by Vickie Moseley |
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Part Ten
Nothing Important 10: Provenance
Scully opened her eyes and found herself back in Mulder's apartment. The desk by the window was scuttled, the drawers pulled out and scattered on the floor, the contents of the middle drawer tumbled mostly on the seat of the chair. His iron shoe bookend had landed on the framed picture of a 12 year-old Fox and a 7 year-old Samantha leaning and grinning against a huge tree trunk. The glass of the frame was broken and as she bent down to pick it up, a sliver sliced her thumb. She stared at her injury, the impact of what she was seeing hit her hard in the gut. He was gone. She expected overwhelming sorrow. She didn't quite understand her actual reaction -- abject fury. Fury at Skinner for being obtuse enough not to believe them until he witnessed it for himself. Fury at the Bureau for treating the search for Mulder like he was a criminal instead of a victim. But mostly, fury at the man himself, her lover, her partner, the man who swore to her just days before his undying devotion and who promised never -- never ever -- to leave her. Damn them all to hell, and let Mulder lead the parade! The images before her shifted and suddenly she was standing in a forest. She recognized the foliage; it was the forest outside Bellefleur, Oregon -- their first case. She expected to see Billy Miles standing in a clearing with Theresa Nemman. Instead, she saw Skinner and Mulder placing positioning stakes around an area of tall trees. She watched as Mulder looked up and she looked in that direction, too. A beam of light had suddenly appeared. With a glance back to Skinner, she saw that he was oblivious to the light. Mulder saw it. Mulder walked straight toward it. She tried to scream out to him, tell him to stop, but he kept on walking. His face was set in a determined expression she knew all too well, but there was a look of wonder in his eyes and even -- oh, god, no -- anticipation! He kept walking toward the beam of light. He glanced back once and she thought he might have seen her. She waved her arms and shouted louder. He turned back to the light and kept walking. Finally, he was standing in the light and she was running toward him as fast as she could but the light just winked out and he was gone. "Damn you, Mulder," she cried out in her sleep. A hand immediately touched and then squeezed her shoulder. "Scully?" His voice was rough from lack of sleep and long hours on the road. She blinked her eyes open. Where was she? Not in a forest, that was certain. She was in the front passenger seat of a car, a large SUV. She looked over and saw him sitting there in the driver's seat, staring at her curiously. For a split second, it was as if all the horrors and wonders of the past year had been a dream. They were on a case, driving aimlessly down another interstate highway. "You OK?" he asked. Mulder reached for her hand and grasped her fingers. "Scully, you're freezing! Here, let me turn down the A/C." He let go of her hand long enough to fiddle with a button on the dash. "Did you have a nightmare?" She sat up, and as she did her thoughts cleared. It felt like a veil was slowly lifting off not only her jumbled thoughts but also her emotions. Some spectral images coalesced into thoughts and finally a question. A question she had avoided asking for almost a year and now it seemed to consume her thoughts. "Mulder, what do you remember about your abduction?" He blinked over at her. A look of fear crossed his eyes, quickly replaced by sympathy. "Were you dreaming about Duane Barry? Scully, I'm sorry if -- " "I didn't dream about Barry. What I dreamt doesn't matter, I asked you a question. What do you remember about your trip out to Oregon with Skinner when you were taken?" He licked his lips and stared out at the road ahead. "Nothing." "Nothing?" she countered. The way he'd said it, refusing to look her in the eye spoke volumes. "Mulder, you must remember something. How did they take you? Did they pin you immobile? Did they sneak up behind you? How did it happen? "Scully, are you interrogating me?" he shot back, anger in his voice. "Answer the question, Mulder," she said, biting off each word. "You know, Skinner beat himself up for months over your abduction. He agonized over every second of that day. He assured me that he didn't hear a sound, never heard you cry out for help . . ." "What difference does it make?" he cried out in exasperation. "I was abducted. What? Do you now think I ran away?" "No." She waited until he took his eyes off the road and looked at her. "I think you walked into it willingly." There was no sound in the car, no air. Suddenly, Mulder jerked the wheel to the right and the bounced off the pavement onto the shoulder. He braked hard, gravel sailing under the abuse of the tires. Before the car had completely stopped, he was out of the door and pacing the edge of the field next to the road. She sat there for a moment, trying to decide if it was safe for her to go to him. She wasn't at all worried for her life -- she was more worried what she would do to him when she got near him. Finally, he looked back at her through the windshield and she saw the remorse in his eyes. Slowly she unbuckled her