From jhumby@ctv.es Tue Oct 29 13:35:52 1996
NEW: The Insurance Policy - 1/11 - by Joann Humby

Legally:
The interesting characters in this story belong to Chris Carter, 
1013 and Fox as brought to life by DD, GA and the X-Files writers. 
I've borrowed them for fun not profit.

This posting to the mailing list:
I'm using a new account, new software, new ISP etc etc, well 
you get the picture. So I'm posting only a couple of parts 
tonight. If it makes it out ok and the format's readable I'll 
send another batch tomorrow night.

This story:
I'm happy for the story to be circulated uncommercially (including
to ATXC and the archives), intact and with my name still attached.

Title - The Insurance Policy
Rating - PG
Classification  - XA

Summary:
Mulder  wakes up with no recollection of the last six weeks.

Joann  (jhumby@iee.org)

----------

Introduction

Up until now my X-Files have all come from the 'paranormal' wing of 
the X-Files. This one's my first attempt at a 'conspiracy' story. 
Absent are all the usual conspiracy episode characters (no CSM, no 
X, no ? and no Samantha) but there are definitely some shady types 
hanging around.

The story is set in '97.  No fourth season spoilers (it was written 
before the season began in the US). But it does assume some things 
about the fourth season, in particular that FM, DS and Skinner all 
survive in basically their present jobs.

Thanks to Sarah for her UKism translating and editing. The 
remaining errors are as usual, all mine.

Joann

PS: To anyone who has tried and failed to reach me in the last few 
weeks. I've moved house and country and ISP and well, you get the 
picture. So if I've ignored you - I'm sorry.

jhumby@iee.org (should be working)
jhumby@ctv.es (is definitely working - today)

=======================

THE INSURANCE POLICY - PART 1

MARCH '97 - WASHINGTON DC

Assistant Director Walter Skinner thanked Dana Scully for her 
attendance at the meeting then politely dismissed her. Mulder leant 
back in the chair to wait for whatever was coming. Skinner handed 
Mulder a slip of paper, he nodded and handed the paper back.

Skinner spoke rapidly. "There's no point in me trying to dress this 
up. The CIA have requested your help on a high priority case. They 
think it could take months to crack. The Director has already 
agreed."

Mulder wasn't sure what he had expected, but it wasn't this. "Why 
me and why should I do it?"

"I can give you three reasons. The Director has already agreed. My 
job and therefore your job are on the line over it. And." He paused 
for a minute to try and read the neutral expression he was getting 
back from his Agent. "And they suggested that this might be a good 
way of making new friends and improving your insurance policy."

"Friends and insurance, now why does that sound like a threat?"  
Mulder smiled solemnly. "So is this solo or is Scully part of the 
deal?"

"Just you, they need you to go undercover and they've only got 
cover for one."

"And they want to partner me with someone who'll keep an eye on 
what I'm up to. So what will Agent Scully be doing?"

Skinner shifted uncomfortably. "This job could take months. Agent 
Scully has been in line for promotion for a considerable time. I 
don't know how long into the future you normally plan but it 
wouldn't be right to keep her in limbo like that. There's a short 
term supervisory job coming up, covering maternity leave, running 
the forensics team at the Florida Head Quarters. It will leave her 
well placed for whatever move she wants to make next."

Mulder looked over to where he'd last seen his partner. "She'll be 
good at it. Is that all Sir?"

"You'll do it?"

"If it's a real case not just some set up. How can I turn down the 
chance to make new friends?"

They kept the rest of the briefing short and Mulder headed for 
home. < I don't know how long into the future you normally plan >. 
Nice phrasing he mused. He thought of the note Skinner had handed 
him, "save any questions, we'll talk later."

A week later he was packing his luggage, saying goodbye to Dana 
Scully and congratulating her on her promotion.

--------------------------


AUGUST - MIAMI

He opened his eyes and tried to focus on the trash cans and packing 
crates that lined the street. Sniffed the air and realised that the 
off smell that was coming back was some combination of himself and 
the garbage. He had no idea why he was here, or where here was. But 
he could tell that he'd been sleeping here last night. And before 
that?

Standing up took a lot more effort than seemed reasonable. By the 
time he finally got to the street corner he was exhausted. He 
surveyed the road, his head hurt, his body was unresponsive. He 
checked his pockets, no money, no credit cards, no ID, nothing. The 
state he was in, no way was a taxi driver going to pick him up. 
Even if one was foolish enough to stop, he doubted that promising 
they'd be paid when he got to the office would work. 

The Mission Hall on the corner of the block looked like the only 
practical proposition.

Now what? The breakfast line was forming up. Food would be good. 
But that would just be a distraction, he had to get out of here. 
One of the helpers was watching him and urging him to come in and 
join the others in the line. He nearly did, but he knew that would 
blow what little credibility he might be able to rustle up, clean 
out of the water. 

He turned to the helper and tried to put as much authority into his 
voice as he could manage. "My name's Fox Mulder, I'm a Federal 
Agent. I need to get in touch with the FBI district office 
urgently. Is there a phone I can use?"

The woman looked at him with an expression that fell somewhere 
between shock and amusement. She'd seen him before, but that time 
he had looked scarcely aware of his surroundings. In fact if it 
wasn't for how fast he'd run away when they approached him, she'd 
have said he was scarcely conscious. So they had just put down some 
food and water on the wall and left him to it.

Mulder continued in as close as he could get to his normal FBI 
voice. "I am serious and I do need your help."

"There's a phone on the corner."

"Where are we?"

She gave him the address.

His FBI voice was starting to give up on him but he carried on. 
"Can I borrow some money, I've been robbed. I think I'll need to 
call Washington because I can't remember the local office number."

She tried not to laugh. She'd heard plenty of stories from the 
streets, she'd met people who were convinced they were Abraham 
Lincoln but this was a new one. She looked at him again, this time 
taking in the matted hair with the smart cut, the dirty but 
expensive jeans and the unfocussed, glazed eyes.

Well he'd obviously had a good job and recently too. What the hell. 
She smiled and handed him some coins, "it's against all the rules, 
but to help the government."

He shrugged and assured her that he'd pay her back.

He dialled his call, quoted his name and badge number to the FBI 
switchboard operator and asked for assistance, someone to send a 
taxi to him to get him to the area office, something like that. The 
operator typed in Mulder's ID and her screen flickered up a message 
that told her that if Mulder called he was to be put through 
directly to AD Skinner. They called him back when he ran out of 
cash.

"Skinner here. Where the hell are you Mulder?"

"Miami."

"Miami. You were supposed to be back here weeks ago. What 
happened?"

Mulder mumbled the reply. "I don't know."

Skinner tried to drop the annoyance from his voice. "Are you ok?"

"I'm not injured, but I've got no money and I don't really know 
where I am. I need a taxi or something to get me to one of our 
offices."

"Don't move, I'll get you picked up."

"Thanks, Sir."

He sat on the steps of the hall watching the road. The helper from 
the mission came out and stood by his side handing him a roll and 
some soup. He wanted to turn them down and almost succeeded. But 
the young woman insisted and he was hungry, so he tried to smile 
and accepted the food. Then he waited.

The shiny dark blue car that arrived looked distinctly out of place 
in this street, the two men in suits looked even more out of place. 
Mulder walked over to them and used the most confident voice he 
could muster, "FBI?"

"Yeah right, you Agent Mulder?"  The man's voice conveyed pure 
disbelief but his face gave away a faint amusement.

"I'm afraid so, hate to make a mess of your car but I don't seem to 
have been staying at the right sort of hotel."

The Agents studied him curiously, offering reassuring, polite 
smiles. "It's OK. You've got a friendly Assistant Director there, 
or else you've got something on him. We're under orders to let you 
have anything you want and to let you do anything you want, 
provided we get you to the hospital by 3pm."

"Can I borrow ten dollars?" Mulder took the cash from the startled 
looking Agent and walked back into the Hall. He found the helper 
again, "thanks, thanks for everything."  He rejected her attempt to 
give him the eight dollars change, "put it in the collection if you 
don't want it."

"You mean that FBI stuff, it was true?"  She asked, smiling.

He shrugged and left.

The Agent driving the car turned to watch Mulder as he loaded 
himself unsteadily into the back seat. "So, any more orders?"

Mulder paused for an instant then the words came back in a rush. "A 
hotel with a shower, a change of clothes, some food. In something 
like that order."

"We hear and obey." The Agent in the passenger seat grinned. "So 
what happened?"

"I'm not quite sure. I guess I got drugged and then rolled by 
someone. What's the date?"

"The date! You're kidding. It's August 7. What's the last thing you 
remember?"

The last thing he remembered was planning to fly home from Europe 
and expecting to complete debriefing and be on holiday in time for 
the fourth of July. Six weeks, he'd lost six  weeks. He felt sick. 
"A few days ago" ,  he answered non committaly.

An hour later, he was coming out of a hot shower, dressing in new 
clothes and feeling a lot more human. He slept until the Agents 
woke him to go to the hospital.

-------------

The queasy feeling he'd had when he found out the date was now 
hitting him with a vengeance,. He sat and brooded. He didn't even 
remember flying back to the States. Six weeks?

The medical tests were all finished by the time Assistant Director 
Skinner walked through the door.

"Agent Mulder."

Mulder hadn't been away from Washington for so long that he didn't 
know that he was supposed to spring to attention at the sound of 
that voice. He got quickly to his feet and felt the room spin.

Skinner stared. "Sit down before you fall down."

"Sir. I didn't know you  were coming."

Skinner studied the nervous figure in front of him. "Seeing is 
believing. I'm told you've discharged yourself from hospital."

"Yes, Sir, I'm fine. They've done the examinations, I can get the 
results of the blood tests when I'm back home."

"So you're not sick?"

"No, Sir."

"Not injured?"  Skinner pointed at the messy bruising that ran 
across Mulder's left eye and temple.

"No Sir, it's days old and I don't think it was ever serious."

"So you're not sick and you're not injured. So do you have an 
explanation for me. Or did you just decide to stay on the beach 
instead of showing up at work?"

Mulder shifted nervously, looking at Skinner and then at the two 
Agents who accompanied him. "Could we get a coffee or something? My main problem now is
dehydration."

Skinner frowned, even by Mulder standards this was bad. Maybe 
Mulder would be more willing to talk about this on his own.   

They sat in a quiet corner of the hospital cafeteria.

Skinner broke the silence. "So, do you have an explanation for me?"

"Not really. I think I remember getting ready to fly back on the 29 
June then nothing until today."

"The crack on the head?"

Mulder shrugged. "I don't think that's what caused this."

"So?"

"Drugs."

Skinner nodded. "You remember nothing?"

"Not until I woke up this morning."

"It's probably best if you stay in here for a few days to 
recuperate."

"No, I'm just tired, dehydrated and hungry. And hospitals aren't 
very good for sleep or food. Are you flying back tonight?"

Skinner frowned for a moment then decided that even if he couldn't 
make Mulder stay in hospital he could at least get him home safely. 
"Tomorrow, first thing. You want to join us?" 

"Yes." 

"I'll arrange it."

"Thanks for the instructions you gave the Agents, they were really 
good to me."

Skinner nodded.

------------- 

Back at the hotel, the Agents accompanying Skinner watched Mulder 
like hawks through the meal. While Skinner was at the table they 
kept a respectful silence. When the AD walked away for a few 
minutes, they couldn't stop themselves.

"So been for a trip with the little green men?"

Mulder was too tired to fight. "I think it's more likely I've been 
on a trip with the big men in dark suits."

"You're lucky it wasn't the men in white coats." 

"Thanks, it's good to be back."

"So what have you got on Skinner? If it was anyone else who went 
AWOL they'd be suspended without pay awaiting a disciplinary 
tribunal."

"Tell you what. If you find out I enjoyed the break I'll send you 
my pay cheque. Happy?"

Skinner frowned uncomfortably at the words he overheard as he 
returned to the table. He knew that Mulder sometimes walked into 
problems and put people's backs up. But he still couldn't 
understand how they could jump on him like this when he was so 
obviously in trouble.

Mulder quickly excused himself from the table and went to bed. He 
was asleep the instant his head touched the pillow.

-----------------

Mulder sat with Skinner on the flight back. The AD keen to talk to 
him and almost as keen to show the other Agents where his 
sympathies lay.

Skinner kept the questions open. "So how long do you need before 
you come back?"

"I'd like to come back on Monday."

"You'll need to see the counselling people first. I'd view it as 
mandatory on cases where Agents are injured, held hostage or suffer 
memory loss. And you look like you might score on all three."

"There's no point." Mulder said abruptly.

"Why?"

"Because I've not forgotten because I can't get to the memories or 
I can't face remembering, I've no memories because someone drugged 
me and wiped them."

"You don't know that."

Mulder looked out of the window, a nervous cough. "Yes, I do. It's 
not the first time."

"You should still go to them. The stress. It could get to you 
later."

"If you order me to, I'll go for a few  weeks, then I'll tell them 
they've cured me. I'll come and convince you there's no need for 
mandatory sessions. You'll get bored of me whining and make them 
optional. And I won't go again."

"So I should just cut the crap and admit you can go straight to the 
< it's optional > statement."

Mulder smiled innocently. "Sounds right."

Skinner sat back and wondered where his high maintenance Agent got 
his resilience from. "So what do you want to do?"

"I'd like permission to investigate the days I've lost. I think 
I've got enough information to  build up a picture for at least two 
of the six weeks, maybe three, though I'd need to confirm it. It's 
just the days in between I need to work on."

"Just the days in between. You're remarkably casual about losing 
four weeks."

"There's not much I can do about it now except to try and find out 
what happened."

Skinner recognised the anxiety breaking into Mulder's controlled 
voice. "Yes, of course. So why do you think it's just part of it 
that you need to work on?"

"Assuming I flew back at the end of June as planned, the travelling 
and jet lag will have knocked me out for a day or so. They'd have 
kept me at the office for a couple of days for debriefing and 
report writing. So that's most of the first week. From the smell of 
my clothes when I woke up, I'd been sleeping in them for at least a 
week or two and the bruises on my head were about that old. It's a 
pretty safe bet I've been living in the cardboard boxes round that 
mission hall since then. So whatever led to me being there happened 
about two weeks ago."

"Not five weeks ago?"

"No my haircut's about three weeks old and I can't really imagine 
someone drugging me, beating me up, dumping me on a street corner 
and then taking me to a hair stylist."

"Did anyone ever tell you, you'd make a good Federal Agent if you 
set your mind to it?"

"No, can't say they have."

Skinner found himself suppressing a smile. 

Skinner handed Mulder a folder of mail. "Before you left I told 
them they had to mail me every week to update me on the progress of 
the case and to let me know what condition you were in."

Mulder looked at the weekly emails from the CIA. They comprised two 
words < Ongoing + Fine >. Twelve identical emails, Mulder smiled 
wryly . The thirteenth said,  < Closing + Fine >. The fourteenth 
dated July 3 said, < Closed + Fine >.  

The other emails were from Mulder, the first dated April 2, saying 
that it would be the last contact before the case closed. The 
second dated 29 June saying the case was closing and expected to be 
finished by July 3 and saying he'd be back in the office on July 7. 
The third dated July 7 saying that he wouldn't be back for a while.

Then there was the letter from the Director of the CIA  saying what 
an excellent job Mulder had done. It thanked Skinner for letting 
the Agency borrow him and said what a fine example of inter-agency 
co-operation it had been. Then another letter from the Director of 
the FBI  telling Skinner he knew all along that it would work out 
fine and to give Mulder a commendation when he got back.

Mulder read the letters in silence before turning to Skinner and 
saying without a flicker of emotion. "Glad they were pleased. Makes 
you think what might have happened if I'd screwed up and they got 
pissed with me."

This time Skinner couldn't stop himself from smiling. "OK you've 
got it. You can consider yourself your first case."  He paused and 
the smile turn into a frown. "You don't think it was the CIA do 
you?"

"Don't know, Sir."



END of Part One
==========


From jhumby@ctv.es Tue Oct 29 13:35:58 1996
NEW: The Insurance Policy - 1/11 - by Joann Humby
jhumby@iee.org

Legally:
The interesting characters in this story belong to Chris Carter, 
1013 and Fox as brought to life by DD, GA and the XFiles writers. 
I've borrowed them for fun not profit.

Part Two


Mulder slept his way through the weekend. Not surprising really. 
Sleep was the body's way of giving itself the chance to recover and 
while he didn't know what it was he was recovering from, it seemed 
to make sense that sleep was what he needed.

He had a lot of things to worry about, but they would just have to 
wait. Things like trying to make sense of the missing weeks. 

But he had a lot of things to be grateful for. He was back, 
uninjured and Skinner was on his side. He'd work on the problem 
like it was any other case. Track down the leads, piece together as 
much of the story as he could. And if it was still inadequate, then 
he'd worry about it. And if there was nothing he could do about it, 
then he'd learn to live with it. He thought of Dana Scully. She'd 
had to learn to live with a nightmare.

Despite the tiredness, he was looking forward to Monday morning and 
the chance to do something positive. Only one thing bothered him, 
he still hadn't spoken to Scully. He'd left a message at her office 
on Friday. He'd left messages on her answering machine on Saturday 
and Sunday, but no response. He guessed she'd gone away for the 
weekend so he'd start trying some more on Monday.

----------

MONDAY - WASHINGTON DC

A message to tell him to go directly to Skinner's office was 
waiting for him as he checked into the FBI building. So he did as 
he was told.

"Good morning, Sir."

Mulder was surprised to see Dana Scully sat at Skinner's meeting 
table with a video lying in front of her.

"Something very serious has come to my attention. Come and sit 
down". Skinner motioned to the table.

Mulder tried to smile at Scully. "Good morning, Agent Scully." 

Scully wouldn't look at him,  just gave him a brisk "Good Morning" 
in reply.

Dana Scully played the video. It was security film of a government 
research lab. The film had been bouncing from department to 
department in the Florida office before reaching Dana Scully for 
her personal assessment on Friday. No one had expected her to 
provide a positive ID on the gunman wearing a white coat and a 
surgical mask. The gunman who had killed the security guard.

Mulder looked at the figure. It could be him. Scully said it was 
him. She recognised the way he stood, the way he ran, the way he 
moved his hands. Mulder had to admit that she probably could 
recognise him on video more easily than he could recognise himself. 
Though he couldn't admit that he could be a killer.

It wasn't quite cut and dried. The camera panned the corridor 
picking out first Mulder at one end and then a guard at the other. 
But quite definitely Mulder was seen drawing his gun ready to fire. 
And quite definitely the security guard in the next part of the 
corridor fell dead.

The sick feeling he'd had when he first heard the date had 
reappeared with a vengeance. He felt the nausea rise. He spoke 
quickly, keeping his voice low and steady but talking in hope 
rather than certainty. "I didn't do it, the film's faked." 

"By who?" Skinner said coolly.

"How should I know."

Scully looked at Skinner and spoke. "The lab's not finished with it 
but the preliminary view is that the footage is real, the shadows 
on Agent Mulder and the guard as they move through the corridor are 
consistent and match the general lighting."

Skinner's voice was almost apologetic. "I have no alternative but 
to suspend you pending further enquiries." 

"Sir.  No, please. I'll do a lie detector test. Anything. But if 
you suspend me I won't be able to find out what happened."

"And if what happened is how it looked?"

"You'll have all the evidence you need to convict me."

"You don't think we have?"

"A video with no datestamp. The victim and the gunman don't appear 
on the footage together. Even if they did, despite what Agent 
Scully says, no jury would accept a positive ID based on body 
language. Unless there's something else you've found. Prints or 
something?"

Scully's voice was solid. "Nothing,  but then we haven't found the 
murder weapon yet." 

The situation was impossible. Skinner didn't see how he could avoid 
suspending Mulder, not after what he'd seen, not after Scully had 
identified him with such absolute certainty. It wouldn't have been 
the first time Mulder had broken into a building on some wild goose 
chase. Cold blooded killing didn't seem to fit the Mulder he knew 
but maybe that was just wishful thinking. Maybe if a man is pushed 
far enough, often enough, they change. 

And of course, Skinner knew,  if Mulder was already drugged when he 
entered the building then maybe all bets were off. After all when 
his water had been drugged, Mulder hadn't acted like Mulder.

"Work with Agent Scully. Review the video. Give me something that 
says I don't have to suspend you. You've got the rest of the day."

Scully still wouldn't look at him. Mulder rose from the table and 
suggested that they move to the video lab. Scully stared for a 
moment at Skinner, then picked up the tapes and followed.

--------------

They walked in silence along the corridor.

Mulder spoke without looking at her. "Scully. Please don't do 
this."

"Do what?"

"Don't make this impossible."

Scully kept her face down and her voice bland. "Make what 
impossible?"

"Stop it. I need to know if I did it. And if I did it, I need to 
know why."

"Sounds good."

A touch of panic entered Mulder's voice. "I'm already almost too 
scared to do this. Please try and work with me."

"I am doing."

"I can't believe you're doing this."

"Doing what?"

"You've gathered the evidence, found me guilty, turned down the 
appeal, now you're waiting to carry out the sentence.  If it was 
anyone else you'd seen on that video you'd let me check the tapes, 
review the evidence and you'd help me do it. You've not got enough 
to convict in a court, so you've decided to convict me without a 
trial."

She paused for an instant and tried to soften her voice a little 
before replying. "Of course I'll help. I'm just trying not to get 
my hopes up."

He swallowed and tried to suppress the rising tide of nausea.

--------------

They spent the day running though the tapes. Scully working with 
one of the Bureau specialists looking for mismatches in shadows and 
lighting, discontinuities in the flow of the tape that could reveal 
that the tape was a result of editing. 

They weren't getting very far. If it was an edit, then it was very 
professionally done. Any of the little shudders and shakes they saw 
in the image could just have been the result of the video camera 
wobbling slightly as it moved to scan the whole corridor. Nothing 
positive, but nothing negative.

Mulder sat with another copy rerunning not just the murder sequence 
but the footage before and after the incident. He knew that ten 
minute sequence so well by mid afternoon that all he had to do was 
close his eyes and it replayed. The tiredness was coming back, 
sweeping through him, threatening to send him back to sleep. But he 
knew he had to stay awake.

Someone in the lab handed him a sandwich and a cup of coffee, he 
said thanks, but he knew that he wouldn't be able to swallow 
anything. He ran the tape again.

