From drjudd@rainbow.net.au Fri Aug 30 08:41:36 1996
OFFSPRING
DESLEA R. JUDD
drjudd@rainbow.net.au
Copyright 1996
DISCLAIMER
This book is based on The X Files, a creation of Chris Carter owned by
him, Twentieth Century Fox, and Ten-Thirteen Productions. Fox Mulder,
Dana Scully, Walter Skinner, and a number of lesser characters including
Bill Mulder, Mrs Mulder, Samantha Mulder and her clones, Maggie Scully,
Melissa Scully, Captain Scully, Sharon Skinner, Kimberly Cooke, the
Cigarette Smoking (Cancer) Man, the Well Manicured Man and his offsider,
Frohike, Quiqueg, Gautier, Jean Gautier, Ellen, and Alex Krycek remain the
intellectual property of those parties. A number of other characters are
the author's creation and are copyright, and may not be used without her
written permission. These include but are not limited to Dr Karen
Koettig, Agent Grbevski, Melissa Samantha Scully, Grace Skinner, Clone 1
(Cynthia), Clone 3 (Carolyn), Clone 4 (Catherine), Dr Sam Fieldman, Dr
Paul Sturrock, Dr Marion Pieterse, Wendy Tomiris, Serena Ingleburn,
Amarette, Dr Jillian Maitz, Hallie, and Emily Trent. Any queries
concerning ownership of minor characters not mentioned here should be
directed to the author.
(See Pt 1 for complete spoiler, content, and comments info).
A few spoilers from Pilot, Duane Barry, Ascension, One Breath, Colony,
Endgame, Anasazi, Blessing Way, Paper Clip, Nisei, 7.31, Piper Maru,
Apocrypha, and Avatar.
I've rated this book R just to be on the safe side, but I think it's more
PG-13, in truth. There's some low-level sex (three scenes, more
emotional than anatomical), low-level bad language, low-level violence,
and that's about all.
Comments, good and bad, are welcome; but make sure they're constructive,
please! My e-mail is drjudd@rainbow.net.au, but don't worry if you see
something else in your "reply" header like magna.com, because Rainbow.Net
shares a server with another ISP called MagnaData. And if you think my
work's worth stealing, I'm flattered; but don't even think about it.
Archivists, feel free to add this to your collections; but be sure to let
me know.
OFFSPRING BY DESLEA R. JUDD (4/18)
TWO
Basement
Federal Bureau of Investigation
Washington, D.C.
October 29, 1996
The phone rang.
Mulder picked it up. "Mulder," he barked peremptorily, as was his
habit when he was in the middle of something. He listened, jotting down
the occasional note. "We'll be right there."
He momentarily replaced the receiver, then picked it up again and
dialled Scully's extension. "Scully? We've got what sounds like an X
File. Can you meet me downstairs? I'll tell you about it on the way."
Mulder reached his car just moments later, with Scully right behind
him. "You seem excited," she observed. "What's the story?"
"Spontaneous combustion. A scientist in a Government lab across town."
"Do we have a name?" she asked, wincing as they drove out of the
carpark into the sunlight.
Mulder nodded. "Paul someone...Sturrock," he amended, glancing down
at his notes.
Scully flinched. "Don't do that when you're driving. The name is
familiar. I've got a feeling he's caught up in DNA research."
"DNA and therapeutic radiation," Mulder agreed. "I don't know the
specifics."
She nodded in memory. "That's right...the effects of radiotherapy, X
ray technology, and the like on genetics and chromosomes. He's something
of an expert in the field. He's pretty young, I think - I saw him at an
occasional address he gave at Maryland U once - but he seems to have been
around forever. He's supposed to be quite brilliant."
"Brilliant people are usually a pain in the neck," Mulder observed
with a mischievous glance at her.
"You'd know," she shot back, but she acknowledged the backhanded
compliment with a goodnatured smile. She drew a chocolate from her purse
and opened it. "Lunch," she said briefly between bites.
"You?" he asked, aghast.
"It's all I can keep down," she said ruefully. "It's hell."
Mulder snorted. "Sounds like heaven to me. Legitimised indulgence."
Scully gave him a withering look. "O coronary candidate."
He was just about to fire a comeback when he saw a large white
building to their right. "I think that's it."
"What, you think the eight cop cars outside give it away?" she asked,
tucking the empty wrapper back into her purse. She opened the door as he
turned off the engine and suddenly recoiled. She could feel the candy
repeating on her at the smell of molten human flesh. She held the door
handle a moment before steadying herself and getting out.
Mulder, for his part, didn't need to be pregnant to lose his lunch.
