Title: Thirty-six Part One   Five years earlier…   Walter sighed. ‘But Captain…’   The older man put up a hand. ‘I know, you work alone. Well, not any more. Detective Fox…’   ‘Fox?’ Walter repeated, still not sure it wasn’t a birthday joke.   ‘Yeah…’ The Captain flicked through the sheets in the cardboard folder in front of him. ‘Fox…Mulder, Detective.’   Walter groaned. ‘Happy Birthday Wisk.’   The Captain laughed gently. ‘Oh yeah, Happy Birthday, by the way.’ He handed Walter the folder, and, a moment later the phone rang. Walter took it and got up, closing the door behind him.   He walked back to the desk he would now share with his new partner and stared, not quite believing what he saw. Foxes. Dozens of them. Small stuffed toys, cardboard cut-outs, plastic kids toys. He whirled round, hearing stifled giggles from those around him. ‘Look, the kid’s probably had to take this kind of crap since…well, ever. None of you have odd names, huh?’   There were a few embarrassed looks.   Walter swept the toys into the bin, settled down, feet on the desk, and began to read the folder’s contents. The picture was of a man younger than himself by at least ten years. Thick brown hair…unconsciously Walter brushed his own head, feeling the warm smooth flesh under his large fingers.   ******************   A few weeks later…   Yet again Detective Fox Mulder was standing in front of the Captain’s desk, explaining away his latest loss. He knew Skinner was behind him, and he had long since given up hope of getting any support from the older man. Indeed, he wasn’t at all sure it hadn’t been Skinner who had ratted him out with regard to the case he had just finished.   ‘Where have you been Mulder? I’ve been calling you for an hour!’   Skinner made a ‘telephone’ shape with his hand, touching his thumb and little finger tips to his temple, and then signalled a thumbs-down. The Captain sighed. ‘Another cell phone gone Detective?’ His voice was heavy with sarcasm tinged with resignation.   Mulder bit his lip and stared at the floor, suddenly deciding offense was his only hope of defense. ‘It wasn’t my fault Sir!’   ‘The phone broke and got lost all by itself?’   ‘No Sir!’   ‘Well?’   Mulder’s attention was distracted by the unexpected arrival of his friends – Langly, Byers and Frohike. ‘Um, well, I was…oh never mind. I’ll just pay for it.’ Mulder sighed heavily.   The Captain nodded, hearing and seeing the disturbance the three men’s arrival had caused outside his office. ‘Yes Detective, you will. If you lose another, you’ll be back to a pocketful of coins, understand?’   Mulder nodded. ‘Yes Sir.’   The Captain sighed. ‘I know you’re new. I know you’re eager. I was once. But all the PHD’s in the world don’t make a damn’ of difference out there.’ He waved a hand at the window. ‘Out there you need your phone, got it?’   Mulder nodded again, risking a quick glance at Skinner. But his partner was deliberately looking away. ‘Yes Sir. Sorry Sir.’   The Captain smiled slightly then jerked his head at the door. ‘Try and keep out of trouble. At least for a few hours Detective. Walter, hold up a second.’   Mulder left Skinner and the Captain to it, guessing he would be the topic of conversation.   ******************   A few weeks later still…   Mulder looked around the gym with something close to horror. ‘This is where you work out?’   Skinner nodded. ‘Yeah. Have done for years.’   Mulder’s eyes swept around the white-washed walls, dotted around with posters advertising fights in years before he was born, the hard concrete floor devoid of anything other than a few worn blue rubber mats. The equipment wasn’t bad, just a little old-fashioned and with a few pieces Mulder thought looked like they dated from the dates of the advertised fights.   Mulder shed his hooded sweat top and Skinner pulled off his sweatshirt, his DCPD t-shirt more faded than Mulder’s.   ‘Take it easy Mulder, this is the real deal.’ Skinner said teasingly. His one and only visit to Mulder’s gym had convinced him that the old-fashioned place he frequented was more suited to someone who wanted to work out in preference to socialising.   Mulder snorted disparagingly and walked across to a low T-bar attached to the far wall a few inches from the floor. Settling onto a mat he pulled across, he hooked his feet under the horizontal bar and began to lift himself up.   Skinner’s shout made him jump. ‘Mulder! Warm up?’   Mulder twisted round. ‘I *am* warming up.’   Skinner crossed the floor, hooking his hand under Mulder’s forearm. ‘Warm up Mulder.’   Mulder rolled his eyes, his hand coming up in a sloppy salute. ‘Yes Sir!’   *************** The following year…   Mulder opened his eyes slowly, the pissed-off face of Detective Walter Skinner coming into slow focus. He groaned, moving slowly and deciding he would stay exactly where he was in preference to anything else.   Skinner sighed deeply. ‘It’s a good thing your head is as hard as it is.’   Mulder managed a suitably-pathetic weak smile. ‘Yeah.’   ‘Did they not teach you at Detective School that you stay behind or beside speeding vehicles, never in front of them?’   Mulder decided the question had been rhetorical, and said nothing.   ‘The kids are fine by the way. Their parents were here earlier, but they left. They said to say thanks. CCTV outside the school traced the speeding car. PD should be visiting the owner right about now.’   ‘That’s good.’ Mulder rasped.   ‘What the Hell were you doing on a school crossing anyway?’ Skinner snapped crossly.   ‘Just lucky.’ Mulder half-smiled, lifting his head a little and regretting it.   ‘Lay still.’ Skinner’s sharp tone didn’t match his face, which, Mulder saw, wore an expression of genuine concern. ‘You have concussion, broken ribs and a torn shoulder muscle. Do not move, understand?’   ‘Yes Sir.’   Mulder’s meek tone and teary wide eyes had the desired effect, and Skinner got to his feet. ‘You need anything? You’re gonna be in here at least overnight.’   Mulder began to shake his head and stopped, wincing.   ‘Lay still!’ This time Skinner’s tone *was* matched by his expression. Mulder didn’t have to be told again.   ***************   Mulder opened his eyes and winced at the sudden brightness, bringing his hand up to shield his eyes. ‘Hey!’   Byers looked around the room, Langly settled into a chair at Mulder’s bedside and Frohike began to unpack breakfast for four. ‘Good morning Mulder.’   ‘Wha…what are you guys going here?’   ‘We, um…heard about your accident.’ Langly said cautiously. He knew that Mulder wouldn’t approve of his scanning the police frequency.   Mulder lifted himself up onto one arm and Frohike left the breakfast rolls and other things and began to pile pillows behind him.   Byers paced around, clearly unhappy with the room.   Standing outside the door, Skinner looked in through the glass panel in the door, saw Mulder’s visitors and walked out of the hospital, the bag of breakfast rolls and preserves in his hand.   *****************   Mulder pulled himself off the couch and walked slowly to the door. He didn’t bother looking through the security panel, pulling the door open, wincing at the pain the action caused. ‘Um, hi Sir.’   ‘Mulder. How are you?’   ‘Recovering Sir.’   Skinner humphed at that and looked around the apartment. ‘Were you burgled?’   Mulder frowned. ‘Burgled Sir?’ His eyes followed Skinner’s, taking in the disorganised chaos that was his apartment and saw nothing wrong.   ‘This place is a mess Mulder!’   Mulder shrugged, then gasped.   ‘Sit down. You have a take-out place you like?’   Mulder nodded at the pile of laminated and paper leaflets on the table beside the couch. ‘Kwongs is okay.’   Walter perused the menu, and Mulder looked up. ‘Um, Menu Two is good.’   Walter nodded. He looked around for the phone. ‘Mulder, phone?’   Mulder’s eyes scanned the room, finally spotting the cable. ‘It’s…um, under the table Sir.’   Skinner reserved comment, pulling the phone by its cable until he had it. He dialled, placed the order, replaced the receiver and left the phone on the table.   He walked into the kitchen, eyes wide at the devastation his young partner had wreaked in the small room. Sighing, he ran the tap until it ran hot, found some washing liquid and a half-decent scrubbing brush and got to work on the mound of dishes and cutlery, saucepans and other utensils. While some of the worst-affected dishes soaked in the sink, Skinner found a roll of black bags and filled one with empty take-out dishes and other rubbish.   Smiling at the scene of ordered cleanliness which now faced him, Skinner turned from the kitchen and walked back into the living room. Mulder was dozing, his face smoothed of the strain Skinner had seen a short time before, the years spent frowning over cases temporarily erased, leaving him, Skinner thought, looking younger. He worked quietly and methodically around the room, occasionally glancing over at Mulder, checking he wasn’t waking.   ******************   Mulder moaned softly and opened his eyes. He gasped as he turned onto his side and turned onto his back. Skinner was sitting at the kitchen table, a newspaper open in front of him. Mulder frowned as he tried to work out where he was. The apartment he had woken in bore no resemblance to the one he’d fallen asleep in.   Skinner turned at the slight sound and smiled. ‘Hungry?’   Mulder’s stomach rumbled in answer and he nodded. He lifted himself up and gasped. ‘Ow!’ He stretched out, reaching for the pills on the coffee table. Skinner got up and walked into the room, taking the pills from him. He returned with a single pill and a glass of water. ‘Here.’   Mulder smiled. ‘Thanks. Did you tidy up?’   Skinner humphed. ‘Here and there.’   Mulder swallowed the pill and lay back, sighing deeply. ‘I always meant to get to it.’   Skinner got up as the doorbell sounded, exchanging the bags the delivery boy carried for a handful of notes from his pocket. He carried the bags into the kitchen and unpacked them, bringing back two plates and two sets of cutlery, setting the cardboard cartons onto the coffee table. ‘You need a hand?’   