by
Steven M. Wagner
wagnersm@mindspring.com
Disclaimers and other information included as in part 1.
----------------------------------------------------------------
6:00PM,
12 March
Ballroom, Seven Gables Plantation
An Exciting Evening
-------
The sounds and sights of the ballroom gave Scully the first hint
of what was in store for the evening. It was an hour before the
cotillion was due to start and people were already congregating
in the ballroom. The vast room had been decorated with bunting
and colorful garlands of flowers, with the three great
chandeliers casting their light throughout the room. In one
corner, a chamber ensemble were warming up. Along the back wall,
a buffet was being set out.
The people were as colorful and exciting as the room. Many of
the women had dressed to match the theme of an antebellum
cotillion, their gowns bright spots of color. Many of the men
had also dressed to the theme. She spotted Sheriff Grimes
talking with a blond she didn't recognize. Grimes was dressed in
the gray of a Confederate Calvary officer. Her FBI trained eye
caught the subtle slope of his polished belt, and the weight in
the holster attached to the belt. Many men had also dressed in
the gray of the Confederate Army, while others had adopted the
white uniform of Southern Planter made famous by KFC. She took a
second thinking how Mulder would look dressed like Rhett Butler.
Then with a half smile she shook her head. It was nice that they
had been invited here tonight, and Goo was great finding her a
period dress to wear that night. But they didn't live here, they
were but visitors. They had been reminded of this by the E-mail
waiting for them at Brick House after brunch. Skinner was
ordering them back to DeeCee. They would be leaving Tuesday
morning. She hurried on to the dressing room.
It was pandemonium in the ladies' dressing room. In one corner,
a local beautician was curling hair. A big department store in
Boone had sent over somebody to do makeovers. An untouched
buffet of finger sandwiches and other non-messy items had been
provided by the hotel. Even Scully caught the excitement,
rushing around helping everybody until Goo, Tammy, and Ra sat her
down and let the woman from Princess Machiavelli weave her spell
with powders and paint. Finally standing in front of a mirror,
Scully did not recognize herself. Her hair was swept back, the
copper tresses covered with a band of white lace and silk
flowers. The gown virtually shown in the bright light of the
room. And the makeup made her look the young girl before she
joined the FBI.
An unladylike exclamation caught her ear and brought her back to
earth. She turned to watch one of the debs walk up, crying.
"Miss Scully, I need some help. My dress ripped and I didn't
bring any thread, and I . . . I . . ."
Scully could see the state the girl is in. She could empathize
with her, remembering how tense she had been at her senior prom.
<The seam isn't in too bad a shape,> she thought looking at it.
It was ripped only an inch or so, but if it wasn't sewn up, it
would rip further as the evening progressed. Looking up, she
spotted Goo. "Yo, Goo. Please bring over the sewing kit," she
called out.
Goo was over in a minute and watched with fascination, Scully sew
up the seam with the dress still on the girl. Scully made little
neat stitches, not noticeable if you were not looking for them.
And was soon done. "There. It's back together," Scully told the
deb, a hand on her shoulder.
"Oh thankyouthankyouthankyou, Thank You," the girl exclaimed,
before scurrying back over to her friends.
"That was impressive work, Dana. Quick, precise, and you didn't
even take off your gloves," Goo complemented.
Scully looked down to her lace covered hands. "Thank you. I
guess that I'm so used to working in gloves that I didn't think
about them," she responded.
"What sort of stitch did you use? I would have had to take the
dress off of her to get it back together," Goo asked.
Scully stood still for a moment considering the question. And
smiled before answering. "Just used some of my medical training.
I sutured it back together."
Waiting for a second to see if the comment was a joke, Goo raised
her eyebrows, a passable imitation of the master's.
"Not a big deal. Every doctor learns how to sew people back up.
And having Mulder as a partner gives me plenty of practice.
So . . .," Dana replied smiling.
A knock on the door to the room, and it opened. One of the
organizers of the fete came in and started handing each of the
girls a little booklet with an attached pencil. Scully was
surprised when the older woman stopped and gave her one too. She
looked it over. It was a small booklet of ivory parchment, the>
"Ladies. Ladies, It is time to line up for the Grand
Processional," the woman handing out the dance cards announced.
The girls lined behind her as she left the room.
Noticing Scully's puzzlement, Ra walked up. "You'll have fun,
Dana."
Scully gave the blond a questioning look, "Fun doing what."
"Being one of the debs, of course," Tammy finished. Seeing the
redhead's confused look. "Didn't Goo tell you? All women that
haven't been presented to Goff County society are eligible to be
debutantes. It's actually quite fun."
All the pieces fell into place and the panic struck. The white
gown she wore. The gowns of the young women in the room. The
dance card. Liver eating mutants, shape-shifting alien bounty-
hunters, a pissed off mother, were all things she was used to
dealing with. But hundred's of people looking up at her
expecting her to be feminine, genteel, and graceful . . . . She
shuddered.
Feeling a feather light touch on her arm caused her to look up
into Tammy's eyes. "Don't worry. Just go through the
processional, dance the first dance with your escort, and then
have a good time." Scully nodded her head numbly and headed for
the door.
"There you are, Dr Scully," Uncle Freddy greeted her. Scully
looked up at the Circuit Court Judge. She had seen and talked
with the man several times in the preceding week. Always well
groomed and gracious, he had seemed to be the embodiment of the
Southern Gentleman to the FBI agent. But now, gone were the
Judge's robes and business suits, he had put on a virtual copy
of the white Southern Planter's suit. Freddy gave the suit an
air of dignity that she had not seen before.
"And here is something for the most beautiful debutante this
year," he said offering Scully a nosegay of carnations and baby's
breath.
Scully accepted the florist's box, stammering out her thanks.
Freddy smiled at her while he took the box from her nerveless
hands and tied the flowers to her left wrist. Leading her to the
top of the Grand Stairs, he whispered reassurances to the nervous
agent. And the announcer spoke, "Miss Dana Katherine Scully, MD
and her escort The Honorable Judge Frederick ...."
Mulder looked up at his partner and her escort. There was no
jealousy, Freddy was doing her quite a complement escorting her
here. She had a life outside of the X-Files and the FBI, just
because he didn't . . .
At the announcement that the debutantes had been introduced and
that the 'Debutante Dance' would be the first dance of the
evening, he backed up and then watched the young ladies and their
escorts enjoy a waltz on an uncrowded dance floor. And she did
look lovely in the gown.
Mulder felt a light tap on his shoulder, turning, he saw
Michelle, the waitress from the hotel dining room. She was
dressed in a blue antebellum gown. The blue was one of those
rich blues, <The color of the Sapphire of the Maharaja,> he
mused, remembering a Ceylonese Sapphire he had seen once at the
Smithsonian. It was a delightful change from the blue skirt and
white shirt of her hotel uniform. She was pulling back her
hand after tapping him's shoulder with her fan. "Yes, Miss
Michelle," he said, bowing slightly.
"The next dance, sir," she drawled in her English accent.
"Delighted," he replied and lead her to the dance floor. Almost
everybody seemed to be on the floor dancing, Scully and Deputy
Fitzpatrick, Riggs and Standish, Char and Freddy. And even, he,
'the FBI's most unwanted' had a beautiful woman in his arms
dancing.
"Enjoying your stay here in Goff County," the beautiful woman
asked.
"Yes. My partner and I are having the best time that we have
ever had on a case. Everybody has been friendly. The work has
been going well."
"Good," Michelle replied. "My big cousin wanted me to ask you if
you were enjoying your stay here in Goff County. He's very much
a Goff County booster."
"You'll have to introduce me to him," Mulder answered. As her
wide smile, he concentrated on enjoying a slow waltz with an
attractive woman in his arms.
Soon the dance ended and Michelle led him over to a man dressed
in a Confederate uniform talking to a group of men. The obvious
weight in the uniform's holster told Mulder that this was one man
that took reenactment seriously. <I hope it is a dummy weapon.
Or, Sheriff Grimes will have to talk with this one.>
"Cousin," Michelle said, touching the Confederate on the
shoulder. Mulder grinned and stuck out his hand as the man
turned around. And nearly went into cardiac arrest when Sheriff
Steve Grimes reached out and shook the agent's suddenly lifeless
hand.
"You don't have to be so formal with me, Mulder," Sheriff Grimes.
<Jesus H. Christ, I'm dead. SHIT, Michelle's his relative,> he
thought, waiting for the sheriff to pull out his pistol and shoot
the agent for being too friendly with his favorite cousin.
"Mulder, are you ok? Do you need to sit down," the concern in
her voice and Grimes' face was there for all to see. Mulder
decided to be a man and take it.
"I'm all right," he said straightening up. He looked right into
Grimes' eyes.
"Good," Grimes said, slipping an arm around Michelle and giving
her a quick hug. "So, you've saved me the trouble of
introducing you to each other. Michelle, Mulder is a great guy,
the FBI agent working with Goo. Mulder, Michelle is a smart
girl. Headstrong like her mother. Can't tell her a blessed
thing," he said shaking his head. "Now, Michelle, if I can have
the next dance?"
Mulder watched Michelle and Grimes go off dancing. He shook his
head smiling, it was turning into an interesting evening.
<Now where are those two,> Goo wondered, idling tapping her chin
with her ivory and silk fan. She wasn't too worried about Dana,
with Freddy escorting her in the Debutante Processional, she
would be a very popular dance partner. And Freddy had been a
good sport about it, 'It is my Duty As A Southerner,' he had told
her, with each word capitalized. And he hadn't even told Goo
that she had owed him on this favor.
But Mulder was another issue. Great guy, bona fide wallflower.
<*Oh Shit*,> she thought, the rythmatic tapping missing a beat or
two, <Does he even know how to dance.> But seeing him dancing
with Michelle ended that worry.
