"Umbra" 4/? 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, the property of 1013 Productions, and the property of Fox Television, a unit of 20th Century Fox, Inc. The author believes that the use of copyrighted characters in the forum known as "Fan Fiction" is protected under the "Fair Use" statutes of US Copyright law. No infringement of any copyright is intended. Characters created by the author remain his property. Original Post : May 1, 1997 Archive Entry : Book I, Chapter 3 Classification : Action Adventure, Scully/Other, Scully/Mulder, Mythology Rating : R (Adult Themes, Violence, Adult Language) Enjoy! ======================================================================== -4- "Well, we all fall in love But we disregard the danger Though we share so many secrets There are some we never tell Why were you so surprised That you never saw the stranger Did you ever let your lover see The Stranger in yourself? Don't be afraid to try again Everyone goes south Every now and then You've done it, why can't someone else? You should know by now You've been there yourself." -- The Stranger Billy Joel Office of Fox Mulder, Special Agent Federal Bureau of Investigation J. Edgar Hoover Building Washington, DC 0815 Hours Special Agent Dana Scully was sitting behind her desk, lost in yet another mountain of paperwork. It seemed to her that the recent marked decrease in the public's trust in the FBI (indeed, in any federal law enforcement agency,) could probably be traced back to the virtual piles, mountains, planets of paperwork that required to accomplish even the simplest tasks. Take the current issue before me, she thought. I need a piece of software to help coordinate scheduling conflicts between the X- Files division, the Forensics department of the criminalistics lab, and the VICAP team. Retail? Forty-six dollars and eleven cents. In the real world, all she should have to do is go to her boss and say, "Hey, I think we need this. It's less than fifty bucks. Cough up some dough." In the real world, the boss would reach into the petty cash box and grab two twenties and a ten, and send Scully on her merry way. But this...this was the US Federal Government. Any purchase made with Federal Dollars had to go through a process so Byzantine, so convoluted that it defied description. First there was the Original Needs Request Form, then the Vendor Bid Worksheet (so that more than one vendor could be given the chance to bid to provide the software to the Feds; didn't want to have the GAO accuse the FBI of playing favorites,) and then the Specification of Specific Need form, which told the bean counters in the OMB over at the White House that yes, the feds did need this particular piece of software. And the list went on. Scully estimated that if it was going to take at least a day, a full working business day to complete all this paperwork. All for a piece of software that cost less than fifty damn dollars. She considered buying it herself, but that entered into yet another area of potential paperwork. FBI regulations clearly stated that no, repeat no, software not specifically authorized and tested by the Office of Technology Security would be installed on any, repeat any, FBI computers, without a single exception. The publicly stated reason for this was so that viruses and other nasty surprises programmed by any nogoodninks couldn't make their way into the FBI's sensitive computer system. Scully had a sneaking suspicion that the collection of former high-school A/V nerds that ran the OTS just liked having that feeling of control they had so lacked during those important formative years. Sighing, she removed her glasses and tossed them onto the pile of paperwork. Leaning back, she used her thumb and forefinger to gently rub the bridge of her nose. "Tired?" Scully gasped and jumped, her hand automatically moving to the SIG Sauer in the small of her back. She turned to see Commander Matthew Stone standing in the doorway. The man was a ghost, Scully thought. She hadn't heard the knob turn, hadn't felt the shift in air pressure that an opening door would cause; the man had suddenly appeared as if from thin air. "God...you startled me!" she said. "Sorry," Stone said, smiling. "But I come bearing gifts." For the first time, Scully noticed that Stone was standing with his hands behind his back. Her hand moved, almost imperceptibly, towards the SIG Sauer again. After all, the part of her mind that was in charge of Personal Safety and Professional Survival thought, he a government assassin. To her relief, the only thing in Stone's hand was the distinctive pink and white box from Dunkin' Doughnuts. "I brought breakfast," he explained, moving to the coffee machine and dropping the box. "Breakfast? I should think not," Scully said. "Mulder will love you forever; he lives on junk food." "Hmmm? Oh...that's too bad," Stone said, mirth dancing in his voice. Opening the box, he removed a delicious-looking French Crueler, twisting it slowly in his fingers. "They are quite delicious, you know." Scully felt the urge to give in crawling around inside her stomach. It would taste good, she knew. She could almost imagine the taste, the sweetness on her tongue as the fried dough dissolved in her mouth. "Ok, you twisted my arm," she said, standing and walking over to join him. "Gimmie." "Get your own," he said, taking a bite. Despite herself, Dana laughed. Frowning, she