Title: GAZING BACK Author: Tim Scott Email: tscott@fix.net Rating: R for bad language Category: S, A Spoilers: Takes place during fourth season Keywords: Payback Summary: Mulder "goes postal". Disclaimer: Fox Mulder, Dana Scully and Walter Skinner belong to Chris Carter, 1013 Productions and the Fox Network. I borrowed them without permission and promise to put them back pretty much the way I found them when I'm done. Most other character names were kindly loaned to me by my favorite fanfic writers. Who's Who appears at the end of the story. Many thanks, folks. Special thanks to Amperage & Livengoo, who graciously allowed me to refer to events and people that occur in their marvelous story OKLAHOMA. If you haven't read it yet I envy you. You're in for a real treat. No characters were injured during the production of this story. No money changed hands either, dammit. Constructive criticism, for my purposes, is suggestions and/or evaluations of the story which will help me write a better story next time out. Constructive criticism is welcome. Lavish praise is welcome too, of course. This story is dedicated to Patty Flack, who *would not* get off my back until I wrote it all down. I am properly grateful for the well-timed boot in the butt. **************************************************************** Mulder assured himself as he collected their luggage from the carousel. Just get in the damn cab, ride to the office, make a verbal report and get the hell out without further antagonizing your partner. The heat body-slammed him as he left the refrigerated air of the terminal in search of his partner. Mulder shook his head sadly. It was after 7:30pm and it had to be 90 degrees or better and something like 85% humidity. His shirt was soaked with sweat after five paces. There she was, holding a cab and trying not to wilt in the heat. The teal suit, his favorite, must be sticking to her skin by now. She hated the heat, he knew. It made her ankles swell. Didn't do much for her disposition, either. Dana Scully with a full clip of irritation was no one to trifle with. He sighed -- internally, just to be on the safe side -- and got in the cab. "J. Edgar Hoover building please, driver," Scully said. She began to lean back as the taxi pulled out, then asked, "Could you turn on the air conditioning, please?" The driver looked at her in the mirror. "Sorry, ma'am, it doesn't work." She nodded resignedly and sat back, carefully not looking at her companion. Mulder continued his silent musings. He knew he should say something to her, but what? He'd have to look her in the face, and every time he did that lately her expression made him want to scream 'INCOMING!' and jump in a ditch. He shifted uncomfortably. She turned to look at him and he froze. Satisfied, she faced front again. The strain between them was incredible. He used to be able to make her smile. He'd given himself points for her every smirk and raised eyebrow. The game had lightened many an endless hour of work -- tell a joke and watch Scully smother a grin. She'd even laughed out loud a few times, and wasn't that just gold and jewels? Now everything he said came out wrong, even when he honestly tried to be funny, and when he was annoyed... Well. As mom used to say, "If you can't say anything nice don't say anything at all." Keep your mouth shut, Mulder. Can't get in too much trouble that way... ***** ***** ***** Scully told herself as she and Mulder approached the metal detectors in the lobby. The building reeked of paperwork and betrayal, as usual, and they had the damn air conditioning set too high again. Too cold in the terminal, too hot in the cab, too cold again here -- with her lowered resistance it practically guaranteed a vicious cold in her near future. Perfect. Just perfect. Dana tried to shake off the morbid attitude. She ached to take her shoes off and soak for a week in a tub full of hot water and fragrant suds. Twenty paces to the elevators, a short ride upstairs, brief the AD on the disastrous case in California, promise to turn in a full report on Monday and get the hell out. Thirty minutes, tops, then two long lovely Mulderless days to recover. Just hang in there a little longer. She closed her eyes and leaned back against the wall of the elevator for a moment, then straightened up and blinked rapidly. Ooops. Not a good idea. Mustn't fall asleep in front of Mr. Insomnia over there. Not that she wanted to sleep, anyway. She'd had no sleep in two days, all she'd eaten was a danish at breakfast and fear of dreaming had kept her from sleeping on the plane. The endless, horrible cab ride in sweltering silence had pretty much finished her off. The elevator door dinged open and she strode firmly past the starvation and exhaustion. Mulder followed in silence. For the last eighteen hours her partner had only spoken to her in connection with the case. The scrupulously polite attitude he'd learned at Oxford (nobody does snotty like the Brits) and usually saved for posturing bureaucrats had been turned on her for the first time. For three days before that every word had been a razor. Now he was giving her the silent treatment, hadn't said a word the whole way in from the airport. She couldn't decide which was worst. At least the prick was carrying her bag. Thank God for small favors. Five minutes down, twenty-five to go. Just maintain an even stride until you get there and the rest will take care of itself. ***** ***** ***** Skinner promised himself. Too much bad coffee roiled in his gut, mixing with foodlike substances from the machines up the hall which were all he'd been able to snatch today between endless useless meetings with middle-management drones trying to justify their inflated salaries. Your government in action. He simulated attentiveness while Agent Kiley droned away, trying to mask a total lack of progress on his current assignment. God, if only