"Mulder."
He listened for a while, saying very little. Alex tried not to let
his curiosity show on his face. He rolled his eyes as Mulder said,
"Yeah, okay. I'll be there."
"Not now."
Mulder nodded, putting the phone back on the nightstand.
"Mulder, it's four a.m. No," he stopped himself. "I'm not having
this conversation again. Do you want me to go with you?"
"Alex, you're sweet, but you're not even in the Bureau
anymore."
"I wish Skinner would give you another partner, already. It's
been weeks."
"I survived a long time before Scully came along, you know.
Nobody had to baby-sit me before."
"Maybe they should have." He moved out of the way of the
pillow that flew at him. "Okay. I worry. So shoot me."
"I stopped doing that months ago." Mulder pulled himself out of
bed, and walked into the bathroom. Alex could hear the toilet flush,
then the water running in the sink. He was pulling on his leather
jacket when Alex turned over again, his mouth watering. Mulder in
leather, and he's leaving. He pulled the covers over himself,
willing his erection down.
"I'm sorry."
"It's okay," Alex said, capturing his face and pulling him into a
kiss. He tried to keep it light, but his mouth had other ideas.
"Wow," Mulder said, pulling away. "How am I supposed to
work after that?"
Alex grinned at him. "You think that's bad?" He flashed his
erection. "How do you think I feel?"
Mulder groaned. "I've got to go."
"Go. I'm not keeping you."
"Maybe you should win the lottery and make me an offer."
Alex laughed. "I'll get right on that."
They kissed again. "Bye, baby," Mulder breathed, and was
gone. Alex snapped out the light and sighed. Even his own hands
weren't arousing him anymore. With Mulder gone, he had no trouble
getting back to sleep.
Dana Scully groaned as she heard the phone ring. She clicked on
the light and handed the receiver to her husband. "It's not for me,"
she said, "none of my cases can use the phone."
He gave her a smile and took the phone. "Skinner."
He listened for a while, a growing look of alarm coming over his
face. He glanced at Dana, who gave him a worried look. Finally he
said, "I'll be right there," and hung up the phone.
"What's he done this time?" she asked.
"I don't know," Walter said. "Virginia State police found his car
abandoned on County Road 6 about half an hour ago."
"Foul play?" she asked, anxiously.
"No sign," he shook his head. "It was just abandoned.
Completely unlocked, even his cell phone was inside. But there was
no sign of him anywhere."
"They didn't call Alex?"
"They found his Bureau id, his wallet, and called the office.
They routed the call out here."
"We'd better call."
"It's only seven, Dana. Let's give it a little while, and see if he
shows up anywhere."
"But maybe he's heard from him, or knows where he is."
"Let me get a little more information, and then we'll call."
Reluctantly, Dana agreed.
At seven-thirty, Alex was lazing over a third cup of coffee. "That's
what you get for being a gainfully employed civilian. I don't have to
be at work until 10." And, truth be told, he was hoping that Mulder
would call before he had to leave. The phone rang beside him. "Hello."
"Alex?"
"Hi, Dana," he said, folding his newspaper. "What's up?"
"Alex, do you know where Mulder is?"
"No. He got a call about three hours ago and tore out of here.
Why?"
"Walter got a call from the state police about thirty minutes ago.
They found Mulder's car abandoned—" The rest of what she said
was drowned out by a sudden buzzing in his head. His stomach felt
as though it dropped completely out of his body.
"Alex?" she asked. "Are you still there?"
He shook his head. "Yeah, I'm still here. Sorry. Where did
they find the car?"
"County Road 6. It's a pretty barren area, just a couple of
farms and not much else."
"Yeah, I've been out there." It was a popular stretch of road for
making illicit drops and collecting information.
"I'm going to go into the office and see if there's anything in his
notes that could tell us what he's been working on. Do you think you
could look around at your place? Maybe on his personal computer,
or in his desk, or something?"
"Sure, Dana. I'll get right on it. Have you called Beth?"
"I was hoping that we wouldn't have to. Let's give it a little bit
more time before we call her. There's really nothing that she can do
to help, and it would just worry her."
