"Umbra" 25/? 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 : July 27, 1997 Archive Entry : Book I, Chapter 25 Classification : Action Adventure, MSR Rating : R (Adult Themes, Adult Language, violence) ***************: PLEASE SEE CONTENT NOTES AND CONTENT WARNINGS. Notes : None Casting : Glenne Headly, "Commander Maggie King" : Sam Neil, "Captain Ronald Ebert" : Val Kilmer, "Commander Matt Stone." : David Marshall Grant, "VC-20 Pilot" Antishipper : 6 on a scale of 1-10. Shipper : 3 on a scale of 1-10. Timeline : 4th year, prior to "Momento Mori." CONTENT : PLEASE SEE THE CONTENT NOTE AT THE END OF THIS STORY READING IT IF YOU ARE OFFENDED BY THE THREAT OF VIOLENCE OR DIRTY WORDS. Enjoy! ------ 0550 Hours Naval Air Station Miramar Approaching San Diego, California One of the nice things, Skinner thought, about flying aboard a plane normally reserved for Admirals, was all the creature comforts. The small jet-powered VC-20, (much like it's civilian counterpart the Lear Jet,) came equipped with a bathroom much larger than those found aboard commercial airliners. It wasn't as large as a bathroom at home, but it was much easier to move around in than he ever would have thought. Which was a good thing, considering what he was doing. Skinner studied his reflection in the mirror as he worked at tying his tie. Field scarf, he reminded himself. It's called a field scarf, which was strange, because no one ever wore one in `the field.' Skinner finished tying the knot and tugged against the collar button of his shirt. Looking down at the small vanity, he picked up the small plastic box that he carried in his toiletry kit wherever he went. The small gold tie-bar with the globe and anchor logo stared back at him, and he gingerly picked it up and turned it over in his hands a few time before smiling shyly at his reflection and affixing it to his tie and shirt. Blouse, he thought. Oddly enough, they call it a blouse. Skinner studied his reflection and liked what he saw. Never a particularly vain man, he would admit at times like this that he had changed little since he was a teenager, at least physically speaking. Not counting the hair, Walter, an inner voice remarked softly, wryly. Yes, yes, he was a little thin on top. Ok, bald as an egg. But his waist had gained less than an inch, and he was within fifteen pounds of the weight he'd held when he entered the Marine Corps almost thirty years ago. Thirty years later, and the uniform still fit, he thought. He wondered what his two favorite agents were going to say when they got a load of him. It wasn't something that was commonly known, but after he'd been medically discharged from the Marine Corps as a result of wounds suffered in battle, he'd spent the next year or two recovering physically. Then it was back to school, and then graduate school, and then the FBI. Two years after joining the FBI, he'd decided that he missed the corps, and he'd approached a recruiter about possibly enlisting again in the reserves. The recruiter had taken one look at Skinner's resume, and the fact that he'd honorably served before, and been wounded in battle, and had decided to talk to his commanding officer about waiving some of the medical regulations. Skinner had never had the suspicion confirmed, but he had always thought that some member of the Guardians had seen fit to make sure that he was kept happy, and the offer of re-enlistment was accepted, and then sweetened. We have enough grunts, he was told. What we need are officers, officers that have heard shots fired in anger, officers that know how to lead from the front. And so, Walter S. Skinner had been commissioned as a first lieutenant in the Marine Corps. After attending Platoon Leader's course at Quantico, he was immediately transferred to Marine Corps Intelligence, where he had spent his one weekend a month and two weeks every summer for the last twenty-two years, rising in that time to the rank of Lieutenant Colonel. He had served the country, the Corps and the Guardians well from his post as an analyst and translator/interrogator. The silver oak leaves of his rank glittered from his collar points, and Walter Skinner made one last check of his uniform before exiting the bathroom. "How much longer?" he called forward. The US Navy pilot, a Lieutenant, glanced back and, seeing Skinner in uniform, gulped. "Uh, about fifteen minutes, sir," he said. "Very well," Skinner said, smiling at the ease at which he fell back into what he liked to call "Command Mode." Returning to his seat, Skinner considered what he'd been told by another member of the Guardians, a man he had never met, a man that seemed to have a deeply vested interest in Fox