From: X-Files-Fanfic List
Date: 7 Jul 2003 00:07:58 -0000
Subject: "New Millennium:  Agent Michels Speaks" (1/1) by Vickie Moseley
Source: atxc

Note: This story has already been sent directly to
Ephemeral. Ten is posting this story to this list
on behalf of Vickie M.


Title:  New Millennium:  Agent Michels Speaks
Author:  Vickie Moseley
Email Address:  vickiemoseley1978@yahoo.com
Category:  V, MSR, AU
Rating:  G
Finished:  June 30, 2003
Spoilers:  Requiem, but by now, just the bare
skeleton of the show.
Note:  This is the continuation of the New
Millennium version of the events of the first half of
season 8.  There was a new agent introduced in
NM:  Homecoming.  Her name is Andrea Michels
and she was assigned to be Scully's partner while
Mulder was missing.  She's a minor character in that
story, but Ten and I have decided to give her a little
more playtime.  This is Andrea's first full-length
story.
Disclaimer:  Nope, we still don't own them.  Nope,
we still make no money.  Nope, we won't infringe
on that copyright.  Nuff said.
Second Note:  It's not necessary to read the first, oh,
bunch of stories (I've lost track), but it will make
this one a little more understandable.  You can find
them all archived on Ten's wonderful site.
http://bitter-moon.com/tenxffic/
Go to the drop down toolbar at the top of the page
(the one in bronze) and find 'Co-Authored/Series',
click and find 'New Millennium'.  They're all there.
And while you're there, check out Ten's other
stories.  Drop her a line
kristina@ocean.com.au
Dedicated to Ten.  This started out one little story
posted two and a half years ago!  Look how it's
grown!  Thanks, sweets!  Lord knows I couldn't
have gotten here without you <g>

New Millennium:  Agent Michels Speaks
by Vickie Moseley
vickiemoseley1978@yahoo.com

I am not an insensitive person.

OK, the one roommate I managed not to scare off in
the first three weeks of a semester, a psych major no
less, confided in me that I could be a bit distant at
times.  Well, maybe she said a lot distant.  Focused.
But in a good way, she assured me.  Single-minded.
And that's how I've viewed myself.  I'm single-
minded.  If other people are having personal
problems around me, I prefer they keep them to
themselves.  I see no reason to drag those very
personal problems into the workplace.

It's an advantage, really.  I don't participate in office
water cooler gossip.  I don't go out of my way to
attract attention to myself, especially from the
opposite sex.  I keep to myself, do my job and all is
generally right with the world.

So why am I now driving over the Key Bridge on
the way to my superior's tidy little suburban home
on a weekday?  Try as I might to keep the personal
out of the workplace, I had never intended on
ending up in the basement with the poster child,
strike that, poster children for stepping over the
professional/personal line.  I'm the junior partner in
the X files Division and that means I'm just part of a
big happy family.

It wouldn't be so bad if they were just sleeping
together.  Most agents who find their way into each
other's beds have the good grace to keep it quiet, not
flaunting it in front of the Bureau.  I like that
arrangement.  I frankly couldn't care less whom is
boffing whom.  And it's my understanding that
these two kept it quiet up until the time Agent
Mulder went missing.  Then, it was hard not to hear
the story of how she walked into the Hoover
building, sporting a wedding ring and changing her
name in personnel to 'Scully-Mulder'.  The
announcement came close to shutting down the
support staff for a week!

Not only were they sleeping together, they were
married.  Married, and much to my horror,
expecting their first child.  How I was graced with
this particular piece of very personal (since she
made it clear it was not for public consumption)
information about Agent Scully-Mulder's life, I will
never know.  I didn't mean for her to interpret my
questions as anything more than perfunctory
inquiries after her health when she came to work
five days in a row and immediately headed for the
bathroom and a barf break.  I really didn't want to
have her get all weepy and explain that it was
hormones and please not to tell anyone and
especially not to let Assistant Director Skinner
know that she wasn't able to keep food down in the
morning.

Somehow, I became Mother Confessor and I really
wasn't prepared for that.  It wasn't anywhere in my
job description, either.

I could almost handle all that.  I've had emotional
roommates before, though usually after one angst
session with me, they find other places to bunk.  I
could almost forget all about it and get back to
work.  But just as I was getting back to work, all
hell broke loose, literally.

I have no idea why Agent Mulder was missing.  I
know the reigning theory according to Agent
Scully-Mulder and it makes me doubt that the
woman was ever a serious scientist.  I'm just not
going to sit in that basement and believe that Agent
Mulder was abducted by aliens.  Aliens, as in little
green men, not the guys who dodge the border
patrol down in El Paso.  Hey, my ancestors came
here legally, I believe everyone else should, too.

