"Snapshots 12:Departures" By Dawson E. Rambo Disclaimer: Fox Mulder, Dana Scully, and any other tangentially mentioned characters were created by Chris Carter, and remain the copyrighted property of him, TenThirteen Productions, and Fox Television, a unit of 20th Century Fox, Inc. All characters are used without permission, and no infringement is intended. Classification : MSR,V,X Rating : PG13 Summary : This is the continuation of my story "Snapshots." In this part, Dana and Fox travel to San Diego at Skinner's behest so Scully can attend a forensics conference and Mulder can get a much needed break from the X-Files, as well as slowly begin to acclimate to his new relationship with Scully. While vacationing, Mulder discovers some disturbing evidence regarding a series of deaths that had been ruled accidental. Note: For all of you who have been sending me mail and feedback: Thank you so much. Your input has contributed a great deal to the success and the continued prolific output of this author. I'm sure that "Snapshot" would have stopped long ago if were not for the almost continuous stream of mail that I've gotten urging me to continue writing. I love writing this series...I'm having so much fun, it should be illegal. However, some of the more eagle-eyed of you might have noticed that there's a new letter up there on the `classification' line. With this chapter, we will be adding an X-file into the storyline. Fear not, relationshippers, I plan to fully integrate the new X-file case into the new dynamics of Mulder and Scully's relationship as I have defined it in the previous 11 chapters. Since this is now becoming an X-file, you will start to see chapter headings like "Alexandria, Virginia. Tuesday morning," and so forth, just like on the show. The chief reason for this is that the nature of the X-file will require you to know where things are going on as I describe them, and due to the way I (ahem) write, I need to keep certain facts obtuse, while making it clear that some very powerful people are involved in Our Favorite Duo's latest case. Also, if some of the things that I reveal about the characters in this story, Mulder and Scully specifically, seem to be "off the reservation" as far as X-Files canon goes, please read the endnotes. Thanks! :) Anyway...on with the story. ----------------------------------------------------------- Dana Scully's Apartment Thursday morning 0615 hours Dana Katherine Scully was a Special Agent of the Federal Bureau of Investigation, a member of an elite law-enforcement organization charged by legislation enacted by Congress, under the auspices of the Department of Justice, directed by the Attorney General of the United States of America, having completed the rigorous, months-long Special Agents training at the FBI Academy in Quantico, Virginia. She had taken courses at the National Law Enforcement College, and FLETC (Federal Law Enforcement Training Center,) in Georgia. She had certificates buried in a drawer that stated that she was qualified to be a member of an FBI SWAT Team, and had on more than one occasion donned ballistic body armor, loaded up a Heckler and Koch MP5-PDW 9mm machine pistol, charged the magazines, and kicked her share of doors. Further, she was a fully qualified medical doctor, with degrees in Physics and Medicine, with a residency in Forensic Pathology, with a specialization in Criminal Pathology. She was board certified in Internal Medicine, Pathology, and Forensic Pathology. She was a member in good standing of several professional organizations, including some each from both the law enforcement arena and medicine. She had been awarded the FBI's Meritorious Service award three times, and had seven letters of commendation from various directors of the FBI. She even had one letter in her file from the Chief Inspector General of New Scotland Yard, and another one from the Chief Detective Superintendent of Interpol. She was also standing in front of the full length mirror in her bedroom, turning this way and that, studying the way she looked in her bathing suit. Well, she thought, I won't win any beauty contests...but I shouldn't be ashamed of the way I look in this thing. I'm not 19 anymore. Sighing, Dana decided that it would have to do, only because Mulder was scheduled to pick her up in less than two hours, and there wasn't a mall within a thousand miles that was open at this hour. Dana took the suit off, changing into sweats to finish her packing. Part of her seethed at the injustice in the world that required all women to look good in a bathing suit, whereas men could just wear a pair of cut-off jeans and look fine. Why, Mulder wasn't even going to be worried about his bathing- Gasping, Dana stood upright. She'd heard the rumors about the famed Red Speedo. The secretarial pool (Administrative Assistant Human Resources Pool, she reminded herself,) had been agog for months over that rumor. Dana sat on the bed and let her mind drift for a minute, trying to imagine what Mulder was going to look like splayed out on a lounge chair wearing nothing but his sunglasses and a tight, wet, red