"Yeah, okay. Keep in touch, okay?"
"You, too. Don't worry, Alex—we'll find him."
"I know."
As he hung up, he swore to himself. "Yes, we will, Dana. Or I'll
die trying."
He tore through the desk, but there wasn't anything important there—
the usual collection of photos and science magazines. The computer
wasn't proving to be much help, either. He laughed at the naked
women he saw on the screensaver—Can't get over it, can you
Mulder? he thought—but hacking through the files was getting him
nowhere. He even checked for any suspicious e-mail, but there was
nothing that meant anything to him. Mostly just Lone Gunmen stuff.
"Lone Gunman." He played a hunch and gave them a call.
"Frohicke? This is Alex."
"Hey, Alex. What's up?"
"Mulder's missing."
"Again," he said, as if it were an everyday occurrence, which it
used to be. "Any leads?"
"Just County Road 6 in Virginia."
"Let me put some feelers out, okay? I'll get back to you."
"Great, thanks."
Damn. Mulder, where are you? He turned back to the
computer, and ran over the contents of the hard drive one more time,
before methodically running through each of the floppy disks yet
again.
The doorbell rang twice before he realized it wasn't the phone and
put the receiver down. He took a quick look at his watch on the way
to answer it—almost 1130am.
There were two uniformed officers standing outside. His
stomach took another quick trip downwards.
"Yes?" he made himself say.
"Alex Krycek?" the younger of the two asked him.
"That's me," he said.
"I'm Officer Dixon, this is Officer Hayes. We need you to come
to the police station with us and take a look at a body."
"God," he said.
The morgue was cold. All the times that he had been in one, and
he'd never gotten past the temperature. The smell, even, he could
deal with—it was the cold, clamminess of death that bothered him
more than anything else. He had a brief thought that surely they
could arrange for something more—well, homey, in which family
could view the remains of their loved ones. Anything but these
steel-gray walls and fluorescent lights. A plant, maybe a nice throw
rug. He swallowed a near-hysterical giggle before it could escape.
He stood there waiting for five minutes before the attendant
took him into a smaller room, with a single steel gurney in it. The
body was covered in the requisite white sheet, the toe tag peeking
out from under the end. "J. Doe" was all that it said. He was led to
the head of the gurney, and the sheet was pulled back. He took a
deep breath, then opened his eyes, taking in the sight of the recently
deceased.
"Do you know her?" the attendant asked.
He nodded. "Her name is Juda."
He was stuck there answering questions and filling out papers for a
couple of hours. They had no leads on her killer—at least none that
they were sharing with him. And, because the divorce hadn't been
processed yet, he was her next of kin. He seemed to be the only
person in the world who had ever had any contact with her. She had
had no i.d. when they found her, just a piece of paper in her pocket
with his name and address on it. There was no record of her most
recent entry into the United States at all. They managed to trace her
movements back to London, five days previous, but from there it was
a blank. It was turning into something of an international incident,
and that was making the state police more than a little testy. And
everyone grew distinctly hostile when the federal agents muscled into
the room. Alex groaned as he recognized the dark suits and
not-quite-military shoes—one thing you could always tell feds by,
their shoes.
Finally, he was allowed a minute to call Dana.
"Scully," she answered.
"Hi, it's me."
"Alex, where the hell have you been? I've been calling the
apartment for hours."
"You found him."
"No, but I was beginning to think that the two of you
disappeared to the same place. Where are you?"
He described the events of the morning to her.
"Oh, god. Alex, I'm sorry. Do you want me to come over?"
"No. I don't even want to be here, but they won't let me
leave. Do you have any leads on Mulder?"
"Nothing. The files are in even worse shape than when I
started working here. Walter hasn't come up with anything, either."
"Dammit," he said. "Okay, look, I'm probably going to be stuck
here at least two or three more hours, from the looks of it. When I'm
done here, I'll come over to the office and give you a hand."
"Okay. Call me if anything else comes up."
"Will do."
The perfectly nondescript agent walked into the room. Three years
ago, Alex thought, that was me. He gave a small snort. Did I ever
have that bad a haircut?
