Comments, complaints and just plain talk to sheryl_martin@tvo.org
My mother insists on watching one show before The Show; and since she's still bigger than me, she gets it. So I watch it. And I started to like it. And then I thought about taking out the commercials and switching networks. Talk about extremes...
Credits: Tess, Monica and Andrew are from the wonderful CBS television series "Touched By An Angel" - and I hope I managed to do an adequate job in portraying them... in short, they're angels... grin... and they try to help people...
Jackie, well... she's still mine... tho I keep trying to lock her out... but then she kicks the door in... sigh...
Summary: A heavenly visitation brings to the surface worries and fears.Rating: G, Story... probably paranormal for the simple fact that I have angels in it... snicker... Spoilers: Memento Mori spoilers, natch...
Agents and Angels (1/3)(X Files/TBAA Crossover)by Sheryl Martin
Walter Skinner strode along the hallway; nodding automatically at the other agents as they gave him a respectful glance or shake of the head. His eyes didn't leave the open folder in his hand; nor did he slow his pace until he reached the open viewing bay above the gymnasium.
Taking a deep breath, he closed the folder and pinched the bridge of his nose; pushing his glasses up in the process. Assistant Director might be fun in name; but it meant more trouble than anyone ever knew. And there were plenty of days when he wondered why he had ever wanted any more responsibility than he had as a junior agent; clocking in and out at regular hours.
Looking down onto the floor, he frowned. Off to one corner on the practise mats stood two women; putting on protective equipment in preparation for a sparring match. One sported a Quantico sweatshirt over her grey track pants; the other a bright blue Toronto Blue Jays shirt to go with her black sweats.
He recognised them immediately.
Scully.
And St. George, their Canadian friend.
The shorter of the two women reached for the red padded mitts, slipping them over her hands. The foot protectors were already on; along with the thick padded head protectors. The other woman turned to one side, discreetly slipping a mouthpiece in; then turning back to face her opponent. With a wave of her own padded hands, she urged her on.
He watched approvingly for a few minutes as Scully launched a basic set of attacks; aiming for St. George's side and torso area, kicks and punches in a seasoned flurry of activity. For her part, the Canadian wasn't returning anything heavy, just the usual blocks and deterrents.
"Sir? I heard that you wanted to see me?" The voice startled Skinner; a small reprimanding voice in the back of his mind berating him for letting Mulder sneak up on his like that.
"Yes." Turning away from the window, he handed Mulder the folder. "I think you need to rethink this report. At least before I submit it to higher approval."
With a snort of disgust Mulder took it; slamming it down by his side. "They just don't ever want the truth, do they? They only want the truth as they want to see it." He glanced at the window. "Anything interesting?" His voice trailed up; as if secretly thrilled at catching Skinner doing anything as nefarious as watching women at play.
"Scully." The one word brought Mulder to full alertness. "How has she been feeling lately?"
The tall man shrugged. "As good as she ever has. Some good days, some bad days." He looked down onto the floor. "She's giving St. George a good beating, isn't she?"
Skinner nodded. "And you know that's not likely unless she's giving Scully the opening for some reason."
Jackie St. George winced as the padded foot slammed into her left side again. There was definitely going to be a need for a hot bath tonight. Maybe the Wookie would oblige and help out again...
Wham!
She chuckled, shaking her head where the blow had landed. That's what you get for thinking too much, Jackie. If it hadn't been for the special mouthpiece, Dana Scully would be in a helluva spot right now.
The punch came in, easily blocked. But the Canadian frowned, seeing a problem in her opponent's technique.
Not that there was anything wrong. But she was getting stronger, not weaker.
For her part, Scully was just warming up. Taking a deep breath and ignoring the pounding pain in her head, she unleashed another flurry of blows; enjoying the sweat as it ran down her back and pooled at the base of her spine.
"What do you see?" The Africian-American woman sat quietly on the bench to the left of the sparring mats; looking at her protege.