Mulder were here. Insufferable or not, Mulder would have finished this case a week ago. No longer able to ignore hydraulic pressure, Skinner excused himself for a quick head call. He popped a Rolaids leaned his forehead against the cool tile to consider his options. If he wrapped up Kiley's report fast he might get to the gym before Agent Swenson went home. Four rounds with that behemoth whould work off quite a bit of pent-up frustration. There'd been no time to exercise properly this week and his muscles ached from disuse. Dammit, that wouldn't work either, he realized while washing his hands. Mulder and Scully were due back any minute. They had some serious explaining to do. He didn't like the reports he'd been getting from Jimmy Kingsley, the Anaheim ASAC. It didn't sound like them at all. Something was up with his best team and he wanted to get a handle on it, fast. ***** ***** ***** Kimberly's eyes widened as they turned the corner. She hope she'd gotten her Secretary's Smile back in place fast enough. Mulder gave Skinner's assistant a weary grin. "Don't you ever go home?" Even a tired smile from Mulder was worth waiting up for. God, how did Scully ever get any work done? "Agent Mulder, Agent Scully. Sorry to drag you in like this but the Assistant Director needs to speak with you before you go home." "Well, let's get it over with. How much trouble am I in this time, Ms Cook?" "You'll have to speak with him about that. He's down in Conference Room Six. Why don't you leave the bags here? I'll keep an eye on them for you." "You're an angel." Mulder glanced at Scully. "Ready?" She nodded, looking unutterably beat. Mulder opened his mouth, thought better of it and led off. ***** ***** ***** The lights were lower in the hallways at this time of night, energy conservation or something. Whatever the reason, it was easier on the eyes this way. They stopped outside Room Six and checked out the occupants through the glass pane in the door. Kiley, Lyon, Montoya and Rabey but no Skinner. The men in the brightly lit room couldn't see them in the dim hallway. Scully raised her eyebrows, Mulder shrugged and opened the door for her. She stopped short just inside and he almost ran her down but danced aside at the last minute. The scathing remark died in his throat. Crime scene photos were scattered across tables and taped to walls. All eyes had turned to them. Scully was somewhere else, zoning out, so Mulder spoke up. Give them their usual target and maybe they wouldn't notice her. She had it tough enough with the biggest Old Boys Club in the world. No need to give them any more ammunition. He moved to the side to pull their eyes to him and away from her. "Um, Skinner wanted to see us..." Lyon waved a hand at the other door. "Just stepped out, be right back. How was Anaheim?" "Hotter than here, if you can believe it. The smog levels were sky-high, too. Nearly coughed up a lung after the first mile. Gave it up." The door opened behind them and Andy Martin brushed past Scully. She stiffened and Mulder's eyes narrowed. This really had to stop... Martin snickered. "Heard you bagged the Kiddie Killer, Iceberg. About fucking time." ***** ***** ***** Skinner finished signing the papers and handed them back to the woman from Accounting. She thanked him and went away. He checked his watch and stopped by his office, where Kimberly told him she'd sent Mulder and Scully to his last known location. He shook his head in mild frustration and Ms Cook gave him a small sympathetic look. "Go home and feed your cat, Kimberly. See you Monday." "Thank you, sir. Good night." ***** ***** ***** Scully's eyes snapped into focus. Wherever she'd been, she was back now. Exhaustion vanished. Edges were suddenly too sharp and colors too bright. She got exactly one step forward before the headache exploded between her eyes. The nosebleed would be next, she knew. and she was damned if these people were going to get a free show. She spun on her heel and fought for control. End Part One of Four. See Part One for disclaimers. Part Two of Four Begins here. ***** ***** ***** Mulder was already moving. He'd read the tension in her back or something and just knew. He slipped a handkerchief into her hand as he crossed in front of her. The damn things seemed to grow out of his fist these days. Just beyond her he planted himself with fists on his hips, which spread out his trech coat and screened her nicely. She got the hanky in place before the flood began and concentrated on slowing her heart rate. Mulder would keep them occupied until she was ready to face them again. In crisis they still became one. It made her feel marginally better. In this, if nothing else, Mulder was as dependable as the sunrise. Mulder could feel her pressing slightly against his back, telling him she was okay. Well, okay enough for now. He knew if he asked she'd say, "I'm fine, Mulder", just as she had for months. Even though they both knew goddamn good and well she was anything but fine. They were going to have to have a serious talk about that real soon. Enough of that. Deal with one disaster at a time. When he was sure his voice would be calm and level he said, over his shoulder, "Agent Scully, would you please find Skinner and make our report?" He felt he begin to stiffen against his back, then force herself to relax. Under different circumstances he'd be tempted to smile. Skinner joked about how they communicated by glance and facial expression. The "eye-alog", he called it. Mulder could hear her mentally playing both sides of the conversation they'd be having if no one were listening. She finally nodded and walked back out the door. In the slight pause the other agents had begun to react, each according to his nature. Montoya said nothing, as usual. He'd watch the situation develop before deciding what to do. Martin was just beginning to realize just how deeply he'd stepped in