Here is a story that is set at the time of Mulder and Scully's second case
together. It's just a short piece dealing with some of what we didn't
see. It's turning into a long summer without an X-File fix. Anyway, the
characters and the series still belong to Chris Carter, Fox, Ten Thirteen,
etc. and I am just borrowing them. I wouldn't dreamof changing their
wonderful series!

I can be contacted as macspooky@erols.com on my brand new Macintosh
computer.

Second Case

by

Macspooky

Motel Room by Ellen's Air Force Base

Agent Dana Scully, all five feet one inch of her, glared at her
recently assigned partner Fox Mulder. She glared up at him cursing the
fates for having designated her to be the one to deal with a man who was
totally looney tunes. Hell, looney toons wasn't the right word for it.
Looney tunes were fun, wild and wacky, entertaining. This man was just
crazy. This hadn't been in her job description. She had her hand on her
hip and her lower lip stuck out. Her read hair shown in the light.

"I said take off the goddam shirt, Mulder, now." She took a step
closer to him.

Fox Mulder, all six foot plus of him, took a step backwards. He
didn't like to admit that he might be just the tiniest bit intimidated by
the little woman they had sent to spy on him. He had read her file. She
had brothers....two of them, and it was obvious that from a very young age,
she had learned not to take any crap from either of them.

"Last I heard, Agent Scully, I was the Section Chief of the X-Files
Division and the Senior Agent in charge of the case." He glared down at
her. Couldn't let her start bossing him around. It simply wouldn't do.

"Oh, yeah.....well last I heard I was the one with the MD after my
name, and you were the one that received a rather hard punch in the kidney.
The shirt comes off."

"You are a forensic pathologist. All your patients are dead."

"And you are a prime example of why I chose the field I did, so
that my patients wouldn't be a pain in the ass.....So, unless you want to
end up in my favorite autopsy bay.....I'd advise you to take off your
shirt....now....." She took another step forward. Suddenly the motel room
they were in seemed a bit too cramped. She was awfully close to having him
backed against the wall. He would have to remember this next time he had a
conversation with his partner. He would make certain he stood near the
nearest fire exit or other method of escape. The lip came out a little
further, and her tiny frame moved just a little closer. Fox Mulder
capitulated unconditionally. The shirt came off.

His partner's body relaxed visibly. She had won. Ever so gently
began to probe the area where the other agent, the man who was supposed to
be on the same side, had punched him. Although she knew he was trying not
to, she felt him wince. If only she could have found out who that man was,
she would have reported him.

He had hit Mulder not because he had had to, but because he liked
to. Agents like that were dangerous, and in this case they worked for the
same government after all. Mulder had not been a suspect trying to flee.

She gave his back a single gentle rub.

"You are going to have a really nasty bruise there, Mulder," she
said softly. "I want you to promise me that you will tell me if you
experience any backache or detect any blood in your urine, and as soon as
we get back to DC, I want you to have a urinalysis done.....promise?"

Fox Mulder nodded. He had been impressed by the almost delicate
way she had touched him, the caring way. She may have been a spy and a
pain in his butt, but her concern for his physical well being was genuine
and touching. The gentle way she rubbed his back had sent a tingle through
him...touched him deeply. Not many people cared whether Fox Mulder lived or
died. In fact, sometimes he felt that more would have preferred him
dead.

Her advise made sense, and so, he just nodded quietly. Still, he
didn't want to pursue the subject any further. After all he had lost the
battle of the removed clothing, so he put his shirt on and they began to
discuss the case....well...discuss wasn't exactly how it turned out....more
like argue about. He found himself getting really ticked off at her,
excellent bedside manner aside. How could she be so naive as to trust a
government that had acknowledged in the past experimenting on people? How
could she be foolish enough to believe that they wouldn't do it again?
Worse yet, how could someone of her considerable intellect be so totally
incurious? When she shoved the case notes she had picked up back in her
brief case by way of telling him that the investigation was at an end and
they were going back to Washington whether he liked it or not, something
inside of Fox Mulder snapped. Well, if he couldn't win a direct argument,
he would have to try something different. By this time, he had eased
himself over toward the door.

