"Umbra" 17/? 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. No infringement of any copyright is intended. Characters created by the author remain his property. Original Post : June 20, 1997 (Happy Birthday to ME!) Archive Entry : Book I, Chapter 17 Classification : Action Adventure, MSR Rating : R (Adult Themes, Violence, Adult Language, nudity) : PLEASE SEE CONTENT NOTES AND CONTENT WARNINGS. Notes : None Antishipper : 1 on a scale of 1-10. Shipper : 9 on a scale of 1-10. Casting : Glenne Headly, "Commander Maggie King" : Tom Skerritt "Commander Scott Adams" : William Baldwin , "Lieutenant Vinny "Boombox" Ferucci : John Glover, "Danny Graves" Timeline : 4th year, prior to anything having to do with cancer. Content Warning: This file contains depictions of sexual contact between two consenting hetereosexual adults whom are deeply in love with each other. For a fuller description of the sexual acts depicted herin, please see the CONTENT NOTES at the <> of this file. Enjoy! ---- US Navy F14/D Tomcat, Tail Number N94432 Approaching Mirimar NAS Outside San Diego, California "Mirimar approach, this is Ghostrider two six six," Boombox radioed. "Request approach and landing instructions for Mirimar. We are a flight of two Foxtrot one fours." "Ahhhh," Mirimar approach radioed back, "...roger that, Ghostrider two six six. Turn to new heading zero zero three, descend to angles six and report on final." "Roger that, Mirimar approach," Vinny radioed, banking the huge fighter into a gentle left turn. Switching to the intercom, he checked in with his backseater. "How you doing back there, Mr. Mulder?" "Fine," Mulder said, although he didn't feel it. The aerobatic moves they had pulled on him were still having an effect on his stomach, an effect that worsened every time he thought about it. He'd barely managed to keep his lunch intact, and he wasn't looking forward to the landing. "Tell me, Boombox, I know you guys use those wire things when you land on an aircraft carrier. Do you do the same on land?" Vinny's laughter filled Mulder's helmet. "Only in training, sir. We just drop right down, set this puppy on the tarmac, and reverse the `ol engines. Physics takes care of the rest." Mulder nodded, not bothering to answer. Sounded like a normal commercial landing to him. Vinny smiled to himself and reached down to touch a small toggle switch almost lost amongst the dozens of buttons, switches, dials and gauges that made up the Tomcat's cockpit. The switch cut Mulder's radio feed. "Uh, Mirimar tower, Ghostrider two six six requesting a flyby. We have VIPs on board," he added, hoping that would carry some weight with the controller. "Uh...two two six, can you specify nature of VIPs?" the tower asked. "Negative at this time," Vinny called back. There was a long pause. Finally, "Uh, two six six, Mirimar tower. Request granted...within limits. Please keep the noise to a minimum. You are cleared for a flyby of the tower in loose deuce formation. Nothing fancy, two six six." "Roger that, Miramar...and thanks," Vinny answered. He smiled. His passenger may not have liked the little stunt they'd pulled above Hawaii, but he might like this... Vinny knew that his wingman had heard the entire exchange because Adams flashed him a thumbs up from the other aircraft. Using hand signals, they decided who would lead and who would follow on their high- speed approach. "Prepare for landing," Vinny called on the intercom, trying to hide the smile in his voice. Mulder heard it, however, and grimaced. Vinny cut power and added flaps as he made what appeared to be his final turn on approach to the runway. Mulder looked over and saw that the other plane was not behind or above them, as he would have expected, but was ten feet of their right wing, at the same altitude, descending at the same rate. As they pulled within a hundred feet of the runway, just close enough for Mulder to think that maybe they weren't going to pull anything, that maybe this damned flight was indeed over, it happened. At the same moment, both pilots took in the flaps, threw the throttles to the firewall and beyond, and kicked in the afterburner. The sudden acceleration pushed the plane past the speed of sound with a jolt, throwing Mulder back against his ejection seat. As if on cue, Mulder's plane broke left once it had passed the tower, the other plane breaking right at the same moment. The rocketing explosion of the sonic boom rattled the Tomcat's canopy, and Mulder was sure that they had blown an engine. From the ground, the move was spectacular. From the air, the world turned left to right, and then right to left as the pilot executed a perfect two-point snap roll, bringing the plane level with the runway. With a chuckle, Vinny cut power and added flaps, letting the fierce airplane flare gently before the rubber wheels squealed against the tarmac. "On the ground at ten past the hour," the tower called, sounding almost bored. They were used to the theatrics of fighter pilots. A hundred yards behind Mulder's plane, Scully's landed equally softly, and together they taxied to the transient ramp. A Navy Captain was waiting for them in summer whites. He watched carefully as the two planes taxied to a stop and cut their engines. A moment later, two crewmen ran up with ladders and waited for the pilots to pop the canopies open. Scully and Mulder climbed awkwardly out and descended the ladders, both of them still wearing their flight helmets. The Navy Captain walked over and saluted the both of them. Scully snapped to attention and returned the salute. Mulder made a wave in the