"Crooked River" by: SoulfullyInked
Summary: Mulder and Scully receive information that an environmental disaster decades earlier may have been a cover for another government conspiracy. Warning: Very foul language!
Disclaimer: I don't own anything related to the X Files, Mulder and Scully belong to Chris Carter. Benjamin O'Rourke, Tonja and Karl Pryzbcz are my creations, as is Groza. This story takes place sometime shortly after Millennium, with foreshadowings of Nothing Important Happened Today I and II. There's minor in-passing references to Detour, Anasazi, Humbug, FTF and 2Shy. It is strictly fictional, because, as any football fan knows, the Browns would never find themselves in the Super Bowl. And I'm embellishing our idyllic weather...but, not by much...
Feel free to comment and archive, just leave everything intact and lemme know where it's going!
A/N:I was going to wait to publish this until it was finished. Unfortunately I've stumbled upon a rather large piece of writer's block. Hopefully some feedback will help me ascend this mountainous summit...
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(Part I)
"Pack your snowsuit G-Woman! We have a case!" Mulder was all a-twitter as he tossed a file folder and plane ticket atop the case file Scully was reading.
Scully let herself steal a small smile in response, but didn't look up at her partner fidgeting above her. Ever since New Year's in that hospital he had been a walking, talking, 6ft ball of giddiness. At first she had been delighted at Mulder's uplifted spirits, but now his hyperactivity was beginning to annoy her. That kiss...
That Kiss!
That kiss had opened up something to him, to her, to the possibilities of what could be. They'd both been relieved that IT finally happened. The weight lifted from years of yearning had sent Mulder into such a happy mania that Scully was reluctant to bring him down. So seldom in his life had he tasted euphoria that she would let him revel in this state for as long as he wanted.
For her part, she was being logical, pragmatic. She'd desired, fantasized about becoming so much more besides partners and friends for years herself. But since Mulder had always been the one wont to flights of fancy, she always remained the grounded one.
But, oh, did she want to do more than just kiss him...
Mulder's boyish enthusiasm was oozing across airspace at her. It'd been a while since he'd been *this* excited about a case. She closed the file she'd been reading, nothing related to the X Files, simply details regarding an autopsy another department had asked her to perform, and looked at the file Mulder had tossed her. It was little more than an old newspaper article and plane ticket.
"Mulder? What is this?" she was confused. It was normal for one of their cases to start with just a local news story or folk legend. But most of those were of recent origin. This clipping was from 1969. From a newspaper called The Plain Dealer. The headline read "Cuyahoga River Catches Fire." She looked up at her partner quizzically. "What's this about?"
Mulder had been biting his lower lip, shifting from foot to foot anxiously. This had just fallen into his lap this morning and he wanted to jump on it as fast as he and Scully could. He plucked the yellowed article from her hands. "June 22nd, 1969 the Cuyahoga River in Cleveland caught on fire. Industrial pollution..."
She stopped him mid-sentence. "Mulder, I know that. Learned about it in elementary school even. That event single-handedly brought about the creation of the EPA. It made the city the laughing stock of the country. I don't see where you're going with this."
Mulder reached across the desk to grab the remainder of the file, resisting the overwhelming urge to peek down her blouse. His hand brushed hers, it was electric. Neither could deny it.
He stood ramrod straight then and tried to quell his nervous fidgeting. *Goddamn, those pouty lips of hers!* He looked down at the article. "This actually wasn't the first time that happened, the river catching fire. It also happened in 1953. Caused about $1,000,000 damage to ships and bridges and docks." He looked up to see the fiery red-headed gazing at him questioningly. He pointed to a sentence on the paper. "It says here in the '69 fire that, despite it being bigger, there was negligible damage. One boat, one dock."
Scully wasn't following. Most times she could expertly navigate the ebbs and flows of Mulder's thought processes. Sometimes, like this one, it was all she could do to hang on and let the current take her where it may. "So, Mulder? The Great Lakes have been the epicenter for the steel industry in this country for over a century. Pollutants have been being pumped into every available water source since even before the Industrial Revolution. They learned from their mistake the first time, although not enough to prevent it from happening again. I don't get why you're interested in this?"
He flashed her a weak, pathetic grin. The one he used when asking for forgiveness when she was mad at him. It melted her heart, always had and he knew it. He fished around the file for another piece of paper. "I was sent this this morning." He pointed to an email printout with names and registry numbers on it. He pointed out several of the names to her. "These are all the vessels that were damaged in the fire of '53. Three of them are Coast Guard. This one here? The lone vessel to catch fire in 1969? Also Coast Guard."
Scully restrained herself from rolling her eyes. *Oh piss* She knew where this was going.
Scully's unamused stare didn't deter Mulder one bit. He continued on with fervor. "What are the chances Scully? Huh? What are the chances that in both instances military ships were the biggest casualties? One of the agents at the Cleveland field office sent me this, with speculation...and evidence...that there might have been more to these fires than industrial pollution."
