Truce
Chapter Fourteen
Disclaimer, etc. in Headers
"They're all here," Mulder breathed, his eyes
darting to and fro, excitement palpable in his
face. "Looks like the second string stepped up
after El Rico."
"I see Balfour and Dupont." Scully, despite her
burgeoning hope, spoke with typical caution.
She'd like nothing better than to follow Mulder's
leap and make the association to the old
Consortium, but she couldn't. Not even with
Kersh's conjecture that these men *were* a new
part of the old past, one which had ultimately
sent her on this mission. A few other names
popped out as worldwide mover and shakers, and
she held her breath, scanning quickly for
Robert's name. On first inspection, the
directory didn't implicate him, and she relaxed.
Though she wasn't all that sure she was relieved
to find his name missing from the list, she felt
certain his inclusion would have been more
disturbing somehow. "But why would Dupont keep
something like this in his safe?"
"Security." Mulder paused, looking up at her. He
needed a hair trimming, she noted absently. "It
makes sense to have a backup plan, in case he's
left out in the cold one day."
"You realize this is by no means an indictment of
their duplicity," she warned, resisting the urge
to smooth a wayward lock of silky brown which
refused to lie down. It was with a sad heart she
noticed the profusion of gray among the dark
strands. She knew the stress of the past months
had taken their toll, on both of them. But
Mulder in particular seemed rejuvenated by her
willingness to stay. Renewed resolve to see him
happy made her concentrate - the only way to see
this through to a satisfying end was to work as a
team. Which meant she played her part, as logic
dictated. "This could be his Christmas list for
all we know."
"True. But I bet we could come up with a
legitimate connection among them - in other
words, their cover organization." He squirmed in
his seat, already fidgeting to attack the
Internet for information. "I'd bet my last dollar
these men sit on the board of some bogus
corporation."
She nodded, knowing it was likely Mulder was
right. Money to finance an operation on the
global scale of facilitating alien colonization
needed clean origins and even more spotless
destinations. Still, she knew Mulder well enough
to demand, "We let Bombay nose around, okay? No
intrusion from our end, not even electronically."
Mulder debated the point for a moment. "Scully,
I'm set up with so many firewalls this room could
be lined with asbestos."
"We wait." She dared him to argue further, her
eyes steely.
Sighing, he turned back to the laptop. "I'm at
least going to make a back up copy to the hard
drive."
"I think that's a good idea," she agreed, finally
letting her fingers sift through his hair. He
didn't look up, but his grin of pleasure at her
touch rippled through his scalp. As he copied
the directory to his hard drive, she pulled her
hand away to point at some extraneous information
culled in a generic file. "What's this?"
"Dunno. Let me print up this list, then we'll
see if we can open it." A few clicks later, the
file sprung to life, its contents displayed in
the default word processor. "Looks like garbage.
Even Bombay's genius can't pull everything from
some files."
It was mostly machine language, with a few words
interspersed among the jumbled characters. "Let
me sit a minute, Mulder."
He let her have the mouse and chair, intent on
the printed list of names. Scully wordlessly
scrolled down the mangled file, stopping here and
there when something caught her eye. "Looks like
Dupont tried to get rid of this one," she mused,
her mind concentrating on the words she was able
to pick out of the endless string of characters.
"I've seen messes like this on previously deleted
files."
"Could be," Mulder mumbled at her side, his hands
furiously going through page after page of
biographical and financial information. She knew
who he was searching for, and waited for him to
find out what she'd already seen. "Hey Scully -
you know who's name I *don't* see here?"
Cocking an eyebrow in his direction, she answered
dryly, "Robert's?"
At that, Mulder pursed his lips. "Besides
Luquet's," he growled with a narrow-eyed look,
his disappointment making her grin. He *had*
been looking for Robert. "Strughold. You'd
think the top dog would get first billing, huh?"
"Not necessarily." Keeping one eye on the screen,
she pointed out the obvious. "He may be one of
those other names. He may not be on there at
all, preferring to keep his association with
these men a secret."
"So could Luquet," he replied, his smart-ass
drawl accompanied by a lift of his brow. This
time, he dared *her* to argue.
She didn't, making him smile with her concession.
"True."
"Ninety-nine percent and rising," he murmured,
harkening her back to a long-ago conversation in
the basement, one which eventually led to a man-
eating mushroom.
"We're not talking about lights in the sky here,
Mulder. And need I remind you that case had a
*very* mundane, scientific explanation?" She
ignored his preening, keeping her gaze on the
screen.
"No more mundane than a group of men out to
ensure global domination by extraterrestrials."
