ELS Chapter 1 By Dawson E. Rambo Disclaimer: Fox Mulder, Dana Scully, Walter Skinner and any other tangentially mentioned characters created by Chris Carter remain his copyrighted property, as well as the copyrighted property of 1013 productions and Fox Television, a unit of 20th Century Fox. No infringement is intended. Posting Date : October 18, 1997 Archive Entry : "ELS" Chapter 1/? Classification : SRA Spoilers : Paper Hearts Chapter Rating : PG Story Rating : NC-17 Missing Chapters: http://www.sonic.net/~drambo/els.htm Summary : Mulder ditches Scully yet again, and she puts her foot down regarding his treatment of her. The events that occur have serious implications on the future of the X-Files Division, and their partnership. Content Warnings: None Enjoy! ------ -1- Tucson Police Department Headquarters Tucson, Arizona Tuesday Evening Special Agent Dana Scully parked her rental in the spot marked "Visitors Only" and twisted the ignition key to the OFF position. The only outward manifestation of her anger was the fact that she had twisted the key so hard that it had almost snapped off in the ignition. That, and the fact that her lips were pressed so tightly together that they almost disappeared. She glanced at the mirror, running a hand through her hair more by habit than anything else. The man she was going to see wouldn't give half a good goddamn how she looked, and she didn't really care how she looked for him. Not tonight, anyway. Getting out and locking the car, Scully turned and walked into TPD headquarters, head down, counting how many steps she took to keep her mind off what was coming. Control, she reminded herself. Got to keep in control. Ascending the short staircase leading to the front door, Scully reached out for the right-hand door and pulled, hard. At some point since its installation, the pneumatic door-closer attached to that particular glass-and-metal construction had weakened, and the door almost shattered as it hit the side of the building. Scully stopped, her head coming up and then lowering again as she took a deep, slow breath, trying to calm herself. Ahead and slightly to the left was the TPD's front desk. Two uniform Sergeants stood behind it, hands on hips, glancing with annoyance down the hall towards the front door, wondering who had just slammed it into the building. Scully sighed again and began the long walk towards the desk. "Scully," she said, offering her ID. "FBI. You have my partner here...somewhere?" The two Sergeants exchanged a glance and then nodded. "Detective squadroom. Second floor." He hooked a thumb over his shoulder. "Elevator's over there." "Thank you," Scully said, clipping her words as she turned towards the elevator. The ride up did nothing to alleviate her anger and frustration; the elevator was filled with the soft, soothing tones of Muzak. The doors slid open to reveal a familiar sight: It seemed that the same interior decorator had the contract for every detective squadroom in the country. About twelve desks, paired off to face each other, littered the center of the room. Filing cabinets lined two walls, forming a large metal "L" shape. Wanted posters, departmental memos and cartoons clipped from the newspapers were taped, tacked and stapled to two large bulletin boards. There were about half a dozen detectives seated at various desks. Two were buried deeply in paperwork and studiously ignored her. Another pair worked the phones, sipping coffee from Styrofoam cups, taking copious notes. One was standing at a filing cabinet, idly flipping through folders with a practiced air of disinterest. The final detective was seated behind a typewriter, using two fingers to hunt-and-peck some kind of report out. She approached the typist, her ID in her hand. "Special Agent Dana-" she started. "Scully," the typist finished, ripping the pages out of the machine and turning to face her. "We've been hearing a lot about you." His eyes cast across Scully, making a perfunctory sweep from her head down to her toes and back again. It wasn't a lecherous glance, but Scully did feel slightly uncomfortable. A small part of her wondered what, exactly, he had been told about her. "I apologize for-" She stopped, at a loss for words. "What did he do this time, anyway?" "This time?" The detective arched an eyebrow, and Scully suddenly knew what Mulder felt like when she did it to him. "Is he under arrest?" Scully asked. The detective shook his head at the same time he offered his hand. "Tom Russ. No, Mr. Mulder is not under arrest. He's in custody though. My understanding is that...well, there are no charges to press, really. It was a public place. He was causing a disturbance, so we could charge him with that...but no one here wants to...cause problems with the Bureau." Scully nodded, his admission that once again Mulder had escaped the consequences of his actions only making her angrier. "Have a seat," Russ said, pointing to the uncomfortable- looking metal chair set next to his desk. Scully collapsed into it, tiredly crossing her legs and folding her hands in her lap. "Do you want to see him?" Russ asked. "No, not right now. I might..." she trailed off, glancing away from the detective. "Shoot him again?" Russ said, a light teasing tone in his voice. Scully's head snapped around, her eyes locking on his. "Excuse me?" "Mr. Mulder, as I said, has told us a great deal about his... enigmatic partner. I understand that you had occasion to shoot him some years back." Scully said nothing. "Well, that's almost understandable," Russ continued. "Mr. Mulder does have a rather considerable ability to...annoy." He finished his sentence with a small nod, as if he was pleased with the word he'd selected. "Yes," Scully agreed. "He does. And how did my partner manage to annoy the Tucson Police Department?" Russ smiled thinly. "I guess