reached for the box, lifting the lid and peering inside. Last night, their conversation in front of her apartment building had convinced the pretty redheaded agent that there was no way in the world she could ever really be attracted to this man. The life choices he had made, the things he had done, the man he had become had all conspired against them, she had thought. There was no way she could respect a man who spoke of violence, the life-taking, widow-making kind of violence that all civilized people abhorred, as easily as he did. But now, standing next to this man, eating a breakfast pastry, waiting for the coffee to finish brewing, Scully had second thoughts. There was something about him that was so...charming. So disarming. Her analytical mind whirring away, Scully tried to pinpoint what it was that so obviously interested her about this man. She had never considered herself a typical female in certain senses; she was rarely attracted to a real person solely on the basis of their physical appearance. He was good looking, that was true, but that couldn't be all there was. Right? Right. So what was it? Dana took a large bite of a chocolate-glazed Boston Kreme and thought about it as she munched. The men in her life, she knew, the men she respected, looked up to, the men she used as a yardstick to judge the other people in her life against had to have some effect on this entire equation. So, who did she look up to? Mulder, in a way. There was a time, Scully remembered, when had literally stood in awe of her partner. That day had long since passed, due to all the experiences they had shared. Although hard-pressed to admit it, Scully knew that Mulder felt in his heart of hearts that they were more or less equals by this point. So...who else? Her father, of course. What would Ahab think of this man? Scully wondered. He would recognize the need for such men, and while not embracing their existence, would tolerate it in the name of furthering the aims and goals of US foreign policy and the American Way of Life. With a wry grin, she wondered what Ahab would think if she had brought Matt Stone home as a suitor. That would have been an interesting discussion, she was sure. Skinner. Skinner was another person Scully looked up to and respected. While not always forthcoming and open about his feelings and emotions (something Scully treasured in a man,) Skinner did have something that she admired: His moral compass seemed to be strictly aligned. Skinner had a very well-defined understanding of what was both right and wrong. "So," Stone said, breaking into her reverie, "you're a Navy brat, huh?" Scully nodded. "You already knew that. You remembered my father, I thought." Stone nodded. "Bill Scully is a legend in Naval Intelligence." Scully frowned. She had never heard that before. "Oh? How so?" Stone guffawed. "Well, Special Agent Scully," "Dana," Scully said, without knowing exactly why. "Dana, then," Stone corrected, much more softly. "Well, Dana, most of the stories that I know that concern your father are classified." He paused, trying to remember something that he could tell her, something that would break the ice just a little more between them. "Well, one time your father was recruiting agents for a very sensitive mission aboard an aircraft carrier. An undercover assignment for Naval Intelligence. Due to the...nature of this assignment, the men selected had to be able to swim fifty yards under water without surfacing. The type of man they were looking for was tough, inventive, someone who thought for themselves but was still capable of taking orders. Motivated, I guess, is what they were looking for. "So all the men showed up at Little Creek for the initial testing. There was this one kid, a Boatswain's mate second class, who really, really wanted the mission. Only thing was...well, let me tell you the whole story. "The test was set up like this. The volunteers had to jump into the deep end of an Olympic-size pool, submerge to the bottom, and grab two buckets full of sand, and then swim to the other end carrying the buckets, without surfacing. "This kid jumps in, but instead of swimming, just picks up the buckets and starts walking along the bottom, carrying the buckets. He makes it the whole way. Must have taken him all of three minutes. Gasping and wheezing, he surfaces at the shallow end and slams the buckets down on the deck. Your father, who at the time was a Lieutenant Commander, got in this poor man's face, his own face red, screaming and yelling. "'What the fuck do you think you're doing, Mister?' your father screams. `I thought you were told to swim this pool!' The poor man sputters and gasps and then admits that he doesn't know how to swim. Now, your father, who recognized a serious non-quitter grunt when he saw one, smiled and said, `Aw, shit, son...we can teach you to fuckin' swim. Welcome to the fuckin' program.'" Despite the salty language (which her father had taken great care not to use in front of his wife and children,) Scully could just see her father doing and saying the things that Stone was describing. She started laughing with him, her arms across her chest, her shoulders shaking with the effort. Which is exactly how Special Agent Fox Mulder found them a moment later when he entered the office. Mulder walked in, his head down, thoughts on the document that Langley had faxed him last night. He was going