"Pieces of the Past II: Searching"
By Jen and Lauren
c1999

Part 01/06

The Basement of the J. Edgar Hoover Building
April 11, 1998
6:15 a.m.

"Another night wasted at the office," he muttered to no one in particular. Mulder had been working on the Bryan Kennedy case report since about six o'clock the previous evening but had been having a great deal of trouble making it sound plausible. It wasn't that the Bryan Kennedy case was so phenomenal in itself, it was just too.... personal, to Mulder, to allow him to write up a report that didn't go off into "I wonder this" and "I wonder that" tangents. He'd typed up a pathetic excuse for a report, done the expense report and placed it all on Skinner's desk at 2:47 a.m.

Why was he still at the office then? Mulder didn't know. He knew that Scully would want to know when she showed up in approximately 43 minutes and 26 seconds (not like anyone was counting or anything). God knows Mulder needed the sleep but there he was doing it again. Not giving himself time to heal. Mulder had gotten out of the hospital Monday, and then had flown back home on Tuesday and Tuesday night he was back on his 24 hour work schedule with good old J. Edgar.

He must have zoned out because the next thing he heard were footsteps tapping and a loud, "Jesus, Mulder, what are you trying to do, give me a heart attack?"

Looking up, he saw his partner glaring down at him. "Sorry," he said, his voice rough from not being used for hours and hours.

Scully let out one of her long, trademark, sighs and sat up on the corner of Mulder's desk where a space was cleared. "What are you doing here so early? What time did you get in?"

Mulder had no idea what time it is, but he took a guess. "Seven o'clock, sharp. I just had to finish these reports."

His partner glanced at her watch and back at him. "Seven, Mulder? It's 6:45 now." He was staring at his hands, and Scully reached out and lifted up his chin, as to get a better look at him. "You stayed here the whole night, didn't you?" His eyes floated back down to his hands and Scully jumped up. "Damnit, Mulder, you need to go home. You're digging your own grave, here, and I'm not going to let you do that."

Scully grabbed his jacket from where it was draped over the back of a chair, pushed it at him, and pulled out her car keys. "You're going to my place," she said. "Skinner already gave us the okay for another week off, and I'm going to make sure that you make good use of it. Catching up on your sleep."



Scully's Apartment
11:36 a.m.

Mulder squinted against the late morning light streaming through the window. The sunlight was most likely responsible for waking him up, since he had been in a deep sleep (no nightmares) otherwise. Rolling over in the unfamiliarly soft bed, Mulder let his eyes slip closed again. He lay like that until the question of what time it was caused him to open his eyes.

11:37 a.m. the alarm clock told him in digital red letters.

"Eleven thirty seven..." he mumbled sleepily. It took a minute for the words to click, then he jumped up. "Eleven thirty seven. Shit, I'm late for work!"

Mulder hurried to get untangled from the sheets and jumped out of bed, then was shocked to see that he was still dressed. Further investigation caused Mulder to realize that he was not home at all, but rather in the guest bedroom of his partner's apartment. Mulder realized.

After straightening his clothing and splashing some cold water on his face, he made his way into the living room where Scully was sitting, reading quietly.

"Hey." She looked up when he came in.

"Hi," he said. There was an awkward pause, then Mulder continued, "Look I'm just going to have a little of that coffee," he motioned to a pot sitting on the stove. "Then head to the office."

"Mulder," Scully said, and smiled. "Don't you remember? You're on vacation."

Mulder looked down at his shoes. "But I don't have time for vacation," he said.

"Well, you don't have a choice," Scully said as she got up. "Skinner doesn't want to see your face at the Bureau for another five days, at least." She reached for the coffee pot and poured Mulder a cup of coffee.

Mulder opened his mouth to speak, but Scully beat him to it. "And Mulder, that does not mean 'I can go to work as long as Skinner or Scully, for that matter, doesn't see me.' It means that you stay home and catch up on your rest. You just got out of the hospital two days ago, Mulder." Scully handed him the cup of coffee she had poured.

Mulder took the cup and smiled. "And?"

Scully walked back to her place on the couch. "And, normal people who just got out of the hospital usually rest."

Mulder took a sip of his coffee and walked over toward the couch. He stood in front of Scully, and because she was sitting it made their height difference seem very great. "Scully, you should know by now that I'm not normal."