that means that you were unaware of Mr. Mulder's...reasons for being in Tucson?" "Please tell me it had nothing to do with Davis-Montham," Scully said, referring to the huge air force base located at the southeast edge of the city. "No, actually. Mr. Mulder managed to incur not only the wrath of the Tucson PD, but the Pima County Sheriff's office, the T'ohono O'odham Tribal Police Department, the Arizona Department of Public Safety...and the US Border Patrol." Scully tipped her head back, taking another deep breath and releasing it slowly. She counted mentally. "Five separate agencies," she said softly. "How did TPD end up with him in custody?" "At the scene, we all drew straws," Russ explained. Scully felt it, saw it, heard the joke coming and beat him to the punchline. "And you lost," she said wryly, smiling. Russ grunted a laugh in response, nodding. "Yeah, that's about it, Agent Scully. So...I assume you'd like all the lurid details about Mr. Mulder's escapades?" Scully shrugged, sighing again. "Sure. Fine. Whatever." She paused. "Lurid?" "Well, perhaps lurid is a strong word. How about 'interesting?'" "Sure." "I'll start at the beginning. At about nine this morning, a DPS trooper found an abandoned, or what appeared to be abandoned rental car on the side of the highway about five miles west of here, in an area that borders the T'ohono O'odham reservation. The plate was run, and it came back as rented to a Special Agent Fox William Mulder of the Federal Bureau of Investigation. Since the rental was with an official Bureau credit card, a BOLO was issued for Mr. Mulder immediately. The DPS suspected foul play." He grinned around the phrase that the local media loved to use. "Two hours later, the T'ohono O'odham tribal police requested the assistance of the Tucson Police Department and the Department of Public Safety in removing one aforementioned Mulder from the San Xavier Mission." "...which is?" Scully prompted. "A sixteenth century Spanish mission on T'ohono O'odham land. It's quite the historic monument. Your partner had locked himself in the vestry and was acting...well, I guess the word is irrational. He claimed that he was there to find his sister." Scully closed her eyes. Of course. A MulderDitch wasn't really a MulderDitch unless it involved either Samantha or the Consortium, preferably some evil mixture of the both of them. "Did he give you any details?" she asked carefully. Russ nodded. "Yes," he said softly, looking away. "He said that he had information that a spaceship would be dropping her off." Scully said nothing. There was nothing _to_ say. "Ok, so...what? He ordered everyone out of the mission? Why was he being...irrational?" Russ reached for a folder in his IN basket and handed it to her. "Here. Read this, and then we can go see your partner." =+=+=+=+=+=+=+= Special Agent Fox Mulder sat in the interrogation room, dressed in the bright-orange surgical scrubs that were issued to all prisoners. Paper slippers adorned his feet. His hands were cuffed in front of him. He'd been in the room for close to six hours, without a bathroom break or anything to eat or drink. He was starting to get a little annoyed at the Tucson Police Department. More than a little annoyed, he thought. Downright pissed off. As soon as he managed to get out of here, he was going to fire off a letter to the chief of police. Mulder was staring at the table when the door to the interrogation room opened. He looked up to see Scully entering the room, carrying a manila folder. "Hey!" he said smiling. Scully sat down in the chair opposite his, dismissively tossing the folder on the table. She regarded him silently. Mulder could see her jaw muscles working and knew that he was in very deep trouble. "I was going to call-" he started. "Save it." Her voice was cool, distant, remote. She cocked her head to the side, studying him. "What is it with you?" she asked. The question obviously being rhetorical, Mulder didn't answer. She lowered her gaze to the table, her eyes focusing somewhere in the middle distance. "Do you know," she started softly, "how many times I've covered your ass over...stunts like this?" Mulder felt something flare inside him. "I never asked-" "SHUT UP!" Scully said sharply. "Just listen." Mulder fell silent. "Too many times to count," Scully said, answering her own questions. "Too many calls in the middle of the night to bail your ass out of one crack or another. Too many private meetings with Skinner and the OPR gang, explaining that although you are unorthodox, you get results." She paused. "It wouldn't be so bad, Mulder...I wouldn't _mind_ Mulder, if I just some damn clue of what the _hell_ you were thinking before I get a call at home from Skinner asking me if I know where the _hell_ you are and what the _hell_ you are up to!" She paused, taking a moment to stand and walk around the perimeter of the room. She stopped in the corner, facing the wall, hands on her hips. "What was it this time, Mulder? A phone call in the middle of the night, some shadowy informant whispering sweet nothings in your ear? Or was it an encrypted email message that sent you on this wild goose chase? Huh?" She heard him take a breath and spun on him, her eyes flashing. "Just sit there and listen to me, Mulder. When I want an answer from you, you'll know." She turned to face the wall, so angry she couldn't even stand the sight of him. "Do you even care?" he asked softly. She turned and moved to the table with two swift strides. She was beside him in an instant, her mouth an inch from his ear. "How _dare_ you ask me that, you sanctimonious son of a bitch! I may not have earned your trust, Mulder...although God knows what the hell else I have to do to get it, but I have earned your respect! And no matter what you want to call this and all the other times you've dragged me