it. Lyon and Rabey were readying their own half-witted remarks, the shitheads. Only Kiley had the grace to look embarrassed. All very sensible and proper and career conscious. I should be proud of me. Just like a real grown-up... ... And years of suppressed anger would no longer be denied. Mulder turned and locked the door behind Scully, then told the switchboard to take Conference Room Six off the net. Finally, in a voice like wind off the ice caps, Mulder addressed his colleagues. ***** ***** ***** Dana Scully leaned into a corner of the hallway just outside the door and tried with all her might not to cry. She failed. Silent sobs shook her small frame. She'd heard the lock snick shut behind her and knew pretty much what would happen next. She gave silent thanks for reduced light levels and hoped no one would notice her before she regained control. "Agent Scully. Are you all right?" She turned to face Skinner and her nose erupted again before she could speak. Her boss offered his own hanky, Mulder's being rather soaked by this time. "Thank you, sir." He peered at her in the dim light. "You didn't answer my question, Agent Scully. Are you all right?" She briefly considered giving him the standard answer. This man would never buy it, she knew. Finally she shook her head. "I don't think so, no, sir." Skinner thought. Aloud, he said, "I'm sorry to have called you in, Agent Scully. You and Mulder can go home. Have your report on my desk by day's end Monday. Where *is* your partner?" And why the hell isn't he making you go home and rest? his tone wondered. She considered lying but couldn't muster the energy. She was a rotten liar, anyway. Let the consequences take care of themselves for a change. The truth or a lie would each cost her something, she was sure. She gestured behind her. "He's in there, sir." Skinner's eyebrow went up. The small agents tone spoke volumes. He shook his head. Worry about that later. "What might he be doing in there, Agent Scully?" She sighed. "Dynamiting the remains of his career would be my first guess, sir." ***** ***** ***** "I'm the best profiler in the business, according to the folks who keep track of such things. I can get inside the minds of serial killers, satanic cult members and every other twisted psycopath around but I can not figure you people out for the life of me. I realize that geniuses generally won't work for government pay but you're supposed to be some of the best minds we have. How in the name of Bleeding Jesus can you be this fucking stupid?" ***** ***** ***** Scully laid a hand on Skinner's arm when he reached for the doorknob. "We'll have to use the one at the other end of the room, sir. Mulder locked me out." "Did he." The complete lack of expression in the ADs voice chilled her. ***** ***** ***** The assembled agents looked at each other to see who would reply first. Nobody seemed too anxious to start the ball rolling. This was a new Mulder they were seeing. They were used to him walking past them, trying to keep his face still as the deliberately just-audible taunts flew by, with an occasional in-your-face insult for good measure. This was... not right, somehow. Something about Mulder's eyes -- they *glittered*. Rabey got it first. He'd seent this same look on a suicide bomber just before the crazy bastard blew himself and fifty citizens into a better world. The very same don't-give-a- shit, fuck-you-very-much attitude. The smile died on his face and all wiseass remarks died with it. He might not be as good as Spooky but he knew the danger that all profilers face: identification with the target. You had to be able to think like the UNSUB if you were going to find him but it was a tightrope act that would intimidate Wallenda. Too far into a mind like that and you might not come out again, but not far enough in was useless. Nobody talked about it, ever, except with the Bureau shrinks that nobody would admit to seeing, either, but they all knew the same great fear: what if I get stuck in there? Mulder wasn't looking too sane just now. And he was fresh from a case that nobody wanted to talk about. There was *no* available gossip on this one. Very strange. Rabey shivered and tried to catch Lyon's eyes. Better get some backup here. ***** ***** ***** "Wait." Skinner glanced at the petite redhead inquiringly. Scully gave it her best shot. Mulder had given her cover fire so it was up to her to return the favor. Trouble was, she hadn't come up with much during the short walk to this door. Hmmmm. The truth seemed to be working so far. If it ain't broke, don't fix it... "Sir, Agent Mulder is responding to long-standing provocation. This has been coming for some time. It might be best to just let it happen." Skinner shook his head. "Agent Scully, I'm not about to stand here and watch my people scuffle like a bunch of fifth graders at recess because of some name-calling." The analogy was just too apt. Only long experience with her partner's sense of humor kept the grin off her face. The exhaustion helped, of course. She tried another tack. "Sir, my father told me that one of an officer's most important jobs is knowing what to see and what not to see." Skinner dropped his hand while he considered this. Sergeant Warner sprang to mind, the man who'd taught him most of what he knew about handling troops under stress during that horrible second tour of duty in 'Nam. The sarge had been conveniently unavailable during a few memorable brawls that had done the unit a world of good. Suddenly Scully wobbled. Skinner grabbed her arm to steady her and looked concerned. She had the oddest look on her face. Dana's focus went inward. This was the damndest feeling, like she'd turned a corner without moving. It took her a moment to identify it. She wasn't tired any more. How was that possible? A sensation of euphoria began creeping in. Her senses were becoming more acute and her mind was starting