Mulder and Dana Scully. It was always the same: A call, usually early in the evening, at his desk or at his townhouse. The code phrase employed to ensure identification, and then an update of what Skinner's two favorite agents were up to. The report that they had become lovers was not unexpected nor unwelcome, but it was slightly...surprising. He wasn't sure if he was disappointed or relieved. On the one hand, he had known years ago how Scully and Mulder felt for each other, even if they hadn't. On the other, unless they were both very, very careful, the slightest indiscretion could ruin otherwise promising careers. Not to mention The Quest. Skinner had begun to call Mulder's never-ending search for the Truth "The Quest" long before Scully or Mulder himself had articulated it as such. And Skinner knew, probably better than Mulder did, how very, very important that search was. But now...Skinner sighed. The fact that Scully and Mulder had become lovers was not the only complicating factor in the unique relationship the three of them shared. He, nominally their boss, was going to have to look the other way when it came to the relationship, and, it seemed, a lot more now that Commander Stone had revealed him as a Guardian. He was still wondering why, exactly, Stone had done that when he felt the squeal of the rubber tires against the tarmac. The plane taxied quickly to the transient ramp. Gathering his bags and briefcase, Skinner thanked the pilot and exited the plane. He made his way to the Base Transportation Office and secured a motor pool quickly. His USMC ID made it clear to the Bo'sun's mate behind the counter that he was not to be trifled with; it carried an AAAAA peacetime priority. Only General Officers and Colonels in the Intelligence directorates of the three other branches of the service had a higher priority, and Skinner was glad that he got a chance to use it. He requested a map from the Bo'sun's mate and was immediately provided one. He located Dana Point on the map and turned the car north, racing to join Scully and Mulder, Stone, Ebert and King. **** 5774 Pacifica Rim Drive (Home of Commander Matthew Stone) Dana Point, California 0709 Hours PST Skinner parked the motor pool car in Stone's driveway and quickly killed the engine. He spotted the forest-green BMW roadster parked next to the Jeep CJ-7 and wondered who was driving what. Deciding that he probably didn't want to know, not really, he got out of his car and quickly made his way up the walk to the front door. It almost two minutes of knocking and pausing and then knocking again before the door was answered... By a very startled Commander Matthew Stone, who was wearing boxers and not much else. The naval officer looked hung over; hell, Skinner thought, he looks like something the cat dragged in! And out and in again! Twice! Stone was in the middle of preparing to berate whomever it was that had woken him from what little sleep he'd gotten that night when he took in the uniform, the silver oak leaves, and lastly, the face of the man inhabiting the uniform. "Skinner!" he said. "Is that normally how you greet officers of the Marine Corps, Commander?" Skinner asked dryly. Stone blinked, and then seemed to understand that this was not some sort of nightmare that was going to go away. He snapped to a reasonable semblance of attention and was about to salute when Skinner interrupted him. "As you were. Go put some clothes on." Stone turned to leave, and Skinner called out, "Wait!" "Sir?" "Scully. Mulder. Where are they?" A look Skinner couldn't place or articulate crossed Stone's face. "There," Stone pointed. "First door on the right." Skinner frowned, wondering if he was understanding Stone right. He had little time to pursue the matter, because Stone had vanished into the bowels of the house. Sighing deeply, hands on hips, Skinner realized that he had to do this. If only to re-establish command of the situation; his Guardian contact had told him some of the antics that Special Agent Dana Scully had been up to, and catching her in bed with Mulder would probably help knock her down a notch or two. He walked to the bedroom and, without knocking, opened the door. The sight that greeted him was not what he had been expecting. Although, privately, if pressed, Skinner would admit that he hadn't known exactly what to expect. But certainly not this. Scully, wearing what appeared to be a pair of black men's silk boxers and a Marine Barracks, Quantico T-shirt, was curled against her partner, her arm thrown across his chest, her leg casually tossed over his hip. Mulder, for his part, was wearing a pair of royal blue silk boxers, his arm curled around her