out of DC to bail your ass out, no matter how you rationalize it in that little brain of yours...it's nothing if not completely and utterly disrespectful of me. I don't _have_ to go with you, Mulder, but you can at least tell me where the _hell_ you are and what the _hell_ you're thinking before you do it!" She paused, lowering her voice. "Partners are supposed to cover for each other, Mulder. That's what I do for you. That's what I've done for you." She paused again. "No more," she whispered directly into his ear. Straightening, she moved her head to his other ear, "Never again." She backed away, catching his gaze and spreading her arms. Her face said it all. She shook her head silently, and then added, "No." Moving to the free chair, she sat, drawing the folder to her with nimble fingers. Opening it, she began to read. "Tribal police. Tucson city cops. Pima County Sheriff's Office. Arizona Highway Patrol, also known as the Department of Public Safety. United States Border Patrol." She closed the folder with a flicking motion. "And now, the OPR. _They_ want to know exactly why you were using Bureau funds to chase...what? An alien spaceship?" "You're mocking me," he said softly. She snorted. "Well, Mulder...you invite it." "My sister-" he started, his voice sad and forlorn. Scully's palm slapped against the table, hard. "This is _not_ about your sister, Mulder. I know all the words to that song by heart, and frankly, I'm sick of it. This is about you behaving in a self-destructive manner, in a way that is going to lead to your downfall, to the end of your career and the closing of the X-Files. Is that what you want, Mulder? Because if it is, you're really doing a good job." "Scully-" he tried again. "Be quiet, Mulder. I have to decide what, if anything, I'm going to tell the OPR team tomorrow." She hesitated. "I have to decide what, if anything, I'm going to do about salvaging our partnership." His eyes flicked to hers. She saw the sudden fear there, the pain. Good, she thought. Maybe he's finally beginning to understand. She doubted it, but it was a comforting thought. She opened the folder again. "Waving your gun at civilians without good cause. Trespassing on federal property. Trespassing on reservation property. Disorderly conduct. Conduct unbecoming a federal agent." Closing the folder, she slid it away. Spreading her hands again, she looked at her partner. "What am I going to do with you?" "Support me," he said stubbornly. Scully sighed. "Unconditionally, right? Ask me no questions, I'll tell you no lies? Mulder...that day has long since come and gone. You and I both know the circumstances under which I came to be associated with the X-Files. At first, your suspicions were well-grounded. Over the last four years, I've done my best to put them to rest. We haven't always agreed. Most times we don't, at least about the conclusions. As you once said, these files are your life and I just work on them." She stood and walked to the corner again, crossing her arms and leaning against the juncture of the two walls. "That's not true anymore, Mulder, and you damn well know it. I am sick of you going off on your own to investigate yet another goddamn theory or sighting or whatever you want to call them and expecting me to be there to pick up the pieces." "I never asked-" "Mulder, you are still talking. Why are you still talking?" He fell silent again, his head dropping. "Yes," she said, "you never asked. But you expect it, Mulder. I checked, you know. I went back into your personnel file. Skinner let me look at it the last time this happened. You didn't pull this shit before I was assigned to work with you. You requested Bureau resources, and when they were refused, more often than not, you took personal time, sick time, owed time, and vacation time and went off on your own. You didn't put your career in jeopardy...or mine." She walked a few steps, her arms still crossed in front of her, turned and paced back. "So, the only answer that I can come up with is that you expect me to be there to pick up the pieces. You expect me to run interference for you with the brass. You expect me to take whatever morsels of information you deign to share with me and have that be enough. You expect me to nod and smile and take whatever you give me, no matter how little, how tiny it is...and do your dirty work. Making sure that you're available at a moment's notice to go tearing off onto one of your little adventures. Never mind that I might want to go with you, to protect you, to protect _us_, Mulder. I'm just the woman, right? The little, fragile woman." "That's not it!" Mulder insisted. Scully chose to ignore the fact that he'd spoken without her permission. "Then what is it, Mulder?" "Scully, can we get out of here? This place is driving me up the wall." She said nothing, choosing instead to move back to the table. "No," she finally said. "We can't 'get out of here,' Mulder. Not until I'm satisfied." "But-" "But nothing, Mulder. The TPD won't release you without my say-so, and I'm not giving it until this is _settled._" Scully punctuated her last three words by stabbing the table with a fingertip, emphasizing each syllable. "Settled according to who?" Mulder asked, his tone insolent. He's defensive, Scully thought. And when he gets this way, there's no talking to him. Softening her tone, Scully sat back. "What is our relationship, Mulder? Are we colleagues? Partners? Friends? More than friends? Are we lovers, Mulder?" Mulder's eyes widened. "You don't have to sleep together to be lovers, Mulder," Scully pointed out. He swallowed. "I asked you a question, Mulder. I want an answer." "I...uh..." Scully nodded. "I see. You can't even articulate what we are to each other. Well, Mulder...I'll tell you what I feel. I thought we were friends. Best friends, as a matter of fact. But