Mulder suddenly asked for help with the tape. "Could you zoom in on 
where the floor meets the wall, below that light switch." The 
resolution wasn't good enough to get a clear image but there was 
obviously an object,  maybe a tie pin, maybe a pen cap, something 
like that kicked to the edge of the corridor.

The thing was there five minutes before the killing when the guard 
was doing his previous routine patrol. It was there when the guard 
was shot. It was there 5 minutes later when the guard was found.

But it wasn't there when the camera showed Mulder walking past that 
light switch moving along the corridor immediately before the 
shooting. Scully sighed with relief. "It's not the same time. You 
weren't there at the same time as the guard was there."

The nausea was still there, but at least now his heart beat wasn't 
drowning out the voices of the other Agents.

Mulder let Scully explain the pictures to Skinner. 

Skinner relaxed. "So you can add the questions of who tried to 
frame you and who killed the guard to your list."


Mulder spoke for the first time. "It should be a lot easier now. 
Whoever did it was in position to tamper with that security film, 
that limits the field. "

Skinner nodded and looked across at Mulder. "And now?"

"Florida. To see the CIA people I worked with, check out the lab 
where that killing took place and to talk to the people around the 
mission hall I ended up at."

Skinner turned to face Dana Scully. "Agent Scully.  Will you be 
able to free yourself from your normal duties for a few days to 
help on this?".

Her voice sounded calmer than she felt. "If that's what Agent 
Mulder wants." She looked at Mulder, but he wouldn't look at her. 

"Always," he said, but he didn't look up.

"OK, I expect to see a progress report every day. And I don't mean 
a two word email like those CIA ones. If you're not getting close 
by the end of the week I may need to pull you back."

"Yes Sir."

--------------

They arranged their flights and Dana left for her hotel.

Mulder headed back to his apartment. He went straight to bed, 
curled up and was asleep.

----------

TUESDAY

On the flight out, they avoided eye contact. Scully tried to sound 
positive. "Look if that's what they tried to frame you with, 
whatever you actually did while you were missing, or whatever it 
was you saw wasn't as bad."

"That's a great relief."

"Look, I'm sorry about yesterday, I should have trusted you."

"How could you, I didn't trust myself."

"You've got to understand. From the moment I saw that video on 
Friday, I'd been brooding over it non stop, looking for a way to 
prove it was fake. I was so scared that I wouldn't be able to. I 
know I shouldn't have shut you out like that but I couldn't help 
it."

"It's OK."

"No it's not. You won't even look at me."

"Stop it Scully. Let it drop. Let's just say when I fantasised 
about our reunion that wasn't how I imagined it."

"Mulder."

"Let it drop."

The rest of the flight was passed in silence. Dana Scully watched 
her old partner carefully out of the corner of her eye. He looked 
like he needed to sleep. He shouldn't be back at work. He wasn't up 
to it, not physically, not emotionally. Maybe she could help him 
through it, take the pressure off him until he was strong again.

-----------------

MIAMI

The meeting with Mulder's old temporary boss at the CIA went better 
than either Mulder or Scully could have hoped. Mike Cameron seemed 
upset by what had happened and promised all the help he could give.

They looked through the case reports, the debriefing sessions, the 
flight details and started to rebuild Mulder's diary.

During the morning, Mulder's gloom had started to lift and he and 
Scully had started to relax again.

They talked to the people he had worked with since his return from 
Europe. 

There was just one last thing. Mulder asked Cameron if he had got 
his hair cut while he was working for them, Cameron said no but 
that he'd been saying he was going to have to get it cut before he 
went back to work. He rechecked the file photos of the people he'd 
worked with. Selected three and emailed them with a question. 
"Where do you get your hair cut?"

"What? You're asking them what?" Scully quizzed.

"Some time in the missing days I got my hair cut. I'd have asked 
someone who looked ok what salon they used. What's so odd about 
that?"

"Nothing. I just hadn't realised you were that vain about your 
hair, it doesn't show."

"Thanks. Did you really think this smart but lightly dishevelled 
look just comes naturally? You have to go to specialists."

"I can imagine."

------------------------------------------------

Mulder wrote Skinner's progress email that night in his hotel 
bedroom.

Tuesday report:
29 June - flight home
30 June - arrived, slept, started writing up final report
1 July - first debrief 
2 July - investigating team prepare for final debrief 
3 July - final debrief for regional and national CIA management - 
goodbye dinner
4 July - checked out of hotel - didn't take rental car from car 
park - sorry about the extra charges
7 Aug - woke up - went to Mission Hall - called FBI
Ongoing + Fine.

He hit the send.

Mulder rested his head back against the wall. Six weeks was a long 
time to lose. He'd been disorientated and distressed enough by 
having a few hours of his memory stolen from him at Ellens Air Base 
years ago. But at least back then he was fairly sure they'd wiped 
the memory because of something he'd seen, fairly sure that he 
hadn't done anything wrong. 

All he wanted to do was sleep. Except that he wasn't less sleepy 
when he woke up. 

If he stayed awake he felt guilty about feeling so sorry for 
himself. Six weeks wasn't a long time, especially not when he had 
leads on how to account for some of them. He had been returned 
tired and undernourished but uninjured, a couple of hours having a 
check up and he was discharged from hospital. 

Mulder closed his eyes and looked for the limits, sought out the 
boundaries. His reaction was wrong, he knew that. He was scared. He 
wasn't hurt, he wasn't worried about what might have been done to 
him, it didn't matter. Physically he had no more reason to brood 
over this incident than any of the more obviously life threatening 
ones. And he'd never brooded over them. 

But he was scared of what he might have done. He had reason to be 
scared. He'd walked the knife edge too many times not to be scared. 
He had always pulled back, but it wasn't right that he should have 
even got that close. There had been excuses. Drugs in the water. 
The need to let go of himself to understand the mind of a killer. 
Scully's disappearance. Excuses not reasons. What if they'd given 
him a really good excuse this time? What if they'd softened him up 
with drugs? He couldn't predict what his behaviour would have been, 
couldn't claim it was going fundamentally against his character.

----------------------

Dana Scully lay awake and tried to stop thinking. She needed sleep 
but her head kept racing. He wouldn't look at her, hadn't looked at 
her since they left Washington. She revised that; he stared at her 
all the time. As soon as she looked back at him he turned away, 
bowed his head. She felt bad about the way she'd treated him when 
she met him in Skinner's office. She hadn't seen him for six months 
and she had been too scared to even say his name when they met. The 
things she'd told him, about not wanting to get up her hopes, all 
of that had been true.

He'd looked so pleased to see her again when they met in Skinner's 
office. Then he'd looked so fragile when she'd walked with him down 
the corridor to the video lab. On the plane he'd looked helpless. 
Still, things were looking up. They'd got some information. She'd 
been able to tease him about that hair cut and he'd smiled back. 
Maybe he'd be ok.



End of Part Two


From jhumby@ctv.es Wed Oct 30 04:32:45 1996
NEW: The Insurance Policy - 3/11 - by Joann Humby
jhumby@iee.org

Legally:
The interesting characters in this story belong to Chris Carter, 
1013 and Fox as brought to life by DD, GA and the XFiles writers. 
I've borrowed them for fun not profit.


Part 3
--------------

WEDNESDAY

They hadn't expected to get anything on the credit card usage 
search they'd initiated, so the fax that detailed the transactions 
was a surprise. The hotel payment on the fourth. Then nothing until 
the twenty-fourth. But on the twenty-fourth someone had been on a 
spending spree.

The computer store that had come in for most of the spending 
weren't able to help much. The warranty record contained no useful 
information. Scully checked the list of items and prices again. One 
of them was a modem bought with a PC and Internet access software. 
Could they get that lucky?

A desperate series of phone calls later brought back the Network 
accounts that went through for that zipcode on that day and told 
them which ones had hardware that tallied with what was bought in 
the store. And soon they were face to face with the proud owner of 
a new computer.

Federal Agents? The teenager's face filled with horror. Federal 
Agents, here to check on a credit card theft. Well yes, he knew the 
machine was very cheap but he didn't know it was obtained like 
that. Yes, he probably could have guessed. Of course he'd do 
anything to cooperate. 

So he handed them the names and address of the people he got it 
from.

-----------

The drab block of rooms smelt of decay. The teenagers shuffled 
nervously. "I said we shouldn't do it. Not once we'd found the 
badge. You were just wandering around looking dumb. We just thought 
you'd got too high on coke or something and your friends had 
panicked and dropped you here to sleep it off. We only found out 
you were a Fed after it was too late."

"And?" Mulder said pointedly.

"And then we put you in the van, drove you to the other side of 
town and dropped you near the mission."

"So if I was that soft a target because of the drugs, how come you 
beat me up?"

"You were crashing around, you didn't know what you were doing but 
you still might have hurt one of us. Hey, we dropped you at that 
mission place so someone would look after you."

Dana Scully sighed her reply. "I'm sure the police will be very 
understanding."

-----------------

They soon confirmed Mulder's other suspicion, he had been hanging 
around the mission for two weeks. The mission helper who'd lent him 
coins a few days earlier, now decided he looked like the FBI Agent 
he had claimed to be. She told him about them trying to get him to 
come inside and him running away as soon as anyone approached. They 
had even called the police to take him to a hospital but he hid as 
soon as he saw their car.

Mulder surveyed the "hotel" where he had apparently been spending 
the night before the kids had mugged him. The guy on the desk had 
been unimpressed with their ID's. Only Scully's recitation of the 
trading and fire regulations and the likely actions associated with 
them had made him decide that perhaps, after all, baiting the Feds 
wasn't worth it.

He showed them the room where Mulder had stayed. It had been relet 
as soon as Mulder had been missing for a day and his things had 
been moved out.

Like the teenagers who had stolen his wallet and ditched his ID 
card, the hotel man had assumed that he was drugged when his 
"friends" had dropped him off. No questions asked. His friends had 
paid two weeks cash in advance. And if the worst came to the worst? 
Well he wouldn't have been the first OD to die on the premises.

The easy to sell items had gone to the second hand store. Mulder 
checked the pockets of his leather jacket still hanging on the rack 
in the shop and found a couple of  receipts, a few sunflower seed 
husks and nothing much else.

So he knew what had happened up until July 4. He knew where he had 
been since July 24. He had been right, it was just those days in 
the middle he had to sort out

-------------

They drove to the first on the list of suggested hair salons. "Nah, 
wouldn't go there. Too tacky, all those fake columns. You would 
just be paying for their next can of gilt paint." The second had a 
predominantly male staff. "No." The third was a possible, so they 
went in.

The receptionist winked as they walked in through the door, she 
leant out and shouted towards one of the stylists. "Carrie, he's 
back. You win your bet."

Scully frowned at Mulder who was now shuffling uncomfortably.

Scully asked the first question. "You've obviously seen my partner 
before. Could you tell us when?"

"Your partner?" The receptionist looked disappointed.

Scully pulled out her ID. "We're FBI, we work together."

"Oh right." The receptionist smiled again at Mulder and scanned 
back through the appointment book. "July 17."

Mulder took over questioning. "Was I on my own last time I was 
here?"

"No. That guy was with you." She paused and looked puzzled. "Are we 
giving evidence here or have you actually forgotten something?"

He motioned for her to go on. "Please try and tell us everything 
you remember."

"I'll get Carrie, she worked on you." She smiled again, then 
frowned. "You really don't remember, do you."

"Please. Tell me everything that you remember. "

"You came in with that guy. He was staring at you the whole time, 
like you weren't supposed to be talking to us. We thought he was 
jealous. I asked if he was your boyfriend." She leaned knowingly 
towards Scully, "You know how it stinks when the nice ones turn out 
to be gay. I've been disappointed like that before, so I like to 
check early on." She turned back to Mulder who was blushing and 
trying not to laugh. "You said he was your bodyguard."

"What did he look like?"

"Like a body guard, muscles, about 6 feet 4, blond, crew cut. Dark 
suit that didn't hang right."

Carrie joined in the discussion. "He went ape when you said that 
you'd like a manicure while you were here."

"A manicure?" Mulder said suspiciously.

"Sure," she said picking up his hand. "Not that you can tell now. 
What happened to you?"

He didn't answer the question, just asked one of his own. "I guess 
you didn't see me or him any time before or since." 

"I'd certainly remember you. I try not to remember guys who look 
like him, but I don't think so".

"Thanks for your help".

Once they got back into the car, Scully stopped trying to hide her 
sniggers. "You're a dark horse. Do you always have that affect on 
women?"

"I don't know," he said, a quick smirk appearing on his lips, "do 
I?"

"No."

"No, that's what I thought."  He paused. "So on the seventeenth, 
I'm under some kind of guard. But I'm not heavily drugged. And 
they've not admitted that I'm a prisoner else they would have 
stopped me going to the salon. But, I was obviously going out of my 
way to be noticed, so I must have been getting nervous."

"And you are making your guard nervous."

"So they are probably going to take some action before I try to get 
away from them."

"And we're next going to find you a week later, drugged, close to 
death, in a roach infested hotel."

--------------------------------

They sat in the coffee shop trying to work out their next move. It 
made sense for Mulder to get back to the CIA and try and find out 
more about the people he'd met. See if any of them was a tall, 
blond, crew cut equipped bodyguard. And for Scully to go the Lab 
with the same questions.

Mulder responded to the buzz of the cellular phone, the voice at 
the other end of the line was Skinner's administrative assistant. 
She put her boss on the line. "Agent Mulder. Got your email. Good 
progress. Any more news?"

"Yes, Sir. Looks like I was right about sleeping rough for two 
weeks by that mission."

"Good." Then there was a silence. When Skinner spoke again there 
was a hesitancy in his voice. "I'm afraid I have to recall you to 
Washington."

Mulder felt an involuntary shiver run over his spine. He wanted to 
argue, to fight for a few more days, to say that three weeks was 
too long to lose without a fight, but he kept his voice cool and 
professional. "Is there a problem?"

"One of the Director's team has had a coronary. I've been asked to 
take his place for the next few weeks. Michael Masters is coming in 
here, he's head of one of the Bureau Regional Offices. VCS are 
going through a staffing crisis. He needs all his senior agents to 
head up teams." An almost apologetic tone slipped into Skinner's 
voice. "I'd have needed you back."

Mulder wondered at the irony. Most of the time, to these people, he 
was Spooky, the Bureau's most unwanted. He'd almost forgotten that 
in other circumstances he was supposed to be a senior agent. Almost 
inevitable that now would be the time to remind him. He almost 
laughed. "Today, Sir?"

"Yes. You've a meeting first thing tomorrow."

"I'll be there." Mulder tried to put some life into his voice. 
"Good luck with the work for the Director, Sir."

Mulder thought he heard a brief sigh from Walter Skinner before the 
reply arrived. "Try not to annoy Masters."

============

THURSDAY - WASHINGTON DC

Acting Assistant Director Michael Masters studied Mulder carefully 
as he entered the room. He waved him into the seat in front of him. 
"Agent Mulder. Sorry to recall you at such short notice. You've 
heard the background to this?"

Mulder nodded. "Yes, Sir."

"Are you fit for work?"

Mulder puzzled over that. He had, after all, been back on duty 
since Monday. "Yes, Sir."
 
"Because, if you aren't, then you should be seeing the 
psychological counselling services. I'm sure they'd consider 
favourably a request for medical leave."

"Not necessary, Sir."

"I know that Assistant Director Skinner had tried to give you some 
time to investigate your," a nervous pause before Masters 
continued, "err, disappearance. But, if you are fit, then I need 
you back here."

"I understand."

"Though I am surprised that the AD didn't insist on mandatory 
counselling sessions. The circumstances of your disappearance 
warrant it. And the memory loss, well that sounds like you 
shouldn't be working at all. Why do you suppose the AD Skinner 
didn't insist on counselling in your case?"

"Don't know Sir. You should ask him."

"I didn't ask you why AD Skinner didn't insist, merely why do you 
suppose he didn't."

Mulder nodded at the refinement. "Because it would only be a waste 
of their time."

"And yours?"

"And mine."

Mulder fidgeted uncomfortably under Master's gaze. They'd met a few 
times before. Mulder shifted slightly as he thought of the last 
couple of occasions. A commendation from the Director, presented by 
Masters for rescuing one of Masters' Agents. A disciplinary 
tribunal for misconduct for not getting approval for an 
investigation that had left an Agent injured and an unarmed suspect 
dead. Mulder wasn't quite sure which recollection made him wince 
more. 

Masters leant forward. "Nonetheless, I'm sure you have your reasons 
and he had his. He knows you better than I do, perhaps he believed 
that if there were any problems later you would go to him. Could 
that be the case?"

Mulder tried to maintain eye contact but was finding it difficult. 
"You would have to ask AD Skinner, Sir."

"Fine. Well, I doubt that you would come to me if things got tough 
so I don't even have to consider the option. Fortunately the case 
I've called you back to is in DC. Which means that you will have no 
problem visiting psychiatric services. I'll give you the choice as 
to whether or not I make it mandatory."

Mulder almost smiled at the phrasing. The choice, as if there was 
any choice on offer. "Not necessary Sir. I'll make the appointment. 
Did you want to discuss the case now or would you prefer me to read 
the file first?"

Masters pushed the file towards him and started to talk.

Mulder leant across the desk to pick up the case file. It was 
opened in July, the FBI case was already weeks old. Three 
kidnappings, the first was of a nine year old girl. Her thirteen 
year old brother was taken at the same time, except his body was 
found a few days later and there was still no sign of the girl. Two 
other incidents had followed. The most recent had taken place three 
weeks ago, a senator's daughter, the child's nanny had gone missing 
at the same time. The nanny's body had been found the previous 
morning but she had been dead for most of the three weeks. Two 
deaths and three missing children. Mulder squirmed and looked at 
Masters.

Mulder cleared his throat. "Has there been much publicity on it? 
I've not had time to catch up with things."

Masters sat up, struck by the combination of the speed that Mulder 
picked up on the key points and that strictly non committal 
phrasing 'not had time to catch up'. Masters spoke briskly. "Lots. 
The families are wealthy with strong political contacts and now the 
latest victims are the family of a Senator. The press and other 
people are very interested. I need you to take over." Masters 
paused. "If you are fit."

"There's already an established team on the case, Sir."

Masters looked back with icy eyes. "The Senator works closely with 
Senator Mathesson. It was felt that your input would be valuable."

Mulder shrugged. There was a difference between input and taking 
over the case team. Twelve Agents assigned to the case with Richard 
Carr as Special Agent in Charge. Carr was experienced, fifteen 
years in VCS, most of them running cases and now Mulder was being 
asked to take over. 

Between the job for the CIA and the time he'd lost, Mulder had been 
out of the Bureau for five months. He doubted that even five months 
would have been long enough for people to have forgotten his 
reputation. He'd been back at work for three days and one of those 
he'd spent trying to stop himself from getting suspended and 
charged with murder.

Mulder tried to clarify the situation. "Is Agent Carr being asked 
to take over another investigation?"

Masters understood Mulder's hesitation. He'd be hesitant himself if 
he was in Mulder's shoes. But he had a job to do and so did Mulder. 
Masters had gone as far as he could in offering Mulder an escape 
clause, 'not fit enough' to return. But if Mulder wouldn't take it, 
he'd just have to do what he got paid for. "No, Agent Mulder, Carr 
will report to you on this one."

Mulder nodded and left.

--------------

Mulder headed down to the Basement. Familiar yet strange, five 
months since he'd last been in the X-Files offices.

As soon as he opened the door a dreadful feeling of deja vu struck 
him, paralysing him for an instant. Not deja vu, a real memory, 
vivid and terrifying. He thought of the day when Skinner had 
reopened the X-Files and he had returned to this room without Dana 
Scully.

He looked across at one of the filing cabinets. Remembered putting 
bits of Dana Scully's life into one of the drawers.

< Stop it. Stop it. Stop it. > She'd been gone for months. No real 
clues where. She'd been returned near death. An implant in her 
neck. A potential death sentence if those MUFON women were right. A 
spy in her own brain if the work of the Bureau's lab team was 
right. 

Nothing had happened to him. A few weeks, that was all. No one had 
asked for a headstone to be carved with his name. He'd come back. 
Uninjured. No tiny device implanted. No reason to believe that 
there were timebombs in his body. It was nothing. He shivered and 
walked the rest of the way into the room.

He cleared the desk and sat down, opening the case folder and 
trying to read. He couldn't face looking at the contents. So he 
closed his eyes. Waited. He opened his eyes again, fighting for 
concentration and the ability to look at the story without shaking.

A brisk knock on the door. He leant back. Not now. Not yet. His 
body ached, every muscle stiff and taut. His eyes would betray his 
tiredness. And his emotions. He put on dark sunglasses and invited 
the visitor to come in.

Special Agent Richard Carr, Violent Crimes, the right man for the 
job of Agent in Charge on a high profile case. And he'd just been 
replaced. 

Mulder looked at Carr. Perfect. Carr looked the part, tough, 
professional, intelligent, concerned. Mulder looked like someone in 
need of a long vacation. To Carr, Mulder looked like someone in 
need of nursing care.

Carr attempted to sound warm. "Interesting office, I've never 
visited down here before. I guess you'll be coming up to join the 
team. Though if you need sunglasses down here, I'm not sure how 
you'll cope with windows and daylight."

Mulder recognised the attempt to lighten the meeting. "Oh, I cope. 
I just work nights instead. I've not read the whole of the file yet 
but if you want to get me up to speed, it would be good to hear 
your latest thoughts on it."

"From what I hear, I'm not paid to think anymore. That's your job. 
I just do as I'm told." The smile Carr wore didn't mask the 
irritation in the words.

Mulder shrugged with understanding. "And I just do as I'm told. 
Still. Paid for it or not, there's no harm in thinking."

Carr nodded in reply. They talked.

----------

Mulder knew that he had to do this and knew that he would hate it. 
Carr was right, it made sense for him to move up to the VCS office 
while he was running the case. Knowing that it made sense and that 
it was right didn't really make it feel any easier. And it didn't 
tally with the dread that he felt about the process. 

He didn't think he could cope with them, not yet. It was bad enough 
on routine cases when his usual defences were up. Bad enough, 
dealing with the Coltons and the Blevins and the Pattersons who 
claimed to despise his methods and who dismissed his theories, even 
when they needed his help. Bad enough when he was dealing with X-
Files.