general direction of his forehead. "Dr. Scully, Dr. Mulder, I'm Captain Ebert. Admiral Watts called ahead and asked me to provide you with anything you need." Mulder and Scully exchanged a glance. The Captain had not referred to them by their FBI titles, which meant that Watts had probably omitted that particular fact when he'd called Ebert. "Thank you, Captain," Scully said, unbuckling and removing her helmet. "Right now, all we want is to find a car rental agency and a motel." Ebert frowned. "I'd assumed that you'd be staying at the BOQ." "No, sir, our business is going to take us off base, and we like to keep a low profile." Ebert nodded as if this answer was at least halfway expected. "Very well. I've arranged for a car for the two of you. The Admiral did mention that he didn't want a standard motor pool issue vehicle, so I arranged...something else." He indicated a car parked twenty feet away that neither agent had noted. When they did, they both blinked. BMW. 735i. Gleaming forest green. And from where Mulder stood, it looked like the car had a leather interior. "Uh-" Scully started. Mulder shot her a glance. Scully chose to remain quiet. Mulder removed his helmet and offered his hand. "Thank you, Captain. I'll be sure to communicate to the Admiral how helpful you've been." Captain Ebert beamed at this. Kiss-ass, Mulder thought. One of the crewman had retrieved both their bags from the two aircraft and was waiting expectantly for instructions. Mulder made a move as if to take them, and the crewman blanched. "Put them in the car please," Scully said, pointing to the BMW. At least that sounded like an order, and the crewman almost ran to the vehicle. Mulder reached into a pocket of his flight suit and came back with the khaki fore-and-aft cap that Watts had provided to make them blend in. It bore the silver oak leaf of a Commander. He made several attempts at affixing it to his head before he succeeded. He looked over to see that Scully's was already on. "Well, Captain, we have to be going," Mulder said. "We're on kind of a timetable." The Captain nodded. "Understood." He handed Mulder a business card. "My number is on that, pager on the back. When you're done with the car, please give me a call so I can make arrangements to pick it up. Also, if you need further transportation, please don't hesitate to call." Mulder exchanged another glance with his partner. "You mean you'll arrange for another flight on one of those?" He asked, indicating the Tomcats behind him with a thumb. "Yes, sir. My understanding with Admiral Watts is that you get everything you need. Post haste." "Thank you, sir," Scully said, moving towards the car. "But we really must be going." The Captain saluted once again, and Scully returned it. Mulder tried to mimic her action, but he failed miserably. They got into the car, Mulder driving. Finding the keys in the ignition, he started the huge BMW and waved to Captain Ebert as he drove away. Captain Ronald Ebert, USN, Deputy Chief of Staff to the Commanding Officer, Naval Air Station Mirimar, watched his two charges as they drove away. He waited until they had turned the corner before reaching for the cellphone in his back pocket. He dialed. "They just left," he said, and immediately disconnected the call. *** Motel 6 Mission Beach, California Mulder threw his bags on the bed and sighed, unzipping the flight suit as he headed for the bathroom. Only problem with an F14 was no facilities, he thought. No way to take a tinkle. He wondered how the pilots flying long missions handled it. Finished, he returned to the room and flopped on the bed, listening to the sounds of Scully moving around next door. He closed his eyes, and a moment later heard a soft knock on the connecting door. "Come," he said, mimicking Watts' command voice. Scully entered, still wearing the flight suit and the fore-and-aft cap. She had unzipped the suit enough to show that she was wearing an olive drab tank-top beneath it. There was a small half-circle of sweat darkening the neckline. Mulder's eyes opened. "My God..." he whispered. "There is something about a woman in uniform," he said. She smiled, reaching up to take the cap off. "Not supposed to wear these indoors," she smiled, tossing it on the bed. "Against regulations." Mulder shrugged. "Do me a favor," he said softly. "See if you can manage to hold onto that. When we get off this case..." "Yes?" Scully asked, a grin lighting her face. "...maybe we can play soldier." "Sailor," Scully corrected. "Whatever." She just smiled, running a hand through her sweaty hair. "Shower?" "In there," he said, pointing. Scully grunted. "I was asking you to join me, Mulder." "Oh." He stood, working the zipper on the suit. Scully joined him in shedding clothes, and a few seconds later they were both nude. Mulder stood up, staring at his partner. Suddenly shy, she crossed her arms across her breasts. "What are you staring at, Mulder?" "Nothing!" he said, shaking his head to break his gaze. "It was just..." he trailed off. "What?" "You're so...gorgeous," he said. She smiled. "Good answer. Now into the shower." He nodded, moving past the bed towards the bathroom. Once he had the water hot enough and steam was filling the small confines of the bathroom, they both climbed into the shower and proceeded to wash the grime of the trip off. "So..." Scully said, washing his chest. "What do we know?" "Too much. Not enough. Pieces," Mulder sighed, running his hands through his hair. "We know that there is an operation code named LIBERTY BELL that was conceived a long time ago to allow the military to temporarily