"That's hardly mundane."
"My point exactly."
A flash from the screen caught her attention.
"Mulder?"
"Yeah?"
"We never did get Harold and Elise's last names,
did we?"
"Nope. Why?"
"This may be reaching, but there's a partial list
of names here... and I see a 'Harold' among them.
And an 'Elise'."
Mulder abandoned the list for a moment to lean
over her shoulder. "Where?"
"Here." She pointed at the glaring sequence of
letters and numbers, reading them off to him, as
if to assure herself they were real. "17q22,
then nothing...G501...Harold... it goes on much
in the same way with all the other names. The
numbers could be just garbage, but there's no way
the letters arranged in the names are haphazard
like that." Actually, the numbers tweaked her
mind with vague insistence, but they could be
anything. Or nothing.
"You were right about those patients, Scully,"
Mulder said quietly, his hand nudging her
shoulder. "All this is connected somehow. We
just have to find the key to it all. Get into
Building 108; whatever's in there will blow this
whole thing wide open, I'm sure of it. Ready for
another ferry trip?"
She sat back with a sigh, giving him a wary look.
Their trip yesterday had not gone unnoticed.
She'd told Mulder they could go back at night and
break in, but now she had another lead - one he
probably wouldn't care for, but it was better
than risking arrest. "Maybe I can get us in
without too much trouble."
Mulder straightened, his gaze becoming cool.
"Luquet?"
She nodded, seeing Mulder's immediate dislike of
the idea. "I know you don't trust the man -"
He snorted, turning his back on her to face the
window. "That's an understatement. Look, we
don't need him, Scully. We can get in the
facility just fine after dark."
The tense line of his back beckoned, and she left
her chair to join him in the sunshine that burst
through the glass patio doors. "I don't trust
him, either." At his slanted look, she reinforced
her words. "I told you I questioned him motives,
which is true. I guess that means I don't trust
him. No use mincing words, is there?"
The corner of his mouth curled up in a grin.
"Wondered when you'd realize that."
"Takes me a while sometimes."
"I noticed." His eyes crinkled at the corners as
he leaned close. "Ninety-nine and rising."
They fell silent momentarily, as Mulder searched
her face with a serene, happy gaze. He wasn't
triumphant at all in his perusal; if he had been,
she would have knocked the stuffing out of him in
seconds, and he knew it. He was more proud in
voice and stance than anything else, satisfied
she'd let their differences slide away to join
with him once again. She was happy, too -
confident and certain that this time, they'd
emerge victorious. It had to happen. They'd
come too far not to win.
Cocking her head to one side, she crossed her
arms, saying firmly, "We're not going back to
Carville tonight, Mulder."
His grin faded into a lax, yet narrow-eyed stare.
This time, it was laced with more than a bit of
curiosity. As was his soft reply, tinged with
sexual innuendo. "We're not?"
"Nope," she answered, sidling closer. His arms
opened and she let him embrace her, reaching up
to scrape her thumb over his smooth chin. She'd
almost gotten used to the beard, but now she
could truthfully say she was glad it was gone.
"I told you a minute ago... maybe there's more
than one way to skin a goose."
"By using Luquet." He sighed, his happiness
temporarily dimmed as he captured her hand,
bringing it to his lips for a kiss. "Scully, the
less we have to do with that man, the better."
She knew his outlook would change when he heard
the details of her conversation with Robert in
the car, and she wasted no time telling him about
the party the next night, leaving no word unsaid.
After she'd explained, Mulder, still guarded,
asked, "And you think this person he wants you to
meet is Strughold?"
"That's my guess. He was very insistent, Mulder,
in his own way. The whole tone of the
conversation was suspicious, as if every word he
said had another meaning. Without giving too
much away, he was telling me it would be to my
advantage to speak to this man."
"Without giving himself away, you mean."
"All right, without giving *himself* away. Maybe
he *is* working on our side, Mulder. As a mole
in the organization, as someone pretending to be
a neutral observer, or even -"
"As a consortium whore pretending to be our
friend?" he finished, stating a possibility she'd
considered herself.
However much Robert appeared duplicitous, she
still felt deep down that he wasn't truly all
bad. But it was no use belaboring the point;
time would tell eventually. Especially with the
upcoming party - she felt sure the meeting Robert
had arranged would prove to be most enlightening.
"Fair enough. On this we agree - Robert isn't
what he seems. But something tells me I'll find
out tomorrow night." She raised a brow, calling
on Mulder to cool it for now.
"*We'll* find out tomorrow night."