I didn't speculate on why Agent Mulder was
missing.  It was enough of a mindbender that the
Bureau was willing to expend manpower and
resources to find him, at all costs.  I thought that
was a bit extreme, considering they had tried,
repeatedly, to toss him out on his keester.  But after
reading up on him, I discovered that Agent Mulder
was a brilliant profiler in his day and chances were
it was a sentimental thing happening.  His buddies
in VCS had all climbed the ladder higher than
Agent Mulder and now decided to find him when he
hared out and ran off on his . . . partner.  Who just
happened to keep a bottle of ginger ale at her side at
all times.

All well and good.  Then, suddenly, without any
real progress on our part that I could discern, he was
back.  Not exactly healthy.  Just back.  Found
without a stitch of clothing at a National Cemetery
with two-dozen other people, also without clothing
and in dire condition.  All of the few found alive
have died, save one.  Agent Mulder remains as the
only survivor.

My first thought was cult activity.  These people
had joined a cult, been abused and eventually either
escaped or were dumped when they were close to
death.  And, to be quite honest, it's the theory I still
hold.  Of course, Agent Scully-Mulder, and to my
immediate dismay, Assistant Director Skinner told
the inquiry panel that it was a 'classic case of alien
abduction'.

Agent Scully-Mulder had always been the voice of
reason in the X files Division.  I can see that in the
case reports.  When Agent Mulder wrote the report,
he often waxed poetic about the mysteries
uncovered, usually taking the same view as a
Weekly World News 'correspondent'.  When Agent
Scully-Mulder was at the keyboard, she included
scientific facts and findings to back herself up.  So
what happened?

Simple, really.  Agent Scully-Mulder went from
being a partner and scientist to being a woman in
love.  I've seen it happen all through my career.
Take a perfectly normal, professional woman, let
her participate in sex a couple of times with the
same man and BAMM, she's a moonsick teenager
sitting by her phone waiting for 'him' to call.
Disgusting, really.  I have no time for that, hope to
God I never do.  Oh, I'm not 'asexual'.  Far from it.
I'm simply 'asentimental'.  I do not form lasting
attachments.  It doesn't come to me naturally, and I
don't intend to start fostering the ability in the near
future.

Now, that isn't to say Agent Scully-Mulder isn't still
a brilliant woman.  I've seen her work.  In some
ways, it was a credit to her that she could hold
herself together in the face of all that was going on
around her.  I was frequently the victim of various
snide comments made at her expense.  I've heard
the words 'Mrs. Spooky' come out of more than one
sophomoric agent's mouth.  And upon Agent
Mulder's return, they have gotten even more inane.
Yet she attempted to keep her composure and did a
fairly good job of getting the work done.  But now
that he's home, all bets appear to be off.

I find myself on their street and search the houses
for the right address.  It's definitely suburbia here,
with clipped lawns and little azalea gardens tucked
under perfect picture windows that stare straight
across into other perfect picture windows.  Ah, a
bay window comes into view.  I glance at the
number on the slip of paper in my hand.  Yes, this is
the place.

I park the car and gather my briefcase containing
the files I want to have Agent Scully-Mulder
review.  There is a 302 in there, sent down from
Assistant Director Skinner with a very visible post-
it note attached:  "Only if you think it's necessary,
Scully" and initialed WSS.  So, I guess we only do
business on a whim basis now.  I sigh and get out of
the car, preparing to do battle.

As I knock, I hear voices.  I detect a shuffling sound
and suddenly the door is opened by a man.  I wasn't
expecting that.  He's tall, very thin and looks as if a
strong wind would topple him right onto the steps.
No, make that a light breeze.  But his smile is
instantaneous and he shifts his cane to his other
hand and reaches out to guide me into the house.

"Agent Michels.  We finally meet!  Hi, I'm Fox
Mulder."

I completely forget my upbringing and stare at the
man.  Somehow, I never really pictured him in my
mind.  I got just a few brief glimpses of him in the
hospital when I went by to have Agent Scully-
Mulder sign a form we needed.  He was always
asleep and could have been a store window
mannequin for all I could tell.  But here he is, alive,
breathing on his own and showing me the way to
his dining room, albeit at a rather awkward gait
considering the cane.

"Scully's upstairs.  Nature called.  Would you like a
cup of coffee?"

He's chatting away and goes into the kitchen.  I
stand in the dining room and watch as his trembling
hand reaches for the cupboard door and I can just
feel an accident and broken china in the making.  I
hurry to his side and rescue the cup, which looks
like it belongs to their everyday dinnerware.

"Thank you, I'll just help myself," I tell him.
"Would you like one?"

"Yeah, I'd love one.  But the Gestapo would be on
my ass in a New York minute," he gives me a grin.
"I'm on a decaf diet for the time being.  Nothing that
might get the ticker racing."  He seems to find this
statement intensely humorous and gives into the
urge to chuckle.

