. Good to hear your voice."
She smiled and replied, "Thank you, sir. You too."
She licked her lips then and nervously brushed a stray piece of hair out
of her face. Then cleared her throat and said, "Sir, you said you heard
from Mulder. How is he?"
There was a pause then, long enough for her to grow concerned. Then
Skinner said, "He's just fine, Agent Scully. A little tired I think, but
who isn't?"
She tried to discern whether her boss was lying to her and finally
decided to take him on faith. She allowed herself to relax a bit as she
said, "If you speak to him again, tell him I said to take it easy."
His voice was kind when he said, "Don't worry, Scully. I will. And
you do the same."
"Yes, sir. Thank you. Good-bye."
She stayed where she was for a moment, then turned back to the plant
manager.
"Come on, Jason. We don't have a lot of time. We need to continue
our plans on the off chance they don't get here in time."
The man groaned, obviously having thought his prayers had been
answered. Now he was once more back to trying to please the crazy
lady. But he nodded and pushed himself out of his chair.
"Okay, Dana. Show me what you were thinking."
*******************************************
Thursday, 6:26 p.m.
Rt. 42, Forty-six miles south of Richmond
Mulder heard it finally. That blessed sound he'd been waiting for. The
sound of a helicopter. He looked around and decided they could land
in the field next to him. He pulled the car over and came to a stop.
Opened the door and climbed out wearily. He walked to the front of it
then around to the other side. He raised his right arm to shield his eyes
and face from the dirt that was being churned up. He could barely see.
He glanced down at his watch and cursed internally. Dammit. It
would still take an hour to get down to the plant from here. Maybe
slightly less. That was cutting it way too close. He looked back up
and saw the door on the side of the helicopter thrown wide open. And
then what he was seeing registered fully and he threw himself over the
hood of the car, even as the bullets chased at his feet.
The weapons fire echoed loudly across the meadow and warred with
the chopper rotor and engine for dominance. And in mere moments the
afternoon had erupted into a battle zone, even as he crashed onto the
concrete of the road hard and lay there, stunned.
*******************************************
Thursday, 6:28 p.m.
Rt. 42, Forty-six miles south of Richmond
Mulder rolled closer to the side of the car, angling himself so he was
partly underneath it. Then he heard a sound -- a yelling coming from
inside, and he realized that the two men he'd confined couldn't defend
themselves. He reached up and grabbed the handle of the front driver's
side and opened it. Climbed partly into the car and grabbed Burgos by
the arms and pulled hard. The man had been hit, but he didn't have
time to figure out how badly.
He rolled Burgos onto the ground and slammed the door, then reached
for the back door. But then he realized the chopper was rising again.
And it dawned on him that it could easily come over the top of the car
and kill them all.
He pulled out his own weapon as well as the one he'd tucked into the
back of his jeans. Moved quickly to the front of the car and started
firing over the hood. He had to keep the chopper back until the cavalry
came. Had to keep these men alive long enough to get them to the
plant.
He knelt and fired quickly, then dropped back down behind the car
again. Repeated the process, even as bits of metal came flying at his
face from shots that hit within inches of his head. He was just
preparing to shoot again when he heard the weapons fire erupt again in
a mad cacophony of noise, but the bullets seemed to miss the car.
He looked over the hood carefully and saw the helicopter veering off
and then understood. Another helicopter was tearing up the road,
doing a good ninety miles an hour. And the letters FBI were blazoned
on the side in huge white print.
He sank back down and shoved his weapon in his holster. Once again
tucked the other one in the back of his jeans. And then he moved to
Burgos to see how badly the man was wounded.
He knelt down and pushed at the man's shirt. He'd been hit in the
abdomen. Again in the shoulder. Jesus, there was blood everywhere.
He yanked the front door open and grabbed the roll of duct tape. It
would come in useful once more, perhaps. He pulled off his own T-
shirt and tore it into two pieces. Wadded one up and pushed it at the
wound in Burgos' stomach. He tore off strips of tape then and
wrapped them around the wadded material, around the man's body to
keep the makeshift bandage in place. Then he did the same to the
shoulder. Jesus, so much blood.
The man opened his eyes and looked up at him. Whispered, "I didn't
want to hurt anyone. I just wanted to build my system."
He knelt next to the man, not knowing what to say. What to do. But
he nodded finally and said, "I know that, Dr. Burgos. You're going to
be all right. You need to hang on, okay?"
He forced himself up then and opened the back door. Shalin was
clearly dead, one of the many shots that hit him finding his right eye.
The man lay in a pool of his own blood, head practically blown away.
Blood, bone, and brain matter staining the seat. And Mulder felt the
despair threatening him once more as he realized that it might have all
been for nothing. Both scientists were dead or dying and Scully was
still enclosed in concrete and steel with a nuclear disaster looming.
He laid his arms on the top of the car and leaned against it, letting his
head drop onto them. How much more of this was he supposed to
take, for Christ's sake? He just wanted it over. He wanted to be with
his partner. Maybe they could at least get him back to Scully in time.
That would be something. He wanted to see her again, or at least talk
with her. Hear her voice. He wanted to be there when it happened.
Wanted to be with her when it happened.
And then someone was pulling at him. Was pulling at his arms and
then pushing him. He put his right hand to his face to cover his eyes.
And then someone yanked his hand away from his face and slapped
him.
He opened his eyes then and saw Rand. Saw the man's face wavering
right in front of him and realized the NSA agent was yelling at him.
"God damn you, Fox Mulder, what the hell do you think you're doing?
Your partner's counting on you and you're standing around wasting
time. Come on. Move it. We don't have a lot of time here."
He nodded. He thought he understood. Rand was right. If he were
going to get back to Scully in time to be with her when the plant blew,
they had to leave now. He nodded again and tried to turn towards the
chopper. Took a couple steps and then didn't understand why he
couldn't stand. His legs seemed to give out under him and he didn't
understand it. And then he realized how tired he was. But Rand was
here. Rand would know what to do. Rand could take care of things
for just a bit. So he closed his eyes and let himself slip into the fog that
had been chasing after him. Slipped into the darkness and welcomed
it. It was a safer place than this was.