This time Scully did roll her eyes as Mulder blew by her. She looked up to the ceiling in mock-exasperation. She hated the cold. She hated the snow. And where was Mulder dragging her this time? Fucking Cleveland, Ohio...in the middle of winter. He would be getting a big, fat snowball down the back of his shirt for this when they got there.
"C'mon Scully," he called from the hallway. "Don'tchya got a sexy snow bunny outfit for me?"
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The clouds below were ominous, brooding, imposing. They looked as if they would swallow the plane whole at any second.
Mulder watched out the window at the threatening storm below. He craned his neck at an impossibly uncomfortable angle. Scully had fallen asleep beside him. Squished and contorted by the fat fucker beside her in the aisle seat, she'd been using his shoulder as a pillow. It wasn't a long flight normally, about two hours, but tonight's trip was teetering on the edge of three. A doozie of one of the region's infamous Lake Effect Storms was blowing in, airports across the area were trying to get as many planes landed as possible before battening down the hatches.
He liked this area. He mused it was because he didn't have much occasion to travel out this way. Cleveland wasn't typically a paranormal hotspot. Oh, sure, he'd get fleeting reports of sightings of a Nessie-type monster sighted in Lake Erie sporadically...and there was his and Scully's investigation of that fat-sucking freak several years ago...but, nothing he usually deemed credible nor interesting. If there'd ever been more than beyond vague reports of the Monster, he and Scully would have been dredging up the lake's contents themselves.
No, it was quiet for the most part where they were going. They left he and Scully alone, they, in turn, left them alone.
*Cuz aliens don't like the cold,* he groused. Mulder snorted to himself. When they landed it would very likely be in the double digits below freezing. *Perfect cuddling weather!* He glanced down at the petite face resting on his arm. So pretty, so angelic, so right. He missed the announcement that the plane was making it's approach, he was too busy gazing at his sweet girl.
Twenty minutes later, the pilot's too cheery voice came over the intercom, "welcome to Cleveland, folks! Bundle up! It's cold outside! Current temp is a nippy 12 below, with windchills in the upper negative twenties. Those passengers with connecting flights, please check with your airlines as the forecast is calling for 36-48 inches of snow by tomorrow morning. The current time is 6:34pm EST. And for you football fans out there, the Browns have just defeated the Patriots and are headed to the Super Bowl! O-H...!"
"I-O!" was the response from the obvious natives, followed by a raucous round of Arsenio Hall-esque barking and pounding of fists against the bulkheads. The commotion roused Scully awake abruptly, Mulder usually waited until the last second to do so. It was such a rare occurrence for either of them to get enough sleep on a case that he always felt guilty robbing her of any opportunity.
"What the hell?" Scully did not usually wake up rapidly. She rubbed the sleep from her eyes and watched as Mulder high-fived the passenger in the row ahead of them. She complied though when he reached for her, entangled his right hand in her hair and pulled her close into his chest for a quick embrace. She countered by wrapping her arm around his waist and giving a little squeeze to the muscles of his lower back. Moments like this, the ones that just were for no reason, were becoming more frequent. And welcome.
*Very* welcome.
Mulder's hand ran through Scully's hair, down her neck and back to rest in the small there, just above her buttocks. He guided her through the other departing passengers with his hand planted firmly there, while simultaneously reciprocating proffered high-fives with his left to the jubilant Browns fans. He expertly snagged his and Scully's carry-ons from the overhead compartments without so much as moving his hand a millimeter from it's place. He slung both bags over his shoulder and continued like that through the tunnel.
At the window just outside of the jetway Scully turned her head and groaned in despair. In a matter of minutes the outline of their 747 had disappeared into the oppressive white shroud of snow, making it all but a ghostly shadow. *Oh, Mulder! You so are gonna owe me for this!*
Thoughts that were unbeknownst to her partner, thoughts of just *how* she desired his penance, pervaded her imagination their entire walk from the terminal to baggage claim. Mulder was too entranced by the big, fat snow flakes streaking by every window to notice the wry grin playing at her lips.
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Benjamin O'Rourke was unlike most other FBI agents. He was fat, for one. Not fat, he always countered, more like fluffy. Truth be told, he was built like a fireplug. Short, stocky, barrel-chested and storing enough insulating fat to make it through the Cleveland winters.
He was also insubordinate, distrusting of authority, disrespectful of the chain-of-command. He held the desk-jockeying brass back in DC with little regard. He'd been disciplined more than once throughout his career. But, he was a damn good agent, one of the best around. His impressive arrest record often kept him from getting the permanent boot from the Bureau.
Not that he'd mind one bit. It would afford him more time to his buds and their band. He was also more high-profile than the FBI preferred, the lead singer in a local punk rock band. *Daily Dose of Anarchy.* They were regulars at The Grog Shop and The Spitfire. He relished in screaming out his frustrations in song.