back, cupping one shoulder, the other on her right forearm, holding her gently against him as they both slept. Skinner felt his jaw tightening; he hated having to do what he was about to. He had to admit that they looked very good together, entwined like that. Like it was...right, somehow. Expected. Destined. Shaking his head sharply from side-to-side to clear the traitorous thoughts, Skinner said softly, "Scully. Mulder." They both stirred in their sleep, but neither woke. "Scully! Mulder!" he said, a little more loudly this time. Scully was the first to realize that she and Mulder were not alone in the room. Moving faster than Skinner had ever seen her, than he had ever seen anyone move, she was off the bed, hidden behind it, and then she was coming up, her duty-issue SIG in her hand, the barrel centering on his chest in the space it took for Skinner to blink. "Scully!" he shouted, his hands coming up. "It's me! Walter!" Scully tossed some sleep-tousled hair out of her eyes and studied the man standing in the doorway to the room. It looked like Skinner, her sleep-addled brain announced, but what the hell was he doing in the uniform of a Colonel of Marines? "Sir?" she asked. "Yes, Scully. It's me. You can put the gun down now." Scully looked at her hands, the hands wrapped securely around the butt and frame of her weapon; her expression seemed to communicate puzzlement, as if she wasn't aware of how the gun had come to be in her hands. "Sorry, sir," she said, dropping the weapon and thumbing the safety on quickly. "It's been a strange few days." "So I have heard," Skinner allowed. Scully nodded, thinking to herself that now there was another issue to discuss with her superior. How, exactly, had he known about the developments regarding Mulder? "Mulder!" she called sharply. Mulder groaned, but didn't move. "He gets this way," Scully explained. "He's such an insomniac, that when he finally does fall asleep, it's a bear to wake him up." Skinner refrained from asking her how she knew this, considering that his Guardian contact had informed him that the relationship between them had only deepened sometime in the last few days. Scully got up on the bed and knee-walked over to her partner. Lover, Skinner reminded himself. Her lover. "Mulder," she said softly, reaching out a hand to his shoulder and shaking it gently. "Time to wake up." "mmmmph," Mulder moaned, and turned towards her, his arms coming out in his sleep to find her. His strength was no match for hers, and he pulled her down against him. "Mmmoring," he said softly, his lips moving to find hers. Skinner glanced out the window, trying not to look. "Mulder!" Scully said harshly. "Whassamatter?" he asked sleepily. "No goo-morning kiss?" "Mul-der!" Mulder was almost fully awake now. "What, don't you love me anymore?" he teased. When Scully spoke, her voice was clipped, hard, each word a separate sentence. "We. Are. Not. Alone." "I've been trying to tell you that for years-" Mulder said, releasing her and swinging his feet out of bed. It was at that moment that he caught sight of Lieutenant Colonel Walter S. Skinner, USMC, FBI, standing in the bedroom with a VERY exasperated expression on his face. "Sir!" Mulder said, standing. "Good morning, Special Agent Mulder," Skinner said evenly. "Good morning," Mulder replied, mostly because he couldn't think of anything else to say. "How was your flight, sir?" "Uneventful," Skinner said through suddenly-gritted teeth. "Do you think that you and Scully can managed to get dressed and meet me in the living room with the rest of your rag-tag band of amateur commandos?" "Uh..yes, sir," Mulder mumbled. "Right away, sir." Skinner turned on his heel and left without another word, shutting the door behind him. Mulder sighed. "Curiouser and Curiouser ," he said softly. "Tell me about it," Scully replied, just as softly. "Did you know he was a Marine officer?" "I had no idea," Mulder admitted. "Although it does make sense." Scully nodded, silently agreeing. It did make a whole bunch of sense, in a weird, Skinner way. They dressed quickly in yesterday's unwashed clothes. Scully shuddered as she realized that she was putting on the previous day's underwear. That was one of the first things that was going to have to be addressed : Clothing. The partners entered the living room to find Stone, King, Ebert and Skinner waiting for them. "Sleep well?" Stone asked, a nasty smile on his face. Scully's return smile was saccharine. "Very well, thank you." Mulder glanced between them, wondering what had gone on last night. "Good morning, troops," Skinner said, an uncharacteristic smile on his face. "As of this moment, this operations is no longer