Disclaimer: the X-files belong to its originator, cris carter and
his associate producers and directors, and to the writers who sculpt
his concept so that the actors can animate its spirit and
elevate ours. NO infringement on anyone's copyrights is intended.

loc's appreciated and answered; Tell me where you are achiving.
spoilers abound: esp: Schizogeny and Max
mgreten@xtalwind.net

Mulder&Scully still nursing past crises, deal with trees gone amuck

MS(R?H?Angst? "I walk the fine line others cross over") story pg

IN OTHER CONTEXT: No Reason Under Heaven

ISMS ARRANGED by Mary Greten.
ORIGINAL MATERIAL by Mary Greten.

Early March 1997

As so many mothers before her, she navigated the
foyers of DC's Washington General Hospital like a hell's bat on
sonar to be at her son's bedside. He was undergoing emergency
surgery for a bullet wound in the thorax. The bullet was not
meant for him. He delibrately crossed its path.

A tall, bald man wearing wire rimmed eye glasses blocked her
passage any further. He was not on the hospital staff, but from her
son's place of work. Although his size and demeanor portrayed him
to be a gruff man, his eyes betrayed him as a man who had been
in too many emergency rooms and had said the words that must
be said too many times.

"I'm sorry, Ma'am. There is nothing you can do. If you will sign
these papers, we will tend to the details for you. My associate,
whom you may recognize, will explain them too you and guide
you through the procedures. He will take you anywhere you want
to go tonight and I will have one of our female associates stay with
you for the duration of the arrangements. Again, we will see you
though this. Your son will not be forgotten. You have my word."

This curt man with the soft eyes appeared to be a man whose
promise was his life. A man to whom honor and duty were not
merely buzz words of his profession, but the passwords to
his soul. She remembered her son speaking of this man. She
was glad her son had picked him as a father figure for his dad
lost in Nam. The mother smiled weakly and allowed herself to
be placed under his direction. She followed his young assistant.

April 1997
Lab/Clerical
F.B.I. Headquarters.

A youthful woman opened the door the Lab/Clerical department.
She glanced around looking for any "body" that walked and talked.

"Hellooooo!".

She noted the ubiquitous clock that graces every laboratory and
clerical department in the country. 11:21. Doubtful they would all be
taking an early lunch.

"Hello!", She shouted again. Someone was eating in.

She put her papers and purse on the nearest table. She would wait.
As she was raising herself to sit on the nearest stool, an:

"Hello, Yourself" from behind her caused her to misstep. She near
landed on her rear before Danny Valodella caught her crooks of his
elbows.

"Sorry" he said, "I didn't mean to frighten you. And you are?"

Once she stabilized, he let her go.

"Denise Anne Nicholas, I am your new assistant." She held out her
hand.

"I would gladly shake your hand, if mine weren't so dirty from
moving files ... Denise."

"Actually, I am known as 'Danny' myself since I started working
for the F.B.I."

"Whoa, boy", Danny whewed.

"I sign off on memos with my three initials which eventually
evolved into Danny. How do you want to handle this?"

She's here one minute and I have to make a decision, already.
Danny fretted.

He decided, "We'll both answer. If it is for you, they'll say so. The
field agents won't care which of us they talk to as long as they
get the information they need quickly. Except Agent Dana Scully,
she will remember your first name is Denise."

"OK," agreed Denise, grabbing her things from behind her,
"Now." She glared at him. "Where the hell is my desk?"

Early January 1998,
Coats Grove, Michigan

Motel registration clerks see all kinds of people come in at night.

These two were an amalgamation. A dark haired man and a woman
both in their thirties. He lanky. She shorter by between a quarter and
a third. What would that be? The clerk calculated while they filled
out the registration cards. Between sixty-seven and seventy-five.
The auburn tressed woman was approximately seventy-one percent
the height of her companion and about one hundred and ten pounds.

The clerk's fractional analysis kept his mind away from fact
that the woman was a knockout. Both wore long trench coats; there
wasn't a marriage ring on either of them. Not an unusual occurrence
in his line of work.

The oddity was they requested adjoining rooms first. If that was not
available then a room with two double beds and an extra blanket to
shade the wash basin area would be acceptable. He got the distinct
impression they were more interested in watching each others
backs than washing them. That they belonged together there was
little doubt. That they belonged to each other was problematic.

That they didn't care what he cared was certain.