"Okay, Scully, I'll go get packed and we'll go back to Washington. "

He left a relieved Agent Scully standing there watching him leave
her room for his own, but not for very long. He hopped into the car and
sped off to pursue his investigation on his own catching only the barest
glimpse of a tiny redheaded woman chasing after him in the parking lot,
probably screaming like a harridan. He smiled slightly to himself. He had
successfully ditched her...lost his little spy...and now he could locate
the two teenagers who liked to sneak into Ellen's Air force Base and get
directions to the place where all the strange and "cool" things had been
seen.

Cursing under her breath, Scully returned to her motel room.
<Damn, damn Mulder anyway. > How the hell had she gotten stuck with such a
nut case? Why the hell couldn't she have been left alone in her autopsy
bay at Quantico? She had had to rent an apartment.....move to DC.....and
for what? To be saddled with the Bureau's biggest nut case? Now she was
going to have to pick up the phone and call Washington and tell Blevins
there would be a delay in coming back. How the hell was she supposed to
cover for Mulder? Why the hell should she anyway? Because he was her
partner, she realized, and because someone driving a government car and on
the same payroll had destroyed his film, and for no good reason landed a
blow to his kidney that could have put him in the hospital, and in fact,
still might.

Dana picked up the phone not yet knowing what she was going to say.
It wasn't working. She cursed again. Well, she'd go to the motel office
and and see if she could make her call from there. She would think of some
plausible story on the way. It was Special Agent Scully's second case as a
field agent. She made a very bad mistake, one that she would never forget
in light of what followed. She left her weapon on the nightstand next to
her motel room bed. It could have cost her her life, but in retrospect
later on, she realized that, even worse, it could have cost her partner's
life. It was fortunate for her that the Ellen's Air Force Base Security
Officer that she soon tangled with kept a spare gun in his glove
compartment and that he grossly underestimated her strength, speed and
spunk. Her own moments of terror as the man who had posed as a local
reporter came after her aside, Scully did not think she could have lived
with herself if her carelessness had caused her partner's demise somehow.
She might have thought him crazy, but Fox Mulder was after all, a human
being and and yes, like it or not, her partner.

________________________________________________
On the Road Leaving Ellen's Air Force Base

Dana was worried....no, Dr. Scully was worried. As she drove away
from Ellen's Air Force Base just as quickly as she could, she glanced at
her partner sidelong. Whatever they had done to him, it had left him
gravely ill. It had been a mistake to let him stop at Mrs. Budahas' place.
They should have just gotten their luggage and gotten out of dodge as
quickly as possible. As a result of her giving in to him, she had been
unable to book a flight to Washington until late the next day, and she sure
as hell wasn't about to hang around where they were.

Mulder had been so out of it, she had had to pack for him. He
hadn't been able to do more than just sit in the chair, and of course, they
had had a fight.

"Let me take your temperature, Mulder. I think you are running a
fever."

"I'm fine, Scully. Leave me alone." He wasn't fine and he knew
it. Something was missing from his brain and his goddamed partner wanted
to stick a thermometer in his mouth. Who the hell cared about a fever when
your brain had been rewired and there was a coverup going on all around
you? Petty minded....that's what she was.....petty minded.

"Open your mouth now, Mulder, or I swear to God that I am going to
take this thermometer and put it someplace the sun doesn't shine." She had
been pretty darn fed up. Her own head was starting to pound as the
adrenaline levels she had been functioning on dropped and her heart had
begun to regain a normal rhythm. "I'm not in the mood for any s**t from
you right now." He had realized that if she swore like that, she must be
pretty pissed. It wasn't her normal style, or at least not that he had
seen in their brief acquaintance.