Luckily he hadn't yet had any. They walked together through the police
cordon, flashing their badges as they went. Over the charred scar of
ashes on the pavement was the familiar white painted body outline, but it
was different, somehow. He couldn't put his finger on it.
"It's too small," Scully said. Her glance caught some movement at
her right. "And there's why."
The paramedics wheeled the gurney past them, the body bag half open.
The body inside was charred beyond recognition, its humanity discernible
only by its vague shape. Now Mulder gripped her arm, fighting the impulse
to dry retch.
Scully smiled indulgently. Having coped with the smell, her
scientific self had returned. "Count backwards. It will pass."
Mulder obliged, and she was right: it <> pass. They heard a
commotion behind them, and they turned to see a woman in her early forties
arguing with a police officer at the cordon. She was crying. By unspoken
agreement, they approached the two of them. But suddenly, she turned away
and sat down on the grass, weeping bitterly.
"Agent Dana Scully, and this is my partner, Agent Mulder," Scully
said briefly. "FBI. Who is that?"
The cop nodded at them. "Superintendent Colin Chetton. Her name's
Marion Pieterse. She worked with Sturrock."
"Girlfriend?" Mulder asked.
Chetton shook his head. "Just colleagues...friends. They go back
decades, though." At Scully's surprised look, he added by way of
explanation, "I did some moonlighting on security staff here a few years
back. I don't know that many people here, but Pieterse and Sturrock are a
bit of an institution. They're the longest-serving staff here. They
couldn't have been here more than twenty years, I suppose - they're only
in their forties at a guess - but they're almost part of the furniture.
I'd say-"
Chetton never did say whatever it was that he'd say, because quite
suddenly, Marion Pieterse exploded in flames. Scully reached her first
and tore off her coat, throwing it and herself over the woman, trying to
smother the flames. She could feel a horrible, choking sensation as the
smoke invaded her, and then she felt Mulder's hands on her shoulders,
trying to drag her off. Someone came with a hose and drenched the two
women with it, and it was over as quickly as it had begun.
Scully removed the remains of her coat from the steaming woman,
careful not to take any skin with it. She gasped involuntarily.
Pitiful, understanding eyes peered out from the ruined face. Marion
Pieterse's hair was nothing but charcoal, her body a blackened lump. But
mercifully, she was alive, and mercilessly, conscious. She didn't cry
out, but she whimpered in agonising pain.
"Get those paramedics back," she told Chetton. "We've got third
degree burns here. This woman has to be sedated and taken to hospital."
They waited for a few moments, and Scully realised the woman was
trying to take her hand. "Don't," she said, incredibly gently. "You'll
disturb the skin...make the burns worse." But the woman persisted, and
against her better judgement, she tentatively took her hand. It was like
holding a crumbling leaf.
The paramedics arrived and took control of the woman, and Scully
started to rise. One of them frowned at her. "No, you don't," a man in
his early twenties said sternly. "You're burnt, too."
Scully looked down at herself for the first time then, and realised
the front of her suit was badly charred. Mulder looked at her in horror,
but she shook her head. "Don't fret, Mulder. It looks worse than it is.
It doesn't even hurt, not really. It's probably first degree."
The paramedic was gently pulling away the charred fabric around her
midsection. The skin was slightly pink, but that was all. "You're
right," he said grudgingly, "it is first degree - at least there. Go over
to the ambulance and have them take a closer look, okay?"
Scully complied. After much examination and bandaging, Mulder poked
his head around the door. "How're you doing?"
Scully looked down ruefully at the remains of her suit. "Not so well
as my dressmaker, I'm afraid. Do you think I might swing a clothes
allowance at my next salary review?" Mulder took off his jacket and gave
it to her. She put it on and buttoned it around her, rendering her at
least halfway decent. "I'm fine. First degree, like I said. It's a big
area, but it will heal within days. Until then, I've just got to avoid
bumping into anything. That's about the only time it hurts."
Mulder's look was concerned. "It could have been a lot worse,
Scully. That woman had third degree burns all over her, and there was
only the coat between you. You were lucky - damned lucky."
"Yes, it could. But it wasn't. Don't get protective on me, Mulder.
It doesn't suit you."
"I'm not. I'm just saying, be careful." He paused. "I spoke to the
witnesses. It was the same with Sturrock as with Pieterse. No-one was
within six feet of him, and he sure as hell didn't set fire to himself -
at least not in the conventional sense. It can only be spontaneous human
combustion."
Scully was dubious. "Mulder, doesn't it strike you as odd that two
best friends who have lived in one another's pockets since graduation - if
not the first grade, for all we know - should spontaneously combust within
an hour of each other? I mean, we're not talking the flu here. It isn't
contagious, and it isn't common. Something is wrong here."