*******************************************
They'd come over a slight rise and had seen the chopper firing on the
car. Had seen the two people behind the car, one of whom was clearly
Mulder. And Rand had directed them to go after the chopper, to drive
it away and bring it down if possible.
They'd chased it for only two minutes when it became clear that they
weren't a match for its speed. Rand had to make a decision. He let the
chopper go and directed the pilot to head back to Mulder.
The blood that stained the ground, stained the man lying there, stained
Mulder's shirtless form scared the crap out of him. He couldn't tell
whether Mulder was hit or not. But the agent was standing on his
own. Was leaning against the car with his head down on his arms.
But the blood was everywhere.
He directed the agents with the assault team to get Burgos in the
chopper and then approached Mulder. The younger man didn't seem to
be aware of his surroundings. Didn't seem to hear Rand at all.
He grabbed the Mulder's shoulder and shook him. Yelled his name
and got no response. And this lack of response was scaring him more
than anything else possibly could.
He physically pulled the man away from the car and was relieved when
Mulder put his hand up to his face. But still the younger agent just
stood there, swaying in the breeze, not responding to anything. And it
dawned on him finally that Mulder had given up. And he was pissed.
How dare he? How dare Mulder give up before it was over? How
dare he even think it when the man had someone like Dana Scully
counting on him!?
He grabbed the agent's hand and pulled it away from his face. Then
slapped him as hard as he could manage. Yelled at him. And finally
there was a response. Mulder nodded at him. Nodded and started
towards the chopper. But then collapsed after only a couple steps.
He called over two of the agents to help him and then realized finally
that Burgos hadn't been the only one hit in the firefight. No wonder
the man was so out of it. There was a rip in his pants leg at the right
thigh with blood welling out. And a clear scratch across his ribs where
he'd been grazed. Jesus, and Rand had slapped him and yelled at him.
He ran ahead of the two men who had Mulder and yelled into the
chopper. "Get bandages and a blanket ready. Hurry."
Then they'd piled in finally and the medic left Burgos to check on
Mulder.
He directed the pilot to get them to the plant immediately, but the medic
yelled, "Sir, these men need to get to a hospital. This one in particular
needs to be operated on immediately."
The medic was pointing to Burgos. Rand was torn. He didn't know
what to do. That man might be the only chance Scully and Rick
Donovan had. And then Burgos was awake and moved his arm. And
he said very clearly, "No. Go to the plant."
Rand nodded and said, "You heard the man. Get going." He nodded
to Burgos in appreciation and respect. Then prayed the man would live
long enough to actually help once they got there.
His attention was pulled back to the other side of the floor as the medic
worked on Mulder. Most of the blood had been wiped away from the
agent's chest and arms and the pants leg had been slit open to reveal the
wound in the leg.
"How is he?"
The man glanced up at him, obviously unhappy at the fact that there
would be no hospital visit in the near future. "Not bad. It appears that
both wounds are relatively superficial. He'll be fine."
Rand gestured over at Burgos, who'd slipped back into either sleep or
unconsciousness. "And him?"
The medic looked over at the sprawled form and then back to Rand.
Shook his head. No words were necessary.
He sighed heavily and pulled out his phone. Time to call Skinner. But
he had no idea what he was going to say.
*******************************************
Thursday, 6:42 p.m.
Outside Evansville Nuclear Power Plant, Temporary Command Center
The call came finally and he punched the button immediately.
"Skinner."
"It's Rand."
He was surprised to hear the man actually acknowledge who he was
over the cell, but didn't really stop to wonder about it for too long.
"It took you long enough. Did you find them?" He heard the heavy
sigh and immediately grew alarmed. "What's wrong? Is Mulder all
right?"
"Yes, he'll live. When we arrived, there was another chopper firing on
them. Mulder was hit but they're superficial wounds. He'll be fine.
The man in the back of the car -- hell, I don't even know who he was,
but he was killed. Burgos is here and he's hanging on."
The man's voice dropped then as he said, "But I don't know for how
long."
He was consumed with disappointment. And shock. God, he hadn't
even considered this as a possibility. He tried to shake himself out of it
and said, "Where are you now? Where are you headed?"
"We're coming your way. Have a medical team ready. Just in case."
The message was clear. In the event that Burgos actually survived the
trip.
"How long do you think it'll take for you to get here?"
"We're pushing the envelope now. I'd guess we'll be there around
7:35. 7:40."
He swallowed heavily and decided not even to bring up the fact that
7:40 was only twenty minutes before the anticipated meltdown. Rand
knew the deadline just as he did.
"Okay. See you then."
"Later."
Skinner dropped his arm, threw the phone on the table, and sank into a
chair wearily. He propped his elbows on his knees and dropped his
head into his hands. In a war you expected death. You expected that
even you yourself might meet your Maker. But this was supposed to
be regular life. How the hell could regular life be so fucked up? Were
there no safe places anywhere?
He pulled his head up, wiped angrily at the few tears that had snuck
past his hands and stared around him. There was hardly anyone left.
Just him and five other agents. Two were still trying everything in
their power to get into the building where Scully and Rick were stuck,
along with the plant manager. The other three were the crew for the
chopper which sat ready, just in case evacuation became necessary.
They had until ten 'til eight. And then anyone who was leaving would
have to get out while they could.
He wiped at his eyes again, feeling an overwhelming sense of failure.
He'd let his agents down. Both of them. And Rick. Jesus, what was
he going to tell the man's wife and children. And Mulder. The man
was in a chopper this very minute. Would be here in another half hour
or so. And he'd have to look his agent in the eyes and tell him there
was nothing to be done. That his partner was as good as dead.
He shook his head then, sharply. Punched his knee with his right
hand. Pushed himself up out of the chair. No, sir. This wasn't over
yet. If there was one thing Mulder had taught him over the years, it
was that nothing was ever over until it was absolutely, positively over.
And this wasn't over yet.
He sniffed noisily, trying to clear his nose, not even ashamed of the
fact he'd actually cried for the first time in God knew how long. Then
reached for the phone. Time to tell Scully her partner was on the way.