These two had been traveling a long time. From their wearied
carriage, he didn't want to know where they had been.

He scanned their registration cards.

"Mr. Mulder, Ms. Scully. "I notice you will be staying for a short spell.
If there is any information you need regarding good eateries or
directions to any of our residences or public buildings just ask." He
gestured behind him. "This is my home and the door is always open."

"We do need to be out early tomorrow." Scully replied. "It would
help if you would direct us to the Medical Examiner's office and
the Rich Farm before we leave."

"Are you two from the government? First, the blight at the
Hazelnut grove again after twenty years. Then the gruesome death
of Phil Rich. Downright spooky if you ask me. Which branch are
you from? The Agricultural Department for the blight? We sent for
an agent."

Scully looked askance at Mulder who smirked at the inadvertent
mention of his office sobriquet.

"Actually", said Mulder "The DoA called us in to investigate. The
nature of Mr. Rich's death over-reached their jurisdiction. We're
from the F.B.I.'s ...Division of Spookiness".

He flashed his badge. The clerk stiffened.

"I didn't mean to insult you, Agent Mulder." He apologized.

"You didn't. In fact, "Spooky" is the "affectionate" nickname
my colleagues at the Bureau have given me. I prefer it to my
real name."

The clerk quickly glanced at his registration card again. "F.
Mulder"

"What's wrong with 'Frank'?", he asked.

"Nothing." answered Mulder turning to depart.

Scully took both keys from the confused clerk and was beside
Mulder in an instant.

"You never let ME call you 'Spooky'". She whispered.


While Scully opened the outer doors of both rooms and the
connecting inner door, Mulder brought in their luggage through her
room. He dropped her luggage on the baggage rack while his eyes
took in all he needed to see. She knew what he did. It used to irk
her. Now she accepted it as endearing. She locked the outside
door and waited for him to pass into his room. She did not close the
adjoining door.

"I'm going to take a shower, Mulder. I'll holler when I'm done.
Then I'm going to sleep.

"Take your time". He turned on the TV and threw himself on his
bed. "I'll shower later then look in on you before I settle in."

She was still awake when she heard him come out of the shower.
She had an early autopsy tomorrow. Now, if she could just
sleep and perchance NOT to dream. Then she compelled herself
to relax sufficiently to fall into a deep sleep.


Scully awoke to a dressed Mulder sitting on the side of her
bed softly calling her name. She glanced at her travel clock that
hadn't gone off yet. It flashed 6:30 am. She plopped her hand on it
to push off the alarm and in the reverse motion swept her hair from
her face.

"Couldn't sleep again, Mulder?"

He shrugged. "I still see you in the hospital bed or dead on the
floor with your the gun at the side of your head in the warehouse
or I killed you when Modell..." He trailed off.

"Did you get any sleep at all?"

"Yes.

"How much?"

"About 4 hours."

"Solid?"

"Fairly."

"What are you not telling me Mulder? You had to take the
prescription I gave you? I told you it was okay as long as I
monitored its usage."

"No."

She propped herself up on one elbow.

"Mulder, Did you wake me up to play twenty questions?
What did you take to fall asleep?"

"You."

"I beg your pardon."

"You. I came in here, sat on that chair by the window, pressed my
head against the top, stretched my legs out and let your breathing
lull me to sleep."

He handed her a cup of coffee, cream, no sugar, delivered from
the all night truck stop diner.

She took it, sipped it gingerly and forced her eyes open.

"First time anybody used my snoring as a lullaby. I let people fall
asleep first."

"I got used to it. I've listened to you on stake outs."

She looked over her cup.

And it kept you awake."

"How do you do it, Scully? How do you sleep after all I've put you
through?"

She yawned. "It is a habit from my med school and intern days
when I had to sleep whenever where ever especially before early
rounds or exams. I don't usually have problems unless there is no
external dominating reason for me to sleep. Like this morning's
autopsy. Otherwise, I dream my share of nightmares. Sometimes, I
think, ironically, they help me through the days."

She took the bag from him and peered in. "Breakfast. Good. Give
me my robe and we'll sit at the table."

"I ate." He said.

"I'll sit at the table".

She put the robe on while still in bed and tied it closed as she rose
from it. "And, as I have said at least once a day every day since my
brother butted in 'I am here because I want to be...for my own
reasons'. I am convinced my father and sister understood. My mother
finally understands. Why can't I convince you two? You are both alike.
You know that. You both act like I don't know my own mind. But I do.
Now, my mind and my stomach agree I am hungry".