"Could it be related to their work?"
She frowned. "We need more information to know that. I can tell you
one thing, though," she added. "It wasn't spontaneous human combustion in
its typical manifestations - not with the woman, at least. Normally, you
can't put out a victim with water or by smothering. They just keep on
burning until there's nothing left. But although Marion Pieterse was
badly burnt, we did put her out."
"What about Sturrock? Can we find out?"
Scully nodded. "I'll do the autopsy. If it's SHC, his internal
organs will be burned to a crisp. If it's just his skin and the tissues
near the surface, it's got to be something else."
Mulder gave her a sudden grin. "It's not like you to be a believer,
Scully."
She shrugged noncommitally. "SHC is well documented, however rare.
Most of the cases are related to an external fire source - cigarettes, or
heat in a poorly ventilated area. There are a few cases like these,
though, which occurred in open areas. We do have electrical impulses in
our body. I'm perfectly prepared to accept that a person can overload
just like a powerpoint." She paused. "But that doesn't mean I'm prepared
to write off the fact that these two people who were so close went up in
flames together, as well. That's too much of a coincidence for my
liking."
"And mine," Mulder agreed. "Come on, Scully. You've got an autopsy
to do."
Scully pulled a face. "And clothes to ceremonially bury."
"Why bother?" he asked. "They're already cremated."
She groaned goodnaturedly, and they left together.
Morgue
Federal Bureau of Investigation
Washington, D.C.
October 29, 1996
"Well?"
Scully took off her mask. "No internal burning. Some changes due to
the overall rise in body temperature, but Sturrock wasn't set alight from
within." She sat down. "That having been said, however, the source of
his burns, whatever it was, was pretty powerful. Human flesh doesn't burn
that quickly or that thoroughly on its own. It's almost as if he'd been
doused in some sort of flammable liquid."
Mulder raised an eyebrow. "And was he?"
She shook her head. "Absolutely not." She paused. "Did you come up
with anything? Any other links between them?"
He shrugged, suddenly noncommittal. "It's hard to know. Those two
have been other half to one another for decades. Naturally they have
shared acquaintances, at times shared homes, shared contacts...I don't
know."
Scully frowned. "Are you sure they weren't involved? Not even in
the past?"
"Quite sure. Pieterse's a lesbian."
Scully considered. "That still doesn't rule the possibility out. My
cousin's gay, and he had quite a few heterosexual relationships - trying
to conform, mostly. Given that these two have known each other since at
least their early twenties, that seems quite likely."
"But would they still be best friends? I mean, it's tough breaking
up with someone, but it's a lot tougher to be dumped for the other camp."
"No pun intended," she said with a sudden grin. "Well, what else?
It looks like it's down to their work."
Mulder negatived this. "No go. They haven't been working on
anything sinister. Their work seems completely benign and above board.
They both could conceivably have been exposed to the same substance or
toxin which provided the conditions for the combustion, but frankly, I'm
starting to doubt even that."
"Even further back in the past?" Scully asked.
"I went back twenty years. Not a hint of anything untoward." He
paused. "There were only two things which are a little strange." She
looked at him, questioningly.
"The first is that both of their personnel files list their dates of
birth as unknown. It's true that they could be wartime babies, when a lot
of records were lost, which would make them both a little older than we
thought - but wearing your age well isn't a crime, is it? Just the same,
it seems a little too coincidental that that's the case for them both.
The other thing is that they seem to share more than friends and a car
pool."
"What, they're distant relatives or something?"
"Or something. There was a pretty young lab technician who worked
closely with them both a year ago. Wendy Tomiris. She seems to have been
burning the candle at both ends. She's been involved with them both."
Mulder grinned. "The family that plays together, stays together."
"Did they fall out over her?" Scully asked.
"Aparrently not. They seem to have reached some kind of
understanding concerning Tomiris. According to the office grapevine, both
Sturrock and Pieterse have been seeing her ever since, with each other's
full knowledge and consent. It all seems very civilised."
"Or pathological," Scully observed dryly. "Is Tomiris still there?"
Mulder shook his head. "She now works at the Kuringai Power Plant on
the west end of town. She's on the nuclear side of things...first nuclear
medicine, then nuclear power."
"Shall we go and meet Ms Tomiris?" Scully asked, untying her scrubs
and hanging them up.
"Sounds like a plan."
They were halfway out of the building when Mulder's cellular
telephone rang. He flipped it open. "Mulder...of course." He tapped
Scully's shoulder and stopped. "I see...yes, we'll be there...thanks."