I guess I was wrong." She looked away, letting the disgust flood into her voice. "Friends don't treat each other this way. Friends talk. Friends communicate. Friends share. So, that leaves partners, I guess. But not even that, really, right, Mulder? Not unless it suits you and your agenda. We're partners as long as I'm helping you, either on a case or covering your ass when you go off the reservation, pardon the pun. "But when push comes to shove, when the chips are down, I'm an obstacle to be avoided, nothing more." "Scully-" "Quiet, Mulder. You had your chance." "I thought we were more than friends," he said softly. "I thought you understood about...everything." Scully had no immediate answer for this. He was trotting out the puppy-dog look, the pout, the bottom-lip-thing. "Give it up, Mulder. That might have worked on your mother and teachers...it doesn't work on me anymore." "What do you want?" he asked. She snorted. "You still don't get this, do you?" She leaned forward, speaking slowly, carefully, her finger stabbing the table. "I am going to tell you what is going to happen from now on. Without exception, without excuse. I am giving you one more chance, Mulder. One last chance. If you don't agree to and abide by these terms, I will transfer back to Quantico or to a field office." She could see the disbelief in his eyes. He truly didn't believe that she would carry through on her threat. Scully grinned. She reached inside her jacket and returned with a single sheet of paper folded lengthwise. Opening it, she smoothed it flat and then turned it to face him, sliding it across the table. "Do you know what this is?" she asked, her voice tight, dangerous. "A transfer request," he said, his voice flat. "Yes, Mulder. Signed by Skinner. All I have to do is fill in the date and sign it. He gave this to me about a month ago. A get out of jail free card, he called it." "Why would he-" "Because he trusts me, Mulder, which is more than I can say for you." He glanced up at her. "I'm listening." She nodded. "One. You will no longer go off on your own without contacting me. Contacting me does not mean leaving a message on my machine, sending email or using smoke signals or carrier pigeons. You will speak to me personally. Under any circumstances that you think, you feel, you even DREAM might come back to bite me or you in the ass. Without exception. I do not care if Samantha Mulder herself calls you and tells you to meet her at the corner of Fifth and Main. You _will_ call me. You _will_ contact me. Agreed?" Mulder squirmed. "What if I can't get a hold of you?" Scully's cellphone hit the desk with a soft slap! "I'm never out of touch, Mulder. If my battery is dead, page me. If my pager is dead, then you leave a message on my machine and wait for me to call you back." "What if I lose my phone?" he asked. "Like on the train-" Scully sighed, fighting for control. He was already trying to weasel his way out of it. "Mulder...then I'd suggest you keep a supply of quarters for payphones handy. I will not accept any excuse, no matter what the circumstances. Unless you have a gun to your head, I expect to be notified. _I_ will then decide if this is a Bureau matter or a personal one and act accordingly. Agreed?" "I have a question," he said, and the tone of his voice told Scully that it was a serious question. "Go ahead." "What happens if you don't agree that it's a Bureau matter? Technically, I am your-" "Don't say it, Mulder. On paper, you are my boss. That is IT. We are equals in the eyes of Skinner, and he's the one that counts. His opinion matters, not yours." She took a deep breath. "But to answer your question, you can go on your own time. If it's important, time critical, I am sure that AD Skinner will approve time off without pay. Any other questions?" "Will you go with me?" he asked softly. His need was so obvious, so plainly written across his face. "It depends, Mulder. It depends on what evidence you have. That's all I can commit to at this time." He nodded. "What else?" "Two," Scully said, stabbing the table again. "If, for some reason, you are unable to contact me and it is literally a matter of life and death, you are to contact me at your first available opportunity. Without fail. Without exception. Agreed?" He nodded. "Agreed." "Three. If I decide to transfer for any reason, you will not stand in my way. As you said, technically you are my superior. You can block my request for up to sixty days for administrative review. You agree, here and now, you give me your word of honor as a man, as my friend and as an FBI agent that you will not do so. Agreed?" He nodded. "Agreed." "Four. You will stop treating me as a bastard step-sister and start treating me as your partner. That means full disclosure about everything you know, everything you think and every single thing that you suspect about every single case we investigate. I will _not_ be surprised again, Mulder. I will decide if the information you share with me is pertinent to the case. I will _not_ have you deciding for me." "Agreed. Can we leave now?" Scully leaned forward, her voice a whisper. "Mulder, this is your last chance. I am not toying with you anymore. Do _not_ call my bluff." His eyes found hers and she saw something there, something she had never seen before. True, honest regret. "I won't," he said softly. "Thank you," he added. Scully sat back, amazed at how easily he had defused her anger. "I had a date tonight, you know," she said quietly. Mulder's eyes widened. "Mark. Our first date. I had to call and cancel. I had to tell him that I had to fly to Tucson, Arizona to rescue my partner from the evil clutches of the local constabulary. He was quite understanding, Mulder. But I can't count on him being very understanding in the future. No one can expect the things you expect from me. "No