----- Fox the Fugitive by Karoshi12 -----

Winner of the Fluffy Trophy 1999 as Best Fanfic
Archived with author consent c/o "The City of Stars"
(http://digilander.iol.it/xbellatrix/) by Melody Morgan Carter
(xmcarter@libero.it)

Title: Fox the Fugitive
Author: Karoshi12
E-mail: karoshi12@email.com
Disclaimer: All X-Files characters belong to Chris Carter, 1013 and Fox
Network. The creation of this fiction is a result of the f act that I have
way too much time on my hands on a Saturday night. No profit will be earned
as a result of this work (like that needed to be said).
Classification: Vignette/Angst
Warnings: First attempt at fan fiction, that should be warning enough.
Spoilers: Slight reference to The Pusher.
Summary: Mulder, betrayed by those closest to him, attempts to disappear and
begin a new life. How does he deal with the loss the only life he ever knew?
Can he leave his search for the truth behind?
Rating: R (mostly language)

**PART 1**

It was happening again, he kept losing focus, having difficulty remembering
where he was and what was expected of him. He shook his head slightly,
hoping it would clear. Damn, who could blame him, seven weeks on this last
case, seven weeks of minimum eighteen hour workdays and the little bit of
time reserved for sleep had brought him, as usual, no comfort. Wasn't a
man's mind entitled to become a bit foggy about a few details after such an
experience?
He was tired, but hell, he should be tired. Sneaking a peek over at Scully's
desk he found her watching him again. She looked down quickly when she saw
she had been caught. Why does she keep looking at me like I'm, I'm.....deep
breath Mulder, just calm down, finish up the paperwork on this one and head
home, home to your dark, quiet apartment. Home where, unless someone is
trying to kill you, people leave you alone. Forcing his shoulders back,
fingers resting on the keyboard, he glared at the report on the screen.
Let's go Mulder, keep your head down, don't say anything, finish the report,
get it to Skinner and go home.
Dana Scully, hoping Mulder wouldn't notice, studied him. This last case had
been rough, a devil-worshipping serial killer. When all was said and done,
nine people had died including a detective who had been assigned to assist
them. Strange, this was the first case in a long time where Mulder actually
came out uninjured. Throughout the horror he had pushed almost everyone
away, yes, he had definitely earned his "Spooky" name on this last one.
While cops with 30 years on the job broke down like babies when confronted
with the horror of those crime scenes, Mulder stood calm. He walked among
the carnage examining every detail, inhaling every scent, never betraying
any emotion to those around him. He had done an amazing job but Mulder,
being Mulder, felt that he had taken too long, seven weeks was inexcusable
in his mind and people had died because of his inability to put it together
sooner. Yes, Mulder may have escaped this last case physically unharmed but
emotionally, well that was another story. He looked like crap, dark circles
under his eyes, shoulders slumped and strangest of all, nervous and, dare
she say it, paranoid, well more paranoid than usual. He hadn't spoken a word
in two hours, just kept typing away at the report, driving himself to get it
done. He was obviously absorbed in his work yet there was something about
the set of his shoulders that didn't seem right to her, what was going
through that Mulder brain?
"Mulder". No response.
"Mulder", again no response, no acknowledgment that he had heard her.
Okay, now she was getting concerned. Enough was enough. Scully put down the
file she was reviewing and walked over to his desk. Placing her hand gently
on his shoulder, she was startled when he jumped up, causing his chair to
tumble. Eyes wild, he pushed himself up against the wall, hand tightening on
his weapon.
"Mulder, what the hell is going on," shouted Scully?
She was frightened, not for herself, she knew he wouldn't hurt her, but for
him. She had seen him like this before, exhausted, angry, seemingly detached
from the world around him. He was extremely thin, she'd hardly gotten him to
eat a thing during their last case and the weight loss showed in the loose
fit of his suit. And then there was Samantha...
Mulder, not really clear on what had just happened either, breathed deeply
and willed his pulse to slow down. He closed his eyes and released his grip
on his gun.
"Scully, you scared the hell out of me", he attempted a smile, running his
hands nervously through his hair. As he met her eyes, he thought, oh no here
it comes.
Scully approached him slowly. Instinctively, he stepped back, only to find
the wall blocking his way. Silently, looking him deep in the eyes, she
reached up and placed her hand on his
forehead, warm, but not feverish.
"Mulder", she said, her hand slipping down a bit to caress his cheek, "I'm
really worried about you."
He stared back at her for a moment, then reached up and removed her hand.
She was close, too close. She knew him better than most, who was he kidding,
probably knew him best of all but right now she was just too damn close.
Releasing her hand, he stepped behind her putting the desk between them
before he spoke.
"I'm fine Scully, just a bit worn out...tired", rubbing his neck tensely as
if to prove his point. It isn't as if there's been much down time lately. I
just need to finish this report and get out of here. "
As he spoke his eyes ran over the walls of their office, when did it get so
small? How was it that he could spend hours, sometimes days down here
digging through file after file. He knew he had but for the life of him,
right now, at this moment in time he couldn't figure out how or.........why?
She stepped back sensing if she pushed she would be pushing him away, not
pulling him back. She needed time to plan her approach. Looking up, she gave
him her most sincere smile and said "okay, Mulder, I understand. You're
right, this case was stressful and we both deserve a little time off. I just
know it's been a bit harder on you since," she hesitated as she saw his face
freeze, "well, since they found Samantha's body."
He closed his eyes, silently willing her to be still. He could hear her
speak but the words seemed to slur into long, incomprehensible sentences.
" It really was too soon for you to go out on another case, you hardly had
time to grieve." She stepped closer, hoping he'd take the shoulder she was
offering. As she moved in, he flinched back.
Sad hazel eyes locked with hers, "I've been grieving for Samantha all my
life, I can't help her anymore. I was able to help those people in Seattle,
Scully, we needed to catch that monster!"
"Mulder, you know I don't disagree, if you hadn't been there he would still
be out there butchering innocent people."
"Skinner was right to send us Scully, I was needed," he insisted.
"Oh Mulder, you're always needed," she assured.
He wrapped his arms around himself his eyes bright with unshed tears, he
wore his emotions so plainly on his sleeve it was almost painful to watch.
"Mulder, " she said softly, "have you given any more thought about talking
to someone?"
"I talk to people all them time Scully," deliberately misunderstanding her
statement, he sat down and began to type (stop talking Scully, stop
talking).
"Mulder", no answer.
"Fox", his eyes shot up to meet hers. She leaned over his desk, inches from
his face.
Damn, why does she have to get so close, I don't want anyone this close, not
anymore. Back away Scully, back away. Rolling his chair back a few feet, he
sighed, "Yes Scully, I have given some thought to talking to someone and
I've decided that it is simply not necessary."
She raised her eyebrow at his response but refused to move away from him.
" I'm a big boy, a psychologist, very aware of who I am and my long laundry
list of personal problems." Taking a deep breath, he continued, " I
understand that the finding of my sister's body shuts the door on a chapter
in my life that has motivated me to live the way I have all these years. I
accept that I see shadows around every corner, conspiracies apparently
everywhere."
Feeling somewhat on the defensive, she pulled back. She attempted to
interrupt but he wouldn't let her. He was upset, angry and so very tired of
being simultaneously patronized, humored and ridiculed.
Standing now, he continued, "no Scully, do not interrupt, you wanted to
know, you insisted."
She stepped back further from him feeling as though she'd been burned.
He continued, "if anyone in this world has a right to be screwed up, it's
me. My life reads like some freaking side show and yes, I accept that. I
accept that sometimes after a case when I've had to practically perform a
fucking Vulcan mind meld with a psycho who enjoys sacrificing his victims to
his vision of Satan." Miserably, he added, "he peeled off their skin Scully,
while they were still alive!"
She nodded, she knew this, she had the grisly task of performing the
autopsies.
He gulped at the air, wiping the sweat from his face with his sleeve. "I
accept that having an alcoholic, cold father who...," he stopped suddenly
terrified of what he had been about to reveal.
Scully stunned, clearly understanding what he had just disclosed, reached
her hand out to him, wanting, needing to offer him some comfort.
Ignoring her offer, he stumbled on, "who... who ignored me throughout my
childhood, that maybe I might feel guilty and angry, accepting all the blame
for Samantha. I accept all this Scully every single day and still I get up.
I can't figure out how but I get up and come to work and try to perform a
service that somewhere down the line will help someone, will answer
unanswered questions."
Pointing his finger at her accusingly, "what I do NOT accept is the constant
invasion into my head by government- funded shrinks, by every emergency room
doctor that stabs me with needles full of mind-dulling drugs but most
especially by you! Jesus Scully, the last time you wouldn't let them release
me for a week, what gives you that right," he demanded harshly. He was near
crying now, he could feel the tears burning his eyes, begging to be
released. His head, God his head, not now, not now. He collapsed against the
nearest wall, his knees bending awkwardly as he slid to the floor cradling
his head in both hands. "Just take me", he moaned, "what the hell are you
waiting for, just take me, stop this pain."
The room fell silent, silent except for the sound of the two agents
breathing, the sound of a partnership shattering into pieces. Scully,
overwhelmed and confused by where this had all led just stared. She stared
down at this man, this scared and, in her eyes, broken man. She was hurt,
his words had stung. She knew her natural tendency was to observe for
faults, cracks in him but only because she cared. She felt a strong
commitment to keeping this man safe and well. He had saved her life almost
as many times as he put it in danger. He would think nothing of giving his
life to save hers. She loved him, no, not as a lover although there was a
time early in their relationship that she wondered about the possibility.