He, of course, knew about Special Agents Fox Mulder and Dana Scully. He'd never met them, but had heard about them through Bureau scuttlebutt. They were impressive in their own right, not exactly kept in the greatest of graces, but for the work they did they were simply the best. He was looking forward to meeting these two renegade agents, they were just the style he dug.
Some of their theories, their opinions, he wasn't so sure about. Their oogey-boogey cases, the ones involving things like moth men or Siamese twins, for example, were hard for him to swallow. But their *other* cases, the ones involving the existence of aliens and governmental conspiracies, he fully endorsed further examination of the facts at hand. He'd been around the block long enough to know there were things going on that the American public wasn't privy to. That there was something amiss in the way certain incidents were handled. He wasn't arrogant enough to think that Earth was the only inhabited planet in the cosmos. He didn't think it even remotely plausible.
That's why he didn't have a second thought when he'd contacted Agent Mulder with the evidence presented to him. Evidence that only Mulder and Scully could make sense of. Evidence that would further their convictions that there were, indeed, other life forms in the universe and that certain members of the human race were in some serious cahoots with them.
O'Rourke spotted the DC pair coming down the hallway from their terminal. *Goddamn!* he thought. *What a pair!*
If the FBI decided to ever put out a calendar, these two would certainly be the best months. Beauty and brains.
He watched them coming towards him and they were a sight to behold. Seldom did partners blend so well, so fluid with one another. The way Mulder and Scully moved almost seemed as if they were one. True, Mulder was nearly a foot taller than his partner. But even Scully's diminutive size seemed a powerful force binding them together.
O'Rourke could tell from the twinkle in both agent's eyes that they were much more than just partners. They were in love...
He flashed up his sign and yelled for the DC agents, hoping they'd hear him above all the other celebratory yelling echoing through the airport.
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Mulder was amazed that these people hadn't gone hoarse yet. They'd followed the throngs of home-coming Clevelanders the entire way from the terminal. The cheering and the barking had not lessened in the slightest. It was nice, he supposed, to be witness to such a joyous...and rare...occasion. He was just positive that he would still be hearing *Here we go Brownies, here we go! Woof! Woof!* in his sleep for days.
Even if the email he'd received turned out to to be a false alarm, he was convinced that from the looks of it outside, he and Scully would be staying here for a few days.
Now what could they possibly do being stranded in a hotel for a couple days?
He mulled over that thought as someone flashed a bright orange piece of paper in the air. It read "FIBBIES" in bold block letters across it's surface. The man holding the sign began waving it like a flag when he'd noticed it had caught Mulder and Scully's attention. The man was yelling, but it was impossible to hear him over the cacophony of other travelers.
Mulder grinned down at his partner. "See Scully? This won't be so bad. They've sent us a chauffeur." Although he knew exactly whom the man was. He pushed through the crowds a little more forcefully, Scully immediately in tow. He offered his hand in greeting. "Evening, I'm Special Agent Fox Mulder."
"Special Agent Benjamin O'Rourke," the man offered back, grabbing Mulder's outstretched hand. He was also shorter than Mulder, about six inches so. He had a ruddy complexion, husky build and a graying red beard that's length was far longer than regulations allowed. His black golf cap was on backwards. Mulder instantly liked the man. "You must be Special Agent Dana Scully." O'Rourke took Scully's hand, performed a flamboyantly chivalrous bow and kissed the back of it. "My dear, I trust yous guys had a good flight."
Mulder's heart skipped a beat as his partner blushed bright red. He loved it, it was adorable, although he loved it more when it had been him causing the reaction. But he'd let O'Rourke have this one.
"Yes, Agent O'Rourke..." Scully started.
"Benji," he interrupted.
"I-I'm sorry?"
"Benji, call me Benji. Agent O'Rourke takes too long to say. And besides," he looked up at Mulder and winked, "you're amongst friends here."
Scully looked to her partner, they both shrugged and smiled back. It did seem as if they were more welcome here than they'd been anywhere...ever.
She continued with her answering of his query. "To be honest, Benji, I'm surprised we landed. This storm picked up outta nowhere." She glanced out the window with distaste. Mulder owed her big indeed!
O'Rourke caught the disgust in her voice. He waved at the window with a flourish. "This? Bah! This ain't nuthin' Sweetheart. It's the cold that'll gitchya." He flashed them both a mischievous grin, shrugged his woolen pea coat back on his shoulders. "That's why I decided to meet yous guys here. Figured you ain't used to this shit. The plow boys haven't caught up with the roads yet, so it'll take a while to get to your hotel. The field office is the next block over, I'll walk over after dropping you two off. No sense in having my problem-solvers get the bejeezus scared out their wits trying to get out the airport. C'mon."
He turned and headed towards the baggage claim. "Besides," he called after Mulder and Scully, "if I know Wally, he okayed you for a crappy little Taurus. I gotchya a little something fancier up in here."