to have to explain to Scully that Stone was all he said he was...and more. Much, much more. But the first image he had that morning of his partner was of her looking up with what could only be described as...what? Adoration? Something similar, he thought. She was looking at that moron Stone like he was the captain of the football team and she was the head cheerleader. "Scully," he said. And then, after a pause, "Commander." "Mulder!" Scully said, her smile fading as she saw the expression on her partner's face. "Good morning," she added, much more formally. "Yes," Mulder said. "It is morning, isn't it?" "Doughnut?" Stone offered, holding the box up. Despite his desire not to accept anything from this man, the sweet, delicious odor of the pastries reached Mulder's nose, and he was gone. Reaching in and selecting a powdered jelly, Mulder took a bite and lifted his chin towards Scully. "Can I see you outside a second?" he asked. To Stone, he added, "FBI business." "Sure, go ahead. I'll just finish my coffee," Stone replied. If he took offense at not being included in the discussion, he didn't show it. Scully joined Mulder in the hallway, closing the door behind her. Crossing her arms, she arched an eyebrow. "What is it, Mulder?" Mulder reached into his pocket and took out the folded printout. "Langley sent this over last night..." "Langley, as in the CIA, or Langley, as in that paranoid Wayne Campbell wannabee you call a source?" "That would be the latter," Mulder said around a mouthful of jelly doughnut. "Take a look." Scully looked dubiously at the folded page that Mulder was offering, and then took it, scanning it quickly. "Mulder, this is classified!" she said. "So?" Letting go with an exasperated sigh, Scully continued to read. "So? It's his assignment roster since he left the Academy. What's the big deal?" "First," Mulder said, ticking off the items that had caught his attention last night, "he's not wearing an Academy ring. I have never, ever known a graduate of the US Naval Academy at Annapolis who has not worn their ring with pride. Secondly, there are some huge gaps in this service record. It shows that he graduated in 1977, but his first assignment was to something called the Office of Management and Budget in 1982. Five years missing. And I checked. There is no such office in the Navy, or anywhere in the Defense Department for that matter." "So...? Mulder, he works in sensitive, classified areas. The Office of Management and Budget is probably a cover name for another assignment. Stop seeing ogres under every bridge," she admonished. Mulder blinked, not sure he was hearing correctly. "Are you defending him?" he asked. Sighing, Scully avoided the question. "Mulder, Skinner assigned this man to us on the advice of a dear old friend of his. Do you trust Skinner?" Mulder nodded, taking another bite. "I don't trust Stone, though." Scully nodded. "I know. That much is obvious. So don't trust him, Mulder. You don't trust anyone." "I trust you," he said quietly. "I know," she said, just as softly. Reaching out, she brushed powdered sugar off his tie. "I trust him," she said gently. Mulder felt something flare inside him, something white-hot and unfamiliar. "Is it because he knew your father?" he asked nastily. Scully set her jaw, biting the inside of her cheek to stifle the response that had leapt immediately to her tongue. "Enjoy your doughnut, Mulder" Scully said, pushing past him and re-entering the office. Mulder turned to follow her progress and watched as Stone looked up, a warm, appreciative smile lighting his face. And then his vision was blocked as Scully closed the door in his face. Mulder stood there, his mouth agape. I can't believe she... What? The jumble of thoughts that were twisting their way through Mulder's mind were both unfamiliar and confusing. He pushed the door open and entered what was, after all, his office. Scully and Stone were by the coffee machine, smiling at each other. Mulder looked down at the paper he was holding in his hand and quickly folded it, shoving it back inside his jacket pocket. "Everything settled?" Stone asked. "Oh yes," Scully said, shooting Mulder a warning glance. "Everything's just fine." Mulder grunted and moved to his desk, finishing the doughnut in two huge bites. "Heather," he croaked around a mouthful of sugared dough and jelly. "What are we going to do about her?" "I've changed my mind," Stone admitted. "I think we should approach her and warn her about...what's been happening." Mulder and Scully nodded in unison. "I agree," Scully said. "Where is she now?" "Out at Vint Hill," Stone replied. Mulder frowned. "There's no way we can get in ." Vint Hill was the headquarters of the super- secret National Reconnaissance Office, the quasi-military agency charged with maintaining all of the United State's surveillance satellites. Access to the Vint Hill facility was one of the hardest to obtain. "I have clearance," Stone admitted. "I can get us at least in the front door." "What is she doing there?" Mulder wanted to know. "I thought she was working for DCSINTEL." "She is," Stone said. "But she's on a...project at NRO. I'm sorry, Agent Mulder, but I can't give you any more detail than that. It's classified." "I see," Mulder said, shooting a significant look in Scully's direction. She ignored it. "Commander Stone, would you excuse us for a moment?" Scully asked sweetly. "I need to