Skinner slammed the receiver down with far more force than it required
and gave an exasperated sigh. "What the hell are those two playing
at?" he muttered to himself. He stood and paced to the front of his
desk, rubbing his temple as he tried to make some sense of the events of
the previous night.
Just as he had persuaded himself that life would be easier for him when
the two had been reassigned to become a headache for somebody else, just
when he had convinced himself that the two of them should no longer be
working together, the call had come.
They had gotten away with it this time. But for the life of him he didn't
understand why or how. Mulder was in for a shock, though, and life for
both of them wasn't going to be easy. For that matter, it wasn't going to
be easy for Spender or Fowley, either. Trying to work as a team with
Mulder and Scully generally required a degree in telepathy. The two often
used their own unspoken method of communication. Perhaps he should give
them all an interpreter for the first few weeks. Yet he doubted anyone
else would ever understand what went on between those two.
He really should have done something about Mulder and Scully awhile ago.
But he couldn't honestly say that their relationship had affected their
work. If anything, it had pushed them both harder, driving them beyond the
limits where others would have given up. He had seen it so often--the
naked fear in Mulder's eyes when he met him on the bridge where the
"cult suicide" had taken place. The love between both of them in
the Congressional hearing when Mulder returned from Russia. Mulder
crumbling when he thought he had lost her. Scully's grim determination to
save him over and over again. So many clues and hints over the years as he
had watched them grow closer and closer together.
You would have to be blind, stupid, or emotionally dead from the neck up
not to see it. To their credit, until the recent incident witnessed by
Spender, they had kept any physical expression from becoming blatant. And
damn it, they were good! They achieved far more together than they ever
would apart.
There were so many ways he could justify his indecision, his unwillingness
to enforce Bureau protocol. Not only because he actually liked and admired
them. He felt a protectiveness towards them that he couldn't honestly say
he gave the other agents under his supervision.
He picked up the receiver again and stamped the numbers into the pad.
Where the hell were they? This time Mulder finally answered.
"Agent Mulder, what the hell is going on? I have been trying to reach
you and Agent Scully for the last hour. You have either been on the phone
for all that time or you have a fault on your line. Agent Scully does not
appear to be at home and neither of you have answered your cell
phones!"
"I'm sorry, I was...um...I was taking a shower. Is there a
problem?"
"Much as I find your attention to cleanliness laudable, Agent Mulder,
it might surprise you to learn that the rest of the population usually
take about ten minutes to shower. It may be even quicker when they're up
against the urgent need to haul their backsides into the office and make
some effort to salvage their professional lives." He paused, feeling
his irritation subside. "I had expected that you and Agent Scully
would have been in the building early this morning."
Skinner heard Mulder's sharp intake of breath, and for a moment the
thought crossed his mind that Mulder had actually forgotten the full
significance of the charges he was facing. "I was just leaving. I'll
be there as soon as I can."
"Mulder, something is going down here. The situation has changed
considerably since yesterday. There's a meeting scheduled for 11 a.m. I
need to see both you and Agent Scully prior to the meeting. Can I assume
that you are able to contact her?"
"Yes sir, I should be able to reach her before I leave here."
"Fine. Mulder..." He searched for the words. "You and Agent
Scully, you both need to be careful, to remember how far you both came on
your previous discretion. I don't understand what's happening here, but
you're both vulnerable."
He replaced the receiver and returned to the papers on his desk. In spite
of his concern, he couldn't help a small smile. "Taking a shower.
Hmph!" His shoulders moved with silent laughter as he allowed himself
to think of the stuffed shirts in the admin department. He could just
picture their faces when he submitted his requisition to issue a state of
the art, waterproof, phone to Agent Scully!
*************************************************************************************************
Diana Fowley watched them from her vantage point in the underground garage
of the Hoover Building. From the darkness of her car, she saw them cross
the garage and stand together, waiting for the elevator.
His dark head was bent low to her auburn hair as they talked and smiled
together. The intimacy of their shared lovers' secrets was obvious to her.
His hand rested on the small of her back, rubbing gently all the time they
waited, as though he couldn't bear to break their physical contact one
moment sooner than he had to.
As soon as the elevator doors had closed, she left her car and followed.
From behind the shadows of the nearest concrete pillar a man emerged,
drawing heavily on a cigarette. She froze.
"My dear Agent Fowley. How pleasant to see you again. You are well, I
trust?"
She said nothing, merely stood waiting for him to come to the point.
He studied her through eyes drawn half-closed to avoid the sting of
cigarette smoke. "The arrangements for re-assignment have been
changed, which is most unfortunate. I had hoped that you would have made
more progress by now. Such a shame that your unfortunate...shall we
say...*accident* delayed matters so much."
Her eyes blazed with anger as she lashed out, "My unfortunate
accident was supposed to have been caused by a canister of CS gas, not a
bullet in my lung that nearly killed me."
"Quite. As I just said, a most unfortunate accident caused by a small
communications problem. But all's well that ends well, don't you think?
Your part in the affair will be beyond question. A most satisfactory
outcome for you."
She remembered the words of the one-armed man last night and decided to
put them to the test. "I would hardly describe being stuck with Agent
Spender a satisfactory outcome. Quite the opposite."
The sudden flash of annoyance in the man's eyes was brief but unmistakable
and confirmed the truth. "You would do well to afford Agent Spender
considerable respect. He will go far in the Bureau and will have
considerable influence in those areas that you find so fascinating, Agent
Fowley. That much I can assure you, despite this little setback."
He paused to gauge the effect of his words. Satisfied that she understood
their full meaning, he continued, "Agents Mulder and Scully will
today be reassigned to the
X-Files. It appears they have their own significant friends with
considerable influence. Still, I have managed to salvage the situation to
an extent that may ultimately suit our purposes far more." Her
obvious displeasure at his words amused him, but before she could voice it
he started to speak again. "Both yourself and Agent Spender will, of
course, continue with your assignment to the X-Files, an arrangement which
should be quite cozy for you all. I am sure you do not need me to fully
explain your assignment. Let's just say that I would anticipate that
Agents Mulder and Scully will find certain lines of investigation
extremely difficult. In fact, when it comes to those areas which prove,
shall we say, uncomfortable, I would be surprised if they made any
progress at all."
He turned to leave and relief started to flow through her. Her relief died
as he turned back. "You must forgive my rudeness, my dear. So remiss
of me not to enquire. How is the boy?"
An icicle of fear formed in her stomach. Surely he must mean the Gibson
boy? He had to. He couldn't know. She collected herself enough to say,
"I would imagine that you are better able to answer that question
than I. Officially Gibson Praise is still missing."
He uttered a low laugh. "Very good, Agent Fowley. But I think we both
know exactly which boy I am referring to. Let me see... He must be, what,
seven by now? It must be so hard for you leaving such a young child to the
tender mercies of an English boarding school. No doubt it is your hope
that the young man will follow in his father's footsteps. I would imagine
that his current educational path would be almost certain to gain him a
place at Oxford."
He paused, enjoying this opportunity for swift revenge, barely able to
hide his delight at the effect of his words on her. "There again, of
course, I suspect you never worried too much about seeking the approval of
the father over such a small matter as his son's education? Little point I
would imagine when he does not yet know of the boy's existence."
Diana stood ashen-faced, her mouth twisting but unable to form any words
as the shock of his words hit her with full force.
He placed another cigarette between his lips, studying her while he lit
it, savoring the moment before he delivered his final words. "My dear
Diana, you have really gone quite pale. Don't take it too hard. We are all
human, all have our little secrets, our weak spots. They help us to
understand one another so much better, wouldn't you agree?"