A line, spoken by Mulder and Scully, not from the show, popped into my
head this summer and it would let go of my cerebral cortex. So, I must
use it or I shall suffer further indignities from this line. I think
you'll be able to spot it when you read the story.

Disclaimer: see 'The Disclaimer of Disclaimers'

Rating: PG to PG-13 I think, for murder and thematic elements, or maybe
        just a bunch of swear words. :)

Private Justice
by
Tamani R. Green

   When Scully walked into work this morning, she had no idea that 
her whole world was going to turned upside down. Mulder sat at his 
desk, half paying attention to some case Kersch had given them.
   "Morning, Mulder."
   "Hey, Scully."
   "What's up for today."
   "Some case that Kersch's given us."
   "Where?"
   "North Dakota."
   "North Dakota? Isn't that a little far to send us on a suspicion?"
   "Scully, we've gone much farther for less."
   "True. So who's the innocent farmer?"
   "This farmer ain't so innocent, Scully. Name of Harold Blanchard.
Been accused a couple of times of stockpiling weapons, threatening to 
blow up a federal building. Belongs to a militia group."
   "Did they find anything on him?"
   "Nope. After a 'thorough' search of Blanchard's property, and 
'extensive' questioning, no one could turn up even the slightest whiff
of lighter fluid."
   "Hmm. Either this guy is extremely smart and well-organized or he's
got some friends in high places."
   "Probably both. But here's the kicker. This guy keeps ranting about
governmental conspiracies and the plot to conceal the existence of
extraterrestrials."
   "And of course nobody believes him and you do."
   "Of course. We've turned up more on a lead thinner than this. Get
this, Scully. This guy lives close to Terma, Scully. *Extremely* close."
   "Don't you think it's a little suspicious giving us this case?
Especially given what this guy's saying." Scully said, dropping her
voice to a urgent whisper.
   "Maybe," Mulder replied, doing the same to his own voice. "But it
came as a direct order that we were to go and check it out."
   "All right. When do we leave?"
   "In an hour and a half."
   "Yippee."

Meanwhile...

   The consortium gathered in their London office. They wasted no time
with pleasantries. Elder spoke first.
   "Our associate in Washington has informed me that AD Kersch has 
given Mulder and Scully an assignment involving that farmer, Blanchard."
   "Blanchard?" Strughold looked at Elder with a slight degree of
panic in his expression. "If they go to him and they find out what he 
knows..."
   "I let our associate know that both Blanchard and Kersch are to be
taken care of. I am putting in someone we can trust." Elder replied.
   "How do you know this person can be trusted?"
   "Only because they hate Kersch with a passion. And because this
person is power hungry. Willing to do whatever is asked to gain entry
to the inner circle."
   "Where is this person now?"
   "Waiting outside."
   "Bring him in."
   But it was not a him that was shown into the inner sanctum. It was
a she. A very attractive she. She wore a black pantsuit with a bright
red blouse. A black trenchcoat with bright red leather gloves completed
the emsemble. Hair pulled back into a knot with a single lock of dark
brown hair falling over her forehead. She strode into the male 
dominated atmosphere with the bearing of a queen. 
   "This is who you pick?"
   "Yes. She's efficient, quick and always accurate. Unlike some of
our other associates."
   "Gentlemen," she addressed the consortium. "I assure you, I won't
let my personal feelings for the man to get in my way. As always, I 
have completed my tasks for you with ease and, if I may say so, grace
and style. I will complete this one, as requested, but I only ask that
I may do it in my own time and in my own way."
   "Why?" Strughold asked, suspicious.
   "Because, I must savor it. Be in total control of it. There's no 
way I can enjoy it if I cannot do it my way."
   "Very well. Just realize, time is of the essence."
   "Fine. Farewell, gentlemen." She left the assemblage.
   "You were very permissive, Conrad. I wonder why." One of the other
men spoke.
   "I think she'll work out very well. I have a feeling about it."
   "And Mulder and Scully?" 
   "I think this time will finish them for good in the Bureau."