an FBI or US Navy matter." He paused for effect, and then added, "Never fear, the MARINES ARE HERE!" There was a moment of stunned silence, and then a moment of nervous laughter. "Oh, lighten up," Skinner teased. "I was kidding." "Sir, if I may," Scully said gently, "none of us are particularly in the mood for...frivolity. It's Friday morning, and we have just over forty-eight hours to find Graves, the CBX, and the delivery system." Skinner nodded, returning to his usual countenance of gruff, distant leader. "Very well, Agent Scully. Perhaps you wouldn't mind briefing me on the state of your...investigation." His pause before the final word told Scully more than he'd intended. Somehow, word of her...antics had gotten back to him. She felt her own jaw settling, knowing that no matter what he said to her, she would never apologize or attempt to explain what had gone on. If he didn't understand, she reasoned, he never would, no matter what she said or did. "Before that," Mulder interjected, "I'd like some information from you, sir." "I'm sure you would, Agent Mulder, but as Agent Scully has just so adroitly pointed out, time is the one thing we do not have." Mulder crossed his arms. "Well, we'll just have to make time, sir, because Scully isn't going to tell you jack shit until I've satisfied myself on a few issues." Skinner turned to Scully. "Is that so, Agent Scully?" He almost added, `letting your partner speak for you now?,' but didn't. Scully stood there, silently fuming, thinking dark, evil thoughts about her partner, about her best friend, about the man she was crazy-in-love with. Once again he'd jumped the gun and put her in a position of having to choose between her job and her love for him. And as always, she knew which would win out. "Yes, sir," she said softly. "That's so." Sighing theatrically, Skinner moved to the couch. "Very well." Twisting to face Mulder, he said, "Ask away, Agent Mulder." Mulder glanced at his partner as if inviting her to begin. Scully held out her hand, as if she were showing him to his seat. "No, I insist, Mulder. This was, after all, your idea to begin with." Mulder turned to the other three people in the room. "Uh, Matt? Do you know of a good breakfast place anywhere around here?" Stone nodded, understanding at once. "Maggie, Ronald, why don't you both come with me so we can give these folks some privacy? I know a great place down by the beach. Omelets to die for." Maggie and Ronald nodded, and the trio made short work of getting ready and departing for the restaurant. Once the door closed behind them, Skinner turned back to face his most challenging agent. "Ok, Mulder...we're alone." "You make it sound so romantic," Mulder said, sitting in the chair that faced the couch. "Walter..." he started, and seeing the sudden narrowing of his superior's eyes, held up a hand. "I figure that since the rules of this particular game have changed, we can forget the normal Bureau courtesies?" Skinner thought about it for half a second and then nodded; the rules had changed. "I mean, I assume you are here as a member of the Guardians, not just as an Assistant Director of the Bureau. Am I correct in that assumption?" "Yes, yes you are," Skinner allowed. "Good," Mulder said, surprised at how smoothly he'd managed to switch into interrogation mode. After all, it was his boss of almost five years that he was busy interrogating! "Stone told us a fantastical story about the Guardians last night, Walter, but I want you to assume that Scully and I have never heard anything about it. I want you to tell us what your understanding of the organization is." Skinner was impressed; he hadn't had a chance to get Stone alone to inquire as to how much he'd told Mulder and Scully. By using this tactic, Mulder had ensured that he would learn as much as he could about the organization. Well, Skinner thought, there was a reason you call them your best pair of agents. They are good. Taking a deep breath, Skinner began to talk. "The Guardians," he started, "are a rather loosely organized group of men and women that believe that...how should I put this...? That those who run the world should not be trusted with it. That's about as concise a definition as I can give you, Mulder." "Military? Paramilitary? Political?" "No, more theoretical. The fact remains that most of the power in this world is centered around those who control the men with guns." "And women," Scully interjected. "And women," Skinner agreed, nodding. "Basically, the assumption is that the corruption of the soul that is required to achieve the kind of power that can threaten the stability of the world needs to have checks and balances. Not all the