But over time, she found him too unpredictable, one minute wonderfully
charming, the next deeply moody. It was not unusual for Mulder to run the
gamut of all possible emotions in a day, hell, who was she kidding, in an
hour. He was a highly intelligent, complex man whose lifestyle and way of
looking at the world would never allow her the kind of life she eventually
wanted. She put him in the "no" box of possible lover/husband and at the
same time put him in her heart as her friend, her best friend. Over time he
had become so much more than even that, he was her partner, protector,
father and brother. The label didn't matter, it was how she felt and right
now, as hurt as she was, she still supported and believed in him. Right now
she knew, even without her medical degree that Fox Mulder was very close to
meltdown.
Too much had happened to this man in too short of a time. His sister
Samantha had been found, body positively identified by dental records. The
body appeared to be approximately 15 years of age and it left one wondering
what her life must have been like from the time she was taken to her death.
The autopsy was straight forward, evidence pointed to a broken neck as cause
of death. Bones indicated malnutrition, deficiencies and there was other
evidence of experimentation, abuse, evidence that she would never fully
share with him. She'd never rethis piece of information could be the one
thing that pushed him over into the darkness. This could be the reason he
searched for to put the gun up to his head and pull the trigger. She still
had nightmares of him doing just that when Modell controlled his mind. If
she felt he would accept it she would wrap him up in her arms and hold
tight, let him lean on her for a while. If only he could let it go, share
with her what he was feeling, but Mulder, especially this Mulder slumped to
the office floor, would not let her get that close. She hadn't missed the
way he flinched every time she came near. She had to get him help, help to
come to terms with all that had happened. She would never be able to forgive
herself if something were to happen to him and she had not tried to protect
him. Skinner, she though, she would talk to Skinner, he would know how to
handle this. He seemed to understand Mulder, always seemed to know just how
much rope to let him have before he pulled him back. Maybe together, she and
Skinner could pull him back.
A sniffle, a deep groan, Scully saw him push himself off the wall to stand.
She didn't move to help him. After a moment he looked up and began to walk
towards her. She stood her ground, if he needed her, she would be there
despite all the painful things he had said.
"Scully," Mulder reached out to touch her shoulder, leaned down to look her
in the eyes. His eyes tired and cloudy. "Scully", shaking her shoulder, "I'm
sorry, I had no right to explode that way. Please, please don't be angry,
please don't ," his words stuck in his throat, don't what Mulder, what don't
you want her to do?
Scully covered his hand with hers and squeezed gently. She noticed he was
trembling slightly. "It's okay Mulder, I understand."
He looked at her a moment longer, was it fear she saw in his eyes, now why
would he be afraid of her?
"Mulder, we're both", a pause as she searched for the word, " stressed. This
was a tough one, let's just get this information to Skinner, close the
drawer and go home. I won't push you anymore tonight."
Mulder nodded and slowly returned to his desk, sat down and again began to
type. The words on the screen meant nothing What did she mean, won't push
anymore tonight?. Shaking his head in an effort to pull himself into now, he
said, "I have about another 20-30minutes of work here", again typing, "why
don't you go up and summarize it all for Skinner, I'll walk in, drop the
words on his desk and we'll be walking out of there in record time."
Scully didn't argue, this would give her a few minutes to talk to Skinner
before he joined them. With Skinner's help she knew they could help him.
Quickly gathering the files she had organized, she slipped them under her
arm and headed for the door. "Okay Mulder but don't leave me hanging in
there too long, I'll expect you in about 30 minutes, deal?"
Head down, small smile on his face, he shook his head, "deal Scully, I'll be
there as quickly as possible." Mulder began furiously typing as Scully let
herself out the door. When he heard the door close, his fingers slowed, then
stopped completely. Exhausted, he put his head down on his arms and wept.
************ Skinner's office always reminded her of her high school
principal's office. She couldn't shake the feeling that she was in trouble
whenever she needed to meet with him. Funny how childhood memories haunt you
forever, even the trivial ones. Frowning she thought of Mulder's childhood
memories, would he ever be able to leave them behind?
Skinner stood as she entered the office, frowning he looked behind her and
demanded, "where's Mulder?"
Clearing her throat, Scully, tensely replied, "well sir, he's just finishing
up the paperwork, he should be joining us shortly. But sir, before he does,
I need to ask for your help."
Skinner, never breaking eye contact, sat down. He sensed Scully was deeply
disturbed by something, her lower lip was shaking slightly and she was
having trouble meeting his eyes. "What is it Scully or should I say, who is
it?"
"Sir, you know I would never betray a confidence unless," she paused.
Skinner leaned forward, "unless?"
"Unless I truly felt that more harm would come of me not speaking than if I
do," she rushed to finish.
"It's Mulder, isn't it, what's he done now," he sighed.
"No, no sir it's not what he's done, it's what I fear he may do," openly
fighting back tears now Scully continued. "Sir, I believe Mulder may be
close to an emotional breakdown, he appears to be losing his grip on
reality, fading in and out.......I'm afraid of what he might do." There, she
had said it, sorry Mulder but I can't let this happen.
Skinner sat back heavily in his chair. He knew what it took for Scully to
come to him with this. He knew that she would not be saying these words if
she did not believe he was a risk to himself. Mulder and Scully shared a
partnership like none he had ever seen and it must be breaking her, killing
her to reveal this information.
Now Mulder, thought Skinner, he was a difficult man to read. How many times
( he had lost count), had he stood in front of Skinner's desk and attempted
to convince him of his theories, his incredible, eccentric theories. And of
all those times, how many times had he been right? The boy, no strike that,
man was an investigative genius there was no one who, knowing Fox Mulder,
could deny this but never before had he met so fragile a human being.
Fragile yet resilient, was this possible? How many times had Mulder returned
from a case broken and bruised. How many insurance claims had been filed in
his name and still he kept coming back for more. Skinner knew Mulder's file
from memory, he knew things that weren't in his file, the abuse suffered at
the hands of his father for one. He knew of the injuries that had plagued
the young Fox. Sometimes he wondered if Mulder wasn't just destined to
relive his childhood over and over only this time, instead of his father
beating him, criticizing him, it was the world. >From the criminals he
pursued to his insensitive coworkers, Scully excluded of course, this man
took a beating every day. And only recently the one thing that seemed to
keep him going, the one quest he never tired of was taken away from him.
Samantha found, a chapter finally closed, but was Mulder strong enough to
move on? It appeared not without some help.
"Agent Scully... Dana, what do you think needs to happen, how can we help
him?"
"Sir, as much as I know he will hate it, fight it, I think he needs some
time away. I think he needs a place where he can safely confront his
emotions."
Skinner shifted uncomfortably, this didn't feel right. He trusted Scully and
her assessment of her partner. He knew her medical background would never
allow her to suggest such a thing without careful thought. He was
uncomfortable because he knew Scully had understated what Mulder's reaction
would be to such a suggestion. Mulder had a deep- seated fear of hospitals
and all that came with them. Just the mention of drug therapy, counseling or
worse, even the slightest possibility of restraints would send him flying.
Shaking his head, Skinner replied, "he'll never agree."
"Sir, he would never agree to go on my say but maybe together, we could
confront him, make him understand it's for his own good," openly crying now,
"sir, I just don't want to see him hurt himself and I think he's very close
to doing just that."
Skinner stood and crossed over to Scully, kneeling down in front of her he
took her hands. "Scully, if need be I'll order him to go. I would never be
able to live with myself if I let that happen. I'll talk to medical in the
morning, if all goes well, we'll have him scheduled for a session by the
afternoon and, if advised so, admitted. Don't worry Scully", releasing her
hands, he stood, "we'll get him through this."
Outside of Skinner's office, Mulder leaned heavily against the wall. He
struggled with his rage, fighting dark waves of desperation. How could she,
how could she betray him like this? They would take him, they would drug
him, make him talk of things he couldn't, no wouldn't, reveal. Well fuck all
of them, he was not going, he would not be locked away until someone else
said he could go. He would never again allow himself to be put in that
position. His head was throbbing, he reached out to block the light with his
hand and groaned aloud.
Skinner's voice called from the office, "who's there?"
Mulder straightened, wiped the tears from his face and stepped into the
doorway. He'd be damned if he would let them win, he would not let them see,
they would never know how much their words, their planned actions had hurt
him. If they knew, they wouldn't let him leave tonight, he needed to play it
cool here... stay calm. He took a deep breath and looked up to meet
Skinner's eyes.
"Mulder, come in, uh", looking quickly at Scully, "how long have you been
out there?"
Calm, stay calm, "sir", entering the office, "I just arrived", looking down
at Scully, he smiled. "Sorry I'm late Scully, had a bit more to finish than
I thought."
Skinner studied him closely, Scully was right, he looked bad. His hair,
overgrown, fell carelessly across his forehead, his eyes red, Skinner could
see he had been crying. Damn, why him, why do so many bad things happen to
this man?
"Sit down Agent Mulder, you and Agent Scully have been gone for quite a
while, let's take a few minutes to catch up."
"Sir, is it possible you missed us, now that would be an X-file", Mulder
laughed. His laughter was choked, that of a man trying way too hard to be
perceived as normal.
Skinner picked up on it immediately, "now Mulder," smiling sadly, "I
wouldn't go that far." He took the file from Mulder noticing as he did that
Mulder's hands were trembling ever so slightly. A less observant man would
probably not have noticed, hell he probably wouldn't have noticed if not for
his conversation with Scully. "Relax, Mulder, let me take a minute to look
this over."
Mulder clutched the chair arms tightly as he sat down.
"So, are you both looking forward to a little R&R before your next case,"
asked Skinner casually.
Mulder's head snapped up, what the fuck, what the fuck, he raged. His head
was ready to explode. The two people he thought he could trust most in the
world were planning to have him committed and Skinner was making small talk.