to race. Skinner was watching her closely. "How do you feel, Agent Scully?" "Well, I was pretty tired, sire, but I seem to have gotten my second wind." Third or fourth was more like it... She could almost swear she could identify the ADs after-shave. Those big hands had a strong grip on her elbow, too. Very distracting. "You had me worried for a second, there. You got that same manic look Agent Mulder gets when he's about to aggravate my ulcer." Now there was a thought. Mulder slept less than seemed humanly possible. Could this be the result? It would certainly explain a lot of things about the man... "I'm fine, sir." Yeah, he'd heard that one before. He made up his mind. Mulder seemed determined to dig his own grave in there. Fine, but something was different about Scully tonight. This would be a good chance to observe her covertly and maybe learn more about this enigmatic woman. "All right, Agent Scully, we'll play this your way. For now." They both turned to listen at the door. ***** ***** ***** End Part Two of Four Disclaimers in Part One. Part Three Begins Here ***** ***** ***** "For the past three years Agent Scully and I have consistently posted the third-highest solve rate in the Bureau -- 81% the last time I checked. This is in spite of the fact that most of our work involves cases that other agents, like you boneheads, gave up on. When we're not doing that we get stuck with the hot potatoes, the career-wreckers and high-profile nightmares. We have a 93% solve rate on *those* puppies, which means we lead the league. "In a sane workplace we would be showered with accolades, pay raises, an office with a terrific view and a sexy secretary. But this is the Bureau, so you keep your top profiler hidden in the basement like a junkyard dog and only bring me out when you absolutely have to. In between times, when you don't desperately need me to catch the latest boogeyman, you throw rocks at me and poke me with sticks. "There is exactly one agent in the entire Bureau who can handle this particular irreplaceable asset, who can keep him on the leash and away from your throats. This agent also happens to be one of the smartest, toughest and bravest we have. Now, the sensible thing to do in a situation like that would be to treat her with respect so that, when the time comes, there will be favors for you to call in. Do you do that? You don't? "Hmm. Well, then, you at least show her the commmon, everyday courtesy you'd give to anyone you met on the street, right? No? What do you do, then? Pardon? You humiliate her every chance you get, you say? Well, that would be one way to go, I suppose." Mulder paused, then leaned in with a feral smile. "It never occurred to you that she might let go of the leash, did it?" ***** ***** ***** Scully fought down a smirk of her own. Suddenly she was thirteen again and desperately wanted a telescope but her folks couldn't afford it. She'd worked every odd job she could find for three months. One of them was walking Commander Hansen's big, goofy Great Dane. She shook her head. Something in this memory was important or she wouldn't be having it right now. She'd tried so hard to rein him in but Admiral Nelson needed to run after being cooped up in that small yard all day. It was an uneven contest and her hands hurt so much... She tried not to think about how Nelson had looked at her after the truck hit him. Hopefully Mulder would be in better shape when this was over. This strange mental state was fouling up her thought processes but suddenly something about Mulder's phrasing clicked. "He knows." Skinner glanced at her. "Who knows what?" "Mulder knows we're out here. Well, he knows I'm here, anyway. He's apologizing to me right in front of those clods and they don't even know it." Oh, she was in Mulderland, all right. No guard on her tongue at all. She had Skinner's full attention now. "That's not possible. We've been whispering so he couldn't hear us and there's no way he could see us." "Trust me, sir. He knows." Skinner seemed to dismiss this and returned his attention to the fiasco in the next room. ***** ***** ***** "Have any of you heard of Orde Wingate?" They gazed blankly at each other. Lyon looked like he'd just swallowed a bad oyster. Mulder shook his head sadly. "Nobody reads anymore. Come on, Lyon, you're the amateur historian around here. Tell 'em about it." Lyon was getting nervous now. The temperature in the room seemed to be dropping fast. Mulder stood there with that damn manic look on his face and waited for a response. He licked his lips and gave in to the inevitable. "Wingate was a British army captain, Lawrence of Arabia's cousin. Just as Lawrence helped the Arabs, Wingate helped the Jews. Back when Israel was being born, late thirties or so, Arab raiding parties would come over the borders and strike defenseless Jewish settlements. Wingate created the doctrine that the Israeli Night Raiders used. Basically, the Israelis would backtrack all such Arab strike forces and destroy any village that allowed itself to be used as a staging area. Pretty soon the borders quieted down. It became one of the guiding principles of Israeli military doctrine: you hurt us and we'll hurt you back, hard and fast." ***** ***** ***** "When did Agent Mulder become an authority on military history?" Scully reddened. "I'm afraid that one is my fault, sir." Skinner sighed, pinched the skin over the bridge of his nose, and waited for the explanation. His expression said he knew he wouldn't like it, whatever it was, but his eyes stayed glued to the scene in the next room. "Um. Well, we were on stakeout a few months back and got into a discussion about Israel. It's a way to pass the time, pick a topic and argue one side or the other. Anyway, I told him about Wingate and some other stuff I picked up listening to my dad and his officer buddies when I was a kid. It fascinated Mulder, he started reading everything he could find on the subject -- small unit tactics, SEAL team doctrine, that sort of thing. I'd hoped it was a passing fancy, but..." Skinner shook his head. "Wonderful." The petite agent winced. Although Mulder had not yet told her where his recent researches were taking him she had a pretty good idea. Her partner was fast reaching the point where he'd give up on working within the system. Scully was terrified that he was planning to go completely off the reservation. When that happened she would be faced with some unpleasant choices herself. If he didn't just ditch her again and make the decision for her. <*Damn* the man!!