speedo. Oh, my. Fox Mulder's Apartment Thursday Morning 0620 hours Fox William Mulder was also a Special Agent of the FBI, having completed the same Special Agent training that Dana Scully had. In addition, he was an Oxford-trained psychologist, and had the doctorate to prove it. He was a certified National Violent Criminal Profiler, a permanent status that was issued by the VICAP section of the BSU to only a few profilers who were exquisitely qualified in the art and magic of tracking violent serial criminals. He was trained in anti-terrorism techniques, and had also attended the NLEC and FLETC courses. He had attended the National Law Academy, and graduated with honors. He had recently qualified as an Expert Marksman with his Bureau-issue pistol, and had also qualified on the H&K MP5-PDW and AN/PVS-7B and PAC-4C night vision assault system. He had two FBI Meritorious Service awards, four letters of commendation, and two letters matching Scully's from the two foreign investigative agencies. And he was standing in front of mirror, checking himself out in the speedo. He turned sideways and patted his stomach, noticing that an extra burrito might have crawled in there sometime over the past few weeks. The speedo, he decided, was out. He dove back into the bottom drawer, where he kept all the clothes that he kept intending to discard, but they never seemed to find their way to goodwill. He found the Oxford sweatshirt there, and seeing that it had shrunk due to repeated washings, decided on the spot to give it to Scully. It would fit her perfectly. He found what he was looking for, a pair of trunks that he had almost thrown away a dozen times. Silently thanking the God of Guyness that didn't allow men to throw anything away, ever, he donned those and repeated the Mirror Check. Better, he thought. They were loud and obnoxious, but they fit, and that was all that was important. Fox undressed quickly, and then changed into a pair of jeans and a comfortable T-shirt. It was going to be a six and a half-hour flight to San Diego, with a stop in, of all places, Tucson. The layover was only about ten minutes, but Mulder preferred non-stops. He finished packing his clothes and stood, wondering what else to bring. A good book, his portable CD player, his electronic counter- surveillance gear, his pistol and backup, a microcasette recorder, his laptop, some case files- No. The case files would stay. This was a vacation, after all. The electronic countersurvail gear was necessary, as was his pistol and laptop. Just because he was on vacation didn't mean They were. Smiling, Fox realized he was finished packing. He checked his watch. Quarter to seven. He still had about an hour and a half before he had to grab Scully and dash to the airport. Dana Scully's Apartment Thursday Morning 0800 hours Mulder parked his car and got out, locking it behind him. It was normally a safe neighborhood, but on the way over he'd realized that he'd packed practically everything he owned, and he couldn't afford to lose any of it. Whistling as he walked, Mulder made his way inside Scully's building, taking the stairs two at a time. This was going to be great, he thought. He let himself into Scully's apartment and groaned when he saw the pile of bags sitting in front of her couch. "Scullllly," he called out. "I don't believe it! Didn't you pack the kitchen table, too?" "I don't want to hear it, Mulder," Scully called from the bedroom. "You get to sit around by the pool all day. I have a conference to attend. I need business clothes, and casual clothes." "Yeah, yeah," Mulder said, mostly to himself. He grabbed the first of the six bags and turned to walk back downstairs. "Hey!" Scully called. "Don't I get a kiss?" Well, a kiss from Scully had to beat carrying bags, he thought, so Mulder dropped them and made his way into the bedroom, only to find Scully dressed in nothing but a bra and panties, standing in front of her closet with one hand on her hip, studying the contents. "Jesus, Scully! You could have warned me," he said, placing a hand over his heart. "What?" she asked, turning. She looked down at herself and then back at Mulder, grinning. "Why, Fox Mulder...are you embarrassed to be seeing your lover in her underwear?" "No...just surprised." "Does it make you uncomfortable?" she asked, reaching for her robe. "God, no," he said, waving her hand away. "It just...caught me off guard." Scully walked over to him, slinking her arms around his neck and leaning up on her toes to kiss his nose. "This vacation is just starting, Mulder. I plan to catch you off guard often." "Lord, I hope I survive," he moaned, returning her kiss. "Just about ready?" "No," she frowned, dropping her arms. "I can't decide what to wear on the plane." "How about shorts, a T-shirt, sneakers, and a big floppy hat?" "Everything but the hat sounds great. I'll get dressed. Go load the bags." "Yes, sir," he said, proffering a mock salute. He turned and left, retrieved the bags he'd dropped and made his way downstairs. Four trips later, he was finished, and the trunk of the Taurus was bulging with Scully's luggage. He returned to