Stiffening, she disengaged herself from his loose
embrace, taking a step back to say, "No way.
You're not invited."
"Scully -"
"And even if you were, I wouldn't let you go."
She moved back to the desk, closing her eyes
against the surge of anger within. "Don't do
this, Mulder. I can go alone."
"Nobody knows me as Fox Mulder. I'm John Robie,
remember?" His argument came from close over her
shoulder.
"Robert knows who you are. If he's working for
Strughold, then they all know you're here. And
they're just waiting to get you outside those
gates." Damn him. Just when she'd decided to
open herself up to him again, he put himself in
the line of fire...
"Scully, Luquet knew all along where I've been.
He could have gotten to me at Dupont's the other
night."
Whirling, she faced him, hot color creeping up
her face. "So now you're saying he's to be
trusted?"
"No!" Mulder bit his lip, his own frustration
evident in the way he grabbed her shoulders for
emphasis. "Shit, Scully. I can't just sit here
anymore, don't you see? Especially when I know
you'll be with him and his cronies."
"Stop with the jealous bullshit."
"I'm not jealous!" His fury died a quick death,
as he let go of her to pace. "All right, I am."
He raised a finger to stifle her satisfied 'I
knew it'. "But damn it, you need me to watch
your back. If Luquet can no longer be trusted to
do so - your own words - then the task falls to
me."
Still adamant in her refusal, she brought forth
new arguments. "I'll be in the limo. Marvin can
accompany me. Besides, your disguise - if you
can call it that - is gone. Remember?" She
scratched at her own chin with a pointed look.
He grimaced as his hand brushed over his smooth
face. "So what? It's not like it helped all
that much, anyway. And Marvin? Please. He'd be
about as useful as..." He groped for words, his
frustration getting the better of him.
"As useful as tits on a boar hog?"
They both turned at the intrusion. Scully found
her voice first, facing a grinning Bombay.
"What?"
"One of my mama's sayings," Bombay explained,
leaning against the door frame. His eyebrows
twitched with curiosity. "Did I miss anything
while we were gone?"
"Step aside, man." Marvin brushed none-too-
gently by Bombay, using his handkerchief to wipe
at his shining pate. "Sorry for the delay, Fox."
To Scully, he said, "Where would you like your
bags, Miss?"
Delay? Scully glanced at her watch, surprised to
find almost three hours had passed since they'd
left. It was well after noon.
"Put them in my room, Marvin," Mulder said,
giving her a look that dared her to disagree.
She said nothing, giving him a small smile in
return. Satisfaction at his surprised reaction
was short-lived, however, as she took up the more
important matter at hand with Bombay, walking
back to the laptop. "There's a file on the disk,
one with lots of garbage. Can you clean it up
more?"
Bombay strolled to her side, giving the screen a
quick glance. "Not with anything I have here,"
he replied. "Any chance of me taking the disk
with me back to my place?" Off their negative
looks, he bristled. "Can I at least ftp the file
to my hard drive? Totally secure, I swear. This
will probably take hours to decode, and I can
dedicate one of my systems at home to work on it
without interruption. Otherwise, I'll have to
work here - and that's not going to happen
tonight, sorry."
"Why not?"
"Because tonight is the most important social
event of my year," he replied, giving the
flustered Marvin an evil grin. "And someone owes
me a limo ride."
"Now see here -" Marvin began, but was cut off by
Mulder's laughter.
"Petronius is tonight, isn't it?" Mulder asked,
apparently enjoying the scene before him. "What
luck... not only do you get my limo, you get a
most dubious escort as well."
Marvin puffed up. "I never said I'd play escort,
Fox. Driver only."
Scully had no idea what they were talking about,
and glanced with confusion at Mulder, who waved a
hand as he addressed the other two. "Whatever.
Bombay, go ahead and transfer the file. While
you're at it, look at the other file, too - see
if you can find a connection among those names.
Marvin, have a good time tonight."
Amidst Bombay's little squeal of glee, Scully
moved to Mulder's side, watching Bombay peck in
earnest at the laptop. Whispering, she asked
with some trepidation, "Are you sure this is a
good idea?"
Mulder leaned down, lowering his voice as well.
"He can be trusted, Scully. Besides, we won't
get anything from him until tomorrow anyway.
We'll just have to wait." He gave her an
intense, probing look, silently adding what she'd
already deduced.
They would be alone the rest of the evening. She
didn't know if the flutter in her chest was one
of excitement or cowardice.