one." She was satisfied to see that he had no answer for that. "Just because I want to have a personal life doesn't mean that I don't have the same dedication to your quest and the X-files that you do, Mulder." "I didn't-" "Yes, but you thought it." Again, he had no answer. "So are we agreed?" He nodded. She stood, taking the folder with her. "I'll be right back." +=+=+=+=+=+=+=+= Outside, Detective Russ was waiting. "Want us to kick him loose?" Scully shook her head. "Give him another hour or two. It'll do him some good." +=+=+=+=+=+=+=+= Arlington, Virginia Next Week Saturday night, and Scully's got a date, Mulder thought. He was on the couch, staring at the TV, absently flipping channels. This Mark fellow seemed nice enough. He'd stopped by the office to meet Scully for lunch earlier in the week. He'd offered his hand and Mulder had shook it, wondering what Scully saw in him. It wasn't that he was ugly or too tall or too short or anything; Mulder honestly wondered what attracted Dana Scully to a man. Mark Barry was an accountant. How exciting, Mulder thought. How totally...boring. They were doing the dinner and movie thing tonight. Seven Years in Tibet, at the dollar theater. Dinner at Antonio's. And then what? Mulder forced thoughts of Scully and Mark...necking... from his mind. He felt something twisting in his stomach, something unfamiliar, something...bad. It wasn't jealousy, he tried to convince himself. Being jealous of Mark meant that Mulder thought Mark didn't deserve dating Scully, didn't deserve to be in her company. Envy was more like it. Envy just meant...what? That he wished he was in Mark's place? No, that wasn't it. Not really. The phone rang. "Mulder." "Mr. Mulder." The voice was clipped, with a faint British accent. A voice he had never heard before. "Who is this?" "That is of no consequence. I'm sorry that your little excursion into the desert didn't work out." Mulder was instantly alert. "Who is this?" "Never you mind. But I do have something that you might wish to explore, Mr. Mulder. A small tidbit of information that you might enjoy having." "What?" "Althea Martin, Mr. Mulder. San Antonio, Texas. She's in the phone book. She has the answers you seek to the questions you ask." "Questions about what?" "Why...your sister, of course. Why else would I refer to Tucson, Mr. Mulder? Have a safe trip." And the voice was gone. Mulder bolted upright, tossing the phone on the couch beside him. San Antonio. Four, four and a half hours by plane. He had most of the American Airlines flight schedule memorized by now. Washington National had a flight in...about an hour. If I hurry, he thought, I can just make- Scully. The scene in the interrogation room came back to haunt him. That, and the aftermath. Scully had appeared before the OPR committee, explaining away his actions as neatly as a magician's trick. She'd tried hard, that was true, but the OPR had insisted on keeping the investigation open. As much as Mulder wanted the entire thing to just go away, there was still a better than average chance that there would be repercussions in the near future. But not for lack of trying on Scully's part, that much was for sure. He was already in the bedroom, shoveling through his drawers, grabbing clothes and underwear and socks as he thought. She insisted. Life or death. He walked back out to the living room, staring at the phone. He glanced at his watch. 9:30. He reached for it, intending to dial Scully's cell. She had asked for it, after all. Instead, his fingers dialed her home number. After four rings, the machine picked up. "Hi, sorry I missed your call. Please leave a message, and I'll call you back just as soon as I can." "Scully, it's Mulder. Please call me when you get this. I have something important to tell you. I'll be...home all night." He hung up, returned to the bedroom and finished packing. He put the bag on the table by the front door and returned to the couch, wearing his leather jacket. The moment she called, he would leave to pick her up. It would cost more to buy the ticket at the gate, but it would be worth it. +=+=+=+=+=+=+=+= Annapolis, Maryland 11:30pm Scully closed the door behind her with a sigh. Mark was a nice enough man, but he had the personality of lettuce. His entire world was his job. The entire dinner discussion had been about the approaching tax season, and how he had automated his office to speed filings. Exciting stuff, Scully thought. To him. She saw the flashing light on her machine. Glancing at the faceplate, she saw the digital "01." Pushing the RETRIEVE button, Scully moved to the kitchen to make some tea. "Scully, it's Mulder. Please call me when you get this. I have something important to tell you. I'll be...home all night." The call clicked off, and a digitized voice said, "nine...thirty...one....end ...of...messages." Scully glanced at her watch. It was late, he was most likely fighting for sleep. I'll call him in the morning, she decided. +=+=+=+=+=+=+=+= 0630am Alexandria, Virginia Mulder hadn't slept a wink. He'd been pacing the apartment for hours. He'd made and then canceled six separate pairs of reservations, all in the hope that Scully would call. Why hasn't she called? he thought. Surely...she didn't spend the night at his place? He thought about calling, about paging her. But the comments she'd made in Tucson haunted him. She _was_ entitled to a personal life. And if that personal life meant that Scully spent the night at her boyfriend's apartment...then so be it. He'd already called information in San Antonio and obtained Althea Martin's home address. A quick trip to the computer with his US MAP CD-ROM, and he had directions from the airport ready to go. All that was holding him back was Scully, and the fear that she would leave him. +=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+= 