*******************************************
Scully pushed at her hair angrily, trying to force it to stay behind her
ear. Then she looked up at the clock on the wall yet again. She
seemed to be averaging a look a minute now, despite how hard she
tried to avoid it. But the clock was a magnet, pulling at her gaze. It
was unavoidable. She turned to Jason and said, "Well? What do you
think?"
He actually smiled at her and then replied, "I think it might work." He
looked over at the clock then and the smile faded. "How much time do
you think it'll take?"
Scully looked over at Rick before answering. Not that the other agent
could help with the answer -- it was just that she felt it was important
that they all decided whether to try this or not. The older agent smiled
at her and gestured in a sort of 'go ahead' kind of way.
She turned back to the plant manager then and said, "I think we'd need
a good fifteen minutes from start to finish. We'd need to get started at
least by 7:45, although that would really be pushing it."
Jason nodded, looked at the clock again and said, "So we have about
forty-five minutes. Why don't we start getting ready?"
She'd just started to move when the phone rang. A little part of her
was ecstatic and believed that this was the call that would save them.
That would tell them the scientist who built the system was here, just
outside, ready to tell them what switch to flip, what program to
modify. But the part of her that was the scientist, knew better than that.
Rick again flipped on the speaker phone and answered.
"Rick here. You're on speaker."
She saw Rick look up at the clock and knew they all were suffering
from the same disease.
"Hello, Agents, Jason, it's Skinner."
They all smiled. They were well acquainted with his voice by now.
"How are you all holding up?"
They smiled again. How many times had he said those words to them?
Scully answered this time. "We're doing okay, sir. Any word about
Burgos or the other scientists?"
There was a pause then and the silence scared them all.
Scully said, "Sir? Is everything all right? Is it Mulder?"
"No, no, Scully. Mulder's fine. But one of the scientists was killed.
Burgos was shot. He's coming here though. Rand's bringing both
him and Mulder and they should all be here in another thirty minutes or
so."
Scully swallowed hard. Looked up at the clock again and did the math.
Jesus, that was cutting it close. They'd have only minutes to determine
whether Burgos could help them before having to implement their own
plan.
"Okay, sir. I think we'd appreciate it if you could keep us posted off
and on."
She looked over at Rick and Jason, silently offering them the chance to
say something. Neither of them took her up on the offer.
"Sir, I think you should know ... we sort of have a plan here. We
have absolutely no idea whether it's feasible since we're not totally sure
about how the system's been incorporated into the plant processes.
But ... well, we intend to try it. But we'll need a little time. At least
fifteen minutes. Sir, that means we need to initiate our plans no later
than 7:45."
She waited, wondering if he understood the implications of what she'd
said. When she heard the heavy sigh at the other end, she was pretty
sure it was clear. Then her boss said, "I understand, Scully. Is there
anything I can help with from out here?"
She looked back at the two men and saw them shake their heads. "No,
sir. I think we have things under control."
She looked at the clock again and decided it was probably time to
mention something else. "Sir, I'd like to ask you a favor."
"Yes, Scully? What's that?"
She heard the break in the deep voice and could imagine her boss
fighting for control over a situation that was almost by definition
uncontrollable -- chaotic. "Sir ... take care of Mulder for me. He tends
to need looking after."
She swallowed hard, fighting the tears that threatened to spill. Then
closed her eyes tight and wrapped her arms around her chest, hugging
herself tightly. There was no answer at the other end and she had to be
sure he understood. "Sir, please. Would you do that for me?"
He answered her finally in a voice that was rough with unshed tears.
"Scully ... Don't worry about Mulder. I'll look out for him. Just as
I'll look out for you once we get you all out of there. Do you hear me,
Scully? I haven't given up on you."
She smiled at the way her boss had managed to evade her, even while
making the promise. It was enough, though. "I know, sir. We
haven't given up either."
Rick moved forward then and said, "Walt, we'll talk with you soon, all
right?"
"Okay. Soon."
And then they disconnected.
Scully saw Rick approach her and raised her head. His words
surprised her, initially. "Dana, I'm going into the office next door for a
few minutes. I want to make a quick call, all right?"
The tears came then as she realized he was going to call his family.
Perhaps for the last time. And then it occurred to her that she should
probably do the same. And Jason probably would want to call some
people, also.
She said, "Listen, everyone. Why don't we meet back here in fifteen
minutes, all right? That will give us enough time to finalize plans, just
in case we do try this. Fifteen minutes, okay?"
The two men nodded to her and each left to go to a different office.
She took a couple steps forward and then sank down into the chair by
the phone they'd been using for the past seven and a half hours. Then
she picked it up and dialed a familiar number.
It rang three times and then picked up. And she said, "Hi, Mom? It's
Dana."
*******************************************
Rand got up off the floor where he'd been sitting next to Mulder and
leaned forward into the cockpit. He yelled at the pilot over the noise of
the engine and rotor, "Can you push it any more? We're going too
slow!"
The pilot looked at him as if he were crazy and yelled back, "We're
already at a hundred ten percent. Are you trying to kill us?"
Rand merely shook his head and sank back down to the floor. He
looked at his watch again, then raised his left hand to his face and
rubbed at it wearily. Looked to the left where Burgos was somehow
hanging on, then over to his right where Mulder was finally starting to
stir. He reached down and grabbed the agent's right hand in his and
squeezed it tightly.
"Hey, shit for brains. Come on and wake up. We're almost there.
You need to get ready for your lady love."
He knew the man wasn't completely awake and felt only slightly guilty
at making such statements. After all, he had eyes. He had some
degree of common sense. Just because this little twit was blind and
evidently deaf and dumb, didn't mean he was.
Mulder groaned a little and then the man's eyelashes started to flutter.
"Come on, Mulder. Wake up, will you? I could use you awake and
alert for this."
The fluttering continued for a good ten seconds and then there was an
accompanying shift of body parts. Mulder's arms and legs started
jostling for position and squeezed the man's hand once more. Then
was relieved when the eyes finally stayed open and seemed to focus on
his face.
"Hey, you with me, Spooks?"
"Rand?"
"Yeah, man. What did you think?"
The younger agent seemed disoriented. That was all right with Rand.
Maybe Mulder wouldn't remember a certain slap.
"Where are we?"
"We're en route to the plant." He glanced at his watch and then added,
"ETA six minutes."