countries that have the power to end the world, by whatever means, have the same sort of...control that this country does over the actions of those that govern." Mulder nodded, accepting that statement at face value. "Who are your enemies?" he asked. Skinner shifted. He sure didn't waste any time, Skinner thought. "I assume you mean our smoking friend and his cronies?" Mulder said nothing. "You think that I should have been able to do more in your... campaign to thwart that man and his associates?" Again, Mulder said nothing. Skinner sensed the technique and fought not to smile. "Mulder, the position of the Guardians in the world power structure is tenuous at best and downright shaky at worst. We are observers, nothing more. By creating a loose association of people in semi-powerful positions, people that are career diplomats, intelligence and military officers, people that remain in place as governmental administrations come and go, we've managed to create an information network that helps prevent some of the more nasty surprises that come along." "Like Iraq attacking Kuwait?" Mulder pointed out. Skinner nodded. "That's the problem, Mulder. You can only point to the dozens of failures that make the CNN newscast. You have no ability to point to the thousands of little brushfire incidents we've managed to catch before they turned into a full- scale invasion." Mulder pursed his lips. "Don't you think that it's rather convenient that the reason for your very existence is built upon the foundation that only be being successful can you remain anonymous?" Skinner nodded. "I can see how it would be hard for you to accept." "Give me an example of...an action that the Guardians have undertaken successfully." Skinner stood and began pacing, obviously lost in though. Scully took the opportunity to lean down and whisper in her partner's ear. "Do you believe him?" Mulder just nodded. "I do," he whispered back. Skinner turned to face his two agents. "North Korea. You read about it in the papers all the time; shots fired across the demarcation line, tunnels dug by the north into the south. What you don't hear is the efforts by Guardians in the North to...stem the tide of efforts to invade the South. "You see," Skinner continued, "the fact is that if North Korea attacked the South, if they cross the DMZ with the over sixty tank battalions they have...our men, and most of the South Korean army would simply be tossed into the Sea of Japan. And there's...more." "More what?" "More about the Korean situation than is obvious to the casual observer." "Like what?" Skinner sighed. "When Truman forced the South Koreans to agree to the 1953 Paris Peace Accords, there was a secret agreement signed between the United States, South Korea and Japan. Remember, these were simpler times, when we actually thought it was possible to win a nuclear war. And this was years before China got nuclear capability. The agreement says that if the North Koreans reach a certain point on a map, a certain latitude, the US will use nuclear weapons to end the North's aggression. "So, you see, the Guardians on both sides of the DMZ realize that an invasion isn't practical. And, when they can, they communicate what they know to the other Guardians, and the word makes it to where it needs to go so that some low-level intelligence officer assigned to the ROK units on the line `finds' the tunnel or the midget submarine attempting to put North Korean operatives ashore. The system, such as it is, works." Mulder nodded again. "Now for the $64,000 question." Skinner nodded. "Yes, we have enemies. We have those amongst us that believe that the world would be better served by going to war, that they alone should decide what is best for the rest of us." Mulder pounced. "But isn't that what the Guardians are doing?" Skinner had seen it coming. "Yes, in a way. Mulder, if I'm going to have to spend the next forty-eight hours convincing you that what I'm doing is right, morally right, then you need to tell me now so I can call my wife and have her leave DC. I don't want her there on Sunday morning when this...device detonates and wipes out the leadership of this country." "You haven't evacuated her?" Scully asked. Skinner turned to her. "No, Agent Scully, I have not." "Answer the question," Mulder said softly. "Answer me this question, and I will drop the entire matter for the time being." Skinner faced his most challenging agent. "Yes, Mulder. Yes to all of it. The smoker you hate so much is part of the group that opposes us. They have no name; we refer to them simply as `Them' or `They,' depending on the context." "And your group's efforts have been unable to contain