Brushing some of the long red hair out of her face, Monica stared at the pair intently before speaking; her Irish accent thick and calming. "Two women having some practise. Although I never understood what beating each other up was all about..."
"Look closer." Tess demanded, her eyes intense and deep.
"She's not really doing much to fight back, is she?" Lifting a hand, Monica waved at St. George, who was presently being pushed back by a series of blows. "I thought the idea of practise was to let both people get a chance of improving themselves."
"Exactly." The older woman nodded. "And..."
"She's losing control?" Monica looked to Tess for approval and finding it. "She's not fighting properly..."
"She's losing control." Skinner mumbled under his breath. The two men had stood silently at the viewing window, taking in the sight with a unmentioned degree of interest at seeing the two women spar.
Mulder frowned. "Scully's really giving her a beating..."
Suddenly the petite redhead swung a roundhouse punch; connecting cleanly with St. George's jaw. With a grunt she dropped to the ground, shaking her head as the padding took most of the sting away. Putting up her hands in surrender, she spat out the mouthpiece.
"Man, Dana... take it easy on me, hmm? I'm not..." She stopped, seeing her friend start to waver back and forth on unsteady legs. "Dana?"
Scully pulled off her head protector with shaking hands, tossing the mitts to one side. Then she fell to her knees, rolling onto the mat with the limpness of exhaustion.
"I'll call for..." Skinner turned towards the other agent only to find him already sprinting down the corridor towards the stairwell. Yanking his vision back to the gym; the older man could see the scarlet trail under her nose from where he stood.
"She's sick." Monica said quietly as the tall man dashed across the floor; dropping to his knees and cradling the fallen woman.
"That's obvious." Tess snorted. St. George had pulled off her own equipment and was now kneeling by the unconscious Scully, panic written on her face.
"But we aren't here to heal her, are we?"
"No. That's God's choice, not ours. We're here to do something more important."
"What's that?"
"Give them faith to keep going." Tess gestured to the trio on the dark blue mats. "Because right now they're all very mad and frustrated - and something's got to give."
*******
"Sir..."
"Agent Scully, I'm not open for discussion on this topic." Skinner paced back and forth in front of the small first aid room. The nurse on call had discreetly left them after seeing the Assistant Director's face.
"I'm fine." Swinging her feet off the small cot, the woman got to her feet. "I just got overworked out there."
"And just about gave Agent Mulder and myself a heart attack. Not to mention what St. George would have done if you had died out there." His voice rose in intensity. "Three days bed rest. At home. And I'm ordering a home care nurse through the medical insurance to make sure that you're fine."
"I'm perfectly capable of taking care of myself." The flush rose to Scully's cheeks, and she flared at the man. "I've been doing fine for weeks, and I don't see how any nurse..."
"Agent Scully, I don't think you appreciate my position." Skinner ground his teeth together as he spoke. "If you don't allow this small infringement on your life I will be forced to take it to higher authorities and inform them of your medical condition. This way I can put you back in the field in one week; with Mulder. If you make me tell anyone else you might never work in the basement again." He stopped and stared at her. "Your choice."
Gritting her teeth, the redhead nodded. "Three days."
Skinner nodded. "And no one knows anything. I'll mark it off as used sick days and vacation time."
"Yes sir." Spitting out the words, she got to her feet and strode past him.
"Scully?" He caught her as she entered the hall, making her stop and look back. With a slight sense of embarrassment, the older man looked at the floor before meeting her gaze again. "You looked good out there. And I just want to make sure that you keep looking good. For a long time."
"Yes, sir." Her tone softened. "Thank you, sir."
*********
Wrapping the thick terrycloth robe around her, Dana padded out to the kitchen; plugging the kettle in for some herbal tea. A hot shower had eased most of the pain out of her strained muscles and washed away the dried blood from her upper lip.
Biting her lower lip, she thought over Skinner's words; admitting to herself that he was right.
She had to be more careful.