He watched as the man absorbed this information and then evidently
decided to sit. He helped him as he struggled upright and asked, "How
are you feeling?"
Mulder winced a bit and glanced down at the bandage that wrapped
around much of the right side of his chest. Then down at his leg where
matching white could be seen through the ripped trouser leg. Mulder
dragged his head up to look directly at him and said, "Not bad, all
things considered."
Then the man got the oddest look and added in a voice that turned
harder with every word, "But my face hurts. Feels like someone
slapped me."
Many people had tried to shake him up over the years. Had tried to
make him feel guilty over one thing or another. And all had failed. But
in one fell swoop, Mulder had cut him to the quick with a razor sharp
knife of guilt and then twisted it hard.
He swallowed hard and mumbled, "Mulder, I'm sorry. I didn't realize
...." But Mulder cut him off. Waved him to shut up.
"Stop it. You were right. I'd given up."
The man struggled to turn and lean against the bench and Rand helped
him. Then Mulder said, "The last thought I had was that I had to get
back so I could die with Scully. That's what I was thinking when you
hit me." He shook his head and then grinned wryly. "I wasn't thinking
straight, obviously."
Rand discovered he was having difficulty breathing and for some
reason his gaze was cloudy. Wavering. He cleared his throat and said,
"I don't know, Mulder. I'd say you were probably thinking damned
clearly."
He shook his head and squeezed Mulder's hand once more before
dropping it. Then said, "You know you look like shit, shit for brains.
Why don't we at least find you a shirt to wear?"
He turned to one of the other agents in the compartment and demanded
a shirt. Was told there wasn't any spare clothing available. Sorry. He
then told the man to strip. And make it fast.
*******************************************
Walter Skinner was standing outside the temporary command center in
the parking lot, staring at the sky towards the north. He'd just gotten
off the phone with those inside and given them an update. He now
stood waiting for the chopper to arrive.
He looked down at his watch. 7:27 p.m. It was still several minutes
early, but he'd been praying for miracles all day. None had occurred
yet, so maybe this was a little one that could be tossed his way. Just a
little bone of an extra five minutes or so. He knew the worth of every
single second. After all, this morning he hadn't thought a loss of
thirty seconds would hurt anything. And if he hadn't made that
decision, he would have been in the parking lot in enough time to
prevent Scully and Rick from going inside the plant.
Oh, who was he kidding? If they'd gotten there thirty seconds earlier,
they'd probably all be inside, including him and Mulder. And then
where would they be? At least this way, Mulder had found Burgos.
He was interrupted from his musings by the unmistakable sound of
chopper blades, whup, whupping in the early evening stillness. Thank
God. Thank you God. Thanks for the bone.
An ambulance had been called in with the clear understanding that the
paramedics would be on the chopper and leaving the area no later than
seven-fifty. Skinner had already arranged for preserving
communications to the inside in the even they had to evacuate. He'd
made sure that they'd be able to speak with Scully and Rick, and the
plant manager, even from cell phones. It would involve a somewhat
complicated string of connections, but it was already arranged. He
prayed it wouldn't be necessary. Prayed he wouldn't be in the position
of trying to get Mulder to leave his partner behind to sure death.
Prayed he wouldn't have to make that decision for himself, either.
Because right now, from where he sat, he wasn't sure he'd be able to
do it either.
He ran out to the clear space next to the chopper and waited for the
doors to open. Then gestured to the paramedics and waved them over.
He was overcome with relief to see his agent up and walking on his
own, if looking somewhat frayed and tattered. The man was limping
just slightly, but didn't seem to be overly bothered by it. Rand walked
next to Mulder, and Skinner didn't miss the fact that the man was
gripping his agent's arm, offering support.
H approached them quickly and moved to Mulder's other side. Looked
the man over carefully and asked, "How are you, Agent Mulder?"
The man nodded to him and asked the inevitable question. "How's
Scully, sir?"
He answered honestly. "She's just fine, Mulder. They have a plan
they're going to try if Burgos can't help."
He looked behind them then to see Burgos being loaded onto a
stretcher. The paramedics were working over him in what appeared to
be frantic motions. He felt his agent's arm move in his grip and looked
at his face. "What is it, Mulder?"
The man paused and then said, "I'd like to speak to Scully, sir."
He nodded and gestured towards the command center they'd set up.
"Come sit down over here and I'll get you patched through. We'll
have a couple minutes before they bring Burgos over."
He set his agent up and then dialed in to the plant. Scully answered the
phone this time and he told her someone wanted to speak with her.
Then handed the phone to her partner. He squeezed Mulder's shoulder
then and walked over to join Rand some fifteen or so feet away. They
looked out over the parking lot, turning their gazes from the stretcher
that held the unconscious Burgos to the plant that held his agents. And
time marched on in its relentless path.
*******************************************
Mulder caught sight of the plant out the window and his heart almost
skipped a beat. They were close, finally. Almost back to Scully.
He'd be able to talk with her. And maybe even see her again, if the
Gods were benevolent.
It had felt good to see his boss again. He was surprised, actually, by
the realization that he was thankful Skinner was there. And now he
was going to talk with his partner. He didn't have much time.
Certainly not enough to say what needed to be said. But he just needed
to hear her voice again. It was the most important thing in the world
right now.
Skinner handed him the phone and he put it to his ear carefully. Then
concentrated to keep his voice steady as he said, "Scully, it's me."
He heard the quick intake of breath at the other end and raised his left
hand to his eyes quickly. Pressed hard.
"Hey, Scully. What? No words for your partner who just braved the
Virginia wilds on your behalf?"
He'd set the tone for the conversation and knew instinctively that she'd
follow his lead. And she didn't disappoint.
"The wilds of Virginia? Mulder, the most wild thing you were likely to
run into was a drunk cow-tipper . Did you? Run into a drunk cow-
tipper, that is?"
He smiled, even as he rubbed at his eyes even harder.
"Naw. Just a coupla drunk cows."
Her laughter was music that touched a chord in his soul.
"So, Scully, I hear you got some plan you're gonna try out."
He dropped his hand from his eyes. Switched the phone to his other
ear. His throat was completely dry and he tried hard to generate
enough saliva to at least allow a swallow.