North Dakota
   
   Harold Blanchard was not what one expected from a farmer. He had 
neither the rustic look of someone who tilled the soil for a living nor 
had he the look of someone who rode the range all day.
   Of course he had the requisite overalls and plaid shirt. Of course 
he was charmingly self-effacing in the way that only farmers can be. 
But there was something else in his demeanor. Something extraordinary
that lurked beneath the ordinary. Nothing that one could put their 
finger on. If Mulder hadn't been an expert at recognizing it, he never
would have noticed. 
   Harold had the look of someone who'd rather forget where they've 
been and what they've done. Mulder knew that look well. It was the 
expression Scully perpetually wore. It was the expression of one who
tries to reconcile the irrational to the rational and failing miserably.
   As they spoke with Harold, a kinship of sorts formed between Scully
and Harold. The farmer opened up with surprising freeness to the petite
redhead. He was a little more reticent with Mulder, but that came as no
surprise. 
   And after all he had told them about what he'd seen, done, been a 
part of, they still did not take him into custody. You see, Harold
wanted retribution. They'd taken him, his daughter and his wife. They
died of cancer two years ago. Harold himself was dying of cancer. All
he wanted was to give the bastards exactly what they deserved. He
neither wanted to forgive nor forget. And that was the difference 
between he and Scully. 
   Scully could rationalize it from here to doomsday. Harold accepted
it, relished it and, in the end, he would use it to get what he wanted.
And the man had extraordinary information for what most people consider
a simple farmer.
   What he knew, combined with what Mulder and Scully knew would be 
enough to blow the conspiracies wide open. But the kicker was, Harold
had proof. He had pictures, tapes and other evidence, that while it
may not necessarily prove the existence of extraterrestrials, it was 
more than able to prove that some sort of covert action was being taken
by high ranking government officials. Harold had proof that it went
all the way to the top, and beyond. Yes, beyond to those who had no
law, had no one to check them. And that was why Harold was not dead,
but why the government would not leave him alone.
   "Harold, why don't you come with us. We'd protect you." Mulder
offered.
   "No, agent Mulder. The only reason I'm still alive is because I'm
so remote from everyone and everything. If I were to waltz into DC, do
you honestly think that I would be alive even two minutes after 
stepping off the plane?"
   "He's right, Mulder. He can't come back with us."
   "Dammit, Scully! How close have we been only to be back right here,
at the beginning?! I don't know if I can take it anymore."
   "I know Mulder, but think of it. It'll be soon. Here, with Harold,
is proof undeniable. Hard evidence about the government's conspiracy
against the American people. Let's just see what we can turn up on our
own before we have to contact him again. Is that acceptable to you,
Mulder?" Scully temporized.
   "Fair enough. Com'on. We've got a drive ahead of us to the airport."
   "You want to head back tonight?"
   "Why not? There's nothing here for me." Mulder's voice had taken on
that whiny little boy tone. Scully knew that there was no reasoning 
with him when he got into this mood.

No summary. You'll actually have to read this.

Disclaimer: see "The Disclaimer of All Disclaimers"

Rating: PG, definitely

Untitled
by 
Tamani R. Green

Early morning. 5:07 am
   The Hoover building was deserted. Only a few of the janitors were
there. A lone figure stood in the darkness of the office. He nervously
looked around. He was sweating so much it pooled behind the lenses of
his glasses and ran down the sides of his face. Another stepped into
the office, frightening the man so much he nearly jumped from his skin.
   "What?" An amused female voice floated to him in the darkness. 
"Weren't you expecting company?"
   The man gave a sigh of relief. "It's only you. I thought it'd be
him."
   "No, it's not him."
   "That's a relief. You know you're the only one I trust in this 
crazy business?"
   "Yes, I know." The woman had a momentary flash of guilt. "But, 
Calvin, didn't you ever learn that old maxim, 'trust no one' ?" The
woman's smile shone in the light of the fading night sky.
   Some of the relaxation left the man's posture. "What do you mean?"
   "I meant exactly what I said."
   "You can't be working for him."
   "You introduced me to him, Uncle. You put me in this whole nasty
mess. You ruined my life and now it's time for me to regain some
control."
   "You double-dealing bitch!"
   "Fuck you, Uncle Calvin." A single shot rang out in the stillness
of the building. The woman left the office quickly and quietly, her
steps radiating confidence.