seatbelt and opened the door. Mindful of the wind from an eighteen-wheeler that whizzed by her, she made her way over to her partner. "Mulder?" He drew in a deep breath. "I went out there to save you, Scully. You have to believe that," he said in rush. She nodded her head but said nothing. This was his turn to talk, not hers. "We got out there, and I don't know what I was expecting," he continued, turning away from her, pacing a small patch of grass at the side of the road. "Skinner -- Skinner is completely blameless in this. I never thought -- I didn't think for a minute that he would assume he had any part in it." She didn't give an inch. She crossed her arms but kept her expression passive. She didn't want him to get scared and clam up. "I saw a light. It was a beam of light. It was just as you described it in your hypnosis after Ruskin Dam." He actually looked at her for a moment before his eyes skittered away. "Anyway, I saw this light and . . . I walked over to it." "Just like that," she said, no question in her voice. "Scully . . ." He threw his head back as if invoking something from the heavens to help him plead his case. When nothing was forthcoming, he dropped his chin to his chest. "OK, yes, I walked into it. I walked into that beam of light. And when I got there, I saw that I wasn't alone. I saw Theresa Nemmen, Hoese, whatever her name is. I saw so many people. And when I looked back, I could still see Skinner, placing those tracers like nothing was out of the ordinary." He shivered suddenly, even though the sun was warm. "You didn't fight it," she said evenly. "God, Scully, what do you want?" he exclaimed, throwing his arms in the air. "No, I didn't fight it. I walked into the beam willingly. There, I've confessed now. Can I have absolution?" he sneered angrily. She bit her lip and stared off at the cars speeding past on the interstate. "He was there," Mulder said quietly. That got her attention. She glanced over at him and raised her eyebrow. He licked his lips nervously. "The Bounty Hunter. The . . . the one that almost killed me in Alaska." She closed her eyes. The pain, the fear in his eyes was too much to bear at that moment. "That's when I knew I was in deep shit," he said succinctly. "Mulder . . ." "No, Scully. Let's get this all out. Let me tell you _everything_ I remember. So, I see the Bounty Hunter and he looks at me like I'm a piece of prime rib and then suddenly we're floating, up, up, up and I try to call out -- God as my witness, Scully, I tried to call out to Skinner at that moment. So yes, I did fight. I fought like a maniac and it got me nothing. I couldn't move. They put something over me, a field or something and it was like I stuck my finger in a light socket -- every nerve in my body exploded in pain. I passed out. "When I woke up, I was strapped to this . . . chair. I was naked and there were . . . " He closed his eyes and she could see perspiration dotting his forehead and upper lip. " . . . there were spikes through my wrists and ankles," he said in a rush. "That's when the real fun started," he said bitterly. "They drilled my teeth -- I know, how cliché, right? But that was just the teaser, that wasn't even the opening act." He chuckled, but it was harsh with the sound of unshed tears. "They took a buzz saw to my chest, Scully!" he cried out in anguish. "They ripped my chest open and the blood and the bone flew in my face and I couldn't move . . . " He drew in a deep, shuddering breath. "I . . . I just . . . " His voice choked and tears were streaming down his face. "I just wanted to go home," he sobbed, bringing his hands up to cover his face. She stood there, speechless for a long time, or so she thought. She finally found the strength to go over to him. First, she pulled his hands down from his face and replaced them with her own. Then she guided his head down to rest on her shoulder as she encircled him in her arms. "Shhhh. It's over. I'm sorry, Mulder. I'm sorry I made you relive that. I just . . . I just had to know . . . " "I didn't leave you willingly, Scully," he sobbed into her neck. "God, please, if you believe nothing else, please believe that. I promised I would never leave and I meant it, please, please believe me . . . " "Shhhh, Mulder. It's all right. It's over. It's all over," she whispered into his ear. "I never would have gone into that beam if I'd known," he whispered hoarsely "I never would have . . . I knew . . . I knew as they were torturing me that I was going to die on that ship . . . and all I could think was that I'd never get back to you and you'd never know what had happened to me." "Shh, it's all right. I believe you, Mulder. I believe you never meant to leave me." She gently pushed him off her shoulder, taking his face in her hands. "Mulder, look at me," she ordered. When he finally let his eyes rest on her face she smiled. "I know. I know. You just wanted to see what it was. Your curiosity got the better of you. It's just like when you stuck your hand in Tooms' nest." "Oh, geez, Scully. You have to remember that, of all our cases together?" he chuckled brokenly. She kissed him fervently on the lips. "Yes. Because that's exactly how our son will be when he grows up. So forewarned is forearmed," she said through a watery smile.