She said, "Yes. It would help if we could speak with Burgos for a
minute. Do you think that might be possible?"
He looked out into the parking lot where the paramedics were still
doing whatever it was they were doing. "Not sure at this point,
partner. The paramedics don't seem to be real hopeful. Is there a
question that would help you? One question perhaps? One with a yes
or no answer might be possible."
"Yes, Mulder. If we had an answer to a single question, we'd know
whether our idea will work or not. And if not, maybe we could adjust
the plan. Do you have a pencil? Paper?"
He sighed and said, "Scully, eidetic memory. Remember? What's the
question?"
*******************************************
Skinner decided he ought to just keep his left arm raised in front of him
with the watch at his wrist clearly showing. He was looking at it every
twenty damned seconds anyway. He heard a scuffle from behind him
and was surprised to find Mulder striding towards them.
"Scully has a question for Burgos. A single question that can be
answered yes or no. I need to try to speak with him."
He nodded to his agent and watched as Mulder jogged across the lot
and approached the stretcher. He and Rand stayed where they were,
watching. Evidently Burgos was at least partially aware because
Mulder leaned over him and spoke. Stood up and then leaned over
again. Then he saw his agent reach out and grab the man's hand for a
second.
And then Mulder was racing back to the phone, not even stopping to
speak to him or Rand. They turned and followed him and were close
enough to hear Mulder say, "Did you get that, Scully. He clearly said
no."
There was silence for a few moments and Skinner was finding it almost
impossible to read his agent's face.
Then Mulder said, "But is that good or bad?"
It must not have been good because the man grimaced then and asked,
"What are you going to do?"
And after another twenty or so seconds, the man said, "Okay. And
Scully? Be careful. I still need to get that video back from you."
He saw a smile light his agent's face. "Not that one. The Superstars
of the Superbowls. Remember? You said you'd lend it to me."
He was amazed that they could be joking at a time like this, but the
alternative wasn't really any better. He heard his agent whisper a few
last words, hardly discernible from some six feet away. "I'll see you
soon, Scully. I promise."
And then the phone was placed down once more.
His agent remained frozen in place, hand on the receiver, as if unable to
move. And perhaps he was. Skinner moved over to stand next to him
and reached out to take the hand and pull it away. He then rested both
his hands on the table and leaned forward a bit. "Agent Mulder? Are
you all right?"
He immediately felt like an asshole for asking the question. Jesus,
what did he expect the man to say? Yes, sir, I'm fine, sir. My
partner's ready to get blown up into tiny little atomic particles, but I'm
hunky dory, sir.
He hung his head and shook it at his own inanity. And he was
surprised when his agent actually answered him.
"Actually, sir. I feel like my heart's been torn out of my chest and then
stomped on a few times. Other than that, I'm not too bad."
He raised his head to look his agent in the eye. "Mulder, you're not the
only one."
He stood then and put his hands to his back. For some strange reason,
he was calm. He couldn't imagine why. They should all be nervous
wrecks right now. Little puddles of goo, to be scraped up by the
nearest psychological health care professionals and poured into rooms
with white padded walls.
He looked at his watch -- again -- and decided it was time to start
making some decisions. There were two helicopters. Plenty of room
in each. He started directing the remaining few agents into one.
Directed the paramedics to accompany Burgos. Then he turned to
Rand and Mulder. And stopped.
Both men looked defiant. And he knew as surely as he'd known he
wanted to be an Agent in the Bureau that he needn't even waste his
breath. He turned back to the pilot and told him to head out. It was
sixteen to eight. No need to wait until the very last minute. But
damned if the chopper pilot didn't argue with him. Said they had six
minutes and they'd use them. He shrugged at the man and turned back
to Mulder and Rand.
He walked up to them and placed a hand on each of their shoulders.
"Well, gentlemen. Should we get comfortable?"
He looked over at Mulder and practically lost it then. The younger man
was staring at him with such gratitude and admiration. And it almost
made him cry again.
Mulder turned to face him head on and said merely, voice soft, "Thank
you, sir." But he understood there was more behind the words. And
he was grateful for it. He nodded and gestured over to the table by the
land phone connecting to the plant.
They made their respective ways over and sat down. It was quite
bizarre, actually. The closest thing he could remember to this was a
time when he was in Vietnam. His squad was due to head out in two
hours into an area known for its ambushes. Something on the order of
seventy percent losses had been suffered by the previous squads that
had attempted to clear the area and they knew they weren't likely to do
any better. But they sat around telling stories and jokes right up until
the last moment, when they had to move out. This was sort of like
that. At least he was in good company.
His gaze turned to Rand then and he asked, "So what the hell kind of
name is Rand, anyway? I mean, is it your first name? Your last? A
nickname? What?"
Mulder started laughing and he again felt an appreciation for the man's
warped sense of humor. Rand had a smile on his face and proved he
could be just as warped when he responded dryly, "Well, I could tell
you ... But then I'd have to kill you."
Mulder laughed harder at that and he could only grimace. Sick was one
thing, but that was just too sick. The laughter dwindled off as one of
the helicopters took off and headed north. One down, one to go.
He looked at his watch and realized that whatever they were going to
do inside had probably already started. He wished them luck. Jesus,
he wished them all luck.
*******************************************
Scully wiped the sweat from her forehead yet again and looked back at
the notes on the page in her hand. She tried to see what Jason was
doing and wasn't really successful.
"How's it going, Jason?"
The man's voice was muffled when he responded. "Okay. Another
minute."
She nodded back at Rick who stood holding a few tools at the ready.
She looked back to the notes and said, "Tell me when you're done,
Jason. We're about a minute behind here."
"Jesus, Dana. I don't need more pressure, you know?"
She managed to sound contrite when she said, "Sorry."
He jerked back then from the mass of wires and said, "Done. Next."
They stood and moved quickly to the next set of wires. Scully glanced
at her watch. Jesus, seven till. Would they actually make it in time?
And then Jason yelled out, "Done. Next." And they moved on.
*******************************************
Mulder was slouched in the uncomfortable chair, legs stretched out in
front of him. The other chopper had left a good four minutes or so ago
and now it was just the three of them out there. The pilot had looked at
them like they were crazy and he guessed they were. All three of them.