take over the government in the case that the President goes nuts. That plan was scrapped, or so we think. We know that the killer is most likely one Danny Graves, older brother to Scotty and Sammy Graves, both of whom were killed by our Commander Stone. We know that Stone is somehow involved with the remaining Graves brother. We know that Danny was sending a message to Stone with that playing card on Haynes' body. What message, we have no idea. How much Stone is involved, we do not know. We think Stone is in San Diego, but we have no idea where, or why." He paused. "That about sums it up, Scully." She nodded, still working on his chest. "My turn," Mulder said, taking the washcloth and soap from her. Turning Scully away from him, he began washing her back. "I'm open to suggestions about what we should do next," he said. Scully thought about that as Mulder's hands worked her body over. God, his touch was exquisite. "Well, we have a list of all of Mike's previous assignments. Assuming we trust Karn, we should have him take a close, personal look at those officers and see if we can find a link." "Link?" Mulder asked. "Sure. There has to be some common denominator. Graves has to be finding them some way. There has to be something that stands out, something in their past, an assignment they had...some way for him to find these men and corrupt them to his cause. Once we find that, we can get a bead on tracking Graves." Mulder nodded. Makes sense, he thought. "Done." Mulder announced. Scully turned and faced him again, looking up at the eyes of the man she loved. "So, we call Karn. And then what?" "Well, we know that Watts was stationed in San Diego at some point. We go find the officer that has his job and we flip him. And we keep flipping until Graves shows up. Or shows his hand." Scully grinned. This was getting to be almost fun. Jetting around the country on the Navy's dime, going places no one in the FBI had ever gone before inside the military. "What do you think he has planned, Mulder?" Scully asked. "Takeover of the government?" She shook her head. "Impossible. Even if he..." she trailed off. "What?" Mulder asked, reaching around her slick, wet body to turn the shower off. "How was it going to work?" she asked, thinking out loud. "How is the plan supposed to work? The old one, I mean. How was the military going to take over the government if the President went into meltdown?" Mulder thought about it. "Several ways. Take the President out. Assume control. Or, remove him from the chain of command. Steal the codes and make them vanish." "What about...in extremis?" "What do you mean?" "Say the President is paranoid enough to think that something like that is coming. What if he takes the codes and vanishes into one of the secure war-bunkers? Secure, isolated communication channels. Hardened steel and concrete. He could start World War III from under some mountain. What would the military do then?" "Ignore the orders?" She shook her head. Mulder's understanding of the military was vague at best, downright narrow at worst. "No...see, the communications are set up so that no one can countermand the President's orders. It's not like the Pentagon can just pull a switch somewhere and turn him off. That goes against everything the Constitution stands for regarding civilian control of the military. But what...what if?" Mulder thought about it. "Only one possible way." "Nuclear strike," Scully whispered. "They'd have to nuke the mountain. Hard." "So what you're saying is..." "LIBERTY BELL has changed. Instead of wiping out the President's mountain hideout, I think...oh my God, Mulder...I think that Graves wants to nuke Washington!" Mulder considered this. "How...how could he? The entire system is set up so one insane man can't start World War III, let alone launch a missile against the nation's capitol!" Scully shook her head, getting out of the shower and reaching for a towel. "Back in the days of ballistic missiles, bombers and submarines, sure. But...nuclear tipped Tomahawk missiles, alpha packs... God, Mulder, if he has access to enough fissionable materials, he could build an atomic device small enough to fit in a fifty-five gallon drum that would turn Washington into a smoking hole." Mulder exited the shower and grabbed his own towel. "Ok, here's what we do. You call Karn. I'll call Maggie King. I want to know exactly what Stone told her. You find out who's doing Watts' old job here in San Diego, or whom, if there's more than one. Get us clearance to talk to them ASAP." He moved past her, heading for the room. Scully's hand on his arm stopped him cold. "Mulder...are we sure about this?" He turned back. "Right now...it's all we have." *** Motel 6 Mission Beach, California Thirty-five minutes later Scully punched the OFF button on her cellphone and dropped her pen on the bed next to her notepad. Karn had come through, as always, providing her a list of names. Three officers, all of them assigned to jobs that Watts' had held at one point or another in his career. Two of them, and their jobs, gave her pause. Lieutenant (jg) Frank Mahler was the Deputy Planning Officer, Office of the Chief of Staff, Commanding Officer, Naval Air Station, Mirimar. He was a staff puke, an officer in charge of memos and reports. In other words, no worries...aside from the fact that he had physical access to the CO of NAS Mirimar. Lieutenant Ally Roche, an Annapolis graduate, was currently assigned as a Project Officer on the TLAM-N. (Tomahawk Land Attack Missile-Nuclear.) She had access to `specials,' TLAM's with nuclear tips. Cause for