This was different, he was replacing Carr, a popular team leader on 
the case. And Carr wasn't even being moved to give him a clean run 
at it.

It was different because he had returned from Florida full of dread 
about what he might have done in those missing three weeks. Six 
weeks, he corrected. It was different because his brain and his 
body were exhausted. It was different because his defences were in 
tatters.

It was also different because Dana Scully wasn't at his side.

He looked around the assembled group. Bored, blase, cynical, 
defensive expressions with a certain amount of contempt at the 
edges. Understandable. Replacing the Agent in Charge, mid 
investigation, was normally a sign that the whole team were viewed 
as failing. Replacing the Agent in Charge with someone not even 
normally assigned to the division made it worse. The replacement 
being Mulder made it an insult.

He forced himself to concentrate. What now? What would they expect? 
A rousing speech to rally his forces? Instructions to collect ray 
guns and go out hunting little green men? A tug at the emotional 
heart strings to make sure they didn't try to bargain their way out 
of overtime?

He turned to face them and tried to remember everyone's names. "I 
know Agent Carr has already told you that I'm joining the team. 
I've had a few minutes to talk to a couple of people, but basically 
I only know what's in the file and I don't claim to understand all 
of that. So you'll just have to expect me to ask stupid questions." 
He looked around, not much reaction, maybe a little softening in 
some of their glares. "Any questions for me while we're here as a 
group?"

A few mumbles and a stage whisper of 'did you enjoy the vacation.'

Mulder considered whether to ignore it but decided he might as well 
get it out of the way. "Thanks for noticing I've been gone,  Agent 
Cullen. I've been doing an assignment for the CIA. And it's very 
unlikely that you'll be able to come up with a spook joke that I've 
not heard, so it's not worth the bother." 

And with that he glossed over the last five months.

His audience surveyed him sceptically but with a little less 
hostility than before. They'd find out soon enough, find out some 
more about his mysterious failure to return from his mission for 
the CIA. After all they were Federal Agents, trained investigators.




END of Part 3
============


From jhumby@ctv.es Wed Oct 30 04:33:06 1996
NEW: The Insurance Policy - 4/11 - by Joann Humby
jhumby@iee.org

Legally:
The interesting characters in this story belong to Chris Carter, 
1013 and Fox as brought to life by DD, GA and the XFiles writers. 
I've borrowed them for fun not profit.

Part 4

He hated this, sitting on display in the bullpen of an office up in 
VCS. The basement was a refuge, he could escape there for a while, 
but the basement meant that he would be alone with his thoughts. He 
didn't want to be alone. He talked to the other Agents. Some, he 
knew, were nervous of him. Others, he knew, would claim to view him 
as a joke. Some were just curious, having finally come face to face 
with the occupant of the mysterious X-Files office. 

There were moments when Mulder's face gave away his exhaustion and 
his frailty. He knew that it wouldn't take much of a push right now 
for the calm professionalism to evaporate. For the control to be 
replaced by anger. For the tightly held muscles to spasm into 
shivers. For the tired eyes to fill with tears.

---------

He wasn't happy to hear from the Employee support team that they 
had been able to arrange 'at very short notice' to get him in to 
see their most experienced therapist that very afternoon. He 
couldn't help but smile at their enthusiasm, he felt like the fly 
finally forced to walk into the spider's web. His lucky day. He 
wouldn't mind betting that the chief spider had changed his 
appointments specially to be the one greeting him.

"Hello Agent Mulder."

"Dr Framley."

"Please take a seat. I was surprised to see your name on my 
appointments list. I must say I thought you had always deliberately 
avoided meeting with us. Even when I might say it could have helped 
you avoid disciplinary problems. Still it's good to see you've 
finally come around to us. It isn't even a mandatory visit, I'm 
impressed."

Mulder regarded the balding figure coolly. "Do you always do 
opening speeches?"

Framley breathed in and forced himself to keep the snap out of his 
voice. "Only when the occasion demands it. What would you like to 
talk about?"

"Nothing."

"Then why are you here?"

"Wow. One minute into the schedule and you want me to give you my 
take on the meaning of life."

"Why did you ask for an appointment, if you've nothing to say."

"Everyone tells me it's a great place to visit."

Framley paused and considered the pit they were digging, he decided 
to stop digging. "Let's say we restart this session."

"Fine."

Framley decided to try a different tack. If Mulder wouldn't 
volunteer information maybe he would respond to a direct question. 
"Tell me why you didn't return to work as planned."

"I was taken by an unknown subject and prevented from contacting 
anyone. When they had finished with me, they drugged me and dropped 
me at a flea pit hotel. While drugged I was mugged by two juveniles 
who dumped me by a mission hall. The affects of the drugs took two 
weeks to fade. When I came out of it, I called the Bureau. AD 
Skinner had someone pick me up."

Framley stared back, momentarily lost for words. He cleared his 
throat before responding. "A remarkably concise description. But 
what did you mean by 'when they finished with you'?"

"When they had finished with me."

Framley sighed. "How long did they hold you for?"

"Three weeks."

"Why?"

"Don't know."

"What did they do?"

"Don't know."

"You're suffering from amnesia?" Framley looked alarmed and hastily 
started jotting notes. Mulder definitely shouldn't be working.

"I'm suffering from memory loss due to drugs administered to me by 
other people."

"But you are fit for work?"

"Yes."

They then launched into an argument over the clinical definition of 
amnesia and its management. The therapist gave up when he realised 
that Mulder was probably going to win. Obviously Mulder had made a 
study of the subject.

"You don't look good." Dr Framley continued. 

"I spent two weeks sleeping rough, next to no food, not much drink, 
system full of drugs. And for three weeks before that, things might 
not have been much better. How do you reckon you would look?"

"I'm not a field Agent."

"No, you're not, are you."

"I'm not running one of the most pressured investigations in VCS."

Mulder was startled for an instant. Word gets around fast. But then 
obviously Masters had warned them and obviously that was why he was 
getting the priority responses. "No, you're not."

"Tell me how losing five weeks feels."

Mulder decided not to mention that it was six weeks. He scowled his 
reply. "Guess." A pause. "Go on. Use your imagination."

"Are you angry?"

"Yes."

"Scared?"

"Yes."

"Do you feel out of control?"

"Not now."

"Are you worried about what may have been done to you?"

"A little."

"Are you worried about what you may have done?"

"Yes."

"Why?"

"I can't control other people's actions. It disturbs me that it's 
possible that because of drugs or for some other reason, I failed 
to control my own."

"Do you have reason to be scared?"

"I've killed people. In the line of duty. I'm capable of killing, 
given the right motive. I know that."

Framley sat further back in his seat, edging instinctively away 
from the unnervingly calm figure facing him. He looked at the list 
of notes on his desk. A list of traps for the unwitting. Mulder 
believed in a lot of things, said the right way any one of them 
could get him on psychiatric leave. Spirit possession, apparently 
magical  mental powers, government conspiracy, extraterrestrials. 
But how did you phrase a referral based on a patient who talked too 
matter of factly about a traumatic experience, too comfortably 
about their worries. Hiding nothing so far as Framley could tell. 
Yet if he could say so much without prompting, then that probably 
meant he had so much more to hide.

Mulder watched Framley carefully and smiled. "You think I shouldn't 
have told you that straight out. That I've got to be lying because 
it was too easy. You're wrong. I spend most of my working life 
asking questions until people tell me the things they could have 
told me first time. I try to save other people the trouble."

Framley frowned, Mulder was not going to walk easily into any 
traps. Not yet. "Thank you Agent Mulder, for sparing me the 
trouble. Maybe we've gone as far today as we can in one session. 
I'd like you to book two appointments per week with me until things 
improve. And if you feel the need to talk sooner, just call, we'll 
find a way to see you."

Mulder thought about the words. "Until what things improve, Doctor 
Framley?"

"Until you look like you are sleeping, eating right."

Mulder nodded. "That's ok then. I just hope you aren't holding your 
breath waiting for my memory to come back."

"Are you holding your breath waiting for your memory to come back?"

Mulder smiled politely and said goodbye.

---------------

Back in the basement, he opened the file again and looked at the 
photos. Smiling faces from family albums, corpses in police autopsy 
bays. The room was too quiet, but he couldn't face being around 
other people, someone might try and talk to him. If he went home, 
he'd fall asleep. He couldn't understand that, why he was so tired, 
he'd had days to get past that phase. So he had to stay here. He 
switched on the PC, at least it made a humming noise and the swirls 
of the screensaver made the place look alive.

Rebecca Stanton went missing from her home on the night of  July 
third. Her thirteen year old brother, Michael, who had been 
watching TV with her had disappeared at the same time. No 
witnesses, no sign of forced entry, no sign of a struggle, no 
mysterious noises, no strange vehicles in the area. Not 
surprisingly the first focus had been on a missing person case, the 
two children had gone off somewhere together. Then the suspicion 
logged that perhaps Michael had done something to Rebecca.

He hated this case, hated it with a vengeance. Fit for work? He 
couldn't imagine ever having been fit to work on a case like this. 
'A staffing crisis in VCS?' Yeah, right. So short staffed they had 
left one of their most experienced ASAC's in place on the case team 
even when Mulder was brought in to lead the investigation. Whose 
bright idea was this? Not Skinner's. Masters? Why? Mulder didn't 
even know him. Someone else then, someone who wanted him to fail, 
crack up.

He wasn't going to get through the case unless he stopped the 
dangerous thoughts that were running through his head. He needed to 
shut them down. 

He wasn't going to fail. He wasn't going to crack up. They weren't 
going to win that easily. And he wasn't going to let down three 
little girls stolen from their families. He wouldn't let down a 
young woman killed because she happened to be a witness to one of 
the abductions. Nor a young boy, suspected of murdering his sister, 
suspected until the day they found his dead body in a park.

He focused on the words in the file, the body of Michael Stanton 
was found on the Sixth of July. The autopsy revealed only that he 
had been relatively well cared for while he was missing, but that 
he'd been drugged and the final drug had been given to him as an 
overdose.

Mulder tried to think positive thoughts. Jotted a few notes. 
Further analysis of the toxicology reports, maybe fax the notes 
down to Florida for Scully's expert eyes to consider. Well cared 
for while held captive, could mean the girls were still alive. 
Gradually the note pad filled with actions. The feeling of 
helplessness forced back for now.

--------------

FRIDAY MORNING 

Mulder looked at the clock on the wall of the VCS office. Around 
about this time, one week ago, he'd woken up in a heap of garbage 
in Florida. A heap of garbage where apparently he'd spent a two 
week vacation. He tried not to think about where he'd spent the 
previous three weeks. He had a feeling that the pile of garbage 
might have been a better place to stay.

Was it really only a week ago? A week didn't seem long enough to 
explain it. He'd slept a lot. Got himself off a murder charge. 
Dealt with a credit card theft. Found three of his missing weeks. 
Got a new boss. Got a new job. Visited the psych unit. Despatched a 
team of twelve Agents to gather further information or look at 
other angles on the case.   And it wasn't even 9 O'Clock. 

It sounded impressive, anyone would think it was an advert for the 
productivity advantages of sleep. It didn't feel impressive. Three 
weeks found meant three weeks lost and of course he only had other 
people's words for the bits he was supposed to have found. Getting 
off a murder charge just meant that someone was trying to frame him 
and he had no way of knowing how many other tricks they had up 
their sleeves. And sending a dozen people out looking for new leads 
on the case just meant that there were three kids missing and two 
people dead.

He felt the presence at his side before he heard it. "So Mulder, 
new broom sweeps clean?"

Mulder looked back apologetically. "Just adding things. I didn't 
drop any of the lines of enquiry you were pursuing did I?"

Richard Carr arched his eyebrows. "No. I even recognised some of 
them."

"Do you think I'm wasting their time?"

Carr studied him carefully. "What do you mean?"

"Side tracking them, sending them on wild goose chases."

"Ah, that's what I thought."

"Pardon?"

" 'Do you think I'm wasting their time.' It was a rhetorical 
question. I just thought there might be more to it than that."

"It wasn't rhetorical."

"Sure it was. The actions were spot on. You know that. You just 
make the rest of us feel like dummies for missing them. But then 
that's why you're spooky isn't it?"

Mulder flinched. "Sometimes it's easier for someone who's not 
closely involved in the case to see things."

"Not involved? Right. You were up to your ears in it as soon as you 
picked up the file. When I came downstairs to talk to you I thought 
you were going to drown in it. You even had an appointment lined up 
with the shrinks."

"I don't need a pep talk."

"No." Carr paused. "But you do look like you need breakfast."

Mulder looked at Carr. What the hell was happening here? He'd 
expected hostility or at least passive obstruction from Carr but 
there had been none. Some hurt feelings openly admitted but only 
encouragement. Carr was going to help him? It didn't seem possible.

They sat at the table in the staff cafeteria. It was a place Mulder 
often avoided when he was alone. Even when he was with Scully he 
sometimes felt uncomfortable there. But sitting, talking to Carr, 
dividing up the responsibilities for the investigation between them 
seemed like the most natural thing in the world.

A man watched them carefully from a nearby table. This was not 
supposed to be happening. Mulder was not supposed to be sat 
drinking coffee, tucking into a second danish, talking animatedly 
with Carr. Mulder was supposed to be sitting on his own, sullenly 
picking over pictures of missing children. Carr was supposed to be 
poisoning the water between Mulder and the team of Agents and 
undermining what little authority the bureau's ex-golden boy 
managed to rustle up. He winced, his boss was not going to be happy 
about this. Things were not going to plan.

--------------------

AD Masters sat at his desk wading through the files trying to get 
to grips with the problems of his office. His thoughts kept 
drifting to a kidnap and murder case and politically sensitive 
victims. And an Agent with a reputation for getting into trouble, a 
set of beliefs about the world that could at best be described as 
eccentric and who looked as if he was about to collapse. Asked to 
select a man for a job he could scarcely think of a worse match. It 
hadn't even freed Carr to work elsewhere. Why Carr was displaced 
needed a lot of explaining. Why Mulder had to put up with 
potentially an alternative chain of command running through Carr 
was pretty much inexplicable. But Masters had his orders. Orders 
that were about to change.

The phone rang. Masters instinctively snapped to attention as he 
heard the voice on the line.

"Yes, Sir. Of course I'd prefer it if Carr was leading another 
investigation. But you said he was to stay with Mulder...... No, 
Sir. Understood. You believe Mulder's now up to the job without 
Carr's help........ Of course, Sir. Immediately."

As Masters hung up the phone he wasn't sure if he felt better or 
worse. He didn't like the amount of attention the case and Mulder 
were getting. He was starting to wonder if perhaps Mulder's 
reputation for paranoia might have something to do with people 
actually being out to get him. No wonder Skinner was quite so 
defensive about the record of the X-Files Agent.

He issued the new orders.

--------------

Back to listening to the silence and looking through the dark 
shadows of the basement office, Mulder tried to concentrate. 

He had known that it was too good to be true. Things had just gone 
too smoothly with Carr. Inevitable though, Carr was too valuable a 
resource when 'VCS were going through a staffing crisis'. Still it 
had been fun while it lasted. For a few minutes he'd thought he was 
going to get through this ok. Even without Dana Scully. Now he'd 
been sent right back to the start again. On his own. Maybe Masters 
had been right, maybe he would have gone to Skinner to talk about 
this. But now there was no Skinner, no Scully and even that 
unexpected ally, Richard Carr was about to ship out to New York on 
another case. 

< Stop now.> One day at a time. He had obligations to carry out. He 
gathered the files he wanted and headed out to talk to the DC 
police team who had investigated the first kidnap and what had 
turned out to be the first killing.

----------------------

As with so many things it was a question of emphasis. A question of 
who to tell and how to phrase it. So it was now with this latest 
replan. Not a problem. An opportunity. Carr had done everything 
right, said nothing to the team of Agents that suggested anything 
less than a hundred percent support for Mulder. Carr had even sat 
and talked the case over with Mulder away from the glare of other 
Agents. Carr had played it cool, kept it professional.

Mulder wasn't a team player. Despite Carr's best efforts to help, 
Mulder had still objected to any questioning of his ideas or his 
authority and he'd got Carr thrown off the case.

Carr denied it, he said it didn't ring true to him that Mulder 
would ask for him to be removed. But then you would expect Carr to 
deny it, Carr was a good man. Loyal, even to people who didn't 
deserve loyalty. 

The rumour mill hummed. By the time Agents started to drift away 
for the weekend everyone knew that Mulder had got into some bust up 
with Carr and demanded that Carr be removed. Mulder had even got 
Carr sent on a case out of town. 

---------------

SATURDAY

Mulder sat in the comfortable armchair and talked to the parents of 
the first victims. The room was perfect, too perfect to be lived 
in. He'd been in rooms like this before. Some people faced with the 
horror shut down and ignored the mess and clutter that inevitably 
piled up around them. Others, like these, found themselves rushing, 
fussing over every detail however trivial, making the world look 
shiny again. It looked different but it was the same however it 
looked.

They were hostile at his arrival. That was to be expected. Another 
stranger come with another set of reminders and the same stupid 
questions. It took time before they'd got enough of their 
frustration out of the way so that they were able to talk to him.

Mrs Grant had broken ranks first. She looked at Mulder, her eyes 
full of accusations. "You accused my son of doing this. He would 
never hurt her. He loved her."

Mulder nodded, quiet, no attempt to defend himself when she branded 
him as one of the accusers. He let her work it out.

She rushed out more words. "Then they found him dead. So they 
accused us instead. Except they never just came out and said it. 
But you could tell, in the questions, in the looks."

Mulder considered her words. Of course, the investigation team were 
working from first principles. An apparently motiveless crime, look 
for a motive. And motives were more likely to be in the hands of 
the people closest to the victim. The boy had been found dead but 
unmolested. Still no motive.

She stared at him, her eyes glistening with tears of sorrow and 
anger. "I don't think they even looked for someone until the second 
little girl went missing."

Mulder replied, a soft lilt in his voice. "No. I know they were 
looking. I've spoken to the police officers, I've seen the work 
they did. It's just very difficult when you don't know where to 
look."

Mr Grant nodded and stroked his wife's hand. The room was silent 
for a few minutes.

Mulder spoke again. "If you can. I need to talk to you about your 
children. It would help me a lot."

Richard Grant sat up straighter in his chair and found some words. 
"Do you think she could still be alive?"

Mulder felt a cold shudder run along his spine, the question was an 
obvious one, but not one he wanted to answer. His voice dropped to 
little above a whisper. "I don't know. But I think I need you to 
help me to find her."

They talked about their children and their children's friends, 
their hobbies. A reality that had disappeared almost three months 
ago.

Mulder walked slowly back to his car and loaded himself in. As he 
slammed the car door, his defences collapsed. Heart beating as if 
he'd done a marathon. Hands shaking too much even to grip the key, 
certainly no way for the key to find the ignition. It was as if 
he'd been holding his breath for an hour and he finally had 
permission to breathe again. He waited until he could drive.

He spent only a minute in his apartment, just enough time to 
change. He went out running. Ran, until he couldn't run. Had to get 
a taxi home. Couldn't believe that he'd been so stupid as to go out 
running when he hadn't eaten all day. Couldn't believe that he'd 
been so stupid that he'd just run away from home instead of staying 
close, just doing laps of the block or something. Showered and went 
to sleep.

-------------------

Sunday was a day of rest. But if there was one thing Mulder was 
sure of, it was that the family of the latest victims would not be 
resting. Senator Catherine Dalton, whose only child, Caroline, had 
been missing for over three weeks. The child's nanny had been taken 
at the same time and she had now been found dead. The Dalton family 
would not be resting.

He rang the bell, a secretary opened the door, surveyed his ID 
carefully and invited him in. Senator Dalton's look was even more 
cautious, but it softened as she spoke. "So you're Mulder. Not 
quite what I imagined."

Mulder felt like the bug under the magnifying glass.

She continued to study him "Don't look so alarmed. Stereotypes, you 
know. I thought the tall, young ones in the designer suits only 
appeared in the recruitment posters. I'd have written you off as 
window dressing if Mathesson hadn't told me that you are the best."

Mulder shuffled nervously.

"It's ok Agent Mulder I know the score. I know you can't do 
miracles. If Caroline's dead," her voice caught, but she forced 
herself on, "you won't be able to bring her home. But I know you'll 
try and that's all I can ask."

And that was all he could promise to do.

They talked.

They looked at the rooms where Caroline had played. Mulder thought 
he could hear voices.

When he got back to his apartment he slumped onto the coach and 
turned the sound up high enough on the TV to drown the screams in 
his head.

He woke and could hear his own voice, it threw him for a few 
seconds until he realised it was the answering machine. Then he 
heard her voice. They'd been swapping messages since Thursday. She 
didn't have his new cellular number. He'd either been out, asleep 
or ignoring the phone whenever she'd tried to call him before. He'd 
carefully timed his return phone calls to make sure that she would 
be out when he called. But he couldn't avoid her forever. He picked 
up the handset. "I'm here."

Dana Scully's clear tones contained some relief as she spoke. "At 
last. How are you? I was starting to think you were avoiding me."

"You know, you're going to need help for that paranoia."

"Ha. So what's happening? How are you doing? Tell me about this big 
case they insisted you had to lead."

"Kidnap and murder, par for the VCS course."

She sighed, he'd said it so casually. She carried on. "Why is it a 
Bureau case?"

"It wasn't, until the second one. It's the victims' families, 
government employees, you know, political."

"Who's on the team?"

"There's only a couple of them that you would know."

Her voice heated up a degree or two. "Only a couple I'd know. How 
many of them are there?"

"Twelve."

"Wow. You have gone up in the world. You used to be lucky to get 
one Agent helping you."

"I'd still feel lucky if I had one Agent helping me. If it was the 
right one."

She paused, was that a compliment creeping out?

She nagged him for more details. He told her what he could in 
sketchy and impersonal outline.

She continued to press.

He mumbled something about having to go now, someone delivering 
food at his door. He put the phone down. Closed his eyes and buried 
his face in the cushions.



END of Part 4
===========


From jhumby@ctv.es Wed Oct 30 04:33:10 1996
NEW: The Insurance Policy - 5/11 - by Joann Humby
jhumby@iee.org

Legally:
The interesting characters in this story belong to Chris Carter, 
1013 and Fox as brought to life by DD, GA and the XFiles writers. 
I've borrowed them for fun not profit.