**********
He knew Scully thought the disk more important
than anything else. Actually, it should be
tantamount in his mind as well. And it was -
though it ran a close second to the opportunity
that presented itself when Bombay and Marvin
returned. To spend some time alone with her,
without Marvin's discreet hovering, was a gift
from the gods.
Even if she'd hinted before she left to shower
that their argument about the party tomorrow
night wasn't over, he still wouldn't trade this
precious time to come for anything. If it meant
he'd have to concede to her demand he stay home,
he'd do it. Well, he'd try to, anyway. There
were ways around that sticking point.
As he paced the patio outside the study, waiting
for her reappearance, he found himself a bit
nervous. Last night was but a dim memory, and he
wanted nothing more than to make it up to her.
But would she let him? There was so much that
needed to be said between them, but truthfully,
he didn't want to waste time with words. Too
much talking always seemed to prove disastrous.
Besides, his starved body demanded communication
of a different sort. Yeah, he was a pig, he
admitted to himself. Who could blame him, when
Scully was the most desirable woman, inside and
out, he'd ever known?
He stilled, closing his eyes. No. She wasn't
the type to indulge in sexual acrobatics without
rhyme or reason. If she wanted to spend this
time together simply sitting in silence, he'd do
it. Damn, but it would be difficult, though. He
envisioned another cold shower already, just like
the one he'd had this morning.
"Fox? I'm leaving now."
Marvin spoke behind him; Mulder looked at his
watch, giving his friend a questioning look. "So
early?"
"Bombay," Marvin's lips turned up in distaste
over the name, "insists I make myself available
this afternoon to deliver his costume to his
apartment. Unless you need me here?" His eyes
widened with hope.
"No." Mulder stifled his chuckle, affecting a
serious pose. "He could use the time decoding
that file."
"So he says," Marvin grumbled. "I think he loves
to humiliate me."
"A true sign of affection," Mulder replied,
unable to resist the twinkle of mirth that sprung
forth in his eyes.
Marvin, so easily disturbed when his manhood came
into question, said hastily, "I don't find the
humor in that at all."
"Relax, Marv. You're quite safe from Bombay, I
think. You're too short, for one thing. I think
he prefers tall and lean."
Mischief replaced the affront in Marvin's face.
"Like you?"
"Touche'." Mulder touched his brow in salute with
a smile, then sobered a bit. "You'd better get
going, Marv. Something tells me Bombay isn't one
to be kept waiting."
"Do you need anything before I go? Dinner? An
errand run?" His voice lowered to a cool, albeit
pointed murmur. "To the drugstore, perhaps?"
If Melvin had delivered the last instead of
Marvin, Mulder would have expected a leering
grin. But the face before him spoke with
genuine, subtle concern, and Mulder knew Marvin
was only acting in their best interests. A
pregnancy at this time, with their lives on hold
- not to mention the danger surrounding them at
every turn - would not be wise. Of course, it
seemed they'd already taken a big risk last
night. If indeed it was a risk at all; surely
Scully was prepared, given William's surprise
conception?
Besides, he really didn't expect her to spend the
evening with him in bed. More likely, she would
spend it alternating between scouring those files
and arguing with him over the party to come.
"Everything's cool, Marv," he said finally,
noticing his friend's relief at his dismissal of
a very personal subject. "Go on."
Giving Mulder a small, hopeful smile, Marvin
answered, "I'm off then. I have no idea when
I'll be back, but I won't disturb you - I'll
sleep in the garage."
The garage, nestled in a grove of pecan trees
behind the mansion, was really a house in itself.
With room for a dozen vehicles, its upper story
consisted of several bedrooms, a bathroom, and
kitchen. In years past, it served as quarters
for the chauffeur and mechanics employed by the
estate. Even before the advent of automobiles,
it had been home to the horses and carriages used
to cart the master's family wherever they wished.
It wasn't rundown, but neither was it cleaned
regularly. "Marvin, you don't have to -"
"I insist. I'll be quite comfortable, Fox. And
even if it's very late before I return, I'll be
on hand at eight in the morning to serve
breakfast." With a curt nod, he departed before
Mulder could protest.
He had a feeling there wasn't much he could have
said to dissuade Marvin, anyway. Once the little
man made his mind up about something, there was
no changing it. Which made his acceptance of
Scully a miracle, really. He knew Marvin had
based his preconceptions of Scully on Melvin's
praises - but he also believed Scully to be a
cold woman who easily gave up her child and let
Mulder slide into near oblivion. No matter what
Mulder said in her defense, Marvin partly blamed
Scully for Mulder's unhappiness and isolation.