Well, he'd been in the hospital enough to know exactly what place
she was talking about, and he'd supposed it was true that he had caused her
a hell of a lot of trouble. A part of him had wanted to argue with her,
but the trouble was, he hadn't seemed to have the strength to fight her,
or even negotiate, so he had opened his mouth. Sure enough he had been
running a fever.

Mulder caught her looking at him as she drove and informed her
crankily that she should keep her eyes on the damned road. He knew she
was right about leaving the town they had been staying in as quickly as
possible, but it felt a little too much like giving in to authority and he
had a problem with authority. Besides, all he wanted to do was sleep.

"Scully, stop the car...." he ordered suddenly.

"What? I......"

"Just stop the damned car," he snapped. It had barely ceased
moving before he jumped out and started to vomit. It left him so weak
that he fell to his knees.

Quietly, gently, Scully took his handkerchief and wiped his mouth.
She helped him back on his feet and into the car. Wordlessly, she did a u
turn. At the last intersection she had seen a sign that had said hospital.
She hoped it was small and that the doctor on staff was near the end of
his shift and tired. She didn't want anyone asking too many questions
about a pair of FBI Agents from Washington DC appearing at the emergency
room door. Dana Scully was scared, and she wasn't even certain of what
anymore.

By the time they reached the ER, he wasn't protesting too much. He
was sick again in the parking lot, and was grateful for the gurney that was
wheeled out.

Dana lied. She told them that since the possible injury was case
related blood and urine samples had to be sent back to DC. She would have
it tested for drugs. They took her at her word although insisted that they
run their own as well. She thought she would wait forever for the results.
Finally, the young tired looking doctor came into the cubicle where
Mulder was laying silently and she was waiting anxiously. He had, as she
had hoped, been on duty a long time. His eyes were heavy and he needed a
shave. He would be too exhausted to question her closely.

"Well, Dr. Scully, it would seem that you were right about the
injury to the kidney. It's badly bruised and there is blood and bacteria
in his urine. There is also indication of concussion. I'd like to admit
him."

"Um......that is going to be difficult, Dr. Spencer," she said
quietly. "We are on the road. In view of the fact that I am a physician,
perhaps I can administer the treatment....."

Fox Mulder took all this in. Jeez, no one was asking him how he
felt about any of it. It was as though Dana Scully had taken over his life
all of a sudden. It rankled. On the other hand, he knew if he got up to
protest, he would probably start to vomit again and jeez....he didn't want
to do that either. He'd already made enough of a fool of himself puking
his guts up in front of her the first two times. All he really wanted to
do was to sleep.....
to sleep and not wake up. And how the hell had he gotten a concussion?
They had probably made it look that way when they had rewired his brain.
Well, he had better not say anything. Scully would just say that someone
had banged him on the head. She would have her nice logical explanation
..... but he knew his brain had been tampered with...he knew it.

An Anonymous Motel Room Away from the Hospital

She pulled the covers up over him gently. They had remained at the
hospital long enough for them to pump him up with an IV full of
antibiotics. Then, Dana had filled several prescriptions. She had found a
motel off the beaten path and checked in, not bothering to tell them that
Mulder was in the car. She had used her mother's maiden name and paid
cash, and had reversed the digits on the license plate number of the rent a
car. She felt she was getting paranoid. That was okay. She had been,
after a fashion when Dr. Spencer had told her that he had a mild
concussion. At least now she could deal rationally with his rewired brain
syndrome. Still, she couldn't quite manage to get the hairs on the back of
her neck to lay flat....Jeez....if she worked with Mulder long enough, she
would be as nutty as him.

When Mulder dozed off, she made a phone call from a nearby pay
phone. She didn't want to be traced to the motel.

Mr. Blevins, Sir....I don't know what is going on here, but I've
just spent the past several hours in the ER with Agent Mulder where he was
put by another agent. .... No, Sir, I don't know what agency and the
license plates on their car were bogus......No, Sir, I'd just as soon not
reveal my whereabouts for the moment....not until we get out of
Idaho....We'll be back in DC as soon as Mulder is fit to travel."