The least of which being playing on the gym floor. She wished she could blame it on St. George, but she had been the one to suggest a workout; her Canadian friend agreeing out of a combination of guilt and worry and a need to make sure Dana Scully was happy.
Of course, now she had all three of them upset and worried. Mulder had disappeared back to his office, mumbling something about visiting her later. And Skinner had sent St. George back to the Canadian Embassy so fast that her equipment was probably still sitting on the floor. Probably to avoid her making a scene.
Not that Skinner wasn't frantic enough for all of them.
Dipping the tea bag in the cup of hot water, she ruminated on why she had lashed out at the woman; disregarding her own safety for the sake of working out her pain and frustration. This wasn't in the field; no one would have minded if she had just stopped. Out there it was for real and she wanted to be out there with her partner.
So why had she almost killed herself in the gym?
The gentle knock shattered her introspective wanderings. Making her way to the door; she peered through the spy hole.
A woman.
Must be that dammed home care thing Skinner had told her about.
With a tired sigh, the redhead opened the door.
"You must be Dana." The young woman extended a hand, smiling broadly. Her voice held the Irish accent that reminded Scully automatically of her father, although he hadn't been the original Scully to come over. "My name is Monica."
*********
For one of the few times in his life, Fox Mulder was truly embarrassed with himself. And it felt extremely bad.
He had put himself into situations where he knew he would be held up to ridicule; joked at and scoffed, his nickname "Spooky" tossed around like a badge to label his theories and his beliefs as outlandish and strange. But he hadn't ever felt embarrassed for holding those thoughts and theories. Instead he fought back and was usually proven right, to a degree. And that negated any feelings of exposure or shame.
But this was different. For some reason he felt so totally blackened by the shame of not being with Scully right now that he could barely keep his head up.
He knew she was fine; knew that Skinner had seen to that. But he hadn't been there in the nurses' office; babbling something about having to check on her purse and wandering down the corridor when she walked out. He remembered saying something about checking in on her later, before he bolted for the basement office and sanctuary.
She had been hurt. He had seen it in her eyes.
And she was right. He had left her at the worst possible time. Not for the sake of a case or for following up on a clue or anything like that. He had just been too scared to see her.
He closed his eyes.
He was afraid.
So afraid of losing her that he almost couldn't stand to see her sometimes; his mind imagining that desk being permanently vacant.
The file on his desk listed possible alternative medical theories for dealing with her ailment. But he knew she'd scoff at most of them. Mind you, so did he.
But it was a start.
The sharp rap on the doorframe startled him. Looking up, he stared at the heavyset African-American woman standing in front of him; her hands crossed in front of her. A touch of white in her hair showed that she was definitely older than he was.
"Fox Mulder?" She shook his hand hard. "I'm Tess. I've been assigned to do your audit from Internal Affairs over the next week or so."
He blinked. "Audit?" The word croaked through tight lips.
"It seems that you've had a few... discrepancies in your finances and the receipts submitted. Assistant Director Skinner thought that over the next little while you would be available to work with me to scout out the irregularities." Her eyes bored into his. "I assume you won't be busy doing anything else?"
Mulder swallowed. "Ah... not now."
*********
"Can I get you some coffee?" Scully walked into the kitchen, reaching for a mug. The slender woman sat at the table, smiling.
"I don't suppose you'd have an espresso machine?" Her voice lilted up optimistically, then fell as the redhead chuckled.
"Can't say that I do." She reached for the coffeemaker, flipping the switch on. "I've been too busy to worry about caffeine."
"Well, I've tried to cut down to a cup a day. But it's hard." Monica admitted.
"I see." Walking around the table, the woman sat opposite her. "Look, Monica... I don't know how much you were told about me, but I'm willing to just sign your timesheet and let you go on your way - just drop by every morning and then take a vacation." Sitting back in her chair, Dana sighed. "I don't even know why Skinner did this."