8:55 am
FBI HQ
   "Mulder, why is your ass on my desk?"
   "Where else would my ass be, Scully?" He asked in all innocence.
   "Move it or lose it."
   Mulder got off of her desk. Scully went around him and sat in the
chair. Mulder was waving a piece of paper under Scully's nose.
   "What do you got there Mulder?"
   "A memo."
   "Written interoffice communication? We must be high on *somebody's*
list."
   "It depends on the list."
   "What does it say, Mulder?"
   "We're to meet with some chick named, uh, lemme look at this again,
Mortenson, Fiona."
   "Why?"
   "It doesn't say. She's in Kersch's office." Mulder made a face
expressing his feelings toward his new boss.
   Scully gave a half smile. "Well, let's go down there."
   They went down to Kersch's office, or where Kersch's office *used*
to be. One of the maintenence guys was busily stripping the AD's name
from the glass panel of the door. Kersch's blonde bimbo of a secretary
was gone. In her place was an earnest looking young man with a name
plate that read "Andrew." 
   Mulder and Scully looked at each other confusedly while standing 
in the outer office, which, thankfully, hadn't changed. While they 
stood in the doorway, someone came crashing into them from behind.
   "OOOF!" All three grunted in unison.
   Mulder and Scully turned around to see another young man carrying a 
huge bouquet of flowers. "Andrew" came from behind his desk to 
intercept the flowers and sign for them. Several more messengers came
in and out, each bearing something. Mostly flowers, some balloons, 
the balloons said "Happy Birthday!" on them. There were some huge
boxes of candy. The last was a pure black kitten in a small pet
carrier. After all the hubbub died down, "Andrew" noticed the confused
duo standing amidst the chaos.
   "I didn't see you standing there." Andrew shook their hands. 
"Fiona's been waiting for you."
   "Thank you." Scully said. 
   They went to the closed office door and Mulder knocked once, then
opened the door. The inner office was a sight to behold. Gone was the
assortment of standard office furniture. The familiar black leather
couches were gone. In their place were flaming red velvet sofas and
arm chairs. The wood desk, tables and shelves were replaced by black
and chrome tables, shelves and desk. A black and red Persian rug with
touches of silver and white lay under the modern coffee table. There
were plants scattered here and there. Almost every available surface
had a photograph on it. Smiling people, some in t-shirts and shorts,
some in evening wear, some in business suits, gazed out from behind 
the glass frames, looking like they were having the time of their 
lives. The assorted birthday gifts competed for space with the various
journals and paperwork scattered around the room. And in the middle of
the miasma of stuff, she sat - on the floor.
   Young, very pretty, heavy set, dark hair scraped back into a bun.
She had skin the color of toasted almonds, small nose. She wore a neat 
black pantsuit with a flame red blouse. Small rubies twinkled in her
ears and at her throat. New gifts, judging from the small velvet boxes 
that sat on the desk. She was wading through the endless paperwork the
Bureau always seems to generate. Mulder cleared his throat.
   "Oh! Hello! I didn't see you there." She laid the papers aside.
She was barefoot. Nice feet, Mulder saw, toes lacquered with crimson
polish. She got up and slipped on the black suede four inch pumps.
   "I was just about to come and see you two, you know." She held out
a hand to each of them. 
   "Saved you the trip." Mulder replied, smiling, turning the charm on 
the small female.
   And small was the operative word. She wasn't even Scully's height.
She could fit right in his armpit.
   "Well, have a seat, agents." She gestured to the overstuffed red
velvet chairs that sat in front of the black and glass desk. They sat.
   "My name is Fiona. I'm your new boss." Silence. "Close your mouths,
agents." She grinned at them. Scully recovered first.
   "What happened to AD Kersch?"
   "AD Kersch was found early this morning with a gunshot wound to the
head, self-inflicted it appears, right about where the two of you are 
sitting." Mulder and Scully grimaced. "I'm sorry. Are you two squeamish
about such things?" Giving them a sympathetic look, Fiona continued.
   "The official investigation is being conducted as we speak, but the
powers that be didn't want you two to be without authority for too 
long, so they hustled me in here. I had to work fast to get the place
habitable. Kersch never did have much style."
   Mulder took offense at that 'authority' comment. "What? They think
Scully and I need a keeper?!" 
   "Exactly. But I'm of the opinion that they need keepers. But here I
am, and we have to deal together. I've read your files. You two are 
very interesting. I like interesting. I think it's crescent fresh. Two
things I want you to know: one, I expect the same level of performance
you gave to AD Skinner, and two, that you never call me ma'am or my
last name."
   "I have two questions, one: how old are you and two: what do we get
in return?" Mulder asked warily.
   "I turned twenty-nine today. I have a question for you: what do you 
want, Agent Mulder?"
   "I think you already know." He answered.
   Scully listened to their by-play intently.
   "Look, I will try to help the two of you anyway that I can, but you
have to help yourselves. Earning a rep as a couple of rogue agents 
isn't cool. There's no way that you'll get the X-files back acting the
way that you have. Just cooperate with me and if certain, shall we say,
irregularites should come up in cases that just *happen* to come across
my desk, well, I see no problem in assigning them to you. Do you see a
problem with that?"
   "Absolutely not." Scully said, and smiled at their new boss. "But I
have to wonder," she continued, suddenly becoming Chatty Cathy, "what
do you stand to gain in all this?"
   "Frankness, I admire that." Fiona gave a short laugh. "I have...
issues, with Agent Spender. Honestly, the little worm turns my stomach.
If there's anything that I can do to piss him off, then it's *well*
worth my time and trouble."
   Mulder spoke at this last. "I don't want to be used as your personal
tool for revenge on Spender. I don't want the X-files back that way."
   Fiona's pleasant face took on a hardness that was shocking in its
suddeness. "Look, Mulder, I have the power to make your life *very*
unpleasant. Either you cooperate with me or it's 'bye-bye, X-files'. 
You got me?"
   He nodded, suddenly wary of this female.
   "And besides, I don't like governmental conspiracies. They tend to
chafe in the most uncomfortable places." She gave them a conspiratorial
grin. "I think I've said enough. Here's your new assignment." Fiona
handed them a manila folder. "There's been some stir in Nebraska about
some militia group barracading themselves in their bomb shelter while
they get ready to take out the federal building in Lincoln. I want you
two to check it out. . I've already arranged for your plane tickets,
rental car and accomodations. Oh, by the way, there've been a rash of
crop circles in the surrounding areas." They looked at her mutely.
    "Why are you sitting here looking at me for? Get going. Daylight's
burning, agents." 
   They got up, bemused expressions on their faces. When they went to 
exit the office, Fiona piped up behind them, "I want you two to know
you two have a *friend* in the FBI."
   Mulder and Scully left the office quickly.