Mulder shook his head and got up slowly, wincing as he sat up. ‘Thanks.’   Skinner smiled. ‘Can’t let a hero go hungry.’   Mulder blushed. ‘Hey, I did what anyone would have done. I just pushed the kids out of the way.’   Skinner nodded. ‘Next time, go with them.’   Mulder groaned as he moved again. ‘Next time? No thanks.’   Skinner laughed. ‘Could have been worse. Could have been a truck.’   Mulder yelped as he reached for one of the cartons. ‘Felt like it was.’   The two men worked their way through the food with very little further conversation. As he picked up the empty cartons, Skinner said casually: ‘You had visitors this morning.’   ‘At the hospital? Yeah. We’re old friends from way back.’ Mulder nodded, smiling at the memory of the earlier meal. His smiled turned into a frown. ‘How did you know?’   Skinner shrugged, straightening up, hands full of cardboard cartons. ‘I just dropped by to check on my partner.’   Mulder looked at the older man. ‘You should have come in. I could have introduced you.’   Skinner nodded. ‘Another time perhaps.’   Mulder smiled. ‘Sure. Need a hand?’   Skinner walked past the couch and loomed over the younger man. ‘Stay there. You’re supposed to be resting. Your doctor said…’   Mulder pouted. ‘I know, I know.’   Skinner chuckled and began to walk from the room.   Mulder lay back, closed his eyes and was asleep when Skinner came back in, the kitchen cleaner and tidier than it had been since the day Mulder moved in.   Skinner smiled at the sight of Mulder, lying in the only semi-comfortable position he could find, on his back, mouth slightly open, hair flopping over his face. He let himself out quietly and drove back to his apartment, hoping Mulder would obey medical instruction and take a few days to recover.   **************************   Mulder stood back from the scene, his stomach feeling queasy at the discussion between the men and women around him. Another body, a woman this time. The previous one had been missing his kidneys. The one before that their liver. This woman had apparently been subjected to several different mutilations.   Fox forced his feet to carry him closer to the knot of uniformed people surrounding the body, fishing his ID badge from his pocket. ‘Who found her?’   One of the uniformed officers nodded at a middle-aged man. ‘Drives a garbage truck. Says he saw her hand through the bag and stopped the machine just in time.’   ‘Thanks.’ Fox nodded at the officer and walked across to where the grey-haired man perched on the back step of a restaurant. ‘Hi.’   The man looked up. ‘I tell you, I’ve seen some crazy stuff, but never a…’   Fox nodded. ‘Yeah. Is there anything else you remember, anything?’   ‘I rolled it round the back of the truck, pressed the button and it tipped in. I was rolling it back and I saw the…hand.’ He shuddered, remembering.   Fox straightened up. ‘Okay. Thanks.’   *******************   Fox leaned down, running his fingers through his hair. Softly, he muttered: ‘What am I missing?’ He stared at the pictures and words on the desk in front of him, hoping something, anything, would jump out at him. He sighed and leaned back. No reports of missing persons matching either description, no clothing found on or near either body, each bore different wounds. He was startled by the telephone. ‘Detective Mulder…okay…thanks anyway…bye.’ Fox sighed. ‘Talk to me.’   ‘Okay.’   Fox turned at the sound of Walter’s voice behind him. ‘They’re connected. I *know* they are.’   Walter leaned down and looked at the pictures, scanning the reports clipped to them. ‘Perhaps it’s a med student practicing their technique?’   ‘That’s it!’ Fox got to his feet.   ‘What’s ‘it’ Fox?’   ‘Kidneys, liver, heart valves. Transplants!’   Walter sighed. ‘Take it easy Fox. That’s one possible…’   Fox shook his head. ‘The wounds were closed by…’ He read from one of the folders. ‘Someone with medical skills.’   Walter slipped into his familiar devil’s advocate role. ‘Okay. So why were they found almost ten miles apart?’    ‘Someone wanted us to think they were killed by different people. They weren’t.’   ‘With different wounds.’   ‘Maybe they need an exact match for stuff like that.’   Walter sat on the edge of the desk. ‘They?’   ‘The people who carried out the surgery.’   Another thought occurred to Walter. ‘Transplanted organs need to be used quickly.’   ‘Maybe the donor and the recipient were in the same place.’   Walter took a deep breath. ‘So we’re looking for a new clinic.’   Fox nodded. ‘Probably. Or a place which could hide one.’   ‘You’ve had a long day. Go on home. The clinic or whatever it is will still be here tomorrow.’   Fox contemplated arguing, then saw the determined look on his partner’s face and got up, pulling his coat from his chair. Walter grabbed the collar and helped Fox on with it, noticing the younger man was still in considerable pain. ‘Get an early night.’   Fox turned, smiling, rolling his eyes. ‘Yes Walter.’   Continued in part two...       Home Send me feedback on this fic Return to the X-Files Fic Index Return to the West Wing Fic Index