him?" Skinner said nothing for a long moment. "It's not as simple as that," he finally said. "Isn't it?" "No, Mulder, it isn't. It's much more complicated." "Give me the Reader's Digest condensed version." Skinner sighed. "Very well, Agent Mulder...you are beginning to meddle in affairs that don't concern you-" Mulder stood, his eyes on fire. "Don't concern me? DON'T CONCERN ME? Listen to me, you son of a BITCH! Nothing concerns me MORE than the actions of this...cabal of...whatever the hell they are! Do you understand? NOTHING!" Skinner withstood Mulder's tirade with a blank, stony face, saying nothing. "Mulder...I can say now, without reservation, that the group that opposes the Guardians had nothing to do with your sister's disappearance." "How can you be sure?" Mulder asked. "I am," Skinner said flatly. "I just am." Mulder returned to his seat. "I don't know if I can believe you, Walter." "Look, Mulder...Fox...just as I belong to the FBI and the Guardians, there are those that belong to other organizations, other... groups...as well as belonging to them." He paused, and then added, "The smoker is one of them. He moves in...several circles. It's never as easy as `us versus them.' It never has." "So you're saying that the group...one of the groups...had nothing to do with Samantha. But the Smoker might have." Skinner said nothing. "He's very...obtuse on that matter, Agent Mulder." "Oh, I would imagine so," Mulder said dryly. "I would imagine so." "What you have to understand...what would help you understand, is that there are members inside the Guardians that don't believe in everything the group stands for, that don't believe in everything we are supposed to believe; the think that some conflict is good, that some conflict is cleansing. It helps in the process of rebirth. And just as there are those that think this way inside the Guardians, there are those that feel the same way about the other organizations, the other groups. And...what this translates to is that there are unofficial channels between the groups themselves. Channels that are kept purposely open so that when...duties, operations, interests...spheres of influence overlap, that communication can exist between the groups. Messages can be sent and received." "What kind of messages?" Mulder asked, but Scully already knew. "Me, for one," she said softly. Skinner nodded at her, too tired to answer. "What?" "My...disappearance. My...abduction." "What?" Mulder asked. "She's right." "What is she right about?" "Scully was...returned by the Smoker." Mulder was out of his seat again, moving towards Skinner, death in his eyes. "Hold it!" Skinner said, holding up a hand. "I never said the Smoker took Scully. Truth is...I don't know for sure who took her, or why, or where she was kept." "What do you know then?" Mulder demanded. Skinner's face twisted into half a smile and half a grimace. "I know," he said softly, quietly, "that I told the Smoker that keeping Scully away from you was turning you into a dangerous instrument. That if Scully were to vanish forever that there would be no way that I could control you, no way of preventing you from going all the way. From doing whatever it took to destroy them. All of them." Scully felt the hot sting of tears behind her eyes and struggled to control herself. "I did what was necessary to get her back." He stopped and then said each word, slowly, carefully. "I. Got. Her. Back. For. You." "What do you mean, `for me'?" Mulder asked. "I wont' bother answering that," Skinner said dismissivly. "Seeing you two curled up in each other's arms this morning more than answers that particular question." Scully walked over to Skinner, her approach fearful, hesitant. Slowly, she reached up a hand to stroke his face. Leaning up on her toes, she kissed him softly on the cheek. "Thank you," she said softly. "Thank you for...bringing me back. Back to...him." "Agent Scully..." Skinner sighed. "Just say `You're welcome'," Scully said. "You're welcome," Skinner said. "Although I don't necessarily agree with the fact that you brought me back for him," she said. "No, of course not," Skinner amended. "I brought you back because it was the right thing to do. Controlling Mulder was just a side benefit." "Wait a minute...controlling me?" Mulder asked. "Yes, Mulder...controlling you," Scully said, turning to face her partner. "Ever hear the parable about the two bulls?" "No." Skinner laughed. He'd heard it. "Two bulls, a papa bull and a sonny bull are sitting on a bluff overlooking a meadow full of cows. `Let's run down there and fuck one of those cows!' the son says. `No, son, let's down there and fuck `em all.'" Mulder frowned. "I don't get