Title: Blessed Union of Souls I: Not the Doctor 00/11
Author: Somogyi
Email: somogyi02@yahoo.com
Category: SRA
Rating: R for language
Spoilers: Through Season Five
Keywords: M/S UST
Summary: A man from Scully's past returns, asking for her and Mulder's help to
stop the development of a deadly biological weapon. But will the case bring
Mulder and Scully closer together, or tear them apart?
Disclaimer: The X-Files, Dana Scully, Fox Mulder, and all other characters
associated with the series are the property of Chris Carter, Ten-Thirteen
Productions, and the Fox Network. Characters are used without permission and no
profit is being made.
REPOST Notes:
Here it is, over a year-and-a-half since I originally posted "Not the Doctor,"
and finally, its long-awaited sequel, "Deep Water," is done. For those of you
who missed NTD the first time around--or for those of you who read it but are a
bit fuzzy after all these months--I decided it would be best to repot it before
releasing DW. DW is pretty much self-contained, but I think it will make more
sense reading it in the context of NTD--notably how the first story affects the
M/S relationship. Just to add to the confusion, I've finally decided on a name
for this series: "Blessed Union of Souls." Therefore NTD has been renamed BUOS
I: NTD; I am currently looking into changing the title officially in the places
it has been archived. Be on the lookout for BUOS II: DW sometime next week. And,
hopefully, more parts in the series will follow this summer. Enjoy!
-Somogyi 5/1/00
*****
This is my first attempt at an X-Files story, though not my first time writing
fanfic (any X-Men fans out there?). This all began over a year ago, during
Season 4, when I had a vague plot idea for a multi-part storyline. I started
writing last summer, but got a nasty case of writer's block. Then my senior year
of college rolled around, and this project was placed on the back burner.
Needless to say, I was once again inspired, and finally finished this monster.
Truly a labor of love.
First and foremost, I'd like to thank Mirage, co-plotter, beta-reader, editor,
soundingboard, and friend extraordinaire. This story would never have been
written without her input. Thank you, Mirage! I'd also like to thank my college
roomiest, Marianna and Tam, not only for getting me hooked on the show, but also
for coming up with the title. "Not the Doctor" is an Alanis Morissette song, and
the lyrics seemed perfect for what Scully will go through in the later parts.
Don't want to ruin the story for you-- look for the lyrics beginning with
Chapter Five.
"Not the Doctor" can actually be considered the set-up for a much more extensive
storyline. If you'd like to read what happens next, please let me know. All
comments and criticisms are welcomed at somogyi02@yahoo.com. Please tell me what
you think. Thanks for reading!
*****
Title: Blessed Union of Souls I: Not the Doctor 01/11
Author: Somogyi
Email: somogyi02@yahoo.com
Category: SRA
Rating: R for language
Spoilers: Through Season Five
Keywords: M/S UST
Summary: A man from Scully's past returns, asking for her and Mulder's help to
stop the development of a deadly biological weapon. But will the case bring
Mulder and Scully closer together, or tear them apart?
Disclaimer: The X-Files, Dana Scully, Fox Mulder, and all other characters
associated with the series are the property of Chris Carter, Ten-Thirteen
Productions, and the Fox Network. Characters are used without permission and no
profit is being made.
*****
"Not the Doctor"
by Somogyi
somogyi02@yahoo.com
Chapter 1
Ripping the strip of duct tape with her teeth, Dana Scully firmly pressed it
down, securing the cuff of her glove to her sleeve. She repeated the motion with
her other glove. After checking both arms for any holes, she pulled the
headpiece of her biohazard suit over her head and fastened the zipper. With a
sigh, she turned to the other woman suited up beside her. "Are you ready, Dr.
Sudhir?" she asked her.
"Whenever you are, Agent Scully," she replied.
"All right. Let's do it."
Scully had to give Amita Sudhir credit. She had been with the CDC for a number
of years, and was one of the most competent infectious disease specialists in
the country. Dealing with these kinds of situations was a regular occurrence for
her. Scully, however, could count the number of times she had worn a biohazard
suit on the fingers of one hand. To say it was a stressful situation for the
unaccustomed was like saying that a tornado was just a strong wind. Even the
best and the brightest scientists in the laboratory do not necessarily function
effectively under level four conditions. The suits alone were cumbersome; the
knowledge that one clumsy move with any of countless sharp surgical instruments
could compromise the suit and thus expose the wearer to a potentially fatal
biological hazard was enough to paralyze even the most stalwart of people.
As they headed toward the air lock, Scully looked over at Dr. Sudhir, and saw
the young Indian woman watching her, trying to gauge her mental state. Scully
walked carefully, aware of the objects around her, trying to maintain the
confidence that she usually possessed in the field or the autopsy bay. During
their briefing, they discussed the situation--that they would be performing an
autopsy on a woman who was believed to have died from a fast-acting and
extremely virulent strain of anthrax. That any exposure to them would in all
likelihood result in their own deaths.