Mulder and Scully both looked at each other and chuckled.
*Wally*
Yeah, they definitely liked Benjamin O'Rourke tremendously.
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O'Rourke hadn't been lying when he'd said he'd pulled out all the stops on their vehicle. A shiny black Tahoe greeted them in the parking garage. It was a thing of beauty. He stacked their luggage in the cargo area while Mulder held the passenger door open for his partner.
O'Rourke smiled to himself. They were more than just partners, he wasn't entirely sure if they'd crossed the line into anything sexual...yet.
*Lawd knows I would if I had a hotsy-totsy little number like that to work beside every day!* he mused, trying not to stare at Scully.
Even though there was no animosity to be found, Mulder clearly projected an air of possession and protectiveness towards him in regards to Scully. O'Rourke sensed that either partner would take on the world for the other. From what he knew of them, they already had.
There was no macho chest-puffing when it came to driving to the hotel. Mulder simply acquiesced to the elder local native. He sat in the driver's side rear, that way he could steal quick glances at his pretty red headed partner in the passnger's seat. Even in profile, Mulder found Scully to be stunning.
O'Rourke put the truck in gear and plunged them out into a world of white. "It'll take a while to get downtown in this. It should be cleared up by morning," he explained. "I'll show you around better tomorrow, but for now I want to get us all where we need to be in one piece. Oh, and despite the inclement weather, downtown is gonna be nuts. With the Brownies winning today there's gonna be a lot of drunk-asses out partying."
After over an hour of harrowing, white-knuckled driving, O'Rourke pulled off the highway into downtown Cleveland. He hadn't said much during the trip, he'd been too busy concentrating on keeping to the roads.
Both Mulder and Scully were both astonished and amused that he was right. Even though it was whiteout conditions, below frigid and pushing nine at night there were still hoards of people clad in orange and brown causing havoc in the streets. Mulder even thought he saw some moron traipsing around with no shirt on. When he heard Scully exclaim, "Dude, I hope your nipples freeze off!" is when he knew he hadn't been seeing things.
He grinned to himself, he loved it when Scully was a snarky smart-ass.
Even Benjamin O'Rourke, a born-n-bred-orange-n-brown-bleeding-native frowned. He jerked his thumb back at the drunken crowds. "Don't get me wrong, I'm happy as a clam. But, these people are gonna get alcohol banished from sporting events."
Before any further comments could be made, he pulled into a parking garage off of a side street. They'd made it in one piece. He pulled into one of the spots reserved for hotel guests and bid them a good evening. As a parting gift, he delighted in telling the more prim-and-proper Washington Bureau agents that wearing formal business attire was suspended in his office in times of "icky weather." With that, he bundled up and vanished into the snowy abyss.
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Scully was amazed when she'd gotten up the next morning. O'Rourke, Benji, was right. Even though the snow storm was still raging outside her fourth story window, the streets below were fairly passable. Although the temperature was still -21. She cringed at the thought.
There was a soft knock on the adjoining door for their rooms. Mulder. Even though the door was unlocked and partially open...they'd been doing that since practically the beginning, what with her partner's propensity towards nightmares...he always knocked before entering. Making sure she was decent.
Although each one secretly desired to walk in on the other not descent.
She saw he'd taken Benji's declaration to heart, he was wearing jeans and a black v-neck sweater and black hiking boots. Scully liked it when Mulder wore black. He looked good in black.
She, herself, was also seizing the rare opportunity for comfort that this case was affording them. She donned a pair of jeans, the plum-colored silk blouse her mother'd given her for Christmas, the grey fleece vest of Mulder's that she'd commandeered and her hikers. They both had smartly packed up the parkas they'd worn in Antarctica.
It was just about as damn near cold.
Mulder joined her at the window. They could both feel the bitter cold permeating through the glass. He knew Scully's sexy, little imagination was concocting some form of revenge for dragging her out in this. He knew how much she hated winter. He traced his right index finger ever-so-slightly down her fleecey spine. "So, I didn't leave this at the Gunmen's."
He grinned devilishly when he felt Scully shudder slightly beneath his touch.
"Looks good on you. Keep it."
Scully arched an eyebrow in a look that said *I intend to, my dear Fox Mulder!* She shocked the shit out of him with her suggestion that they walk, not drive, to the FBI field office down the street. "I, for one, don't want to try driving in this. I don't care if O'Rourke got us Santa's sleigh, he did say it's only a block from here." It was step one in her vengeful plot.
Mulder narrowed his eyes at his partner's suggestion. She was up to something. But, he couldn't fault her logic. He was man enough if she was.
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Their short walk to the Cleveland field office was proving to be an eventful one indeed.
The streets were mostly clear, the sidewalks were not. Mulder saw the snowcat parting the snow from them some distance away. He'd nearly biffed when his footing gave way under what he thought was walkway apron. A passerby called "fucking potholes! Goddamn things'll swallow you alive!"