"I heard about your heart attack.  I'm very sorry.
How are you doing?  Better, I hope."  I'm a little
confused that he's taking it so lightly, but it's
probably a deflection.

"It wasn't a heart attack, actually," says a voice from
the doorway.  We both turn in unison to see Agent
Scully-Mulder, her fists on her hips and a scowl
planted on her face.  "And he'd be doing much
better if he'd learn the definition of the word
'resting'."

"I went to the door," he whines, actually whines.
"Someone had to let her in.  You were upstairs."
Then something really strange happens.  He looks
over at her with the most incredible expression,
somewhat lost, somehow provocative, definitely
attractive and she just seems to transform before my
eyes.  Gone is the serious Special Agent I've been
sharing a workplace with for several weeks.  In her
place is a woman who, well, not to wax poetic, but
she seems to radiate.  She positively glows!

After just a moment, so fast that I almost think I'm
imagining the whole thing, she gathers her
composure and glares at him, but with affection in
her eyes.  "Cut that out, Mulder!" she growls.  "I'll
deal with you, later.  Now, Michels and I have work
to do.  Go downstairs like a good recovering G-man
and watch that rugby channel you found."

"Aw, Mom!  I want to play with the big kids!" he
replies and makes a pretty fast exit past her in to the
dining room, pulling out a chair and sitting down,
hands folded and that same stupid grin on his face.

If I were her, I'd tear him limb from limb.  The man
is not only smug his whole demeanor is
insufferable.  While he's been playing 'sickbed',
she's been forced to stay home with him.  I start to
feel sympathy for her.  See what happens when you
let them get their hooks in you?  It strengthens my
resolve to remain unattached.

She's looking at him like he's a bug under a
microscope, and for a moment, my concern is that I
will be in the middle of a domestic dispute.  But
then she calmly walks over to the table and leans on
the back of one of the chairs.

"You'll take a nap when we're done?"  It's both
question and order.

"Yes, Mommy," he replies and gives her a Boy
Scout salute.

"You really are too much, Mulder," she says with a
shake of her head.  He just grins at her again and it's
over.  All is settled.  Apparently, he stays.

The majority of the material is forms and quarterly
reporting documents that have to be reviewed and
then signed.  When I became an FBI agent I
realized quickly that there is no greater bureaucracy
than an agency that call itself a 'bureau'.  But it all
has to be done and I suppress a smile as Agent
Scully-Mulder's pen flies over the documents while
Agent Mulder is craning his neck to see what's in
the reports.

"We're getting less equipment money again," he
mutters when she comes to the page detailing our
upcoming budget request.  The money won't be
disbursed until October 1 and it still has to go
through Congress, but the document gives the
divisions a heads up on what they're likely to
receive.

"Mulder, I told you this last year.  If you think
they're going to keep replacing cell phones and
flashlights like they're the local 'Home Depot',
you're nuts!" she tells him as she tosses the paper on
the 'signed' stack and reaches for the next one to be
signed.

A strange look comes over his face.  At first I think
he's taken offense, but then she looks up and into
his eyes and there is something going on between
them that makes me feel I just left the room.

"Are you telling me I'm crazy, Scully?" he asks, low
and throaty.

"You're crazy, Mulder," she replies in the same low
voice that is almost a purr.

I clear my throat and both sets of eyes snap in my
direction.  "Agent Scully-Mulder.  If you don't
mind?"  She has the grace to look properly
chastised.  He looks like the cat that just ate the
canary.

"I'm thirsty.  Who wants iced tea?" he announces
and she almost looks relieved that he's going to
busy himself elsewhere.

I sigh to myself.  If this is what they're like when
going over paperwork, I'm going to be subject to
near X rated displays on an hourly basis when we're
all at work together.  This is a perfect example of
why involved agents should work in separate
departments.  The personal just always seems to
find a way into the professional.  Eventually,
someone gets hurt.  In our line of work, a broken
heart can lead to someone with a bullet in the back
of their head due to carelessness.

He's off fixing us both iced tea and she gets back to
work.  She comes to the 302 and I cringe.  I was
hoping to talk to her before she read it.

"Um, Agent Scully-Mulder, that came down
yesterday.  As you can see, AD Skinner . . ."

She holds up a hand to cut me off.  "I can read the
post-it, Agent Michels."  Calmly she removes the
yellow paper obscuring her view and her eyes slide
down the page.

Just at the exact moment her eyes meet the page,
Agent Mulder returns awkwardly balancing three
tall glasses of iced tea.  He hands one to me before
he drops it and is about to set one down next to
Agent Scully-Mulder when he sees what she's
reading.

"Skinner sent down a 302?" he asks, directed at me,
no less.