Seeing Michelle and Grimes walk out onto the dance floor, she
collected Mulder and led him over to an older woman that looked
as if she was holding court. Her bright eyes followed the two as
they walked up. "Mrs Rogers." At the older woman's nod, Goo
continued. "This is Mrs. Isa Rogers, our 'Last Surviving
Confederate Widow'. Along with the Debutantes, we are
celebrating her birthday tonight. Mrs Rogers, this is Special
Agent Fox Mulder, with the Federal Bureau of Investigation. Dr.
Dana Scully, his partner, and Agent Mulder captured the woman
believed to be killing the federal and state employees."
Mulder saw the woman nod and waited patiently while Mrs Rogers
and Goo discussed the activities of their respective families.
When they finished, Mrs Rogers dismissed Goo and turned her
attention to the agent. "Mr. Mulder, or do you go by Fox," she
asked.
"I go by Mulder, ma'am."
She cocked an eye at him. "Mulder will do well. You don't look
like a Fox. I've seen too many foxes. Sneaky little animals.
Mulder fits you."
"Thank you ma'am," Mulder replied, giving her a smile.
"Please get me some punch, Mulder," she asked.
Mulder gave a half bow and left on his mission. The refreshment
table looked well stocked with all kinds of food. And two bowls
of punch. He studied them both for a second. They looked the
same. He ladled a cup from the first. Normal bland Sunday
School punch. Rather sweet. He ladled a cup from the second.
<That's more like it,> he thought. <Nicely spiked. Now which
one to bring to Mrs Rogers.> He ladled a second cup from the
second bowl.
The Last Surviving Confederate Widow took a sip from her glass
and saluted Mulder with it. "I knew you were gentlemanly enough
to bring me the right punch. Good choice. Some of the Tuttle
'shine in it." At the young man's raised eyebrows, she
explained. "The Tuttles add a bit lemon and lime juice to their
mash. You can taste it in the whiskey." She sat for a moment
longer, staring at Mulder, sipping at the spiked punch, then
asked a direct question. "Where do you hail from."
The question took Mulder by surprise. 'Where do you hail from,'
is not something that he was used to. Then he translated it to
'Where are you from,' and perhaps even more important, 'Where is
your family from.' This is of course the Deep South, and while
what you do is important, so is where your family 'hails from.'
"I live in Arlington, Virginia. I was born and my parents are
from Martha's Vineyard, Massachusetts."
Martha's Vineyard queued Mrs. Rogers' attention. "Martha's
Vineyard," she repeated. "Doris," she called to a just slightly
younger woman that Mulder remembered seeing following Mrs.
Rogers' around Aurora's square. "Didn't my GreatAunt Rosemarie
marry that Yankee whaler and go with him to Martha's Vineyard?"
Mulder's attention moved to Doris. "Yes, Mother. I think she
did."
"That settles it. Mulder, you must be kin to me," Mrs. Rogers
told him.
Mulder turned from woman to woman, <Kin. . . . What the hell,> he
thought. Then it came to him <Family,> "Well, thank you, Mrs.
Rogers. I did not know that I had any family in this area."
"You are welcome, young man. Now, who is this," she asked.
Mulder turned his head. Scully seemed to be gliding, face
slightly flushed, a smile on her face. Mulder made the
introductions. Then watched the two. Both were strong willed
women, that he was sure of. But their conversation ended with
nice comments about the weather and promises to call on each
other. <Does Scully really understand what she is setting
herself up for? I wouldn't be amazed to see Mrs Rogers calling
upon us some afternoon.>
A tap on her shoulder got Scully's attention. And she was soon
off dancing in the arms of the young man Mulder had paid off that
afternoon. Mulder watched them until he was tapped in turn.
"Mr. Mulder," a quiet voice intruded into his thoughts.
Mulder looked down to see the features of Kylie Loxton. <Oh yes,
the promise of a dance,> he remembered. He made his excuses to
Mrs Rogers, and took Kylie onto the floor. They enjoyed the
dance and a glass, both from the Sunday School bowl, of punch.
<Where is that dork,> Scully mused, wondering where her partner
had disappeared to. The last time she saw him, he had been
sharing a glass of punch with Kylie. She decided to try the
balcony off the mezzanine on the chance he went out there. And
found him.
"Enjoying yourself, Mulder," she asked, walking up to him. She
saw his smile, one of those lopsided ones that told her that he
had things on his mind. "And what are you thinking about,
partner."
"Resigning the Bureau and moving out here."
The answer floored her as much as a proposal for marriage.
<Mulder! Quitting! What the fuck is going on here!!> "What has
brought this on," she asked, trying to keep her voice neutral.
Mulder levered himself up onto the brick bannister. "Gotta
cigarette," he asked.
Scully made a move to start checking the few places to hide
things on the gown and looked up at Mulder. "None, you know I
don't smoke." And at his pointed glance, "Much any more.
Haven't smoked much since medical school." She looked directly
at him. "Anyway, you don't smoke. What's up?"
The second question told Mulder that his partner was expecting a
answer. "I'm relaxed Scully. Everybody has been nice, even
friendly. Nobody has shot at us. No black suits, no morphing
aliens that don't talk much. I've been invited to at least
thirty homes for dinner. Grimes half offered me a job as a
detective in Aurora. I was told that with my degree, I could even
get a job as an Adjunct Professor at the state university at
Boone. Hell, I could even get on a tenure track and become a
full Professor. Nice and restful. I could use that."
Scully looked over at Mulder. These were words she never
expected to hear from her partner. She could stop this by asking
him to forget it. But she would never ask him to forget a dream.
"And your search for the truth," but she could go Socratic and
ask him leading questions.
Mulder looked into her eyes. Even in the dim light on the
veranda, she could see the pain behind the hazel. "We are going
nowhere, Scully. We are seeing only what they want us to see.
We are learning only what they want us to learn. It's cost us
family members. I just tired of the fighting sometimes."
Scully reached out and slid her hand up and down the wool of his
coat. She would do anything for him, and tonight she would be
his conscious.
"Mulder, you've become a big city boy," she hoped her gentle
smile would take the sting from the words. "This is a small
town. You would get bored in months. You're used to a wide
variety of restaurants, of entertainments. Grimes does a good
job with what he has, but his is a small town operation, you're
used to the big time. How long until you got bored with your
work and got sloppy?" She saw the droop of his shoulders and
hated herself for it. But this man was used to a different
ethnic style of cooking every day of the month, he wouldn't get
that here, or in Boone, or even in Raleigh. He was used to the
big city. He wouldn't last.
Mulder lifted his face to Scully, a wan smile on his lips. "You
are forever my conscious, Doctor Scully," he told her.
She searched his face for anger, for resentment, and found none.
"You are of course right, Scully. I wouldn't survive here long
before I would want to go back to Washington."
She took his hand in hers and gave it a squeeze. "I'm sorry
Mulder. I'm so sorry."
He gave her a gentle squeeze back. "I'll be ok." He got up,
straightened his coat, and offered Scully his arm. "The last
dance of the evening," he offered.
She took his arm and told him, "Yes. Thank you."
They rejoined the others in the ballroom. And enjoyed one last
dance.
Section 15 follows.
------------------------------------------------
Appalachian Idyll - Part 15 of 19
by
Steven M. Wagner
wagnersm@mindspring.com
Disclaimers and other information included as in part 1.
----------------------------------------------------------------
6:00AM
Monday, 13 March
Scully's Bedroom, Brick House
"A Missed Chance"
-------
Tap. Tap.
Tap. Tap. Tap.
The quiet tapping intruded into Scully's sleep. She stretched
slowly, languorously like the Persian cat, Angus thought she was
like. The room had cooled down through the night and the down
comforter was warm. A quick glance to insure that the bathroom
door was closed, then a low "Yes, Mulder".
The door opened just enough for Mulder to stick his head in. He
had to smile at the sight. They had discussed jogging this
morning. And rather than see his partner in sweats and track
shoes, she was still lounging under a thick comforter with only
her hair and eyes peaking out. "Wanna come for a run? Last
chance before we head back to DeeCee," he asked.
And the answer did not surprise him. "Not today Mulder. This
bed feels too warm and soft for me to want to get up this early.
Sorry."
"No problem. I'll see you when I get back." He closed the door
without a noise and started down the back stairs. He had to
smile, <Dana 'Push Until It Hurts' Scully sleeping in.> He was
cool.
8:00AM
Monday, 13 March
Kitchen, Brick House
"Where Art Thou, Mulder"
-------
"Good Morning, Dana," the ever smiling Goo greeted her friend.
Handing her a mug of coffee, she asked, "Have you seen your
partner?"
"Not since he left for his run." Scully took a quick sip of the
hot liquid. "I was supposed to go with him but over slept."
Seeing Goo's twinkling eyes on her, "Ok, I slept in, the bed I'm
in is too comfortable for me to want to get up and run in the
cold morning air."
Goo gave a quick chuckle and refilled Scully's mug. "Those
feather beds are soft aren't they." A quick glance at her watch,
"Shall we head out, or wait a bit longer?"
Scully checked her own wristwatch, "Head out. You're driving?"
At Goo's nod, "He's got your back door key. He can shower, then
drive himself," she finished.
Goo considered it for a moment then agreed, "Sounds like a plan
to me."
"I'll get my purse," Scully said. At Goo's nod, she rinsed out
her mug and hurried up the stairs. <Purse. Briefcase.> A quick
rush down the stairs and the two women were heading into town.
8:30AM
Monday, 13 March
Brooklyn Bakery, Tammy and Winky, Proprietors
"Decisions, Decisions, Decisions"
-------
<Decisions, Decisions, Decisions. Do I have the nice healthy
bran muffin, or the nice tasty cinnamon bun?,> Scully couldn't
make up her mind. With Mulder among the missing, Goo had not
fixed breakfast, so the two ladies were hungry. And while it was
a toss up between the Aurora Inn and the dining room at the
Aberdeen as to who had the best breakfasts, nobody was as fast as
the Brooklyn Bakery. If the customer could make up their mind?
