By: Sara Tanner Category: X, A, MSR Spoilers: A couple thrown in there, for FTF, Detour, maybe some others. Summary: After being contacted by an old friend of Mulder's, the agents set out on an adventure in Cape Town, South Africa. Disclaimer: They're not mine, ok?
Notes: This was a shorter story I completed in 2000, I believe. I was never quite happy with how short it was. I had always thought it would make a more appropriate novel, as the story seemed brief and rushed. As of recent, I decided to take it back out and rehash it out to fulfill my dream for it.
There was quite a bit of research that went into the original story. The myth of Umlindi Wemingizimu is real, and has been researched prior to the beginning of the story. The research agency featured in the story, to avoid any possible political overtone or confusion, is fictional, as are all the original characters.
I'm through most of the story, and will be posting in increments as often as possible ( I won't dangle it out unnecessarily). I simply have yet to finish editing and getting all the ducks in a row.
"Umlindi Wemingizimu: Watcher of the South"
Part I:
Table Mountain Cape Town, South Africa March 10, 2001
The sun was quickly setting over
the lush land of Table Mountain. The
pink glow settling over it's peak cast
eerie shadows around the mountain's
healthy shrubbery. It was stunning, though,
as the sky was clear, and the air around
the mountain began to still, as if calming
for bed time. The mountain was almost
completely surrounded by water, placid and
lapping around the town lying quiet at the
foot of the looming but benevolent
mountain.
Nestled in a small, outcropped
clearing of the mountain, was a cluster
of ten large tents, each vacant. Their
members were all huddled around a
slowly waning fire, each hoping to
catch one more rush of warmth before
the cool night set in. The tension in
the air around the men and women was
thick, and it was clear that no one
dared speak. All were clearly engrossed
in their personal thought. Most sat
staring into the fire, or at the ground.
A good few sat hunched with anger in
their shoulders and in the puffing
breaths.
One man slowly stood up. He was slightly older than the rest of the group, his hair gray, and wrinkles settling around a pair of troubled, but friendly eyes. He diverted his gaze, unable to face the crowd of upset eyes boring holes into him. He sighed as he tried to think of some way to appease the group.
"I am truly sorry, ladies and gentlemen. I know how much this expedition meant to you. But you all must know, I am not responsible for this decision." The man explained, nervously stuttering. "From the word I've gotten, there simply was not enough funding for the expedition to continue. You all must know that it is not the fault of anyone here." "Dr. Pierce," another, younger man stood, stopping the professor before he turned away. "We understand."
The professor nodded, flashing a tentative and apologetic grimace, before turning back to his tent. None of the observation team spoke before following the professor's example, and each headed back to their own tents, looking forward to a good night's sleep.
The professor found it fitting that, as exhausted as he was, sleep was apparently not in the cards this particular evening. The day's events troubled him deeply. The team had been observing the wild life on Table Mountain for over two months, only to be suddenly ordered by headquarters to discontinue their expedition immediately and indefinitely.
"Damn headquarters..." the professor muttered under his breath.
To the professor, the declaration that there simply was not enough money seemed cheap and easy. Pierce had never been a particularly paranoid man, but he had a strong feeling that someone simply didn't want them there. In fact, his gut had felt that the expedition was cursed from the beginning. He'd won a long struggle to run another expedition, only to battle falling team member numbers, illness, and now this.
Pierce snorted, "Damn it...".
A loud rustling outside his tent abruptly interrupted his thoughts. The professor's eyes widened and he was momentarily overtaken by thoughts of the many creatures that could possible be making themselves comfortable outside his tent. The professor grew more concerned as he heard a low rumble and moan seemingly coming from everywhere at once, underneath him, outside the tend, and all around him. The wind had begun to pick up, and it whistled around his tent flap, threatening to flip it over.
The professor could hear his team
members' moans as they awoke. His fear
was quickly escalating into panic. He
was beginning to fear for his team. As
he heard them awake, he could hear
myriad comments make their way over to
him. They were as confused and frightened
as he was. Despite his reluctance, the
professor quickly lit his lantern and
drew down the zipper of his tent. His
heart beat wildly in his ribcage, and
he felt somewhat dizzy and faint.
Upon opening the flap, he was
struck with a forceful rush of wind;
almost knocking him back onto his
heals. The professor brought his hands
up to his eyes, protecting himself from
the flying dust and various debris.
A sudden bright flash of light
shone over the mountain, and all Dr.
Pierce could do was scream, as he felt
some invisible force pin him to the
ground. He felt as though his skin was
being pulled off. The light waned and all
he heard was an anguished moan before
his world turned black.