Fists clenched, he inhaled deeply, obviously fighting for control. Calm down
Mulder, stay calm, if you don't stay calm they won't let you out of here.
Suddenly remembering the comments he had overheard from the outer office, he
smiled, "well sir, that's exactly what I had in mind, in fact with your
permission, I was thinking about taking the next few days off. Skinner and
Scully looked at each other in panic. "You know sir, catch up on some sleep,
clean out the old refrigerator, scoop out my fish", his voice softened,
somehow the thought of his fish, stuck in that tank relying completely on
someone else to keep their home clean and them fed reminded him too much
of....of.....of what, he looked up quickly at the sound of Skinner's voice.
Damn he was going to cry again, he rubbed at his eyes with his fists. What
did he care about those fish, they were just fish, not worth crying over.
When he looked up again, Skinner leaning over him and Scully had her hand on
his arm. He squinted at Skinner forcing himself to hear what he was saying.
Quickly pulling his arm away from Scully, he missed the hurt in her eyes.
"Sorry sir, I guess I'm more tired than I thought, do you mind if we cut
this short, I really need to sleep," as if to emphasize his point he again
rubbed his eyes, rubbed them until he was sure no evidence of the tears that
had threatened to fall.
Skinner was shocked, he had never seen Mulder so emotionally exposed. He
looked over at Scully who sat silent, white as a sheet. It was up to him to
take control of this situation, Mulder was his agent, his responsibility but
more important than that, he cared about Mulder. Sometimes he looked so
young, so alone he wanted to lean over and hold him as a father would hold a
son. He knew he would never act on his impulse, knew Mulder would not know
what a father's touch was, so he would do what was his duty to do, protect
his agent even if that protection was needed from the agent themselves.
"Mulder, I'll make you a deal," the agent looked up at Skinner expectantly,
"you and Scully take off now and get some sleep." Mulder rose preparing to
leave immediately. "Agent Mulder, I still need to review your report with
both of you so plan on coming in for a few hours tomorrow to provide status
on this case. Once we're done you can both take a few days off."
"Sir", Mulder blinked rapidly at the bright lights in the room, "would
it...would it be all right if I arrived a bit later. I'd like to sleep in."
Skinner stared, did Mulder know, after all, the kid's nickname was Spooky?
He hesitated and examined Mulder closely. It was clear he was exhausted when
Mulder actually planned to oversleep. Reluctantly, he agreed, "sure Mulder,
get some sleep, but be in my office by 1:00pm SHARP, don't keep me waiting!"
Mulder backed his way to the door, "no sir, I'll be here... Scully, you
coming?"
"I'm going straight out," she replied, " see you tomorrow and Mulder,"
He stopped by the door, leaning heavily against its' frame, hair mussed, sad
eyes, he looked beat, "take care of yourself, get some sleep," she added.
"Sure Scully, how could I not?" Mulder was almost completely out the door
now, close, very close to escape.
"Mulder," Scully called unwilling to let him go.
Mulder's head popped back around the door, "yah Scully?"
She gazed at him protectively, "never mind, just get some rest, you know I
worry." Go on, she waved him out, "good night". She sat back
down as he once again began to leave.
"Okay", he called, "good bye Scully, Skinner" and with that he was gone.
Scully put her head in her hands and began to cry. Skinner moved to hold her
and together they grieved for the pain of their friend.
Mulder quickly made his way back to his office. Any tiredness he felt had
been replaced by a surge of energy so intense it nearly knocked him off his
feet. Entering his office he stood silent for a moment his mind mentally
reviewing every item. There was work to do, much work to do. Before he began
the task of determining what he would take and what he would leave, he
walked over to his "I Want to Believe" poster. Standing silently in front of
it he thought of all the things he had ever believed in, his family, a lying
mother, an angry abusive father and a sister, the only goodness in his life,
swept away by a conspiracy as yet unsolved. He thought of his belief in
alien life and his other paranormal discoveries. He thought of Deep Throat
Skinner and Scully. He laughed, not that small choking laugh he had tried to
pull off in Skinner's office, but a hearty chuckle. He reached for the
poster and in one sweeping motion ripped it from the wall. Crumpling it up
in a small ball, he shoved it roughly into his trash bin. "I don't want to
believe in anything anymore, believing is just too hard." With that task
done, he began to pack up the items most important to him.
It was around 1:00am when he finally left the building. Over his shoulder
was a large, over-stuffed canvas briefcase. The guard, used to this agent's
irregular hours, barely noticed as he walked by. There was a strange one all
right, a certified nut. That man worked all hours and from the looks of it
he takes enough work home with him to never sleep. Shaking his head, the
guard sat back and continued to read his paper.
************ She stared at herself in her bathroom mirror. She too was
exhausted but unfortunately, sleep had not come last night. No matter how
tired she was she couldn't get the picture of Mulder, slumped to the floor,
head cradled in his hands, out of her head. Then later in Skinner's office a
few times she feared he must know. She sat so quietly because she was afraid
if she spoke she would say or do something that would take him further away
from her. She rinsed her face with cool water, willing herself to calm down.
God she hoped she was doing the right thing, Mulder would never forgive her
if she was wrong, hell he's not going to forgive you if you're right. Give
it up Dana, get up, get dressed and go into work.
************ Mulder had still not slept, it was as if all need for sleep or
food had completely disappeared in his panic to escape. Every time he began
to feel tired his memory conjured up images of previous visits when they had
tied him down, when they had....."stop," he shouted out loud, " it doesn't
matter anymore!" Nothing was holding him here anymore, Sam was dead and his
mother had not shown any interest in his condition since Sam disappeared. He
no longer believed he would ever know the whole truth about Sam's
disappearance. No, nothing was holding him here anymore, no one.
Next to the door lay an overstuffed duffel bag. Everything that was
important to him was in that bag. There wasn't much, some clothes, his
photographs. He had packed his laptop and the many disks he had taken from
his office in a backpack designed solely for that purpose. He also stashed
an envelope full of various Ids knowing they would be making some attempt to
find him. A few bags of seeds and his preparations were complete.
The energy that had served him so well throughout the night was beginning to
fade. All he wanted to do was curl up on his couch and rest. Why couldn't
they leave him alone? Alone was okay, alone was actually good, alone didn't
get you hurt, alone didn't let you trust people only to be horribly
disappointed and terrified by what good friends would do for you. Right now,
the Cigarette Smoking Man would be welcome compared to Skinner and Scully's
plans for the day. Without realizing it, he found himself sitting on the
edge of his sofa. He ran his long fingers gently over its' leather. He'd
miss this couch, truth be told it had provided him with more comfort than
any human ever had.
He stood and walked one more time throughout his apartment. He knew this was
the last time he would be here. The bathroom was stripped clean of
toiletries, dirty towels ignored in a heap on the floor. His unused bedroom
offered nothing, he quickly scanned the closet again. His suits hung neatly,
some still in the dry cleaners bags. He had shoved one suit with a few dress
shirts and several ties in his bag. It would be badly wrinkled but one never
knew when a suit was needed, his mother had taught him that. He quickly
moved through the kitchen and then to his living room. Never had a room been
more appropriately name since indeed Mulder had lived in this room. His
tapes lay in disarray on the floor, the tv even now hummed quietly,
strangely comforting. He stepped over to his fish tank and examined the
little ones closely. Reaching over he grabbed their food and fed them for
the last time, amazingly enough they had survived his last case, a kind
neighbor had actually fed them as he asked. He worried as to who would take
care of them. Without thinking, he reached for a pen and paper, wrote a note
and taped it to the tank. Scully wouldn't mind, after all she would have
lots of free time now that he wouldn't be around any more. Satisfied, he
took one more look around, hefted his bags and left.
Mulder tossed his bags into the back seat of his rental car. He had leased
it under one of his false Ids having the company deliver the car just a few
blocks from his home. He was living dangerously now, he didn't even buy the
supplemental insurance. Beyond tired, he chuckled quietly, "oh yah Mulder,
FBI's best profiler ever, chaser of serial killers and mutant sewer
creatures, fuck the extra car insurance. You're living on the edge now."
He started the car, "Born to be Wild" blared on the radio. Reaching to turn
it down, he stopped short and decided to let it wail. As he pulled away from
his apartment, he began to sing with the song.
Over the next two hours Mulder had visited two banks and one safe deposit
box. He closed both his accounts and emptied out his personal papers and
still more cash from his box. He always knew the day would come when he
would have to move quickly. He had several other accounts, inherited money
from his dad and a kind aunt long ago. That money was safe, easily
accessible on line, using just an account number. He had hidden the money
well, with some help from his Lone Gunmen friends, and knew that they
wouldn't be able to trace him from there. In reality, he could probably
travel quite comfortably for a few years before his funds ran dry. Small
consolation for having to walk away from his life but it was better than
most people have.