There was such a selection. Scully barely registered the beep of
Goo's pager.
"Tammy, may I please borrow your phone for a second," Goo asked
the dark-haired baker. Nodding her thanks as the cordless was
passed over the counter, she quickly punched in the phone number
on the pager display, Sheriff John Grimes' office number.
"Grimes," came the tinny voice.
"Goo here."
"Are Agents Scully and Mulder with you?," Grimes asked.
Goo could tell that there was a bit of tension in the Sheriff's
voice. "Scully's right here. Mulder was out jogging when we
left my house about half an hour ago," she responded. Goo would
have sworn that Grimes used one of the seven words that cannot be
used on television, and Grimes rarely swore. "What's up, Steve?"
"I can't say over the phone. Where are you?"
"Tammy's."
"Then get your collective butts to my office pronto. We need to
discuss something right quick." Then hung up.
Scully straightened up, told Tammy the order. <If Mulder doesn't
get in soon enough, he can have the bran muffins.> A quick look
at her friend told her that something was up. "Goo," she asked
in the tone reserved for questions.
"Steve Grimes just paged me. Something is up that he doesn't
want to discuss over the phone." Goo's tone was puzzled.
Something was troubling her. Goo turned towards Tammy, "Are any
of Carmine's bagels left?" At Tammy's nod, she smiled, "Two
with lox and cream cheese."
<Something the fuck is wrong, and big time,> Scully told herself.
She didn't know the players as well as she would have liked, but
her cop senses told her that something was hitting the fan.
Scully didn't have too much more time to ruminate before they got
to the sheriff's office. Fitzpatrick, one of the deputies that
Scully fondly remembered dancing with the night before, led them
to Grimes's office. Grimes stood up and waved the women to their
chairs. Scully couldn't help but notice that after Grimes's nod
of dismissal, Fitzpatrick left the office, closed the door, then
stood guard over it. <Something is hitting the fan right now.>
"I am sorry for the mystery. Scully, Goo, do either one of you
know where Agent Mulder is right now," he asked.
The two women looked at each other in puzzlement and shook their
heads no. Scully spoke up, "This morning at about 6, he came by
my room to see if I wanted to go jogging with him. I declined.
He jogs anywhere from an one to one and a half hours. He should
have been back by the time we left Goo's. I thought he was just
running longer then normal. And that he would drive himself into
town. So what is going on, Sheriff?"
Grimes' steel gray eyes bored into the cerulean blue eyes of the
agent. He hated what he was about to say, but had to say it.
"We got a phone call this morning at 8:25. The caller informed
us that they had Mulder. And if we do not release Anders, they
will kill him. They gave further instructions where to find
evidence of the kidnapping."
Scully felt that she had been gut-punched. <Mulder!!
Kidnapped!!> Her vision grayed for a second, then firmed up.
<The only way Mulder will be found is if I do it.>
As soon as Grimes saw the agent stiffen, he started to get up,
but when she relaxed, eyes bright and focused, he knew that he
didn't need to worry about her today. "The caller identified a
mailbox where we could find proof. I have a deputy running out
to the mailbox to collect what is there. Another is checking out
your house, Goo, to see if he is there." A knock on the door
interrupted their discussion. Grimes looked up and waved the
deputy in.
Death and evidence was part and parcel of Scully's everyday life,
but never made it easy when it became personal. Scully never saw
Melissa, while she suffered from the bullet in her brain, until
she was cleaned up and in the hospital. And her father was on
his funeral bier the first time she saw him dead. She was not
ready for the contents of the evidence bag the deputy handed to
Grimes. It was an small plastic card, an FBI identification
card. Grimes handed her the bag. And for the second time that
morning, she paled. And then came back to herself. "It's his.
No doubt." She set the bag down gently on Grimes's desk.
"Could it be a forgery," Goo asked.
Scully shook her head. "Those things are almost impossible to
forge. And it has several wear marks that I remember seeing on
his ID. It's his all right. Sheriff?"
"Yes."
"I'll need someplace to work, and the sheriff's office would
probably the best place to work from."
Grimes studied the petite redhead for a second. He had seen
grown men with decades of service fall apart if something
happened to their partner. And this mere waif has the spunk to
keep moving. "Fitzpatrick," he yelled. The deputy at the door
stuck his head in. "John, take Agent Scully to Don Wesley's
desk. Give her what ever she wants." Turning back to Scully,
"This office will do everything in its power to help find your
partner and arrest and prosecute his kidnappers."
"Thank you."
Grimes knew the score. They really didn't have snowball's chance
in Hell of finding him at all, much less finding him alive.
9:00AM
Monday, 13 March
Bullpen, Goff County Sheriffs Office
"Just keep searching."
-------
Scully had donned surgical gloves and gave the ID a close
examination. <Damn, it's Mulder's, gotta make that call. Jesus,
Mary, and Joseph. Why the fuck did you have to get yourself get
yourself kidnapped?> She immediately felt guilty for the
thought. He hadn't planned this. It wasn't his fault. But it
was still her responsibility to find his ass. And to make a
phone call. She quickly dialed the eleven digits and waited for
the phone to be picked up.
"Good Morning. FBI Assistant Director Skinner's Office. Kim
speaking"
It was his secretary, we have another moment before the shit hits
the fan. "Good Morning, Kim. This is Dana Scully. I need to
talk with the AD."
"Sorry, Dana. Skinner is in a meeting and he will not be getting
out of it until after lunch. Would you . . ."
"Kim. I need him now. It is an emergancy." Skinner would want
to be told *now*, not later.
"I'll get him. Give me your phone number in case we get
disconnected."
Scully read off the phone number then silently waited, outwardly
calm, inwardly in turmoil. Her partner was kidnapped. Part of
her was out there, God knows where. And now to have to wait
through that damned FBI musak.
"What is the emergency, Agent Scully," the gruff voice of FBI
Assistant Director Walter Skinner came on the line. No time for
niceties, direct to business. Scully filled him in percisely.
"Your confidence level."
"High, sir. This is his ID. He is missing. There is nothing to
suggest that he may have left on one of his wild goose chases."
"OK."
She gave him a few seconds to digest things, "The local PD has
started searching and is contacting the state and other local
level law enforcement. I propose to contact the AIC's in North
Carolina and Knoxville, Tennessee and start the ball rolling at
the federal level."
A few seconds passed, "Good plan. Any problems or questions
contact me. I'll be down as soon as I can arrange it. I'll call
later when I get a better idea on when I can leave DeeCee."
"Yes, sir. I'll see you then."
Scully hung up the phone. It was going to be a long day.
8:00PM
Monday, 13 March
Bullpen, Goff County Sheriffs Office
"The Arrival"
-------
Scully looked up at the map in front of her. It was a large
scale map of Goff county with all colors of little pins stuck
into it. Black meant found dead bodies. They had found five
dead bodies. Three of which matched Ander's MO. The way the
messages were radioed or phoned in would have been comic if the
situation wasn't so tragic. 'We have found a dead body, and NO
it is not Mulder.' They barked out the disclaimer in the same
breath as their initial report. Everybody was trying to keep up
the hopes that Mulder would be found.
Green were good places to check. Which were changing to red
pins, showing that they have been checked, or Yellow, nothing
this time, check again latter. She didn't know where they had
dug up the rolling bulletin board that they had tacked the map up
on. It looked a lot alike the ones she remembered from grade
school, <Maybe borrowed from the local elementary school,> she
mused.
Scully looked down at her watch. <Eight PM!! Where had the time
gone?> She knew. She had been on the phone to every FBI office
in North Carolina and Eastern Tennessee. Twenty agents had
already gotten to Aurora and were out pounding the pavement. She
vaguely remembered Goo putting a sandwich in front of her, but by
the trash in the wastebasket, she must have eaten it. And now
Skinner was due in an hour and a half. He had gotten an Army
Blackhawk helicopter to be assigned to this case. And said
copter was due to land at the heli pad at the hospital. Grimes
had volunteered to go pick him up. That was fine by her, she
could spend more time on the search.
10:00PM
Monday, 13 March
Heli Pad, Goff County General Hospital
"A Changing of the Guard"
-------
It had to make Grimes think of Viet Nam. Standing in the dark,
waiting for some officer, straining for the sound of a chopper
rotor. He had checked up on 'FBI Assistant Director Walter
Skinner.' His sources said that he was one of the younger
Assistant Directors and on the track to becoming the Director if
his maverick agent Fox Mulder didn't cause too many problems.
That Skinner was known for being a by-the-book agent and
director. And that he did not let his people down. And that he
had been a well decorated Marine in Viet Nam. <Maybe the Viet
Nam allusion ain't that far off,> he mused.
He heard the sound of the Blackhawk in the northeast. He waved
everybody back from the chunk of pavement that doubled as helipad
and overflow parking. And soon the camo bird of prey landed and
as soon as the rotor stopped turning, Grimes made his way up to
the craft.
Skinner took the well remembered crash helmet off and clapped the
copter pilot's shoulder before leaving the Blackhawk. It had
felt odd riding in the back of a military copter again. But it
was now time to start sorting out the problems that one of his
favorite agents had caused him.
"Good Evening, Director Skinner. My name is Sheriff Steve
Grimes."
"Walter Skinner." They shook hands. Grimes led Skinner over to
the waiting Cherokee and drove him into town.
10:15PM
Monday, 13 March
Bullpen, Goff County Sheriff's Office
"End of the Day"
---------------
They were standing around a map of Goff county. Scully was
running the briefing, going over the search. He looked over the
people in front of him. <A small party, that's good, not a lot
of bozos to deal with. Grimes, he may be competent. At least he
looks awake. Goo?? Is that a name for a DA? I'll have to find
out what she is doing here. And I already know the FBIers here.