speak to my partner." Stone looked at the diminutive Federal Agent for two heartbeats and then nodded. "Of course. I'll just be outside." After Stone left, Scully spun on her partner. "Listen to me, Mulder. This assignment is going to be hard enough without your...attitude. We owe it to Skinner to do this right!" Mulder saw the anger and frustration in his partner's eyes and nodded weakly. "You're right, Scully. What do you suggest?" Scully's head snapped back. She hadn't expected Mulder to cave so easily, but she knew better than to look a gift horse in the mouse. "I suggest that I go with Commander Stone to NRO to warn Heather. As a matter of fact, I think that unless it's absolutely necessary, I should be the primary contact between the Navy and this office." Scully crossed her arms, waiting for the argument that she was sure was about to begin. Again, Mulder surprised her. "I think that's a good idea, Scully. The Gunmen are going to set up an appointment with me with a manufacturer of a silicon cast generator. The type of device that I think is being used to commit these crimes is rare, but not that rare. We might be able to solve this one by old-fashioned legwork. You and Stone go to NRO and warn Heather." He stood, checking his pistol and cell-phone. "Call me if you need me." With that, he took his leave of the office, passing Stone in the hallway. "Scully will brief you," was all he said. Stone shrugged and re-entered the office. Strange bird, that Mulder, he thought. *** National Reconnaissance Office Vint Hill Station 0914 Hours The road leading up to the NRO was guarded by a single gatehouse. The man sitting inside didn't look military, Scully thought. He looked more like a private security guard. There was a simple sign on the front of the gatehouse: WARNING:RESTRICTED GOVERNMENT PROPERTY. UNAUTHORIZED ACCESS PROHIBITED BY LAW. LOITERERS WILL BE ARRESTED AND PROSECUTED. Stone pulled up to the gatehouse, his ID at the ready. The guard leaned in and examined Stone's credentials, and then shot a glance over at Scully, who was holding her FBI ID up for examination. "Take this road-" the guard started. "I've been here before, sir," Stone said. The guard nodded and stood, waving them through. As Stone wound his way up to the main building, Scully looked out the window, her thoughts far away. The ride over from the Hoover building had been spent mostly in silence, each of them remembering the dinner and discussion from last night. "Can I ask you a question?" she finally said. "You just did," Stone pointed out. Scully smirked. "You know what I mean." "Go ahead," Stone replied. "Your service record is...interesting. Gaps. You don't wear your ring." Stone waited a beat and then said, "I didn't hear a question." "Well...what's going on? My father graduated from Annapolis. He never took his ring off, not once in over 20 years of Naval service." Stone parked the car in a space marked for visitor's use and killed the engine. "I guess I couldn't say that I'm not a ring-knocker. It's true; most graduates don't take the ring off for any reason. But sometimes, Special Agent Scully, I've had to go undercover as an enlisted man. Now you can understand that an EM can't go aboard the Nimitz wearing an Annapolis ring. Might cause problems." That was a pretty trite explanation, Scully thought, but said nothing. "And the gaps in your service record?" Stone sighed. "Most of that is classified, Special Agent Scully-" "Dana," she insisted, again surprising herself. "Dana," he amended, much more softly. "You have to understand. We have different beliefs. Differing philosophies. I believe in things, in the need for certain types of actions that you do not. That's fine; two people can co-exist with different beliefs. It's one of the basic tenants that this country was based on." Co-exist? Scully thought to herself. Interesting choice of words, Commander. "But if you must know, between my graduation and the first assignment that appears on my service record, I attended some specialized training, and then had three cruises before I had to change my occupational specialty due to injury." "That injury doesn't appear on your service record," Scully pointed out. "I know, Agent Scully...Dana. That injury occurred in a place that I was not supposed to be, doing something that our government wishes to deny ever happened. And because, while recovering from my injuries, I made it clear that I intended to make the Navy my career, it was decided to `remove' that particular assignment from my service record. Any officer that gets my package will see that missing chunk and know that unless he wants a visit from the Special Agents at NIS to just nod and pretend like it's not even there." "Institutional blindness," Scully remarked. "Helpful, sometimes." "As I'm sure it's helpful in your job, Dana. I'm sure that there are things you've seen or done in your job, things you're not quite proud of as a person and as a representative of your government, things you've left out of official documentation, reports, whatever. It's the nature of what we do, Dana. The nature of the type of people that are attracted to the kinds of job that we are." They turned and looked at each other and shared another smile. God, she's gorgeous, Stone thought. "Can I ask you something?" Stone said. "You just did," Scully replied, a wry grin twisting her face. "Touche," he granted. "Your