> ***** ***** ***** Mulder's smile was thin and bitter. "Very good, Agent Lyon. Gold star." He turned to the others. "I trust you all get the point? Hmmmm. Maybe not." He considered his audience. "Let's make sure, shall we?" Mulder faced the nearest man. His voice went toneless, his eyes distant and cold. "Kiley, Terence C. Male caucasian, 41 years old, brown hair and brown eyes, 5' 8", 190 lbs. I know you've all wondered what Kiley is doing here. Skinner runs a tight shop and Kiley couldn't find his own ass with a six man search party. Congressperson Gritton, of the oversight committee, rammed him down Skinner's throat. "Remember that little flap about six months ago over my expense reports? Skinner backed me up, bless him, and Upstairs tried to hamstring him for it. That was Gritton's power play and Kiley ran the op from start to finish." Mulder shook his head. "You telegraph your punches, Kiley. Saw you coming a mile away. Bad enough that you tried to play me, but that I wasn't even the primary target? That hurt, Terry." Mulder shook his head in mock sorrow. The others were staring at Kiley now, who couldn't look anyone in the face. "I explained the situation to some interested parties. The investigation went away. Then I did a little research on Kiley, Terence C. and made my findings available to some other people. Turns out inquiring minds really do want to know. Made very interesting reading, it did." The sorrowful expression was gone. Mulder's face now looked like an old ivory carving. "The good news is that political problems often have political solutions. Kiley will be the sacrificial lamb when CNN breaks the Phillip Bland scandal in a few hours. Influence peddling, very sad. I'm shocked, *shocked*, that such a thing could happen in Our Nation's Capital. Tough break, Kiley. We'll miss you." ***** ***** ***** Skinner was gaping now. "How the hell does he do that?" Scully shook her head in silent admiration. "He's Mulder, sir. And he doesn't sleep." "Excuse me?" "Mulder has chronic insomnia, almost never sleeps, and his mind never shuts off. Ever. He can only stare at the tv for so long before he gets bored and has to go do something." Skinner looked suspicious. "Why do I think I don't want to hear this?" She chuckled openly now. "Mulder kind of moonlights as a problem solver for DCs high and mighty. How do you think he gets away with driving like that? The commander of the DCPD Traffic Division owes him a favor. Lieutenant Garza had an embarrassing family problem and Mulder helped him out with it." She shook her head. "Serves me right for telling him to be more polite to Local Law Enforcement. Anyway, the street cops know his license number now and don't even bother to stop him anymore. The tickets somehow disappear before the system sees them." She noticed the disapproving look. "Nothing like that, sir. He makes sure there's no conflict of interest before he does anything. Quite a few senators, congresspersons and lobbyists owe him big-time. This is DC, sir. Favors are as good as gold around here. Everybody owes favors to somebody. A lot of them owe Mulder. I'm not supposed to know about any of this, by the way." Skinner smirked. "Your secret's safe with me, Scully." ***** ***** ***** Kiley got to his feet unsteadily. "She wouldn't..." Mulder laughed. It was not a pleasant sound. "You didn't actually take a politician's word at face value, did you, Kiley? How stupid is that?" Kiley made it to the door, fumbled the lock open and left. Lyon jumped to his feet. "How the hell could you do that, Mulder? You just destroyed the man's career!" Mulder looked disgusted. "Grow up, Lyon. This is the big leagues. We wear spikes here. If you don't like it, go back to the farm clubs where you belong." Montoya decided it was time somebody slowed things down. He'd hoped Skinner would have returned by now but something was obviously keeping him. Time to pour a little oil on the water. "Agent Mulder." Mulder faced him and waited, balanced, ready. "Montoya." He tried not to show it but Mulder was scaring the shit out of him. He'd always thought Averman laid it on a bit too thick with the Spooky stories. Apparently not. Jack Averman had taken him drinking a year ago to celebrate his transfer to DC. The Dallas SAC had been his mentor and wanted to get in some last minute advice. Montoya's mind raced to pull up something from that conversation that might help. He grinned a little and said, "Averman was right about you." Mulder came down off his toes and relaxed a touch. "How is the old bastard? Still doing the Raging Redneck bit?" Montoya's grin got bigger. "Oh, yeah. Ain't it great? Say, the Old Man never would tell me -- what really happened on the Gragg case? I got the impression you caught the Baby Killer damn near singlehanded!" Mulder went pale. Montoya thought frantically. ***** ***** ***** Skinner breathed, "Oh, fuck." Scully's attention sharpened. The Mean Marine never swore. Ever. "Mulder won't talk about that case. I can't get into the file, either, I can't access that level. What happened?" The ADs face resumed its usual granite facade. "I'm sorry, Agent Scully, but you have no need to know." "Bullshit. Sir." It was curiously satisfying, though. Well, satisfying or not, it