0714am Annapolis, Maryland Scully woke and stretched, groaning with the effort. Getting out of bed, she padded into the kitchen to make the coffee, and then went to the front door to grab her paper. Returning to the kitchen, she saw the blinking light on her machine; she'd forgotten to erase Mulder's message. He's probably up, she thought. In the kitchen, she dialed his number, staring at the fat, brown drops of coffee splattering into the pot. "Scully?" he answered, his voice frantic. "Mulder. What's wrong?" "I have a lead. San Antonio, Texas!" "A lead about what?" "SAMANTHA!" Scully felt her breath catch. "What kind of lead, Mulder?" "A man called me last night. He...he told me about a woman in San Antonio, a woman he says has answers to my questions about Sam. I checked her out as best I could. She lives there." "Mulder...I'm not trying to shoot you down, but how do you know this man is telling the truth?" "I won't until I talk to her, Scully." "Why do you believe him?" "Because he knew about Tucson." She nodded. "When did...last night? He called you last night?" "Yes." "Why didn't you call me?" she demanded. Silence. "I did!" he finally exploded. "I did exactly what you demanded, Scully! I left a message on your machine! I asked you to call me as soon as-" He stopped. "When did you get home?" he asked. Scully felt heat in her face. "About eleven-thirty," she said softly. "Why didn't you _call_ me?" he wailed. "Why didn't you call my cell? Or page me?" Silence again. "You were on a date," he said softly, gently. "I didn't want to...." he trailed off. She remembered the conversation in Tucson. About her personal life. Her demands. He had done exactly what he had promised. He'd called her, left a message, asking her to call him back as soon as she got it. And she had ignored it. "Mulder..." she said softly. "I'm so sorry. I had no idea." He said nothing for a long moment. "Can we go now, please?" "Of course," she replied. "This is on us, Mulder. I can't see the Bureau paying for-" "Whatever. I'll pick you up in half an hour." "Fine," she said softly. "I'm sorry," she added. But she was talking to an empty phone. He'd hung up. +=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+= San Antonio, Texas 1534 hours Mulder turned the corner and felt the blood drain from his face. It was a familiar scene, but totally unexpected in this context. Half a dozen police cars, parked at haphazard angles to the curb, doors open, bubble-lights on. An ambulance parked towards the end of the street, and next to it, a San Antonio PD van with the word "CRIME SCENE UNIT" stenciled along the door. Yellow tape stretched across the front of the house and vanished up the driveway. Scully felt her breathing quicken as she watched Mulder's face drop. "Is it the house?" she asked. He nodded, parking the car. They got out and made their way to the uniform officer guarding the entrance to the scene. "Mulder, FBI," he said, offering his ID. The copy looked at the both of them, curiosity written all over his face. "We got a tip," Mulder explained. The cop shrugged and lifted the tape. They walked towards the house slowly, their heels tapping on the front walk. Inside, they found Althea Martin. Dead, in a pool of blood, surrounded by two SAPD detectives and two forensic technicians. "Help you?" one of the detectives asked. Mulder identified himself. "Althea Martin?" he asked, using his chin to point to the victim. The cop nodded. "When?" Mulder asked. "Bob?" the detective asked one of the forensics techs. "Midnight...one, two am. Thereabouts." Mulder did the math. He could have made it in time. "Cause of death?" he asked. "Two shots to the back of the head, execution-style. And..." the SAPD Detective paused, and then glanced at Scully. "Her tongue was cut out." Scully nodded. "What's the FBI's interest in this?" he asked, openly curious. "I received a tip last night that she had information relating to an ongoing investigation." The SAPD Detective nodded, opening his notebook. "About what case, if I may ask?" "An abduction," Mulder said absently. "Kidnapping," Scully quickly corrected. "But I doubt that one has anything to do-" "Save it," the detective said. "You get a tip, and I get a body. That's pretty simple math even for a detective from a podunk department. Give. What case?" "My sister," Mulder said softly. "Twenty-five years ago." The cop glanced at Scully, who nodded, pleading with her eyes. "I see. Well, since the vic is only twenty-two, I doubt she had much information to share, Mr....Mulder, was it?" "Yeah. Mulder. Listen...do me a favor. Ask the ME to forward a blood and tissue sample to the Hoover building, attention Dr. Scully." "Can I ask why?" "Hunch. If I get a hit, I'll let you know." "Sure," the cop shrugged. "We can do that." Without another word, Mulder turned and left, Scully trailing behind him. They made their way back to the rental, got in and buckled up. "Mulder, I'm sorry," she said, reaching out for his arm. His muscles were stiff under her touch. "I know," he said coldly. "But...this. This is why, Scully. You wanted to know why I run off half-cocked." He pounded the steering wheel. "THIS IS WHY!" Scully said nothing. "The next time I leave you a message," Mulder said slowly, "I'd appreciate it if you'd return it as soon as you get it. You asked some things of me that I'm trying...I'm really trying to adhere to. And I know this is the first real test of these new rules. I'm not angry with you Scully...but..." "I'll answer it, I promise," Scully said quietly. "Fine," he said, reaching to start the car. Scully's hand on his arm stopped me. "Next time," she whispered. "Interrupt my date. Call my cell. Don't...don't worry about my...just call, ok? Just call." He nodded, saying nothing. "Mulder, I don't know what to..." She wanted to tell him that she was