FBI Headquarters
Washington DC
March 17,2001
Washington DC was certainly ready for spring. The sky was a striking blue, and there was not a cloud to be found. Tourists bounced along the streets wearing the ubiquitous tan shorts and Hawaiian-style shirts left over from last year's vacation. Their cameras were always poised and on the ready, hanging from their necks, or nestled in their fanny packs, ready to catch an everlasting glimpse of the wonder that is the Nation's Capital.
The bustlings of the world were of little
consequence to the lone office nestled in
the bowels of the J. Edgar Hoover building,
however. The office heard no traffic and
scarcely saw sunlight. The only connection
the room had to the outside world was its
uncanny ability to ignore the central air
unit of the Hoover building and manage
to mimic the outside weather with heart and
soul. The office was alternately sweltering
in the summer, and frigid in the winter. It
was humid some days, dry others, and never
just right.
Today, the office was humid, reflecting the
rainy day before. It was hot as could be, and
walking in the door, there was a phantom
sensation of being slapped with a wet blanket.
None of these things could really touch Fox
Mulder, though. Today there was a definite
bounce in his step, and he could do nothing
but smile, even as he watched his keys tumble
clumsily down the stairs outside the office.
He didn't groan and his knees didn't creak when he bent to pick them up, and he even whistled as he shoved the offending office key into the worn and reluctant lock on the office door. Jangling them, he bit his lip until the key hit the exact weakness in the lock, and the door flew open.
"Open sesame..." he whispered under his breath.
Rearranging the papers strewn about the office,
he cleared just enough room for his suit coat and
wayward tie. As he sorted through his inner-office
mail, he slowly rolled up the sleeves of his
dress shirt and unbuttoned the top button gently
pushing into his throat.
Seeing that the mail yielded nothing important, he
made his way to the coffee maker. As he went about
preparing the morning's sludge, he thought about
how happy Scully would be to see that he took
the initiative in making the coffee this morning.
Typically, he left the task to her. Truth be told,
he just wasn't as big a coffee drinker as she was.
He used the stuff to jog himself. If Scully didn't
have at least three cups of coffee before 10:00,
there was hell to pay.
Once there was enough coffee poured into the carafe to make a cup, he quickly pulled the pot out and poured his cup before too much of it could make its way onto the counter top. After wiping up what mess he did make, he picked up his coffee, and took a sip of the steaming, bitter drink. Declaring to himself that it was drinkable, he turned and headed back toward his desk.
As he plopped down into his desk chair, it unexpectedly began to recline, and his arm jolted as he tried to get control of his still-full coffee cup. Tipping himself back forward, he managed to set the cup down on the desk before catastrophe struck. Mulder let out a sigh, grateful to the powers-that-be that he had not spilled yet another cup of hot coffee onto a brand-new suit.
Just as he was reclining back again, sans
coffee, the door burst open, and there was
a jovial "Morning, Mulder!" This time, he
was not quite as lucky maneuvering his chair.
While trying to remain upright, he almost
experienced the horror of tipping the chair
over to the side. Once all was righted, he
worked to get his heart rate and breathing
back under control.
"Good Morning, Scully..." there was a slight
hint of annoyance in his voice.
Mulder looked up to meet Dana Scully's
grinning face. She looked as though she was
ready to burst, trying to hold in the guffaw
that was daring to escape her lips. The
dirtier side of his mind thought he knew
exactly what had her so giddy, as he thought
back to her naked body sprawled out on his
bed the night before. More importantly, her
naked body sprawled out underneath his
naked body. But he didn't say anything to
her. Such utterances were a complete sin
in the confines of the office. He wouldn't
live to make it halfway through the
comment.
"Good morning, sunshine!" She teased him.
"What's got you so 'sunny' this morning"
Mulder mock-grumbled at her. He quirked
his eyebrow to convey to her exactly what
he meant.
Scully's smile broadened before she made a point of disappearing it and clearing her throat. "Oh, I don't know, Mulder. I suppose I just had a good time last night. You know, spend the night hunkered down with a good book." "Scully-" His response was interrupted by the shrill ring of the office telephone. Mulder simply smiled, silently telling her to hold her thought, and reached over to pick up the receiver.
"Mulder."
There was a snort of laughter on the other end of the line. "Same old idiot," the friendly voice trailed off.
Mulder was puzzled for a moment. What the hell? He looked to Scully, who was growing concerned watching the expression on his face. Mulder's brows knitted. Somehow, he thought he just might recognize that voice. "John? Is that you?"
Another bark of laughter echoed across the line.