One had to have a healthy respect for these sort of agents, Scully knew, to
realize that an organism that cannot be seen with the naked eye had the
potential to take over people's bodies and destroy them before they could even
launch a sufficient defense. It was all right to fear the power of these agents,
but you could not let that terror overwhelm you. If you did, then you were
liable to be careless, and that kind of mistake could lead not only to your own
death, but also that of those around you should you panic.
They entered the main room, where the body was located, and fastened the tubes
to their suits that would provide them with fresh oxygen. Scully was assaulted
with a memory of another room, another body lying before her, a different person
by her side. The last time she wore one of these suits, Agent Pendrell and she
had been examining a scientist who had been assaulted by a black cancer that had
managed to penetrate his suit. Pendrell was petrified of entering the room,
wearing only the same suit that had apparently not protected the victim. Scully
coolly reminded him that the suits would provide sufficient protection, that
they would be fine. In truth, she, too, had been nervous about entering the
room, but she had also known that allowing such anxiety to consume her would
have been a potentially fatal blunder. She supposed she must have managed to
exude sufficient confidence, because Pendrell--sporting a stiff upper lip--
secured his suit and followed her faithfully into the lion's den, performing his
duties with his usual zeal. Of course, the fact that he had a bit of a crush on
her might also have influenced his actions.
Thoughts of Pendrell brought a lump to the back of her throat. He was a capable
agent, always willing to help her and Mulder's investigations however he could.
Like the body lying on the autopsy table before her, Pendrell was also a victim,
accidentally caught in the crossfire during one of their cases to uncover a
government and military conspiracy. Another innocent, like her sister, whose
life was tragically cut short for a cause in which he was not directly involved,
to which he had not willingly committed himself.
Scully suddenly had the sensation of being suffocated. She was not usually
claustrophobic, but it had become difficult to draw a breath. She closed her
eyes and cleared her mind, willing herself to relax. She took a few deep
breaths, and the sensation passed.
"Agent Scully?" Dr. Sudhir asked, approaching her. "Are you all right? Is it
your air supply?"
Opening her eyes, Scully looked over at her. "I'm fine," she said before
proceeding over to the body. She had a job to do, and knew she had to focus all
of her attention on the task at hand.
She turned on the tape recorder, and adjusted the microphone so that it was near
her headpiece. "The victim, Elizabeth Blair, is a thirty-five year old Caucasian
woman, one hundred seventy-six centimeters in height. . . ."
For the next several minutes, they proceeded with a superficial examination.
"Take a look at these," Dr. Sudhir said, pointing to one of many papules that
covered the victim's body. "See how it has several satellite lesions?"
"Most of the other lesions have those surrounding ones as well," Scully said,
examining one on the upper arm. "This one appears to have enlarged, ulcerated,
and to have excreted a dense, black eschar that has adhered to the area and
crusted over."
"And notice how the underlying skin has become elevated?"
"Yes, subcutaneous edema."
"This definitely looks like anthrax," Dr. Sudhir said. "Unless treated at
inception, these lesions can persist for two weeks or longer. I find it amazing
that she wasn't treated for these symptoms."
"Blair had reported to work yesterday morning, appearing asymptomatic, according
to her coworkers. Several hours later, she complained of shortness of breath.
She was found by a lab tech after having collapsed in the bathroom. By that
time, she was suffering from a high fever, and already covered with the
pustules. She went into convulsions and died before the EMTs arrived."
"Any ideas as to how she was infected?"
"Her employer, Andraven Laboratories, stated that she was working with _E. coli_
cultures obtained from cattle rumens. But she also dealt with blood and tissue
samples. They think perhaps one of those samples was contaminated. We've
gathered samples from the lab, and are testing them for anthrax, but thus far
they've come up negative."
Looking at the body, Dr. Sudhir shook her head. "Even acute anthrax typically
takes one to two days before death occurs. This is highly unusual. No strains of
_Bacillus anthracis_ I've ever dealt with have such a rapid course of action."
*Welcome to the world of the X-Files, Dr. Sudhir. `Highly unusual' doesn't even
begin to scratch the surface.* "Shall we proceed with the autopsy?"
*****
Scully was exhausted after the autopsy. It took much longer than she expected.
Usually, these procedures did not bother her, but the added pressure to be
extremely careful not to make any sudden movements that would compromise the
integrity of the suits took its toll on her. The tension had settled in her
shoulders and back, the aching of which was nearly equaled by her throbbing
temples.
She tried not to rush through decontamination procedures, knowing that she must
take as much care there as she did throughout the procedure. Scully bid Dr.