proud of him, but it was so patronizing, so condescending. "I appreciate the fact that you stuck to the agreement," she said gently. His tortured eyes found hers. "I can't lose you," he said through gritted teeth. "I can't." Scully smiled gently at him and patted his arm. "You won't." +=+=+=+=+=+=+=+= Two Days Later Wednesday had turned out to be a travel day for the both of them; returning from Tucson had been harder than either one had imagined. By the time the TPD had out-processed Mulder, it had been almost four in the morning. The first flight leaving Tucson in any direction even slightly towards Washington hadn't left until 7:30 that morning, which meant that it was already 10:30 in Washington. The two hour delay in Dallas/Fort Worth hadn't helped much, and by the time they finally landed in DC, it was well past quitting time. Which is why they both missed the voice mail from Assistant Director Skinner informing them that the Office of Professional Responsibility would be conducting a preliminary investigation starting bright and early Thursday morning into what Skinner was already calling "The Tucson Matter." Which is how Scully came to find three OPR investigators not only in her office first thing Thursday morning, but going through both hers and Mulder's desk and the filing cabinets. Scully was reaching for her pistol before she noticed that all three men were wearing the appropriate FBI credentials pinned to their jackets. "Special Agent Scully?" one of them asked, stepping towards her with two handfuls of files. "Yes?" "Special Agent Miller, OPR. I hate to be the bearer of bad tidings, Agent Scully, but as of right now you and Agent Mulder are on modified duty." "We're suspended?" Scully asked. That didn't take long, she thought. "No," Miller said delicately. "Not exactly, Agent Scully." He sighed, looked down at the files in his hands and moved to find some free horizontal space to set them on. "Let's just say that your duty assignment has been temporarily modified until such time as the OPR can make a determination as to whether or not the X-Files division should continue operating as it has been in the past." Scully crossed her arms, regarding the man coolly. "I wasn't aware that the OPR had taken over the day-to-day administration of the Bureau, Agent Miller." Miller shrugged, glance over his shoulder at the other two agents who were still busy going through the desks and filing cabinets, and moved towards Scully, taking her arm and guiding her out into the hall. "Please excuse that," he said softly, looking down where his hand had touched her elbow. "I meant nothing-" Scully nodded, making a come-on motion with her hand. Miller glanced over his shoulder into the office and then reached back to close the door. "Listen," he said softly. "You're right. What I said in there is bullshit. This job came down from the Seventh Floor." Miller glanced around again as if to make sure that they were truly alone. "My personal opinion? Someone very heavy is gunning for you and your partner. If I were you, I'd watch your back." Scully took the news with her usual cool aplomb. "So what are we supposed to do?" Miller shrugged. "My best advice is to get with your SAC and find out what he wants you to do." Scully frowned. "We don't have a SAC. We report to AD Skinner." Miller's eyebrows rose. "Well, I'd get in touch with him if I were you." "But we're not suspended," Scully said slowly. "No," Miller said. "We'd be asking for weapons and credentials if that were the case. Like I said, this smells to high heaven. OPR isn't supposed to be the Director's hit squad." Miller paused. "They didn't even tell us what we're looking for in here. Normally when we get orders to sweep an office, we have a list of things to look for. We got nothing. Just the order to go through the entire office." Scully nodded, accepting this. "If you don't mind, I'd like to wait for my partner to show up." Miller shrugged. "Fine by me. I'm supposed to ask this: Is there anything personal in there that you want to retrieve?" Scully shook her head. "No. A few pictures, a lipstick, nothing important." "Your partner?" "You'd have to ask him." "Ask me what?" Mulder said, coming around the corner. "Let me handle this," Scully said to Miller. The OPR agent nodded and vanished back inside, closing the door softly behind him. "Scully, what's going on?" Sighing, Scully rubbed the tip of her nose with the back of one hand. "It appears that your little stunt in Tucson has already had some rather serious ramifications, Mulder. That gentlemen is from the OPR. He and two of his friends are at this moment going through our office, inventorying everything." "The hell they are-" Mulder said, moving towards the office. Scully moved with him, effectively blocking his entrance. "Mulder, don't. They have a job to do, just as you and I do. Getting angry at them isn't going to help." Mulder stopped and looked down at his partner. "You're right." He paused. "Now what?" "We go see Skinner. Officially, we're on modified duty. We're not suspend, which is a good sign. But, that's open to... interpretation, I guess. I get the feeling that our status could change from modified duty to suspended pretty quickly, depending on what the outcome of the OPR investigation is." Mulder nodded, already turning to head back up the hallway towards the elevator. "C'mon...let's go see Skinner." Scully uncrossed her arms and followed her partner as she always had. And always would. +=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+= Office of Walter S. Skinner "Is he in?" Mulder asked, hooking a thumb towards Skinner's door. Abby nodded. "Yes, and two things: First, he's expecting you. And second, I don't know what you did, Mulder...but he's hot. Handle him with kid gloves." Mulder nodded, moved to the door and knocked