concern. Over two hundred of the TLAM-N's were stored at Seal Beach, a twenty-minute drive away. The nuclear payload in a TLAM-N was more than enough to turn most of DC into a radioactive rubble. And finally, Lieutenant Commander Harry Carpenter, a WASPy name if ever there was one, was assigned as Tasking Officer for SUBGRU 12. He had access to the communications systems that linked all of PACFLT's submarines and surface sub-support ships. Another cause for concern. So far, Karn's computers had been unable to come up with any single fact linking the three officers together. Two out of three had attended Annapolis. The other was a ROTC graduate. One woman, two men. One black (Harry, oddly enough,) two white. Mahler was from New Orleans, Roche from Pittsburgh, and Carpenter was from Quiounchetutoung, Maine. Karn was running a slightly deeper background check even as Scully waited for Mulder to finish his call to Maggie King. As he talked, she watched him, not listening to his words, but just...watching. She felt the smile teasing at her face, and wanted to let it bloom, to let him see how much she enjoyed just watching him. He had his glasses on and was asking quiet, direct questions, making notes as King replied. He wasn't looking at her, but Scully knew he could see her out of the corner of his eye, and she stretched languidly, turning her side to drink in the sight of him. He was still wearing only the towel. He'd been so caught up in the process once again that he'd just forged ahead. Scully had at least taken the time to don a long T-shirt and panties, and was enjoying the feel of the air conditioning on her skin as she waited for Mulder. He finally tore his cellphone from his ear. She heard the tinny beep as he ended the call and watched as he tossed it on the chair next to the bed. "So?" she asked. "You first." Scully gave him a quick rundown of what she'd learned, including the fact that Karn had cleared their entrance to Mirimar that night. Lieutenant Roche was on duty until 1700. Mulder nodded. "Sounds good to me." "So...what did King have to say?" Mulder shrugged. "She seemed to think that everything Stone had told her was a smooth, calculating lie." "What did he say?" Scully wanted to know. "Basically, the mission to Iraq was to kill Saddam, but with some new information. According to Stone, they had an inside man, someone close to Saddam, a bodyguard. He conspired with some senior Iraqi military leaders to pinpoint Saddam's location and somehow communicate this to Stone and the Goblin team. Then the team would use the PAVE TACK laser designator, and the F16 carrying that big `ol bomb would do the rest. "According to what Stone told King, the traitor was discovered, Saddam executed him and sent a message to the Pentagon through the Syrians that said if we attempted to assassinate him, he'd launch the sixty SCUD missiles he had aimed as Israel. According to King, all of those missiles had chemical warheads. So, the mission was scrapped, and it was only by divine providence that Stone decided to break radio silence. Scott didn't want to cancel the mission, but since Stone knew more about the...political implications of letting Iraq fire sixty chemical warheads at Israel, Stone did what he thought was right and killed Scott." Scully nodded, absorbing all of it. "Was that all he said?" she asked. "No, and that's the weird part." Mulder looked at his notes again and frowned. "What?" "Well...I asked her about this three times. According to Commander King...Maggie...Stone said that if he didn't get to San Diego that, quote, `a lot of people were going to die,' unquote." Scully leaned back against the bed, thinking about this new wrinkle. "It fits," she said slowly. "It's all starting to fit..." Mulder glanced at her. "What?" "Mulder, I think Stone may not be the total prick that we thought." Her statement rocked him back as hard as if he'd been hit in the face with a shovel. "What?" She shook her head. "No, personally...as a man, he's an asshole, Mulder. I'll never change my opinion about that. But...things that he said to me, before we knew what kind of man he was, things that he said about himself, about his values, and the things he holds dear. I think... I think Stone may be trying to do the same thing we are, only from a different angle." She paused. "I think Stone's trying to track Danny Graves down as well. I think Stone knows what LIBERTY BELL is about, or what it might be about. I think that he might have caught scent of Danny earlier, and was investigating it, and that Danny reacted by killing all the members of the Goblin team that his brother commanded. All the people that he holds responsible for his brother's death." "Except Stone," Mulder pointed out. "The man that actually pulled the trigger. Does that make sense?" Scully shrugged. "Does it make sense to launch a nuclear attack against your own country? Mulder, Graves is obviously not playing with a full deck. He has motivations that we can only begin to guess at." "I wonder..." Mulder said. "What?" "I wonder if Danny Graves is the fourth man in the hearing room. The man that was standing with Admiral Miles, Stone and the president of the Article 32 board." Scully nodded, accepting this. "It would make sense." "And there's a good way to find out." Mulder grabbed his cellphone from the chair, not noticing that his towel had slipped down and pooled around his feet. Special Agent Dana Scully, MD was presented with a view of her partner that she had spent four years trying to imagine. His deliciously sculpted backside within arms reach. He put the phone