He peered out of a manila folder. "Agent Krycek," he said, with
a smile, "I'm Agent Thomas. I'm sorry to have to keep you here, but
we need to ask you a few more questions."
Alex's guard went up the minute he saw the smile. "Not 'Agent'
anymore, I'm afraid," he said, folding his hands on the table. "Not for
a while."
"Of course not. I'm sorry."
The "I'm sorry"s were beginning to bother him, too, but he
decided not to push it. "I don't know what else I could possibly tell
you."
"I was wondering," Thomas said, "what you could tell me about
78 Admiral Road."
He kept his face completely neutral, while his insides started a
small jig. "I don't know what you're talking about."
"Oh, I think you do. It's where we found the body of your wife."
He peered into the folder again. "In a storage warehouse at that
address. Do you know what she was doing there?"
He shook his head. "I haven't seen her in years," he said.
"We've been separated for nearly seven years."
"And you've only now divorced? And even that isn't final yet, is
it? Isn't that a little unusual?"
Alex shrugged. "Just never got around to it, I guess."
Thomas nodded. "I hate to contradict you, Mr. Krycek, but we
happen to know that you have been in contact with your wife—I'm
sorry, ex-wife—since then. Quite recently, as a matter of fact." He
sat down in the chair opposite, and gave another benign smile.
"We've been keeping tabs on Miss Zawarska for a few months now,
ever since we had a report that she had entered the country. We try
to keep a close watch on suspected terrorists, ever since the nasty
business with the World Trade Center."
Alex nodded. "Why am I here, if you knew who she was, and
what she was doing here? Why were the police involved at all?"
Thomas looked a little uncomfortable, but covered it nicely.
"The police are generally involved in matters of homicide."
"No, they aren't. Not when to have them involved is a matter of
national security." He leaned forward, giving a dazzling smile. "You
lost her, didn't you? I could have told you that she would be
impossible to keep tabs on."
"Yes," Thomas snapped, "well, it might have been better for her
if we had, wouldn't it? We might have been able to prevent this
unpleasant business."
"I doubt it. Postpone it, perhaps." Alex leaned back again,
never taking his eyes off the other man. "So why am I still here?"
"Where is Agent Mulder?"
He couldn't mask his surprise at that question, and immediately
berated himself, while recovering his composure. "Why don't you call
the Bureau?" he suggested, smoothly.
"Mr. Krycek, you and I both know that Agent Mulder did not
report for work at the Bureau this morning. We both know that he left
your apartment this morning at approximately 4.45am, and since
then, seems to have disappeared. What I want to know, is where he
is now."
Alex shrugged. "I have no idea."
Thomas shook his head. "Don't you realize that things will be
so much better for him if he turns himself in? Don't you think that he
might possibly be in some danger himself, from Miss Zawarska's
employers?"
"I don't know what you're dancing around here," Alex said, "but
he did not have anything to do with this. I don't know where he is,
and I don't know who killed Juda. So, if you have no further
questions—"
Thomas opened his mouth to speak, but there was a knock at
the door, then it opened. Another fed popped his head in. "There's
someone to see you, sir," he said, before being pushed out of the
way. Alex was surprised to see Walter Skinner walk into the
interrogation room.
"Thomas," he said, "I should have known."
"Skinner," the other man acknowledged. "This is not your
jurisdiction. I'd be happy to talk to you outside."
"One of my agents is involved. That makes it my jurisdiction."
He glanced at Alex. "You all right?"
Alex nodded. "Any news?"
Walter shook his head, then turned back to Thomas. "If you're
done with him, we'll be going."
"But I'm not done. I won't be done until I know the
whereabouts of Agent Mulder."
"Krycek," Skinner asked. "Do you know where Agent Mulder
is?"
"No."
Skinner turned to Thomas. "Any other questions?"
Thomas seemed to have a sudden insight into the futility of
asking any further questions at this particular time, so he placed the
folder down on the desk and shook his head. "Not at the moment."
"Great. We'll go, then."