I find myself chewing on my lip before I respond.
"He said it was only necessary if Agent Scully-
Mulder felt . . ."  Before I can finish, Agent Scully-
Mulder hands him the post-it note.  He reads the
note and then starts reading the form over her
shoulder.

"It's a hoax," he says, before she's even finished
reading through the pages.

"Mulder, the evidence.  Crop circles, two bodies,
both burned beyond recognition . . ."

"Precisely, Scully.  'Burned beyond recognition'.
Someone is covering up a murder.  A double
homicide from the looks of it.  Here, let me see
something."  He takes the papers from her and flips
to the second page.  He finds what he's looking for
and hands it back to her, pointing out a specific line.
"The two victims were lovers."

She licks her lips and frowns as she reads the line.  I
ache to grab the paper out of her hand and read
where he's directing her.  I read the file, too.  The
victims were co-captains of their football team, best
friends since childhood.  He seems to understand
my confusion before I even give it voice.

"One night stand gets jealous, Michels.  Unrequited
love can cause violence to erupt in the right
individual.   Plus, the image of the team is at stake
here.  If it were to get out the co-captains have been
doin' the nasty, it would ruin the morale of the team.
Individually, those might not be the ingredients of a
murder, but together it's pretty hot stuff.  Besides,
what better way to cover two murders than to
deflect the blame to the unknowable?"  He mocks
me with another grin and points his finger toward
the ceiling.

"Is there anything we should tell the local PD when
we send it back to them?" she asks, setting down the
file.

"Tell them to check the whereabouts of the cheer
squad when the boys went missing," he shoots back
and she looks over at him with one eye brow raised
as if in question.  He shakes his head.  "Not like
Comity, Scully.  There was no planetary alignment
in the past few weeks that I'm aware of.  Are you
implying that a girl who can lift another girl over
her shoulders to do one of those 'statue of liberty'
poses isn't capable of murder?  I never saw you as
that sexist, G-woman."

She smirks at him.  "Agent Michels, I'll call AD
Skinner directly on this one," she tells me and that
seems to satisfy him.  He pulls out his chair and
settles in with his iced tea.

"But, Agent Scully-Mulder," I start, still confused.

"And exactly how did you know the name of the
pose, Mulder?" Agent Scully-Mulder ignores me
completely and turns toward him, both eyebrows
raised.

He grins.  "Don't get all huffy, Scully.  I got over
Peggy Sullivan years ago.  But I'll tell ya, she could
toss me in the air and catch me . . . any time!"

"You dated a cheerleader?" she asks.  He nods, still
grinning.  "In high school?" and again he nods.

"And the best part, Scully," he says, dropping his
voice to almost a whisper.  "She was a red head."

"Well, Agent Michels, I think that's all we can do
for today," Agent Scully-Mulder says, pushing her
chair back and rising.  Agent Mulder does the same,
foregoing his cane to snake his arm around his
wife's waist.

I understand that I've been dismissed, but I don't
budge.  I want some kind of answer here.

"But the crop circles," I say, gathering the papers
and putting them back in my briefcase.

"A ruse, Michels," Agent Mulder says and squeezes
Agent Scully-Mulder's waist.  "Didn't you teach this
kid anything while I was gone, Scully?"

"But how was it perpetrated?"  I can't leave this
alone.  I was under the impression when Agent
Mulder heard of anything strange like this, he'd be
on the first flight out to investigate it, up close and
personal.

"Cheerleading captain, the jilted one, convinces the
other squad members that they can pull a real fast
one on the good townsfolk.  The girls sneak out at
night and create a nice pattern in old farmer
Quigley's wheat field.  Next morning, two boys are
missing, they turn up next to the circle.  Townsfolk
assume aliens, cheer squad think they 'called' the
aliens with their little prank and clam up without
telling anyone for fear of taking the heat and Cheer
Captain gets her revenge _and_ saves the image of
the football team.  All nice and neat."

I can feel my mouth drop open and I force it closed.
"You got all that from a 302?"

"He's pulled as much from a matchbook cover,"
Agent Scully-Mulder mutters under her breath.
"Thank you for bringing all this by, Agent Michels.
I'm hoping I can be in the office on Monday."  She
flashes Mulder a look and he just shrugs in
response.  The silent conversation is broken when
he abruptly yawns.

"Well, that's my cue," I say, heading for the door.
Agent Scully-Mulder moves to escort me, but I
wave her off.  "I can find my way out.  Thank you,
Agent Scully-Mulder."

"Call if Skinner sends down any more bogus 302's,"
Agent Mulder calls out as I reach the door.

"I'll talk to you tomorrow, Agent Michels.  Thanks
again," Agent Scully-Mulder calls out.

I close the door tightly behind me.  I can barely hear
the footsteps on the stairway.  Something tells me
Agent Mulder will not be lonely during his nap.

What the hell have I gotten myself into?

the end