At least he wasn't alone anymore.
They'd lapsed into a companionable silence when the second chopper
took off. It was calming, somehow. But they all jerked when the
phone rang.
He reached out quickly and grabbed it. Said, "Mulder."
There was a moment of silence before his partner said, "Mulder, we're
almost there. I just wanted to check in and let you know we're ready.
If it doesn't work, be sure you relay the information to the proper
authorities. That way, if it ever happens again, they'll know what not
to try."
He bit his lower lip, then gave the lie his best shot. "Okay, Scully. I'll
pass that information along." He closed his eyes tightly and just
breathed. Then held his breath so he could hear his partner breathe.
There it was. She was breathing. In and out. It was right there, by
his ear and he could almost imagine she was in the same room with
him. He'd remember this always. The quietness and her breathing.
Always and forever.
But then she spoke and he had to wipe at his eyes and nose hastily.
"Talk with you soon, partner."
"Very soon ... partner." And the word was a caress as he said it. And
he meant it to mean everything he could never say. My Love. My
Life. And he heard the catch in her breathing then and knew she
understood, even as she disconnected the call. And he reached out and
replaced the phone once more to its place.
*******************************************
Scully looked over at Rick and said, "Ready?"
He nodded and picked up the switch that was connected to a box. The
box had some thirty-five or forty wires running out of it -- each of
which was connected in turn to a location in one of the many panels
open in the control center consoles.
She looked at Jason then and waited for his nod. Glanced at the clock
and decided they couldn't delay any longer. "Okay, Jason, keep tabs
on the temperature in the core."
"Got it."
"And gentlemen ... it's been a pleasure." She took a deep breath and
then looked at Rick again. "Hit it." And then Rick flipped the switch
as she counted off out loud, "Five, four, three, two, one." He flipped
it off then.
And she closed her eyes then and counted internally. And her partner's
face was in front of her, crooked grin and stray piece of hair hanging
over his forehead. And she wanted more than anything to be able to
reach out and brush it off his face.
She opened her eyes and said, "Again. Five, four, three, two, one."
Then turned to Jason and said, "Any movement?"
"Up another degree. We got about three more degrees to play with
here. That's it."
She closed her eyes again and another image flashed. A memory of
him asleep, lying on his damned couch, head tilted towards her, right
arm across his chest, and a small smile on his face. Just enough to let
her know he was having peaceful dreams.
She looked back to Rick and said, "Third time's the charm. Again.
Five, four, three, two, one." And they both stared at the plant manager
who was shaking his head.
She heard Rick sigh and then he said, "Wouldn't hurt to try once more
would it? Nothing to lose."
She nodded and closed her eyes tight. And his voice caressed her like
silk as it said 'the Truth will save you, Scully' and his arms were her
salvation.
She looked back at Rick and said, "For ten counts this time. Again.
Ten, nine, ..." As she reached one, her gaze was already focused on
Jason, expecting the shaking of his head.
But instead she saw him jerk back and was shocked when he
exclaimed, "Shit! I have control." And then he was racing from one
control panel to another, flipping switches and pushing buttons like
mad.
She pushed herself up from the chair and stumbled towards Rick, eyes
never leaving the plant manager's frantic movements. Managed to sink
down in the chair next to him and leaned against his arm. She waited
breathlessly and felt the pressure to know what was happening building
inside, fighting to break through the professional veneer she'd adopted.
She started trembling and was thankful when Rick wrapped one arm
around her.
They sat for another thirty seconds, in painful silence, before Jason
looked over at them and said, "Down four degrees and dropping. I
have complete control. I'm gonna need help in a couple minutes.
There's a lot to keep track of here. But ... I think you did it, Dana."
She couldn't keep it in any more. She let the tears come finally and
turned into the comfort Rick was offering. But she saw her partner's
face once more, clear in her mind's eye, and he was staring at her with
the Truth shining from his eyes. And she knew finally that she'd been
given another chance to make it right.
*******************************************
He sat slouched in the chair with his head hanging over the back. He
looked up into the now darkening sky and wished it were dark enough
for the stars to be out. He wanted to see the Three Leaps of the
Gazelle. Once more.
He closed his eyes and she was there, in front of him. Leaning
forward on the couch to look up into the night sky where he pointed.
And her face was filled with wonder, just inches from his own.
He opened his eyes once more and stared hard. Searched the sky from
one end to the other. And finally the North Star was there. Just
another few minutes. That's all he needed. Another few minutes and
maybe it would be dark enough. And he closed his eyes again and felt
her back against his chest as he leaned forward to point. Saw the smile
that lit her face and made his breath catch in his throat. Made his chest
ache.
And when he opened his eyes again it was just slightly darker. A few
more minutes was all he needed. But then it dawned on him that
several minutes had already passed. Actually, a whole lot of minutes
had passed. And he jerked upright and looked at his watch. And
didn't understand what he was seeing.
He turned to his boss, consumed with confusion, and saw that Skinner
was sitting upright now, too, also looking at the time. He caught the
man's eyes and shook his head, raised his hands slightly,
questioningly. Then turned to Rand and saw equal confusion.
And all of them jerked so hard they almost fell of their chairs at the
ringing of the phone. Skinner got to it first but immediately released it
to his hand as he practically threw himself across the space. And
breathlessly he managed to say, "Mulder."
And there was silence then, long enough for him to start to worry. But
just as he began to speak again, she said, "It's me. We have control
again. The core temp's dropping fast. The coolant system is
operational once more. Emergency systems should be released in
another half hour or so. You can come back now, Mulder."
The last sentence had practically been whispered and it touched him in a
way nothing else she'd said had. Because he could hear it in her
words. She'd known. She'd known he hadn't left.
He struggled for breath, struggled for control over muscles that had
failed him. And he realized that somehow he'd ended up on his knees
on the ground, and his head rested on his arm that stretched across the
table in front of him. But the phone was still up to his ear somehow.
"Mulder, are you there?"
"Yes," he gasped out. "Scully, we're here. I'm here."
And then he knew there was a God and He was benevolent. He'd see
his Scully again. And he turned his face into his arm and thanked Him.