twice. "Come!" Skinner called. The partners entered Skinner's office and took their customary position in front of his desk. "Have a seat," he growled, staring holes through Mulder. They sat. "Mulder...I guess it goes without saying that you've really done it this time." "Sir-" Mulder started. "Save it," Skinner said softly. "It's out of my hands now. It wouldn't have been so bad if you hadn't used a Bureau credit card for the rental car, and if you hadn't gotten arrested by the Tucson Police." "Sir, technically, Agent Mulder was not arrested. He was taken into custody, but I was assured by the Tucson PD that there would be no official record of the incident." Skinner sighed, used to Scully defending her partner by now. "Scully, I appreciate what you're saying, but the fact of the matter is that at this point, the reality of the situation is that perceptions count for more than paperwork. The perception on the Seventh Floor is that Agent Mulder, and by extension, you and the X-Files Division have grown out of control, that it's a rogue operation." Skinner paused. "I convinced them not to shut the division down," he said evenly. Both Mulder and Scully released a breath that neither had been aware they were holding. "However," Skinner said, "that does not mean that either of you will ever be assigned there again. That decision is still being made." "Sir-" Mulder said, shifting forward in his seat. "Agent Mulder, the best thing you can do at this point is keep your mouth shut and listen to me. By continuing to talk, you're only hurting yourself." Scully reached over and put a hand on Mulder's forearm, silently urging him to sit back. Mulder leaned back, his body still tense. "In the meantime, I have managed to keep both of you on active status. And, I might add, I also managed to make sure that you would remain partners. The first instinct of the brass was to split you up, send each of you to a separate Field Region and try to forget you ever existed. Cooler heads prevailed. We have another job for you, a temporary assignment that will suffice until a final decision can be made as to the future of the X-Files and your association with it." Scully nibbled her lip. "If I may ask, sir, what is that assignment?" "Investigative Support Unit." Scully's head swiveled to the side just in time to see Mulder's face collapse. "Sir," he said, the pleading down in his voice obvious and at the same time somehow pathetic. "Please..." "Agent Mulder," Skinner said forcefully. "This is the only assignment that I could find on such short notice. You will take this assignment. It is the only way that I can guarantee that you will _both_ still have a job in the near future. However, I am aware of certain...limitations on your part regarding any kind of serious work with ISU. I have not forgotten the Roche case. "Therefore, you will be carried on the books as a consultant to ISU. You will be working with them to streamline certain profiling processes. You will not be actively profiling. Agent Scully, you will be performing much the same function for the Forensics Science Team. No actual autopsies that you do not wish to perform yourself." Skinner hesitated. "This is the best I could do," he said softly. "I know it's not the best solution...but I hope you both understand that I did what I thought was in the best interest of your careers, and the X-Files division. This keeps you close to headquarters so that if a final determination is made in your favor, you have less to go through to rejoin the department." Mulder nodded, already standing. "Sir, if I may have a word with you in private?" Scully felt her eyes widen at Mulder's words. Carefully controlling her expression she stood, moving towards the door. "Agent Mulder, I'll see you outside." She closed the door softly behind her as Skinner turned to face his most complicated personnel management issue. "What is it, Mulder?" "Sir, I would like to formally request that Agent Scully be transferred from the X-Files division to the Teaching Unit at Quantico." Skinner collapsed into his chair, placing the V of his right thumb and forefinger against his chin. "Why now, Mulder? Haven't you done enough damage to her career? You have to do more?" "Sir!" Mulder protested. "That is what I'm trying to prevent! I don't want to damage her career any more than I already have!" Skinner leaned forward, his hands interlacing on the desk. "Mulder, it is no secret inside the Bureau that you and Agent Scully are now under active investigation by the OPR. To transfer Scully now would be to send a red flag to the Seventh Floor, and even higher, into the Justice Department and the Attorney General's office. The best thing either of you can do right now is to go Quantico, lay low, and let me handle this as an internal matter." He paused and pinned Mulder with his gaze. "Mulder...don't rock the boat. I know we haven't always seen eye to eye, that we haven't always agreed about methods and your constant deviation from policy and protocols. And God knows that if the X-Files division went away, my largest headache would go with it." He hesitated, softening his tone. "But the fact of the matter is that I do think that the X-Files division does important work, and by extension, that you do important work. I need you to understand that I'm going to be fighting for you and for Agent Scully." Skinner paused one last time. "I need you to trust me." Mulder didn't know what to say. "Trust," he finally said quietly, "is not something I'm accustomed to giving." He waited a beat. "But you've more than earned it. I'll go quietly to Quantico." He stood, walked towards the door and stopped. "Thanks...for keeping Scully and me together." Skinner nodded, hearing the naked need in Mulder's voice and not trusting his own to reply. ------------------------------ END CHAPTER 1