Climbing into his car, he tucked most of the cash into separate hiding
places, in his various bags and under the seat (just in case). He carried
his weapons on him, by rights he should have left them but you never know
when they could come in handy. He hoped that he would only be avoiding
Skinner and Scully for a while but was not na‹ve enough to believe that
others, like my old black- lunged friend, might not take an interest in his
disappearance. At the thought of Cancer Man, Mulder reached for his gun. It
comforted him to feel it's cool handle in his palm. Not sure why he pulled
it from his holster and held it low on his lap. Running it gently up and
down his leg he found himself wondering what it might feel like, what it
would feel like to simply place the gun in his mouth, and just...and just
what Mulder, blow your head off. Do that and that makes them right, they are
not right, they are wrong, you are okay. He angrily shoved the gun back into
it's holster. Glancing down at the clock he saw it was almost 11:00am. It
was definitely time to go, when you're far enough away you can send them an
e-mail but for now you need to get moving. Pulling into traffic, he began to
drive, not too fast Fox, don't want to attract any attention, just take it
easy. Where am I going, he thought, does it matter? No, it didn't really
matter, first get out of this town, second get some food and third, although
third would not come for quite some time, find a safe place to sleep, to
hide. A few hours out of town, he stopped for gas. He stocked up on
caffeine-laden soda and some snack food. Pulling the car to the side of the
station, Mulder stepped out to use the facilities. As he was washing up, he
noticed he was still in yesterday's suit, damn how could he have overlooked
this. He stripped off his suit jacket, rolled up his shirt sleeves and
opened the collar hoping no one had noticed the strange man in the rumpled
suit. He'd change when he had more privacy. As he was adjusting his clothes
he heard a phone ring. He sat staring at his jacket until the ringing
stopped. He slowly reached for the phone and held it to his cheek. His
lifeline, his link to her, to Skinner, to what was his world. He started as
the phone began ringing again, he knew it was Scully, knew from the time
that she was probably outside, hell, in Skinner's office right now. He
turned the phone off and placed it gently in the bottom of the trash
underneath the used paper towels. He moved slowly, like an old, tired man.
Somehow leaving that phone behind was harder than everything else he had
done. Once the phone was gone, everything was gone, it was put up or shut
up, it was start over or shut down. Right now he didn't know which choice
was more likely. Operating on auto pilot he climbed into his car and drove.
************ Scully paced nervously in their basement office, where was he?
It was 12:58pm, where the hell was he? She called his apartment but no
answer, strange his answering machine had not even picked up. She had tried
several times now to call him on his cell phone, why wasn't he picking up?
What if... no he wouldn't have done it last night. If he was gong to do it
he would have called her, he would have said good bye, there was no way he
wouldn't have said good bye. Maybe he was already up in Skinner's office or,
she smiled, probably he overslept and is running up to Skinner's office
right now. He had been tired last
night, so had she. Maybe after Skinner and she talked him into checking
himself in for a while, everything would return to normal or whatever normal
meant when one worked on the X-Files. He had to be all right, she needed
him, she needed this work, he wouldn't leave her alone, would he?
Suddenly she stopped, something was different here, what was different?
Looking around she made note of the files stacked neatly on his desk, no
glasses, where were his glasses, he was always leaving them at work. What
else, what else was different? She walked around the room slowly until she
came to a blank space on the wall, his poster, his I Want To Believe poster,
it was gone. He loved that poster, why would he have taken it down? Then it
struck her, everything was neat, tidy, file drawers were closed, files
stacked neatly on the desk, pens in the holder not thrown on he desk. And
his PC, why would he have taken his laptop home with him last night, surely
he had no intention of working? Her eye caught on something in the trash and
slowly she bent to pull it out. It was his poster, crumpled up, completely
destroyed. She could almost imagine him tearing it from the wall in a rage.
Her files, Samantha's file, she moved to her desk and found her lap drawer
had been forced open. Samantha's file was missing, her autopsy notes were
gone. "Oh God, I never should have left him alone last night," she said
aloud. A feeling of dread flowed through her, a small voice in her head
asked the question very quietly, what it he's not coming back, what if
he's....no, she wouldn't allow herself to think this way. By the looks of
things I'd say he took all his toys and went home. Mulder with no X-Files,
the X-Files with no Mulder, either way you said it, it just didn't fit. No,
no, Mulder could never leave the X-files, Mulder's home is the X-files,
Mulder would never leave her, would he? Oh yes, he was always ditching her
but he believed it was for her own good. He always gave her a hard time
about her Dr. Scully mannerisms, how many shots had she given him over the
years, boy he really didn't like those but he wouldn't ditch her over that,
would he? She knew, she knew why his things were gone, she just didn't want
to accept it, "he knew, he must have heard us last night" she said aloud,
"was it possible?" He was acting weird when he left, weird even by Mulder
standards. "What did he say, c'mon Dana, you couldn't have been that tired,
what did he say?" She hadn't realized she spoke out loud until she saw
Skinner at the door. Looking at her with his dark, serious eyes, he said,
"Good-bye".
"Excuse me sir", Scully looked at him confused.
"Scully, he said good-bye. He said Good-bye Scully, Skinner. He knew, he
must have been out in that office for some time before he came in. He must
have heard at least a portion of what we said, enough to scare the hell out
of him."
Scully felt herself fall, Skinner quickly caught her and moved her into the
nearest chair. She sat frozen, stunned, "he knew, he knew and he just sat
there. He must have been so frightened, so angry and yet he just sat there.
After the discovery of his sister's body, almost two months on a case that
nearly killed him mentally, he comes back and finds that the only home he
has ever known, the only people he has ever trusted have betrayed him," her
face dropped into her hands. Skinner watched helplessly becoming more angry
as each minute passed, "God damn Mulder," he snapped, " why couldn't you
trust that we were doing what was right for you, why do you have to be so
stubborn?"
Skinner leaned in closer to Scully, "Scully, we don't know that he's gone,
we just know that he packed up his things here. For all we know he's passed
out on that damned couch of his in complete exhaustion. After all, to pack
up his things here must have taken a while, you're getting upset and I'm
getting pissed for nothing. Let's go pay a visit to our Mr. Mulder, if
anything, this little stunt he pulled proves beyond a shadow of a doubt that
he needs more help than we both realized.
Scully wiped away her tears, grabbed her purse and was out the door ahead of
Skinner. Of course, he must be at his apartment, he's pouting, he's hurt but
he's there, I know he would never go anywhere without talking to me first.
Skinner and Scully stopped just long enough to pick up Dr. Schumacher from
Skinner's office. They had hoped he could assist in confronting Mulder. They
all agreed that a neutral party might have more luck talking to him than
either of them. As they headed to Mulder's apartment, Scully turned to Dr.
Schumacher. "How do you think he will react to our sudden appearance in his
home?"
Dr. Schumacher thought for a moment and said, " I have read a great deal
about Agent Mulder in his file. He has had many experiences with various
forms of therapy so I'm not sure how effective direct confrontation anywhere
will be. This man who will only benefit if he wants to get well, any
fighting of the treatment and..." he trailed off shrugging his shoulders.
"However, if we had been able to talk in Director Skinner's office I had
hoped he might make an attempt to stay calm and follow the rules. I don't
think we can count on that type of behavior in his own apartment. That is
his space and we will be invading it, he may panic, he may withdraw, he may
become very angry, in any case, we must prepare for the worst. I've brought
along a tranquilizer in case it becomes necessary.." Noticing Scully's
concern he soothed, "don't worry Dr. Scully, only enough to calm him should
it become necessary. My role here is to help, not harm him.
Making a quick turn, Skinner pulled into a space in front of Mulder's
building. Entering the building, they rushed for the elevator and to his
floor. Stepping quietly off the lift, they moved towards his door. Closer
now, they noticed the door was partially open. Scully rushed forward and
would have entered if not for Skinner's hand on her arm. Motioning for her
to step back, Skinner attempted to enter the apartment as quietly as
possible.
"Agent Mulder," silence, "Agent Mulder" Skinner called out. Another step
inside and he stopped, stunned. Scully, who had been following close behind
Skinner, found herself bumping into Skinner's back. "Sir, sorry sir," she
mumbled rubbing her nose. Looking past Skinner she understood what had
caused him to stop so quickly. The place was a shambles, it looked as though
it had been robbed, no check that, not robbed, ransacked. His television,
VCR and tapes were there but everything looked as though it had been
touched. Scully checked the bathroom and bedroom and realized immediately
who the person responsible for the state of the apartment, Mulder, Mulder
had done this, how could he have done this?
Walking into the bedroom Skinner found Scully standing in front of Mulder's
closet stunned. She turned as he entered her eyes wide in disbelief. "Most
of his clothes are gone, except for his suits," she motioned for him to look
through the closet. "I know Mulder had pictures of his family on his
dresser, those are also gone." Scully sat down on the bed unable to
comprehend what she was seeing.
"Agent Scully...Dana, I'm finding it very difficult to believe that the
extremely exhausted Mulder who left my office last night could have
accomplished this and the clearing out of his office in so short of time. Is
it possible this is a set up, is it possible this is some elaborate scheme
to make him disappear and make us believe that it was his own choice?"
Dr. Schumacher called out of the bedroom, "Agent Scully, it looks like he
left you a little something."
Scully and Skinner joined Dr. Schumacher by the fish tank. Attached to the
tank was a note, in Mulder's writing it said:
Scully,
Please take care of my fish. Like me they
need to be fed every other day and checked
regularly to insure they haven't gone belly
up. Unlike me, they will not disappoint
or annoy. If you don't want them, just flush.
Mulder
P.S.
Just kidding Scully, don't flush them.
Dr. Schumacher had completed his own search of the small apartment and then
moved to sit down on the couch. Skinner leaned against the nearest wall as
Scully continued to stare at the note. Dr. Schumacher spoke first.
"Well, it is obvious from Agent Mulder's actions that he is in the midst of
an emotional upheaval of some sort.. The fact that he saw no other way to
deal with the thought that he might be detained, perhaps restrained, tells
me he "may" have lost his grip, his very fragile grip on reality,"
Schumacher continued to speak as he looked around. "On the other hand, he
appears to have been very deliberate in the items he took with him and even
took the time to plan the future of his fish. Either way, some part of him
has broken, fear he is denying who he is and how he feels about everything
he has been forced to endure." Standing now, he looked at Skinner and
Scully, "Others have diagnosed Agent Mulder with Post Traumatic Stress
Disorder. It is difficult to know if this diagnosis was correct. I suspect
Agent Mulder is very good at manipulating those who attempt to label him.