Part 5

MONDAY

Mulder looked at the assembled group of Agents. He could feel the 
chill coming from them. Fine. It didn't matter. He was grateful for 
his years of training in Patterson's school of man management. 
Skinner's approach was charm school material compared to that. He 
didn't need their friendship or their respect, just their work. < 
Just don't think of them as people, just look at them as report 
writing robots. > Who cares whether a robot likes you or not. 

They swapped notes from Friday's work. Mulder stayed silent, 
sitting on a desk, feet resting on a chair, arms resting on his 
knees. 

Only one of Friday's actions had turned up anything genuinely new 
that was striking to Mulder. The first two of the victims' 
households had received phone calls on the day of the 
disappearances from the same number and that number was a payphone. 
He thought about it.

He sat up, suddenly startled by the silence and realised that they 
were looking at him, waiting for him to say something. He cleared 
his throat and walked to the white board. They stared. Mulder 
scribbled up some notes on the board and leant heavily against the 
wall.

He started to talk. "It's my opinion that the target of the 
kidnapper is the young girls."

A mutter, 'yeah, takes a genius to spot that.'

Mulder ignored it. "However in two of our cases we have a second 
victim, an older brother, a young woman nanny. I think this is 
significant, I don't think it's just that these secondary victims 
were in the wrong place at the wrong time. It's significant that 
our second case, the only one where the child was taken on her own, 
concerns the disappearance of the oldest of the girls, a twelve 
year old. I would guess that she was allowed to leave home alone 
during the day. The other two targets were too young so they had to 
be accompanied.

'Didn't think aliens needed them to walk out, don't they just float 
away.' Muttered, but still said loud enough to be heard over the 
mumbles of the group.

Mulder tensed, but reset his muscles almost as quickly and 
responded smoothly. "The case does not fit the alien abduction 
profile in many ways, that's only one of them."

Mulder felt himself shrink under the hostile glares, blocked the 
response. Looked carefully back at the group, a wry smile. "Why? 
Fancy a night UFO watching?"

One or two of the faces reacted, smiled faintly at the soft humour.

Mulder's voice became all business again. "Questions, comments, 
before we move onto the plans?

"Why has Carr been removed from the case?"

Mulder was grateful that it had been said out loud. "Agent Carr was 
needed to head up another investigation."

"So why didn't they put you on that case?"

"Don't know. I don't schedule VCS assignments. I don't even 
normally work for VCS."

---------------

One way or another the day was eaten away. One meeting after 
another, no time to think. Better that way, no time to panic. A lot 
easier to play the cool professional in a crowd than alone. 

The meeting with AD Masters reminded him just how fragile that 
professional facade had become. The review of the evidence and the 
activities went smoothly enough. Masters was comfortable with the 
progress and the approach. It was when they started to draw the 
discussion to a close that things became difficult.

"Agent Mulder. Is the loss of Carr from the team going to damage 
the investigation?"

Mulder responded promptly. "Of course, Carr was good to work with."

"That's not quite what I meant. Are you going to be able to cope?"

"I always cope." Mulder said without hesitation.

Masters sat and stared. "I've been reading your files. You've an 
unusual history."

"Chequered, so people tell me."

"This case involves the abduction of children. Does that give you 
difficulties?"

"I would hope that it gives any Agent difficulties."

Masters frowned, he didn't like the evasion. He decided on a direct 
approach. "Don't bluff me. Do you associate the case with your 
experience from your sister's disappearance?"

"I don't think the cases are related."

"And the fact that an elder brother was accused in the first case?"

"Was unfortunate, the boy died."

Masters leant back, the discussion was going nowhere. "I'm not 
trying to get to you Mulder. I just don't want to put you under 
intolerable pressure. Especially if you are not fit."

< There it was again, an escape clause, admit you can't cope and 
you're home free. Home free and pensioned out. And three little 
girls still missing. And two people dead. And no one on the list of 
suspects. > Mulder's voice held no emotion. "There's no problem. Is 
that all?"

Masters nodded and watched Mulder leave, the Agent slamming the 
door behind himself as he went.

Mulder saw the group of other Agents waiting for the elevators and 
ducked away to the stairs, kept it all together as he ran down the 
first few flights. Sat down exhausted when he realised he couldn't 
breathe right. Looked at the steps leading down and away from him. 
Giddy. Could just rock forward and roll away, bounce down. And with 
any luck not wake up.

A few minutes sitting, waiting, then the weight started to lift. 
Concentrated. Made his way safely to the basement and refuge.

The appointment with the therapist was tense, defensive. Mulder 
didn't let his guard drop. Strictly the facts. The safe, solid 
ground.

Went home early and was asleep before he'd finished the first cup 
of coffee.

----------

Mulder rolled over and looked at the clock. What was happening to 
him? It was past 8 in the morning and he'd fallen asleep at 7 the 
night before. It made no sense. He'd read about cases like this, 
people reacting to stress by sleeping, but it had never been his 
reaction. He decided to forget about it, give himself a few more 
days. Maybe he really was just topping up the sleep bank, maybe it 
was a good thing. After all what could he do about it? Go to see 
the Doctor? Asking for sleeping pills was one thing, even FBI 
Agents needed to sleep. But asking for what? Uppers? Sounded like a 
good reason to be pulled off duty.

---------

Mulder was leaning against the vending machine staring at the cup 
of coffee.

"Agent Mulder." A familiar voice cut through the silence.

Mulder straightened up sharply, spilling coffee in the process, an 
embarrassed smile as he turned to face his boss.

Skinner tried to make a joke of it. "So maybe absence does make the 
heart grow fonder."

Mulder bounced it back. "Only three days working for AD Masters and 
I've learned to jump to attention."

"Are you ok?"

"Of course Sir." Dark eyes, narrowing as he spoke.

Skinner nodded and said goodbye, aware that he wasn't going to be 
allowed to ask any more questions.

--------------
AD MASTERS' OFFICE

"Morning Michael."

Masters was pleased to see his old friend, the usual resident of 
the office, Walter Skinner arrive at his door. "Walt. Couldn't bear 
to stay away? I'm surprised the Director has allowed you out of his 
sight."

"I told him I was going for a donut. He liked that idea, reckoned 
it meant I was still in touch with life in the field."

Masters smiled comfortably. "So what brings you visiting? You don't 
look like a man on a social call."

"Agent Mulder."

Masters nodded, his smile faded. "Ah, I understand."

"How's he doing?"

"The work's exceptional. The ideas, the insight."

"But?"

Masters took a deep breath. "He looks like he's walking a 
tightrope."

"Did he get into a dispute with Carr?"

"No." Masters stared back. "Is that the rumour? No wonder he's 
getting the cold shoulder from the team. No. Carr got pulled, I'd 
wanted to do it at the start, but got told not to. Then they 
settled in and started working together straight away so I thought 
things were looking good. Then I got told to redeploy Carr." 
Masters paused. "I know you said things got political with Mulder, 
I hadn't realised how close an interest they take in him."

Skinner nodded. Lucky he'd been able to get Masters brought in 
here. If it had been someone else, he doubted he'd be having this 
discussion.

Masters watched Skinner. Obviously some things weren't discussed in 
the office. Masters hedged his words. "How good a tightrope walker 
is Mulder?"

"Exceptional. Unless he gets distracted. "

"I told him to go to psych services. Will it help?"

"I doubt it'll make any difference to him, but there is such a 
thing as covering your ass."

Masters smiled. "I try."

-----------------

Twelve Agents could cover a lot of ground. The information was 
coming in thick and fast. Mulder had slipped into the role of Agent 
in Charge without any apparent concerns. He was tied to the office, 
forced to wait for other people's phone calls, read other people's 
reports, making plans for other people. But it didn't seem to be 
bothering him.

He looked drained, but that wasn't surprising. It was a nasty case. 
They all knew that until the girls' bodies were found there was 
just a tiny, outside chance that one or more them might still be 
alive. They all knew that the perpetrator was still out there, so 
another incident could happen at any moment. They all knew that the 
political and media attention had given the case a frighteningly 
high profile in Washington. They all knew that Mulder was famously 
obsessive when he was on a chase. None of them were surprised that 
Mulder might be working through the night.

The Agents on the team had stepped past the bitchy stage. They 
might not be able to visualise going out for a drink with the man 
but they had started to accept his professionalism. He listened, he 
understood, he delegated, he ordered, he incorporated their ideas. 
He was definitely in charge. And for all the professed doubts and 
dislikes of the other Agents, not one of them would have wanted to 
take over the case.

Even the remarks from the other members of VCS had ground to a 
halt. At least while Mulder was around. The cold look in his eyes 
and his lack of reaction to the jibes made him an unrewarding 
target.

-------------

Mulder looked nervously at his watch. It was four in the afternoon 
and he was desperate for sleep. He sighed, twelve hours sleep last 
night and it still wasn't enough. He could go home, should go home. 
Masters wouldn't complain. The Agents on the team wouldn't think 
any less of him than they already did. The rest of VCS would be 
glad to see the back of him. But he had already scheduled himself 
to meet a couple of the Agents at around six and he didn't want to 
cancel.

He knew this wasn't about going home early and getting some sleep. 
If it was just that, he would have left. Working for the Bureau had 
given him a healthy disregard for standard working hours. He knew 
that the going home early question was a metaphor for something 
more profound. The real question was whether or not he was fit to 
continue the case. They were making progress. He had no doubt about 
that. But they still had no trace of the missing girls and no 
suspects. Masters kept offering outs, telling him what a wonderful 
job he was doing, then suggesting that he should visit the Doctor. 

The shadow boxing with the employee support people had continued. 
There was no need for them to know about the panic attacks or those 
strange sensations, those intense flashes of pictures, words and 
stories that kept arriving in his brain. After all they were little 
different in principle to the normal leaps his mind made when he 
was working well. Except he didn't believe he was working well.

He tried to think. If Skinner was in the AD's office Mulder might 
have been tempted by now to ask him about the sleep therapist he'd 
been to see. Maybe someone like that could help. Insomnia was one 
thing, a sleeping pill a quick fix if it became impossible to 
function because of it. Nightmares and night terrors were known 
territory, just the brain's way of unravelling some of the knots it 
had tied itself in. But sleeping so much more than normal and still 
waking up tired. That was new ground, it sounded specialised.

He could just go and see Skinner. After all Skinner had only moved 
office, not out of the country. But that would be admitting 
something was wrong, badly wrong. He'd get pulled off the case. 
Maybe even told to take some medical leave. And then he'd be 
letting down those little girls and the dead. And if he didn't have 
this case to brood over then he might have to think again about 
those six weeks he'd lost. And he couldn't expect Masters to back 
him up by letting him treat that as an official investigation. 

He would have to try to bump into Skinner. Something like that.

He felt something on the back of his hand and opened his eyes, 
sitting up sharply. Agent Susan Keane was squatting by his side, 
one hand placed lightly on his shoulder the other brushing over his 
fingers as they rested on the desk. As he sprung back awake she 
moved away slightly, speaking in a low soothing voice. "Sorry. I 
didn't mean to startle you. It's just that we've had some more 
material come in on those requests you put out."

Mulder tried to get his brain to clear. It was still lying 
somewhere between asleep and awake. He felt her warm touch and 
winced slightly. She was touching him, no one touched him, not just 
a casual friendly touch like that. Maybe Scully,  but rarely and he 
hadn't touched her in six months, not since that brief, formal 
goodbye hug when he went off to work for the CIA. An avalanche of 
emotions came tearing through. He almost ran from the office.

He leant his forehead against the cold tiled wall of the washroom, 
bracing himself with his hands. He needed to get off this case. He 
needed to close this case. He needed to get his memories back. He 
needed to be sure that he'd done nothing wrong in those missing 
weeks. The tears fell, a lucky escape that, they'd needed to fall. 
If he'd delayed leaving the office as at first he thought he would 
be able to, as at first he had tried to, he would have broken down 
there.

It was a long time before he walked back into the office. Agent 
Susan Keane watched him as he tiptoed back to his desk. He felt her 
gaze and waved for her to join him. Mulder tried not to stare as 
the tall, black haired young Agent came towards him. "I'm sorry 
about that. I'm not feeling too good. I think I need to try and get 
an early night. What were those answers you got?"

Her voice was still silky and low as she gave him the information. 
He thought about her words. But mostly he thought about her voice 
and how nice it was to listen to. And her dark brown eyes and her 
black hair and her slender body. And how lightly her fingers had 
rested on him. How natural and reassuring it felt to be touched. It 
wasn't a cure for loneliness, he knew better than that, but it was 
a cure for being alone for a while.

He snapped himself out of it. What on earth was he thinking of. A 
fellow Agent, one he was working with on a case? Worse than that, 
one of his subordinates on this case. Not just a breech of protocol 
but a potential abuse of power.

He felt disgusted with himself. She'd woken him up, tried to do it 
as gently as she could so as not to attract attention. So he was 
going to respond to it as if she'd made a pass at him. Since when 
had he been that pathetic? Since when did he treat women Agents as 
if they were bedroom fodder. He didn't. He sobered himself up.

Susan Keane sighed with annoyance. She'd always studied Fox Mulder. 
>From afar of course. She'd wanted that job partnering Mulder when 
Scully was reassigned. They'd given it to Krycek. More fool them. 
She'd smiled at his jokes all week, she'd been preparing him. He 
felt confident of her. He was attracted to her. His eyes had that 
look, she'd seen it immediately. 

Her timing had been impeccable when she'd brushed her fingers 
against Mulder's tired body. And when he returned and called her 
over, she'd felt that warm appraisal again. She would have bet 
money that he was going to follow through. But no, he'd suddenly 
switched the look off as if it was a tap. All business. Well, she 
had business to do too.

Fox Mulder looked at the case notes again and at the latest crop of 
reports, mentally cross referencing the data. The strongest match 
yet, by a mile. The nanny was a  karate black belt. The second 
little girl to go missing was a blue belt. The dead brother from 
the first family was a brown belt. They didn't share clubs in 
common but the clubs the children went to did share some 
instructors and one of their occasional teachers was the Senator's 
nanny.

Mulder grabbed the videos that Susan Keane had brought him. They'd 
already been reviewed once without anything being spotted. They 
contained the home movie footage taken of the nanny's last 
competition appearance. It was dated July fifteen, just a couple of 
days before her disappearance. He started to head to the door. 
Agent Keane touched his hand, "why don't you let me drive you home. 
You look really tired. We can review the videos over some food."

Mulder tried to think of something to say. He decided to tell the 
truth. "To be honest I think I'll fall asleep as soon as I walk 
through the front door. I'll watch the tapes once I've rested. 
Thanks for the offer though."

"Another time."

He nodded nervously.

Keane stood in the doorway, kicked at the carpet with frustration. 
He'd gone off with the tapes on his own. Damn it. She was meant to 
be with him when he watched them. There were copies carefully 
locked away of course but Mulder wasn't to know that. She was 
supposed to help him hide the evidence. Damn it. Now what was she 
going to do?


END of Part 5
==============


From jhumby@ctv.es Wed Oct 30 04:33:13 1996
NEW: The Insurance Policy - 6/11 - by Joann Humby
jhumby@iee.org

Legally:
The interesting characters in this story belong to Chris Carter, 
1013 and Fox as brought to life by DD, GA and the XFiles writers. 
I've borrowed them for fun not profit.

Part 6

Dana Scully sighed and tried to rub the sleep from her eyes. She 
really shouldn't have stayed up so late last night. Since Mulder 
returned to Washington she'd tried to carry on the investigation 
into his disappearance. But it was difficult, she had other 
responsibilities and he was needed as a door opener with people 
like the CIA.

The investigation into the death of the security guard had pretty 
much gone cold. That was why she'd ended up bringing a stack of 
security videos from the research lab home with her the evening 
before. After all, they had Mulder somewhere in the facility during 
part of those missing days so there ought to be something more on 
one of the video films. No matter how professional the people  
who'd set up and planted the fake video evidence had been they had 
to have left something behind, somewhere else in those miles of 
video from the dozens of cameras around the Lab.

They'd found the gun that killed the guard. Wiped clean, no 
surprise there. A standard enough model, on the approved list for 
the FBI, CIA, NSA. Scully found herself idly running through all 
those other sets of initials, almost shuddering a smile as she hit 
MIB's.

Her temporary role in the Miami office was coming to an end. The 
head of department would return from maternity leave in three weeks 
time. A lot of informal overtures had been made. The Florida office 
would find her a good job. But she'd already told them that she 
wanted to return to Washington, to family and friends.

It would be difficult to return to the X-Files. Her regrading was 
permanent even though the job in Florida wasn't. That would mean 
that both the X-Files Agents would appear to be hopelessly 
overqualified for their duties. Even Skinner would have trouble 
defending that kind of arrangement and maybe Skinner wouldn't be 
responsible for the department any more.

The rumours said that AD Skinner  might just be staying a little 
closer to his Director from now on. All Assistant Directors were 
created equal but there was no denying that some were more equal 
than others. It looked as if Skinner might be promoted to that 
happy status where he didn't have to manage anything so mundane as 
people or take decisions on anything so simple as criminal cases. 
Soon he could manage budgets and efficiency targets and ignore the 
people and actions that they comprised.

She was worried about Mulder. She wanted to talk to him. She 
couldn't claim he was avoiding her, not really. He returned her 
calls but usually at the wrong time. He spoke to her when she 
caught up with him but not for long, the next meeting always 
intervening. It was difficult though. She had missed him, all those 
months. Then when he failed to return from the CIA job she'd almost 
broken down, just that one email from him saying he'd be back soon. 
That and her work had kept her together. When they finally met 
again she was accusing him of murder. Not how she'd 'fantasised 
about their reunion' either.

If she was back in Washington. Even assigned to some other 
department they'd talk, they'd work together. They'd worked 
together even when the X-Files were closed down. She sighed and 
pulled on her clothes.

--------

Mulder woke because the clock told him to. Showered and dressed 
because the auto pilot in his head knew the routine. Walked out to 
the car and got into the driver's seat. He couldn't afford to have 
this go on much longer. The victims deserved better than this, his 
colleagues deserved better than this.

No suspects. No clue to where the girls had been taken. No sign 
that they were still alive. Not even a sign that they were dead. 
And the Agent In Charge was sleeping his way through the case.

Mulder sat across the desk from Acting Assistant Director Masters. 
Masters listened patiently to the briefing Mulder had prepared. A 
long list of tasks not completed, information not yet gathered, 
blind alleys examined and regretted. Masters felt like laughing but 
wasn't sure how Mulder would take the reaction. 

Masters studied the Agent carefully. "Well Agent Mulder. I've got 
to say I admire the candour. I think that's the most thorough 
demolition job I've heard in a long time. You sure you don't want 
to move into management? I suspect your staff reviews would be 
something else."

Mulder stared back. "I wanted you to have the facts."

"The facts are that you have made more headway this week than the 
team have made in the last month. I don't think you've put a foot 
wrong with the investigation or with the information you've fed to 
the families or the press. So was that all this was about, were you 
just fishing for compliments? Because I'm happy to oblige."

Mulder's hand drifted momentarily to his face as if pushing an 
imaginary wisp of hair from his eyes. "You think I should carry on 
with the case?"

"Not if you're having problems because of it. But if you are asking 
me if I think you are up to the job then I can't think of anyone 
better. Are you having problems?"

Mulder hesitated. No, he didn't have problems. The victims and 
their families had problems. He just had responsibilities that he 
was trying to abandon, but Masters had straightened him out. "No, 
Sir. No problem."

Masters sighed. "Fine. Don't work this weekend. Don't come into the 
office. Don't visit the families. Don't take a stack of files home. 
Sleep. Come back recharged on Monday."

Mulder shrugged, as if he needed to be ordered to sleep.

Masters leant back in his chair. "That's an order Mulder."

Mulder nodded nervously in reply. "Yes, Sir."

Mulder left the office and tried to clear his head. He would give 
it the weekend. He'd try and rest. And if he wasn't over it by 
Monday morning he'd see someone. Maybe talk to Skinner about that 
sleep specialist. Maybe talk to Scully. Something.

-----------

AD Walter Skinner bought Acting AD Michael Masters a beer. They 
discussed their troubled Agent, their problem case and the external 
influences that meant that even AD's couldn't do what they wanted.

Masters let out a gasp of exasperation. "You know Mulder's got a 
real downer on himself over the case. And he looks like he's not 
slept in a month. Yet he's telling me he's not putting the hours 
in. Ludicrous. The work's impeccable. I used to wonder why you were 
so soft on him. You know I'd seen the amount of trouble he gets in 
and the way you just kept bailing him out."

Skinner thought about how Mulder had looked when he last spoke to 
him. Thought about the reports that had come in through the VCS and 
(though Skinner hated to think about it) the media relations team. 
Mulder was different on this case. Someone who didn't know him 
would probably think it represented a change for the better. He was 
polite and courteous. The work was conscientiously done and well 
presented. No wild theories to contaminate the professional polish. 
Yet, it was as if all the life had drained away from him.

Skinner nodded apologetically. "Mulder's always got a downer on 
himself and he never sleeps. I was worried he might be acting out 
of character but that sounds like him."

"Good Agent."

"Very good."

Masters spoke with some discomfort and a lot of frustration. "I 
can't take him off the case and I've been told not to put anyone on 
it with him to help. The only out is if he'll take medical leave."

"He won't. I'm trying to set something up that might help."

Masters returned to his drink.

Walter Skinner had an opportunity from his role in the Director's 
office to influence a certain appointment back at Quantico. A perk 
of the job and there were so few of those that it seemed silly to 
miss one.

Dana Scully was needed back in Washington to supervise the 
pathology team and organise a conference on the latest procedures 
and methodologies. She would have to come back next week. It was 
urgent. The Director's office said so.

----------------

Mulder made it through the day. More of the story was emerging. 
Things were pointing towards the same conclusion. The mystery phone 
calls to the first two victims' homes had been made to set up the 
abductions. No odd phone call to the third home, maybe the nanny 
had been contacted some other way. They kept working on the common 
link. The nanny who was a karate instructor.