With that she hung up the phone. He hadn't been happy with her.
That was obvious, but she'd have to deal with that later. She'd think of
something, and it was documented that he had been injured. She would have
the hospital receipts and pharmacy receipts to prove it and a diagnosis
from a certified physician other than herself. Cover your ass....famous
government employee motto. They couldn't crucify you for being sick.

Fox woke up in the middle of the night screaming.... Samantha.....
Samantha.....Suddenly he realized that he was not alone. He reached for
his weapon as the light snapped on and then moaned in pain as he twisted
his side.

"It's alright," she said quietly. "It's alright....it was just a
bad dream."

His tiny red haired partner sat at the edge of his bed. Her hair
was in disarray and her eyes were puffy from sleep. She wore a pair of
modest blue satin pajamas. He fell back and cursed silently. He didn't
want anyone to know about the nightmares....hadn't wanted anyone to find
out. It was why he never spent entire nights with women, why he always
"loved em and left em" just as quickly as he could afterwards. He would
dream and they would become frightened, all except one, one woman a long
time ago. He had dreamed and she had taunted him. Now his partner
knew....his personal spy had heard him screaming. What if she reported it?

"What the hell are you doing in my room, Scully?" he demanded
gruffly although he knew. He had been sicker than he had ever cared to
admit.

"There was only one room available," she said with a slight smile.
She got a damp cloth and wiped his sweat soaked face. Then she got out her
thermometer.

"I don't need my temperature taken," he snapped. He was starting
to hate the sight of that thermometer.

"Shut down your voice box and open your mouth, Mulder, or I'll put
this thermometer where the sun doesn't shine." This time the words were
said without rancor in slightly bemused fashion as though it was becoming a
habit and he complied without further fuss.

"The fever has broken. I think you'll be okay partner." She
patted his hand gently.

He just nodded. He didn't like to admit that the touch felt good,
that it was what he needed just then. For the second time that day, he had
become very aware of her physical presence.

"I'm sorry the dream woke you from a sound sleep, Mulder. It must
be terrible dreaming about your sister. I know how you miss her." She
looked at him for a moment with true concern. Seeing that he really didn't
want to discuss it, she didn't push it. "Is your stomach still upset?"

"Kind of," he replied searching her face. There was nothing there
but concern and genuine sympathy. She would not taunt him with his
nightmare, nor would she be frightened by them.

"Well, the bad dreams will be our secret. Let me help you up so
you can go to the bathroom, and I'll get you something for your stomach.
Then, I for one want to get some more sleep before we head back to DC
later."

Fox Mulder lay in the dark. The medication had settled his stomach
and was making him pleasantly drowsy. He didn't think he would dream again
that night, or at least he hoped not. Dana Scully was a skeptic and a nag.
He still wasn't certain that he liked her a whole lot. In fact, he was
reasonably sure that he still didn't. He really hadn't liked any but his
first partner, but this time, just this once, he had to admit to himself,
he had been glad he had had her and lucky she had been along. For some
reason, when she said the dreams would remain their secret, he believed her
although he couldn't have explained to anyone why.

Dana Scully lay awake and listened until her partner's breathing
became deep and regular. It had taken him awhile to fall asleep. Baby
sitting a 33 year old neurotic male who believed that alien's had landed
had certainly never been a part of her life's plans, none-the-less she felt
for him. The anguish of his cries as he had awakened from his nightmare
had moved her deeply. If he was crazy it was because he was a man driven
by pain...constant pain. Odds were that his sister was dead and buried,
but Dana in her own fashion did believe in miracles. Just before slipping
off to sleep, she found herself doing something she hadn't done in a long
long time, praying that God would let them find out what had happened to
his sister so that the poor man could have some peace and some closure in
his life. The significance of the fact that she was praying for them to
find Samantha and not him to find her never occurred to her in her twilight
state between sleep and wakefulness.

The End