Mulder was forced to concur. He was half-standing when he felt something cosmically cold on the back of his neck. Scully had taken advantage of his vulnerable position and exacted her revenge by shoving a fistful of snow down his coat. *Oh, you evil, evil woman!* he thought as he heard her cackle with delight. *That's how this game is gonna be played, hmm?* He pretended not to notice the frigid cold on his neck. Instead he stealthily scooped up a handful of snow, forming a tight ball and lobbed it in Scully's direction.
It hit it's mark on Scully's ass with a substantial *ssssppppllllliffffsssshhhhh*.
She retaliated by heaving two missiles of her own at her grinning partner. One sailed wide to the right, the other hit him square in the chest. She was rewarded with another barrage aimed in her direction. Nothing made contact, but the action made them both forget for a moment that they were here on a case, not playing in the snow.
Not that either of them cared much that they were adults...FBI agents...on a business trip, having a snowball fight across the street from their field office. It was almost unheard of for them to have a little fun on a case. They were going to enjoy the moment, damnit!
So caught up was Scully in dodging Mulder's assault that she barely took notice of the escalation of their fight until it was too late. She found herself being lifted upwards, tilted akimbo and then plopped ass-end into a snow drift. She grabbed another fistful of snow and shoved it into Mulder's face. She cackled in delight at his sputtering.
Mulder shook loose the snow. Flushed as it already was from the cold and the wind, his face was almost as ruddy as O'Rourke's. He bent down closer to Scully's smiling face, also flushed. So close that their cheeks brushed together while he spoke softly into her ear. "So, this is how the game is to be played, is it, my dear Dana?" He spoke in his most seductive, sultry voice.
Scully fought back the overpowering urge to turn her head and catch Mulder's lips with her own. Especially the bottom one, she loved the fullness and the softness of his bottom lip the most. She loved it when he used that tone of voice with her, loved the way it made her feel. She hated it when he used that tone of voice with her, hated that she couldn't act on the way it made her feel.
Cognizance struck them both just then. The reality of when and where they were struck like one of their hurled snowballs. It was one thing having perfect strangers glance in their direction as they'd assaulted each other with frozen projectiles. It was a completely different thing having been witnessed by individuals that could further stoke the rumor mill fire. There'd always been lewd comments made about their partnership being more than just a partnership. Mulder had once shot a look of such venom towards one of the gossipers that they weren't the most popular subject any more.
It was true, though. Mulder and Scully were so much more than just partners. They were best friends.
It was also true that they were so much more than best friends. Their's was a relationship that had evolved beyond the confines of either friendship or family.
They hadn't ventured into the physical realm...yet... If it came, neither partner would balk at the progression. Already though, their relationship was far more intimate and far more erotic than the wildest of either of their fantasies. Each caress made in chaste or lecherous comment was the deepest expression of love.
They brushed themselves free from the evidence of their fight and ascended the short stair case into the Cleveland field office. Once inside they freed themselves from the extraneous confines of hats and scarves and gloves. Scully was forced to help her partner straighten out the errant staticky lock of hair that his fingers kept failing to find.
Scully was always amazed at how soft Mulder's hair was.
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The Cleveland FBI field office wasn't big for a major metropolis. It consisted of only a handful of field agents and the bottom floor of a downtown office building. Most of the agents also worked the Akron area, less than an hour's drive from their current location.
At the moment, it was an office in disarray. There were snow shovels and bags of rock salt piled against the wall by the door and multiple pairs of thick boots propped up against radiators to dry out.
Scully and Mulder made their way to a receptionist's area in the middle of the entrance. The woman behind the desk, Tonja was her name, gave them both a big, toothy smile as they approached. She stood up, extended her hand in greeting and offered to show them where to stash their plethora of outerwear. Both were slightly miffed that there wasn't a Mimi behind that desk.
"Benji's been all giddy about yous guys being here all morning. We don't usually need to call into the main office for backup, but this one's got 'Help!' writ all over it. It's nice to get company that'll let Benji do his own thing his own way. Want some coffee? We get the good, expensive shit here," she grinned and winked at their nods of approval.
Tonja returned a minute later with two ginormous mugs of steaming hot coffee. "Benji's desk is that way," she pointed at a set of double doors just behind her desk area. "We'll probably wait til later to go see Preach at the water treatment plant. I'm not officially an agent anymore, I've had both cruciate ligaments and meniscus tear. I'm too old to go galavanting around. I do most of the evidence collection and secretarial BS. Benji is at his desk. Make yourselves at home." She waved her hands in the direction of the doors.
Mulder and Scully looked at each other again and shrugged. They liked Tonja almost as much as they liked Benjamin O'Rourke. They made their way to the doors with their vats of expensive and delicious coffee. They parted their way through as Tonja called after them, "oh yeah, hold on tight! And I hope neither of you is afraid of dogs!"