Sudhir farewell in the locker room as the other woman headed for the showers.
She was already dreaming about the soothing effects of the hot water massaging
her taxed muscles, but there was something she had to do first. Opening her
locker, she pulled her cell-phone from her bag and eased her weary body onto one
of the wooden benches.
"Mulder," came the voice from the other line.
"Mulder, it's me."
"Hi, Scully. How'd the autopsy go?"
"All right. Just finished it, in fact."
"Everything go okay?"
"Yes, no major catastrophes. Dr. Sudhir and I both made it through in one
piece."
"Good. So, what's the verdict?"
"Well, we've ruled the cause of death to be septicemia."
"That's blood poisoning, right?"
"Uh huh. Due to the presence of _Bacillus anthracis_. A particularly lethal
form, it appears. We've sent various tissue samples to the lab to be stained,
but from the preliminary slides we made, it appears that Blair's entire body was
inundated with the bacteria. Her skin was covered with dozens of lesions."
"Sounds lovely. So you think she could have been accidentally exposed to a
contaminated tissue or culture sample, as Andraven's lab claims?"
"It's possible, I suppose. But given the rapid onset of the disease, it had to
be a sample she came into contact with yesterday morning. We've tracked them all
down, and they're at our lab being tested. If one of them contained the
bacteria, they would have found it by now. Plus, it's highly probable that more
than one sample would have been contaminated, given the contagious nature of the
bacteria."
"A little too convenient, huh? So you subscribe to your pal Liles' theory?"
"I think that it's likely that Andraven learned of Blair's involvement in the
switching of samples, and that he ordered her infected with the engineered
disease in order to silence her and possibly also to warn Tim that they're on to
him."
"What about the sample your buddy gave us? Was it what he said it was?"
"I haven't had a chance to check back since early this morning, but preliminary
findings indicated that yes, it was, in fact, anthrax."
"Well, it looks like we've got enough evidence to build a solid case against
Andraven."
"Mulder, even with the sample we got from Tim, it may not be enough."
"Liles said he was willing to testify."
"But it will be Tim's word against Andraven's. And Andraven is a successful
businessman with a lot of clout. He'll get a top-notch lawyer that will find a
way to make Tim look like a disgruntled employee seeking revenge. We've got to
find a way to link the anthrax directly back to Andraven's lab."
"How do you propose we do that?"
"We have to find a sample in one of the labs."
Mulder snorted. "We'd have a better chance at getting the Smoking Man to give up
his Morleys. If Andraven ordered Blair's death, as you suggest, then he's
obviously on to us. . . ."
"And so he's likely removed any evidence from his labs," Scully finished with a
sigh.
"It'll still be worth a shot to search them, though, wouldn't it?"
"A shot in the dark. . . ."
"Well, between Blair's death, the sample we've got, and Liles' testimony, I
think we've got sufficient evidence for a warrant to search the laboratory and
bring Andraven in," Mulder said. "I'm going to go speak to Skinner to
requisition one."
"Sounds good. That should leave me with enough time to shower and change, and
then I can meet you at Andraven Labs."
"You sound really tired, Scully. If you're too beat, I can do it by myself."
"Thanks for the concern, Mulder, but I'm fine. A little soap and water, and I'll
be as good as new. Besides, I want to be there when we charge Andraven."
"All right, then. Say in an hour?"
"Sounds good. Tim's in protective custody?"
"Yeah. Luh and Winkler are with your chum at a safe house."
"Once we make our move, we have to ensure that he gets 'round-the-clock
protection."
"I'll mention it to Skinner when I see him."
"Okay. Oh, and just for the record, Mulder: Tim and I may have gone to med
school together, but I do not consider him a `pal' or a `buddy' or a `chum'. He
is merely an acquaintance who is serving as an informant on this case. Nothing
more."
There was a low rumbling noise as Mulder quietly chuckled. "Sure. Fine. Whatever
you say, Scully. I'll see you in sixty."
Scully could not help but smile to herself as she put away her cell-phone.
Grabbing a towel, she made her way into the shower. She sighed as the hot water
beat down on her neck and back, soothing her aching muscles. Closing her eyes,
she replayed the events of a few days earlier, recalling how she and Mulder got
involved in this case in the first place.
It had been just after two a.m. when Scully had gotten a phone call from Tim
Liles, a former medical school classmate who now worked for Andraven
Laboratories. She had not heard from him since then, and the strained voice on
the phone was quite the opposite of the confident, ambitious young man she
remembered from years earlier.
According to the press releases, the lab Liles worked in was researching
anaerobic bacteria found in the cow rumen so that humans would be able to digest
the cellulose found in plants. He alluded that the research he was currently
involved in was not quite so innocuous, and right up her alley. He needed her
help, he said, and asked to meet with her in a local diner. Curiosity piqued,
she agreed
An hour later, she and Mulder joined Liles at a back booth in the DeWitt Diner.