The phone was pulled from his limp fingers and he heard his boss'
voice then, calm and sure.
"Agent Scully, how are you all? What's the situation?"
Then there was silence and he could imaging his Scully repeating to her
boss what she'd told him seconds ago. And he could see her face in
front of him and all he wanted was to reach out and touch it. Touch
her. And he'd be able to now.
There were hands on his arms, pulling at him, forcing him up and he
tried to help. He opened his eyes and saw his boss and Rand on either
side of him. They were there, helping him to stand and Skinner said,
"Come on, Mulder. Not much longer now and we'll be able to get
them out of there. Why don't you sit down here?"
He allowed himself to be led. Allowed himself to be seated, but then
he knew this wasn't where he needed to be. He looked around and
saw the abandoned chairs scattered in disarray. Took in the tables, the
phone, the pads of paper and empty coffee cups. And then finally
managed to turn his gaze to the building where his partner was now.
He forced himself out of the chair, pushed at the hands that were there,
trying to keep him back, and started walking. He could hear their
voices shouting from behind and knew they intended well, but they
didn't understand. He knew where he belonged. He started jogging
then, slow and somewhat awkwardly with a slight limp. But the pain
didn't bother him. He barely noticed it. He saw the door and started
jogging a bit harder, a bit faster. He was up to the top tier finally and
ran to the door, put his hands on it, flat. Lowered his head so that his
forehead rested against the smooth steel.
Just a few feet away. She was there and he'd see her soon. He turned
and put his back to the door then. Allowed himself to slide so that he
sat with knees up, back against the door. He'd be there when she came
out. And it would be soon. And then he looked up into the sky and
saw that night had fallen finally. The stars were out and the Three
Leaps were clear high up in the cloudless sky. And he could almost
see the Gazelle leaping right past the Bear to join His Love across The
Pond.
*******************************************
The parking lot had become crowded once more with all the old players
back in attendance. Skinner sighed and looked at his watch. Smiled at
the familiarity of the gesture, and then even more at the realization that
he'd have many more minutes and hours and days to repeat it in the
future.
He dropped his arm again and looked up towards the building. He'd
given instructions to hold back until the door was open and those inside
emerged. It should give them the time they needed.
He could see the figure there -- his agent. Still sitting with back to the
door and head tilted, as if looking up into the night sky. And perhaps
the man was. He smiled a bit and then turned back to the insanity
around him. Time to clamp down on some of the chaos here. At least
this was something he had some control over.
*******************************************
She turned to Jason and nodded, then moved to the next readout. "It's
at seventeen point two."
He smiled a bit more broadly and nodded back at her. "Fantastic.
Right on target."
Rick asked, "How much longer, do you think?"
"Any minute, I'd say. Believe me, we'll be the first to know. I could
use a little silence after all these damned sirens."
And as if it were magic, the moment he said the words, the sirens
stopped. Scully's breath caught and she stood abruptly. "Are you
okay here, Jason?"
The man nodded and smiled at her. "Go. Go. I can handle it. Send
in a team as soon as you can."
And then she was running for the door. Running to see her partner. It
was still closed and she almost slid in trying to stop in time. She put
her hands against the cool steel and rested her forehead against it. Just
a few feet. Only a few feet away. He was out there somewhere. She
knew it.
And then there was movement under her hands and almost before she
knew it, the door had slid smoothly up, into the structure of the
building above. She heard a thunk and looked down.
He was there, below her, lying on his back, legs propped up, but
splayed. His head practically lying on her feet. He seemed partly
dazed, but wore that goofy grin she'd come to love.
She was so surprised she didn't even realize what she was saying until
she'd said it. "Mulder, what the Hell are you doing down there?"
The grin grew wider into an actual smile and he said, "Just resting,
Scully. Took you guys long enough. I fell asleep waiting."
It didn't seem like her partner was in any rush to move and a little part
of her didn't want him to. She took a step to his right side and sank
down next to him. He was just staring up at her, smiling like he'd just
won the lottery. And then she realized she was, too.
He reached his right hand up and grabbed her hand in his. And she
almost cried in sheer relief and happiness when he said, "It's good to
see you again, Scully." And then his voice was a husky whisper as he
added, "Really good."
She couldn't answer. Just nodded and smiled down at him. And then
she reached out and brushed that pesky strand of hair back out of his
face. And their hands were still linked, fingers entwined so that it was
almost impossible to determine where one started and the other ended.
And she never wanted to let go again. Wanted nothing more than to sit
next to him forever, with the star-lit sky above.
*******************************************
The relief teams had moved in within minutes and were now cycling
the plant down. Skinner had commandeered a table and cluster of
chairs. The night had started to cool and he'd arranged for jackets to be
brought. Mulder, Scully and Rick wore them now, the letters FBI
blazing from every surface.
Mulder and Scully sat to his right and Rick and Rand were to his left.
There were quite a few loose ends to tie up, but he figured most of
them would just have to wait a bit. But obviously, Mulder's curiosity
wasn't going to be abated until the man got the full story.
Mulder had turned to his partner and asked, "So what exactly did you
do? How did you gain control?"
Skinner was surprised to see that she seemed almost embarrassed. She
shifted in her seat and leaned forward over the table, hands gripped
tightly in front of her. Glanced over at Rick before beginning.
"Well, we determined the most likely locations in the overall control
structure where the sensing and diagnostic system might have the
greatest impact. We had to speculate here as we didn't have the actual
plans for the system that had been installed."
"Yeah, okay. You guessed."
He fought a grin as she shot her partner a disgusted look.
"No, Mulder. We made educated deductions based on probabilities
and past performance parameters."
"Okay, so you didn't guess. What then?"
Scully shifted again and looked down at her hands, then cleared her
throat before continuing. He was getting really interested now. What
in the world would make her so uncomfortable?
"Well, once we identified these circuits and connections, we physically
connected leads that would allow us to change the current."
She was silent again and now Skinner found he wanted to know. He
beat Mulder to the question and asked, "Agent Scully, what exactly did
you do?"
She breathed heavily, almost in disgust and then said, directly to him,
"We sort of shocked the system, sir. Several times. We ran a current
through the network of connections four times for a duration of five to
ten seconds."