<And there's Scully. Not a hair out of place and acting as calm
as ever. She's been through hell. But things sound like she has
been going a good job. She has marshalled enough forces, and has
put them to good use.>
"And now, any questions, Director Skinner," Scully asked.
"None, Agent Scully. You have done a fine job here." He could
see her color slightly at that. <Smooth move, Walt. Her partner
has been kidnapped, and she's done a good job.> "The
investigation into Mulder's disappearance is going well. You
have covered a sizable area in the short amount of time.
"Agent Scully, please log in your field notes that I am taking
responsibility as AIC at this time." Taking a quick look at the
map, "Briefing tomorrow at seven o'clock. Now, if everybody will
excuse Agent Scully and myself, we have to go over our next
step." Everybody dispersed giving Skinner the privacy he wanted.
"Agent Scully, I want you as AAIC. Now go back to the District
Attorney's and . . . "
"Sir. I respectfully state that my place is out in the field
helping with the investigation," Scully interrupted.
He moved in close to her, invading her space. His eyes looked
over the room, noting that nobody was close. Adjusting his
eyeglasses, he looked full into her eyes. "Agent Scully," his
voice low. "The soonest I will be able to get an behavioral
analyst is Thursday. You are familiar with Mulder's methods and
his notes. I need somebody to help me figure out what these
perps might be up to. Mulder's greatest hope may be what you
come up with. So get back to Livingoo's, study his notes, and
get a night's sleep. That's a direct order, Agent."
She cursed the tears in her voice, "Yes. Sir." She turned and
left.
Skinner watched her leave the room, hating what he had just done.
A footstep interrupted his thoughts.
"That was pretty cold, Director Skinner," Grimes said walking up.
"Was it, Sheriff? If she had stayed, she would have tired out.
This way she has the chance of getting some sleep tonight.
We. . . Mulder needs her at her sharpest tomorrow. And with us
working together, let's stick to Walter," he finished.
"Fine, Walter, it's Steve. They're fine agents. Sharp, good
with people, and professional through and through. Hell, I
wouldn't mind either of them on my staff."
Skinner chuckled at the idea. "One big problem, you either get
neither of them or both of them. You can't separate them. I
knew that six months after they started working together."
Grimes nodded, "You know, if you don't get Mulder back, you'll
loose Scully."
Skinner looked back over at the Sheriff, "Yes, I know."
10:45PM
Monday, 13 March
New Hope Church Road, Goff County
"Thoughts"
-------
Scully looked out her window of the Jeepster as they rode back to
Goo's, the rythmatic swoosh of the roadster's windshield wipers
and the occasional rattle of sleet providing a background for the
thoughts in her head.
<Why didn't I go with him?>
<Yah, right, they would have two agents captive not one.>
<What had happened that morning?>
<How had they captured a trained, alert agent?>
<What more can be done to find his sorry ass?> Finally the
pragmatic side of Scully came through the guilt of Mulder's
kidnapping. Skinner had told her to go through Mulder's notes
and she would do so, just as soon as they got back to 'Brick
House.'
11:15PM
Monday, 14 March
Brick House
"Rain and Ice"
--------------
Goo and Scully looked out from the veranda of Goo's family home.
The drive home had been miserable and the walk from the carriage
house had gotten both of them soaked and cold. Goo could see the
worry in her friend's face at the cold weather. "It may be
better if he is kidnapped rather than being out in this," Scully
told the blond. "He won't last long if he is lying somewhere in
the woods without shelter." Goo nodded and lead Scully into the
house.
11:30PM
Monday, 13 March
Mulder's Bedroom, Brickhouse
"What was left"
---------------
Scully went into her partner's room to get his notes. She
quickly scanned the room and a load of bricks dropped on her. On
the dresser was a hippack he often used when he was out jogging.
Empty. He carried his ankle gun in it while jogging. Which
means that if the hippack is here empty. . .
The suddenly recognized weight of her purse made her open it up
and check. Amoungst the accumulated detritus that had
accumulated since Turkey Day, there were the tools she used as an
FBI pathologist, several pairs of surgical gloves in both her and
Mulder's sizes, a disposable facemask, her reloads, her wallet
and FBI ID. And an added couple of pounds, Mulder's ankle gun.
<Dammit, I forgot, I just forgot.> She had borrowed it for the
ball the prior night and had never given it back. So he had been
out there without protection. She collapsed sitting on the bed.
<He was unarmed because of me,> came the unwanted thought. <Oh
God, Mulder, I forgot.> Shaking her head clear, she got up,
grabbed the folder of Mulder's notes and went back to her room.
01:00AM
Tuesday, 14 March
Scully's bedroom, Brick House
"Let the weary sleep"
-------
Goo quietly walked up the back stairs of her ancestral home.
Scully had been up there working for a couple of hours now and
Goo was uncertain if hot coffee or a calmative tea would be the
best right now. A knock, and when no answer was forthcomming,
she let herself into Scully's room.
Scully was in there, papers in neat stacks on the bed spread.
And asleep. it was obvious to Goo that Scully had just curled up
and went to sleep. Goo covered her friend, turned off the light
and went to bed herself.
Section 16 follows
-----------------------------------
Appalachian Idyll - Part 16 of 19
by
Steven M. Wagner
wagnersm@mindspring.com
Disclaimers and other information included as in part 1.
----------------------------------------------------------------
>From Smalltown, USA
A series by Jerry Riggens
This is your columnist Jer Riggins with another column as I
tour through America's Smalltowns. It is late Sunday
evening as I write this, standing on a balcony overlooking
the Ballroom at the Seven Gables Plantation. The Birthday
Celebration and Goff County Cotillion is now history.
The belle of the Ball was the elfin Char Hall. This cute
young lady led her fellow debutantes to their introduction
to society. They were respondent it their white Antebellum
gowns and many of their escorts were likewise dressed in the
clothing of an earlier time.
Once a ball of the landed gentry, the Goff County Cotillion
is a very egalitarian event. Today, all young ladies living
in the County can be presented. And one young lady that had
never been presented to Goff County Society was Dana
Katherine Scully.
I was able to spend some time talking with Isa Rogers, the
lady who's birthday was being celebrated. She is known by
the sobriquet "The Last Surviving Confederate Widow." Her
first husband was a drummer boy in the Confederate Army. A
very alert and knowledgeable woman, we spoke of the changes
she has seen. She laughed at the thought that Cathy Anders
was a big deal, "Her father, maybe, but not her," was her
comment. She told me several tales of Prohibition and
moonshiners in the mountains. "Violence is nothing new in
the county."
As I stand here thinking back over Mrs Rogers' comments and
this evening, I must ask the question, "Is the peace and
quiet that we ascribe to the small town a reality, or a
wish?"
I cannot say, but I will continue to look. This is Jerry
Riggins, signing off from another one of America's
Smalltowns. Aurora, North Carolina.
6:35AM
Tuesday, 14 March 199-
New Hope Church Road, Goff County
"The Cold Gray Dawn"
-------
The very pines seemed kneeling down praying in the cold gray
dawn. The rain had continued through the night and now the
tree's branches were weighted down with gray ice. Cold, gray ice
that muted the bright green of the pine's needles that had
greeted Scully just a few days before. The sky wasn't any
better. There was not blue in it, just a leaden gray that
promised more ice, snow, and cold wind. It was a day that held
no promise of warmth.
The playground that had been a buzz of brightly clothed children
enjoying the spring sun was now a collection of pipes against
winter browned grass. The store's windows that had been open and
inviting business were now shuttered as if expecting an assault.
Goo parked the roadster in the lot beside the Sheriff's office.
Scully glanced at the blond over the roof of the Jeepster as Goo
locked the car door. The humor and friendliness that had
characterized Goo was gone, replaced by a sword-like sharpness.
Scully was glad to have somebody like that around at a time like
this. <Have we done this? Have we taken her peace and quiet
away from her and her community?>
The sight of the parka covered Tammy was a surprise to Scully.
As was the basket of freshly baked pastries that she pressed into
the agent's hands. "We all are pulling for you, Dana. We hope
that Mulder is found soon." As her eyes clouded with tears,
Scully was certain that she heard Winky's faint cry coming from
the coated figure as she hurried back to her shop.
07:10AM
Tuesday, 14 March
Bullroom, Goff County Sheriff's Office
"A Lack of Southern Gentlemen"
-------
Grimes watched Skinner leaving the Bullroom for Grimes's office.
The chime of Skinner's beeper told them both that something had
came up. Grimes was not liking the mood of the room. Many of
the FBI agents seemed to be feeling some resentment towards the
petite agent in front of them, describing the searches for the
day.
"And that is all for now. All teams will check in via radio
hourly. Good luck and take care of yourselves." Scully picked
up her notes from the podium and started for the door.
And hesitated halfway there. Some smart guy just had to say
something, "Mrs Spooky seems to be holding up well without the
Mulder-Meat around." She straightened up and hurried out the
door leaving it half closed behind her.
A female agent behind the talker tapped him on the shoulder,
"Spooky's the only one that can tolerate the subzero Ice Queen."
Grimes saw Fitzpatrick start to rise in indignation. <Hellfire
and Damnation. What a couple of dumbfucks. This is not the time
to bring up . . .> Grimes started to stand. But Goo beat him to
it. And walked right over to the man who had made the first
comment.
"How Dare You Make Comments Like That," asked the blond DA,
drawing out each word. Grimes sat down to enjoy the morning
entertainment. "She is an FBI agent same as yourself. Mulder is
an FBI agent as well. Would you like to hear them talk about you
like that?"
She turned to the agent sitting next to her victim who had the
gall to snicker. "And John Beauregard Lee. You are from the
South and know better. No Southern Gentleman would act like you
are acting here. And would not sit there quietly while somebody
else was being mocked. Your mother would be ashamed of you if she
heard you."
Grimes saw Skinner through the wireglass of the door. He held up
his hand to forestal Skinner from coming in.