Scully smiled. "Yes, Mulder, I knew that from day one." She turned serious. "But you're still weak."

"Me, Scully? I'm ready to face the world."

"Really?" Scully said, her eyebrow arched. She stood up, took the cup of coffee out of his hands, and placed it on a near-by table. They stood less than a foot apart from each other. Suddenly Scully walked around him and gave him a push from behind. Mulder fell to the couch, and grabbed Scully's hand in the struggle. Both of them fell to the couch in giggles.

"See?" Scully said as she lifted her head. She and Mulder's faces were now only a few inches apart.

"Ok, so I'm not Popeye," Mulder admitted, the mischievous gleam apparent in his eyes.

"I'll second that." Mulder still had a firm grasp on her hand.

Mulder gave a mock hurt expression. "Scully, you wound me."

Scully smiled and entwined her fingers from Mulder's grasp. She quickly got up from the couch and reached for her car keys.

Mulder straightened up on the couch and watched her. "Where are you going?"

"I have a dentist's appointment at 12:30, Mulder. I'm going to be late." She smiled again. "Now can I trust you to be alone, or do I have to get a baby-sitter?" she teased.

"My mom always used to bring us along on errands," Mulder said, a smirk on his lips.

"Somehow I'll save the dentist's waiting room the pleasure of meeting Fox Mulder." Her smile faded and her tone turned serious. "Mulder, please stay put. You're in no shape to be running around. Please, if you don't get some sleep, at least just veg on the couch and watch TV." She smiled again. "I'll even let you order pay-per-view."

Mulder's own eyebrow went up. "Are you sure you won't regret that offer, Agent Scully?"

Scully shook her head, the smile not leaving her face. "Mulder, I _know_ I'm going to regret it."

Scully's apartment
2:22 p.m.

Mulder did keep true to his promise. He basically raided Scully's refrigerator and settled on her couch, flipping through the cable stations. He had finally settled on "Contact" on HBO. The story was interesting and he wondered why he hadn't seen the movie earlier. Of course he found himself laughing at some of the parts, which he thought wouldn't happen.

Yet, it was only 2:30 and Mulder found himself growing restless. If he had his car, he might have gone back to his own apartment at least. But as he stared at Scully's walls, he had to admit she had a _much_ better looking apartment than he did. Still....

It was sure bringing his day down. Mulder _hated_ sitting around and doing nothing. That's why he hated hospitals. All they wanted him to do was sit there and rest. Rest. Mulder thought with a laugh.

He checked his watch again, and it was only 4 minutes later than the last time he checked. He was being good, he was. He wasn't hopping a cab to go to work. He was sitting on the couch, "vegging out", and bored.

He sighed and got up. His eyes strayed to the folders he brought from the office. Ok, he would stay on the couch, but Scully didn't say anything about working while he was on the couch. He smiled and grabbed the overflowing folders and settled down on the couch.

Most were expense papers (thank God he had written up a pathetic excuse for one this morning), and some were rough drafts of reports Mulder remembered starting while he was still in the hospital. He stopped shuffling through papers when his hands brushed upon a blue folder.

He picked it up and looked at it. He recognized it immediately. It was the folder Scully had shown him. The folder which held all the info that Kennedy could find on his sister's disappearance. The folder in which the final paper, dated December 15, 1969 boar the signature of one William Mulder at the bottom. Mulder opened the folder and immediately went to the last paper. The one that had his father's signature on it. Along with another name that was so hastily written Mulder couldn't even make out the letters.

He swallowed and read the paper, though by now he should have its contents memorized. It was just a paper authorizing the transfer of Valerie Kennedy from one place to another. The locations were vague. It just said from point A to point B. The people involved were obviously supposed to know where those places were. A lot of help this did for him.

Mulder stared at the paper. It was a photocopy, not an original he told himself for the thousandth time. Finding his father's name in a place he would have rather not seen it was not a new experience. But it still bothered him. It always would.

Mulder thought as he closed the folder. Staring at it wasn't doing any good. He sat back and thought. Suddenly it came to him.

Kennedy. He could ask Kennedy.



But he couldn't think of another one. He sat back on the couch and closed his eyes, the brain power wearing him out. He laid his head on the arm of the couch and before he knew it he was fast asleep.

Scully's apartment
5:39 p.m.