"I filled Mulder in with what little I know about Andraven Labs," Scully told
Tim, "but from what you've said, it sounds like there's much more happening
behind closed doors that I don't know about."
"No one does, except those of us working in the lab--and Andraven himself. The
entire project is his idea, actually."
"What project is that?" Mulder asked. "Scully said something about bacteria in
cow guts. . . ."
Tim's eyes narrowed in irritation as he replied. "Well, it is *bacteria*, and it
does involve *cattle* to some degree--" He stopped short upon seeing the waitress
approach.
"Here you go," she said, setting two cups of coffee in front of Mulder and
Scully. "Enjoy."
"Thank you," Scully said. As soon as the woman was out of earshot, she pressed
Tim to continue. "What kind of bacteria, Tim?"
Tim took a deep breath, let it out slowly. "Anthrax. But we're not talking about
your typical strain here, Dana. Normally, this disease can wipe out entire
herds--cattle, sheep, goats, swine--over the course of days or weeks. _Bacillus
anthracis_ forms spores that are resistant to heat, low temperatures, prolonged
drying, even chemical disinfectants. We've used biological engineering to create
a resistant strain; even at extreme conditions that cause the typical bacteria
to sporulate, it's still viable. At the same time, we've managed to increase its
virulence: not only will it remain in vegetative form and multiply at an
accelerated rate, but once it has infected a host it will also spread very
quickly. We're talking hours instead of days until the host organism will
succumb."
"So, what are you suggesting, Dr. Liles?" Mulder asked, leaning back in the
booth and stretching his arms over the back of the seat. "That Andraven is
looking to off the competition's cattle? That he'll take over the world's beef
and leather markets and we'll all be eating McAndraven burgers and wearing Air
Andravens?"
"Even if Andraven's goal were this simple, the unforeseen repercussions could be
far more devastating than the situation you posit, Mr. Mulder," Tim replied, his
face cold as stone as he met Mulder's gaze and held it. "A number of years ago,
in response to Japan's use of biologics as weapons, Britain decided to further
develop their own biological warfare program. Their focus was on anthrax, and
its killing ability. Their `laboratory' consisted of Gruinard, an island just
northeast of Scotland. Their `guinea pigs' were thousands of sheep. But their
testing was so extensive that the disease spread throughout the entire island."
"I remember reading about this," Scully said, nodding at the familiarity of the
events Tim described. "Even after terminating their program, they were unable to
decontaminate the island. Until this day, it's considered an infected area and
is off limits."
"So you see, Mr. Mulder, even if the victims were cows or sheep or pigs, the
effects could nonetheless be catastrophic. The agricultural industry would be in
ruins. But farm animals are not Andraven's intended victims."
"What, then?" Scully asked.
"Not *what*, Dana. *Whom*."
Her eyes widened as she began to comprehend what Tim was implying. "You can't
mean to say--"
"Why not? Anthrax, botulism . . . they've both been used as agents of biological
warfare in the past. Chernobyl wasn't the only type of accident to happen to the
former Soviet Union's industry, you know. Boris Yeltsin finally admitted five or
so years ago that the anthrax outbreak that occurred in Sverdlovsk in `79 was
due to an explosion at a biological weapon production plant. And by the time the
Iraqis invaded Kuwait in `90, they had already spent close to $100 million on
biological weapons--accumulating quite a stash of them, including agents for the
spread of botulism and anthrax. Official sources have openly estimated that
close to twenty countries have, desire, or are in the planning stages for
biological weapons, Iraq among them. One of these nations is paying Andraven a
pretty penny for all the work we've been doing to develop a more powerful form
of anthrax."
"Are you suggesting that Saddam Hussein is backing your lab in return for
biological weapons he can use in the future against enemy troops?" Scully
queried, unable to believe the words that had just passed her lips.
"While I'm not privy as to *whom* Andraven's financial backer is, that is
essentially what I'm suggesting, Dana."
"Hold on just a minute," Mulder said, shaking his head. "I thought you two just
got through saying that when the Brits tried to perform a controlled experiment
on sheep it got totally out of hand. How would Hussein or any other would-be
world-conquering megalomaniac be able to utilize such agents without infecting
his own troops?"
"Due to the miracle of modern technology, Mr. Mulder," Tim replied, his tone
bittersweet. "We used genetic engineering to increase the virulence of the
strain. Similar procedures could potentially be used in order to create a
particular strain that only a special vaccine can be used to protect against.