Based on both your descriptions of his behavior, it may very well be on
target. If that is the case we need to locate him and determine the best
course of therapy for him. Find him and find him soon. I have heard much
about this "Spooky Mulder" and it would be a shame to lose such a man as an
agent and as a friend."
Scully agreed, "Dr. Schumacher, why this extreme response, Mulder has always
been a bit uhm....unorthodox, but why do you think he felt such a strong
need to just disappear?"
"I don't know for sure, Dr. Scully, but if I had to guess, I'd say he's
attempting to take control of the situation."
"Control," laughed Skinner harshly, "this boy is so out of control right now
it's downright scary! Let's think through this situation, an FBI agent on
the edge, armed with intimate knowledge of our government information
systems as well as a government issued weapon. We need to find him and we
need to find him now!"
Scully spoke, "sir, I agree," her professional face now making an
appearance, " I'll provide a description of Agent Mulder to local and state
police." She pulled her phone from her pocket and began to make the needed
calls.
"Scully", she looked up at Skinner, "I don't care what it takes, find him,
find him before someone else does."
"Yes sir."
Skinner and Schumacher headed back to the office, Scully remained in
Mulder's apartment looking for more clues. She was upset but she would not
let her personal feelings get in the way, first find Mulder, then get upset.
She began knocking on his neighbor's doors hoping they could help her fit
the pieces into this strange and frightening
situation."
************ Scully sat before Director Skinner's desk and began a read out
of all the information she had gathered regarding Mulder's disappearance.
"Sir, it appears that after he left your office last night he returned to
his own. He must have spent most of the night packing up the things he felt
he needed and exited the building at approximately 1:00am. His laptop is
gone and the hard drive of his PC has been removed."
Skinner was concerned, stolen equipment was bad, stolen weapons was worse
but information, what information had Mulder taken with him? Knowing Mulder,
probably just a few of his precious X-files but after these last 48 hours he
doubted if anyone really knew Mulder. Scully continued, "from there I
believe he went back to his apartment and began to pack, not everything but
everything that was important to him including necessary clothing,
toiletries, photographs and important papers. A neighbor reported seeing him
this morning carrying two bags down to a car. She's used to seeing him leave
the building with a bag but this one was a bit unusual, a large duffel bag
supposedly stuffed to the max. She also commented on the fact that he
appeared to be tired, distracted and wearing a very wrinkled suit. He didn't
even acknowledge her when she passed him in the hall and said good morning."
Skinner raised his eyebrows in question, "sir, it appears that Mulder is
usually quite friendly to the woman and she was hurt that he didn't stop to
chat. She was also very worried because he looked messy and unkempt, she's
used to him always looking, in her words, like such a nice young man. She
looked up at Skinner, "it looks like he didn't take time to shower change
before he left."
Skinner nodded understanding the meaning behind that remark. Mulder was
obviously not concerned with his own well being during his late night
escapade. "Go on Scully."
Dana looked down at her notes, "All bank accounts and funds linked to his
social security number have been closed. All in all he walked away with
about $35,000 not including what he may have picked up from his safety
deposit box which he also visited this morning." She paused for a moment,
"sir, I believe he also kept a substantial amount of cash within his
apartment. He hinted at it several times and never seemed to be at a loss to
pick up and go when needed."
Skinner waved her on.
"His car phone was found about an hour ago. I... I'd been calling his number
all day and I finally received an answer. It was from a janitor who cleans
out gas station rest rooms off the main highway. He found it in the trash,
turned it on, and when he did, answered my call. I'll be driving out there
next to question all employees." She stopped and rubbed her forehead before
she continued, she was tired, more tired than she thought possible but she
could not, no would not choose this time to fall apart. Mulder needed her
and she would not let him down, not again. We're checking all auto rentals,
airports and public transportation sights by name and picture, but of
course, knowing Mulder," she smiled slightly here, " he probably didn't use
his own name. I've also checked under his known aliases but found nothing."
Skinner leaned forward on his desk. Slowly he ran his hands over his face
trying to put himself in Mulder's place. He could see Scully was near
collapse and, to be honest, he wasn't far behind her. He didn't know how
much he should tell her, didn't know how much more she could take at this
point. Slowly he stood, Scully looked up expectantly, what did he know?
"Tell me sir, I need to know everything if I'm going to find him." Skinner's
eyebrows raised in surprise, this woman never failed to amaze him, so small
yet so strong. Everyone had their limits though. Understanding her not
knowing would put Mulder and her both in danger, he began.
"Scully, you know there are those that watch Mulder and his activities?"
"Yes, I don't necessarily know who or....why but it has always been obvious
that Mulder has his friends and his enemies."
"His friends will obviously be concerned at this turn of events, but his
enemies, I'm not sure how they will react." Skinner walked to the window and
looked out, searching for the words to continue. "When he's here, when he's
working with you Scully," he turned to meet her eyes, "I know where he is or
at least where he should be. Yes, he often goes off half cocked but I always
know he'll come back eventually, if not to the bureau then to you Scully.
Scully stood and began pacing, "sir, I appreciate your comments but what
specifically are your concerns? What are <WE> dealing with here?"
"I'm not sure, I'm really not sure how they'll react to his disappearance.
Based on my previous experience with these people, I do not believe they
will receive the news of Mulder's departure well. I do not believe they will
let it rest. They need him somehow, I've never been able to completely put
the puzzle together but it's obvious from Mulder's unique family history and
the, shall we say, special handling he has received in the past that he fits
into a larger plan. I'm....I'm afraid for him Scully, I'm afraid if they
find him first that we'll never.....never get him back."
Scully was stunned, the depth of emotion in Skinner's voice shocked her. She
had always, well almost always known Skinner was in their corner but she had
not realized how connected he felt to Mulder and it appeared even to her.
For Skinner to admit fear, fear for Mulder and fear for the loss of Mulder
was more than she would have ever expected.
Reaching over to place her hand on his shoulder, "I'll find him
Walter.....we'll find him."
************ The car was pulled into a remote campsite. No sound penetrated
the deep Wisconsin woods except for the occasional deer or raccoon wandering
by. Mulder slept wrapped tightly in a ball in the back seat. A blanket and
his leather jacket kept out the night air, he'd have to remember to pick up
a sleeping bag tomorrow. He was tired, so tired, he had caught a few hours
here and there at roadside stops but today, today he knew if he didn't stop,
if he didn't take some time to get his bearings that he would make a mistake
and he could not afford to make a mistake. Along the way he had turned in
his rental at the Milwaukee Airport and then went immediately to another
counter and rented another, this time under yet another alias. He had also
changed into his jeans and a heavy flannel shirt. It was working, his plan
was working, he knew he was blending not bringing any undue attention to
himself since leaving DC, he was leaving no trail.
Earlier in the evening he had found himself sitting in a small bar just
outside of Lakewood. The food had really hit the spot, a large Reuben
sandwich made on homemade bread and chili, hot chili, he couldn't remember
the last time he had eaten such a meal. The food, a few beers, a country
western song and he found himself dozing a bit in the smokey haze of the
bar. "Can I get you another beer or maybe some nice pie for dessert," she
smiled. Mulder looked her over slowly, she was a pretty woman, dark eyes and
hair, full figured, he usually liked his woman small but....oh hell, snap
out of it Mulder, no time for that. Shaking his head no, he began to dig
into his wallet for the cash to pay the check. Cheap, hmmm., maybe he should
consider the dairy state for a while. His cash stash could keep him well
cared for quite a while here.
Standing, too quickly, he began to sway, the waitress grabbed his arm and
pulled him towards her. Leaning heavily on her now he was reluctant to let
go, not sure if he could stand on his own. Carefully she helped him sit down
again. Closing his eyes he sat back in the chair, "sorry, I guess I didn't
realize I was this tired, been on the road for a while now."
"Listen preppie," his head snapped up at that, terror in his eyes, "hey,
hey, sorry, didn't know you were so sensitive about that college background.
Anyway, let me get you some coffee to clear your head and then recommend a
nice little motel just up the road."
Mulder stood again, this time the ground stayed steady, "no, no thank you,
I've got to get back on the road." She eyed him up and down trying to
determine if it would be safe to send him off on his own. She knew the local
law and, if necessary she was sure she could get him detained enough to
catch a few hours sleep, she'd feel bad if she saw that pretty face on the
evening news being described as just another casualty of the road.
Uh oh, Mulder realized (a Scully look) , she wasn't going to let it drop,
guess he hadn't been as careful about bringing attention to himself as he
thought. "Listen," he assured her, "you're right, I'm really tired. Can you
point me in the direction of the nearest campground, I'll park and grab some
sleep." Satisfied now, she gave him directions to a small site just up the
road, sending him off with a cup of coffee and a smile, she watched out the
window to make sure he made it to his car okay. Thinking about those sad
hazel eyes and his slumped shoulders, it was obvious he was loaded down with
some heavy problems. Guess that just goes to show that money and looks ain't
everything cause if it were that boy would be happy, any fool could see he
came from money and any woman could see he had by far the most appealing
face she'd seen in a long time.
"Maggie....Maggie," the bartender shouted, "if you're though playing mother,
can you come on over here and take care of the rest of our customers!"
"Sure Dan, sorry," turning away from the window she realized that she really
was sorry, she would've liked to have been the woman he turned to for a
little comfort.
"Maggie!" "Yah Dan I'm coming, I'm coming," she rushed back to the kitchen
to get the next order.