Mulder smiled at the ferocity she attacked herMacSomething facsimile.
He turned toward the bathroom.

"Hey", she mumbled, mouth full, "use your own facilities."

"I'll draw your bath". He said.

Scully almost sprayed her orange juice.

"You never draw my bath".

"Indulge me". Mulder said.

A memory flickered at the fringes of her synapses.

"Just water. But when I go in there you watch the
Hazelnut News."

Mulder grinned as he handed her a newspaper.

"Scully, You are the Hazelnut News."

Coats Grove, Michigan
Two evenings later
The Rich Hazelnut Grove

Scully could not keep Mulder from sliding back into that
godforsaken muck hole. She put her hands around every part of his
body that was above ground. He was just to mired to provide
any friction to drag him out. She had to let him go for the few
moments it took her to secure her own footing and wipe her hands
clean on the clothes under her soaked trench coat. She grabbed
one of his hands wiped it with the dry inside of her coat. With both
of her small hands gripping Mulder's clean hand she dragged with all
of her being, her essence willing him up on to the solid soil on
which she stood.

Lisa and Bobby's mother successfully pulled Bobby out. Mrs. Rich,
once she settled down from the fright of fighting for her son's life,
invited the two agents for supper. Scully left Mulder and Bobby
bonding while she returned to the motel for a shower and change
of clothing. She brought back a change for Mulder who showered
at the Rich home. By the time She returned, the local authorities
were finishing up their reports. They took Scully's statement.

Darkness prohibited any outside investigations, thus the locals
tipped their hats to the agents promising to return tomorrow to
collect whatever physical evidence remained after tonight's storm
had subsided. No doubt, another "400 inches" of rain was
expected. No traces of the caretaker would be found. What would
they charge him with anyway? He saved Mulder's and Bobby's
lives and tossed his axe exclaiming "No more, It is done". He was,
in Mulder's expert opinion, not likely to repeat his performance.

Mrs Rich spent her time making a robust dinner worthy of her
southern ancestors and adopted Michigan's cuisine. The agents
accepted her efforts as gratefully and gracefully as their day's
unsated hunger would allow. Their eating heartily was all the
thanks Mrs. Rich could offer to them or would accept from them.

The weather report suggested all travelers be at their intended
destination with due haste. Scully and Mulder left Lisa with the
Mrs. Rich until the authorities could find others of her family to
tend to Lisa and mourn the deaths of her father and aunt.

Scully snapped her seat belt as Mulder started the van.

"Mulder, I think it best if you stay here for a day or so to assist
the local authorities, I don't think they grasped any of your "schizo-
genyous-It's not nice to fool Mother Nature" hypothesis. I can't
help you because I don't know how to explain it any clearer".

Mulder drove onto the main highway.

"What are you saying Scully? You think I'm wrong?"

"It's the best theory we've got. But, I'm not the one who pieced it
together. I wrote up the Modell/Bowman report for you. I'm asking
you to write up this one. I'll attach an addendum if I think of
anything worth the effort."

"Why, Scully?" Mulder asked none too pleased at her leaving.

"I received a call from Skinner's office requesting my presence in
D.C. as soon as I can. Bodies are piling up at the morgue and they
are calling all cutters."

The rest of the drive to the motel demanded Mulder's undivided
attention. Scully remained vigilant but silent.

In spite of all the activity this case entailed, Scully, gliding on
her second wind, was not ready to call it a night. She unpacked her
computer. Mulder, however, took to his bed like a pig to mud.
Scully shut her eyes at the unbidden thought of when they were
last in a sty.

"Scully, would you think less of me as a man if I told you I was
kind of excited right now?"

Oh, Jesus, was she going to revisit every damn case they've been
on?

She placed the computer on the table.

This case had even given her occasion to inquire incredulously,

"Mulder? Where's the body?"

A clear reminiscence of their first case together.

Mulder was in the same impish mood on this case as he was in that
pig sty. Laughing and making her smile at her own impromptu
scientific explanation for a victim swallowing a pie's worth of mud,
climbing a tree and asking if this demonstration of his boyish
agility was turning her on.

She opened the computer and sat down. She did not type.