Striding up to the front of the room she turned her anger to
everybody. "I have not known Agents Scully and Mulder long. But
while they have slept under my roof, nothing has happened that
would make me doubt them. They have always acted like the
perfect Lady and Gentleman that I thought FBI agents were
supposed to act. Much better then you have here." She left the
room.
Grimes stood up straight and tall. If this wasn't nipped in the
bud now, there would be problems. The deputies would not like
working with assholes like these FBIers. And if the word got
out, much of the aid and assistance that they had enjoyed would
dry up. The menfolk of Goff county wouldn't like hearing talk
like this. "Deputies. You will not repeat any of this
unfortunate discussion this morning, neither will you allow it to
get in the way of our investigation. I expect you to act the
professionals you are. Now, Dismissed." Grimes was happy to see
his staff, men and women both, get up and file out of the room.
He picked up his hat and got ready to leave the room himself.
"She sure does talk pretty. Talks just like her mother. And you
know, she is right." He left holding the door open for Skinner.
Skinner was not happy. He didn't know if Mulder and Scully was
doing each other every night. As long as it did not effect their
work, he really didn't care. But for it to be mentioned in
public.
He strode into the room, shutting the door behind him. "OK,
everybody, shut up and sit down," He told them while striding to
the front of the room. He stood behind the podium and looked at
the FBI agents there and when they did not move quick enough, he
reiterated, "I said SHUT UP and SIT DOWN." The Marine officer
was back. "You guys are real bright. You know that? Making
comments like that in front of outsiders is great. That blond is
the District Attorney handling the Anders case. And the man
with the Stetson is the local Sheriff. How are they going to
think about us after what you have said? We have to work with
them.
"Now if there is anybody that can't give their 110%, speak now.
I can get you transferred today. But if you stay, I expect each
and everyone of you to do your best as investigators. Because if
you don't, I will talk to your superiors, and express my
displeasure.
"I have worked with Fox Mulder and have never known him to say
derogatory things behind another agent's back. What he needs to
say, he says it to their face. Obviously, the same can't be said
about you. Now dismissed."
<Goddamn, this is getting to be a mess,> he thought as the agents
filled out the door.
07:20AM
Tuesday, 14 March
Ladies' Room, Goff County Sheriff's Office
"A talk"
------
"Thought you might need your purse, Dana," Goo set the bag next
to her friend. Scully was leaning against the washstand in the
small room. She could tell that Dana had been crying, but knew
that the agent would never admit it.
Scully mumbled her thanks pulling out her hairbrush, and started
to brush out her hair. By the time she had finished, she started
to talk. "I don't like what they say about me, but I've come to
live with it. But it's when they cut down Mulder and he isn't
here to defend himself, it really bugs me. Not that they don't
take potshots at him when he's there, but at least then he can
answer them." She chuckled before continuing, "And boy can he
answer them.
"They talk behind his back like this, but let them have a problem
with a case," she gave a bitter laugh. "And he is their fair-
haired boy, there to solve their problems. And he does,
generally without wanting nor getting the credit he deserves.
"I've known Mulder for four years now. He has never made a pass
at me. He has never treated me with anything but the utmost in
professionalism." Scully set down the hairbrush and turned to
face Goo. "Once when I disappeared, he left no stone unturned to
find me. How can I do any less for him."
Noon
Tuesday, 14 March
Bullroom, Sheriff's Office
"An Uncomfortable Lunch"
-------
Scully heard the slightest of throat clearing noises and looked
quickly up. And stood up even quicker. "Mrs Rogers, please sit
down. What brings you out on in such horrible weather," she
asked.
"My nephew, Mulder, of course," a hurmph told Scully that she
should have known. "How is the search coming?"
Scully swallowed, and told the older woman as simply as she
could, "We have not found any trace of him or where he is being
held. I am sorry, Mrs Rogers."
"And I am sorry for you, my girl. Well, I want you to know that
the Alter and Rosary Society is meeting everyday to pray for you
and Mulder."
"Thank you, ma'am. Please tell the ladies of the Alter and
Rosary Society that their prayers are a comfort for me."
"Now, where is this Mister Skinner that I've been hearing so much
about?"
Luckily, Skinner conveniently showed up. "Sir," Scully started,
"May I present, Mrs Isa Rogers, the matriarch of Goff County."
<Hope he get's the message, don't mess with this old bird.> "Mrs
Rogers, this is FBI Assistant Director Walter Skinner. He is
Mulder and my direct superior. He came down to direct the
investigation himself."
Both the short, frail-looking old woman, and the bear-like ex-
Marine studied each other. "Now, what are you doing to bring my
nephew home, Mr Skinner," she asked, thumping her cane on the
floor for emphasis. She was, if nothing else, direct.
Skinner shot a questioning look at Scully and answered. "Mrs
Rogers. I can assure you that everything that the FBI can do to
find Agent Mulder is being done."
She continued to stare at him for a moment and nodded. "Good. I
don't like losing kin I just met. Well, then carry on. I'll be
by tomorrow." One of the deputies helped Mrs Rogers to the door.
"Scully, 'losing kin'," Skinner asked.
"Sir, Mrs Rogers is convinced that Mulder is descended from one
of her great-aunts that married a Martha's Vineyard whaler. So
she believes that Mulder is therefore family, or 'kin'. That is
all."
"Because, by Mrs Rogers claiming Mulder as kin, Mulder is now
related to half of the North Carolina State Legislature, and
several senior members of Congress. One of her daughters is a
sorority sister, if not related to the wife of Jesse Helms,"
Scully added.
"I believe you, Agent Scully." He shook his head, mumbling
something about Mulder not needing any more connections in
Congress. Scully's lips twitched, suppressing a smile. Skinner
continued, "Grimes just told me that The Goff County Ladies
Society has brought us lunch. Hungry?"
Scully had forgotten about food more than once while on a case.
And this was no exception. But at the mention of a meal, her
stomach remembered. "Yes, Sir."
Lunch was an American smorgasbord of cold cuts and soup. Roast
beef, turkey breast, sliced city and country ham. Sliced cheeses
and fresh baked breads. A tureen of Scotch Broth and one of
Tomato soup. Coffee, hot tea, mulled cider, and a cooler full of
soft drinks finished the board.
Her stomach told her of it's pleasure at being filled with
something other than cold coffee and promises. The food lifted
her spirits as it always did. <Maybe things would turn out OK,
Mulder's been through worse.>
"Agent Scully, Grimes wants to see you in his office," one of the
khaki uniformed deputies whispered to her.
<What now,> she thought seeing Grimes and Skinner through the
windows into Grimes' office. They were staring like a couple of
cats that have just flushed their prey. And a scared looking
Priscilla Standish was the prey.
Section 17 follows.
----------------------------------------------------
Appalachian Idyll - Part 17 of 19
by
Steven M. Wagner
wagnersm@mindspring.com
Disclaimers and other information included as in part 1.
----------------------------------------------------------------
Half Past Noon
Tuesday, 14 March
Sheriff Grimes Office
"Grilled"
-------
Scully walked into a tableau that the view through the glass only
hinted at. Grimes and Skinner were leaning back against the
desk. Grimes, standing more at ease, bracing himself with his
hands against the desktop. Skinner was standing with his arms
crossed, eyes down, looking at the victim. Scully had been
there. There would be no mercy in his eyes.
"Please close the door, Agent Scully," Grimes quietly asked as
the redhead entered the room. Scully closed the door and walked
up to the desk. Priscilla looked up, pleading in her eyes, the
bravado that had been a characteristic of the LA lawyer gone,
replaced by a badly shaken woman.
Scully's blue eyes were drawn to the package sitting on the desk.
On top of a kraft envelope there was a Redskin's sweatshirt,
torn, tattered, now bloodstained. Scully didn't need blood
typing, DNA testing, or any of the myriad tests that she knew the
labs would run. It was Mulder's.
"What happened," Scully quietly asked.
Standish stammered out the tale. She had gotten a phone call
from the front desk at the Aberdeen telling her that there was a
package waiting for her. She wasn't expecting anything, but went
down to pick it up. When she got back to her room, the contents
confused her, the sweatshirt and an audio cassette. She started
to listen to the cassette, then called Grimes. "I don't know
what is going on here. I've told my client that if she knows
anything, it would be in her best interest to volunteer the
information. She just looks at me, laughs, then discusses my
eating and sexual habits in crude terms. Why they sent it to me,
I do not have the slightest idea."
"Scully," Skinner murmured. Scully understood what her boss was
saying, "What do you think? Questions? Comments?"
"My bag," a request she made looking at the sanguine clothing on
the desk. Grimes went to the door, opened it, and called out for
somebody to bring him Agent Scully's purse.
Skinner asked the lawyer some rather pointed questions about the
kidnapping. Who might be involved? Has anybody contacted her
prior to this? Who might be Ander's associates? He knew that
there were things that the Canons would not allow Standish to
talk about, but he needed to know what her involvement in the
kidnapping was. But there was no new information to be gotten
from the lawyer.
Scully nodded her thanks to the deputy who brought in her purse.
On went the latex gloves, then she unfolded the shirt.
<Washington Redskins Sweatshirt, size large. The blood is still
tacky. And there's the rip I sewed for him three weeks ago.
Damn, it's his>. "It's Agent Mulder's all right."
"Are you absolutely certain, Agent Scully," asked Skinner.
Scully gave a cold bitter laugh that startled all in the room.
"Oh, yes sir. I am certain. Mulder ripped his sweatshirt
jogging three weeks ago in some backwater town in South Carolina.
Both of our sewing kits were empty, we'd been on the road so
long. It was a Sunday morning and the only thread I could find
to sew with was black suture silk from my medical bag. It's his
all right."
Skinner gave his agent a quick look. Scully was a paragon of
professionalism at all times. <She's stretched too far. If we
don't get a resolution of this case within a week, she'll break.>
"Let's listen to the tape."