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Mulder was propelled backwards by a huge, black...something. It felt like a boulder had slammed into his stomach. He let out a most inhuman squeal that Scully nearly snorted coffee out her nose. How he'd managed to not drop his mug was a mystery.
Mulder stood almost doubled over against the wall and came face-to-face with the largest Doberman Pinscher he'd ever seen. The thing was humongous, not fat, just *big*, with huge ears that were flipped every which way except the right one and a huge tongue flopped out the side of his gaping maw. The mouthful of very large, white fangs would have been menacing save for the enthusiastic bouncing from foot to foot and over-active gyrating nub of a tail. The beast planted a wet, sloppy kiss to Mulder's face, nearly taking off a layer of skin in it's exuberance.
Scully giggled with amusement behind her coffee cup.
"Groza! Get back here! Groza! Leave the poor man alone!" Benji O'Rourke rolled his eyes in exasperation as he grabbed the dog by the collar and pulled him away from Mulder. "Sorry bro, not exactly a nice way to say hello."
"Not the good morning kiss I've been dreaming of," Mulder deadpanned as he wiped the slobber from his cheek. He stole a knowing, pining glance in Scully's direction. His heart always skipped a beat when she giggled like that. Especially when it was at his expense. He could listen to that sound all day. Instead he straightened up and extended a hand towards the beast named Groza. The dog immediately placed his foot atop Mulder's and leaned against his leg, gazing up at the newcomer agent.
Scully smiled through it all. She took a sip of her coffee, cocked her head to one side and said, "it appears you have a new friend Mulder. I hope the Gunmen don't get jealous." She never would have pegged Mulder for an animal person, at least not when she'd first met him. But he always seemed to gravitate towards any pets that would show up in the course of an investigation, especially dogs. Dogs loved him.
Well, not Queequeg. Queequeg hadn't cared for Mulder much, too much competition. Scully had had the impression that Mulder had felt the same way about her late canine companion.
Groza was another matter, she saw the excitement in her partner's eyes. Often on their long drives back they talked about all sorts of things. Wrapping up case notes, music, movies, life, death. Most recently they'd caught themselves talking about desires outside of their all-consuming careers. Neither of them had missed the fact that they were making these plans together. They'd agreed to get a dog, Mulder wanted a dog. The most odd-ball mutt that they could find, he'd said. But by the way he was fawning over Groza, Scully had a feeling that a dobie would be the new front runner.
O'Rourke gave a tweak to the giant schnozz when it turned his way. He snorted cheerfully. "Bah. That's why he's here. Too friendly. Groz was in the bomb dog program. He washed out after the first year. Can't have one hundred pounds barreling through crime scenes like that. He's an effective interrogation tool though. He either scares the hell outta the perps or sends them blubbering into his shoulder."
Groza then discovered Scully and plodded over to her for a belly rub. She acquiesced just as easily as her partner had. She burst out laughing when the gigantic dog started tugging at the ears of the pink bunny slippers O'Rourke was wearing.
O'Rourke took it all in stride, "I have plantar fasciitis. Doc told me to go barefoot whenever possible. It's colder than a witch's left boob in a brass bra, I'm wearing my slippers. Don't judge me." He turned toward the island of desks in the middle of the room. There still was nothing overtly special about this field office, save for the agents that made up it's investigative team. "C'mon, I'll fill yous guys in on what we got going on here. We'll go pay Preach a visit later after the roads clear up a little more," he waved them towards a small sitting area in the far corner of the room.
Although obviously having had seen better days, the threadbare couch was very comfortable, Mulder and Scully each took up residence on either end with Groza happily gnawing on a chewie between them. They each absently stroked his shiny black coat, hands ghosting one behind the other.
O'Rourke's eyes twinkled at the electric spark that could be felt between the two agents. Unconditional love was such a rare beauty to find these days. He took a giant swig of coffee from his own gargantuan cup and squared his shoulders, set to explain why he'd fetched the maverick pair from DC. "It's nothing new that you know about the story about the river catching fire. We been the butt of national jokes for decades cuza it, Mistake on the Lake, what have you. But the file I sent you opened up another avenue of investigation." For all his joviality and hospitality earlier, O'Rourke was intense and forbidding when it came time to be an FBI special agent. He nearly rivaled Mulder in his ferocity. "Last year the city began major overhauls of the water treatment plants. We ain't managed to resurrect the freshwater ecosystem by lazing on improvements. By happy accident a work crew stumbled on a safe hidden in an old office. We found those files when we opened it."
Mulder, now also in agent-mode, leaned into the synopsis of events. Together, he and O'Rourke posed a formidable pair that Scully was tempted to suggest they take on the alien invasion and the government just the two of them, barehanded. "What you sent me hardly quantifies much evidence of a greater conspiracy other than just coincidence. I'll give you that it's highly suspect that it was only military ships damaged, but there's been no other evidence suggesting otherwise."