In reality, it was the thought of tending Mulder's broken neck that
took her attention away from her surroundings. Consequently, the
hazelwoods' caretaker caught her off guard, allowing the sight of
his axe to throw her mind to when her head was literally on the
block on a case involving cannibalism and chickens. The caretaker
was not nearly as threatening, but instinct drew her away from his
reach anyway.

To further dissuade him, should there be any latent harmful
tendencies, she answered Mulder's insistent showing off calls to
her by requesting politely but firmly that he come down. She
diverted the caretaker's free hand by giving him the evidence
bag containing the thorn found in the neck of Lisa's father. Both
she and Mulder shied back when the caretaker swung his axe at
the tree which then oozed the bloody red sap caused by the blight.
She sent the thorn to Denise at the lab to expedite analysis for
evidence and to forward a copy to the DoA for their blight research.

God, I don't need these memories now; but I don't need
them later either. She began her report by filling in the
prerequisite case number.

Then she looked at the screen.

And stared at the screen.

Come on, Dana, think of something to write.

Then she gazed at the screen.

And glared at the screen.

Finally her right eyebrow rose. She began to type:

"After long and due consideration, this investigator, not known for
flights of fancy, has decided the to describe the facts of this case as
the Wizard of Oz - summarized by the Brothers Grimm.

"Agent Mulder coined the title from the words "schizo"-phrenic
and pro-"geny". I have asked Agent Mulder to provide his rationale
behind this semantic co-joining in his report.

"Schizogeny

"Something is rotten in the land of OZ causing a blight which
killed the hazelnut crop and the fathers and an aunt of the clients
of a mental health counselor.

"Karin (the teenagers' counselor) is the wicked witch who "used"
the hazelnut trees and mud to kill the fathers of Lisa and Bobby
and Lisa's Aunt.

Dorothy(Lisa) spent the night in Karin's basement with OZ.

OZ is Karin's abusive father who died twenty years ago and had
been buried in the hazelnut grove. He "controlled" Karin.

The Munchkins are the mulch which made the mud that sucked
Mr. Rich to his death.

Auntie Em is Lisa's Aunt impaled by a tree branch.

Bobby is the cowardly lion who found the courage to tell the truth.

Caretaker is the tinman who had the "heart" to kill the wicked
witch saving the Scarecrow and Cowardly Lion.

Mrs. Rich is the good witch.

Agent Mulder is the Scarecrow with the brain to explain all of this.

This investigator is ....Toto."

Scully sighed.

"You asked me for answers, those are the best ones I've got.

"It is the sincerest wish of this investigator that no one will inquire
about this report."

Resisting mightily the impulse to hit the delete key, Scully saved
her tale, such as it was, and shut down her computer. She rose from
the chair to stretch. The bed she had scorned an hour before now
seduced her tired brain as well as her exhausted body. Like
Mulder, she didn't bother to undress; she had only to put her head
on the pillow before Morpheus claimed her.


Except for a light at the end of the hallway in front of her, Scully
was in a cold, damp, dark place. She had no choice but to go
towards the light and hopefully find some warmth.

When she reached the room, the light was not from the room itself
but from almost holographic like projections. It took a few moments
of where ever in time she was to focus her vision on what was
being played before her.

Scully saw herself bending over a body. She had just fired her gun.

"You're gonna keep breathing, do you hear me?".

Removing some clothing from the wound, she encourages the
victim.

"Look, we still haven't celebrated my birthday, Pendrell. I'm not
going to let you off the hook like this."

"NOOOOOOO!!!" The Viewing Scully screamed.

The EMT crew arrived, she tells them he's been shot in the lung
and must be intubated immediately. The crew finds Pendrell's gun.
"He's an F.B.I. agent and he is NOT going to die."

"HE WASN'T SUPPOSED TO DIE. THE WOUND WASN'T....."

She wipes her nose with her hand as she feels a nosebleed begin.

Viewing Scully quickly checked her own nose. "OH! SHIT. NOT
AGAIN, NOT!! AGAIN."

A scowling A.D. Skinner appears in the doorway of the bar,
notices Scully's bloodied tissue.

"I have a responsibility for the safety of the agents under my
supervision, Agent Scully. I'm not going to put another agent's life
in jeopardy just to keep you in the field."

"I'm fine." swore Scully.

Skinner refused to be hoodwinked. "I suggest you make sure of
that when you go to the hospital with Agent Pendrell."

Viewing Scully nearly wretched watching herself submit to those
abominable tests.