By late afternoon Mulder was trying to think about Masters' advice. 
No, the word used had not been advice, it had been an order. Take 
the weekend off. Really. Completely. It was ok. Up to a point. But 
he still hadn't watched those videos that Agent Keane had given him 
the evening before. That was the minimum he could do. He grabbed 
some files and picked up the reports that had been handed in on 
Friday and headed home.

--------------------

SATURDAY MORNING - MULDER'S APARTMENT

Mulder jumped at the sound of the phone. A lot of things were 
making him jumpy at the moment. It really felt as if he was getting 
too little sleep, but that was ludicrous, he never got this amount 
of sleep. It was something else, just too many thoughts in his 
head, just concentrate on one thing at a time. The first job was to 
answer the phone.

Someone on their way over delivering more information, just 
checking that he was home.

He sighed. Inevitable really. He'd asked them to get anything new 
to him and by now they knew that meant anything, not just anything 
special. His idea of what was special was so different to theirs 
they had given up discriminating. Fine.

Agent Susan Keane knocked on the door. He tried not to react when 
he saw her. He wanted to say thanks and send her away. But somehow 
she had persuaded him that she should give him the edited 
highlights of the new data and a quick tour of the information so 
he wouldn't waste any time finding things.

A perfectly sensible suggestion. A perfectly professional action. 
He invited her in and brought her a cup of coffee. She started to 
thumb through the files pointing out the headings, explaining the 
links.

His eyes drifted to her fingers then to her face. She had such a 
nice voice. He wished that she would stop smiling at him. It felt 
like such a long time. The CIA work had even ruled out one night 
stands, his cover story had him happily married and in any case it 
would have been too risky. And he was so tired. And if someone was 
with him maybe with the sleep would come some rest.

He pushed himself back in the chair, sat a little more upright. 
Pulled himself together. What on earth had got into him. She was 
friendly, or perhaps just polite. A woman in the boy's club, a 
difficult enough role without someone who ought to know better, who 
did know better, taking her good manners as a come on.

And if she looked at him like that again he was going to cry. He 
was going to break down in tears. Tell her that he was screwing up 
the case and yet couldn't admit that he wasn't up to the job. Tell 
her that he'd probably done something terrible while he was missing 
and that he didn't even know what it was. Tell her that even 
Scully, who was the only person he trusted and the only person who 
believed in him, thought that he'd done something terrible. Beg her 
to stay and just let him hold her for a few minutes. Maybe she 
could just let her fingertips rest on his hand for a while. He 
shivered, but he knew that it wasn't with cold.

A soft voice. "Fox?"

Mulder tensed slightly, startled out of his daydream. He mumbled a 
response. "I prefer Mulder." It was force of habit, he would have 
been happy to hear her say his name again.

She surprised him by laughing softly. "Well I'd already tried 
Mulder and even Agent Mulder but I didn't seem to be getting a 
reaction so I thought I'd try shock tactics."

Mulder tried to sound relaxed. "Yeah, well I guess it's better than 
an ice cube down the neck. But not by much."

"So Agent Mulder, have you watched the videos yet?"

He smiled at the sudden formality. "No to be honest I haven't, I 
still seem to be catching up on lost sleep."

"I'm happy to offer another set of eyes. I could get started while 
you make breakfast. You've not had breakfast have you?" A pause. 
"You do make breakfast don't you?"

He stood momentarily stunned by the questions then got his balance 
back. "Ok, no and yes in that order. Can I fix you some food as 
well?"

"Yes please. I've always wanted to be waited on by the Special 
Agent In Charge on one of my cases."

"That's not what you'll say once you've tasted it."

The mushroom omelettes emerged a few minutes later. They tasted 
fine.

They turned their attention back to the stack of videos. It was all 
home movie footage taken from karate events that the nanny and the 
other victims had attended that month. It was an extremely long 
shot. First of all someone had to have filmed the victim and they 
had to have filmed them at the same time as the bad guy was there. 
That is, if it was a guy. And if there was some way of telling bad 
ones from good ones. A needle in a haystack. Keane smiled at him, 
"do you feel lucky?"

They waded through the first hour of tape on fast forward. Mulder 
enjoyed the company, it took his mind off some of the things he 
wanted to brood over. The only thing was that it was giving him 
some new things to worry about. He assured himself that he'd get 
over that as well. He almost had got over it until her fingers had 
met his on the VCR remote. He'd dropped the control as if it was 
red hot.

She looked at him and smiled. He'd smiled apologetically back.

The phone rang. Mulder jumped off the couch. Saved by the bell.

He picked up the handset. It was the call he didn't want to get. 
Another child had been abducted. Same pattern as before. Another 
comfortable, politically well connected family. And no witnesses to 
any break in.

------------------

Mulder stood in the well appointed hallway to the house and looked 
around. With a sickening thud he realised that he'd been missing 
the obvious. This kind of incident didn't happen to this kind of 
family. They were too high profile, too well connected for a random 
attacker to choose as targets. He'd been so careful to treat this 
as a conventional investigation that he had ignored the evidence. 
Nibbled around the edge of the case, looking at the orthodox links 
between the victims when the real link was something else.

The frustration welled up inside him. Why had he stayed on the case 
when he knew he wasn't up to the job? If they'd had someone else, 
someone half awake, someone not so preoccupied with his own 
problems running the show, this might not have happened. It 
wouldn't have happened.

Dizzy now. Going to vomit. 

No. Self indulgent. Stop now.

The family needed him calm, professional, not a gibbering wreck. 
They didn't need to see that even the Agent in Charge of the 
investigation had no hope, no clue. He'd see AD Masters on Monday. 
But today he'd focus on his job, on this family. 

He walked to the parents of the missing child and introduced 
himself. They talked. As he walked away they said thank you. He 
wanted to lock himself away somewhere quiet and dark and just hide. 
They didn't even know they had nothing to thank him for, everything 
to blame him for.

Mulder sat on one of the steps and listened to the information from 
the other Agents and from the scene of crime specialists. He left 
some further instructions and drove back to the office. So much for 
a weekend off. He hauled out the files. Started to review the 
routine questions again looking at the parents, their jobs, hobbies 
and friends. Looking for some thread that tied them together. But 
it wasn't there. The only link was that most casual one, they were 
successful in their chosen fields and had nice houses. 

Something more subtle then?

A dreadful, miserable thought. He got in the car and drove to the 
home of Senator Catherine Dalton.

Catherine Dalton studied him carefully, finding herself struck 
again at the poster boy appearance of the highly rated Fed. She 
looked at the haunted, tired eyes and thought she saw just a 
glimmer of the intensity and obsession that lay behind them. She 
sat him down and asked her secretary to arrange for some coffee. 
"So Agent Mulder. If you have no news, why are you here?"

He had carefully warned her that he had no new information on her 
daughter's whereabouts or condition as soon as he arrived. Careful 
not to raise too many hopes or prolong a new attack of fear.

Mulder looked at her and started to talk. He didn't really know how 
to start. This was the kind of interview that normally played out 
so well when he worked on it with Scully. She would get the ball 
rolling, he would move in to intercept it and deflect it when the 
moment seemed right. It took him a while to get to the point. 

"Senator Dalton. Were you abducted as a child?" When he finally 
said it, he winced in anticipation of the expected denial.

Instead she looked back at him and walked to the door to the room, 
closing it and returning to sit nearer to him. "It's not something 
I ever talk about. Wouldn't line up with my career. Difficult for 
my credibility." She gave him a knowing look. "But you seem to 
understand that."

"Why didn't you tell me this last time I interviewed you?"

"You were only here for a little while, I just thought you wanted a 
recap on what I'd told the other Agents. You didn't ask. It's not 
normally mentioned in polite society. It doesn't seem like the same 
thing has happened to my daughter."

"Didn't Senator Mathesson tell you that you should warn me about 
it?"

"Senator Mathesson? Why would he? He doesn't know."

Mulder leant back into the cushions of the chair and tried to make 
sense of it. They talked about the pattern of brief disappearances 
that had started when she was in her teens and that had continued 
until her early twenties. And how when her daughter had disappeared 
she had at first felt so confident that she would be returned soon 
and basically unharmed. And then how they found the nanny's dead 
body and the world had fallen apart. He thanked her for her time.

It took a long time but he got there. The mothers of the first 
three girls had all been reported missing in their own pasts but 
always returned within a few hours or at most a couple of days. 
Mostly there wouldn't even be official missing person reports.

The children of these women were in comfortable homes with security 
systems. To seize the children from their homes risked detection. 
Better to tempt them away and take them from some public place.

But why were the kids still missing? Second generation victims, 
maybe whatever the abductors had lined up for them needed time.

Why were there these dead bodies? Accidents perhaps or maybe even 
to break the pattern associated with alien abduction, or abduction 
for experimentation that he would have expected to recognise.

Why was he assigned to the case? That was the bit he didn't 
understand. If he didn't initially recognise the case for what it 
was, how would anyone else? But they had to know he'd piece it 
together eventually. It was as if the perpetrators wanted to be 
found out. Certainly his faith in coincidence, never strong at the 
best of times, gave him no faith in this just being some ironic 
pairing drawn out of the VCS hat.

Well if AD Masters had really thought he was doing a good job on 
the case it would be interesting to watch his reaction when he 
arrived on Monday. A web of conspiracy to explain. If Masters 
thought Mulder needed medical leave before, just wait until he 
heard this. 

If he closed his eyes, he could almost see the open mouthed looks 
of disbelief that he was going to get when he told his team about 
the new direction of the enquiry. He was going to live up to his 
reputation at last.

But first he needed to do some more research. Then he needed to do 
some planning. But first of all he needed to go to sleep. He looked 
at the clock, it was still only nine. He sighed, he had been trying 
so hard to stay up late.



END of Part 6


From jhumby@ctv.es Wed Oct 30 04:33:16 1996
NEW: The Insurance Policy - 7/11 - by Joann Humby
jhumby@iee.org

Legally:
The interesting characters in this story belong to Chris Carter, 
1013 and Fox as brought to life by DD, GA and the XFiles writers. 
I've borrowed them for fun not profit.


Part 7


SUNDAY

Mulder sat and half watched the home videos of the karate 
tournament. Filmed just a couple of days before the Senator's 
daughter and her nanny disappeared and only a week before the nanny 
died. He had a few photos of the nanny but wasn't even confident 
that he would recognise her on the screen. Unlikely to deliver 
anything, after all other Agents had already tried reviewing them, 
but maybe. He was thinking about the next set of actions, tasks, 
questions, making fresh plans for the suddenly transformed enquiry.

He stopped for an instant. Hadn't he planned to drop out of the 
case on Monday? Ok, he would talk to Masters about it and he would 
get some advice from Skinner. But it wasn't going to be easy to 
hand over the case now. Though he would still make the offer. When 
Masters heard about the latest line of investigation, Masters might 
even decide to take him up on it. Which would be ironic, given that 
he'd really only just started doing anything useful.

A phone call from Scully and a conversation, a real one, he didn't 
even try to hang up on her. Dana Scully sat at the other end of the 
line trying to ignore the memories his explanations of the way the 
case was heading were provoking. Instead she tried to concentrate 
on the sound of his voice, relieved to hear the enthusiasm and 
bounce that had returned to it.

Only as he put down the receiver did he realise how quiet she'd 
been. He cursed himself for letting his mouth get ahead of his 
brain. When had he become so callous and insensitive that he didn't 
know what he was saying and how much it could hurt her. If she was 
here now he'd apologise, go down on his knees and say he was sorry, 
put his arms around her. No. She wouldn't allow that. But he would 
want to and she would see it in his eyes and she would know that he 
was sorry.

He went out and ran until his body insisted it was time to go home.

--------------

MONDAY

Special Agent Susan Keane watched her boss. He was not happy. She 
hadn't expected him to be. It was really not her fault. She'd 
tried. Trying wasn't even tricky, even if it wasn't her job she 
would still have been tempted to try. No harm in mixing business 
with pleasure, after all there was seldom the opportunity. Might 
even have got somewhere if the timing of that phone call on 
Saturday hadn't been quite so precise.

Once Mulder had arrived at the victim's house, he'd been 
transformed. One hundred percent concentration. He hadn't ignored 
her exactly, just treated her as part of the investigative process, 
Agent Keane with a job to do. In other circumstances she might have 
been pleased, she had enough trouble getting treated with respect 
by these men, but this was the one time when she didn't just want 
professional distance.

The man across the table glared at her. "Nothing to say? How many 
more advantages do we have to give you?"

She said nothing.

The man continued. "Do you think he's in a relationship with Agent 
Scully?"

"No." She mumbled back nervously. "In fact I'm pretty sure the 
reason he isn't interested in me is because he's working with me 
and he would view it as inappropriate."

"Despite our help?"

"Yes Sir, I think it's too ingrained. That's why I doubt that he's 
involved with Dana Scully. That's probably how it became 
ingrained."

He agreed. She could be right. How many more things were going to 
go wrong on this job?

----------------


Acting Assistant Director Michael Masters surveyed the Agent sat on 
the other side of the table. He was looking for doubts, hesitation, 
a sign, anything.

Mulder looked back impassively. Mulder's body language said 
relaxed. The face said controlled. The tone of voice said 
professional. Mulder spoke first. "I do appreciate how this sounds 
and how significant the change of direction is since our meeting on 
Friday. But I have more data now. And in terms of the actions 
needed from the team, we're looking at changes in priorities and 
emphasis not throwing it all away and starting again."

Masters looked towards the light fitting on the ceiling. He'd 
thought it odd when Mulder had asked for their meeting to be moved 
to the start of the day, so that they could talk before he briefed 
the team on the weekend's work. Masters hadn't seen this coming 
though.

Mulder waited.

Masters finally responded. "Are you taking any drugs?"

Mulder sat up, startled for an instant, then started to laugh. 
Shook the laugh back. "That's great. Not many people would just 
come out and say it Sir."

Masters smiled sadly back. "Not even sleeping pills?"

"No."

"And you did get some sleep at the weekend? Despite working all day 
Saturday with the victims' families. And working all day Sunday 
revising the briefing."

"Yes, Sir." Mulder said, confident in his honesty.

Masters sighed. "Ok. You got it. You were spot on with the actions 
last week. I understand where you are coming from with the 
revisions. I don't feel I can overrule you on this, despite what 
common sense is telling me. I'll back you up."

Mulder leant back. "Thank you Sir." He paused. "I'm still not 
running at a hundred percent. You should know that."

Masters nodded. "I've said right the way through, that if the case 
got too hard for you, you were to drop out, take medical leave. But 
your eighty percent or whatever it is I'm getting is more than I 
could expect from anyone else. Take care of yourself though."

-------------

Dana Scully was pleased to hear the familiar voice at the other end 
of the phone line. AD Skinner had some surprising news to convey. A 
recall to Washington, effective immediately. Back to Quantico, at 
least for a while.

She was relieved to hear it. She'd worried more about Mulder since 
he showed up two weeks ago than she had in all the time he was out 
of touch with her while he was working for the CIA. It was almost 
as bad as when he went missing. It wasn't the first time she'd 
worried about him like this but it was the first time when she'd 
felt like he was this close and yet she couldn't help him.

She gathered together the information she'd got on the death of the 
security guard and the lab he worked in. Copies of videos, files, 
mugshots of tall blond men with crew cuts. She would be back in DC 
on Wednesday. Something to look forward to.

------------

TUESDAY MORNING

Mulder sat in the dark of the apartment watching his own home video 
of the previous night, fast forward on VCR. He remembered Andy 
Warhol made a movie like this. No wonder it didn't make the best 
sellers list. 

Yesterday could have been worse. Masters had been stunned but 
supportive. The team had mumbled their way through the briefing but 
there had been little disagreement over the actions needed. The 
rest of VCS had perked up when they heard rumours that Mulder had 
decided to link the case to an international or possibly 
interplanetary conspiracy of quasi government organisations. Maybe 
there would be some fun after all. But Mulder still hadn't been 
interested in playing with them.

He just wished that he didn't feel quite so weak, quite so 
dangerously poised as if he was on a tightrope above a ravine.

If he looked down to the left, he saw the alligators. Snappy jaws 
waiting to close in. Six weeks missing memories. Three weeks when 
he did what? What? What did he do?

If he looked down to the right, he saw the dinosaurs, old and 
noisy. A lifetime ago. His mother crying. His sister's bedroom 
empty. His father's face a wall of hostility and silence.

Just keep your head up and look forward. Look forward to what? To 
finding the four dead bodies of the missing girls so they could put 
them with the bodies already in the morgue? Would that be success? 
How many people had to be found dead before the case was over.

And if he kept this up for much longer he wouldn't even make it to 
the end of the case. He'd just be full time sleeping. He'd set up 
video equipment the night before. The Agent and the Psychologist 
monitoring the patient through the night. It only confirmed what he 
already thought. No night terrors. No sleep walking. No nightmares. 
No dreams so far as he could tell. Just deep sleep. And waking up 
tired in the morning.

He thought about it. No dreams? Really? None at all? Well he hadn't 
watched the video that closely so perhaps there had been a few 
seconds, but nothing like enough.

If that was true then this was less like sleep and more like a 
coma. Dreams were important, the brain needed them. They were 
important psychologically, working through things that hadn't been 
resolved during the day. They were important physically, they 
affected brain chemistry. Could that really be what this was about?

Work on that later. Time do some real work now. The autopilot 
kitted him out in suit and tie and sent him to the car.

------------

The reports were coming in thick and fast. No time to digest one 
before the next arrived. It wasn't just the legwork done by the 
twelve Agents that was arriving on his desk. It was all those 
clippings and missing person reports he'd asked for on the mothers 
of the victims. A lot to process. A lot of instructions to issue. A 
lot of meetings to go to. And he couldn't even do what he would 
normally do, skip out and claim the need to think,  Agents In 
Charge didn't have that luxury. And he couldn't do what he would 
normally do when faced with that problem, make more hours by 
stopping sleeping.

He wished that there was someone here he could work on it with. 
Scully would be perfect but she had her own life now. Someone like 
Carr would have helped but he'd gone. If he pulled in one of the 
twelve on the team it would be breaking up a partnership, 
realistically taking two Agents out of the enquiry. And which two? 
The best ones, but then the field work would suffer and he already 
felt bad about not doing any of that himself. The weakest, but 
they'd be useless, he'd just want to redo their work so it wouldn't 
help.

He'd have to do something, tomorrow maybe. Would have done 
something today if he hadn't had to waste the time and the 
emotional energy on that pointless conversation with the 
Psychiatric support counsellor. Still the event hadn't been without 
humour.

He could run rings round the usual crop of therapists and 
counsellors, he knew all the safe answers to their questions. He 
had little respect for the psychologists attached to the Bureau. As 
far as he was concerned, if they were any good, they would either 
have gone into profiling or they'd have got a nice well paid job in 
private practice. Well, that wasn't strictly true and normally he 
wouldn't have said it. He knew that the allegation was unfair and 
that people had more complex and subtle motives and abilities than 
that. But he didn't see much reason to be fair. Since when had 
people been fair to him?

In any case, the repercussions of admitting any problems to them 
would get him put out of field work. And if they referred him out 
to an analyst who could make him talk? What then? Even he sometimes 
looked at his theories and reports and thought they were the work 
of a madman. Anyway he'd feel obliged to wind them up. And if 
anyone mentioned how it was typical of post traumatic stress or the 
need for time to forgive himself he'd probably throw up in their 
office. As if he didn't know.

He couldn't help but feel a small amount of sympathy for the man 
who had been so keen to insist on the appointments running twice 
weekly. Mulder wondered how long it would take before he decided to 
recognise his patient's miraculous recovery.

Now the sleep thing though. That was interesting. Specialised. 
Maybe biochemical. Maybe physiological. Some physical after effect 
of whatever they'd drugged him with perhaps. And best of all, maybe 
that even meant it was something that could be treated with the 
right drugs. If he could find the right doctor. Someone who 
wouldn't ask the wrong questions.

Tonight, he would try again with those videos of the karate event. 
And tomorrow he'd get himself sorted out.

------------------

Susan Keane prepared herself carefully. One more attempt. Civilian 
clothes, don't show up looking like an Agent, it'll help him 
forget. Luckily, he'd left early. Well, early for him. Not all the 
Agents had filed their reports. And she had some more of those 
karate home movies sent in by other proud parents who'd been 
filming their loved ones. Not bad excuses.

She knocked at the door. He was in jeans as well. Not bad. He 
looked nervous.

She felt like hitting him. Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned. 
Did he really have no idea? She was supposed to be his type based 
on what they knew about the various, mostly very short term, 
relationships that littered his past. They'd presented her to him 
just four weeks ago. He was supposed to have been hypnotised into 
knowing that she was irresistible and trustworthy. Well it looked 
as if at least one part of his programming had failed. She wondered 
if that was it. The process that had wiped his memories of the 
period had undone the programming. Wasn't supposed to happen, but 
maybe it had. 'How many more advantages do you need?' Damn that 
ugly old boss of hers.

Working for him had made her feel almost sympathetic towards Mulder 
at the start. Almost as if she was going to take advantage of him. 
But now it was a matter of pride. Professional and feminine pride. 

She almost had to push her way into the apartment. She thought she 
was going have to go and make herself a cup of coffee. He looked 
too confused to speak.

Why was it so difficult for him? All he had to do was relax. She'd 
make sure that he saw the right things on the video. She'd stroke 
away those worry lines. She'd even help him get a good night's 
rest, though officially that wasn't in her job description. She'd 
help him to hide the evidence and start digging his own grave. 
Actually, she reminded herself, she was doing him a favour. This 
was a way for him to avoid ending up dead. He should be grateful. 
It was for his own good.

Fox Mulder leant against the kitchen work surface and tried to 
think rational thoughts. This wasn't just an accident, not just 
friendly. She was serious. She was invading personal space, 
standing too close, accidentally bumping into him, calling around 
uninvited. What was he waiting for, an ad in the Washington Post? 
It would be so nice. Company, pure and simple. Touch, tactile and 
sensual. What could be wrong with that?

He returned to the living room and handed her a coffee. "Sorry 
you've come around on a wild goose chase. I have to go out tonight. 
But thank you for bringing the papers over. If I get up early I may 
work on them before I come into the office." He rattled out the 
words with metronome accuracy.

He groaned with some mixture of relief and disappointment as he 
pushed her out of the front door. He had no idea why he was sending 
her away. Just that he had to. Just that it was right. Alone again. 
Just the alligators and the dinosaurs and the dead victims and the 
abducted children for company. And that was right. And he'd try and 
do something about it tomorrow.