"Mulder," a voice was saying. "Mulder."

"Yeah, that's me," he responded sleepily.

"Mulder, wake up. _Mulder_."

Mulder lifted his head and scowled. "We've already established that. What?" A hand came up to scrub his face. He squinted up. "Sorry Scully."

Scully sat down next to him. "What's up? I couldn't wake you up... I was trying for a while."

He shrugged. "Sorry. So how was the dentist?"

"The dentist," Scully said. "Was a dentist. He poked around in my mouth."

"Bet that was fun." Mulder stood stiffly. "I'm going to take a shower, then I thought I'd go for a ride around town. You know, just a ride. It's beautiful out."

Scully snorted. "How would you know?" Then, remembering that it was she who had condemned him to the house, she said quickly, "All right, go ahead. Maybe I'll order some Chinese and we can eat when you get back."

"Sounds great," Mulder said.



Washington D.C.
6:01 p.m.

Mulder wasn't quite sure why he had decided to go for a drive. He just needed some time alone, outside. A run would have been preferable but he knew Scully would never let him.

Now he sat in his car, parked outside the J. Edgar Hoover building. He was dying to go in but if Skinner or Scully caught him, he was dead meat. So instead, he pulled out the document signed by his father and studied its contents. There were other signatures on the bottom of the paper too, but they were harder to read. Mulder was able to make out a Thomas Moralis, Edward Sigourney and Marcus something or other. There were still three names left, all illegible. He glanced up at the building once again.



Lab
6:17 p.m.

"All right, Agent Mulder, I found them."

Mulder looked up from the document. "All of them?"

"Well," Agent Peter Miles said. "Thomas Moralis lives in Texas. A small town called Chaney. Are you familiar with it?"

Mulder shuddered. "Yeah. What else?"

"Well, Mr. Moralis is retired and lives with his wife and dog, Guinness."

Mulder laughed. "You found all this out on your database."

Miles shrugged. "It's top notch. Okay, Edward Sigourney is located in North Dakota. Hampton: it's in the far north west of the state. He is currently unmarried but has been through four nasty divorces that apparently cost him a lot of money. I also scanned the document onto the computer and found this." He held a paper out to Mulder. "We have a program that can 'decode' signatures like these. Your Marcus is a man by the name of Marcus Berkowitz, who lives in Chicago, Illinois. Very successful business man, not yet retired. There's also an Alec Harris, another one in Texas, and Benjamin Kahn, in the Miami area. But, not even the computer, can figure out this last signature. Sorry."

"No, that's okay. Thank you very much." Mulder took all the papers from Miles and headed for the door. "This will help a lot, thanks."

Outside Scully's Apartment
6:18 p.m.

"Well, I'm not sure if he left the area, sir. Agent Scully is home, though." The man turned to his companion. The other man lifted his cigarette and took a puff.

"Mulder's not there. But he will be," he answered. The other man coughed on the smoke that was filling the car. "He always comes back to her."

"But sir, what if he's off-"

"It doesn't matter. Those names will mean nothing to him. That operation was terminated a long time ago."

Outside of Scully's apartment
7:02 p.m.

Mulder sat with his hands still on the wheel, debating to tell Scully of his discoveries.

He sighed and reached onto the passenger's seat. A stack of papers sat there, information on every name on that document, except for the last unreadable name. Mulder thought. He had read through them already and they were full of useless information. He didn't want to know their medical histories, or how many traffic tickets they had gotten. Their listed professions were legit. According to the information he had, they were normal U.S. citizens, though Mulder knew they were far from being that.

So here he was, sitting in his car in front of Scully's apartment, forced to take a week off from work, and no closer to an answer than he had been two days ago. Part of him wanted to turn this car around and just go back to his apartment. After all he didn't need Scully to keep an eye on him. He knew if he went back up there he was probably stuck there for the night.

he told himself as he got out of the car. So what if he just been in the hospital a couple of days ago? He was fine.

He blinked a few times and tried to clear his head. It was slightly throbbing, but he dismissed it. It was probably just he fact he had been thinking too much all day. He remembered the doctors at the hospital telling him he should take it easy because for the first few weeks headaches could be common thing. He shook his head again. After all what did doctors know anyway?

Apparently a lot. Mulder's dull throb seemed to get worse just on the trip in the elevator. He sighed, and pushed it aside as he knocked on Scully's door.