Benji flashed Mulder a devilish grin. "Ah-ha! Foxy-Loxy, that's where I gotcha! I had that file encrypted somewhat before I sent it over the internet. Big brother is always watching. 1984-level shit, you dig? Here's the original." He slid a pristine piece of type paper across the table at the the two on the other side. If it hadn't been for the obvious aging of the ink itself, and the thicker slice of paper it could have passed for a modern-day forgery.
Neither Mulder nor Scully denied Benji O'Rourke's sincerity. They couldn't, he projected too much honesty to even question what he was showing them. Mulder looked over the piece of paper, trying not to take offense at this latest...and admittedly, most creative, permutation of his name. If it hadn't come from a man that looked like an over-grown leprechaun, he would have immediately disliked the man.
It was impossible not to adore Benjamin O'Rourke.
He ran his finger down the paper as he read each name. Every vessel was on this list, civilian, government, military or otherwise. He let out a humorless snort when he reached the registrations of the ships in question. USCG Good Ship Lollypop, the African Queen, the Rob Roy and the Artemis. "This can not be real." Mulder passed the page over to Scully, whom also took a humorless interest in the list. She raised a perfectly manicured eyebrow while Mulder handed the sheet back across the table to O'Rourke.
He took another cursory glance down the page. "Mmmm-hmmm, told ya. Something's not right here. Back then people weren't as questioning of the government or the local news. With four wars having gone on within fifty years of each other, the American population was quick to follow whatever recommendations it's leaders proposed. The idea of covering up some sort of conspiracy under the guise of an environmental disaster probably didn't cross many minds in those days.
"I think it's just sheer luck that some moron didn't do a better housekeeping job when the EPA took over the water treatment plants. I did a little more investigating into the fires. Now, there wasn't a whole lotta media coverage, at least not like there is today. We can barely finish a case without the local newsies up our asses for an interview."
Both Mulder and Scully nodded in agreement. More than once Mulder had all but verbally assaulted a journalist looking to report on a story. Scully often shot them her Death Stare.
Benji continued, "it took some digging, but I was able to find some photographs of the damage from both fires. Have a looksie." He slid two more slips of paper from a file folder atop the table. They were poorer quality photos, grainy and somewhat unfocused. He placed a magnifying glass on top of the pictures.
The partners leaned in together to examine the photos closer. *Yes, indeed, something was up.* There were partial names and registry numbers visible through the blur and char. They did not match with the manifest on their other paper in the file. Gone were the prefixes USCG, visible on all four vessels were the ID letters IX. IX Kalamazoo on one, what looked to be IX Olympia on another, the names following the call letters were unreadable on the other two.
Scully looked up at O'Rourke wide-eyed first, comprehension sinking in a fraction of a second faster than her partner. "IX. That's a naval designation. What would navy ships be doing in the Cuyahoga River?"
Mulder followed with his own set of questions, "isn't IX designated for miscellaneous vessels?" Both Benji and Scully could see the gears already in motion at the implications of what they were seeing. The ramifications of what was happening here were vastly broadening the scope of what they knew of The Conspiracy.
Scully answered her partner a split second before Benji did, "Yes, Mulder, it is. And miscellaneous vessels are usually either medical or research. Why would the Navy have those kinds of vessels here?"
Benji shrugged as he chimed in, "medical I'd believe. Even back then the Clinic was one of the best in the business. Research, you got me. All's I know is they did a sloppy job at hiding whatever it was they were doing. Now, granted, it was next to impossible to find these pictures and we did verify their authenticity even though they're grainy as shit. Preach is a dear friend of mine, he's not gonna fuck me over with misinformation. He's done some snooping around himself and says he's got some juicy tidbits for me. I'll introduce yous guys later."
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Later turned into just a mere fifteen minutes.
The three agents were rifling through the old newspaper clippings, comparing facts, searching for more discrepancies when Groza the Giant bounded up from his chewing and filled the room with a booming bark. He tore from his place on the couch ready to defend his territory and his people.
When Tonja came through the door, he instantly softened and turned back into the spastic wiggle-wart that had greeted them this morning.
"It's just me, dummy. One of the smartest breeds my ass," she gave a mischievous wink to Mulder and Scully.
Tonja was followed closely behind by a tall bald man. He was Mulder's height and closer to O'Rourke's age. His goatee was still partially frozen. With his stature and build he looked very much like he could be related to AD Skinner. He started peeling off layers of clothing.
O'Rourke jumped up as quickly as Groza had, a big, toothy smile was plastered across his face. "Preach! Dude! How's it going, Brutha!?" He grabbed the man's outstretched hand, pulled him close for a hearty slap on the back. He turned while extending his hand in the direction of Mulder and Scully. Groza never stopped bouncing excitedly at the men's feet. "Preach, these are the DC agents I was telling you about. Special Agents Fox Mulder and Dana Scully."
They both stood in greeting, taking the man's proffered hand in kind.
"Karl Pryzbcz," he said flatly, "but just call me Preach. I know we were planning on meeting at my office later, but an issue came up."