Imagine, if you will, soldiers inoculated against an especially virulent strain
of anthrax. When they are about to engage the enemy, planes are used to spread
the bacteria throughout the battlefield. While they remain immune, their
opponents will drop like flies. They would be able to win a war in a matter of
days. A biological agent could also potentially be designed so that it would
attack only those people with a particular genetic makeup, making it a highly
specialized and effective means of targeting one's enemies. The possibilities
are limited only by one's imagination and the capabilities of science."
They all sat quietly for several long moments as the enormity of Tim's
statements weighed upon them. With a weary sigh, Scully was the first to break
the silence. "Tim, there's one thing that I don't understand," she began softly.
"What's that, Dana?"
"Why come forth with this information now? The kind of work you've described--
genetic engineering of bacteria--is not a simple process. If you've been
involved with this project--and presumably working on it for a while now--then
surely you had to realize the consequences and the applications of your
research."
Closing his eyes, Tim slowly nodded. He apparently had been expecting this
question.
"In other words, why the sudden bout of conscience?" Mulder asked with his usual
degree of tact. "And how the hell do we fit into this picture?"
Across the table, Tim sighed heavily, hands opening as he searched for the
words--and possibly the courage--to answer. "I admit, when I initially signed
onto the project, I knew that we were going to be creating a very lethal strain
of anthrax," Tim began slowly. "And, at the time, that knowledge didn't really
bother me. This was a challenging venture--one that would enable me to really
push myself and my abilities. If successful, our research would have a long-
lasting impact in the scientific community. And, well . . . the pay wasn't too
shabby, either.
"There were a number of us working on the project, each approaching the problem
from our own unique perspective. Turned out that my methods proved the most
successful. A couple months back, as my results started coming in, I quickly
rose in position in the lab. I'm not running it or anything, but since my
techniques are vital to the next step of the project, I've been granted higher
clearance. Out of curiosity, I started asking some questions--and I've thus
found out that I'm privy to more information than I had when I first signed on
for the project. I learned that our funding comes from some foreign power. My
guess is somewhere in the Middle East. Hell, Dana, you might not have been too
far off suggesting Saddam Hussein. I've also discovered that Andraven
Laboratories has apparently been involved with other agents of biological
warfare, the details of which I don't know. All I heard was something about a
test site in Canada."
Mulder and Scully exchanged a knowing glance.
"In addition, I've overheard Andraven and some others talking about the next
step of the project." Averting his gaze, Tim reached for his tea. He fidgeted in
his seat, looking down, as though he could feel their eyes upon him.
"They-they're now looking for human test subjects," he said finally, his voice
little more than a whisper. Slowly, he raised his head, and managed to meet
Scully's gaze. "Dana, this strain we've created can drop a rat in less than
twelve hours. And let me tell you, it's not a pretty death. High fever,
difficulty breathing, trembling, convulsions. And now they want to do this to
human beings. I haven't figured out where they're going to get these people
from. At first I assumed prisoners, the terminally ill--volunteers that have
nothing to lose. But then I realized--"
"Who in their right mind would willingly subject themselves to a painful death?"
Mulder interrupted.
Slowly, Tim nodded. "I overheard some of Andraven's people discussing the
project. Th-they . . . they were talking about . . ." Tim's voice trailed off as
he brought a quivering hand to his mouth and ran a hand over his goatee. He took
a few shaky breaths before he was able to continue.
Scully moved her head closer in order to hear his words.
"They mentioned using children as test subjects," Tim told them reluctantly.
"When I heard that, Dana, I felt so repulsed--with Andraven, the lab, myself
most of all. I felt so dirty, so vile, knowing that my work was going to be used
to hurt innocent people. Using biological warfare as a strategy during war is
one thing--at least, I had somehow managed to rationalize its use and convince
myself that such a tactic was excusable--but, for God's sakes, using kids? It's
incomprehensible to me. . . . And where the hell are they planning to get them?
Do they use orphans? Kidnap children from people's homes? Or maybe they're going
to attack a school bus?"
As Tim spouted his conjecture, Scully had to fight the urge to scream at him to
stop. His words were hitting painfully close to home--for both she and her
partner. Rationally, she knew that he did not realize the implications of his
statements. Nonetheless, she wondered how Tim would react if he knew his
suppositions were likely not far from the truth, at least as far as Mulder and
she had seen and experienced.
Beside her, Mulder had gone tense. Mulder opened his mouth to speak, but could
not find the words. Licking his dry lips, he tried again. "Did- did they say
when they were going to perform these experiments?"
Slowly, Tim shook his head. "I'm not sure when--for all I know they may have
started already. Hell, given their involvement in the past with other agents of
biological warfare, these kind of tests may have been going on for years."
Seeing a shiver run through Mulder, Scully slowly reached over and put a hand on
his forearm, giving it a gentle squeeze. She glanced back at Tim, and saw that
he was watching her curiously. Feeling her cheeks grow warm, she quickly broke
eye contact. But her hand remained where it was.