wasn't getting her anywhere. "Excuse me, sire, but if my partner is a grenade with the pin removed I think I need to know." He faced her calmly. "Agent Scully, your partner *is* a grenade with the pin removed and you should have figured that out by now. Everyone else has. SAC Averman was right. It's nobody's business but Mulder's." Hmmmmmm. Maybe the Gunmen could help... ***** ***** ***** Mel Rabey sneered and opened his mouth. He was getting his nerve back, and besided, he knew some of that story and it was choice. Before he could speak Mulder froze him with a glance and spoke quietly: "Wer mit Ungeheuern kampft, mag zusehn, dass er nicht dabei zum Ungeheuer wird. Und wenn du lange in einen Abgrund blickst, blickt der Abgrund auch in dich hinein." Rabey's jaw dropped. After a short pause Mulder continued in a flat monotone. "Rabey, Melvin T. Male caucasian, 36 years old, brown/green, 5' 11", 195 lbs. Subject displays symptoms of verbal and physical abuse as a child. Over the past eighteen months subject has lost control of his temper and injured suspects four times. Subject also shows signs of incipient alcoholism. Better do something about it soon, Rabey." Mel's eyes widened for a moment, then he paled and decided, no sir, he didn't think he'd antagonize this man right now, thanks just the same. What he did want, and very badly, too, was a double bourbon straight up. He didn't resume normal breathing until Mulder's attention moved back to Montoya. ***** ***** ***** Scully frowned as she translated the quote. It had that ring to it, even in another language. When she got it she looked at Skinner, who nodded back. Well, a man who'd survived Viet Nam was likely to be familiar with this topic. The rest of them didn't have a clue. Except for Rabey, who seemed to need a toilet badly. Wait, Montoya got it, too. ***** ***** ***** The Texan nodded to Mulder and translated for the rest of them: "He who fights with monsters should take care lest he thereby become a monster. For if you gaze long enough into the abyss, the abyss gazes also into you." Montoya felt sick. This was getting worse, not better. What else had Averman said that might help? Spooky seemed to like the old gringo, get the conversation back there. "Averman says he owes you big time. What's up with that?" Whatever Spooky was seeing now, it wasn't Montoya. This would be the perfect time to jump him, except that he hadn't done anything to warrant it. Nothing that would stand up in court, anyway. What could they say? Oh, yeah, that would go over real big. Shit. Mulder finally said, "It's complicated." He focused on the younger man again. "You don't like me. How come you don't treat Scully and me like they do?" Montoya looked down. "I like Agent Scully just fine. We trade favors from time to time." He met the other man's eyes. "I don't dislike you, but you make me nervous. Anyway, that's not in the job description. I don't have to like you, I just have to work with you. You're a shit most of the time, Mulder, but you find bad guys. That's the job. That's what we get paid for." Agent Mulder considered this. "Fair enough." End Part Three of Four Disclaimers in Part One. Part Four of Four Begins Here ***** ***** ***** Mulder went back to abusing his colleagues. "You people are supposed to be trained investigators. You get paid to observe, remember and make connections. Let's review a few salient facts and see if you can make the necessary deductions. Can you say 'deduction', Martin? Suuure you can! It's onlly three syllables. Work with me here, Martin." Martin looked pissed but not about to interrupt. "I am Spooky Mulder, the hotshot psychologist with the eidetic memory. That means 'photographic', Martin. My IQ is higher than most of you can count. I haven't taken a vacation in over six years unless ordered to do so. That means I'm obsessive about my work. I got my nickname because I don't need much data to be able to think like UNSUBs, to get inside their heads. As an FBI agent I can access damn near any bit of information I want about anybody, one way or another." Mulder paused for effect. "Do you really want me pissed off at you?" Silence. "Every time I walk through this office you people stop what you're doing and make your little wise-ass remarks just loud enough for me to hear. And very biting remarks they are, too. *Much* nastier than the average third-grader could come up with. While I nurse my mortally wounded ego the drop in noise level lets me listen to your conversations as I pass by." He dropped his voice confidentially. "I'm a shameless eavesdropper, you know. Not only that, but you guys are remarkable careless with your passwords. Don't you read the memos about computer security? And if all that isn't enough, don't you realize that, every time one of you insult me, the form the insult takes tells me what you're afraid of yourself?" More silence, deeper silence. They were starting to get it. They'd all watched "Silence of the Lambs". They all remembered laughing at Hannibal Lecter and the idea that one man could destroy others' lives armed with nothing but his voice and a knowledge of his listeners' minds. It didn't seem so funny any more. "I've heard all the stories and insults. 'Spooky can't hold on to his gun.' 