find her watering the plants and changing the message on her machine. Scully turned to him, a wide, warm smile on her face. "I'm finally ready, Mulder." A sudden thought occurred to him. "Do you have your gun, Scully?" "No...I didn't think-" "Firstly," he pointed out, "regulations. Skinner would blow his top if you get taken hostage at your convention and I have to blow my way in there only to find out that the only weapon you have is that killer smile of yours." "You think my smile is a killer?" she teased, flashing him one. She knew what it did to him, and that was exactly why she rationed them so carefully. Didn't want the poor boy to overdose, do we, Dana? "Secondly," he continued, "you know us...something might happen. It's best to be prepared. Get the Walther, OK? A little .380 will fit in your purse." "Where's yours?" "In my carryon." "Oh, all right. But it's always such a hassle clearing security with that thing." Dulles International Airport America West Terminal 0939 hours Mulder and Scully approached the metal detector, having already checked most of their luggage. They each carried their laptops and another bag full of books and things to do on the trip. Mulder had even managed to find an edition of Travel Scrabble, and was looking forward to matching wits with Scully on the long flight. "Here we go," Scully whispered to him. She approached a security guard, her ID case already out. "Hi," she said softly, "I'm Special Agent Dana Scully, and-" "I'm Special Agent Fox Mulder," Mulder said behind her, opening his credentials for inspection at the same time. "We're going to San Diego, and we're both armed." The guard looked at the casually dressed agents, back to their ID, and back at them again. "Vacation?" he asked. "I thought the FBI regs said you guys had to travel in suits and ties on business." "Business for me," Scully said. "Vacation for me," Mulder added. The guard thought about it and finally nodded. "I'll have to call the airline and tell them you're on the flight." Scully and Mulder both nodded; it was routine by now. FAA regulations were very specific. Any guns on any flight had to be made known to the airline. The guard took down their information and then discreetly waved them around the metal detector so as not to alert the other passengers. "That wasn't so bad," Scully said. "For once." They made their way to the ticket count and reconfirmed their seat assignments, and then sat down to wait for the boarding call. Scully popped open her laptop and continued working on the seemingly never- ending letter to her brother Charles. Mulder opened a gruesome murder mystery and quickly lost himself inside it. "Don't you get enough of that stuff at work?" Scully asked. "Nah," he answered. "I just like seeing what they screw up. Technically, I mean. I love reading stories where the main character uses a safety on a revolver." "Whatever floats your boat, Mulder," Scully whispered, returning her attention to the letter. About twenty minutes later, they were boarded and seated. Scully had insisted on the window seat, and Mulder sat next to her. Across the isle were three empty seats, and Mulder prayed they would remain that way. He hated making inane conversation with strangers on airplanes. Luckily, the seats remained empty. The flight attendants sealed the plane, and the pilot quickly pushed back and proceeded to taxi for takeoff. Sitting on the threshold to the active runway, Scully turned to Mulder and squeezed his hand. "I feel like were starting a huge adventure...together," she smiled. "Me, too," he said, leaning down to kiss her softly. San Diego International Airport 1631 hours The jet touched down with a squeal of tires, jerking Mulder awake. Sleepily, he turned to find Scully similarly sacked out, and reached over to gently shake her awake. Her eyes opened quickly. "We're here?" He just nodded, too tired from the flight to do much of anything else. They landed, taxied and deplaned rather quickly, Mulder wondering why people didn't debus or decar. Baggage was slow in coming, and the pair leaned against other in baggage claim, not saying much of anything, just enjoying being together, away from Washington, and not being on a case. Once they stepped outside of the terminal and smelled the ocean air of San Diego, all thoughts of tiredness were forgotten. The sun was just beginning its' decent into the ocean, and the view was spectacular. "God, if there is a heaven," Mulder said. "...this must be it," Scully finished. "C'mon, slowpoke...we have to get a rental car and check in at the hotel." The Pointe Hotel Room 1013 San Diego Thursday Afternoon 1721 hours "If there's nothing else, then," the bellboy said, looking expectantly at Mulder. Startled, Mulder realized the man was expecting a tip. It had been such a long time since either of them had stayed at a hotel who's idea of room service wasn't a vending machine that he'd almost forgotten his manners. He palmed a five dollar bill and shook the man's hand, passing it like he'd seen it done in the movies. After the door had shut, Scully smirked, "Smooth move, Cary Grant. I bet he only