But now, with her firmly ensconced in the
mansion, he contrived to give them time alone -
even if it meant he had to put his manhood in
jeopardy by escorting Bombay this evening. Favor
or not, Marvin would not have agreed to be
Bombay's driver... unless by doing so, Mulder
benefited. Marvin could easily have arranged
for a limo service in payment.
Mulder looked out over the grounds, hands in
pockets. Marvin was an exceptional employee and
friend, and he once again counted himself lucky
to have him. Even if all his machinations were
likely destined to be for naught.
Lost in thought, he didn't hear Scully approach
until her voice came from the open door.
"Marvin's gone?"
He turned, and at once was sucker-punched by the
need to gather her close and never let her go.
He thought she'd looked breathtakingly sexy in
his shirt this morning, but if possible, she
looked even better after her shower. All soft
and infinitely touchable in her faded jeans and
sneakers, her dove gray sweater seeming to cling
to her every curve, even if it was designed to
flow loose. He felt his mouth water in
anticipation of putting his fingers to the
lightweight fabric, knowing it was thin and
guaranteed to let the warmth of her skin seep
through. She looked cuddly and downright
kissable, her face clean of makeup and her hair
waving to her shoulders. He couldn't help but
stare, and she noticed, dropping her gaze as she
patted down the carefree, sun-kissed strands.
"I didn't take the time to do anything with it,"
she explained. "I'm tired of trying to look like
I belong in Robert's world. That's been the
worst part of this operation - having to put on
the ritz practically every night."
He had to say it; no matter how she reacted, it
was the truth. In a voice husky with desire, he
took a chance. "You look beautiful."
She bit her lip with dismay. "Mulder -"
"I know you don't want to hear it, Scully, but I
have to say it," he interrupted, watching the
afternoon sun turn her hair into a fiery halo.
It almost hurt his eyes to look upon her, as if
she were a goddess not worthy of his mortal
adoration. "I know we have a lot to talk about,
a lot of work to do. I know part of the reason
you stayed was because you need my help, and I
need yours. But -"
"I do need your help," she whispered, mimicking
his defensive pose, her arms wrapping around her
waist. "I thought I could do this alone, Mulder.
I really did. And if we end up apart again -"
"We won't," he vowed, taking a step forward. She
was already talking herself out of commitment,
for fear of abandonment.
"I still wouldn't change this day," she finished
softly, looking up at him with a misty, happy
gaze. "I want to stay with you, Mulder, for
however long we have. And today, I want to just
be with you. No work, no fighting, no wondering
if tomorrow we'll go our separate ways again."
A goofy smile took shape on his face. "So... how
do you suggest we pass the time?"
Rolling her eyes, she closed the distance between
them to grab his hand. "Show me around your
estate, Mr. Robie. I've never been on a
plantation before."
As they strolled down the sloping lawn, he
squeezed her fingers, loving the way her palm fit
perfectly to his. "I know what this is... you
just want to hold my hand," he quipped, a tremor
of joy in his voice. "Admit it."
Her smile was atypically broad, her laugh rolling
over the grass with the breeze. "You know me too
well, Mulder." He almost tripped when she added
softly, "But I bet you didn't know I hate to play
pool."
The vision of them entwined on the red baize of
the pool table that had been flirting around the
edges of his brain fizzled in an instant. Damn.
Was she saying what he thought she was? He
didn't know. Years ago, he'd almost become adept
at catching her every mood, especially those with
sexual overtones. When they became lovers, he'd
learned to read the most minute hint of desire on
her face - or lack thereof. No longer; he felt
as if he was picking his way carefully through a
mine field. When he realized she was waiting for
his reaction, he forced a calmness to his voice.
"Got me on that one, Scully."
Just as she had him in most every other way. And
she knew it, the witch.
"Then I suppose you're back to ninety-eight point
nine, aren't you?"
In gauging her thoughts, he doubted he ever rose
above fifty percent. Not a very auspicious
beginning to the afternoon, he realized.
"Then again," she continued, "I probably hate
pool because I'm not very good at it."
He halted at that, pulling on her hand to make
her look at him. Her eyes were smiling, and so
full of cautious optimism he felt sure his
'confidence ratio' would soar in the hours to
come.
With his other hand, he brushed the hair from her
face, his thumb lingering on her cheek. "I'm
*very* good at pool, Scully."
"You are?"
He nodded, answering her smile with one of his
own. "A regular shark. My middle name is Jaws."
She pulled him along toward the gardens,
chuckling. "Good. That means you'll be right at
home in the hot tub, too."
Oh yeah. Life was good.
End Chapter Fourteen
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