'A high school kid could whip Mulder's ass.' All regrettable true. I can't outshoot or outfight any of you." Mulder donated them all a truly evil smile. "I don't have to. That plays to your strengths and my weaknesses. No, the other way is better: my strengths to your weaknesses. I have a Profile for each and every one of you. So. You people are going to start treating Agent Scully and me with respect. You are going to play nice from now on. You will do this because, if you don't, your lives will NOT BE WORTH LIVING!!!" And, just like that, he was calm again. ***** ***** ***** Skinner reached for the doorknob. Mulder looked dead into his eyes and glared. The look on Mulder's face was very familiar, though. It took him a minute to realize he'd worn it himself, once upon a time. Without warning Skinner was back at Cui Nol. Under blistering enemy fire from an elevated position, the lieutenant had just given the latest in a long line of stupid orders, the kind that had put them here in the first place. Corporal Skinner finally refused. The officer shrieked threats of courts- martial over the bedlam of warfare. Fear sweat flowed over heat sweat as Skinner bellowed back, "What are you gonna do to me, Lieutenant? Make me a marine and send me to Vietnam?" Just thinking about it made his palms itch for his rifle. He could almost smell the jungle again, even after all this time... Skinner straightened and dropped his hand to his side. Mulder nodded and returned his attention to his co-workers. ***** ***** ***** "Remember Josh Hadden, transferred to Chicago last year? He liked to mess with Scully, too. Dominance games, intimidation, that kind of adolescent crap. Scully warned him to knock it off. Twice. Very polite, Scully is. When he wouldn't let up she analyzed the situation and made her plans. "Hadden's particular conceit was his marksmanship. No FBI stance for him, no sir. Thought he was the Sundance Kid, shooting from the hip and all that. Scully was already a better than average shot but she got Agent Rocherolle from HRT to work with her. Kelli is the best shooter they have and as soon as she heard the story she was happy to help. Scully spent all her spare time for three weeks at an outside pistol range getting ready, then she 'happened' to be on the range downstairs when Hadden came in for his weekly session." Mulder got a nasty smile. "Josh and the gang went over to her and threw a few short jokes her way before Hadden took the lane next to hers. She didn't say a word. He sent a target out to his usual distance and began his little pre- shooting ritual. Scully's piece was on the counter in front of her. "Hadden began his draw. Before he cleared the holster she had her Sig up and was blazing away one-handed at his target. He froze and watched her, didn't get a single shot off. She unloaded two full clips so fast it sounded like rock-and-roll. Nobody said a word. She reached around and triggered the return on his target before putting her gear back in her bag. When the target came in both eyes, the heart and the groin were basically missing. Hadden opened his mouth but nothing came out. He just stood there. She still hadn't said a word, just picked up her bag and left. Guess she figured she'd made her point. Apparently she over-estimated you. Didn't she?" ***** ***** ***** Skinner looked over at Scully. "I heard about that." She shrugged. "Everybody heard about it, that was the point." They turned back to the door and she mumbled, "For all the good it did me." ***** ***** ***** Mulder's eyes went to slits. "I saved the best for last. The man who started this whole mess tonight. Martin, Andrew A. Male caucasian, 32 years old, blonde/blue, 5' 6", 165 lbs. Definite 'short guy syndrome'. Subject has had twelve sexual harassment claims filed against him in the past three years, all of which were dropped due to his unofficial harassment. I did a little checking. My notes are all wrapped up and just waiting for OPC to ask me." The tall agent leaned in and snarled quietly. "You picked the wrong woman to start brushing up against this time, Martin. It could be coincidence that Agent Scully started training with that aikijutsu instructor over in Maryland one week after you joined VCU but I doubt it. And she's a doctor, too, you stupid shit. I foresee serious agony in your immediate future and there won't be a mark on you to back up your story, assuming you've got the guts to admit a tiny little woman kicked your ass up around your shoulders." Mulder's eyes gleamed to match his vicious grin. "I can hardly wait." ***** ***** ***** Enough was enough. Skinner opened the door and ushered Scully in ahead of him. His two rogue agents traded glances for a moment before Scully went to stand next to Mulder. Well. That was clear enough. Mulder waited patiently. He knew what he'd done, what was coming, and was ready to pay the price. The agents around the table sat back in satisfaction, anticipating fireworks. The Assistant Director remembered Rule One: never do what they expect you to do. "Agent Mulder, I'd like your report on the Anaheim investigation." The seated agents looked puzzled. No explosion? Mulder looked interested. "Sir. The whole investigation was like an X-file, like Murphy's Law come alive. You name it and it went wrong. Inter-agency squabbling, leaks to the media, mis-routed memos, communications screwups... I've never seen anything like it. From day one when that incompetent excuse for a butcher they call an ME missed not one, not two, but *five* major clues those poor bastards couldn't catch a break." Mulder shot Scully an odd glance before continuing. Her expression didn't change so he went on with his report. Skinner made a mental note to follow up on that later. "We caught Charles Christian Decker at 10:33am day before yesterday. He'd just finished gutting his latest victim, an eight-year-old boy that he'd picked up from the parking lot at Disneyland. Decker was wearing a butcher's apron and was covered in blood up to his elbows." Mulder looked mournfully at his shoes for a moment, sighed, and continued. "Agent Scully was first through the door. Decker tried to stab her and she was forced to shoot. He was pronounced dead at the scene. We finished up there and came home." Mulder leveled a poisonous glare at Martin, who flinched. Skinner watched Mulder carefully. Obviously there was more to the story. Just as obviously, he wasn't going to get it from Mulder. The agents around the table waited. Skinner sighed and rubbed his eyes. "Agent Mulder, you