A few seconds later, she opened the door, no longer dressed for the office, but in jeans and sweat shirt. Her red hair was pulled back in a ponytail and she smiled when she saw him.

"Great timing, Mulder. I just called for food." She opened the door wider and let him in.

Mulder smiled and walked in, heading immediately for the couch. He sat and began to rub his temples; he tried to will his headache away.

Scully saw him sit and frowned. When he began to rub his temples, the frown deepened. Then she walked into the kitchen and returned with a glass of water.

"Mulder?" He looked up at her. She was now sitting next to him on the couch, holding something in her hand. "Headache?"

Mulder looked at her and debated whether not to lie or not. He decided he couldn't, so he just nodded miserably.

"Here." She pressed two pills into his hands. Mulder looked down at them. Two white pills that he realized the doctor had given him for the headaches. But he knew the pills and hated the fuzzy feeling they gave him so he had tossed them at the airport. He now realized Scully must have rescued them from the trash. He shook his head and placed the pills back into Scully's hands.

"No, Scully."

"Mulder, the doctor told you that you would have headaches after for a while. I don't think that Tylenol is going to put a dent in them, considering you did get yourself knocked over the head, not once, but three times." She placed the pills back in his hand. "Now take them before the food comes. You can't eat for a half-hour after taking them, so if you take them now, you can eat when the food comes."

Mulder wanted to protest, he really did. But the pain in his head, which had come so suddenly, was growing which each second. He reluctantly swallowed the pills and sat back on the couch, just staring at the wall for a few minutes.

Finally the pain began to subside. But as it was subsiding, that fuzzy feeling he hated began to set in. He wasn't tired, he just couldn't think straight. He sighed, closed his eyes and concentrated.

"Mulder?"

He opened his eyes to find Scully still sitting next to him, her eyes full of concern. He smiled weakly at her. "I'm fine, now."

"Sure, Mulder. You sound so convincing. Your acting skills still need to be perfected." She picked up the glass and brought it back into the kitchen.

Mulder sighed again, and just sat back on the couch.

Scully's Apartment
7:21 p.m.

"Hey," Scully said softly. "Food's here."

Mulder looked up at Scully, the drug in his system wavering her image slightly. "K," he mumbled and rose slowly, keeping his head as still as possible. The medicine Scully had given him twenty minutes ago was doing nothing but making him dizzy. Sure, it had dulled the pain a great deal, but, at this point, he'd rather have pain than be fuzzy like this.

After a half hour of Mulder picking at his Chinese food, he stood, brought his plate over to the sink, and went into the living room. "Can I use your computer?" he said.

"Sure. Not too long though, the light will hurt your head."

"Mm hm," he said absently. He logged onto the Internet and pulled out the list of men that Agent Miles had given him. Each man worked in a fairly ordinary job, but something seemed to pull them together. Looking over the names of the companies again, Mulder realized that all of these men held factory jobs; probably low skill, low paying. He got on the FBI Net, and found each of the companies, but nothing else seemed to tie them together.

"Mulder. Phone," Scully called from the kitchen.

He took the portable from her. "Mulder," he said.

"Hey buddy! How are you doing? I hear you got out of the hospital pretty early. After-- what was it?-- four concussions?"

Mulder grinned. "Just three. Hey, Mark."

"Well, I was just calling to talk to your beautiful partner, but when I heard you were around, I thought I'd say hello."

"Say it."

"Hello."

"Hi. Mark, what comes to mind when you think about factory workers?"

"Um assembly line? Why?" Mark asked.

"Nothing important," Mulder said. In the search box on the Internet, he typed in "Assembly Line."

"Hey Mulder, you're using up both of my lines of communication," Scully called. "I need one of them back. Preferably the phone. And get off that computer, I can see it killing your brain cells as we speak."

"What brain cells?" Mulder said.

"Huh?" Mark said.

"Nothing. Look, I gotta go, but keep in touch, all right?"

"Sure," Mark said. "Bye."

"Bye." They hung up and Mulder handed Scully the phone. Mulder stared blankly at the computer screen for a minute, before a sharp flash of pain registered in his head and the pounding headache was back. "I'm going to crash now, if that's okay. You want me to do any dishes or anything?"

"No, all done. You want another pill?" Scully asked.