"OK. But I'll drive for a while. You rest." He took her in his arms and kissed the top of her head. "That's too good an offer to refuse."
FBI Headquarters X Files office 8:45 am
Monica Reyes looked intently at the computer screen, chewing her bottom lip. She would have killed for a cigarette, but couldn't take the time to go all the way out of the building to grab a quick smoke. Time was of the essence. Her heart was heavy, but she could no longer afford to ignore the evidence. Something was going on with her partner. His prolonged absences, his truncated phone calls when she entered the room, not to mention his obsession with all things concerning Dana Scully -- something was going on. It didn't take advanced training to know her partner was looking for Dana Scully. What scared Monica was the reason he was searching for one of the two founding members of the X Files division. Had concern turned to desire and now obsession? It wasn't a stretch. She knew John had feelings for Dana, had heard it in his voice when he'd first talked to her on the phone about his new 'partner'. And when Mulder was returned dead, it seemed that John just had to bide his time and things would go in a more romantic direction. Then Mulder was 'resurrected', for lack of a better term. Monica had been amazed, incredulous when she heard the news. Fox Mulder returned from the dead! That was something you didn't hear every millennium. But her second thought, quick on the heels of her first was what that would mean for John Doggett? When she was completely honest with herself, Monica Reyes knew that the reason she'd had no long-term attachments in the past few years was the result of her working with John Doggett. She berated herself constantly. He had been married when they first met. But they'd remained somewhat in touch, mostly through her determination not to let him wallow in self-accusation and despair. He'd called her when Barbara sent him the divorce papers. Monica knew all too well the patience that 'waiting for that special moment' required. In that, she could very much sympathize with John when Mulder suddenly appeared back in the flesh. It was all so complicated. But of one thing Monica was perfectly clear -- Dana Scully's heart belonged to Fox Mulder and there was never an instant when that devotion could be called into question. John Doggett, although a strong force was nothing against a partnership that had been forged through years, tempered by the fires of both heaven and hell and had come together in sacred union to form the miracle that was their son. John never had a chance with Dana, but Monica was afraid that he would never admit that to himself. She had tried to help John see that reality, to make him understand that she was ready to take Dana's place in his affections. Unfortunately, in the same way that Dana would never turn her eye toward John, he seemed unable to turn his eye toward Monica. It was a triangle right out of an ancient Greek tragedy and as such, required a tragic hero. Most people would paint Mulder in that role, but Monica knew the truth. Greek heroes in tragedies weren't the guys who got the girl; they were the men with the fatal flaws that ultimately spelled their doom. Such was John Doggett. Dana Scully was his fatal flaw. It hadn't taken her long after her first contact with Dana to admire the woman's strengths. After seeing how finding Mulder dead had almost broken her that Monica became very protective of Dana. Although they hadn't had the best of first encounters, subsequent meetings assured Monica that Fox Mulder was deserving of Dana's love and devotion. He was also included in Monica's sphere of protection -- whether the big lug liked or even realized it. So it was that Monica came into contact with three others who were cast in the role of guardian angels. Monica had become a gunman. They had been suspicious at first, but it didn't take long for the three conspiracy theorists to take her into their fold. She knew she didn't have their full confidences yet. That would come with time and when she'd proved herself worthy. But for now, at least, they allowed her in when it suit their purposes. Like now. Monica stared at the computer screen again. The information she'd had sent to her home computer had upset her, but the image before her chilled her to the bone. Satellite photos, high intensity, of a military compound somewhere in the western states. The quality of the photography would have amazed her had she not been so appalled at what the images conveyed. Dana Scully walked right into a trap. When she saw who was waiting for the trap to spring shut, she closed her eyes. The door opened, and with a flick