partner..." "What about Mulder?" "You...and he. Are you...close?" Scully snorted, raising a hand to her face to hide the smile. She made as if she were rubbing her nose, all the while thinking, Where to begin? "Mulder and I are not typical partners, I'll be the first to admit that," she started. "But if you're asking if we have a relationship that exists outside the boundaries of our established professional partnership, I'd have to say no." "Why?" Stone asked softly. Surprised by the question, Scully said the first thing that came to mind. "Well, it's prohibited by regulations, for one thing." "Forget that for a minute. It's obvious you care about each other, more than other partners might." Shifting in her seat, Scully wondered how the conversation had arrived here. "Mulder and I are...close, in a way. We're partners, and I consider him my best friend. I think he feels the same way about me..." He feels more than that, little girl, Stone thought. "...but as for a personal relationship of the kind I think you mean...No. That's just not...what Mulder and I are about." "Is it?" "No," Scully repeated. "I'd be lying if I said the thought never entered my mind. It's human nature. Mulder is an interesting, intelligent, attractive man. Of course, from time to time, the thought of what it would be like to be with him... in that way...crosses my mind." Liar, she thought. Some days you can't get it out of your mind. "But the fact of the matter is that Mulder and I are partners. Our work is very important to us, and to the Bureau. Any chance of a personal relationship is far, far outweighed by the job. And that's all there is to it." Stone nodded, apparently accepting the explanation. "I see. One last question. Have you ever had a relationship with someone you worked with?" Without thinking, Scully nodded. "Once. An instructor at Quantico and I had a relationship for about a year." "What happened?" Scully turned and looked out the window. "He died," she said quietly. Quickly, she added, "But not while we were involved. His death was related to my work. We investigated his death as part of the X- Files." "Sounds like an interesting story," Stone admitted, "but I won't press you on it." "Good." "Well, we should be getting inside. The people watching the video monitors are probably sure we're making out in here." Why did that thought cause my heart to skip a beat? Scully wondered. "Why did you want to know?" Scully asked. "About Jack, I mean." Stone opened his door, and stepped out. Leaning back down to peer inside the car, he grinned. "So I know that I still have a chance." Oh, my, Scully thought. Blushing, she exited the car. *** "Please have a seat," the receptionist said. "Major Hynes will be down shortly." Stone guided Scully over to the waiting area, his hand at the small of her back. They sat next to each other, both of their thoughts on other subjects. "A chance?" Scully whispered to him. "What made you think you ever had a chance?" Stone looked at her, turning the full intensity of his gaze upon Scully. "Did I?" he asked simply. His direct question stripped any defenses she might have put up cleanly away. "Yes," she admitted. "You still do." He said nothing. "Matt!" The voice came from behind them, and Scully twisted in her seat. Major Heather Hynes, United States Army, was walking down the hallway. She wore a Class-A uniform, green skirt and jacket, and flats. Scully stood, watching the way Heather moved. She was tall, about five ten or eleven, with long, slim legs, golden blonde hair and a supermodel's smile. And she was looking at Stone the way a woman looks at a long-lost lover, Scully realized. A combination of possession and hunger. They've been involved, Scully thought. She knew she was right. And that thought filled her with an emotion she hadn't felt for years. Jealousy. *** Publishing Offices of the Lone Gunmen Undisclosed Location Metro Washington, DC area "Listen to me very carefully," Mulder said slowly. "I have done a lot for you guys over the years, and I need this one. I'm asking for payback. I want to know what, exactly, Commander Matthew Stone was doing during those five missing years. I don't care what you have to do, who you have to bribe or threaten. I want to know." He studied the faces of his three friends. "Just how good looking his this guy, anyway?" Frohickie asked. "Fuck you," Mulder said, standing to go. "Just do it." They watched Mulder leave. "Geez, he's got it bad," Byers remarked. "Well, duh," Frohickie said. "You've seen Scully." "Let's get to work." Several hours later, the trio stood in front of a computer monitor. "Should we tell him?" Byers wondered aloud. "How can we not?" Langley responded. "He asked us to, and he'll know if we're lying." "Just how much danger do you think Scully's in?" Frohickie wondered. "Jesus, read the screen!" Langley said. Frohickie nodded. "I'll call." *** Office of Special Agent Fox Mulder Federal Bureau of Investigation J. Edgar Hoover Building K. Washington, DC. 1345 Hours "Mulder," he said, lifting the cellphone to his ear. "It's Frohickie. We gotta talk." "I'm on my way." =================================================================== End Chapter 4 "The Stranger" Words & Music Copyright (c) 1977 by Billy Joel. Copyright 1977, 1985 Impulsive Music and Columbia Records. From the album "Billy Joel Greatest Hits Volume I" Used without permission. No infringement intended.