down without dialing. "Shit." "What?" "Hamm told me that Danny Graves was from the page that isn't even in the books. What are the chances of finding a picture of him that we can fax to Armfield?" "Slim to none," Scully admitted. "Unless..." Mulder said, suddenly snapping his fingers. He dialed again. *** Apartment of Commander Maggie King Annapolis, Maryland The phone rang again, and Maggie seriously considered not answering it. First it had been Richie, calling again and again, begging to come over. She had rebuffed him every time, eager to find a way to end that relationship as soon as possible. And then it had been that Mulder person, bugging her with questions about what she'd been instructed to tell Karn. My God, she thought, what is my life coming to? In the end, she answered. "Hello?" "Commander, this is Fox Mulder again. I have...a question, and a favor to ask." "What?" she asked. She hated the distant, lifeless tone of her own voice. She sounded like a lost little girl, not a Commander in the Unites States Navy, a professional military officer in the peak of her career. She sounded pathetic. She hated herself. "Do you know where Commander Stone lives?" Maggie nodded, even though Mulder couldn't see her. "Uh-huh." "Do you think you could get in there?" Maggie paused. "I have a key," she admitted. Mulder chose, wisely, to not press her about how that situation had occurred. "Here's what I need. I need you to get inside his apartment, and see if he has any information regarding Daniel Graves. Danny Graves, got that?" "Yes," Maggie said. "Pictures...most important is pictures, Maggie. We need a picture of this guy as soon as possible." "When do you want me to-?" "Tonight. If possible." Maggie shook her head, again aware that Mulder couldn't see it, but knowing that he would hear it in her voice. It was too much. It was all too much. "Where are you?" Maggie asked. "San Diego," Mulder answered. "Have you found him?" she asked, and then hated herself for it. "No. Not yet. But if we find Danny, we'll probably find Matt." Maggie nodded. "Ok...I'll see what I can do. I'll call you." And with that, she hung up, turned, ran to the bathroom and vomited. *** Motel 6 Mission Beach, California Mulder looked at the phone and shrugged. "Commander King has a key to Stone's apartment. She's going in to see if she can find anything." "Like a picture of Danny Graves?" Mulder nodded. "If we're lucky." Scully snorted. "If we could _ever_ be that lucky, Mulder." He smiled and looked down at himself, startled to find that he was naked. "Uh, sorry," he mumbled, reaching for the towel around his ankles. "No, don't," Scully said. Mulder stood there, not sure what to do. "I like...looking at you," Scully said, and then paused. "Like...that," she added. Mulder suddenly felt like a slide under one of Scully's microscopes. She moved until she was on her knees, and she glided towards the edge of the bed where Mulder stood. She reached out a tentative hand and touched his chest, her fingers soft, silken feathers on his skin. Mulder closed his eyes, wanting her touch, needing it, but knowing where it was going to lead. And it wasn't time yet. Scully watched, amazed, as Mulder's nipples hardened without her touching them. Mulder's eyes slid open, lowering and finding hers and Scully gasped, seeing the arousal swimming in the dark, dilated pupils. Mulder made a sound, a deep growl from somewhere inside his body, inside his soul. His hands clenched and unclenched at his side, and Scully realized that Mulder was struggling not to touch her, struggling to retain his control, control that was hanging by a thread. She drank in his gaze, wondering. Has he always looked at me this way? Has he always wanted to? She had never felt more feminine, more desired, more loved. She pulled her hand back. The dark light behind Mulder's eyes faded a little, but not much. His breathing was shallow, strained. A brief memory of Jack Willis slid across her mind and she discarded it easily, tossing it over her mental shoulder. Mulder was breathing normally now, his hands still at his sides. Scully scooted a little closer to the edge of the bed and reached up with her arms, snaking them around his neck, urging him closer to her. She felt him through the T-shirt, brushing against her tummy, hot and hard and smooth. Her mouth searched for his and found it, his lips tugging at hers. The kiss was electric, intense, and then soft, sweet, and then hot and passionate, over and over again. Scully let her legs slide out from under her and she urged him lower, down to the bed, on top of her. He came willingly, using his arms to keep the bulk of his weight off her. His maleness nestled between her thighs, pushing against her center through the panties. They broke the second kiss, both of them breathing heavily, struggling for air. "Dangerous," Mulder rasped. "Yes," Scully said softly. "Arousing." "Tempting." "I..." She stopped, not sure if she could say the words that were on her lips. "I...want..." He silenced her with another kiss before she could finish the thought. His mind was whirling, a thousand images spinning across his consciousness, pictures of he and Scully combined in dozens of different ways, erotic visions made more powerful by the fact that the woman he was fantasizing about wasn't a collection of glowing phosphor dots on a glass tube, but a living, breathing creature moving slowly and sensuously beneath him, a woman he had come to know and love for four very long years. Four years of memories, cases, tragedies, triumphs, moments shared and glances exchanged. Four