"Well, I can't do that." Monica smiled. "See, that would be lying, and I can't do that. I'm assigned to come in and spend every day with you; or at least six hours. Even if that's only to watch television with you; or go to the park or to the hospital, that's my job." She could see the resentment on Dana's face. "And I know that you're very ill. And your work in the Bureau. I was fully briefed before I came over."
"Oh." Dana couldn't think of a suitable retort. Instead, she got to her feet and headed for the coffeemaker. "So you're saying that I'm stuck with you no matter what?"
"I don't like to think of it as 'being stuck with'. Let's call it 'getting to know each other'."
"Do you know what I have?" Scully put it plainly. "I have..." Her throat closed up on her. "I have a terminal illness, possibly. And I don't like being forced to rest like this. I have work to do."
"And so do I." The woman returned just as forcibly. "Why don't we try to do both our jobs?"
With a shake of her head Dana handed Monica the mug of coffee.
The phone rang, breaking the tension. Picking up the receiver, Scully smiled at the familiar voice.
"Hey, woman - I was thinking about getting some Jackie Chan films and improving on your technique - how about I come over..." St. George's voice was calm, but strained.
"Ah... not tonight." Scully turned and looked at the seated woman. "I've got company."
"Mulder beat me there already?"
"No, the home care nurse." Dana could feel the tension coming off the phone in waves. "She's been sent by Skinner to take care of me for the next little while."
"I thought I was going to do that." Jackie's voice sounded hurt. "I mean, Rosie's out of town visiting her relatives in California, and Marty said that he wouldn't mind..."
"It's okay." Scully forced a smile onto her face. "You don't get enough time with him as it is; and Skinner put this as part of my getting back on duty full-time. And Monica seems determined to follow through with this." The subject of her sentence nodded in agreement.
Jackie paused, then continued with obvious worry. "Is she okay?"
Dana knew what she meant. "She's been cleared through the Bureau."
"That doesn't mean anything to me."
"I'll call you later; promise. And I'll be fine."
"Okay." She grumbled. "Just call if she's doing anything strange. I'll run her through Interpol and our databases. And give her to the Gunmen if I have to."
"Fine. I'll talk to you later." Hanging up the phone, Dana turned to Monica and tried to smile. "Jackie's a bit suspicious of new people."
"She's just being a good friend. And I can't blame her. I've had a few experiences where things weren't as they seem either."
******
Mulder felt like someone was slowly extracting his brain through his nasal cavities. And it wasn't getting any better. Getting to his feet slowly from where he had been crouching over the bottom drawer of the file cabinet, he handed a thick folder to the woman sitting behind the desk. What used to be his desk.
"There's the last of them." Mulder paused. "I know you've got clearance for the files here, but I have to warn you that you might find some of our cases rather... unusual."
Tess looked at him sternly. "Are you insinuating that I might not believe some of the work you and your partner have done?"
"No..."
"Then why assume that I wouldn't believe you?"
"Because..." He sputtered, suddenly selfaware. "Because not many people do."
"Well, I'm not 'many people'." She snorted. "And you're not the only one who has seen odd things, Agent Mulder." Looking at her watch, she got to her feet. "I'm out of here for the day. I'll expect you back here in the morning to continue the review."
"Right." Mulder muttered, grateful to get his seat back. "See you then."
"Yes." Tess swept out the door in a graceful movement unlike any woman he had ever met. Not that he had ever met a woman like her. Suppressing a shudder, he looked at the time.
He barely had time to make it to Scully's and then home - pick up some pizza on the way so he wouldn't have to deal with the disaster commonly referred to as his kitchen.
And then another day without Scully.
This was going to be hell.
***********
Marty approached the apartment, whistling a jaunty tune. A whole week in town had been hard to arrange, but he had managed it. Jackie must have been tied up at work to not be there at the airport, but that didn't surprise him. There wasn't much left about his fiance that did. Taking the keys out of his pocket, he paused at the door.
Inside he heard the ominous sounds of crashing and cursing; the thick thump of books falling and the tinkle of broken glass.