"Damn straight, Mulder." Scully relaxed as
Mulder's confused expression morphed into a smile.
"You never do forget a voice, do you?"
"What the hell are you trying to do to me John? And, while we're at it, where have you been?"
"Well," John continued, "I would love to explain that to you Mulder. I've found the agency I work for in a bit of trouble. In short, I have something very important to discuss with you, and I'm in DC right now. Can you meet me?"
"Sure. Where and when?" Mulder pulled out a pad of paper and a pen.
"Can you meet me over at Casey's for Lunch? 12:00?"
"That'll be fine. Is everything ok John? You're alright, aren't you?" Mulder was concerned. Was it only his agency that was in trouble, or was he himself in trouble?
"Well, not everything is fine, Mulder, but I don't believe I'm in any personal danger. I just desperately need your help. I'll see you at lunch?"
"Sure thing, John. And be careful." Mulder ended the conversation.
He hung up, the remnants of his smile still hanging on his face, but mixed with some concern. He looked up at Scully, whose eyebrows were still raised in blatant curiosity, waiting for an explanation for the display.
"Who was that?" She finally couldn't stand it and asked.
"His name is John Collins. There's not really much to tell. We roomed at Quantico and sort of became unofficial best friends." Mulder explained.
"Unofficial?"
"Yeah. Being a friend of mine is slightly reputation damaging. But he was the only person who was really willing to listen to me. We just tended to go our separate ways when around colleagues. I understood. I know it seems kind of backhanded, but it was a really good friendship."
"I understand." Scully had a slightly wistful look on her face. "What has him contacting you now?"
"I truly have no idea. I haven't spoken to him in years. Last I knew, he dropped the FBI to work for a private organization in environmental protection."
"That's a real 180 from the FBI." Scully raised her eyebrows.
"You don't have to tell me that, Scully. I tried best as I could to keep the guy around. But, it was his real dream to work in the sun, in the wilderness, with animals. I don't know exactly what had him working in law enforcement. He was great at it, but it was always obvious that he would rather be elsewhere."
"What was with the concern over the phone? It sounded as though he's in danger." Scully's tone began to move more to the suspicious side.
"I don't know. He said something about his agency running into some trouble. I hope he hasn't gotten himself into some kind of danger. Either way, he asked us to meet him at Casey's at noon. We'll get the full scoop then."
Scully nodded her agreement, her brows furrowed as she headed toward the file folders piled atop her desk.
Casey's Bar and Grill 11:45 am
Scully happily sipped at her iced tea
as she watched Mulder sitting across from
her. They sat at a four-seater table in the
middle of the restaurant, with a perfect
view of the front door. Mulder was definitely
taking advantage of the view, his attention
glued to the front door. His leg nervously
tapped in solid rhythm against the hard linoleum
floor of the restaurant, if somewhat to her
annoyance. She didn't begrudge him, though.
He was obviously excited to see his friend.
Scully was secretly anxious to meet his friend as well. Mulder's friends were so few and far between, it was almost a surprise to find they existed when they happened across them. Though she wasn't terribly pleased that the man hadn't had enough guts to share an open friendship with Mulder, she understood how important it was to have just one person who was willing to listen, even if it wasn't necessarily in public.
Suddenly, Mulder turned back to Scully,
watching her watching him. He caught her
eyes for a second, and knew she had him
pegged. He turned his back from the door, and
took a short sip of his diet coke. A watched
pot will never boil, right?
Mulder briefly wondered if John would
like Scully. Part of him was sure he would.
After all, there were very few people he knew
of who didn't like her. She was typically
perfectly neutral, pleasant, and appealing,
if for a few exceptions.
Mulder also wondered what it was John
wanted to discuss with him. He couldn't
think of much they would have in common
professionally, if John had continued down
the path he was working the last time he
had spoken to him. Had it really been over
five years since Mulder had spoken to John?
It was much longer since they had worked
together, John his silent but willing ally.
Scully's attention was caught as she spied movement at the front door. A man in his early forties came through the door, with a luxurious head of hair and a broad smile on his face. There was scarcely any sign of aging on his face, and he had a flattering tan, betraying his great amount of time spent in the sun. His medium-thin and tall body was dressed casually, in light slacks and a button-up t-shirt. A large carry-all bag was unassumingly slung over his shoulder. Overall, the man was very attractive, and Scully was fairly certain he was the man of the hour.
"Mulder," she hailed his attention. "Is that him?" She nodded her head towards the front entrance, where the man was surveying the room, obviously looking for someone familiar.
