"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.
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....
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.
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.
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 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.
The same blue folder.
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.
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.
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 finally reached the head of the line,
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