Grimes nodded and got a boombox that Scully vaguely remembered
had been in the bullpen playing Conway Twitty and Johnny Cash
songs earlier. She slipped the tape in, and hit play. A female
voice came from the speakers.
"Well, you wonderful idiots of the Federal Bureau of
Investigation, you couldn't take a hint could you. Release
our leader and we'll release Mulder.
"Keep our leader, and we'll kill Mulder.
"That's the bottom line. Since you are moving real slow
about things. Let's give you some help making your
decision. Say something nice for your friends Mulder.
They could hear movement in the background before Mulder's voice
came through the speaker. The hollowness told Scully how weak he
was. "Don't give into them. Prosecute the bitch."
The sound of a slap came from the speaker. "That was not being a
nice boy. You must be punished. Now listen here Mister FBI.
Each day you don't release Anders, we'll break one of Mulder's
arms and legs. And here is today's break."
The sharp crack of breaking bone was heard, then a scream. The
recording ended.
Skinner looked over at Scully. Her porcelain complexion, had
lost that bloom that lurked behind the fairness. She wasn't
wavering standing there. She wasn't going to let anybody see her
sweat.
"Ms. Standish, you now know what kind of associates your client
has. And if anything happens to Agent Mulder, I will see that
everyone involved is prosecuted to the fullest extent of the law.
Keep in touch with this office. You may now go," Skinner
dismissed Standish.
As she was scurrying out of the room, an uninvited, olive-skinned
man was standing in the corner of the office. "And who the hell
are you," Skinner offered as a greeting.
"Jerry Riggins, of the Chicago Tattler-Tribune." He passed over
a leather folder containing a press pass.
"That doesn't mean that you can waltz in and interfere with
investigations. Get out of here and stay out of my office,"
Grimes growled.
"What do you want, Jer," came the quiet question from Scully.
Both Grimes and Skinner looked over at her. She was standing
straight, still a little pale, but holding her own.
"I want to watch the investigation, be present at most meetings,
be the first member of the press to interview Mulder when he is
rescued."
"And if we throw you out on your ear," Skinner suggested as a
possibility.
"I'll call my editors, it'll be a breaking story on CNN. Within
3 hours the networks will be here." A half-grin broke his face,
"I might even make Nightline, this evening."
All of them remembered the images from the Freeman standoff. It
would be a disaster.
"Accept his offer," suggested Scully. "For a member of the
fourth estate he is OK. He knows when to keep his mouth shut."
<A rarity in the breed,> Skinner thought.
"Thank you, Agent Scully," Riggins said with a half bow in her
direction.
The temperature in the room dropped as Scully stared at Riggins.
"Don't thank me, Jer. If you interfere with this investigation,
I'll be coming for you myself, and you'll wish that Grimes and
Skinner had bodily thrown you into the street this hour." She
turned to Skinner and Grimes, Riggins forgotten. "At least we
now have proof that Agent Mulder was alive and coherent when this
tape was made. Now if you will excuse me. I some work to do."
At Skinner's nod, she walked out of the office with the shirt and
the tape to send them to the lab.
"Mister Riggens, don't interfere. And I will see everything you
send out until this is resolved," Skinner growled at the newsman.
After Riggens' nod, he left too.
11:30 PM
Tuesday, 14 March
Parlor, Brick House
"Interlude"
-------
Goo looked over at Dana. They hadn't known each other for much
more than a week, but she felt that she had known the petite
redhead for years. And now she worried. Grimes had explained to
her once what partners meant in police work. What it meant to
have somebody at your back that you trusted with your life. A
trust that you might not extend to your spouse. And what it
meant to have that person taken away from you. The loneliness,
the feeling of loss. And she had seen the depth of the
partnership between Dana and Mulder. She had seen how they
worked as a single entity at times. They might not be lovers,
but they were everything else that two people can be to each
other. "How are you holding together," Goo asked.
Scully took another sip of her tea before answering. "Ok, I
guess." She looked up at Goo and her lips went up in a
melancholy smile. "There's a lot of stress. But the FBI is
doing it's damndest to find Mulder. I have hope. There have
been times I haven't had this much to hold onto."
Goo nodded. She sat still for a second collecting her thoughts
before her next question, "Do you love Mulder?"
Scully's eyes went wide at the question before she very carefully
put the cup and saucer on the coffee table. And then doubled up
in laughter.
"Well, the way the two of you carried on, one moment all caring,
worried about the other, the next, threatening the other with
bodily harm. It makes me think of my parents."
Scully's laughter had died down to giggles. She took a gulp of
air before answering. "Thinking of it from that point of view,
yes, I love the man. He can be very considerate and kind. He
has often been very supportive of me, a woman in a men's club. I
trust him with my life and my honor. But I wouldn't sleep with
him. Nor would I consider marriage. We know each other's warts
too well. And he can be the biggest pain in the ass you would
ever find. If he focuses in on something, get out of his way,
he'll run you over. He's done it to me enough."
"And his feelings?"
"I like to think that they are the same. He has been hurt by too
many people too many times to easily trust people. So he tries
to keep them at arm's length and not let them know his true
feelings. So I really don't know what his true feelings are.
"And there is the question about our work. We are the X-Files
section. We get assigned the FBI cases that nobody else wants to
look at. The weird ones, the ones that look like it might be
Bigfoot or a werewolf. The ones that are often real risky. We
are not good life insurance risks." The last caught Goo's
attention. "I thought FBI agents were mostly auditors with
guns." Scully sighed. She didn't want to get into this, didn't
want to remove any of the innocence that this Blue Ridge Martha
Stewart had left. But she had asked. She tucked her legs up
underneath her before continuing, "The TV show 'Law & Order' does
it right most of the time in the first half of the show, talk to
person after person, dig through mounds of paper, then put the
facts together. My job includes doing forensic autopsies as
assigned. But the X-Files are outside that norm. All too often
the crime we get called in on is bizarre to start with, then it
just gets weird. One case was a twist on the alligator in the
sewers of New York City urban folk tale we have all been told.
But this time it was a fluke the size of a man. Luckily that
time we got some evidence, he got caught in a closing water
valve. We got half of him. We've run into The Jersey Devil,
VooDoo, a maybe werewolf, a demonic ghost, even subliminial
murderous messages. "But other times." She paused, studied her
cup of tea as if divining what to say from the tea leaves at the
bottom, but her mind was elsewhere. <Goo deserves the truth, but
that cigerette smoking asshole is right, there are some truths
that are too scary to be let out>, then continued, voice slightly
dreamy, as if she was not totally aware of the world around her.
"We get assigned cases, or to be precise, Mulder assigns us
cases, that step on somebody's toes and somebody tries to step on
us, or destroys evidence. I remember the first case I worked
with him on. We got too close to a truth that somebody didn't
want out. They burned down the motel we were staying at to
destroy the evidence we had collected." Her voice firmed as her
attention returned to this mortal plane. "There is a real chance
that we will piss off somebody bad enough that Mulder's friends
in high places will not be able to save our asses and they will
step on us like you would step on a cockroach in the kitchen.
And then if our families are lucky, they will find our bodies to
bury them. Mulder's gotten too close and nearly killed because
of it several times." Scully would not get into what might
happen if THEY decided that the two of them would be of more
value as live experimental subjects then as dead bodies. She
didn't even discuss that possibility with Mulder.
"You said once that you had been abducted once. Was that because
you pissed somebody off?" <God, I opened that door didn't I.
Fuck it, Goddamit, fuck it.> "No, Mulder and I have never been
able to get any good hard evidence what happened after I
disappeared. I turned up 3 months later in a coma. No long term
damage that we are aware of, but the FBI is having a full
physical exam every 3 months to make sure."
<There is a back story there. Dana isn't lying to me, but there
are things that she isn't telling me,> Goo thought. <Classified
subjects she can't talk about? To protect me? Worried that I
might laugh at her?> "Sounds scary. How do you do it day after
day," she asked.
"Yeah, it's scary. But if Mulder and I don't keep going, the bad
guys win," Scully quietly responded, head downturned. She lifted
up her face to Goo, sadness in her eyes, "It's as simple as
that." The grandfather clock in the hall interrupted their
conversation, chiming midnight. "God, it's late, I'd better get
to bed."
Goo nodded to her guest, as relieved as Scully was that the
revelations were over. She was intrigued by much of what Scully
had described, but also horrified by just as much. She had grown
up in a house with a fairly benign ghost. There were stories of
strange happenings all through The Blue Ridge. Some good, some
bad. In the past, except for Uncle Harry, they had been stories
told around Girl Scout campfires or slumber parties. But now
there was some doubt.
Section 18 follows.
----------------------------------------------------
Appalachian Idyll - Part 18 of 19
by
Steven M. Wagner
wagnersm@mindspring.com
Disclaimers and other information included as in part 1.
----------------------------------------------------------------
5:00AM
Wednesday, The Ides of March (15th)
Goo's room, Brick House
Jail Break
----------
The ringing of the phone woke Goo from a troubled sleep. She had
nightmares most of the night. The phone call was a not unwelcome
distraction. "Goo," Grimes' voice came over the wire. "There's
been a jail break."
<There's only one prisoner, Anders. Shit,> Goo thought.
"Anybody hurt," she asked.
"Thank God, no," Grimes answered. Goo could hear the weariness
in his voice as she looked over at the red glowing numbers on the
clock-radio. It was five o'clock. "I'm driving Skinner out so
we can go over the Scully's maps with you and her. We'll be
there at six. We're expanding the search. I'm calling the
Sheriff's offices across the state line. Skinner wants to take a
sweep through the area this morning."
"We'll be ready," Goo answered and hung up the phone before
pulling on a robe and knocking on Dana's door.
10:00AM
Wednesday, 15 March
County Road 42
A dog's nose
------------
The weather had improved since Monday. It had warmed, the ice
was melting, it actually looked like it might be a pleasant day
for a ride in the country. If you weren't looking for a missing
partner.