---------------

WEDNESDAY - DC

Dana Scully left the Airport, happy to be back. She would stay at 
her mothers. A commuting hike to the city and to Quantico but a lot 
better than a hotel while she got her apartment back up to scratch. 
Six months away so she'd sublet, but she was back early. Oh well. 
Good to be back. She headed into the city and the FBI Head 
Quarters. A quick appointment with Skinner. Catch up on some 
gossip. Visit Mulder. Start fresh at Quantico tomorrow.

----------

Mulder watched the notes appearing on the whiteboards as the Agents 
tried to piece together the story. They were still working on known 
territory. 

They were looking for people who the first target's brother might 
have known well enough to leave home to meet. Despite him having 
been told by his parents to stay in and look after his sister. Of 
course he was looking after his sister, he took her with him. Where 
did they go? Who did he want to meet? And why? 

There were a lot of things to follow up on and a lot of them were 
the same problem whether it was a lone madman on the loose or a 
disciplined team stealing children for experimentation. The team 
preferred to think of a lone madman. That was ok. That was what 
Mulder preferred to think as well, he just didn't believe it.

The nearest they got to a confrontation was when Mulder got faced 
with a sarcastic suggestion that they get a profile written by some 
wizard from ISU, perhaps Behavioural had some genius on their 
books. Mulder just leant back against the desk and said it was 
worth a try and handed around the three alternative profiles that 
had been prepared. Two from ISU, one from him. He waited for them 
to settle. "Read them all. None of them change the investigative 
approach, they should already be included in the plans. They might 
help if we ever actually get a suspect."

The group looked sheepish. The first profile had been given to them 
before Mulder joined the team. The second from ISU, prepared that 
Monday, after the fourth incident, had been distributed to them the 
previous day by email as soon as it arrived. And Mulder's profile 
was public knowledge. Mulder surveyed them critically. "I don't 
withhold evidence. We've talked about the contents of all three. 
You've had copies of all three. You are all just very busy. The 
analyst from ISU can't get here until tomorrow, else he would have 
briefed you in person."

The mood was cold, professional. Agent Susan Keane worried about 
what she would be able to tell her boss. If Mulder was meant to 
buckle under the pressure, they needed more pressure. 

Mulder slouched back in the seat. Had to find someone to talk to, 
anyone. Had to deal with this sleeping thing, find a someone who 
would mind their own business and deal with the symptoms. Heading 
towards clinical depression, knew it, recognised the signs. The 
autopilot was keeping him afloat. Sudden bursts of adrenaline and 
enthusiasm to counteract the slowing down he was feeling. But 
slowing down, inescapable, inexorable.

Was that why he hadn't responded to Agent Susan Keane's 
invitations. He almost laughed, not respect, not professionalism, 
not even morals, just too depressed to bother. Why was he running 
the case? Lucky he was in the office, he'd be dangerous if he was 
in this mood and out in the field. Would he bother to draw his gun 
in a stand off? Maybe not. He'd certainly be too slow to respond. 

Had to do something about it. Needed a way out. Something. Someone.

Heard a voice. It had to be a hallucination. She wasn't here. Turn 
around very slowly as if you know it's someone else or no one else.

Dana Scully spoke again. "Hi, Mulder. I don't even get a Good 
Morning then?"

Jumped, startled to his feet and looked at her. It was her, wasn't 
it?

He stepped two paces forward and threw his arms around her drawing 
her in close. Letting his senses fill with the smell and feel of 
her.

A ripple of applause followed by some jeers and wolf whistles and a 
muffled shout of, "hey, it's Mrs Spooky."

Dana Scully stiffened, her body went from flesh and blood, to wood 
and then to stone. She pulled away. He stepped back and moved a 
couple of paces towards the chair. Leant back against the desk and 
looked dejectedly at the floor. 

Mulder tried to make a joke of it. Might even have got away with 
making a joke of it, but then Dana Scully stormed out of the 
office.

More laughter. "Yo. Looks like a divorce."

Mulder slumped back into the chair and tuned the world out.

Special Agent Susan Keane smiled, the first time she'd felt like 
smiling all day. An interesting development. She'd take it to her 
boss. There had to be some way to use it.


END of Part 7
---------


From jhumby@ctv.es Thu Oct 31 02:37:05 1996
NEW: The Insurance Policy - 8/11 - by Joann Humby
jhumby@iee.org

Legally:
The interesting characters in this story belong to Chris Carter, 
1013 and Fox as brought to life by DD, GA and the XFiles writers. 
I've borrowed them for fun not profit.

Part 8


Dana Scully locked herself in one of the cubicles in the women's 
room and sat down. This was the nearest she was going to get to 
finding any privacy so it would have to do.

What on earth happened back there?

How on earth was she going to be able to hold up her head again 
when she had to walk through the VCS office. The rumours and the 
nicknames had been bad enough but they'd never had anything real to 
throw at them. How could he be so stupid, so insensitive. He didn't 
act like that when they were in private, how dare he behave like 
that in front of all those Agents.

Neither of them was physical, not like that. Neither even went in 
for those semi formal hugs with family and friends or even those 
over friendly handshakes at first meetings. Of the two of them, it 
had always been Mulder who was the more tactile. But he was 
careful, never intrusive, never pushy.

The only times he had ever put his arms around her, it had been at 
her invitation, at times when she'd needed his touch. Not because 
of some impulse of his. And then in front of half of VCS, she 
couldn't believe it.

Then it struck her. She was huddled up in a cubicle in a washroom 
and why? Because of some jeers from a bunch of idiots in VCS? 
Because touching Fox Mulder was the kiss of death on any remaining 
Bureau ambitions she might have? Because someone might have thought 
that she liked it?

All that had happened was her best friend had greeted her like 
friends do, with a welcome home hug. Probably the one that she 
hadn't got when she met him in Skinner's office the first day he 
came back. And instead of returning it and smiling she'd run away 
from him. Left him standing there looking like an idiot. Turned it 
into a big deal.

It was just such a shock, that was all. He didn't do that. Never.

But then he'd never had six weeks of memories just disappear. She 
knew what that felt like. Or maybe then again she didn't. She had 
never worried that she might have done something awful in those 
missing weeks, she'd only worried about what might have been done 
to her. With Mulder it was the other way around. And she, his best 
friend, the only one he trusted, thought that he'd murdered someone 
until he'd proved her wrong.

And now he was back and running a high pressure team with no leads, 
investigating the abduction of young girls and the death of an 
elder brother and a  nanny who were in the way.

It had always been up to her, pulling him closer because for an 
instant she needed his touch, some physical contact. And now he'd 
needed her and she'd run away.

She straightened her suit and dried her eyes. Walked calmly to the 
sink, tidied her makeup, combed her hair. She returned to the VCS 
office, head held high, face set against any comments.

A voice. "You looking for Mulder?"

She tensed but was grateful for the wording. Not 'Spooky'. Not 
'your boyfriend'. She nodded.

"He left a few minutes ago. Guess he wanted some privacy. Must have 
thought he'd have to make do with his own company."

A smattering of laughs from around the office. Scully turned on her 
heels and left.

Where would he go? The basement? No, not there, people would go 
looking for him there and he'd be really embarrassed if they found 
him sulking. Home? She checked the parking lot and found his car. 
Outside? She went for a walk through his usual haunts and tracked 
him down.

She sat on the bench and stayed quiet. Not sure what to say but 
hoping that he'd make the first move. He stayed quiet.

After a few minutes and without looking at her, he started to talk. 
"I'm sorry, I know that must have been very embarrassing for you. 
If there's some way for me to make it right, I'll try, but I don't 
know what's best."

She sighed. "I came to apologise to you. I overreacted. I was just 
surprised."

A short mirthless laugh came back. "I was surprised as well. I 
thought I was in worse condition than that."

She motioned for him to go on, but he wasn't looking so she had to 
ask him to explain.

"I was relieved I reacted normally when I saw you. I'm not reacting 
much to anything at the moment." He paused. "Oh, I know what you're 
thinking, I didn't react normally. But I did. I always react like 
that when I see you again after you've been away. But the self 
control takes over before I do anything about it. So today it was 
only half normal, but that's fifty percent better than I thought I 
might be." That same mirthless shrug.

"You're depressed?"

"Not yet, not in the clinical sense."

"Are you seeing anyone?"

"No one who can help." He looked at her. She'd rescued him so often 
before. Could he ask her to rescue him again? "I'm not sleeping 
properly, not dreaming."

"Insomnia? Nightmares?"

He half smiled, "no the opposite, sleeping too much, no dreams, not 
even nightmares."

Dr Scully took over, he was the psychologist but she stayed in 
touch with that kind of thing. "It can be associated with 
depression."

He shook his head. "It can but I don't think it's so direct. It's 
more chicken and egg. I'm not dreaming, the brain needs dreams. I'm 
not running, I don't have the time or the energy,  yet my body is 
craving the endorphins from running. It's a spiral."

"How do you know you aren't dreaming?"

"I set up a video camera."

She looked him over, the investigator and psychologist working on 
his own case. She needed to get him some treatment, she'd see 
Skinner about it. Get him off that horrible kidnap and murder case.

He looked back and read her expression. She was going to try and 
get him sent to a Doctor, probably put on medical leave. Why had he 
told her? Why did she always have to be so damned practical and 
professional. Couldn't she just have stuck to being a friend for a 
while longer?

The cellular phone rang. Mulder listened as Masters told him to get 
to his office immediately and explain the incident that had taken 
place in VCS. Mulder shut down the call and stood up to leave.

"You need help Mulder."

Mulder looked back at her, regretting having said anything. He knew 
that they were still in the same place they were on that plane 
flying out to Florida. He recalled the couple of days they'd spent 
trying to unravel his lost weeks. Scully had watched him all the 
time they were working, clucking over him like a mother hen. He had 
to get away from her. He didn't deserve her concern, he didn't want 
her pity. He was weak. Usually other people paid for his weakness. 
Not this time though, this time he would pay for it himself and he 
would pay for it alone.
 
"I'm fine." He said sharply. "I'll get advice on the dreams." He 
headed back to the building.

Dana Scully pondered the situation. She couldn't just sit back and 
let him dig a pit for himself. She couldn't let him screw up the 
case either. And with a sickening feeling she realised that also 
might be chicken and egg. If the case went wrong, he would blame 
himself. If he wasn't hundred percent he could foul up the case. 
She knew what she ought to do, it was engraved on her professional 
FBI Agent and trained Doctor's heart. But first she'd do some 
research into dreams and sleep disorders. And she wouldn't go 
behind Mulder's back, she'd talk to him before she brought in an 
outsider.

------------

After his interview with AD Masters, Mulder wasn't sure whether to 
laugh or cry. It was serious, of course it was serious, but there 
was a kind of cold comedy to the situation as well.

The "incident" with Dana Scully had been reported, embellished, 
rediscovered, embellished some more and had rapidly reached the top 
of the VCS tree. Misconduct proceedings were anticipated unless 
there was a satisfactory explanation. Mulder spoke calmly and rode 
it out, insisted that any security video footage of the office area 
be brought in and analysed there and then. A storm in a teacup. Of 
course if there was a complaint from Agent Scully then it would be 
different, but nothing in the incident itself to justify the 
overblown rumours that followed it.

Masters was relieved as he looked at the video to get the 
corroboration for Mulder's story. To Masters, it even looked like 
Scully had got out of the room to avoid the harassment of the VCS 
audience, nothing to do with Mulder.

They moved on to the next allegation. Mulder was too stunned even 
to argue. Agent Keane had mentioned to a friend problems she'd been 
having during the case. No direct accusations, no direct complaint, 
not yet. But everyone knew there was no smoke without fire and 
Keane's friends in the Bureau had seen some worrying smoke signals.

Masters looked at Mulder. "If she makes it official, there will be 
an investigation."

"Of course."

"You don't want to defend yourself?"

"I did not act improperly towards Agent Keane."

"Can you prove it?"

"I don't see how."

"She has visited your apartment a couple of times. She had 
breakfast with you?"

"She was dropping off reports. She wanted to explain some of the 
stuff she brought over."

"And is this normal?"

"Agents often call on other Agents at home."

"Partners perhaps. Maybe even if she was one of the more 
experienced Agents on your team I'd understand you inviting her in 
to discuss the case. But she's relatively inexperienced." 

"It wouldn't be thought strange if it was a male Agent. You are 
worried because it's a woman."

"It's my job to worry."

"There's no point worrying about this, nothing happened."

"Think of a way to prove it."

When Mulder finally left the office he felt like he'd done ten 
rounds with Mike Tyson. He decided to go and see Walter Skinner.

-------

Mulder stood in the area outside Skinner's new office and tried to 
stop feeling like a delinquent teenager sent to see the School 
Principal. He was, after all, the instigator of this meeting. Just 
a five minute interval sneaked in between Skinner's meeting with 
the Director and his brainstorm session with some of the regional 
chiefs.

Time for a change of image. He flicked his hair back though it 
didn't need it, checked his tie and stood up straight and started 
to chat with Skinner's administrative assistant. Who knows when he 
might need her help again.

AD Skinner turned the corner and stopped for an instant. "Good 
morning, Agent Mulder. You trying out for a job in the next 
recruitment brochure?"

Mulder turned to face him and responded in kind. "No Sir, just 
trying to lull you into a false sense of security."

"Never." Skinner led the way into the office.

Skinner decided to set the record straight. "Agent Mulder. You are 
sure that this matter would not be best addressed with AD Masters?"

Mulder kept to the script. "Yes Sir. It's not related to current 
casework."

Skinner motioned for Mulder to start talking.

Mulder spoke quietly and dispassionately, "I recall you having some 
contact with a sleep disorders clinic a while back?"

Skinner sat back, alarmed at the memory but grateful for Mulder's 
cautious phrasing. He nodded.

"Is there anyone there who you could recommend, I know an Agent who 
needs some assistance."

"They should go to psychiatric services and get a referral from 
there." Skinner started to write a name and phone number on the pad 
in front of him.

Mulder nodded. "Yes Sir. You are probably right." He took the paper 
that Skinner had scribbled on and said thankyou. They spoke a 
little about the progress of the case.

-----------

Dana Scully looked down at the file on the desk, it described the 
key priorities for her new job. It was interesting, but not as 
interesting as the research papers she'd spent the last couple of 
hours gathering from the net. Officially, she reminded herself, she 
didn't start work until tomorrow so it wasn't as if she was 
neglecting her duties.

She gathered up the notes and headed out of the X-Files office. She 
hadn't seen Mulder since the morning. She'd purposely kept away 
from the other Agents. She was pretty confident now that by 
tomorrow morning she'd be able to face down any one of them.

An hour later she was knocking on the door of Mulder's apartment. 
She hadn't really expected him to be home yet, so she wasn't 
surprised to have to let herself in. She headed straight to the 
kitchen to make some coffee. Only as she poured the first cupful 
did the situation strike her as odd.

She hadn't been in here in six months, yet she treated it as if it 
was the most natural thing in the world to just walk in and fix 
some coffee. And that was even after all the cold that had come 
between them and even after that ridiculous scene this morning.

The phone rang, she automatically picked it up. Susan, Agent Keane 
wanting to talk to Fox. Scully tried to keep the surprise out of 
her voice as she took the message.

Mulder had two bags of shopping with him when he arrived home. One 
with the prescriptions that the clinic had come up with. The other 
with food. He sensed that there was someone in the apartment though 
he couldn't really say if he'd heard a noise. He put the bags on 
the floor.

After his trip to the clinic, he was more than ever aware of the 
lethargy that seemed to running around his body instead of blood. 
He knew that his reactions were dulled. He forced himself to 
respond to the threat even though he didn't think he had to. 
Defensive, jumpy, he pulled his gun from its holster and entered 
the apartment.

Scully turned towards the noise in the doorway. "You wouldn't shoot 
an unarmed man, would ya copper." She said cheerily.

He put the gun down and stood absolutely still.

She waited and realised that he looked frozen to the spot. She 
walked over to him. "Mulder, are you ok? I know you weren't 
expecting me. It must have been a shock. I'm sorry."

He turned away from her, shuddering, slammed into the wall. Slumped 
to his knees, gasping for breath.

For an instant Scully was terrified that it was a heart attack, she 
tried to get close to him but he thrashed his arms to keep her 
away. She stayed a pace or two in front of him and then sat back on 
her heels.

They stayed crouched for a long time until Mulder stood up without 
a word and walked shakily over to the couch.

Scully followed him. "What happened?"

He looked at her. He didn't want to tell her. 

She tried again. "How are you feeling?"

Still no reply.

She moved closer to him on the couch. "I promise I won't force you 
to go to a Doctor or make Skinner, Masters, or whoever send you."

He still trusted her and he did still believe her promises. She 
could see him start to relax.

She nudged him playfully. "Now talk before I get my gun out and I 
start demonstrating what I know about police brutality."

"I'm ok now." He paused. She took a deep breath as if preparing to 
tell him that wasn't enough of an answer, but he moved his hand to 
tell her to wait. She gave him a few minutes space. Then he carried 
on without further prompting. "I feel like I'm a ball bouncing down 
a flight of stairs. Each high a little more feeble. Each low a 
little lower. And just then was the lowest yet. A really strange 
sensation, like deja vu, a really strong image, but I thought I 
shot you."

"I startled you."

"Startled doesn't come into it."

She went to the kitchen and returned with a glass of water which he 
gulped quickly. 

He spoke without looking at her, "why are you here?"

"I've been doing some research. She pointed at the notes."

He scanned the titles and headings then walked back to the door 
returning with the two carrier bags. He emptied one, "yeah, me 
too."

"You mean, you went to see someone. Just like that. On your own?"

He couldn't help but smile at the way she said it. "Yes, I'm a big 
boy now. I even get to choose my own ties in the morning."

She smiled back. "No surprise there."

They sat and talked and swopped research notes. The drugs would 
dull the side effects of panic and depression that the failure to 
enter rem sleep was creating. With any luck they might even settle 
him enough that he would start to dream again. They had suggested 
that he stay for overnight observation at the clinic, but he had 
refused. They'd gone along with his idea that he continue to video 
at night and then bring them any changes he'd seen.

She was careful not to push too hard. "Depression and not dreaming. 
Like the chicken and the egg?"

"Physiological. The brain chemistry is way off and until that's 
straight I can't break the spiral. I'm going back for some tests to 
see if it's neurological damage or drug induced."

She picked up the file containing the results of the hospital tests 
from Miami a couple of weeks earlier. "There was nothing on the tox 
report when you came back. Though now I know what to look for, the 
seratonin and melatonin levels were strange. But I'd just marked 
that as being due to the general run down condition you were in. We 
can run another blood test alongside the one for the clinic."

He winced but agreed. "I doubt that it's drugs, not still having an 
effect after all this time."

"You suggested neurological damage?"

"You remember those guys programmed to stay awake. Part of our war 
effort." He mumbled sarcastically. "What if someone knows how to 
disrupt sleep in more subtle ways?"

"For what purpose?  Who needs an army of sleepy, panicky soldiers?"

He smiled. "Sleepy and panicky, thanks for the write up." He paused 
"It could be something they stumbled on while trying out something 
else. It could be designed to drive its victims mad."

"Is that how it feels?"

He looked nervously away. "Where are you staying tonight?"

"My mom's. Unless you'd rather I stayed here?"

"No. I just wanted to know where you would be."

"Susan rang." She looked at his puzzled expression and put some 
teasing into her voice. "Agent Susan Keane wanted Fox to call her 
back."

He groaned. "Maybe it would be best if you did stay here." He 
recounted his discussion with AD Masters.

She was horrified but tried to keep her voice lighthearted. "Maybe 
she watched Snow White as a kid and always had a thing about 
'Sleepie'."



END of Part 8
========


From jhumby@ctv.es Thu Oct 31 02:37:37 1996
NEW: The Insurance Policy - 9/11 - by Joann Humby
jhumby@iee.org

Legally:
The interesting characters in this story belong to Chris Carter, 
1013 and Fox as brought to life by DD, GA and the XFiles writers. 
I've borrowed them for fun not profit.

Part 9

The automatic pilot had got him into work again. He let it look 
after him. He knew it could handle that kind of thing. He grimaced 
as he thought about Skinner's comments the day before and the 
Senator's remarks. Seemed like the less he felt like an FBI Agent 
the more he looked like one. Strange that, the brain shutting down, 
but trivia being dealt with by the learned responses.

Now if only the learned responses and the FBI trained auto pilot 
would take over the investigation he had a chance of making it 
through this. He could help the investigation, he did have a better 
insight on this kind of thing than the others. But lead it? No way 
should he be leading it. It would take days for the drugs to kick 
in and even then, they were only synthetics taking the sharpest 
edges off the symptoms. The underlying problem, physical or 
psychological, would still be there. And they deserved better than 
that.

AD Masters was scarcely surprised to get his early morning visit 
from Fox Mulder, he'd almost come to anticipate them. He listened 
to the latest litany of reasons why he should appoint a new Special 
Agent In Charge.

Mulder started from the lack of suspects, went through the list of 
medication he was now on, moved onto the strained situation 
following yesterday's little scene in the VCS office and closed 
with the reminder of a threatened sexual harassment charge.

Masters marvelled at the level of detachment in the voice. Though 
of course he knew it was only because of that detachment, that 
Mulder was still working. He couldn't pull Mulder. The orders were 
explicit, no changes to the team and no change of responsibilities. 
And Masters now knew that if Mulder took the only way out on offer, 
there were quite a few people in Psych services and OPC who would 
try and make sure that any voluntary medical leave turned into 
mandatory retirement.

Masters reminded himself of his other reasons for keeping Mulder 
working. He'd talked to Skinner the night before and Skinner had 
asked the question, 'if it was your kid missing, who would you want 
on the case?' Masters agreed.  Mulder was getting help now and none 
of the drugs were mandatory prescriptions and none of them were 
automatic grounds for medical leave. Dana Scully was back, Skinner 
said that was a good thing, though after yesterday, Masters wasn't 
so sure.

Masters said what he had to. "You are still the best man for the 
job. Give yourself a few more days. Spend as much time at the 
clinic as you like."