years of a yearning he almost hadn't known was there until he'd realized she was gone. And the return of them, stronger than ever, the day she'd regained consciousness. And then those thoughts vanished quietly. There was only this woman, Scully, this room, this perfect moment in time. She moved, using her shoulder and arm to spin him over onto his back, moving with him, not breaking the contact. They ended up with Scully on top of him, her weight warm and comfortable on his waist, the palms of her hands next to his ears, her mouth against his, her hair tickling his face. Red, like the fires of hell. Fire. In his belly; his groin. Flames licking at him, slowly building, getting stronger, hotter, hungrier. A fire needs fuel to burn and the fuel for this blaze was on top of him, her mouth moving slowly, wetly against his. He felt the teasing tickle of her tongue in his mouth and gasped around it, thrilling as she explored. He chased it with his own, his hands coming up from his sides, gliding up the smooth, sleek length of her thighs, sliding under the hem of her shirt and finally coming to a rest against the soft swell of her buttocks. Scully pushed back against his hands. Mulder moved them up, and then down, his fingers sliding beneath the elastic waistband, easing them down her hips. Scully's mouth opened against his, her breath hot against his skin. "Mulder..." she whispered. "Scully..." he replied, lifting his head to recapture her mouth. And then they both knew. It was going to happen. Scully felt a small resistance, a small niggling voice at the back of her head, her sensible nature trying one last-ditch effort to control this, to control her runaway emotions. She told the voice to shut up, reaching back with her hands. She grabbed his wrists and pushed, forcing his hands under her ass. She felt one of his fingers sliding through her soaked trench and she gasped. It's going to happen, she thought. Finally. And of course, that was exactly when the phone rang. "Ignore it," she mumbled against his mouth. "Yeah," he gasped, not wanting to break this kiss, his mouth searching frantically for hers. The phone rang eleven times and then fell silent. Ten seconds later, it began again. "Shit!" Mulder said, reaching for it. Scully rolled off him, throwing a forearm across her forehead. "WHAT?" Mulder almost shouted into the phone. "Agent Mulder?" Skinner. Oh, shit! Mulder sat up. "Sir?" "I understand you and Agent Scully are in San Diego?" "Yes, sir." "Care to fill me in on the developments?" Mulder glanced over his shoulder at Scully, shrugging. "Of course, sir." He began to talk, taking Skinner back to his original meeting with Maggie King. Scully sighed and stood, pacing the corridor between the bed and the window. She felt hot, sticky...aroused. The feeling would not go away. She knew he was on the phone with Skinner, that he was working, that she shouldn't be thinking about the strong line of his shoulders, the delicious cleft between his cheeks, the way his hair rested against the nape of his neck. Sighing, she turned and moved towards the bathroom. Cold shower, she thought. Can't hurt. *** Apartment of Commander Matthew Stone Fairfax, Virginia Maggie used the key Matt had left her and was not at all surprised to see that it still worked. She pushed the door open and entered, shutting it quickly behind her. "Hello?" she called, wondering if he was living with someone these days. She felt stupid for speaking to what she knew was an empty apartment. Stone wasn't the type to settle down, whispered conversations over sweaty, damp pillows notwithstanding. She moved through the apartment quickly, reacquainting herself with the layout. Two bedrooms, the smaller one converted to a makeshift office. A full-sized kitchen that was immaculate. She opened the refrigerator and saw what she expected: A twelve-pack of beer with one corner torn open, three bottles missing, a butter dish with half a stick and two boxes of what appeared to be take-out Chinese. The office, she thought. That was the place to start. The office looked just as she remembered it. Two inexpensive folding tables pushed together to make an "L". Two computers sat on one of them, cables trailing out the back to a rack of peripherals, including a laser printer and modem. The usual desk stuff on the other: blotter, in-and-out boxes, a coffee can pressed into service a pen and pencil cup. Underneath the `desk' portion, a two-drawer file cabinet, locked. She studied it for a moment and then lifted the blotter on top of the desk. A small gold key winked at her and she smiled. It didn't fit. On the desk, sitting on the corner, was what looked like a cigar humidor. She lifted it. Paper clips, a mechanical pencil, rubber bands, and another, smaller locking box. The key fit that box. She opened it, and found a larger silver key. That fit. She opened the filing cabinet and started rifling through the contents. Bills, tax returns, copies of his OER's, car insurance, instructions for various electronic components that he'd purchased over the years. A file towards the back caught her eye. PHOTOS, it was labeled. She pulled it and opened it on his desk. She felt her gorge rise and wondered if she could find her way to the bathroom before she vomited again. Spread out on the desk before here were dozens of black and white glossies. Pictures of men and women having sex. The pictures were grainy, but she could make out faces. It took her a moment to realize that she was looking at still-frame captures from a videotape. The telltale streaks across the bottom of the frame where