"I realized at that point that I had to do something to stop this," Tim
continued, glancing from Scully to Mulder. "It wouldn't be enough for me to
merely step away--not that I think they'd let me, especially if they realized
how much I knew. No, even if I walked away now, they could still use my work to
kill countless people--innocent people. I want to put an end to it, once and for
all. I want Andraven to answer for his crimes."
"So you want us to open a case, and investigate the true nature of the research
going on at Andraven Laboratories?" Mulder asked, his tone returning to normal.
"For all the good it'll do," Scully chimed in. "Microbiological research,
whether utilizing harmless or virulent organisms, will look the same as far as
laboratory set-up. It's not until you start examining samples under the
microscope that their true nature becomes evident. If we're going to have any
chance of making charges stick, we're going to need definitive proof."
"Meaning a sample of the anthrax strain?" Mulder inquired.
She nodded. "And we'll never be able to get that if Andraven knows we're on to
him."
"I know," Tim said. "But I think *I* can get you that proof."
"How?" Mulder asked.
"It won't be easy. Security is tight, and procedures are strict in my lab. Every
piece of equipment, every drop of reagent, is accounted for. A good friend of
mine works in another lab, on one of the projects that the public knows about,
where rules aren't so stringent. She's willing to give me an innocuous culture--
a placebo, effectively--that I can switch for an anthrax sample, so that I can
smuggle it out without it being missed."
"You're sure you can trust her?" Mulder questioned.
Tim nodded. "Yeah, we did out post-doc together, and for a while we used to go
out. I haven't told her much--I figure, the less she knows, the better--but
she's willing to help me out."
"You're incurring an awfully big risk, Tim," Scully told him. "Are you sure you
want to go through with this?"
"Dana, the way I see it, if I can save at least one life that would have been
destroyed by this bastard Andraven, then any risk is worth it."
"Pretty impressive words, Liles, coming from a man who's going to sneak a little
tube of bacteria out under his lab coat to ease his conscience," Mulder
commented dryly. "Too bad it won't mean shit as far as the courts are
concerned."
Tim stared at Mulder, puzzled. "What do you mean?"
"Even if you get us that vial and it proves to have a killer strain of anthrax
in it, it's not going to do us a damn bit of good. We're not going to be able to
link it back to Andraven or his lab. It's not enough."
Tim looked from Mulder to Scully.
"Mulder's right, Tim. We're going to need your testimony if we're to have any
hopes of putting Andraven away."
"You willing to put your money where your mouth is?" Mulder asked him.
Tim went a deathly shade of white. With two shaking hands, he brought his cup of
tea to his mouth. Slowly, he placed it back down again. He picked up his napkin
and wiped his mouth. Watching his every move, Mulder and Scully waited anxiously
for his reply. Finally, he looked up at them. Then, slowly, he nodded his head.
"All right," Tim whispered. " I'm willing to do whatever it takes to see justice
served."
End Chapter 1
*****
Author: Somogyi
Email: somogyi02@yahoo.com
Category: SRA
Rating: R for language
Spoilers: Through Season Five
Keywords: M/S UST
Summary: A man from Scully's past returns, asking for her and Mulder's help to
stop the development of a deadly biological weapon. But will the case bring
Mulder and Scully closer together, or tear them apart?
Disclaimer: The X-Files, Dana Scully, Fox Mulder, and all other characters
associated with the series are the property of Chris Carter, Ten-Thirteen
Productions, and the Fox Network. Characters are used without permission and no
profit is being made.
REPOST Notes:
Here it is, over a year-and-a-half since I originally posted "Not the Doctor,"
and finally, its long-awaited sequel, "Deep Water," is done. For those of you
who missed NTD the first time around--or for those of you who read it but are a
bit fuzzy after all these months--I decided it would be best to repot it before
releasing DW. DW is pretty much self-contained, but I think it will make more
sense reading it in the context of NTD--notably how the first story affects the
M/S relationship. Just to add to the confusion, I've finally decided on a name
for this series: "Blessed Union of Souls." Therefore NTD has been renamed BUOS
I: NTD; I am currently looking into changing the title officially in the places
it has been archived. Be on the lookout for BUOS II: DW sometime next week. And,
hopefully, more parts in the series will follow this summer. Enjoy!
-Somogyi 5/1/00
*****
This is my first attempt at an X-Files story, though not my first time writing
fanfic (any X-Men fans out there?). This all began over a year ago, during
Season 4, when I had a vague plot idea for a multi-part storyline. I started
writing last summer, but got a nasty case of writer's block. Then my senior year
of college rolled around, and this project was placed on the back burner.
Needless to say, I was once again inspired, and finally finished this monster.