She looked at him. "Yes?"
"That was Kim Cooke. Skinner wants to see us."
Scully nodded and turned back towards his office. "Any idea why?"
Mulder shook his head. "Not a clue. I don't think I've done
anything wrong this week." His record had a reprimand for every accolade.
"You haven't been uncovering government conspiracies again, have
you?" she asked, mock-stern.
"No, Ma, I promise."
Skinner met them at the door and showed them in. "Agents Mulder and
Scully, thank you for stopping in."
"Of course, Sir. What can we do for you?"
Skinner threw a folder down on his desk in disgust. "You can start
by telling me how Agent Scully came to have burns to thirty percent of her
body, Agent Mulder."
"Bad news travels fast," he observed. "A material witness exploded
in flames. Scully was the first one there. She saved the woman's life.
I might add that Scully's injuries may be extensive, but they are also
minor. First degree burns, Sir - no different to scalding your hand doing
the washing up."
"Doing the washing up rarely involves burns to thirty percent of
one's body," Skinner retorted. "And it's only sheer luck that they were
minor - the victim had third degree burns, I understand."
Mulder's brow creased with confusion. "Sir, am I to understand that
I'm being reprimanded because Agent Scully sustained minor injuries in the
course of doing her job according to appropriate protocols?"
Skinner relented. "No, Agent Mulder. But I did want to call you
both in here to tell you that as of now, Agent Scully is removed from
active duty." He turned to Scully, whose jaw had dropped. "You will
remain assigned to the X Files and you may assist Agent Mulder in your
medical capacity, and in any non-conflict questionings. I make those
concessions to preserve the integrity of the X Files. But interrogations,
work at crime scenes, and the like are to be done with backup from one of
the free-floaters downstairs. There are to be no repeats of this kind of
incident."
Mulder's look was one of outrage, but Scully's was sheer
astonishment. "Sir, may I ask why?" Her voice was even, but she was
simmering with rage.
Skinner shot Mulder a look, then said, "Agent Scully, you are
pregnant. I'm not having a pregnant woman getting burnt and shot and God
knows what else. It's dangerous and unnecessary, especially when we have
relief personnel who can cover in these situations. And that's quite
aside from the liability issue should you lose your child as a result of
your duties."
Scully got to her feet. "Sir, with respect, I really don't think
you've given this adequate consideration."
Skinner got to his. "Agent Scully, I really don't think you're in a
position to argue."
She lost her temper then. "Damn it, Walter," she snapped furiously,
"this isn't because I'm pregnant; it's because I'm pregnant to you." He
glanced at Mulder, who turned and stared at her, aghast. She didn't
notice. "How dare you use your position against me!"
"You're speaking to a superior officer," he warned without conviction.
"You stopped being my superior when you pulled rank over a personal
agenda," she threw back in disgust. She turned on her heel and paced for
a second. "I could appeal the decision," she pointed out.
Skinner nodded. "You could," he agreed, "but you won't. You would
probably be reassigned - either that, or responsibility for the X Files
would be reassigned on the grounds of conflict of interest, probably back
to the Violent Crimes Unit. Either way, parties with interests other than
our own would have an opening to strategically place people less
sympathetic to your work than you or I. You go above my head on this,
Dana, and you'll cut your own throat."
"You're threatening me?" she demanded.
"Call it a word to the wise." He paused. "I'm not backing down on
this, Dana. It's too important." She turned away in disgust and made for
the door. Mulder followed. "Dana?" he called after her. She turned.
"I'm sorry," he said gently.
"So am I, Walter," she spat. "So am I."
Basement
Federal Bureau of Investigation
Washington, D.C.
October 29, 1996
Mulder and Scully returned to Mulder's office in silence. He
motioned her to enter first, followed her, then deliberately closed the
door behind them. Scully waited for the inevitable storm.
"Why didn't you tell me it was Skinner?" Mulder's voice wasn't just
angry, it was furious.
"It was none of your business," she said, evenly.
"The hell it wasn't! We work together under him...pardon the pun."
Scully winced, and not just at his bitterness. The comment cheapened what
she had felt for Walter that night, what she still felt...it robbed what
they had had of its beauty. Her concern for Mulder was suddenly
overshadowed by bitterness. She could never be with Walter. That beauty,
that memory was all she had left. And Mulder, damn him, couldn't even let
her keep that.
But the qualification wasn't a leveller. If anything, it made Mulder
angrier. Scully and Skinner...his best friend and one of their closest
allies. He suddenly pictured the two of them together. He felt
excluded. "This affects me, too. This case alone is proof of that." His
volume was rising.
Something in his voice warned Scully that he was close to the edge.