The news of Ander's jail break had hit Scully hard. It was very
bad news for the search for Mulder. With Ander's free, her
accomplices didn't need the FBI agent as a hostage.
Most of the morning had been a daze for Scully. She remembered
Goo placing something in front of her for breakfast, couldn't
remember what it was. One sharp memory was the two walking
across the yard to the carriage house. Goo was dressed much the
same way she had been when they had hit the road looking for
bodies, jeans and a leather jacket. But with a difference. A
shoulder holster with a 9mm Luger and a M1 carbine was part of
this morning's ensemble. What chilled Scully the most was not
that Goo was going to war armed, but that Goo had accepted it
without question.
A fourth was with them then they hit the road. Goo's insistence
that Angus was skilled as a tracking dog had quieted Skinner's
initial opposition.
And now they driving down a dirt road between a grove and a
forest. They hadn't seen much, but then neither had other search
teams through the area. Scully returned to the world around her
when she felt the Hummer pull off to the side of the road.
"Scully, I don't remember seeing this road to our left on the
maps," Goo said.
Scully went through the maps as well as she could, but the back
seat of the Hummer was not spacious. "I need more space then
I've got here to go through the maps," she told the front seat.
They all got out, Angus bounding into the forest. The humans
used the hood of the Hummer as a worktable. The road was not on
the maps. "Must be new," Goo said, pencilling in the change.
Skinner and Goo were still discussing the maps when Angus came
out of the forest. He walked up to Scully and sat down in front
of her. When Scully looked down at him, he got back up and
walked six feet towards the forest, he looked back and gave a
little whimper. When she didn't follow immediately, he walked
back and tried to nudge her to get her moving.
"Something you want to show me boy," she asked the Rottie. <God,
I'm losing it. The psych team will take me out of the field for
good this time.>
Angus stood still for a moment, brow wrinkled as if in thought.
Then he opened his mouth in what could called a grin. There was
enough ivory showing to make a Hollywood starlet proud, that is
once you got past the sharp points on the canines. Angus came
back to Scully and carefully captured the cuff of her jacket
between his teeth. And started to pull her towards the forest.
She followed. And soon found herself going down a path, one that
looked like it had seen some use recently. <Search team looking
for Mulder. Angus probably found some thing they left and he
wants me to carry it back.> The mine entrance they found at the
end of the trail had nothing to recommend it. Gray weatherbeaten
wood, the painted name of the mine long since washed away. But
missing the green paint 'X' that marked the mine for having been
inspected. "This is it Angus? You want me to check inside?"
<If Skinner finds out that I've gone spelunking without safety
equipment or letting him know . . . > Angus led her in.
She turned on her flashlight and followed the dog. The shaft
went in about 10 feet and then turned to the right, then the
floor dropped 15 feet. And at the bottom was the pale body of
one Fox William Mulder. Scully thought it was the most beautiful
thing she had ever seen. And it was breathing.
"Mulder," she called out.
"Scully, that you," the normally rich husky voice weakened and
barely understandable.
"It's me Mulder. We'll get you out quickly."
"Knew you would find me."
"I'm going to get some help. I'll be right back, Mulder."
"I'm not going anywhere," an attempt at humor in his voice.
Scully walked out of the mine into the daylight. The sun had
broken through the cloudcover. It was going to be a good day.
She pulled out her walkie-talkie. "Scully to Skinner."
"Skinner here. Where are you Scully," came the tinny words.
"By the entrance to a mine. I've found Mulder, sir. And he is
alive."
"Scully, please repeat."
"I have found Mulder. He is alive."
"Thank God," were the faint words that came from the speaker.
Scully started for the Hummer. By the time she got there,
Skinner had called for the medical evacuation helicopter to fly
out to pick up Mulder, estimated time of arrival 20 minutes. And
with rope in hand, and Goo and Skinner bracing it, Scully was
lowered to where Mulder was laying.
He looked weak but not in too bad a shape. She took off her
jacket and draped it over him.
"I knew you would find me," he whispered.
She gently squeezed his hand before answering, "Shush, Mulder.
You need to conserve your strength." She continued to check him
over.
"I'm thirsty."
"Mulder, you may have some internal injuries. I don't want to
give you anything by mouth until I am certain there are no
internal injuries."
"Spoil sport." After a few minutes, he added, "I tried not to
get hurt this case. This wasn't my idea, Scully."
A noise above alerted Scully that the evacuation team had
arrived. "I know, Mulder. The med-evac team is here. They'll
have you at the hospital soon."
The med-evac team had Mulder in a stretcher and in the air in
minutes. Scully tried to fly in with Mulder, but the EMT told
her there would be no space for her on the copter. <He's safe,>
she thought, watching it fly away.
The explosion of two discharges from a large bore shotgun split
the morning air. The three took off running. Not for the first
time Scully cursed her short legs. Skinner was just as tall as
Mulder, and the ten years he had on the field agent did not make
it any easier for Scully to keep up with him. And Goo, she's
younger then Scully and taller, the math is obvious. So Scully
did as she always did, run very, very fast.
Skinner signaled them to stop and the women ducked behind trees,
everybody pulling their guns. They could hear voices, loud angry
voices, one, being Anders screaming that all they wanted was the
truck. Scully knew what Skinner was up to, letting the years of
Marine Corps and FBI training help him plan an attack. A third
blast, and he signaled the attack. They all rushed in. Then
stopped.
The tableau presented them shocked them to no end. Anders was
laying face down on the ground cursing a blue streak. Beside her
was an unknown woman, sounding like a pissed off Swedish Chef
from the Muppets. The third was an unknown man, lying there
quietly. Uncle Freddy stood guard, pump shotgun at ready, and
the three spent shotgun shells at his feet indicated who had been
disturbing the peace.
"Goo," he said without as much as turning his head, "didn't I
learn you better how to run in the woods. You made as much noise
as the bear that's running with you."
Skinner started and Scully had to suppress a smile. In spite of
the seriousness of the situation, the appropriate term 'Bear' to
describe Skinner was one that she had never thought of.
"And Good Morning, Agent Scully. White Linen perfume becomes
you," Freddy continued.
Now it was Skinner's turn to smile at her coloring. Then his
visage got stern, "FBI, please put down your weapon."
He thumbed the safety on the pump 12-gauge and set it down on the
hood of the truck he was standing beside, then took a step away
from it. "They are all yours, Agent. I am Frederick
Fitzpatrick."
Scully stepped in, "Sir, he is the North Carolina Superior Court
Judge for Goff and the surrounding 5 counties."
Skinner knew that he had better be careful here. He had been
right having an unknown man disarm himself, but you handle a
Superior Court Judge with kid gloves. "Sir, I am Walter Skinner,
Assistant Director of the FBI."
"I did not know that assaults against state judges is a federal
offence," he asked smiling. "Court is in recess this week and I
came out to relax and do a little fishing. They tried to jump me
and steal my truck." Freddy turned to watch Goo quietly giggle.
"And what is wrong with you, Hyacinthmae," he sternly asked his
niece.
The giggles started to turn to laughter. Covering her mouth, she
explained, "We're off the hook, Uncle Freddy, if they've
assaulted you, you can't try them, and I can't prosecute. And
with these same people having kidnapped Mulder . . ."
The man on the ground half pushed himself up, "I can take you to
where he is at. I didn't want to hurt him." That earned him
curses from the Swedish Chef and Anders. "I didn't want to hurt
him. Magda told me to."
Scully walked over staying out of reach, and out of the line of
fire. "We found Mulder alive and he is on the way to the
hospital." The look of pure joy on Sven's face startled Scully,
this is one of his kidnappers and he's happy that he's been
found. <This one is going to be a talker, better Marandaize
these perps, before somebody says something that might be
valuable.> The chanting of the Maranda creed took but a couple
of minutes. The handcuffing a few more.
As Scully watched the three being lead away by State Troopers,
she suddenly realized a simple fact. Mulder was on his way to
the hospital, the perps were in custody. It was over.
Section 19 follows.
------------------------------------------------
Appalachian Idyll - Part 19 of 19
by
Steven M. Wagner
wagnersm@mindspring.com
Disclaimers and other information included as in part 1.
----------------------------------------------------------------
Friday, 16 March
>From Smalltown, USA
A series by Jerry Riggens
My last missive was sadly out of date when you read it. As
yesterday's news informed you, Special Agent Fox Mulder had
been kidnapped by confederates of Cathy Anders, a murder
suspect in custody. But my column was already on the wire
and no way to call it back.
But as the news also informed you, a FBI taskforce put
together by Mulder's partner, Dana Scully and Asst. Director
Walter Skinner, rescued Mulder and tracked down and captured
Cathy Anders and her confederates. I was there for much of
the search but for security reasons was not able to report
on it.
But now, things will quiet down. Anders is being charged
with assaulting a State Judge and other assorted crimes, and
the case is being moved from the State Judge's jurisdiction.
The State Police guards will be returning to their barracks,
the FBI agents back to Washington and their offices. So the
media circus will be leaving Aurora quiet once again.
What will be the long term effects on Aurora and Goff
County? I am not qualified to even guess. I have talked
with County Commissioner Peter Lazenby. He assured me that
quiet will return and that things will get back to normal.
When I talk with County Sheriff Steve Grimes, he smiles and
tells me that the Sheriff's Office will be ready. Sunday's
conversation with Mrs Isa Rogers, "The Last Confederate
Widow," leads me to belief that violence has always been
part of the country landscape. That while the hustle and
the noise of the city is not there, the crime and violence
has always been there. And will always be there.
And now, we must leave Aurora and Goff County, North
Carolina. The open road is there and we must travel to the
next small town.
This is Jerry Riggins, signing off from another one of
America's Smalltowns. Aurora, North Carolina.