They were halfway out the door when they heard Thomas' next
comment:
"It happens all the time with fags. A boyfriend's jealous rage—"
Thomas never saw the fist that flew at him. When he landed
on the floor, nose bloodied, he looked almost more embarrassed
than hurt, or even outraged. Alex was impressed by the power that
his former boss managed to pack in such a small movement.
"I'd suggest, Agent Thomas, that you keep your small-minded
idiotic comments to yourself," he said, then stormed out the door.
Alex couldn't keep the smile from his face as he followed behind.
They were mostly silent in the car. Alex knew better than to offer any
thanks, and decided to let his body language do the talking. The air
was still heightened, though.
"Has there been any news?"
Skinner shook his head. "They've got the scene roped off
tighter than Thomas' ass," he said. "I can't officially find out
anything."
"And unofficially?"
"Everything sounds bad and worse. It seems as though Mulder
had a meeting with Judalon Zawarska on County Road 6 this
morning at 5.30am. A gas jockey remembers seeing her car five
minutes earlier, headed that way. Mulder apparently stopped for gas
at the station, and then headed in the same direction."
"And Juda's car?"
"Abandoned about five miles from the warehouse. They think
that they met, took her car to the warehouse, Mulder killed her there,
and then abandoned the car."
Alex shook his head. "Pretty cut-and-dried, isn't it?"
Skinner shot him a look. "Do you think it's possible?"
"Absolutely not."
"Good. Did you know that he was meeting her?"
"He didn't tell me a thing, but that's not unusual. He usually
doesn't. This doesn't feel right, though. If he knew that he was
meeting Juda, he would have said something."
"Even if she asked him not to?"
"Yes. It would have gone beyond merely Bureau business, and
we're not keeping any personal secrets anymore." Skinner nodded
again. "I don't think that he knew that she would be there. We don't
even know that they actually met."
"They're going over her car. Hair, fingerprints, whatever—
they'll find something."
"Even if there isn't really anything to find," Alex muttered.
When they got to the Hoover Building and up to Skinner's office, they
were surprised to see both Dana and Beth waiting there.
"Why didn't you call me?" Beth asked, hugging Alex. "I was
worried sick. I was calling all over the place, and I couldn't find
anyone."
"Why were you calling?"
"Fox and I had an appointment with Dr. Hanson at twelve,
remember?"
Alex groaned. "I forgot all about that. Mulder was even talking
about it last night at dinner. He was glad that you'd agreed to go
back."
"Yeah, well, I waited in the waiting room as long as possible,
then went home."
"You didn't go in by yourself?"
She shook her head. "The doctor didn't show up, either. His
receptionist tried to get a hold of him, but didn't have any luck. She's
supposed to call when he comes in and set up another appointment.
I couldn't get a hold of anyone, though, and when I called the office
and Dana answered, I knew there was something wrong." She
looked at all of their faces. "Tell me."
Alex took a deep breath and related, in sketchy detail, all that
they knew.
"Jesus," Beth said. "But this has happened to him before, and
he's always been okay, right?"
Alex nodded. "Of course. He's got more lives than a cat."
Dana hesitated a moment before turning to her husband.
"They threw me out of the office," she said, pursing her lips.
"What!" he seethed. "Who?"
"InSec," she said. "They're taking over the investigation. They
seem to have authorization over everything. They've sealed
everything off, and they're going over it with a fine-tooth comb.
Mulder's going to be furious—they've taken away nearly all of his
files."
"InSec?" Beth mouthed at Alex.
"Internal Security," he said, pulling her away from the other two.
"An internal investigation section of the government. They oversee
all of the various governmental branches—FBI, CIA, everyone, pretty
much. We generally call them InSects."
She laughed, mirthlessly. "I can see why."
Skinner was on the phone, talking quietly but firmly to
whomever was on the other end. "I want you to tell me who the hell
has given you authorization to enter the office of one of my agents
and remove official documents. I want you to tell me what the hell is
going on here—" He listened for a moment. "I don't think you realize
who you are talking to." He listened a little longer, then slammed
down the phone. "I'm going over there. I'm not getting anywhere on
the phone."
"Will he see you?" Dana asked.
"He damn well better," Walter said, shrugging into his coat.