Mulder's voice cut through the night then. Almost indignant.
Definitely incredulous. "You gave it electro-shock therapy?"
Skinner smiled as Scully rushed to defend their actions.
"Well, yes. I mean that's sort of the analogy."
Mulder had dropped both feet to the ground and now sat back in his
chair, turned slightly to face his partner almost head on. His agent
seemed offended as he demanded, "That was all?"
His other agent was starting to get equally perturbed now. She also sat
back and turned towards Mulder. "What do you mean? Why do you
sound angry, Mulder?"
And he could swear the younger man practically sputtered as he said,
"It's ... it's ... anti-climactic."
He couldn't help the smile then. And it grew as Scully said, "You're
upset because there wasn't more melodrama? What do you think this
is? Television?"
He laughed out loud, even as Rick and Rand joined in. Both his agents
relaxed then and eventually started smiling at each other. And then
Mulder leaned forward and said, "Good job, Agent Scully."
*******************************************
Friday, 10:27 a.m.
Richmond Bureau Office, Command Center
It seemed so familiar, sitting here around the table. The farmhouse had
been packed up and everything had been returned. But not his wall.
The cards and all their connections had been taken down and were now
stuffed in a box somewhere. Mulder looked around at the faces at the
table and he realized that things weren't the same. Not at all.
Everything had changed during this case.
When he and Scully had started this case almost two weeks before he'd
been exhausted. Physically and emotionally drained. He had started to
hate his job. Had hated what he perceived to be the fact that no one
trusted him or had faith in him. Had felt lost and helpless, with
nothing to believe in. No anchor to keep him sane. Except for Scully.
He'd still had Scully.
But something had happened along the way. He'd grown up, perhaps.
That was part of it. But basically, he'd just grown. And come to
realize that sometimes the journey was the destination. Sometimes it
was worth doing something that was destined to fail because the mere
doing of it would bring its own benefits.
He breathed deeply and looked around at the people in the room again,
talking softly with each other. Scully and Rick were leaning in towards
each other and he couldn't catch what they were saying, but both had
smiles on their faces. And to his left, Skinner and Rand were
speaking. And neither looked ready to kill the other.
He looked down at his watch and saw it was just about time to start.
Almost ten-thirty now. But no one was really in a rush. They had
plenty of time.
Skinner's voice was clearly audible then, as he said, "Why don't we
get through this quickly, people?"
The man picked up a piece of paper in front of him and then looked
back up to pan his gaze around the table.
"First item of business is an update on the plant. They cycled it down
last night and are removing the sensing system completely. The DIA
and NSA have agents on-site, evidently."
He glanced over at Rand to see the NSA agent shift in his seat a bit.
Then shrug as if to say, 'hey, I only work there.'
Skinner continued. "It'll be shut down for a month at the minimum.
But then it'll be back up and running with no problems."
His boss turned his head to where Scully and Rick sat and said, "The
DIA want to talk with you both, by the way. I told them you'd be
available. Just to make arrangements with you directly."
They both nodded.
"All citizens have been permitted to return to their homes as of 9:00
a.m. this morning. Situation normal."
The smile faded then and Mulder understood why at his boss' next
words. "Burgos passed away last night. He made it to the hospital but
didn't survive the surgery. The doctors sent word that nothing could
have saved him. Not even getting to the hospital a couple hours
earlier."
He felt a tightness in his chest release and was able to breathe a little
easier then. He glanced at Rand and saw a similar reaction.
"Burgos managed to give our people a little more information before he
died. He gave us a name that our people were then able to connect to
Jeffries. Jeffrey E. Kreppenden, Jr."
Mulder jerked in surprise and said, "What? The fifth richest man in
America?"
"Well, seventh, actually. He evidently dropped a bit last year."
Rand was also sitting straighter and turned to Skinner. "What the hell
does he have to do with this?"
Skinner was shaking his head. "Murder for hire. Actually, terrorism
for hire. Our people have been working with yours, Rand. They
figure he got something on the order of fifty million for the Evansville
job."
Mulder sank back into the chair, stunned, and turned to his partner.
"You were right, Scully. It was all about money. Fucking money."
He felt drained by the reality but then realized there was still a missing
answer. He looked back to his boss and asked, "Who hired Jeffries?
Why blow up a nuclear power plant?"
Skinner raised his hands in a 'Hell if I know gesture' and said, "We're
just not sure yet. Our people are still working on that part. But I
promise you, we'll find out. The Truth is out there, Agent Mulder, and
I have faith that we'll find it."
*******************************************
The last time he'd walked out these doors in broad daylight, he'd ended
up being chased by a black sedan and practically getting himself killed.
This time, he had his service weapon, his back-up, his cell phone, and
most importantly, his partner.
"Come on, Scully. The park's just over there. We have a good hour
before we have to leave."
"All right, Mulder. But I swear, if any magazines come flying at us out
of nowhere, I'm gonna just shoot the messenger and drag your ass
right back to the Bureau. You got me?"
He laughed as they walked down the steps and then headed for the
park. "Don't worry, you won't have to do any dragging. Not that I
would mind you dragging my ass anywhere. I mean, don't get me
wrong, Scully. I'd love to have you dragging my ass."
"Mulder, get your mind out of the gutter for a change."
"The gutter? You're the one who started it, you know. If you didn't
want to talk about my ass you shouldn't have brought it up."
God, this felt so good. This easy, friendly banter with the person who
meant most to him in the entire world. And to think that some fifteen
hours ago he'd been sure they'd never be doing this again. He looked
over and down and grinned at her. His partner. His friend. And then
he remembered what he'd called her in his thoughts. 'My Scully.'
'My Love.' 'My Life.'
She shook her head in mock disgust and grabbed his hand as she
prepared to step out into the street. "Come on, Mulder. Stay with me.
I'll make sure nothing happens to that ass of yours on the way across
the street."
He laughed again and let her pull him across. And once they'd gotten
across he squeezed her hand hard before she dropped it. Yes, indeed,
there was a God. And He was kind.
"Hey, Scully, so you gonna lend me that tape or what?"
*******************************************
The End
(Feedback is greatly appreciated and can be sent to
clb@eng.buffalo.edu)
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