Truly a labor of love.
First and foremost, I'd like to thank Mirage, co-plotter, beta-reader, editor,
soundingboard, and friend extraordinaire. This story would never have been
written without her input. Thank you, Mirage! I'd also like to thank my college
roomiest, Marianna and Tam, not only for getting me hooked on the show, but also
for coming up with the title. "Not the Doctor" is an Alanis Morissette song, and
the lyrics seemed perfect for what Scully will go through in the later parts.
Don't want to ruin the story for you-- look for the lyrics beginning with
Chapter Five.
"Not the Doctor" can actually be considered the set-up for a much more extensive
storyline. If you'd like to read what happens next, please let me know. All
comments and criticisms are welcomed at somogyi02@yahoo.com. Please tell me what
you think. Thanks for reading!
*****
Title: Blessed Union of Souls I: Not the Doctor 01/11
Author: Somogyi
Email: somogyi02@yahoo.com
Category: SRA
Rating: R for language
Spoilers: Through Season Five
Keywords: M/S UST
Summary: A man from Scully's past returns, asking for her and Mulder's help to
stop the development of a deadly biological weapon. But will the case bring
Mulder and Scully closer together, or tear them apart?
Disclaimer: The X-Files, Dana Scully, Fox Mulder, and all other characters
associated with the series are the property of Chris Carter, Ten-Thirteen
Productions, and the Fox Network. Characters are used without permission and no
profit is being made.
*****
"Not the Doctor"
by Somogyi
somogyi02@yahoo.com
Chapter 1
Ripping the strip of duct tape with her teeth, Dana Scully firmly pressed it
down, securing the cuff of her glove to her sleeve. She repeated the motion with
her other glove. After checking both arms for any holes, she pulled the
headpiece of her biohazard suit over her head and fastened the zipper. With a
sigh, she turned to the other woman suited up beside her. "Are you ready, Dr.
Sudhir?" she asked her.
"Whenever you are, Agent Scully," she replied.
"All right. Let's do it."
Scully had to give Amita Sudhir credit. She had been with the CDC for a number
of years, and was one of the most competent infectious disease specialists in
the country. Dealing with these kinds of situations was a regular occurrence for
her. Scully, however, could count the number of times she had worn a biohazard
suit on the fingers of one hand. To say it was a stressful situation for the
unaccustomed was like saying that a tornado was just a strong wind. Even the
best and the brightest scientists in the laboratory do not necessarily function
effectively under level four conditions. The suits alone were cumbersome; the
knowledge that one clumsy move with any of countless sharp surgical instruments
could compromise the suit and thus expose the wearer to a potentially fatal
biological hazard was enough to paralyze even the most stalwart of people.
As they headed toward the air lock, Scully looked over at Dr. Sudhir, and saw
the young Indian woman watching her, trying to gauge her mental state. Scully
walked carefully, aware of the objects around her, trying to maintain the
confidence that she usually possessed in the field or the autopsy bay. During
their briefing, they discussed the situation--that they would be performing an
autopsy on a woman who was believed to have died from a fast-acting and
extremely virulent strain of anthrax. That any exposure to them would in all
likelihood result in their own deaths.
One had to have a healthy respect for these sort of agents, Scully knew, to
realize that an organism that cannot be seen with the naked eye had the
potential to take over people's bodies and destroy them before they could even
launch a sufficient defense. It was all right to fear the power of these agents,
but you could not let that terror overwhelm you. If you did, then you were
liable to be careless, and that kind of mistake could lead not only to your own
death, but also that of those around you should you panic.
They entered the main room, where the body was located, and fastened the tubes
to their suits that would provide them with fresh oxygen. Scully was assaulted
with a memory of another room, another body lying before her, a different person
by her side. The last time she wore one of these suits, Agent Pendrell and she
had been examining a scientist who had been assaulted by a black cancer that had
managed to penetrate his suit. Pendrell was petrified of entering the room,
wearing only the same suit that had apparently not protected the victim. Scully
coolly reminded him that the suits would provide sufficient protection, that
they would be fine. In truth, she, too, had been nervous about entering the
room, but she had also known that allowing such anxiety to consume her would
have been a potentially fatal blunder. She supposed she must have managed to
exude sufficient confidence, because Pendrell--sporting a stiff upper lip--
secured his suit and followed her faithfully into the lion's den, performing his
duties with his usual zeal. Of course, the fact that he had a bit of a crush on
her might also have influenced his actions.
Thoughts of Pendrell brought a lump to the back of her throat. He was a capable
agent, always willing to help her and Mulder's investigations however he could.
Like the body lying on the autopsy table before her, Pendrell was also a victim,
accidentally caught in the crossfire during one of their cases to uncover a
government and military conspiracy. Another innocent, like her sister, whose
life was tragically cut short for a cause in which he was not directly involved,
to which he had not willingly committed himself.