Something in the man's demeanor instantly piqued Mulder's sense of hyper awareness. He was nervous, anxious, twitchy. His eyes kept darting from he and Scully to Benji then back again. The only part of him that wasn't a jumpy mess was the hand that was stroking Groza's neck.
Benji picked up on his friend's skittishness immediately as well. "What's up bro? What happened? Sit down, you're making me nervous!"
All four sat back down in their previous positions. Without even asking, Tonja presented Preach with his own cup of coffee. The tension emanating off of him was mounting, the room was getting thick with nervous energy. She lightened the mood by engaging the squirmy-wormy Groza in conversation, "you wanna go potty? Hmmm? You need to go pee-pees?" The simple sight of a 100 pound doberman twirling in circles on his hind legs with a FBI agent talking to him in a baby talk voice was enough to lift the air slightly. The dancing doberman went prancing down the hallway with Tonja following behind.
Benji asked again,"so, what's up, dude?"
Preach took a big swig of his coffee, set it down on the table and leaned forward towards Mulder and Scully's side of the room. "I, uh, I dunno where to start. My office was broke into sometime yesterday. It's a wreck, there's shit everywhere."
Mulder glanced sideways at his partner, Scully likewise was glancing at him. They'd been down this road more than once. Without even having done much investigating into this case, the pieces were starting to fall into place in an all-too-familiar pattern.
O'Rourke caught their glances as well, he was familiar with all they'd been through. That's why he'd sought their help with this matter. If it walked like a duck, talked like a duck, these two were expert hunters of water fowl. "Anything missing?"
Preach took another nervous gulp from his mug. "Hell if I know. It looks like a tornado rip-roared through. My computer's still there, but beats me if it's been hacked into or not. I saw all that bullshit, turned around and made my way here. Security is pulling up tape, but I doubt there'll be anything on it. With how shitty it was out last night it's possible that someone broke perimeter without getting caught." He reached into his pants pocket and pulled out a slender flash drive. "Good thing I never took this out my pocket." He thrust it towards his friend Benji.
Scully was actually this first to take the flash drive from Preach's fingers. With her laptop at the ready, she expertly slid the card into it's awaiting port. Mulder was constantly amazed that she could plug any USB in the right way the first time every time.
Bewitched and bewitching creature that she was!
Scully's delicate fingers played deftly over the keyboard, a blur of pale white and the contents of the flash card were displayed on the laptop's screen. Mulder was the only one in the room that heard the *hmmmm* coming from Scully's right eyebrow at what shown at them. What looked like nonsensical gibberish to Benji and Preach struck very raw, very honed nerves in her and her partner.
Navajo.
Shit.
Fuck.
Goddamnit!
She'd begrudgingly agreed with Mulder's suspicions about this case two days ago. Up until then they'd been having a lucky run on nice, normal investigations. Well, what passed for nice and normal when it came to the X Files. The symbols on the screen before them had promising whispers of taking The Conspiracy to a whole nother level. With The Consortium having all been burned into human jerky at El Rico last year she'd been hoping, praying that the worst was behind them.
Human jerky?
The Conspiracy over?
Scully long ago admitted that she'd been hanging around Mulder too long. His sick and twisted humor had influenced hers into the downright morbid.
Without her even noticing, Mulder and O'Rourke had slid beside her on the couch, flanking her. O'Rourke's chubby butt was perched on the arm. Mulder's left leg pressed against her right, his left arm instinctively snaking around her back to put up a defensive front against the fellow agent. He wasn't aware of the action, he just always bore a protectiveness when it came to Scully.
O'Rourke ran his finger across the laptop screen. "What the hell is this? Preach? Man, where'd this come from?" He looked at his still paranoid, still fidgety friend.
Preach looked from Benji O'Rourke to Mulder and Scully. The poor man was a nervous wreck. He ran both hands along the sides of his bald head. Nervous habit. Walter Skinner had the same mannerism. "Those were more of the files the crews found when they unlocked that safe. The whole shindig seemed fishy from the beginning, so I scanned all those files, sent you just enough to get your attention and prayed to hell somebody knows what the fuck is going on!" He waved a hand disgustedly at the computer. "Like a dumbass I had the originals locked in my desk. I'll bet the Brownies choking in the Super Bowl that that's what the fuckers took."
Benji grinned devilishly. "Against the Eagles? No way. Philly chokes more than a hooker sucking down elephant dick. But, you're right. The originals are probably long gone."
Scully exchanged a quick look of amusement with her partner, O'Rourke was certainly a colorful character and they both would readily work with him again if the future ever beckoned for it.
Mulder tapped her shoulder, pointing to the screen. "Scully, look here. And here. I recognize these words."
She followed his finger along the incomprehensible script. She did too. They were words that had been made familiar to her very early on in her work with Mulder.
Vaccination.
Merchandise.
Fuck. It. All.
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