Mulder turned around like a shot, and when his grin grew impossibly large, Scully knew she was correct. He flew out of his seat, and ran to bodily greet John Collins. When John turned and saw Mulder almost upon him, he openly reached out and embraced his old friend in a bear hug. After separating, the men vigorously shook hands and clapped backs - the usual man-to-man display of affection.
After greeting each other, Mulder
showed John his way back to the table.
"John," He gestured toward Scully, "I'd
like you to meet my partner, Dana Scully"
Mulder smiled, and she wasn't sure if he
was smiling for his pride in her, or in
his old best friend.
John smiled and pushed his hand out toward Scully. She took John's friendly hand, not able to help the wide smile that came across her face as she shook his hand. His demeanor was contagious.
"I remember Mulder mentioning his partner the last time I spoke with him. It's a pleasure to meet you, Agent Scully." She apparently had John's seal of approval.
"A pleasure to meet you as well, John"
Scully looked down at the table. "Please,
make yourself comfortable."
John nodded and eased himself down into a chair, slinging an arm over its broad back. "Its so good to see you again, Mulder. I can't believe how long its been since we've spoken. It seems like its been a lifetime."
"I could hardly believe it either, John.
Where the hell have you been?"
"Well, after I left the bureau, I went to work for a private environmental protection group, but you knew about that. About a year later, though, I was working as a special interest lobbyist on capitol hill, for the same cause. It was great, but I got tired of the semantics, the politics, the pace. It took a while to realize it, but it really wasn't for me. I got in touch with an old friend of mine and began working in environmental research, on a more hands-on level."
"What kind of research?" Scully was curious, and interrupted John's explanation.
"Surveying of mountainous terrain, watching wildlife growth and migration patterns, burn records, the such."
"To what means?" Scully asked.
"Well, it'll make a lot more sense to
you when I tell you where I've actually
been. The research and protection
agency I work for is mainly based out
of Cape Town, South Africa, for the Table
Mountain Observatory and Preservation agency.
Table mountain has been plagued by recent
fires, not all of which are due to natural
causes. There has been a rash of illegal
hunting, as of late, amongst other problems."
"Africa, John?" Mulder was somewhat incredulous. "How did you end up on that detail?"
John smiled. "I know its not really what
you think of as your cup of tea, Mulder,
but its fantastic. The land is gorgeous,
the people are friendly, and the job is
a dream," John paused, "despite its
recent complications."
"Complications?" Mulder asked.
"It's why I called you, Mulder. As much as I'm thrilled to see you again, I really need your help. You have such a penchant for cutting through the crap and getting down to the truth of the matter. I really need your insight this time."
"What is it, John?" Mulder grew concerned.
"There's been a problem. The agency sent a surveying and research team on an expedition of the mountain approximately nine weeks ago. Because of funding problems, our director was forced to call the team back to the offices. The research was not overwhelmingly telling or indicative of any significant change, so it was agreed that it would be best to call the team off. News was sent to the team leader. That was two weeks ago. There's been no word from the team since. Search teams have worked all up the mountain, with no luck. So far, they've only found the abandoned and ransacked tent site, which has yielded no evidence. Obviously, we fear the worst."
"What is it that you want me to do, John"
Mulder asked, his brows furrowed.
John reached into his bag, still resting
across his shoulder, and pulled out a
file folder. He slid it toward Mulder. "I
need you to take a look at the file"
John paused, "And I want to come and take
a look at the mountain."
Mulder let out a nervous chuckle. "John,
you know just how far out of our jurisdiction
Africa is. There's no way my supervisor will
allow me to open an official investigation,
here."
"I know that, Mulder. But I need your help. The local authorities have been working on this around the clock, with no results. I know if there is anyone who can help us, its you. I have a feeling that we really need to look outside the box, here, Mulder." John's look was fiercely pleading.
Scully chewed on her lip as she watched Mulder turn deep into thought.
"Where are you staying, John?" Mulder asked.
"I want to take a look at the file, and
discuss the matter with AD Skinner; see if
there is any way on God's green earth that I
can get out there. Can I call you later
today with an answer?"
John nodded, "Sure, Mulder. Why don't we get together and discuss over a couple drinks later tonight? Just give me a call." He slipped Mulder his hotel's card. "I'm staying at the Holiday Inn."
"Thanks, John." As the men stood, they embraced again. "I'll see what I can do to get us out there. No promises, though."
"I understand, Mulder. I'll catch you later."
John waved silently to Scully, before walking back to the front entrance and making his way back to his rented vehicle.
Mulder and Scully shared a somewhat befuddled look before doing the same.
End Part One