Title - Kismet

Author - Jaimee Kidder

Email - invisibleshining@ivillage.com

Rating - PG-13 (for violence)

Classification - XRA

Spoilers - Herrenvolk/Talitha Cumi, Fight the Future, Triangle, Two Fathers/One Son, Three of a Kind

Keywords - Mulder/Scully romance

Summary - Mulder and Scully investigate a seemingly meaningless murder in a small farming town in Alabama and suddenly find themselves caught in the middle of events that could lead to the end.

::whirrrrr:: "I made this!"

Disclaimer: I don't own any of the characters in this story. I wish I was Scully and owned Mulder, but such is not the case. If I did, this would be an episode -- or two, or five -- of the show, not some story that Chris Carter will prob'ly never read. :) The secondary characters are mine (so there!). But Mulder, Scully, and the rest are all CC's (hail to the man!), 1013's, and Fox's. Too bad for me. ;-)

Oh yeah...and I borrowed Celine Dion's "Because You Loved Me"...so thank you, Celine, for singing such a lovely (and shippery) song!

.kismet.

.deep.into.that.darkness.

A.D. Skinner's office

7:36 p.m.

The phone rang.

Assistant Director Walter Skinner stared at it meditatively, wondering if the world as he knew it would end if he just smashed the idiotic thing to bits.

Nah. He'd probably just wind up in a mental institution.

The phone rang again.

Mentally cursing Alexander Graham Bell, Skinner picked up the receiver.

"Skinner."

"Sir, it's Scully."

As if that explained the purpose of the call. "What is it, Agent Scully?"

"It's Agent Mulder." Skinner sat up straighter, picking up on a barely concealed panic that underlined Scully's quiet tone. She took a breath and went on.

"We've been on this case --"

"The murder...the one in Alabama."

"That's right. Yesterday, we received a call from Assistant Director Kersh. He informed us that the case had been closed and that we should report back to the Bureau as soon as possible."

"Go on," Skinner directed, wondering anxiously where this was heading.

"Agent Mulder...strongly felt that the case had been mishandled, and that it was a cover-up for a greater purpose. I had begun to agree with him...in fact, that belief was strengthened by several attempts on both of our lives.

"But somewhere between Alabama and here, something happened. To Agent Mulder. He's been talking strangely, and has nearly run off the road -- intentionally, I believe. He threatened me with bodily harm not an hour ago."

Skinner stood up. "Where are you both now, Agent Scully?"

"Roanoke...the Days Inn right off of Interstate 81. Exit 146. Please get here as soon as you can, sir. There's a lake about a mile away...he keeps talking about it...saying he want to drive straight to hell."

Skinner's breath caught. "Where is Agent Mulder?"

"Taking a shower. I thought this would be a good time to call you."

Only then did Skinner notice that Scully had been speaking unusually quietly during their conversation. "All right, Scully, I'll be there as soon --"

The sound of a door crashing open was clearly audible over the phone.

"Mulder --"

Scully's cell phone dropped to the carpet with a soft thud.

"Scully! Agent Scully! What's going on?"

"Mulder! Let me go!"

"Who you talkin' to? Huh?"

"I don't know what you're talking ab--" The rest was cut off as Scully gasped.

"Maybe talking to Kersh? Tellin' him all about our case? My case?"

"Mulder, we need to get you to a hospital...please...let me go..."

"Agent Mulder!"

"Let...me...go!"

More struggling sounds could be heard plainly over the phone. Skinner was unable to move as he pressed the receiver to his unbelieving ear.

Then there was a hard thud against a wall and the sound of a punch. Mulder moaned angrily.

"Sir! I need help!"

Running footsteps and the sound of drawers being frantically opened, then Scully's voice again, screaming incredulously, with angry tears obvious in her voice, "My gun! Mulder, you took my gun!"

Click.

Scully was unable to stifle a sob. Then, "Mulder, put it down." Slowly, calmly, the way she learned at Quantico. The part of Skinner's mind that wasn't thinking about the danger she was in held admiration for Scully.

Another punch, this one harder, and the sound of someone collapsing on the floor. Scully howled in pain, her voice close to where the phone lay on the floor. She was furious now.

"Put the gun down! Mulder, drop it! Now, you son of a --"

A gunshot.

A cry of pain ripped through the phone.

Heavy footsteps were becoming more and more audible.

Then a crunching sound, and the line went dead.

Skinner remained standing, stunned out of all capability to move. Then, snapped out of his horrified trance, Skinner slammed the phone into the cradle and threw the office door open. His secretary looked up, surprised.

"Kimberly! Get on the phone!"

10:47 p.m.

Days Inn

Roanoke

The door on motel room 116 burst open and a team of FBI agents swarmed in. Skinner came in last, unwilling to admit to himself that he was afraid. His fears were more than justified. The scene that met his eyes looked like any one of the hundreds of violent crime cases he'd handled.

But this one was different.

Working on so many horrific cases bred a sort of survival instinct -- learning to detach oneself from the cases and deal with them in a cool, professional manner. That ability was the only thing that kept Skinner from leaving the room. Forcing himself to view each detail in the room as though he was looking at a series of crime scene photographs, he walked slowly through the doorway and into the room.

Two broken lamps.

The shower curtain and bathroom door hanging open and a fist-sized dent in the wall where the doorknob had smashed against it.

Watery footprints leading from the bathroom in long, purposeful strides.

Wrinkled, disheveled twin beds that looked like they had been jumped on a couple of times by a two-year-old.

All the drawers in the cabinet yanked open and hanging ajar, with the few contents scattered on the floor.

A dried pool of blood on the floor near the dresser with a trail leading out the door to the parking lot.

A crushed cell phone, lying where it had been dropped on the floor.

Skinner could only imagine what had happened, but he couldn't imagine why in his wildest nightmare. He leaned against the wall and closed his eyes, trying unsuccessfully not to remember the scene as it had unfolded over the phone.

"Sir! We've found a trail!"

Skinner pulled himself up and followed the agent out the door and into a car, tiredly resigned to listening to the endless torrent of information.

"It was a...'98 Camry. Beige. Judging by the marks in the dust, we figure your guy dragged her out to the car. Now you said the guy had mentioned something about the nearby lake. The road leading to Carvins Cove Reservoir, a few minutes away, was the first place we checked. And we got lucky. Good thing your guy's a predictable psycho," he chuckled.

"Understand one thing," Skinner exploded quietly. "This is not a game; it is a case. And their names are Agents Mulder and Scully; you will refer to them as such. Is this clear?"

The agent nodded, slightly confused but unfazed. "Anyway, we found tire tracks at the end of this road, and...well, you can see for yourself."

They parked at the end of the road. Skinner quickly got out of the car and stood up. Clearly visible in the tall, weedy grass were tire tracks. He stared for a second at the tracks, then followed them the remaining 100 yards or so to the shore, hoping as he ran that maybe he would find the car parked somewhere in the grass.

Finally he reached the shore and stopped cold.

The tire tracks went completely into the lake.

Skinner was unable to do anything but stand there, staring blankly into the quiet water.