At first Mulder was tempted to head straight out of town and drive through
the night but he knew the incident in the bar was a warning, a warning that
if he wasn't more careful he would find himself passed out only to wake up
looking at the ceiling of an
emergency room. Mulder shuddered, no, he couldn't let that happen, they
would tie him down again, touch him where he didn't want to be touched,
control every movement.......taking a deep breath he could feel the sweat
bead on his forehead. No, no he couldn't let that happen. He pulled the
truck into the campsite, signed in under Will Johnson (one of several
licenses he carried) and laid down his $5.00. Driving as far back from the
road as possible he found a little site. He thought about starting a fire
but realized he'd have to make his way back to the front to get some wood,
it wasn't really that cold so he just crawled into the back of the car,
placed his gun within reach, wrapped himself up in his blanket and drifted
off to sleep.
A sound, what was it, opening his eyes he reached for his gun only to find
himself pinned by Skinner. He was saying something that Mulder couldn't
hear, all he could feel was the blood rushing to his head as Skinner slammed
him down heavily against the seat. "No, no," moaned Mulder arms pinned at
his side, he was frozen.
"Shut up Mulder, shut the fuck up," he flipped Mulder over on his stomach
and quickly cuffed him. Grabbing the cuffs he pulled Mulder from the car not
caring that Mulder's shoulders were carrying all the burden of his weight.
Once outside the truck Skinner threw him to the ground and began to kick him
viciously, continuing to scream his frustrations out on Mulder. Suddenly the
kicking stopped, Mulder could feel his stomach heave, his recent dinner was
not going to be with him long. Moaning he attempted to shift his body away
from Skinner. Hands, strong hands held him down on the ground not allowing
him any movement. Then he froze, she was here, she would help him. "Scully,
Scully, help me...." he pleaded.
"Mulder," reaching down to gently brush the hair from his tear-stained eyes,
"Mulder, my poor Mulder, I wanted to help you but you wouldn't let me, you
ran away again, you ditched me," eyes hurt she leaned in a little closer
until her lips were so close to his ear he could feel her soft breath.
"Scully, I'm sorry, help me," he begged.
"Sorry, you're sorry Mulder, don't you worry, you don't need to be sorry,
it's obvious you didn't know what you were doing. We're going to get you
help Mulder, going to find a safe quiet place for you to get better."
He started to struggle again, terrified now, "no, no Scully, I don't want to
go there, I don't want to be locked away, don't make me go!" "Now Fox," she
smiled", " it's for your own good" and with that she pulled out a large
syringe and while they held him tightly she plunged it slowly, painfully
into his straining arm. Struggling, screaming he could feel it burn him, he
felt it travel through his body as the Black Cancer had, he felt the burning
move its' way into his stomach, up into his throat, he couldn't breath, his
throat..........
Gasping, crying, he pushed his way out of the car. Attempting to stand he
felt his head hit hard against the roof of the door, causing him to fall to
the ground bruising his shoulder. Sobbing now he crawled on his hands and
knees away from the car, away from where "they" had been. The cold air
surrounded him but he couldn't quite pull himself away from the belief that
Skinner and Scully were here, waiting to take him. In a crouch position he
surveyed the site gun in hand. This surprised him, he didn't remember
grabbing it. How long he stayed this way he didn't know, a minute, an hour,
slowly he came to the realization that he was alone, that, in fact, it had
been a nightmare. He laughed a little at that, to think he didn't know a
nightmare by now was humorous. As he started to relax he felt his stomach
flip, quickly moving to the trees. When his stomach was empty, he rolled
away. Sweating, exhausted, staring straight up through the trees at the
night sky he stared, so many stars. Right about now a UFO could stop right
above him, hover and reach down for him with a big old fish hook and he
wouldn't have been able to fight it. Wasn't it in these woods, in this area
that they had taken Max......he suddenly found himself laughing, laughing at
the irony of this whole situation, the great Mulder, the wonder boy of the
FBI, a fugitive laying flat on his back in the woods waiting for a flying
saucer to come take him away. And when he was done laughing the tears came
again, so many tears. Eventually he drifted off, laying on the cold ground,
arms flung out at his sides, offering himself up though to what he didn't
know.
************ Cold, why was it so cold, instinctively he reached for his
blanket to huddle into but found nothing. He was having a little trouble
breathing as well, nose stuffy, mouth tasted like he had been eating dirt
and other disgusting things. Slowly he opened his eyes and began to take in
the detail of his surroundings. Trees, beautiful trees everywhere, he had a
sense of being in a cathedral made only of trees. How can I be seeing trees
if I'm in my car? You can't genius, you are laying flat on your back in the
middle of the Wisconsin woods in 40 degree weather.
He wearily pushed himself up from the ground, "Mulder old man, if this is a
sign of things to come, that institution is looking better and better."
Chilled to the bone, hungry and by the smell of him, none to clean, he was a
sight. Walking slowly over to the car, he reached in and pulled out his
laptop. Booting up his Roadmap program, he quickly located his approximate
location in Wisconsin. He had been randomly driving West from DC, t was time
to make a decision, consider his options. South would take him to warmer
weather and the way his head was aching and his nose was running, he could
appreciate a little sun. North would take him up to Canada but that would
put him at risk of crossing the border and he wasn't feeling ready to do
that on his current papers. Hell, in a few months, when he was sure he had
lost them, he would consider going oversees, maybe back to London and
getting lost there, ots of places to get lost in England Maybe even
Scotland, Scotland would be good, little cottages miles away from anyone
else, he could almost see himself there. Not yet though, too much of a risk
to pull that off yet.
Okay, okay, so where am I going? For some reason the Rocky Mountains seemed
to be calling his name, he could remember having a case there and really
appreciating the area. Everyone was laid back and more importantly respected
each other's need for privacy. Decided now, he stored the route in memory,
ubbing his runny nose carelessly on his sleeve. Catching himself, he
grinned, oh yes, he'd make a good mountain man. Gas, breakfast and on the
road, in that order. The cloudy sky ndicated storms were on the way. If it
got bad, this might be a good night to hole up in a little motel, grab a hot
shower, plug in and send off an e-mail or two. Maybe he would even check
with the Lone Gunmen to see if they had any useful information for him.
Could they still be trusted?. He thought for a moment, Frohicke was in love
with Scully, was Scully low enough to use that crush to gain information on
his whereabouts? Was Frohicke strong enough to resist? Would he be strong
enough to resist such a temptation? Well that settled it, he'd have to be
very careful in his communication to the Gunmen but he couldn't completely
cut them off. He needed them, their friendship and their knowledge if he was
going to avoid discovery. The first few drops of rain began to fall.
Gathering up his things quickly, he shoved them in the back. Starting the
car, he hastily turned the heater up, he was still feeling chilled. Pointing
the car towards town, he began to drive.
"Hi honey, you're looking a little bit better today," purred Maggie. Mulder
turned to look into the smiling face of his waitress from the night before.
"Uhm, yah, took your advice and got some sleep, " looking down he realized
his clothes were pretty rumpled and, dare he admit it, he stank. "Still need
a nice hot shower though, thought I'd stop tonight and find a place to hold
up.
My goodness, even his sweat smells sexy, she thought as she leaned in close
to him. Lowering her voice to insure no one else could overhear, she
whispered "if you like, you can stop by my place and use mine. I won't even
ask for a tip."
Taking a quick step back, blushing bright red, he said , "thanks for the
offer Maggie but," stepping back further towards the register, "I really
have to go."
Turning quickly he bumped into the chest of one of the largest men he had
ever seen (and that alien Bounty Hunter had been pretty big). "Excuse me,
sorry," he apologized. Mulder looked up to see that on top of being as big
as a horse, the man was also a cop, local by the markings of his uniform.
"No problem, in a bit of a hurry are you" , asked the giant.
"Well, not really in a hurry, just anxious to get on the road, I'm running a
bit late," Mulder continued to walk towards the register as he spoke.
Casually, he pulled out some cash and paid for his gas, donuts, Sudafed,
coffee and, oh yah, can't forget the seeds. Difficult as it was, he didn't
turn to see if the cop was still there.
The giant, sensing something was not quite right with this man, started to
walk towards him. Suddenly Maggie called him over, "oh Jack, could you come
over here and help me pick out the best night crawlers for my nephew, you
know I don't know the difference between a worm and a crawler?"
Jack, understanding who was going to keep him warm that night promptly
forgot the strange young man and went over to join Maggie. Looking back just
before he left the station, Mulder met Maggie's eyes and smiled, "thanks" he
mouthed silently. She sighed and smiled in return and then returned to her
conversation with Jack wanting to give him a few more minutes to get out of
town. She wasn't quite sure what it was but something in that man's puppy
dog eyes and that incredibly sexy pout made you want to protect him from all
the bad in the world. Protect him and do a few other things to him as well,
too bad he wasn't going to be around long enough to let her try.
Mulder set the coffee in his cup holder, tossed the donuts on the seat next
to him and pulled out onto Highway 32. He swallowed two Sudafed hoping they
would help clear the fog that had begun to settle on his brain. As he began
to drive the rain fell heavily from the sky. With each swish of the
windshield he found himself pushing away memories, memories of people he
thought cared who in the end didn't, memories of a cigarette smoking man who
might be his father, memories of a father who brutally beat him and forced
the guilt and blame of Samantha onto his 12 year old shoulders. Every time a
memory became too hard, he pushed it away, pushed it to the side exactly
like those blades on his windshield. He was done with all that, he wasn't
Fox Mulder victim anymore, he was, well he was whoever the ID of the day
said he was. No one knew him, no family, no friends, no conspiracies and no
chance to hurt or be hurt by those around him because, after all, there was
no one around him. He laughed at that, squinted out at the rain -covered
road and continued to drive.