are suspended for eight weeks without pay for this display. Congratulations on your new high score." Mulder nodded silently before closing the distance between them. He handed over his pistol and badge, shared another muted glance with his partner and strode out of the room. Scully faced the Assistant Director. "Sir, I feel that I should share in my partners punishement as I am partly to blame for this incident. I could have stopped him but I didn't." He'd wondered about that. This should be interesting. "How do you figure that, Agent Scully? You are obviously under stress from the shooting incident in Anaheim. Are you trying to force me to punish you for saving your own life? Is this survivor guilt talking?" She took a deep breath and straightened. "More stress than you know, sir. As it happens, my brother and his family including my nine-year-old nephew, were visiting the park that day. It was Dougie's first time on the Matterhorn. The dead child wasn't a double for my nephew but the resemblance was close enough." Scully's eyes went vague. Her audience wanted to look away but couldn't. They'd all been where she was now, reliving something horrible... Dana could smell the copper in the air. Sensory overload was threatening her again. She could hear Mulder's voice trailing off (Federal Agents, freeze...) as Decker looked up from his terrible work. She badly wanted to scream at this vile thing who was destroying something, some*one* irreplaceable, a child like the ones she would never be able to bear. She could hear her own teeth grinding together with the effor to be a Professional Law Enforcement Officer. It was the expression that did it. Decker had this silly "Ooops, I'm in trouble now," look on his face. Like a ten year old boy might get for breaking the window with a ball. It was just too much. And she knew, she just *knew*, that he'd beat it in court... "Agent Mulder's report was incomplete, sir. Mulder, six policement and three sheriffs watched me empty a full clip into Decker from across the room. Every one of them gave depositions saying Decker attacked me with the knife, that I was fully justified." They all sat up straight for that one. Skinner's jaw dropped. Scully losing control? Dana Scully, the Ice Queen? Mr. Spock's daughter lost her temper? Then the sense of what she'd just said began to penetrate. They all remembered what she'd looked like earlier, what she was starting to look like again as the adrenalin rush went away. They all knew about nightmares and they could read the lack of sleep in her eyes. Her very dry eyes. Even now, Scully wasn't giving up a thing. Not a damn thing, not to them. And that was what finally made them ashamed. Every one of them glared at Martin, who looked uncomfortable and stood to apologize. She just glared at him. "Save it for someone who gives a shit, Martin. Since Mulder blew my original plan, and probably saved me from an assault charge, I now officially notify Assistant Director Skinner that I intend to prefer sexual harassment charges against you." Danny Martin looked stunned. From the grimly pleased look on the ADs face he could see his career going down the toilet. Martin slumped back into his chair. Scully closed her eyes and battled for control. Muscles rippled beside her jaw. The men all looked at each other and looked away again. There didn't seem to be anything suitable to say. Skinner looked down, shook his head in sympathy, and thought of Mulder. He could see it now. Scully would want to put it all behind her, deny the whole thing no matter what the Bureau counselors said. She'd done it before, it was in her file. Mulder, on the other hand, would want her to face it and deal with it. As usual, with the best of intentions, Mulder was going to step on his dick again. Life in the basement was going to be unpleasant for some time to come. Scully faced her boss. "Not enough? Fine. So, Agent Lyon, Robert B. You were rather careless in Savannah last year. Unprotected sex. And with a suspect, too. Tsk. I'm surprised at you. Those tests still coming back negative? And have you told your wife, yet?" Lyon gaped at her, then at all the faces staring at him. Skinner sighed. "Very well, Agent Scully. Since you insist. You are suspended for two weeks without pay. Happy now?" "Not particularly, sir, but it will have to do." She looked thoughtful for a moment, then faced the table. "Mulder quoted Nietsche at you awhile back. I have one for you, too: 'That which does not destroy me makes me stronger.'" She looked each of them in the eyes for a moment. "My partner was able to demolish all of you because you keep secrets. You've all 'given hostages to fortune'. You can't use those tactics on him because he has no secrets. Mulder is exactly what he appears to be. Each time you take a shot at him you hurt him, but he heals. And he gets a little stronger every time. "You made yourselves weaker, and you made him stronger, and then you gave him a reason to attack you. And now the only one he'll let stand behind him with a loaded weopon is me." She shook her head in disgust. "Nice work, gentlemen." After laying her own badge and pistol in front of her boss she nodded to him, turned, and followed her partner out of the room. No one said anything for a long time. THE END DRAMATIS PERSONAE Philip Bland ...................... Fiona Bland Charles Christian Decker .......... C. C. Decker Congressperson Gritton ............ Carol Gritton Josh Hadden ....................... Jessica Hadden Terence Kiley ..................... Sarah Kiley Jimmy Kingsley .................... Gemma Kingsley Robert Lyon ....................... Jennifer Lyon Andy Martin ....................... Sheryl Martin Rosario Luis Montoya .............. R. L. Montoya Melvin Rabey ...................... Melissa Rabey Kelli Rocherolle .................. Kelli Rocherolle Sgt. Warner ....................... Dean Warner