Either she was very, very upset or she was being robbed. And if the latter, then they better head for the Mexican border before they got caught. Suddenly the sounds disappeared. Slipping his key in the lock, he cautiously opened the door, peering around the corner.
In a word, the apartment was trashed. The two bookcases had been pulled away from the wall; the contents strewn across the floor amid the shatter remains of what might have been coffee mugs or plates or something.
And off in the far corner, curled up in a ball and sobbing, sat St. George.
Gingerly making his way through the disaster area, he knelt by her; brushing away the long hair where it had stuck to her wet skin.
"What's up?" He whispered, his voice betraying his worry.
"Dana..." She put the palm of her hand to her forehead, sniffling. "We were sparring, and..."
"You were what?" His voice rose a few octaves in shock. "I didn't think she was up to that - you know..."
"She isn't. Wasn't." The woman sniffled again. "She asked me to let her do a workout, and I let her do it all - didn't work her half as hard as I could have. Just took the shots."
"I see." He ran a finger down her exposed side; along the purple/black bruise extending under the sweatshirt. "I'm assuming there's plenty more of these."
"She... nosebleed..." Jackie's voice trailed off as she mumbled. "Okay now, but it was still scary..." Suddenly an arm lashed out, slamming into the wall with intense force. Marty flinched as the fist withdrew slowly; leaving a deep hole in the wall. "I shouldn't have done it."
"Love, you can't control Scully. Hell, Mulder can't do it and he's been with her longer." This forced a chuckle from the distraught woman. "You know what you need?"
A bout of giggles hit St. George; her hands over her face as she chortled.
"You've been hanging around Mulder too long." He said accusingly. "I'll run a bubble bath and while you're in soaking I'll reassemble your living room. And order the pizza."
"I can't lose her, Marty." She pulled her hands away from her face, suddenly serious. "Everything I care about keeps being taken from me. Everything."
"Not me." He ran a finger down her cheek. Getting to his feet, he headed for the bathroom.
"Not yet." She stared after him, whispering to the empty room.
*********
Mulder rapped gently at the door, checking his watch again. It was late, but they had never lived in real time before.
"Mulder, it's late." She chuckled, looking at the pizza box he balanced precariously in his hands. "And I've already eaten."
"More for me, then." He walked past her. "So... feeling better?"
"I'm fine." Crossing her arms in front of her, she shrugged. "Skinner sent over a home care nurse."
"You're kidding." Mulder said through a mouthful of pepperoni. "For you?"
Scully nodded, sitting down opposite him and entwining her fingers. "Part of the deal to have me get back into the field. He's being careful."
"Well, one of us has to be." He mumbled before swallowing. "Want to tell me what the hell that sparring match was all about?"
"I was just..." She swiped at a loose red lock hanging just at the edge of one eye. "I just wanted to work out and Jackie said that she'd play punching bag for me..."
"And you scared the hell out of her and Skinner."