"This is so far beyond normal InSec policy that Amendments to the
Constitution couldn't cover it." He kissed her on the cheek. "I'll call
you, I promise. Call me if you find out anything."
She nodded. "Give 'em hell."
When he had left, she turned to Alex and Beth. "Feel like doing
some boring investigating?"
"What do you have in mind?"
She reached into her purse and pulled out a box of computer
disks. "I managed to snag this before the InSects came in. It's the
only thing I didn't get a chance to take at least a glance at this
morning."
Alex smiled. "Let's go to my place," he said, holding out a
hand.
They walked into the apartment, and Alex turned on the lights. It was
nearly dinnertime, so Beth offered to cook, while Dana booted up the
computer. Alex switched on the answering machine on the way by.
There were several messages from Dana, four from Beth, and one
from Frohicke.
**Sorry, Alex—haven't seen or heard anything about our mutual
friend. Call in if you hear anything, we'll keep scouting.**
He changed his clothes, then came out to sit beside Dana at
the computer. "Any luck?"
"Not so far," she said. "It seems to be mostly casefiles. Some
of them are pretty old—ones that we worked on about a year and a
half ago. Stuff about Cancerman, the consortium, even stuff about
you."
"Really?" Alex asked. "What about me?"
"Um, Alex," Dana said, with a grin. "I really don't think you
want to read some of this stuff. Mulder was a little, uh, upset
during some of his entries."
Alex grinned. "Oh, good, blackmail. Let me see."
Beth came out, wiping her hands on a towel. "Anything
interesting?"
Alex smiled at her. "Interesting, yes—helpful, not so far."
She glanced at the screen, then went to the door to retrieve the
late edition of the newspaper. "Do you suppose there's anything
about Juda in here?"
"I doubt it." He thought again about what he hadn't told Agent
Thomas about 78 Admiral Road, and the warehouse. It was the
warehouse Juda had asked him for information about, that had
deposited them into each other's lives after so long.
Beth sat on the couch and pored over the paper. He looked at
the computer screen as Dana brought up another directory.
"Oh my god," Beth suddenly said. They both turned to look at
her. She looked at them, in shock.
"What is it?" Dana asked, going over to her.
"Dr. Hanson's dead," she said, pointing to an article in the first
section of the paper. Dana read aloud:
"Respected hypnotherapist Dr. Julius Hanson was
found dead this afternoon in his Mission Boulevard
apartment by a neighbour who reported hearing gunfire.
There was no sign of forced entry, and the police are
tentatively ruling it a suicide. Dr. Hanson was 47 year
old..."
Dana and Alex exchanged glances.
"This is a little bit too much in one day just to be coincidental,
isn't it?" Beth said, quietly.
"I'd better call Walter," Dana said.
"Oh, god," Beth said, as Alex came and hugged her. "He is
going to be all right, isn't he?"
"We'll make sure of it," he said. "But I don't want you going
home alone tonight. Until we know what's going on, I'm your new
best friend. You're staying here, and we'll pick up some of your
clothes in the morning."
She nodded. "Alex, I'm scared."
"Don't be. Believe me, we've been through worse than this, all
of us, and we've survived. We'll be fine." He hugged her again.
Walter stared across the table at the row of faces. He had an
uncomfortable feeling of deja vu—it was the consortium, all over
again. Only it wasn't.
"You have no right to take Bureau files—"
"Believe me, Assistant Director Skinner, we have the right to
take anything that we need to complete our investigation." The man
sitting in the middle of the table leaned forward. "Or don't you want
us to find Agent Mulder?"
"Of course I want him found," Walter said, trying to remain
calm. "I also want information. I won't be kept in the dark about this
investigation."
"We wouldn't dream of it." The man leaned over, brandishing a
package of cigarettes. "Would you care for one?"
Walter stared at it, then at the man, his eyes narrowing behind
his glasses. He shook his head.
The man shrugged, then fished out a single Morley cigarette.
Walter
by Mona Ramsey
"Does that thing ring during the day at all?" Alex groaned, fumbling
for the light, as Mulder reached for his cell phone.