Mulder sat back and knew for sure that Masters was just the 
errandboy and reminded himself that there was no point shooting the 
messenger. He used the stairs to get to the VCS office, buying 
extra time to compose himself.

-----------------

The team briefing was undramatic. The Analyst from ISU happy to 
punch holes in his own profile. Yes, it didn't really seem like the 
work of a lone maniac. But without a ransom demand it was hard to 
imagine a group being involved. No motive. He could see where 
Mulder was coming from. They needed to keep their options open. 

After the Agents dispersed to carry on with their enquiries Mulder 
asked Agent Keane to stay behind with her partner. They sat in the 
quiet interview room.

Mulder spoke carefully. "I'm sorry if any of my words or actions 
have offended you. I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable. If it's 
too difficult for you to work with me I will leave the case team." 
Mulder wasn't sure that it was a promise he would be allowed to 
keep, but it was right in principle.
 
Susan Keane sat back, stunned and silent.

Mulder noted the discomfort, apologised again and left. He'd tried 
rerunning the meetings with her but couldn't remember what he'd 
done wrong. But then he didn't think he'd done anything wrong with 
Scully and she'd run away from him. So obviously his judgement was 
way off at the moment.

When Mulder returned to his desk he was in no mood to read other 
people's reports. He wanted to get back into the details of the 
work himself again. 

He dug out the videos of the karate competition. After two hours of 
watching home movies on fast forward he was feeling distinctly 
queasy. He'd spotted the Senator's nanny a couple of times. But no 
obvious homicidal maniacs lurking ominously in the shadows. It was 
a long shot, a very long shot. Other Agents had already tried.

He rewound slightly to watch a piece of the tape again. A familiar 
mannerism, the flexing and unflexing of fingers. He let it run at 
normal speed. And saw himself.

=========

The DC police officer tapping on the car window brought him back to 
reality. Mulder looked around, just what he needed. He had pulled 
off the freeway when the panic had started to affect his breathing 
and now he was about to get booked. He steadied himself and 
prepared to lie.

The officer was suspicious, but he didn't really need to hand out 
another ticket so bad that he wanted to get into an argument over 
it. If the FBI Agent was going to claim that he'd had to stop to 
get urgent information for a colleague who'd just rung through on 
his cellular, well who was he to criticise? It would have been 
worse if he'd been driving along with a phone in one hand, digging 
through papers with the other.

Mulder felt a lot calmer as he sat in Dana Scully's comfortable 
Quantico office. Even as they watched the video together the panic 
didn't come back.

Scully looked him over. "You know I don't think I've ever seen you 
so rested, it's weird, it's like the mood swings aren't affecting 
you physically. You look fine now."

He groaned. "Oh no. Not you as well." He explained about Skinner's 
comments and the Senator's remarks, then offered a theory.  "I'm 
sleeping more than normal, my body seems to approve even if it's 
not helping my brain. And it looks like the auto pilot that sends 
me to work in the morning makes a better job of it than my 
conscious mind."

"Because normally you're too busy."

A self conscious laugh provided the reply.

In a way it didn't surprise her. It had always intrigued her the 
way he could find the energy to instantly flip between on duty and 
off duty in appearance when they were in the field, even when she 
knew mentally he was focused one hundred percent on a case.

"How are you feeling?" She said nervously. 

"Still bouncing downstairs." He turned away, it was the end of that 
discussion.

They returned their attention to the videos. A little while later 
Dana Scully hit the pause capturing an image of a tall dark haired 
man. She put the recording to frame advance and dug around in one 
of the files she'd brought back with her from Florida. "Mark 
Trent."

"Who?"

"He was part of the CIA team you worked with during the debriefing 
when you got back from Europe."

"I don't know him."

"He was one of the people I interviewed when we went to the CIA. I 
think you did know him." She emphasised the did and Mulder shivered 
slightly as he understood what she meant.

Mulder pressed back a little further into the upholstery of the 
chair. He looked at the file photos and at the TV screen. It did 
look awfully like the same man. 

There was a raw dread now in the way  Mulder felt. Not just in no 
fit state to run the investigation, in the absence of any 
indication to the contrary he would now have to put himself way up 
there on the suspects list. And given the lack of suspects that 
wasn't a very comfortable place to be. The only consolation was 
that at least he had a CIA colleague to join him on it.

-----------

Special Agent Susan Keane was not happy about this turn of events. 
Where was the annoyance? Where was the despair? He'd just sat and 
calmly taken the responsibility. He'd apologised. 

She felt appalled at herself, how low had she stooped? She had 
reasons, good reasons for what she did. She'd even convinced 
herself she was helping him. Now she just felt dirty. They were 
using her to try and destroy someone who didn't deserve that kind 
of treatment.

Her partner looked at her, unsure what to say. Finally he broke the 
silence. "So what are you going to do? Was that a good enough 
apology or do you want to make it official."

Keane bit back her reaction but still some it seeped out. "He's got 
nothing to apologise for. I was coming on to him and he brushed me 
off."

Her partner looked down at the floor. He'd wondered about it, 
thought it seemed unlikely. But he hadn't wanted to act as if he 
didn't believe her. After all she'd never made a play for him, not 
the way she had for Mulder.

----------

Mulder booked himself and two of the Agents from the team on the 
next morning's flight down to Florida.

The meeting was going to be difficult. Despite the warmth of his 
welcome on the last visit, Mulder knew he had to prepare for the 
worst. To all practical purposes he was about to go in and meet his 
old CIA boss and accuse him of having some complicity in his memory 
loss and worse still, in the abduction of four children and the 
murder of two people.

The Agents accompanying him watched him closely. Spooky had been 
living up to his name on the case. Weird leaps of logic, impressive 
analysis of evidence, sharp. He looked like butter wouldn't melt in 
his mouth. Ice cold. Then suddenly it would all just crumble and 
you'd think he was going to be leaving the building in a strait 
jacket.

Mulder felt the inspection and shivered uncomfortably. Just had to 
get through the day, one hour at a time, one minute at a time. The 
drugs would be cutting in soon. But would it be enough, soon 
enough.

CIA Regional Office Chief Mike Cameron checked Mulder over and 
started to greet him, congratulating him on his rapid recovery.

Mulder smiled, embarrassed. "Fraid not Mike. It's just a shiny 
paint job. I feel like crap."

Cameron looked back. Mulder watched him carefully. Either Cameron 
was a very good liar, which of course he probably was, or else 
Cameron was genuinely worried about what had happened. The two 
Agents accompanying Mulder sat back to wait for the fireworks.

They watched the tape. "Mark Trent?" Asked Mulder. "One of your 
people?"

Cameron looked back horrified as the jigsaw puzzle pieces slotted 
in place in his head. "Mulder. We need some privacy."

The other two Agents took Mulder's nod of the head as the 
instruction to leave.

Cameron leant forward. "Agent Scully came around asking about that 
blond bodyguard type, crew cut. Well it could have been lots of 
people. But I'd forgotten about Simon Jackson. He was Mark Trent's 
partner about five years ago. He left, got recruited from here. I 
think he still gets the paychecks from the same people as us 
though. But he's not CIA. Now it looks like Trent's not ours 
either."

Mulder replayed it a few times in his head, trying to force his 
mind to concentrate. "So the man on the video is Mark Trent and 
he's CIA and there's a good chance that Simon Jackson, ex CIA, is 
the other man I was seen with."

"Yeah, Simon Jackson, well that's what he was called back then. 
Trent met you for a couple of the debriefs and he was there at that 
dinner at your hotel the night before you went missing. I feel so 
bad about this. It's like I set you up. I'll get Trent. Don't 
worry, I promise he'll be happy to talk to you."

Mulder puzzled over that for an instant. It was taking his brain a 
while to process things but he realised that Cameron was telling 
him that Trent would be made happy to talk.

Cameron looked back uncomfortably. "This isn't right. You did a 
good job for us.  I'll do what I can. What's wrong with you anyway? 
You aren't your usual self."

"They left me with a bit of a problem to go with the memory loss."

"What, you getting help from a shrink or something?"

Mulder smiled, he could feel the panic and the nausea fading. He 
wasn't going to bounce down the next step just yet, Cameron wasn't 
going to let him. "Or something. Do you have anyone on the crew 
here who does research work on sleep patterns?" Mulder held his 
breath as he waited for the reply, he couldn't get that lucky, 
could he?

Cameron just shook his head. "No. Too specialised for us, there are 
a couple of Labs, I could get you some names. This to do with the 
case or you having trouble sleeping?"

"The names would help."

Cameron nodded.

Mulder went to talk to the other Agents. Cameron sent for Trent. 
Cameron tapped Mulder on the shoulder, "do you want to be there for 
this?"

Mulder shook his head uncomfortably. "No. Call me when he's ready 
to talk."

Cameron nodded, acknowledging the Fed's squeamishness with a brief 
grin.

---------

Agents Clarke and Andrews sat as passive witnesses at Mulder's 
interrogation of Mark Trent. Though 'interrogation' hardly seemed 
like the right term. Mulder was quiet, confident, confiding, gently 
leading and focusing the discussion. Trent was 'happy to talk'. 

Trent was finally led away to sleep off the side effects of his 
'happy to talk' injection. 

Mulder stayed in place, his hands gripping the edge of the table 
top, he looked blankly at the wall in front of him. Clarke and 
Andrews moved forward to the table to start discussing the case. 
Mulder carried on looking carefully forward, trying to breathe.

The chair fell backwards as Mulder turned and ran for the door. It 
was a long time before he returned.

If only the other Agents hadn't been there he would have been ok. 
He was already on the upward curve of the bounce. He prepared 
himself for the worst and reminded himself that they were robots. 
Just robots.

The two Agents were still at the table where he'd left them. They 
gave him the chance to sit down. Clarke handed him a coffee and 
pushed the plate of cookies towards him. "You ok, now?"

Mulder looked at him. What was this, some sort of a joke? 

Clarke decided to carry on despite the lack of an answer. "What 
they did to him, Trent,  to make him talk. If I hadn't been here I 
would not have believed it. And that's what they do to one of their 
own." Clarke paused, his voice was tinged with a kind of horrified 
fascination. "And what they did to you. If I hadn't been here to 
hear it..."

"You would have had me locked in a psychiatric ward as soon as you 
saw the report." Mulder said the words without looking up from the 
coffee.

"Something like that." Clarke hesitated for an instant. "Do you 
think we can get the blond guy, Simon Jackson or Charles Taylor or 
whoever he is?"

"They are usually good at disappearing, but that's no reason for 
not trying."

"If this stuff's what they can do to people, how can you keep going 
on?"

Mulder lifted his head. "If this stuff's what they can do to 
people, how can I stop?" He paused and smiled suddenly. "Hey, 
didn't we have some work to do?"

Mulder thought about the bounce, he didn't feel like he was falling 
quite so fast.

------------

The man surveyed Agent Susan Keane and pondered her 
insubordination. 'Wasn't going to be used like that'. Who does she 
think she is?

But Keane's sudden attack of morals was only one of his problems. 
This job had been ill fated from the start. 

Skinner was still helping Mulder. Even Masters had helped Mulder, 
not just ordering him to do the job, he was telling him that he was 
good at it.

Mulder, instead of hiding the video evidence of his contact with 
the victim, had shipped out multiple copies of it around the team. 
And in a truly unlucky break one of the genuine 'home movies' had 
footage of a CIA Agent and they'd spotted it. What chance was there 
of that?

Mulder had even been to see a Doctor about the sleeping thing. He'd 
even told his boss what drugs he was on. Since when did Mulder let 
people help him? 

Probably something to do with Dana Scully. He'd been shocked to 
hear of her return to DC. Then they had such a lucky break with 
that first meeting and her running out on Mulder. But they seemed 
to have made it all up again by the next day.

Mike Cameron, who didn't know when to shut up, had given  Mark 
Trent to Mulder for interrogation. And Trent would have been able 
to tell them just about everything that happened to Mulder in those 
missing weeks.

Damn it. Was there anything else that could go wrong? When his 
supervisors got to know about this there would be a lot of trouble. 
He'd never expected the frame ups to stick but they should have 
caused Mulder more discomfort than this.

He had few cards left. But he still had the kids. While he had them 
he could still try something with Mulder but it would be risky. 
Still there were one or two things going for him. Everyone knew how 
depressed and moodie Mulder was and his bosses knew that he was on 
some mishmash of drugs to control it. Maybe even now things could 
become too much for him.

The medical retirement idea had been more elegant. Less chance of 
repercussions. What self respecting newspaper would take at face 
value, stories from an ex Agent who had voluntarily taken 
psychiatric leave then who had failed to prove himself fit to 
return? It was unlikely that Mulder would be so obliging now.

But suicide. Untidy. Unfortunate. But, understandable. They would 
have to move fast.



END of Part 9
--------------



From jhumby@ctv.es Thu Oct 31 02:37:41 1996
NEW: The Insurance Policy - 10/11 - by Joann Humby
jhumby@iee.org

Legally:
The interesting characters in this story belong to Chris Carter, 
1013 and Fox as brought to life by DD, GA and the XFiles writers. 
I've borrowed them for fun not profit.

Part 10


Agent Clarke did most of the talking. Agent Andrews did most of the 
writing down. Mulder interrupted occasionally, correcting, adding.

Mulder didn't like the story. Didn't like his predictability. 
Didn't like the fact that he found it very easy to imagine being 
drugged during dinner at the hotel and told some story about 
abductees. Didn't like the idea that he would respond to the words 
by following these strangers. Like one of Pavlov's dogs.

Most frustrating was the fact that he had spent part of those 
missing weeks investigating the disappearance of a little girl and 
her elder brother. And then another little girl. He might already 
have solved this case once, if only he could remember any of it.

He'd persisted in little acts of rebellion throughout the time he 
was with them but nothing that they hadn't expected. His phone 
always seemed to catch Skinner's or Scully's answering machine. His 
emails didn't seem to get much of a response, bad timing because of 
the holiday, people linking it to long weekends. Foolish mistakes 
on his part, they had of course just intercepted his phone calls 
and emails. And he was the man who didn't believe in coincidences, 
yet he had believed that there was nothing wrong?

It was only after he had met Sarah Deacon, the Senator's nanny, 
that he'd really turned difficult. They'd upped the medication but 
his paranoia was kicking in hard. He refused to assist them in 
taking Sarah Deacon into protective custody. He was trying to make 
phone calls from other people's phones. Bizarrely, he was even 
insisting on a visit to a hairdresser.

So they gave in on a few things. They'd let him get his hair cut. 
But, they didn't let him go to Washington to see Deacon. And they 
didn't let him go anywhere without a guard. Protection they'd said. 
The same reason he was told not to let other people know what he 
was up to. So no contact with Mike Cameron or the Lone Gunman guys. 
Had to stay undercover else it might all collapse around him and 
then he would have no chance of finding the truth.

They had known the right buttons to push.

He cursed his predictability.

------------

Impulsive, instinct driven on many things, his attention to detail 
on investigations could shock even people who knew him well. Even 
Mulder was surprised by it this time.

He looked again at the notes he'd taken and wondered who he had 
been writing about. He'd taken to logging the mood swings. Self 
defence. He couldn't tell how low he was going to sweep. He knew 
that when he hit the bottom of the bounce he was at first too panic 
stricken and then too apathetic to do anything dangerous, either to 
himself or anyone else. It was when he started to recover he was at 
risk. Imagining some sudden burst of energy provoking some equally 
sudden burst of violence was only too easy.

It would be easy to do what the Doctors suggested, add another 
ingredient to the cocktail of drugs that he was already taking and 
numb himself to it. Reduce the risk. The trouble was it would 
reduce the sharpness as well. He wouldn't be able to progress the 
case and that could mean those kids who might, even now, be still 
alive would have one less chance.

So instead, as he bounced back from the pit he'd fallen in, he read 
his own case notes. Apparently, whether he deserved it or not, a 
lot of people were trying to help him. Skinner and Scully, though 
maybe he should have expected that. But Richard Carr before he got 
pulled out to another job, AD Masters and Mike Cameron, they were 
all surprises. Clarke and Andrews had been sympathetic, 
understanding and had given him time when he needed it. Unworthy of 
their regard. Yet it said here that he was still one of the best 
hopes those kids had. Had he really written that? And meant it?

Well if he had written it, it had to be during some sort of manic 
cycle of his day. And if he was their best hope, they were in big 
trouble. A sudden flash of memory, that was what Lucy Householder 
had told him about herself. She'd saved that little girl. By dying.

He read the list of symptoms associated with not sleeping properly, 
carefully ticked them off his own checklist. He read the list of 
medicines he'd been prescribed and the reasons for and actions of 
each one. 

He read about the sudden short bursts of sleep the brain could 
choose to snatch at odd times if it was deprived of real sleep. The 
way a few seconds of brilliant, intense, overwhelmingly realistic 
dreams could suddenly cut in. Usually in the wind down from moments 
of high stress, after some adrenaline peak. A kind of narcolepsy. 
Not psychotic hallucinations.

The cold, detached, analytical part of his brain recognised what it 
was being told. He read the words until the rest of his brain shut 
up.

----------------

Assistant Director Skinner waited for Masters to talk. They'd both 
read the reports. 

Mulder was claiming to have been drugged, led from his hotel, 
hypnotised and surgically operated on and drugged again.  A 
succession of different controls played out over three weeks. Three 
weeks kept under wraps, apparently free but actually under armed 
guard and in various degrees of drug induced haze. Long enough to 
set some frame ups in place. Long enough to be able to dump Mulder 
with a problem so serious he should have been incapable of 
defending himself.

But he had defended himself, from the first attempted frame up for 
the murder of the guard and now from the second one, an attempt to 
implicate him in the disappearance of those children.

Masters looked gloomily across at Skinner. "I won't bother to ask 
if you think it's for real, I know you do. I thought the 
instructions to keep him on the case were about pushing him until 
he fell out of the Bureau, but it's a lot worse than that, isn't 
it?"

Skinner nodded.

Masters groaned. "You might have warned me."

"Yeah, and you would have believed it."

Masters acknowledged the comment with a shrug. "So they reckoned 
they'd either get him with the frame up or he'd   crack and give up 
or he'd screw up so bad we could fire him. But his defences have 
been too good for them." He winced. "Makes you wonder what the 
attacks have been like in the past for him to have trained his 
defences that well."

Skinner didn't bother to reply.

---------

Dana Scully sat in the VCS office. It was Saturday morning, so only 
a few of the Agents were in but she'd joined Mulder, Clarke and 
Andrews to plan the next tasks. 

Mulder had considered staying in Florida for the weekend but he 
needed to visit the clinic, needed some recovery time. Masters had 
ordered him to come back to DC telling him that as most of their 
contacts worked for the government they weren't going to get 
anywhere until Monday.  It was an order.

They talked about the research lab where the guard had been killed. 
It was too much of a coincidence for a guard to be killed at the 
Lab. Too much of a coincidence for there to be video footage of 
Mulder at the lab unless that was where they'd held him after he 
became too difficult. Must have been taken there after that visit 
to the hair stylist. Shame he didn't remember the visit to the 
salon, he'd obviously made an impression, probably could have got 
some pointers.

Scully told them what she knew about the Lab. Research specialists 
in the treatment of chemical weapons injuries. Mulder snorted 
dismissively, "that could mean anything, just an excuse for high 
fences."

Scully told him what else she'd discovered. A long list of staff 
had been identified. She'd had people track down their biographies, 
Doctorate theses, published papers. A lot of hints about chemicals 
that influenced the brain, even some that made it more malleable, 
more open to suggestion. But nothing that linked anyone to invasive 
surgery and sleep research.

Clarke and Andrews sat in stunned silence through most of the 
debate as Mulder and Scully jumped from subject to subject. Clarke 
was conscious that he was only hearing fifty percent of the 
discussion. The rest of it had to be going on telepathically and of 
the bits he did hear he reckoned he only understood half the words. 

At last they slowed down and came back to earth. More practical 
things awaited. They would visit the Lab on Monday, take some more 
Agents with them so they could complete the interviews quicker. 
Mulder reckoned they had as much as Mark Trent could tell them and 
he wasn't going to bet on finding the guy with the blond crewcut. 
So they'd have to switch to colleagues, friends, known associates 
of the two men.

The first two kidnappings had taken place when someone lured the 
children out. The someone, they now knew was Sarah Deacon, the 
Senator's nanny. She thought she was acting in their best 
interests. There had been warnings given to her that their lives 
were in danger and that they needed to go into protective custody 
and that she was to lead them. And then, she'd forgotten all about 
it, they'd told her she had no need to remember. 

The nanny and the Senator's daughter hadn't needed the same 
prompting to encourage them to go their 'protectors.' Sarah Deacon 
remembered the time and place given to her at the karate 
competition by a man who worked for the CIA.

Mulder felt momentarily grateful for his paranoia. Too little of 
the medication and apparently he wouldn't go along with parts of 
the plan. He certainly wouldn't help seize the child and her nanny 
on the pretext of protective custody. Too much medication and he 
just went to sleep. He could so easily have become their 
accomplice. If they'd had more time to play around with him, he 
probably would have.

Losing him like that. Those kids mugging him and dumping him across 
town. They'd been so unlucky. Who knows, maybe the next phase of 
their plan might have been more successful than the first one. Let 
him wake up in strange surroundings, suffering from shortterm 
memory loss. How could he fail to trust his rescuers? How could he 
fail to believe their account of the missing weeks?

So if the nanny had acted as the safe voice for the first two 
kidnappings and she had been preprogrammed with instructions for 
herself, who had tempted the fourth victim to leave home?

The rest of the Agents would focus on Washington. They would try 
and find out where the nanny met the victims, presumably close to 
the call box the messages had come from. And they would find out 
who lured the fourth little girl from her home. Who might have 
done? Who might she have trusted that much? Who, just maybe, had 
such access to her that they could drug her food and make her more 
open to suggestion?

The single most important task in all of it was the one unspoken 
one. Where were the little girls now? They'd keep up the routine 
pressure on empty buildings and odd sightings but until they got 
more of a scent they had no trail to follow.

----------

SATURDAY NIGHT

Mulder slept his dreamless sleep until he was woken by a mass of 
cold metal being held up against his face. He knew it was a gun. He 
felt the fabric bag being pulled over his head as someone cuffed 
his hands behind him and tied his feet.

"Now. Mulder, no fuss, we wouldn't want to hurt you."