************ Mulder had been driving all day, only stopping for gas and a
plastic-wrapped sandwich he pulled out of a machine at the station. He'd
only taken a few bites before he realized it was not edible. It was about
5:30pm and though he would have liked to have kept going, his cold had
gotten progressively worse throughout the day making him miss a few of his
turn offs and causing him to backtrack a few times. He couldn't afford these
kind of mistakes and when he saw the sign for the small 12 room motel, the
car seemed to turn on it's own. Checking in under Will Jackson this time, he
paid cash for the room and pulled his car around the back of the building.
Gun stashed at his back, cash shoved down the front of his pants, his laptop
and a bag balanced on his shoulder, he headed into his room.
He was in luck, the place may be small but it was clean. A queen size bed
took up most of the room along with an older chest of drawers upon which sat
a television. He walked over and switched it on, could he get lucky enough
to find some cable? Yes, looked like things were definitely looking up, the
place must have a satellite dish. Making his way over to the temperature
setting, he turned the heat up, he couldn't quite shake the chill from his
little camping experience last night. His nose was so full he had been
forced to breath through his mouth most of the day which only lead to a sore
throat. Heading for the bathroom, he stopped and turned back to the door.
Looking around he located a chair, he carefully perched it underneath the
doorknob. The door was locked but the chair could maybe give him the extra
minute or two he would need to crawl out the back window. He didn't think
that was going to be necessary but he was not going to make any more
mistakes, that incident with the waitress in Lakewood had been a little too
close.
As he walked towards the bathroom, he began peeling off his clothes. Yikes,
he must really be ripe because those jeans were practically standing up on
their own. Standing under the shower he thanked God for motels that provided
soap and shampoo, he started by just letting the water run over him, letting
the steam fill the bathroom and clear his stuffy head, then he began to
scrub, not once, not twice but three times from head to toe. He had
forgotten how wonderful a simple shower could feel. What was it about
freedom that made you appreciate everything so much more. Stepping out of
the shower, feeling relaxed and clean, he buffed himself dry with a rather
thin white towel (what do you expect for $22.50 Mulder?).. Once dry, he
walked back into the room stark naked enjoying the additional sense of
freedom it allowed. He flashed on what Scully would think if she could see
him now and smiled, lecture, he would definitely get a lecture. Sobering
suddenly he looked towards the door almost expecting her to push through it.
He knew Skinner would have her looking for him at least for a while, he knew
she ould be a tough adversary. Scully was smart, yes she wanted to have him
locked away and that pissed him off to no end, but she was smart. She
wouldn't give up right away unless he could make her believe that he was
okay, that he was sane, that everything he did, he did not because he had
gone off the deep end but because he couldn't have survived had he stayed.
Surely she would be able to see that if he could just talk to her, without
any Skinner, without any doctors around. What about Skinner, would he be
easier to convince? If so, Skinner could pull her off, make her stop
looking, give her other cases to work on with a new partner, one she didn't
have to worry about all the time.
His stomach grumbled loudly demanding food. Last night's meal hadn't stayed
around very long. Dialing the front office he asked where the nearest pizza
place was that delivered. The lady on the phone recommended Dino's and
provided him with the number. Dialing, he ordered a large pizza, side salad
and some bottled ice tea. Reluctantly he began to dress, don't want to give
the pizza guy the wrong idea now, do we?
Two hours later, the room toasty warm, food and Sudafed resting safely in
his stomach, he stared at the screen of his laptop. He had logged onto the
Internet using one of his many account Ids, only his government account
actually lead back to him. He had sent off the following message to the Lone
Gunmen and was waiting for an answer:
-------------------------------------------------------------------
LG,
Needed some time away, decided to take a little vacation. The weather has
been a bit dark, some might even call it "Spooky".
Richard Kimble
P.S. Ran into a beautiful redhead the other day, she broke my heart. Just
goes to show you should never trust a woman with hair the color of blood.
-------------------------------------------------------------------
His mail alert beeped, Mulder accessed immediately...
Richard,
Thanks for the advice on the woman, you know that has always been my
weakness. It has been quiet here, no mutual friends have come to visit since
you we saw you last We heard the roads you travel may have some heavy fog,
can you confirm?
LG
-------------------------------------------------------------------
Mulder responded...
The further I go, the less fog I encounter. Do not be concerned, reports
indicate clear skies ahead.
Richard
-------------------------------------------------------------------

Mulder exited and re-entered under a different user name, his personal
favorite, Peter PITA...
Scully,
I heard you that night, both of you, making plans to lock me away. I was
angry at first but now, now I'm just tired. Tired of the constant debate,
the struggle to make people believe, the psychos who crawl in my head when I
drop my guard. Scully, the fact that I am writing this tells you I am alive,
I have not put a gun to my head and pulled the trigger. Contrary to yours
and Skinner's belief that night, I was not planning on ending my life. But
let ask you this Scully, what if I were? So what, it's my life not
Skinner's, not yours. It's mine to take if I feel a need. Why do you both
feel that you have a right to control me so?
I was very tired that night Scully, too many days, weeks in the mind of a
madman. That "experience" is very difficult for me, you knew that. I am not
like the other profilers, I can't keep myself apart from the horror that I
see. I am constantly amazed at the other's ability to face the horror of a
mutilated victim, to see the crime through the eyes of the killer and be
unaffected. What kind of cold, hard son-of-a bitch could see what I see,
feel what I feel and then go catch a good night's sleep.
Needless to say this is why I didn't last long in VCS. They called me
Spooky, knew that my own life was one thread away from being one of these
monsters. They see the same nightmares every day Scully and they appear to
feel nothing. Who's the sick one here, someone who feels the pain, lives the
horror of the monster or someone who feels nothing in the face of it?
Please stay away Scully, don't try to follow. Go back to Quantico, meet a
normal man and "get a life." Tell your Mom (and my Mom) good-bye.
Mulder
He inhaled harshly, refusing to feel anything, and hit the send button. Now
for Director Skinner...
-------------------------------------------------------------------

Director Walter Skinner:
This is to officially inform you of my resignation as Senior Agent in charge
of the X-files and as an agent in the Federal Bureau of Investigation. April
17, 1998 marked my final day of service to the bureau. My resignation from
the bureau releases you from any responsibility you may be feeling for my
well being. While I certainly appreciate your recent attempt to "assist me",
it is no longer necessary to do so.
Also, feel free to deduct from my last check and savings fund the cost of
the laptop and weapons provided. I have found that during some recent
activity these items have been misplaced and feel a responsibility to
personally cover the cost.
On a private note, I would like to beg a favor, please reassign Dana Scully
to Quantico. She is a brilliant teacher and pathologist and should be
allowed to excel in her field. Please don't send her to find me, doing so
could put her in danger and I can't live with that anymore.
Fox Mulder
P.S. Cheer up Skinner, think of the calendar time I just freed up now that
there'll be no more Mulder "reaming" sessions.
-------------------------------------------------------------------

Hitting the send key, Mulder then logged off. Carefully unplugging the PC
from the phone jack, he switched it off and placed it back in his case.
Placing his dirty clothes into an empty motel trash bag, he kicked it to the
side of the door. In another few days he'd need to find a Laundromat, now
that was a scary thought although he had often thought the missing sock
situation could be categorized as an X-File. He could see the report now,
aliens were stealing the individual socks due to the fact that they were
color blind (no need to match) and their feet size were uniquely different
from each other. Skinner would love that and Scully would of course counter
with a report that explained how socks often get caught within the mechanism
of the machines (like anyone would believe that a singular dryer could house
that many lost socks). But now was not the time to worry about his next
case, now he was beat. Stripping off all but his boxers, he climbed under
the covers of the bed. He reached over and switched off the light , aimed
the remote at the television and began to search for something decent or,
indecent if he were lucky. It was about 11:30pm and he knew, as tired as he
was, he wasn't ready for sleep. He channel surfed until he found the Playboy
station, lowered the sound and laid back against the pillows. Mulder drifted
off to the groans of the movie.
************
Scully was no closer to him today then the first day of her investigation.
They had checked airports and bus stations and were now hitting all the
rental car options. While she was waiting she decided to care for some of
the administrative work she'd let slip. E-mail first, she signed on to the
network. Reviewing her inbox, her eye caught on one from a Peter PITA,
curious she opened it to read.
************
Skinner, having just arrived in his office, sank gratefully into his chair.
This Mulder thing was stealing a lot of sleep from him. Reaching for the
coffee on his desk, he started his day as he usually did, reading over his
new mail. Scanning the inbox he saw a message from an unfamiliar name, "who
the hell is Peter PITA?"
----------------------------------------------------------------------------
---- Director Walter Skinner:
This is to officially inform you of my resignation as Senior Agent in charge
of the X-files and as an agent in the Federal Bureau of Investigation......
Fox
Mulder ---------------------------------------------------------------------
-----------
Skinner wasn't sure what he was feeling, his emotions seemed to leap from
relief that Mulder was still alive, anger at his resignation being given in
so insolent a manner and bitter humor over his last statement. Mulder, he
thought, you don't know what a good reaming is.
"What was with the name though, Peter PITA, where did that come from," mused
Skinner aloud.
"Pain In The Ass," said Scully, standing in his office door.
"Excuse me Agent Scully."
"PITA stands for Pain In The Ass, leave it to Mulder to inject humor into
this situation." She dropped a copy of her e-mail on Skinner's desk for him
to read.
Skinner looked up after reading through it, rubbed his fingers absently
across his forehead, "it doesn't take a psychologist to feel how angry and
upset he is. He's actually trying to convince you that it's normal for him
to want to take his own life." Standing up, he began to pace, "but Scully,
he does have a point."
"What point is that, sir", she asked.