the NTSC sync track blurred the image gave it away. She realized that the pictures had been taken in Stone's bedroom, which was odd considering that none of the men in the pictures was Matt. She lifted one and held it up. Maggie felt the blood draining from her face. The picture in her hand was of a slight Hispanic looking woman and a man. A man Maggie recognized. Admiral Jake Karn, Commander, Naval Investigative Service. She dropped it as if it burned, and reached for another. Different man...same woman. The Deputy Director, Naval Reactors. The second highest-ranking man in the Navy's nuclear program was on the bed, engaging in a sex act that Maggie had only heard about. Quickly shuffling through the rest of the pictures, Maggie felt faint. It was the same woman over and over again, but a different man every time. Deputy Chief of Naval Operations for Plans and Policy in one. Deputy Chief, Naval Intelligence in another. Two were senators, one long since retired but in a lucrative legal practice in Chicago. The other sat on the Armed Services Appropriation Committee. There was only one reason for the existence of these pictures. Blackmail. Shaken, Maggie replaced all the pictures in the folder and returned it to the cabinet. There was another folder, behind the first one. PICTURES, it said. She drew that one out, dreading what she would see. The first one was of a man and a woman Maggie had never seen. The man's face was circled in red grease-pencil, with the letters "SG" written next to it. The woman's face wasn't circled, but an arrow pointed to her head. "HH," it said. Scott Graves. Heather Haynes. Maggie selected the next picture. It was as grainy as the blackmail pictures, but wasn't a video capture. It looked as if it had been taken from a great distance. It showed a man getting into a car, a car with Virginia plates. The next item in the folder was a photograph from a newspaper. The caption read, "Explosion kills Navy SEAL." It took a second for Maggie to realize that the charred wreckage of the car in the newspaper clipping was the same car in the previous photo. There were several more newspaper clippings. One was a story about a US Army Ranger shot while hunting. An unidentified man found shot to death in the same apartment as a woman he'd apparently been dating. She flipped to the next one. A man found in the parking lot of a convenience store with a broken neck. Police had no suspects. Investigation continues. A US Army Special Forces Master Sergeant found dead in his apartment of apparently natural causes. Scrawled in the margin were the words "Binary poison." A photo of another woman Maggie had never seen before. She was walking out of a government building, her face turned towards the camera. This picture was color, and judging by the clothes the woman wore, it had been taken recently. "DS" was written along the edge of the photo. This picture was different. It was in vivid, perfect color, and Maggie thought she had never seen a more vivid shade of red before. The woman's hair looked like fire, she thought. She scanned through the rest of the pictures. She found what she was looking for towards the end. A man walking through an airport, the picture taken from an oblique angle. The man was older, in his late 40's, but he was still in shape. The tight shirt he wore displayed his muscles; he was wearing sunglasses, carrying a ballistic nylon computer case in one hand and what appeared to be a ticket in the other. "Danny" was written in small letters across the bottom. She turned the photo over. There was a stick-on label, about three inches by five, affixed to the back. Someone had typed all the information Maggie could ever want on the label. "D. Graves, Los Angeles International Airport, April 12, 1997." She continued to read. "Returning from Little Creek, Virginia, May 21, 1995." She remembered. Tony Calandra. The next picture was of the same man, wearing different clothes, exiting an expensive-looking sports car. Maggie flipped it over. "Danny Graves, Dunwoody Georgia. October 9, 1995." Gerald Smith, Maggie thought. She flipped through the rest of the pictures, turning them over to read the captions. They were all here. All the murders. Every single one, some of the pictures taken before the act, some after. All showed Danny Graves arriving or departing the scene of the murder. He had known. The son-of-a-bitch had known. Maggie culled all the photos together and jammed them back into the folder. Faxing them to Agent Mulder wasn't going to do. She'd have to take more drastic steps. She turned to leave before realizing that she hadn't checked the bottom drawer. Sighing, she turned back and pulled it open. The first folder caught her eye. JOVIAL CLOWN, it said. She opened and read the first page of the after action report. She felt her gorge rising again and fought it down. Interesting, but had little to do with the case. Mulder already had most of this information. She decided to send it anyway, and turned her attention back to the drawer. The next folder was thick. It was actually a Pendaflex folder that had several other manila folders inside of it. The little tab on the Pendaflex said, simply, LIBERTY BELL. Maggie opened it and began to read. Fifteen seconds later she reached for a phone and dialed. The line was busy. She swore. He'd only given her the direct-dial number for his hotel room. Mulder needed this information, and he needed it now. Maggie stood and started pacing, biting her thumbnail, thinking. It was way too valuable to send overnight mail. Even via officer courier was risky, if the