sees that about a thousand times a day." "But never the way I just did it, I bet." "I'm sure." Mulder patted his stomach. "I'm hungry. Let's change, and go get some dinner." "I have a better idea," Scully said. "I feel grimy from the plane ride. Let's shower, then change, then go get dinner." As it turned out, together, naked in the shower, they came up with a third option. The Pointe Hotel Dining Room Thursday Evening 1833 hours "Mmmmm," Scully said, wiping her face with the napkin. "That was delicious. If the Bureau let us stay at these hotels instead of the roach-infested rat-traps they force us to use, I'm sure we'd have a higher solve rate." "Are you kidding? We'd never want to get back to Washington for the dreaded paperwork. The entire system of Federal justice would grind to a halt in the matter of a week!" "You're right, Mulder," Scully agreed, tossing the napkin down on the table. She glanced across the table at her partner and felt the beginnings of a smile teasing her lips. The memory of their lovemaking in the shower was still fresh in her mind, and she had a startlingly vivid image of Mulder, his head thrown back in passion, his hands clutching her hips as he- "What are you thinking, Scully?" Mulder asked. "You have the strangest expression on your face." "Nothing," she said quickly, looking around for something to distract him. "I was thinking about how nice he sounds," she said, indicating the piano player situated in the far corner of the restaurant. He was tinkling the keys skillfully, filling the restaurant with comfortable, friendly ambiance. He finished his song and stood, announcing quietly that he would be back in ten minutes. "You think he plays well?" Mulder asked, his eyebrows arched. Scully turned back to face him. "Can you play better?" "As a matter of fact," Mulder said, standing. "I can." He started to walk across the restaurant towards the piano, and shocked, Scully stared after him for a long moment before standing to go after him. His long legs and longer strides got him there first, and Mulder sat down, stopping only to loudly pop his knuckles. "Lemme think," he said, scratching his jaw. "Oh yes..." His fingers lowered to the keyboard, Scully bit her lip in anticipation, and then... Chopsticks. Scully laughed, covering her mouth with a hand. "Mulder!" she gasped. "These people are paying good money to-" He made a shhhhh! gesture with a finger to his lips, and then, while staring directly, deeply into Scully's eyes, began playing for real. It sounded familiar, and after a minute Scully realized it was a German love song. He went up and down the keyboard, his fingers flourishing on the piano, his eyes never leaving Scully's. He switched to a light jazz ditty, moving around the keyboard with ease, his body starting to move with the music, and finished with a medley of popular tunes. His last song was "Hotel California," an abbreviated version. He finished with his hands high in the air, a small smirk playing at the corner of his mouth. Dana raised her hands to clap, but the patrons of the restaurant beat her to it. The applause was genuine, not just polite, and Dana joined in, wondering when he had learned to the play the piano, and why she had never known about it before. Because you've never been on vacation with the man, Dana. Because this is the best part of any relationship...the discoveries. Mulder stood and made a mock bow to the restaurant, and then took Scully's hand and led her back to the table. "Where did...when did...why haven't I...?" Scully asked. "Home. As a child. Because it never came up, and I really don't play anymore." "Why not? You're wonderful!" Mulder shifted in his chair, suddenly uncomfortable. "Well..." "Mulder," she said quickly. "You don't have to tell me if you don't want to." Please, she thought. Please tell me. I want to know. I want to know everything there is to know about you, Fox. I want to know all your secrets, all things that make you so uniquely, deliciously you. "No, it's OK." He smiled. "Part of the reason we're here is our beloved Assistant Director Skinner wants us to get to know each other better, to get over the `breaking-in' period of this relationship." "Do you think we will?" Scully asked. "What? Get used to each other? Maybe the way Skinner thinks, sure. But not the way I think you mean, Scully." He paused, leaned across the table, and whispered, "Every day with you is an exciting, incredible new adventure, Scully. I don't think we'll ever lose that." Dana was unprepared for the feeling of love for Mulder that flowed over her at his words. It was exactly what she had wanted to hear, and it was made that much more special by the fact that she knew he meant it. "But, back to the piano. It was something that Sam and I liked to do together. She would get after me to practice, and I would play for her and her friends. After she...left, I didn't really feel like playing anymore." But you played for me, Scully thought. She reached across and squeezed his hand, suddenly wanting to be alone with him. Very alone. "Let's go, Mulder," she said, the invitation and meaning in her eyes