5:00PM
Thursday, 16 March
Mulder's room
Goff County Memorial Hospital
Epilogue One
----------
Mulder's room was jammed with flowers. Everybody in the county,
and even one of his new-found basketball buddies had sent
flowers. And the stack of telegrams and cards threatened to fall
over onto the floor.
Mulder was now holding court, telling Goo and Scully all about
the kidnapping. "I was running when they drove up beside of me
and pointed a shotgun out of the window. I couldn't get away.."
<He almost didn't make it back this time,> went through Scully's
mind. <The doctor said that if he had been in that mine another
6 hours, we would be burying him, not joking with him.>
Unbidden, her hand went up to her forehead to rub at the tension.
Her eyes caught Mulder's eyes on her, an unspoken question as how
she was doing. Her smile told him that she was doing well
enough.
A knock on the door frame caught all of their attention. A
tallish brunette stuck her head in before asking, "FBI Special
Agent Fox Mulder?" At Mulder's nod, she entered. "I am Federal
Prosecutor Carrie Lane."
Mulder made the introductions and waved Lane to a seat.
"I will be handling the case against Magda and Sven Larson. Can
you give me a brief synopsis of the kidnapping?"
Scully did the lion's share of the interrogations for the
partnership. She just had to enjoy watching Mulder being the one
on the hot seat. And Prosecutor Lane was going a good job of it,
too. Lane looked over her notes for a second and asked a
question, "You have advised that incarceration would not be the
best route for Sven Larson. Yet this is the man by his own
admission, drove the van that was used to kidnap you, broke your
leg when told to by Magda Larson, and left you to die. From what
Larson and you have told me, we can charge him with accomplice
after the fact in several murders of state and federal employees.
I would expect to see some hostility from you against Larson.
Are we seeing the Stockholm Syndrome here?"
Scully stood up straight, her already high estimation of this
Prosecutor ratcheting up another notch.
Mulder's face got thoughtful. "I do think that one of my Oxford
dons mumbled something about that during lecture." He gave Lane
one of his best 'shit-eating' grins. "No, this is not the
Stockholm Syndrome. I am not identifying with nor sympathizing
with my captor. Sven Larson is of below average intelligence.
He doesn't understand that the bodies that he helped dispose of
were people. He showed me kindness, bringing me sealed packages
of food and drink so that I would know that I was not being
poisoned. But he could be talked into doing violence and leaving
somebody to die. He needs time in a psych facility, not behind
bars."
Carrie Lane looked from Mulder to her notebook and made a
notation. "I'll take your comments under advisement. Now, Agent
Mulder, I'll be in touch when you get back to Washington." She
bent over to collect her things before leaving, "Goo, thank you
for suggesting the Aberdeen, that is a very nice hotel."
"Glad you liked it," Goo responded. "You from Kentucky," she
asked.
Carrie looked up smiling, knowing her accent had given her away.
"Yes, I am," she chuckled. "Grew up in Mooroolbark, a little
town outside of Canterbury, Kentucky. Went to Victoria College
in Oz, then studied law at Kentucky State and Stetson College of
Law." Her things in her briefcase, "Now," addressing the room,
"You'll have to excuse me. Goo, it has been a pleasure working
with you. Agents Scully and Mulder, I'll see you in DeeCee."
The door quietly closed as she left.
"Mulder, I think this is a good Prosecutor," Scully commented,
handing him a glass of water.
Mulder's response will never be known, a knock at the door and
Char Hall and Kylie Loxton walked in. Before they could say a
word, the adults knew what they were. They were both wearing
pink and white striped jumpers over white blouses. "We're your
candystripers," Kylie said joyfully.
"And we are here to bring you drinks, books to read, anything we
can do to help you," Char continued, a big grin on her face.
Scully hid a smile at this. Mulder could be very gracious around
women, but this would be a test for him.
"We each have 'Fox Hunt' tickets, Agent Scully," Kylie asked.
"Can we make use of them now," was her innocent question.
Mulder looked up at Scully, beseeching her to say no. "Kylie,
Char. The 'Fox Hunt' ended with the end of the Bazaar." As
their faces fell, Scully decided to tweak her partner's nose a
bit. "I bet that just before he leaves, he'll kiss you," Scully
said with a mischievous grin on her face. "And you know girls,
he just loves blue Jello." As Mulder turned and looked daggers
at her, the two candy-stripers giggled with glee.
As they left, a olive-skinned man invited himself in, "Just what
I need. Riggs," Mulder growled.
"And a Good Day to you, too," Riggs told Mulder. "And here I am,
bringing you something from the photographer on the Gazette."
Mulder's eyes popped open wide at that word. And he took the
proffered envelop. He nodded his thanks to Riggs as he looked at
the enclosed 8-by-10 glossies inside.
"I have to be going. The wireservice has assigned a regular
correspondent to this droll comedy and I am back on the road,"
Riggs said.
Mulder looked up at that and put out his hand, "Thanks for the
photographs, Riggs." They shook. And another knock was heard at
the door.
<Union Station,> Scully thought to herself watching Skinner and
Grimes enter the room. At Skinner's glare, Riggs made his exit.
After the obligatory questions and responses about Mulder's
health, Skinner pulled out a copy of the Goff County Gazette.
"Have you seen this," he asked, showing a copy of the paper. The
front page headline read "Agent Mulder Rescued." And a picture
of Anders, Magda, and Sven battled with a picture of Mulder taken
at the Bazaar battled for front page space.
"Good pictures of the perps," Goo offered.
Skinner nodded and opened the paper to the back page. This
raised everybody's eyebrows. One picture was of the Kodak Moment
at the bazaar with Scully and Mulder at the FBI Jello mold seal.
Scully and Mulder shared an embarrassed glance. "It won first
place," Mulder offered, digging himself deeper. Skinner glared.
"Agent Mulder," Grimes said. "Michelle would like you to come
over some evening once you get out and have dinner with her and
the family."
Mulder put down the photographs on the ubiquitous rolling cart
and paled. <Dinner with the folks, Shit. She's getting serious.>
"Sheriff Grimes, err, sir . . ."
Turning to Skinner, Grimes continued, "And of course. Walter,
you are invited, as are you, Goo, Dana. What is the problem,
Mulder?"
Mulder flopped back in the bed, relieved. <It's a general
invite, not a specific one.> "Nothing, Grimes, nothing."
"Nice picture, Scully," Skinner picked up the pictures on
Mulder's rolling cart. The first one was a color print of the
one in the newspaper, of Scully in her antebellum finest. Scully
just nodded. The second got Skinner's attention, it was one of
Scully in the kissing booth. She was laying one on one of the
young men that she sent out searching for Mulder before the Fox
Hunt. "I trust that you have an explanation for this, Agent
Scully," Skinner.
"Sir," she shot Mulder a glare, "I was asked to help at the
bazaar and Goo and I got stuck with the kissing booths."
"While it is good that an FBI agent takes the time to be helpful
to the community when they are off duty. But the Bureau prefers
something a little less . . .." he paused, at a loss for words.
"Personal," Goo volunteered, earning dirty looks from Scully and
Skinner.
"Mulder, what are these prints for." Skinner asked eyes boring
into the younger agent.
"I . . .err . . . wanted some pictures to give Agent Scully's
mother," he said innocently. Scully was happy that her picture
of Mulder kissing the teenager was safely hidden in Goo's
briefcase.
Skinner looked at him for a second, Mulder feeling like some sort
of bug that wanted to crawl under a rock. "Goo," Skinner said.
"Thank you for putting me up at your house. But I must mention
something to you. I found, in one of the drawers in the chest of
drawers, a rather large selection of men's neckties. Some of
them looked suspiciously like Agent Mulder's."
Goo's whoop of laughter caught everybody's attention, "Uncle
Harry," she stammered out between laughs. Grimes gave a knowing
smile, Scully and Mulder looked at each other, Skinner was
puzzled.
"Did you find anything else, Mr. Skinner", Goo asked.
Like Scully's arched eyebrow, Skinner had a trademark motion.
His was when he was nervous, he would adjust his eyeglasses. He
was adjusting now. "Err, I found some . . .."
"Pantyhose," Mulder finished for him, earning him another glare
from Skinner.
"Yes, some ladies pantyhose," Skinner said.
Goo and Scully looked at each other, "That bedroom has not been
used since my brother went off to college. And it was Uncle
Harry's when he was alive," Goo said.
"Do I want to know," Skinner asked the room.
"No, sir. It's better that way," Scully assured him, glaring at
Mulder to shutup.
"And Mulder," he said, turning to the man in the bed. "I've
talked with your doctors. They have advised me that it would be
best for you to not to travel for about a week. I believe that
Washington can spare you and Agent Scully for that long. Now, if
you will excuse Grimes and me, we're going out fishing for a
couple of days. Goodbye." The two older lawmen left.
"Well, that means that I have the two of you as house guests for
the week. I'll enjoy that," Goo told the agents. "And you,
Mulder, can have my parent's bedroom downstairs. It's got an
attached bath and a sunny sitting room that will be nice for you
to sit and read in."
"Goo, I think that I won't need to bother your parent's room,"
Mulder said.
"Nonsense, Mulder. You can't climb stairs in your condition.
Your leg is pinned remember. You'll be in a fiberglass cast for
a month. No, a bottom floor bedroom will be best."
"Ok," Mulder acquiesced, knowing when he was beat. He looked
around for the photographs, wanting to put them where they would
be safe from Scully, and they were not there. "Scully, do you
see where the photographs are," he asked.
"No, I don't," Scully responded.
"They were on the rolling table, weren't they, Mulder," Goo
asked.
"Yes, and . . . Skinner," Mulder said looking up at the women.
They all realized that when Skinner picked up his newspaper, he
picked up Mulder's blackmail photographs at the same time.
Mulder started to chuckle, his plans laid low by fate and his
boss. The women joined in.
The End
Comments to: Steven M. Wagner wagnersm@mindspring.com