"Well, he's very convincing in this argument regarding being a profiler.
I've often wondered myself how a person could do that job and remain
unaffected. Why do we get so upset when Mulder feels everything so deeply?"
Moving closer to her now, he questioned, "tell me Scully, what caused this,
surely it can't be our conversation only. Mulder's been threatened with this
type of treatment in the past and has always been allowed to avoid it if he
felt very strongly about it. We're missing something here, what are we
missing?"
"Sir, I think overhearing our conversation was just the final straw When you
look at his life over the last 4-6 months, we should have been able to see
it coming. Samanatha was just the beginning and as hard as I tried to keep
the total autopsy reports from him, I found out yesterday that he had
accessed them and read every word right before we went off on this last
case. He also broke into my desk nd took her file with him. And sir, this
last case was," she paused, looking for the right words, "horrible, ghastly,
obscene in its' detail. Mulder profiled this monster down to the donuts he
liked to eat after he was through with his sacrifices. Mulder WAS that
monster, but this monster had little emotion and so Mulder just locked
himself away in his head, calm, cool, no rage, no loss of control this time.
There were times I would have preferred Mulder with a touch of madness than
the cold man he became during this last case.
"Sir... Walter, I think he just broke, I think he just couldn't see himself
continuing here. I believe in order to survive he needed to let people get
close and help him through it and in the end, that was what scared him most.
After all, when, in Mulder's history, has he ever trusted someone, opened
himself up and not been betrayed?"
"We didn't betray him Scully."
"No", she agreed, " but to him it appeared that we did and you know what
they say about perception being reality."
They sat quietly for a while, finding some comfort from their guilt in each
other's company. It was strange for her to be here without him. If , no,
WHEN they found him, would they ever be able to return to the life they had
or would the damage be unable to be repaired?
"Any new leads Scully," Skinner asked.
"Waiting sir, just waiting, hoping to get something soon." Standing, she
smoothed her skirt and walked to the door.
************
Mulder awoke clawing at his neck, gasping for air. He had been dreaming,
seeing images of what they may have done to Sam before she died. Pushing the
covers away, he eased himself into a sitting position on the side of the
bed. His head was pounding again, his nose was stuffy, eyes runny, "enough,"
he demanded out loud, "enough of feeling like this, enough of these damn
nightmares." He headed to the bathroom, stripping off his boxers just before
he entered the shower. The water was cold and sliced into him like tiny
razor blades. It hurt, but it was a hurt he could identify and understand,
he liked this pain. Stepping out of the shower, he brushed and shaved
quickly. Dressing in fresh clothes, he tossed his dirty laundry in the
corner along with his other bags. Scanning the room one more time, he threw
his luggage in his car and headed to the office to check out. Feeling
somewhat refreshed after his 6 hours of sleep, Mulder once again began to
drive.
************
Skinner was startled by the click of his office door, it was very late, who
was still here?
"Who is it," he called out right before he caught a whiff of the odor. The
odor he had come to hate.
"Walter, so good to see you again," the cigarette-smoking man stepped into
the room.
"What do you want," Skinner asked, already knowing the answer.
"Well, Walter, my associates and I were curious as to the progress that was
being made in locating Agent Mulder. They are very anxious to be of
assistance should your efforts fail," he took another drag on his cigarette.
"I, we will not fail, there is no need for any additional assistance in
locating Mulder at this time," Skinner stated coldly.
"Are you sure Walter, it would be very disappointing for us to lose Mulder
at this point in the game. As you have always suspected, he has a place in
our future plans."
"Why don't you take the time to explain what that place is," pushed Skinner.
"Now, now Walter, what fun would that be? The pleasure of the game is in the
playing, not in knowing who will win or......lose." Leaning in now he
whispered, "where is our boy, where would he have run?"
"We don't know yet but we have several leads that we expect to come through
anytime now."
"I've heard some interesting rumors Walter, perhaps you can clear them up?"
Skinner nodded for him to continue. "I heard Mulder was upset when he left,
I heard that he may have been ill, something about a knife in his back," he
smiled fully now.
Skinner choked with rage, "he was ill, he was burnt out and we were planning
on helping him as we have always helped him in the past. This time he didn't
want any help, this time we underestimated how much pain he was in." Needing
to throw off the bastard, he pressed on, " you know what his capabilities
are, this is not just another missing persons case. This is truly a game of
Fox and Hound and in this case the Fox is very sly and crafty. He knows the
rules and he knows how to break them. He's made contact with us that we
cannot track back to him, he's operating under an assumed identity," pausing
for affect, " perhaps more than one. Looking over the details of his exit
it's obvious he has considered doing this or something very much like it for
a long time just in case he had a need to disappear." Skinner stepped up to
this man and looked him squarely in the eye, "how about you, what do you
know about Mulder that I don't know, what can you tell me that can assist me
in finding him?"
Slowly reaching down to snuff out his cigarette, the man smiled. "I will see
what I can find that may help you in this endeavor Walter but, if I do, what
would I get in return?"
"You bastard, you get exactly what you want, the whereabouts of one Fox
Mulder!"
Walking towards the door the man turned, "oh yes, there is that." The door
shut quietly behind him.
Skinner slammed his fist against the closed door, slammed it hard several
times before he could feel the pain. Pain was good, pain made you think more
clearly, "Mulder, where the hell are you?"
************
Several hundred miles out of Boulder, Mulder had ditched his rental car in
an airport parking lot. From there he dragged his bags to the nearest bus
stop and took it into the downtown area. He then hailed a cab and asked to
be driven across town to a remote pick up site for the next bus out of town.
There he loaded a bus headed for Boulder. The bus was mostly empty so he
tossed his bags on the seat next to him, leaned against the window and
watched the land slide by. He didn't doze, he wanted to, but he still felt
extremely wary. Mulder sneezed, "damn, I hate being sick."
************
Maggie pulled into the front of the local police building and turned the car
off. Reaching over the seat she grabbed the basket with the lunch she had
made for Jack. "He aint' much," she mumbled, "but he's the best I'm going to
do in this town. Besides," she smiled, "there's a lot to be said for a big
man." Humming she made her way into the building.
Jack was busy on the phone so, nosy as usual, she began to read the board he
always kept with recent updates. She gasped, stepping back suddenly from the
picture hanging on the wall. Jack, noticing her reaction, ended his call and
immediately joined her.
"What is it Maggie?" She turned and eyed him up and down, could it be he
didn't know it?
"Jack, this picture, this man, what did he do?"
Jack pulled down the notice, remembering he had just hung it up yesterday.
"Honestly Maggie, I'm not sure but whatever it was he must be pretty
dangerous. My instructions are to NOT approach him and to call the FBI if I
catch sight of him." Thinking she was concerned for his well being, he
patted her gently on the shoulder and soothed, "don't you worry Maggie, I
can take care of myself."
"So, you're saying that this man is so dangerous they don't want a regular
cop to approach him?"
A little stung by her use of the term regular cop, he pouted, "Maggie he's
probably a serial killer or something, they don't put out this kind of stuff
unless the guys a psycho or something."
That little piece of news had settled it in her head. He may have been
pretty but she was not going to be responsible for a serial killer going
uncaught. "Jack, don't you remember, this is the guy who bumped into you at
the pumps a few days ago." She had Jack's full attention now, "you remember
honey, your instincts must be really good because it was obvious you were
going to give him the third degree. I, I felt sorry for him because he
looked so tired and sick so I called you over to help me pick out the night
crawlers, do you remember now Jack?"
"Shit, shit, shit, shit," was all he could think to say as he dialed the
number on the notice.
************
Scully stopped by Skinner's office to give him an update on current informat
ion. She was scheduled to fly out in a few hours but wanted to keep Skinner
in the loop. He was in a meeting but ended it abruptly at her arrival.
"What have you got Scully?"
"First, it appears he began his trip by renting a car. He did so through a
low budget dealer less than two miles from his apartment", she shook her
head at this still not believing she had missed something so obvious. "The
car was returned and a new one picked up at the AVIS counter in Milwaukee,
WI." She paused, scanning the rest of her notes. "He rented the first car
under Will Johnson and the second under Will Jackson, interesting how close
the names were, " she mused, "he obviously planned the use of the fake Ids
in the past, they are different but very close allowing for less mistakes on
his part in forgetting his name." Funny, she thought, a man with a
photographic memory concerned about forgetting his name.
"Anything else Scully," Skinner asked.
"Yes sir, possibly, I'm flying into the Lakewood, Wisconsin area this
morning to question a local sheriff on a possible sighting. He saw the alert
I put out and called in just a short time ago."
Skinner gathered a few files and threw them in his brief case. Grabbing his
coat, he asked, "what are we waiting for Scully, let's go."
"Sir, I didn't realize you would be traveling with me."
"We need to find him Scully, there's little time to waste here."
Scully wasn't sure whether to be insulted or complimented by Skinner's
offer, shrugging, she picked up her coat and f followed him out. "Don't say
I didn't warn you sir," she called.
Skinner turned, "about what?"
Smirking now, "the plane, it's a four seater, it's the only thing that can
get me close to Lakewood."
"I served in Vietnam Scully, how bad could it be?"
With that they headed out to catch their flight.
************

Continue in part 2

Feedback means everything to an author. (Nicole Van Dam)
Feedback makes the world go round. (Nicole Perry)
Feedback makes the world a better place for you and me. (Krikkit)
Feedback: I hear it's what makes this writing thing worthwhile. (Narida Law)

SEND FEEDBACK TO: karoshi12@email.com

Archived by "The City of Stars" http://digilander.iol.it/xbellatrix/
Fluffy Trophy 1999 by Melody Morgan Carter (xmcarter@libero.it)