of her wrist, the image winked out to be replaced by the FBI official seal. "Monica, you're here early." John breezed in and settled into his desk -- Mulder's former desk, Monica thought darkly. "Yeah. I, uh, I wanted to go over the notes from the Fassl case before we close it out. And expense reports are due Friday." "This Friday?" he asked and bit his lip. "Damn. I thought they were due at the end of the month." "Friday is the last business day of the month, John," Monica said tersely. He looked over at her, his brow needed in confusion. "Something wrong, Monica?" She closed her eyes for a brief moment before turning to look at her partner. "John, you went up to New York last week, didn't you?" she asked. She watched his face closely. First, it was a look of shock, then a brief glimpse of anger, replaced by a mask of confusion. "Yeah. Remember, the D.A. needed me to finish up some stuff up there. Why?" Monica's stomach clenched at his lie. "I couldn't find your travel receipt. I called the airlines." She turned back to her computer, forcing herself to retain her composure. "They didn't have you listed as traveling on either day to or from New York." There was silence in the office for a moment and Monica could hear her heart pounding in her chest. "Well, that's because I went under my alias -- John Doe," he said with a snort. "Monica, the airlines screw up all the time. I did express check in. They probably have me listed as 'Federal B. Investigation'. I have that receipt right here in my briefcase. I'll dig it out for you and because you had to go to all that trouble, I'll even finish the report for you. How's that sound?" She blinked and then slowly nodded. "Yes, that would be super. Thanks." She typed a little more and then turned to smile at her partner. "I just emailed you the form with what I already had. Shouldn't take you too long now." "Terrific," he replied with a matching grin. She pulled her purse out of the bottom drawer of her desk and stood. "I'm just gonna step outside for a sec." "Those new patches aren't working as well as you hoped, huh?" he said sympathetically. "Actually," she smiled, "they are. I just need to go to ladies room." "Oh, sorry," he nodded self-consciously. She smiled back at him and closed the door behind her as she left. Turning to the stairs rather than the ladies room, she hurried out of the building, digging through her purse for her cell phone. The phone was to her ears before she cleared the landing at the lobby. "It's Monica. You were right," she said with clipped emphasis. "Yeah, well, it doesn't make us feel any better," Frohike replied on the other end of the line. "What do you want me to do?" she asked, walking through the front doors and down the street. "At the moment, nothing. Just keep an eye on him. If he goes somewhere without you, let us know immediately." "OK," she answered, sighing. "Agent Reyes, did he seem suspicious of your questions?" Frohike asked. She smiled at his worried tone. "No. He covered well. But it was obvious that it was a cover. He thinks I bought it, but I didn't. John has always underestimated me. A lot of people do," she said with a frown. "Well, just be careful. You're all we've got to keep track of his movements. Stick to him like glue, if you can. If you can't, let us know right away." "I've got it. I'll be in touch," she said, closing down her phone. She walked back toward the entrance, walking past the smokers. She gave them a wave and a lingering look, but straightened her back and headed through the doors. That damn habit was going to kill her one day she thought to herself. Doggett waited until he heard her footsteps on the nearby fire stairs. Moving silently, he pulled out his cell phone. "My partner is getting too close. I need instructions." Without waiting for a reply, he hit the disconnect button. He shifted through the papers on his desk so that he would appear to be hard at work when she returned. It really was a shame. He'd grown rather fond of Monica. Oregon Cave Junction, OR Maggie was just finishing up a quick diaper change when Alex came into the bedroom. The baby looked at him with his usual befuddled expression. "I just got word," he said without introduction. Maggie drew in a breath. "Dana?" Alex smiled. "Dana, yes and Fox. They're both on their way here now. They should be here in about 12 hours." Her hand went immediately to make the sign of the cross. "Thank God." "So, we need to get you guys packed up, maybe make a picnic basket for the road." She nodded, picking up the baby and shifting him to her shoulder. "I should make sure we have bottles and enough formula. How long do you think we'll be traveling?" He shrugged