unmistakable. His eyes had a faraway look, and Scully turned to see he was looking at the television over the bar. The news was on, and there was a graphic beneath the announcer that said "Breaking Story." "Hang on a minute, Scully," Mulder said, standing. "I want to check this out." He walked quickly to the bar, positioning himself under the TV. After a moment, he felt Scully beside him, her arm slipping around his waist. "I signed the check," she whispered. "Shhhh," he said. "Repeating, convicted murderer and suspected serial rapist John Lee Wayne Stainback has been found dead in his southside apartment. An explosion ripped through the apartment only minutes ago, and police are still at the scene. They refuse to rule out foul play at the moment, and this is being investigated as a suspicious death." "No shit," Dana said, laughing. She noticed Mulder hadn't joined her, and turned to face him. "Mulder...what is it?" "I remember him," Mulder said, wagging a finger at the TV. "From VICAP. When he went down for the murder, he let something slip in an interrogation, and the SDPD asked for a VICAP profile to see if he could fit the Southside Stalker case. About six years ago...the murder conviction was overturned on a technicality, and...then the rape trial was similarly dismissed because of another legal technicality...something about the evidence being tampered with. I don't remember the details, but-" "You don't remember something? I find that incredibly hard to believe." "Well, I was out of the case at that point. I did the profile and forgot about it...that was when I started to push the FBI to open up the X-Files. I skimmed over it in the paper. But that's not the interesting part." "What's the interesting part, Mulder," Scully asked, beginning to worry. He had that special, unique MulderLook on his face, like a hound on the scent. Oh God, she thought...not now. Please not now. We're on vacation! "I can't put it all together until I get a computer search going. But I have a hunch I want to check out." Scully turned him to face her completely. "Not tonight. Do you hear me? Not tonight. Tomorrow, while I'm at the conference, if you want to play hide and seek on the Internet, that's fine. But not tonight. Do I make myself clear?" "Clear, Scully," he said, kissing her. "We're on vacation!" The Pointe Hotel Room 1013 1903 hours Mulder sat on the bed, propped up against the headboard, eyeing his laptop hungrily. It sat on the dresser, mocking him. Scully was in the bathroom, brushing her teeth and doing whatever else she did to get ready for bed. You're going to have to find out what she does before bed eventually, pal. That's the price to pay for being with her. You get to see her all the time, first thing in the morning, with bed-head, eyes red and puffy from sleep, her mouth reeking of bad breath, the whole nine yards. Somehow, the idea of waking up next to Scully every morning for the next nine days, perhaps the rest of his life made Mulder smile. What the hell, he thought. I can do part of it tonight. He got out of bed and unlimbered the laptop, quickly plugging it into a datajack that the hotel had thoughtfully provided. No more unplugging the room phone for data access. Logging into the local FBI Point of Presence node, he quickly connected with the machine that was at that moment sleeping in the basement office of the X-files. He called up an automated search program he called KILLBOT, and quickly entered the parameters he wanted. He started it running, and then quickly switched to his email program when he heard Scully emerging from the bathroom. "Hey!" she said. "I thought we agreed--" "Just doing some email," he said, which was true...to a point. "I have to tell Frohicke that he can come pick up his...package." Dana smiled, remembering what that meant. No more videos. No more magazines. She had his full and undivided attention as far as females went. The thought made her feel warm and comfortable. "Oh. That's OK, then." Mulder instructed the email program to `tell' the KILLBOT program to store the results as an email message, and signed off, closing the laptop with an audible snap! He reached over and gently put the computer on the floor, where it would remain until the next morning. "Little early to be turning in," he commented. Scully had emerged from the bathroom wearing nothing but a huge HRT T-shirt, and it looked wonderful on her. Mulder was wearing a pair of sweatpants he had cut the legs off for basketball years ago. They were soft and comfortable. "Remember, Mulder...we're still on DC time. It's almost ten o'clock there." "Well, I'm gonna read for a while," he said, reaching for his book. "I'm not sleepy." Scully laid down on the bed, propping some pillows up for herself. "Who said anything about sleeping?" she asked. Mulder, who had already opened the book, stole a casual glance over at her. "Geez, you're insatiable!" he mockingly complained. "Who said anything about making love? `Friends' is almost on." Despite her desire to watch television, Mulder's nearness and his incessant touching soon forced Dana to admit that there were