it." "Mulder," Scully said, love in her voice, "You're like the young bull. You only care about what's right in front of you. You care about with an intensity that's...scary. Passionate. It's one of the things I love about you. But the fact remains that you give very little thought to the big picture, the end result. You think you can just go through the members of what you call the Consortium one by one, chewing each one up and spitting him out before moving onto the next one. You have to learn to slow down, think about the whole thing, the Big Picture...and make your plans accordingly. Only then can you fuck all of them." Scully's words stung, mostly because Mulder knew she was right. "Don't you see?" she added. "That's Graves' advantage. He's waited almost twenty years to pull this operation off. He's carefully cultivated his operatives, made sure through whatever means he has at his disposal that they are selected for and assigned to sensitive positions, that they're all in place when he needs them." Scully paused. "We have to do the same thing. Once this operation is over...we need to take a step back and look at the Big Picture. With Walter's help...with the Guardian's help... we can finally get enough pieces of the puzzle, make our plans, and bring these bastards down once and for all." Mulder nodded. It made sense. And then he realized something, a thought that had never occurred to him, a thought that was so foreign, so alien to his way of thinking that it made his heart physically skip a beat. I'm not alone, he thought. I have Scully. Now I have Skinner. I have the Guys at the Gunmen. I've done it; I've created a team. "Just answer me one last question," Mulder pleaded. "If I can, I will," Skinner said. "Do you have any idea of what happened to my sister?" Skinner didn't hesitate. "None." "Do you think....she's alive?" Skinner knew he was on dangerous ground. "To be honest, Mulder...I don't think it's likely...but I do think it's possible." "Do you think the Smoker knows?" "If anyone does...he does." "Is the Smoker involved with Graves?" "No." Skinner paused. "He's actually working with us on this one." "WHAT?" "His group...one of the groups he belongs to...is also concerned about Graves. They are also looking for him, looking to stop this little party before it starts." "Whatever for?" Mulder asked. "Power," Scully answered. Skinner nodded; she understood. "I don't-" "Don't you see, Mulder? The consortium, or whatever you're calling it this week...they depend on the current power structure remaining intact. They derive their power through association with those that are elected and appointed into it. If the current government goes away...they'd have to start over again. From scratch." Mulder sighed. "Great. I have the chance to bring these assholes down once and for all, and I have to help keep them in power!" Skinner nodded wisely. "Now you are beginning to see the contradictions of being a member of the Guardians. There is a definite right and wrong, Mulder. But there are also...other questions, other...issues that need to be addressed whenever you make a decision." "You make it sound as if I'm a Guardian." Skinner paused, a smile on his face. "You are." "Excuse me?" Mulder asked. "Oh, I could say something trite and empty about how you'll probably be asked to join once this mess is over, but that would be a lie." "A lie?" Mulder asked, fear in his voice. "A lie?" Scully echoed. "Yes, Mulder, Scully...a lie. You see, there is more than one code phrase. And not all Guardians are even aware they are one." "What-" Scully started. "Oh no..." Mulder moaned. "No, no, no, NO!" "Yes," Skinner said softly. "What?" Scully asked her partner. "Don't you see? My therapy! Your disappearance!" "I still don't-" Scully started to say. And then Skinner spoke. "The art of putting the right men in the right places is first in the science of government," he said softly. And, in unison, Scully and Mulder both answered. "But that of finding places for the discontented is the most difficult." "Oh my-" Scully started. "God." Mulder finished. "Post-hypnotic suggestions," Skinner confirmed. "How long have you-" Scully asked. "How did you-" Mulder asked at the same time. "Is it really important?" Skinner asked. Scully began pacing. "This changes everything..." she started. "Everything! Do you understand? EVERYTHING!" "No," Skinner said softly. "It doesn't." "How COULD you?" she demanded. "How long have you known?" "About you, Scully? Since you were returned." "How about me?" Mulder asked. "Since I became your boss." "Why...now?" Mulder finally asked. "Because it's time, Mulder. It's time for you to stop running around the country