contents of the file were to be believed. Maggie snapped her fingers and stopped. Perfect, she thought. She returned to the phone and lifted it, closing her eyes as she tried to remember the number. "NIS Duty Desk, Duty Officer speaking, sir," the voice answered. Maggie opened the LIBERTY BELL folder and ran her fingers down a column of numbers and words. "I have a FLASH for TOPCOAT," she said, using CINCNIS's code name. "Stand by one," the voice said quickly. There was a series of clicks and pops, and then, distantly, the voice of CINCNIS. "Karn." "Admiral, this Commander Maggie King, BUPERS," she said. "Yes?" Karn was obviously confused. It was late at night, and the Ops center had told him he had a FLASH message coming through from one of his agents in the field. He hadn't been expecting another call from the King woman. "What can I do for you, Commander?" "I have some information I need to get to our mutual friend in San Diego," she said carefully, aware that they were on an open line. "Which friend?" "Not the hound," she said quickly. "Understood. State nature of information." "Images. Files. Extremely sensitive." "Understood. Get out to Pax, report to the AOD. I'll whistle you up some transportation." He paused. "Commander, if you're working for that...other party, you realize that your career is over." "Understood, sir." "And that you will spend the rest of your natural life in Portsmouth." The Navy Detention Center was located in Portsmouth. "Aye, aye, sir." "Very well. Pax in sixty minutes." Maggie hung up the phone and gathered everything together, heading for the door. San Diego would be nice, she thought. *** Home of Admiral Jake Karn, CINCNIS Jake Karn looked at the cellphone and frowned. Things were getting sticky and fast. He reached for the scrambled, secure phone on the corner of his desk and dialed. "Tom? Jake. I need an emergency transport, and a VC-20 ain't gonna do it. What do have in the available inventory that's supersonic?" He paused. "Got any Phantoms? Perfect. Whistle me up a pilot, and arrange for a refueling aloft. I need someone to get to San Diego as quickly as possible." Another pause. "Thanks, Tom. She'll be reporting in a little under an hour." *** Naval Air Station Paxtuent River Paxtuent River, Maryland Even driving like a madwoman, Maggie made it in just over an hour. She flashed her ID to the guard at the gate and drove towards the Flight Ops building. The Areodome Officer of the Day (AOD) was waiting for her, holding a Nomex flight suit in his hands. "Here," he said, handing it to her. "I'll have your car parked. It's waiting for you." He pointed to a navy-blue Ford step van idling by the front door to Flight Ops. Maggie ran to the van. The moment she shut the door, the driver hit the gas. The F4 was idling on the threshold, the canopy up. The pilot glanced at her curiously as she stepped into the flight suit. Zipping up, Maggie raced towards the plane, taking the proffered flight helmet from the ground crewman. She scampered up the ladder and settled into the rear seat, tugging the helmet over her head as the crewman applied the six-point restraint harness. He quickly pointed out the eject handles and flight controls. Maggie nodded as if she understood but his voice was muddled blur over the loud whine of the engines. The crewman vanished, and a moment later the ladder vanished, followed by the canopy slowly descending and then locking into place. "Hold on, Ma'am," the pilot said over the intercom. "We're next." Maggie felt the plane moving, and then a moment later she gasped as the pilot applied maximum military power in preparation for take off. As the plane broke the grip of gravity and leapt into the air, a single thought kept running through Commander Maggie King's mind. What am I getting into? ---------------------------------------------------- END CHAPTER 17 CONTENT NOTES : I do not personally feel that this is a 'slash' story, but then again, I could be wrong. The ongoing discussion, debate, argument...whatever you want to call it, regarding what constitutes slash and whether content warnings are needed or not bored me at first, until a reader pointed out that in a chapter of "Snapshot" I had depicted a sexual act that they found offensive. Now, I am totally non-judgemental about things like that; as long as the farm animal is of legal age and no alcohol or other mind-altering drugs are involved, I say go for it. Whatever turns your screws, as the Navy pukes I interviewed for this story say. ("Puke" is a term of affection, by the way.) The absolute LAST thing that I want to do is offend ANY of my long-time, loyal readers, or put off any potential new readers. Thusly, any story or story fragment that I write that even hints at sexual content will have the warning (or a similar one) you saw at the top of this chapter, as well as this part: The good stuff, as a reader once called it. In other words, the next paragraph is going to tell you EXACTLY what happens in this story, so if that kind of things turns you off, you can skip it. I will also have a service whereby readers that are offended by such material can request a 'synopsis' via email so that they will not miss any of the plot. LAST CHANCE...turn back now! OK...Scully and Mulder get naked, take a shower, fool around on the bed and get stopped by a phone call. The most graphic thing that happens is Mulder stands naked before Scully for her inspection after getting off the phone. Mulder is naked, Scully is wearing a T-shirt and panties. There is much emotional stuff, thoughts, things like that. Oh, and some plot. ;)