better things to do than watch television. The Pointe Hotel Room 1013 Friday Morning 0630 hours Scully was in the bathroom, having quietly exited the bed only minutes ago to take her shower. She hadn't wanted to wake Mulder, and so she had set her watch alarm to beep her awake softly, hoping the gentle noise would allow him to sleep a while longer. Mulder heard the shower start, cracked an eye, and reached down for his laptop. He cracked it open and quickly signed back onto the San Diego FBI POP. He connected to the machine in his office, nicknamed Trixie for some forgotten reason, and called up the results of his search. Holy shit. It was true. His hunch had paid off. He started reading the data, his hair still sleep-tousled, his eyes puffy. There was no mistaking it. Dana was going to shit- "Hey!" Mulder looked up, a guilty expression crossing his face. "What are you doing?" "I...uh...." He decided to come clean. "Last night, before I checked my email, I ran a search program on a hunch." Dana felt the flash of annoyance, and resisted the urge to get angry. It had taken him all of five minutes, she guessed, to start the search and check his email. She'd asked him not to do any work last night, and truth be told, she knew, KILLBOT had done most of the work. She looked back at Mulder and saw the puppy-dog look on his face, and true to form, she forgave him on the spot. "OK. No harm, no foul." It was a basketball term he'd taught her, and she saw him beam at her words. "What did you find?" "You won't believe it, Scully. C'mere." He scooted to the edge of the bed, perching the laptop on his knees. If he had any problem with the fact that he was stark naked, he didn't show it. She took a second to appreciate his nudity, and considered taking the laptop away and jumping him. Instead, she sat down next to him and peered at the screen. "What does it say?" KILLBOT's output was confusing and arcane. It was a bunch of numbers and letters, mostly pointing to criminal history files in the NCIC or other state police computers around the country. "Over the last three years," Mulder said, adopting his Lecture Voice that Dana found so annoying, "over sixty felons have died under suspicious circumstances." "Sixty? In a country with a million people in jail? That's pretty small numbers, Mulder." "No...let me finish. These sixty all have several things in common. Firstly, they've all been previously convicted of violent felonies. Assault with Intent was the least of the felonies I found. Secondly, they were all accused, within six months of their death, with another violent felony. And thirdly..." Mulder paused, knowing that this was the killing blow. "Thirdly...all of them...every single one...had the most recent charges dismissed, overturned on appeal, or had mistrials declared due to legal technicalities." Mulder's words, his implications, were clear immediately to her. "Someone is..." "...killing them. Vigilantism. Over sixty accused criminals with violent convictions are being killed because someone...maybe a whole bunch of someone's...thinks they're getting away with murder and rape." ----------------------------------------------------------- END PART 12 Please feel free to skip this part if you didn't have a problem with some of the character traits that were brought out in this chapter. End Note : OK, I know that it's not an established fact that Mulder plays the piano...but I was sitting down to sketch this chapter out on the Trusty Legal Pad, and I did a character chart. Mulder in one column, Scully in the other. The rows were words, questions, like "Hobbies?" or "Musical Instruments?" It's a device that I use to strengthen character development, because I can throw things in around the edges of a story that add to the detail. It's my one vanity, that I like the characters to be real, fleshed out, complete. It just seemed logical that a mind like Mulder's would be drawn to the complexity of the piano. Plus, with his photographic memory, and the availability of pianos in hotel restaurants...well, you do the math. And it was either the piano...or the oboe. And I just couldn't see Mulder grabbing an oboe from anyone in a hotel restaurant, or at a chamber music recital. (For those of you that have read this far, and give a half a hoot, the musical instrument I picked for Scully was...........the French horn. Second was the flute. And third was the clarinet. I had a scene in my head where Mulder watched Scully wrap her lips around the mouthpiece of a clarinet, and then...well, you can figure the rest. But then I remembered that good French horn players have to have good tongue control...and that was that.) Mulder, in my mind, as I write and draw him, doesn't have any hobbies. His work is his hobby, his obsession, but we might find out that he had certain other hobbies as a child, before Sam was taken. As for Scully's hobbies...I have no idea. Horticulture, maybe. Genealogy. Something orderly that would appeal to her scientific mind. Perhaps watercolor painting...that has some promise for the chapters to come. Anyway, I've wasted enough time and bandwidth with this.