Mulder shook his head a little bit. He grabbed his briefcase off the floor and started for the door. "See you tomorrow."

"Hey, wait a minute. Where do you think you're going?"

"Home," Mulder said.

"Uh uh. You're sleeping here tonight. That way I can make sure you _do_ sleep." Scully said, putting her hands on her hips.

"Scully, my head hurts too much for me to do anything right now."

"Then why not sleep here? That way you don't have to drive, free breakfast, and I can keep an eye on you."

"Free breakfast...?"



In a parked car
Washington, D.C.

"He logged onto FBI Net. Searching for factory names."

"I know," said a quiet voice. "I knew he would. Did he find anything?"

"Not much. What should we do?"

"Nothing. Let him dig his own grave. We'll just supply the shovels."

Smoke filled the car.

Scully's Apartment
5:49 a.m.

The first dim rays of sunlight shining through the window would have woken Mulder up, if he hadn't already been awake. He had been staring blankly at the walls for the last hour. Thinking.

Not that it had gotten him anywhere. He wanted information, he _needed_ it. His short computer search had turned up nothing. He remembered what Mark said. Assembly lines. That might just be the connection between the companies. But it didn't make any sense! Nothing did!

He got up and tossed the covers aside. Thankfully his headache from last night had subsided. All he had left of it was a small dull throb. That he could deal with. He carefully walked out of the room, careful not to disturb Scully. The last thing he needed now was her ordering him back to bed. He glanced at his watch. 5:52. Well, it was dawn at least.

He walked into the living room, almost tripping over the pile of folders he had left beside the couch. But why was he hiding them? He had a right to know what he father was involved in. Why should he have to defend that action to Scully. Or hide it from her for that matter?

He picked up the blue folder sitting on top of the pile.

The same blue folder. He threw the folder back down, disgusted. The folder landed on the floor with a soft thud, and fell open. Mulder found himself staring at a paper he had never seen before.

It wasn't a photocopy like the others. It was a piece of paper covered in plastic, so old it was yellow. Mulder realized Kennedy must have covered it to protect it and then stuck it so deep in the pile of papers that it was easy to miss.

A simple piece of paper, bearing only a date.

November 27, 1973.

Mulder quickly went to the last paper and looked at the handwritings again. He stared from them to the paper. Mulder picked up the papers in haste. There was no doubt in his mind that the person who wrote that date was the same unidentified person who signed the last paper so illegibly that you couldn't even make out the first letter.

Airport
6:45 a.m.

Mulder stood on the line for tickets, his duffel bag clutched to his side. It was almost 7 a.m., Scully would notice he was gone by now, he realized. But he kept waiting.

he told himself. And so he continued to rationalize the situation for the next ten minutes as he stood on line to go back to California.

Yes, Bryan Kennedy was the last person he wanted to talk to. He dreaded having to speak even one word to that sonofabitch. But he needed to. He needed to know where that folder came from. So if he had to hold a gun to Kennedy's head to get it out of him, he would.

Mulder raised a tired hand up to rub his forehead, which was beginning to throb again. He realized he didn’t even have any Tylenol with him.

Scully was most likely going to kill him when she found out where he went. He had scribbled a note saying that he had just gone out for a while and would be back for dinner. Hopefully she would believe that and leave him alone. But the chances of that happening were slim to none. He had probably made the mistake of taking his cell phone, because that was the first thing she'd try. he thought with a smile.

He finally reached the head of the line, , and bought his tickets. He'd lucked out. His flight would leave in 30 minutes. Hopefully Scully wouldn't track him down by then. Hopefully.

Scully's house
6:46 a.m.

She had glanced in the guest room, but Mulder's bed was empty. Figures he'd be up already.

"Mulder?" Scully called as she entered the living room and kitchen area. No response. "Mulder," she tried again. He wasn't there. A yellow post-it sporting Mulder's scrawling handwriting was stuck on the counter. Scully shuddered, remembering Kennedy's little notes that were done on post-its.

Went out for a while. Will be back for dinner.

Mulder

Scully shook her head. It was just like Mulder to run out on her. Who knows where he was. Probably at work; just contradicting everything she told him not to do. Maybe she'd go into work and catch him red handed. Yeah, that sounded like a good idea. But first she was going to have a leisurely breakfast, _then_ she'd go chasing after her partner.

End Part 01/06