Getting to her feet, she paced back and forth. "Mulder, it had nothing to do with you or Skinner or even St. George. I just need to see what my limits are and then see if I can keep pushing them. I have to be able to hold my own out there with you." "No, you don't." Standing up, he tossed the crust back into the pizza box. "You don't have to be strong when you don't want to be or can't be." His voice went soft, understanding. "I know you can handle yourself out there when you have to. Hell, you do it better than I do sometimes. But you're sick, very sick..." He couldn't force the c-word past his throat. "Mulder, it's important to me to do this. And while I appreciate your concern and Skinner's and St. George's; the decision is mine and mine alone to make." She stood in front of him, looking up defiantly. "You can't put me in a box and treat me like a china doll." "Scully..." "I'm really tired, Mulder." Dragging a hand over her face, she yawned. "How about we take this up again tomorrow?" The pale pasty colour on her face confirmed her words. Nodding, Mulder silently put the rest of the pizza in the kitchen and headed for the door. "Call me if you need anything." He said quietly as she began to close the door behind him. "I promise." "Anything." "I said, I promise." She smiled. "'Night, Mulder." *********** In the darkness she could feel it pulsating behind her closed eyes; imagine it slowly growing and invading that which was Dana Katherine Scully. She could hear the strained breathing; feel the pounding of the blood as it continued to flow through her veins at least for a bit longer. God, she was scared. *********** He lay on the couch, limbs sprawled out at awkward angles as he stared at the ceiling and waited for dawn. The familiar water stains and peeling paint didn't cover the nausea that rolled about in the pit of his being. Taking a deep breath, he wiped his eyes dry and turned to look at the glowing images on the television screen. *********** She thrashed her way awake; restrained gently by another's arms. Gulping for air, she sighed and tried to forget the memories that haunted her dreams; of the deaths she had seen and expected to see. Stretching out a hand, she felt the cool metal of the revolver on the night table and shuddered. ********** Opening the door, Marty stared at the young woman. "Yes?" "Oh, you must be Marty." She shook his hand lightly. "I've come to see Jackie. My name's Monica - I'm the home care worker with Dana." "Ah..." Stepping aside to let her into the small apartment, the man paused. "Jackie's just getting dressed - but have a seat. Would you like some coffee?" The woman paused, then shook her head. "No, thank you." Passing by to pick up his own glass of pop, Marty glanced at her. Young, long dark red flowing hair over her shoulders, quite beautiful. Must be something wrong somewhere. "I'll be out in a second, wook." A voice called from the bedroom. "This blasted hair just bloody well won't braid and I don't think I have the patience for it today..." Striding out with the loose hair falling over one shoulder, she paused at seeing the woman seated on her couch. "Hello..." Her eyes went to Marty for an explanation. "Ah, this is Monica - Dana's worker. She just dropped by..." Marty shrugged. "I'll get your tea." "Okay..." Snapping the elastic around her hair and tossing it back in a ponytail, she stared at the woman. "I wasn't under the impression that nurses made visits to friends of their patients." "Well, we usually don't." Monica smiled. "But Dana told me that she wanted to sleep in until ten; and we usually try to learn as much about the patient's friends to get all sides of the picture in relation to the illness." "And she gave you my name and apartment?" "She referred to you a lot. And that's usually a good sign of a close friend." "Right." Sitting down in the chair, St. George took the cup of tea from her fiance and nodded. "So - what do you want to know?" "When do the two of you plan to get married?" Marty blinked. "That's relevant to Dana's care?" Putting a hand on Jackie's shoulder, he chuckled. "Maybe in a year or so. When things calm down enough and we're sure the time is right." "But when will you know?" The bright eyes searched the couple's. "I mean, from what Dana told me anything could happen..." St. George sat up straight, leaning forward. "Look, I'll talk to you about Dana and her sickness and what we can do to help her - I'm not going to let you dissect my relationship or..." She felt the calming hand on her shoulder pulling her back. "I worry." Marty admitted. "But she does what she does. It's a part of her that I can't cut out because it is what she is." "I see." Monica nodded. "Like Dana being a doctor and an agent?" "Probably." Jackie grudgingly admitted. "Although I think she should take it easy at times..." "But it's what she is." Monica repeated back. "And if she's going to continue doing her job, you have to respect that choice." "But I don't have to like it." She snapped at the woman. "Mulder doesn't like it; neither does Walter. And her mother..." Closing her eyes, the Canadian sat back. "She took it kinda badly." "Because Dana didn't tell her at first. Because she was afraid that her mother would try to protect her from the rest of the world, take her home with her and keep the rest of you away and what you do." "You don't know that." Jackie retorted. "But you think that's what she would have done." "Maybe." Jackie sighed. "So what did you want to talk about?" "What we just did." "I don't understand." "You will." Reaching over, Monica patted Jackie's knee as she got up. "Just think on it for a bit and then come over to visit her. She needs her friends." ******** end of part one...