Never especially stable, Mulder felt things deeply. She endeavoured to
diffuse the situation. "I do believe you're jealous," she teased.
Mulder was not appeased. It was true, albeit not as she meant it.
And because she had hit a nerve, he hit one back. "Damn it, Scully,
you've exposed the X Files to danger," he snapped crossly.
Her own temper flared. "Damn you to hell, Mulder!" She paused, for
maximum effect. "And damn the X Files, too." Mulder winced.
She turned on her heel and stormed out.
Assistant Director's Office
Federal Bureau of Investigation
Washington, D.C.
October 29, 1996
Kimberly Cooke knocked, then poked her head around the door. "Sir,
Agent Mulder would like to see you."
Skinner raised his head from his work. "Send him in," he said,
wearily. He got to his feet.
"Thank you for seeing me, Sir."
Skinner waved the courteous greeting aside. Coming from Mulder, it
only served to make him nervous. "Take a seat, Agent Mulder," he said,
and did so himself.
Mulder sat, and shifted uncomfortably. "Sir," he began awkwardly, "I
wanted to speak with you about what happened this morning."
Skinner raised a hand. "I'm sorry you had to witness that, Agent
Mulder. I was out of line, and so was Agent Scully. I should have spoken
with her privately on the matter."
Mulder shook his head. "Sir, that's not what I mean. I wanted to
talk to you about your decision to remove Agent Scully from active duty."
Skinner stiffened. "I have made my decision, Agent Mulder."
Mulder said evenly (and it was an evenness he didn't feel), "With
respect, Sir, I don't think you have made your decision on strategic
grounds - either professionally or personally."
"What the hell is that supposed to mean? If you're referring to the
fact that my decision is based on my own fears for the safety of the baby,
off the record I will tell you that you're quite right. I make no
apologies for that. On the record I will say only that pregnant personnel
on active duty add to the risk factors involved. I have exercised my
powers of discretion in allowing Agent Scully to remain assigned to the X
Files, but I will not allow her to participate in situations of conflict
or danger."
Mulder said gently, "Sir, that's not your decision to make."
He lost his temper then. "The hell it's not, Mulder! This is my
child, too!" Skinner got to his feet and turned away. The anger left his
voice as quickly as it had arisen, but he remained resolute. "Agent
Mulder, I've lost two wives. I've lost a daughter. I'm not losing anyone
else if it can be avoided."
"Are you speaking of Agent Scully, or the child she's carrying?"
Skinner turned back to face him. "I'm speaking of them both." He
sat down, finality in his expression.
"Sir, when I said that this wasn't a strategic decision, I did mean
it professionally, but I also meant it personally. Agent Scully doesn't
want to be protected," Mulder said cautiously. "She wants to be
respected. You used to respect her in her judgement and her actions. Now
you have an involvement with her, and you're trying to take away her
autonomy and her freedom. For God's sake, you're trying to take away the
very thing you love her for!" He paused. "Sir, you have to stop letting
your feelings for Agent Scully influence your decisions. If you don't,
someone will get hurt. You're getting protective and she's getting
defensive. You're working at cross purposes. And one day, it's going to
cost one or both of you your lives - either that," he added with a wry
grin, "or mine."
Skinner's brown furrowed. "So what do you suggest I do, Mulder?
Just send her into the line of fire?"
"Damn it, yes! She's not a little kid you can protect; you know
that! She's an adult, and an officer in the FBI. She serves her country,
as we do, with all its risks. And that is her right." He paused. "Just
trust her! Don't you trust her to do what's right for her? And your
child? Don't you think she would die to allow that child to live?"
"Yes, I do," Skinner conceded. "And that's exactly what I'm afraid
of." He paused. "How do you do it, Mulder? Watch her just saunter into
danger? You love her - how do you do it?"
Mulder said in a low voice, "It does frighten me when I see her in
danger - I admit that. I do it because I respect her. I respect that she
knows what is right for her better than I do. I respect her the way you
<> to."
Skinner was silent for a long time. Finally, he turned in his chair
to face the window. "That will be all, Agent Mulder."
Mulder rose. "Sir-"
"I said, that will be all." Skinner waited until the door opened.
"Mulder?"
Mulder stopped in his tracks. "Yes, Sir?"
"Thank you."
Coming In Part 5: Skinner Gets Wise/Marion Pieterse's Flame/Pieterse Shuts Up
--
_______________________________________
| |
|Deslea R. Judd (drjudd@rainbow.net.au) |
|"The Owls Are Not What They Seem" |
| - The Log Lady, Twin Peaks) |
|_______________________________________|
(
geocities.com/hollywood)