investigating crop circles and devil worship and start doing what you were meant to do. What you have been destined to do." "And that is...?" "You know. You don't know you know...but you do." "I feel like the last three years have been a lie," Scully said. "No!" Skinner said. "There has been no attempt to...post any suggestions inside you that would cause you two to do anything that you wouldn't normally do. All that was done...all that was done was... you were...challenged. You were...investigated, I guess. You were probed to see if you were made of the stuff that the Guardians need." "Wait a minute!" Scully said. "Are you saying that the Guardians had something to do with my...my..." "No. Nothing. We had a lot to do with your return, though, and when the Smoker gave you back to us, we took another day or two to find out...to do the work. Then you were returned." "This is insane," Scully said. "You're...screwing with people's lives...with their minds!" "As I said," Skinner patiently pointed out, "...all that happened was that the code phrase was implanted in your subconscious. That when someone said the first part of the phrase, you would respond with the second. That you would realize that I was telling the truth. That's all that happened." Skinner turned to face Mulder. "And you'll be happy to know that we discovered that Scully had been sent to spy on you, but it took her all of about ten minutes to discard that mission and come over to your side." "What-?" Mulder asked. Skinner turned to face Scully. "You want to tell him?" "Tell him what?" "I guess you haven't realized it yourself, then," Skinner said softly. "Realized what?" Skinner laughed. "Under hypnosis...Scully admitted to falling in love with you practically the moment she met you." Scully blushed deeply. "I really don't think that this is-" "No, no," Mulder interrupted. "Tell me more." Skinner frowned. "Don't be flattered, Mulder. You revealed the same thing, that you had fallen for her practically the moment she walked into your office." Now it was Mulder's turn to blush. "I see," Scully said. "Don't you two see what this means? You are destined to be together. As man and woman, as partners, as friends, hell...one day, I'm sure, as husband and wife. And the Guardians saw the potential in the both of you. They saw that, together, you would be the most valuable, most...dedicated agents we could ever hope for." Skinner held out his hands. "Join us. Part of the deal is that you have to accept of your own free will. You've said the implanted phrase. You know that I'm telling the truth. Join us." Scully turned to Mulder, shooting him a warning look. "We need to think about it," she said. "I see," Skinner replied, dropping his arms. "When this is all over," Scully promised, "We'll talk about it. But we have to get through the next forty-eight hours alive and intact. Once that's over...we'll see." Mulder nodded, agreeing with his partner. "We'll see," he said. "Very well," Skinner allowed. "Now...what say we get the hell out of here, find the rest of our team and come up with a plan of action." "We're going to need all the help we can get," Mulder said. "What-?" Scully started to ask. "Last night...the info Frohickie gave us. I've narrowed the potential locations of the CBX down to three. Pave Creek, Montana; Lindsborg, Kansas; and Jacksonville, Florida." "There's no way we can cover all three in 48 hours!" Scully argued. "Yes," Mulder said. "We can. But we'll have to split up." He hesitated. "I don't trust Stone or Ebert," he said to Skinner. "I think we should each take one. I'll take Stone, you take King, and Skinner and Ebert will be the third team." "No," Scully said softly. "Two women...I hate to admit it, but... and King's not trained as an agent. If it were two female FBI agents, we might stand a chance..." "Ok, I'll take King, you take Ebert, and Stone and Skinner can..." "No," Scully said softly again, seeing the look on Skinner's face. "There's only one chance to do this the right way, Mulder. You and King. Skinner and Ebert. Me and Stone." "No. No way," Mulder said. "Yes. Yes way." "Why?" "Because when you said for Skinner to go with Stone...I saw the look on his face. And there's no way I can let you and Stone go out together. I'm the only one that can handle him." She paused. "I've proven that. Twice." Skinner spoke, his Command Voice coming through. "Ok, it's settled. Scully and Stone will go to Montana. Mulder and King will go to Lindsborg. Ebert and I will go to Jax." Mulder glanced at his partner. "Are you sure, Scully?" "As sure as I am that I love you." --------------------------------------- END CHAPTER 25 Content Note: Bad language.