Mulder groaned as they emphasised the point by pulling his arms 
further back.  They pushed him to sit upright.

"That's better. Man to man. Now Agent Mulder you've done remarkably 
well to survive for this long, but I'm afraid our patience is 
wearing a little thin. We've decided that now would be a good time 
for your suicide."

Mulder tensed, anticipating a close range gunshot or a scalpel 
blade. But neither came.

"No Mulder. You've nothing to fear from us. It would be dreadful if 
we made a mistake and that pretty partner. Oh sorry, pretty ex 
partner. Oh sorry, maybe you prefer not to think of her as pretty, 
not after that little scene you made. Well, anyway, we wouldn't 
want her to find anything untoward."

"Like marks on my wrists from the cuffs you mean?"

"Very good, though of course the cuffs are padded. But that would 
have been such an easy mistake. No, you'll do it yourself."

"No."

"Oh you will. We have four little girls. We'll wait forty eight 
hours. If you are dead, they can go home to their parents with no 
bad memories of their little disappearing act. If you are still 
alive, we'll kill the first one. Perhaps send you some gift to 
confirm it, what do you think would be the right momento to send?"

"I don't believe you."

"Yes you do. And if you don't believe us now, you'll believe us in 
forty eight hours time.  We'll leave it another forty eight hours 
and then.... Well you get the picture. You're an intelligent man, 
too intelligent to wait until they are all dead before you believe 
us. You can save them, make your life worth something. Or at least, 
make your death worth something."

"I believe you'll kill them. Why should I believe that you'll let 
them go if I die?"

"You know the standard abduction profile. The kids get sent back. 
We get them back when we need them. Killing them is bad for the 
project plan."

"I'm not suicidal."

"You know Mulder, I actually believe you. But sometime in the next 
few days you will be and your death could be so much more 
worthwhile if you do it soon."

Mulder slumped back in silence. Someone pushed him forwards and he 
felt the crunch as his head hit the floor. He heard the lock on the 
cuffs release. By the time he'd pulled his hands forward and 
released the black drawstring bag from over his head, the room was 
empty.

-------------

MONDAY

Fox Mulder looked at the faces around the office. Would any of them 
be surprised? Probably not. Upset? Maybe, one or two. Guilty? 
Perhaps, some of them.

He'd shipped the four Agents out to Florida. They would do a good 
job. He would have liked to have gone with them. But that just 
wasn't possible. 

He regretted again that he hadn't got this over with yesterday. 
Today was cutting it too fine. It was going to need careful timing 
now. He needed to be confident that he wouldn't be found until 
after the drugs had taken effect. But he had to be sure that he 
would be found early enough that the news would get out that he was 
dead before that 48 hour limit.

If a kid died, because of just some delay getting the news out. 
Well that wasn't worth thinking about. It was probably a 
meaningless gesture anyway. They would do exactly what they wanted 
and his actions would make no difference.

But he'd delayed until today. Why was that? Because it would be 
more dramatic here in the Hoover Building? Because he'd wanted to 
see if the investigation might strike lucky at the last moment and 
save him the trouble? It would be so ironic if he did it and then 
when they came to give him the news that the kids were safe, they 
found his body. Not that it mattered, he'd never worried about 
being embarrassed.

He'd thought a lot about who should find the body. It almost didn't 
make any difference, just so long as it wasn't Dana Scully.

------------

Agent Susan Keane wanted to make amends, needed to make amends. She 
was already in trouble with her boss and it hadn't even got rid of 
her guilty feelings. She'd sent through a note to AD Masters saying 
Mulder had done nothing wrong. Now she had to go and see Mulder and 
apologise in person.

She looked around the office, he was still missing. She checked 
Mulder's schedule. Nothing until 4.30 and his appointment with 
Masters. Then at 5 he was due to start meeting up with the Agents 
again. She looked at her watch, 4 O'Clock now. She'd grab some 
files and go to see him. It was important that she saw him before 
he went to see Masters. She didn't want him to worry anymore.

She headed to the X-Files office, that was his refuge of course.

He was there but he said nothing when she went in. She realised he 
was asleep. She went over to him, preparing to wake him as gently 
as she could, her chance to make amends.

Her gentle touch just made him slump. She jumped back in alarm and 
shook him but he didn't respond, she felt for a pulse and found 
none. She phoned for a medical team.

The empty bottle was on the desk. Sleeping pills. Yes, he was 
having trouble sleeping. They'd done something to him, she 
remembered them saying they'd done something to him, though she 
didn't know what. And now he'd just taken the full bottle. She'd 
done this to him. She'd been the final straw. She'd broken him. 
Driven him to this.

It seemed wrong to her that he should have succumbed to something 
like that, but if it was just the last straw. Then she thought of 
all the other straws he'd been laden with and realised that most of 
them had put there by her bosses. They were to blame. And, what had 
they told him after she'd stopped doing their dirty work? Had they 
offered some sort of deal? Bartered those kids for him. He'd fall 
for that sort of thing, she was sure he would.

By the time the emergency team arrived Susan Keane was fighting 
back hysteria.

------------

Dana Scully's Quantico team were shocked that she'd insisted on 
doing the autopsy herself. How could she? Surely she knew him too 
well. It was only when the ME, who had been just about the first 
person on the death scene, had waved them back that they had 
stopped arguing. He carefully pointed out that Scully needed to be 
absolutely sure for herself it was suicide.

They were even more shocked when she'd sent them all away insisting 
that she would work only with the ME.

She sat quietly in the autopsy room and read for a while.

She heard a murmur from behind her and moved quickly to the table. 
"I'm freezing."

She smiled and then quickly felt guilty. She'd put a foam mat onto 
the stainless steel table. At least she'd remembered that, it would 
have been dangerous for him if she hadn't. But he only had a sheet 
for cover over his shirt, he hadn't worn his jacket in the interest 
of realism. She apologised and went to search for some more 
clothes. When she returned he attempted to sit up.

"How do you feel?"

"Like death warmed up, except not so warm."

"You're ok?"

"I've got a hangover the size of the Empire State Building but I 
don't think anything's damaged. Some bruises. How the hell did that 
happen. Why would someone beat me up after I'm dead?"

"Ah well. Agent Keane found you, she tried to wake you up but just 
succeeding in knocking you over, you banged your head on the desk."

"I wasn't left alone with her for long was I? Remind me to die 
lying down next time."

He pulled on the sweatshirt then perched himself unsteadily on the 
edge of the table and tried to get to his feet. She reached out to 
steady him and was shocked by how quickly he pulled away from her.

He looked apologetically back. "Once bitten, twice shy." He said 
sadly.

"Let me help you."

"You already are." He touched the back of her hand for an instant 
and moved away.

She stood and watched him struggle for balance and walk to the 
chair. He turned to her. "So, what now?"

"Couple of hours. We wait until everyone's gone home. I put you in 
a body bag and we call up an ambulance."

"I hope the safe house isn't another of those dumps."

"Well it's not a safe house exactly."

"It's what then?"

She paused and smiled sheepishly. "It's a chapel of rest, a private 
room. It's consistent with the use of the body bag. And no one will 
be surprised if I hang around there. It's approved to hold bodies 
between post mortem and final release for burial. It'll attract 
less attention than me going to a strange house."

"Couldn't you have pretended that I'd insisted on a Viking burial, 
so you'd taken me back to my apartment to lie in state on the couch 
or something."



END of Part 10
-------------


From jhumby@ctv.es Thu Oct 31 02:37:44 1996
NEW: The Insurance Policy - 11/11 - by Joann Humby
jhumby@iee.org

Legally:
The interesting characters in this story belong to Chris Carter, 
1013 and Fox as brought to life by DD, GA and the XFiles writers. 
I've borrowed them for fun not profit.

PART 11 OF 11 (THE INSURANCE POLICY)


Aside from the ME who was an old, personal friend of Dana Scully 
and AD Skinner, no one else knew about the miraculous survival of 
the Bureau's most unwanted. 

They might need other people in on it later but for now that would 
be enough. Knock out drops and tricks of the trade to mask the 
pulse so only a real expert could find it quickly. And the ME had 
got there very fast, neck and neck with the EMT's in fact

Not much Mulder could do now except wait and see what the other 
Agents turned up. And just send back the odd instruction from 
beyond the grave.

 ------------

Susan Keane was not happy and she needed everyone to know it. The 
mood in VCS was subdued. Mulder was not supposed to crack like 
that. They'd all seen it coming, of course they had. But not that. 
A breakdown maybe. A few months out of commission while the Doctors 
patched him up. 

He didn't seem the type but maybe if there was a type then he did. 
He'd lost his memory, six weeks gone, just like that and they'd 
made him come back to work immediately. And then they'd given him 
that case. The man had lost a sister when he was a kid so they give 
him a child kidnapping case to settle him back into the routine. 
And that stuff that Clarke and Andrews had come back with from 
Florida about what had been done to him. Amazing stuff, scary.

Then there was that spat he had with Dana Scully. No wonder he gave 
in. 

-------

Mulder read the reports from Florida. He couldn't help but wonder 
how Dana Scully had explained to Clarke and Andrews the urgent need 
to find out more about the exact location of the packet of slow 
release drugs that had been implanted to stop him dreaming. At a 
guess she reminded them who the pathologist was and fixed them with 
that look of hers. 

In fact Mulder couldn't help but wonder how Clarke and Andrews had 
got the information at all. He thought he saw Mike Cameron's hands 
pulling the strings.

The FBI Doctor who got called out to deal with the minor surgery 
had been warned he would then have to stay at a safe house for a 
few days afterwards, no contact. He was surprised to see the corpse 
looking so well. Scully carefully pocketed the implanted drug 
capsule as evidence. "Just like slow release fertiliser, they can 
make them take months to come out. I think this looks like it's ten 
weeks worth, it's about half gone."

"That's nice." But he didn't think it was nice at all. He hadn't 
noticed the scar over the implant, what was another scar amongst 
the collection of cuts and bruises he'd woken up with.

The Doctor handed Mulder the newspaper and suggested he go directly 
to page two. He flipped the page and saw a picture. "Argh, I look 
about thirteen years old."

But the shock of the photograph was nothing compared to the 
article. Mulder was seldom lost for words but this one had him 
beat. 

It was to be expected that the media had been interested. The head 
of the FBI team working on a high profile case had killed himself. 
And it was a slow news week. Someone, someone from the FBI had 
recounted the train of events leading to the suicide.

The overstressed Agent suffering from amnesia thrown straight back 
in to lead a highly traumatic case. Was it any wonder he'd buckled? 
The report was all just basic information, well known data in VCS, 
it didn't even mention why Mulder was suffering from amnesia. Even 
so,  the FBI stood accused of effectively killing one of its own 
Agents. And such a young, innocent looking one too.

A fit of embarrassed laughter was the only possible response. Dana 
Scully read the story and started to giggle in sympathy. 

-----------

Another disastrous twist in an already disastrous case. Mulder was 
now causing trouble from the grave. Suicide. People accepted that 
it was suicide but apparently that wasn't good enough. The story in 
the press was already pretty hot. It would only take a little more 
of the build up to be leaked to the press. The involvement of a CIA 
Agent perhaps, or word of an implant of drugs occurring at a 
Government Research Lab. It didn't bear thinking about.

Mulder was dead and now the FBI had reason to want public revenge. 
The temperature was going to rise. People would want a scapegoat. 
The man sat back in his seat. It wasn't going to be him. He'd throw 
some more pawns to the wolves.

They wanted a guy with a blond crewcut? They could have him, not 
that they'd get the charges to stick. But it would give them their 
moment of glory and by the time they would have to let him go, it 
would be old news.

They wanted a deranged Doctor who experimented on FBI Agents. They 
could have one. No problem.

They wanted those kids back to show Mulder hadn't died in vain. 
Wipe away the images of the innocent looking Agent with telegenic 
images of young children. Yes, even that. They'd be returned.

He just hoped that the smokescreen would be enough to give him time 
to cover his tracks. Certainly it would be enough for the FBI to 
lose interest. Now if the same were true for Dana Scully he was 
home free.

----------

Agent Susan Keane nervously scanned the corridor. Her boss was 
going to make her carry the can for the embarrassing publicity, she 
knew it. But she'd done nothing, not yet. All the leaks so far had 
come from ordinary Agents, not people like herself with inside 
knowledge.

So she was surprised when instead of announcing her imminent demise 
he told her she was going to be a hero. She was going to rescue 
four little girls being held by an ex-CIA Agent who was now a fully 
certified maniac with a blond crewcut. 

----------

Mulder had been wondering what to do with the video footage of him 
sleeping. More particularly with the video footage of him being 
held cuffed and with a bag over his head by three men who told him 
it was time for him to do the decent thing and commit suicide.

An interesting video. Better than most home movies. Better than 
some of Andy Warhol's. They'd already extracted the best images 
they could of the three men and distributed them to the Agents 
without explaining where the pictures had come from.

A man with a blond crewcut. Another man that Mulder was pretty sure 
he'd seen in the FBI cafeteria. And a third man, older, more 
distinguished looking, who'd done the talking.

The press were interested, excited by the intrigue of the story of 
his suicide. What would they do with a still from the video? And 
they could save the video footage for later if it didn't work. It 
had potential to be dynamite.

No need to admit outright who the man being held prisoner was. It 
would be enough just to release the still with the FBI's request 
for assistance in identifying the faces and their current 
locations. Scully took a lot of convincing. Skinner was 
surprisingly more amenable.

------------

Agent Susan Keane had an address, all she had to do now was slip it 
in as if it had been supplied as an anonymous tip off.  As it 
turned out she didn't need to, all she had to do was dial it into 
one of the newspapers that had published the photograph. 

She had gagged at the picture. She was pretty sure it was Mulder 
who was the victim. If so then she'd been right, they'd obviously 
offered him some kind of deal. His life for the kids. She'd make 
them pay, after the kids were free.

The newspaper photo provoked a lot of interest and a lot of 
addresses. Some were hoaxes. Some were just look alikes. But Susan 
Keane knew which address she and her partner should visit to do an 
initial check on, she took it from the pile.

---------

Mulder tried to keep himself from pacing the small ante room that 
had become his home for the past three days. His brain was back 
under some sort of control, probably just the synthetic drugs 
having an impact. Too early for the other stuff to have left his 
system and let the normal pattern of  dreams come back. The tests 
on the implanted drugs were labelled by Dana Scully as interesting. 
Mulder had to fight to stop himself screaming at the word.

She casually explained the slightly off beat mix of drugs similar 
to, but different from, the ones the brain produced for itself. Not 
the kind of thing a standard toxicological report would get, they'd 
just look like fragments of the real thing. Clever.

"Good. I'd hate to think they weren't even trying." Mulder had 
muttered in reply.

-----------

Agent Keane and her partner stood on the steps of the warehouse 
building. She smiled at him, "maybe there's a penthouse suite."

"Yeah right."

They couldn't get a reply when they rang the bell. She insisted 
they look through the windows. And she saw it. A tiny raincoat. She 
looked some more and saw the child size pair of boots. She pointed 
out her discovery to her partner. They called for backup. Thirty 
minutes later there were twenty members of a FBI team ready for a 
possible siege.

Two hours later, the siege had ended with no violence. And the 
return of four little girls. And, embarrassingly, no suspect. The 
girls couldn't remember who had taken them or who had kept them 
here, or if they'd been kept somewhere else The girls couldn't 
remember very much at all.

The pictures on the evening news looked very good. Bureau Agents 
armed to the teeth escorting the children to the hospital to meet 
their relieved parents.

The blond man with the crewcut was found several hours later. They 
took him in. But even the optimists found it hard to see where the 
evidence to convict him of anything more than looking tough was 
going to come from.

--------

Soon Mulder could return from the dead. He would be glad to get out 
of the cell he was staying in. The incessant drift of semi 
religious muzak from the neighbouring rooms was sending him stir 
crazy. Why did the FBI have a safe room in a Chapel of Rest anyway? 
Ok, so normally they didn't but someone had owed Skinner a favour.

Mulder smiled a little when he thought about the newspaper reports. 
The kind, generous words from his colleagues. Boy were they going 
to be pissed when he showed up.

----------

Agent Keane went to see her boss. She anticipated his 
congratulations. She'd listen to him and then she'd blow the lid on 
his little game.

He wasn't there. 

She couldn't be sure if he'd run away or if he'd been disposed of. 
But she was quite sure she wasn't going to see him again. There was 
a finality in the note that had been left for her. "Don't come 
back."

----------

Mulder should have felt exultant but he didn't. The return of the 
kids was better than he'd dared hope for. The arrest of two of the 
three men who'd visited him in the night was good but they would 
need to do a lot more work  before they could convict them of 
anything serious. But a videoed assault on a Federal Agent was a 
start, especially given that the Agent was alive to testify the 
video was for real. The diary he'd built up of his missing weeks 
was pretty convincing and so far as he could tell he'd done nothing 
wrong, apart from be stupidly naive. And Agents were still tracking 
down evidence of experimentation at that research lab and on the 
death of the guard.

But the older man was still at large, the one who had actually done 
the threatening. Though maybe he was paying some other way, the 
penalties for failure could be high in his business. And there were 
so many other people involved who wouldn't be brought to trial. An 
unimpressive tip of a depressingly massive iceberg.

But, for Mulder, the most frightening things were the two dead 
bodies, three dead bodies including the security guard. Surely they  
hadn't killed three people just to frame him. He wasn't responsible 
for their deaths was he?

Susan Keane had reassured him on it. The boy had died of an 
accidental drug overdose, just carelessness by his abductors. The 
boy wasn't, after all, the real target of the tests so they got 
sloppy. An unhappy coincidence that had given them some unexpected 
ammunition to use against Mulder. Sarah Deacon, the nanny, had 
remembered things she wasn't supposed to.

The Security Guard had stumbled on a room where a couple of kids 
were being temporarily held and had tried to talk to them. He had 
paid for it with his life when one of the other guards with a 
different agenda had caught him. Mulder's own escape attempt had 
ended with another armful of drugs.
 
It seemed ok.

So when he told the therapist from psychiatric services asked about 
the incidents he could mostly stick to the truth. He'd even 
admitted that he was grateful to all the people who'd helped him. 
All the people he hadn't expected to get help from, but who had 
helped. Mostly unasked for and unanticipated help, gratefully 
received.

Dr Framly, the therapist, asked Mulder about suicidal tendencies. 
He'd feared for his job when he saw the newspaper coverage of 
Mulder's death. Mulder suggested that it wasn't necessary for them 
to meet again and the man had willingly agreed.

--------------------

Mulder tried to make himself invisible as he entered the VCS 
office. Strangely it didn't work. So much for the power of positive 
thinking he mused grimly.

He wasn't sure why he felt quite so embarrassed. Probably something 
to do with the newspaper headline announcing 'Spooky Rises from the 
Grave'. Whoever gave the press his nickname was dead meat. He'd 
find them, he was good at that sort of thing.

Or maybe it was the photo of Dana Scully with her arms around him 
that some paparazzi had taken.

Or maybe it was the way they'd enthusiastically congratulated him 
on his acting skills. They liked the way he'd play it dead cool for 
hours then suddenly flip out. Guaranteeing that they'd all fall for 
the suicide story. And that scene with Dana Scully, brilliant touch 
that.

He gathered together the case files and passed them on to the right 
Agents. Tracked down his own stuff for a return to the Basement. 
Tried not to laugh at the way things had gone missing, ghoulish 
souvenir hunters he thought. Almost flattering, except that people 
had always paid to see freak shows.

-------------------

It was still a slow news week. It wasn't every day the FBI had a 
hero come back from the dead. It was an unmissable opportunity.

Mulder looked at the cameras and the waiting press. His attempt to 
escape the ordeal had been firmly stamped on. AD Masters would 
answer the questions, he could just nod at the appropriate moment. 
The orders couldn't have been more explicit. 

It sounded like an ok idea. Until Masters was grabbed by the 
jugular by a succession of interviewers demanding an explanation of 
why Mulder wasn't allowed to speak for himself. Masters looked at 
him beseechingly and when an almost, barely present, glimmer of 
acquiescence crossed Mulder's face, Masters quickly turned the 
microphone towards him.

"Yes. I am alive. Thanks for noticing." 

Masters grimaced at Mulder's reply to the much shouted, "So you're 
still alive Agent Mulder" catcall that Mulder had decided to treat 
as the first question. Masters relaxed when he realised it seemed 
to have put the audience into a better mood.

"The Bureau deliberately faked the suicide.... Very few people knew 
about it, the absolute minimum.... Yes, it was a demand of the 
kidnappers, we thought it might smoke them out if they thought 
they'd got what they wanted.... Yes, the obituaries were 
embarrassing.... I only intend to answer questions on this specific 
case...."

The replies were careful, diplomatic. 

"You must be pleased with the outcome?"

Mulder paused from the glib one liners. "We have a young boy and a 
young woman dead. Four children traumatised. And four families who 
went through hell. We've caught some of the people involved. We did 
our best and we rescued four people, I'm pleased about that, proud 
of that. But I can't be pleased with the outcome."

The room went quiet for a moment before the volume went up to 
maximum. They had their sound bite for the news.

"Your own role in this was pretty extraordinary. You carried on 
running the case through intermediaries even after your, er, 
death."

Mulder hesitated. If he wasn't on those drugs to damp down his 
responses he'd have run away by now. Even with them he reckoned he 
wasn't going to stick around much longer. "We had a big team on the 
case. Twelve Agents in the core team plus a lot of support from 
elsewhere, including Agent Scully, who is my partner, not an 
'intermediary'." He knew that the statement was not strictly true, 
but if he was going to get mangled in the press tomorrow she could 
get embarrassed with him.

Mulder pushed the microphone back to Masters who announced that any 
further questions should go to Media Relations.

Mulder headed from the table avoiding looking at the cameras. Now 
for a vacation, not in Florida. Now to go sleep. And do some 
dreaming.

Skinner watched Mulder as he left the hall, intercepting him when 
he reached the door. "Definitely recruitment brochure material."

Mulder shrugged, "just topping up my Insurance Policy Sir." It 
would be a long time before they got him in front of another 
camera.



END  
(Ok, guys. There it is. My longest ever story. My first conspiracy 
story. My happiest ending. Thanks for staying with it. Hope you 
enjoyed it. Joann - jhumby@iee.org)