his broad shoulders. "I have no idea. But I would prepare for a couple of days at least." She nodded and then looked down at William, wide-awake and not the least bit interested in taking a nice convenient nap while preparations were made. "If it's all right with you -- I can take him," Alex offered. Maggie smiled gratefully at him. "Would you mind?" "Of course not. We're friends, aren't we, Buddy," he said, reaching for the baby with his good arm. Maggie helped him position the baby on his shoulder. "It won't take me long," she promised. "Take your time. We'll be fine," he assured her. He kept talking to the baby as he left the room. She smiled and got to work. The butterflies in her stomach were as real as any she'd ever felt. Since she'd started on this journey her one goal was to see her daughter. She understood the need for Dana and Fox to go into hiding, but that didn't mean she liked it at all. Now, with that goal only 12 hours away, she couldn't wait. She'd just have to keep herself busy to make the time go by faster. Alex took the baby to the living room of the cabin, setting him down in his car seat. "What can I tell ya, kid. You have a strange life ahead of you -- if you survive, that is. Your mom's one hot babe, but she's got this major blind spot -- your old man. If not for him, she'd be top dog in one of the biggest operations on the planet, maybe in the galaxy. As for your old man, well, I hope for your sake that insanity and self-destruction aren't hereditary." William crossed his eyes and let out a bored yawn. "Yeah, I know. I'm not telling you anything you haven't already figured out, right? But the truth of the matter is, neither your mom nor your dad understand the full implications of just bringing you into the world. I don't want to give you the wrong idea, but any sane person would have terminated that pregnancy 10 minutes after finding out about it. However, as I already mentioned, 'sane' doesn't fit into your family profile." Alex settled back in the sofa cushions, put his feet on the coffee table next to the infant car seat, rested his good arm behind his head. "Yeah, it's gonna be a shit storm in the next day or so. My advice kid -- rest up now. It's gonna get fun in just a short while. Oh, that reminds me," he said casually, pulling out a cell phone and deftly typing out a text message. When he finished, he hit the send button with a flourish and leaned back in his relaxed position. "There. Sometimes the fate of the world rests in the most incapable hands. But then, I bet you knew that, too, didn't you, William." Three thousand miles away, John Doggett's cell phone buzzed in his pocket. Glancing over at Monica, he pulled it out and flipped it open. His heart stilled in his chest. This was the answers to his prayers. "Uh, Monica, I just remembered I told the Assistant Director I'd go out to Quantico, talk to the pathologist on the Fassl case before we finished that one up." Monica looked up from her computer screen, startled. "Oh. OK. But can't you just call him?" John was already up, pulling on his suit coat. "Nah, you know those guys. It's better if I head over there, talk to him face to face. Gauge if I'm using small enough words, you know," he grinned. "Better never let Dana hear you talk like that -- " Monica said and then bit her lip. "Sorry. You know what I mean." "Yeah, sure. Anyway, I'll be there most of the day. You mind finishing up the rest of that expense report?" "No, no problem," she said cheerfully. "Have fun at Quantico." "Always. I suspect today is going to be a lot of fun," he said with a nod and headed out the door. Monica waited a few moments, until she was sure she couldn't hear his footfalls in the hall or the stairs. Then she walked over to his desk and picked up the phone. "Kim, hi, it's Monica. I just had a family emergency. I'll need a couple of days. Yeah, I'll fill everything out as soon as I'm back. Please tell AD Skinner that it's my nephew. He'll understand. Thanks." She carefully put the receiver back on its cradle and then hurried out the door. On the way to the parking garage, she called Frohike. "He's on the move. Can you track him?" she asked anxiously. "Yeah, I think so. We're getting better at spotting his aliases now. Can you follow?" "That's what I'm trying to do," she relied. She was just able to get into her car and hunch down as Doggett's car entered the ramp out of the garage. "Gotta go. I'll be in touch." She waited and then made her way out into DC traffic. As she watched her partner's car turn to head toward the expressway to Dulles Airport, she sighed. What she wouldn't give for a cigarette.
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