When the test are finished, holographic Scully scrambles up to
ICU where she is met by Skinner.

"What are the results of your tests, Agent Scully?" He demands.

"I'm fine, Sir"

YOU WERE NOT "FINE," YOU WERE NEVER "FINE".

"May I see Pendrell, sir?"

"Agent Scully, Agent Pendrell didn't..."

Scully couldn't let him finish.

"Sir? The wound..."

Skinner's voice hardens. "Things go wrong. Agent Scully. The
surgeon did all he could. Agent Pendrell is gone. Deal with it.
You've got a partner getting himself in God knows what trouble.
He needs you more."

"Sir." said Scully spinning on her heels and slightly brushing
against an older woman careening around the corner.

The scene changes to Max Fenig's trailer. Holographic Scully
continues.

"I don't know. All I know is that, this plane seems to be killing
people as it sits there on the ground. Mulder, Agent Pendrell is
dead."

Mulder puts his hand on her shoulder "How?"

Viewing Scully brought her hand to her own shoulder vaguely
feeling something not of herself there.

"Shot, in an attempt on Sergeant Frish in Washington. He saved his
life Mulder, and maybe mine." Near tears, She walks away. "I
realize I didn't even know his first name."

"Scully, Scully...". Viewing Scully turned her head as if she
"heard" Mulder's voice but she was still a captive audience of
one. She turned back to the hologram.

"Mulder, what are these people dying for? Is it for the truth or for
the lies?"

"It's gotta be for the truth, Scully. If we owe them anything it's to
make sure of that."

Fuming, Viewing Scully spewed.

"MULDER, DAMN YOU. AND DAMN THE TRUTH. I KNOW EVERYTHING HAPPENS
FOR A REASON. BUT I SEE NO REASON FOR THIS".

Her dream rant broke the hold on her consciousness. Scully felt
herself being held so tightly breathing was painful. So painfully that
when she finally did get a lung full of air, her eyes flew open.
Instantaneously, she took in the situation. She was sitting up. In
Bed. Motel room. A man was kneeling on the floor holding her
close to his chest.

"Mulder?"

"Yeah."

Scully pushed him away slightly. She was sweating.

"What was this nightmare about?" Mulder inquired worriedly.

She put her hands to her face to and brought them down to peak at
the tip of her chin.

"More of the same. I have got to walk around. Let me up."

He gave her his hand to help.

After she paced off her post traumatic fright, Scully asked,

"Aren't we the perfect pair?"

Mulder had made himself comfortable on her bed leaning against
the head board to give her room to wander.

"Why do you say that?"

"The two of us fully dressed, sharing nightmares in the night?"

He held out his arms. "Come here. let's see if together we can get
one good night's sleep."

She did not hesitate.


X-Files Office
F.B.I. Headquarters.
Same day 1:30 pm.

Scully stopped by the basement office for a few items before
heading out to Quantico. While she was there she thought to
attend to the inbox to alleviate the pileup when Mulder returned.
Most of the mail was administrative memos including the
introduction of another new Lab Technician with impressive
credentials.

Lastly, she tackled the report on the hazelnut tree thorn she sent
from Coats Grove. Never one to not return a courtesy, Scully picked
up the phone to compliment Denise on her fast and fastidious work.

"LAB/Clerical, Bryon Daniels here."

"Denise, Please."

"Just me here at the moment"

Scully eyebrows met at the bridge of her nose. She went silent
and braced herself against the office desk.

"Hello?? This is the chief Danny speaking," his voice twinkled with
humor, "I just started working here today. The other two are at
lunch. May I help you."

"Yes ... I think." said Scully tentatively.

"I'm really very good at what I do ... I am not a total doof ....
Agent Scully. I believe I still owe you a birthday celebration.
Meet me in fifteen minutes. You know where.".

"Are you sure?"

"We all have to face our demons sometime, Dana".

"Is this line secure?"

"Done as soon as I heard your voice."

"You were at a safe-house all this while?"

"We both came back from death's door, Dana. In my case, Skinner
wasn't sure I wouldn't still be a target. I am not who I was."

"So, now you are ensconced in plain sight; the lie between two Dannys."

"Aye, Agent Scully, Tis that what I am." He teased back. "See you shortly.
You'll know me when I hand you an unused PCR gel."

Scully came as close to whooping as ever in her life.

At last, Something's good. Even if it is only one less nightmare.