Scully suddenly had the sensation of being suffocated. She was not usually
claustrophobic, but it had become difficult to draw a breath. She closed her
eyes and cleared her mind, willing herself to relax. She took a few deep
breaths, and the sensation passed.
"Agent Scully?" Dr. Sudhir asked, approaching her. "Are you all right? Is it
your air supply?"
Opening her eyes, Scully looked over at her. "I'm fine," she said before
proceeding over to the body. She had a job to do, and knew she had to focus all
of her attention on the task at hand.
She turned on the tape recorder, and adjusted the microphone so that it was near
her headpiece. "The victim, Elizabeth Blair, is a thirty-five year old Caucasian
woman, one hundred seventy-six centimeters in height. . . ."
For the next several minutes, they proceeded with a superficial examination.
"Take a look at these," Dr. Sudhir said, pointing to one of many papules that
covered the victim's body. "See how it has several satellite lesions?"
"Most of the other lesions have those surrounding ones as well," Scully said,
examining one on the upper arm. "This one appears to have enlarged, ulcerated,
and to have excreted a dense, black eschar that has adhered to the area and
crusted over."
"And notice how the underlying skin has become elevated?"
"Yes, subcutaneous edema."
"This definitely looks like anthrax," Dr. Sudhir said. "Unless treated at
inception, these lesions can persist for two weeks or longer. I find it amazing
that she wasn't treated for these symptoms."
"Blair had reported to work yesterday morning, appearing asymptomatic, according
to her coworkers. Several hours later, she complained of shortness of breath.
She was found by a lab tech after having collapsed in the bathroom. By that
time, she was suffering from a high fever, and already covered with the
pustules. She went into convulsions and died before the EMTs arrived."
"Any ideas as to how she was infected?"
"Her employer, Andraven Laboratories, stated that she was working with _E. coli_
cultures obtained from cattle rumens. But she also dealt with blood and tissue
samples. They think perhaps one of those samples was contaminated. We've
gathered samples from the lab, and are testing them for anthrax, but thus far
they've come up negative."
Looking at the body, Dr. Sudhir shook her head. "Even acute anthrax typically
takes one to two days before death occurs. This is highly unusual. No strains of
_Bacillus anthracis_ I've ever dealt with have such a rapid course of action."
*Welcome to the world of the X-Files, Dr. Sudhir. `Highly unusual' doesn't even
begin to scratch the surface.* "Shall we proceed with the autopsy?"
*****
Scully was exhausted after the autopsy. It took much longer than she expected.
Usually, these procedures did not bother her, but the added pressure to be
extremely careful not to make any sudden movements that would compromise the
integrity of the suits took its toll on her. The tension had settled in her
shoulders and back, the aching of which was nearly equaled by her throbbing
temples.
She tried not to rush through decontamination procedures, knowing that she must
take as much care there as she did throughout the procedure. Scully bid Dr.
Sudhir farewell in the locker room as the other woman headed for the showers.
She was already dreaming about the soothing effects of the hot water massaging
her taxed muscles, but there was something she had to do first. Opening her
locker, she pulled her cell-phone from her bag and eased her weary body onto one
of the wooden benches.
"Mulder," came the voice from the other line.
"Mulder, it's me."
"Hi, Scully. How'd the autopsy go?"
"All right. Just finished it, in fact."
"Everything go okay?"
"Yes, no major catastrophes. Dr. Sudhir and I both made it through in one
piece."
"Good. So, what's the verdict?"
"Well, we've ruled the cause of death to be septicemia."
"That's blood poisoning, right?"
"Uh huh. Due to the presence of _Bacillus anthracis_. A particularly lethal
form, it appears. We've sent various tissue samples to the lab to be stained,
but from the preliminary slides we made, it appears that Blair's entire body was
inundated with the bacteria. Her skin was covered with dozens of lesions."
"Sounds lovely. So you think she could have been accidentally exposed to a
contaminated tissue or culture sample, as Andraven's lab claims?"
"It's possible, I suppose. But given the rapid onset of the disease, it had to
be a sample she came into contact with yesterday morning. We've tracked them all
down, and they're at our lab being tested. If one of them contained the
bacteria, they would have found it by now. Plus, it's highly probable that more
than one sample would have been contaminated, given the contagious nature of the
bacteria."
"A little too convenient, huh? So you subscribe to your pal Liles' theory?"
"I think that it's likely that Andraven learned of Blair's involvement in the
switching of samples, and that he ordered her infected with the engineered
disease in order to silence her and possibly also to warn Tim that they're on to
him."
"What about the sample your buddy gave us? Was it what he said it was?"
"I haven't had a chance to check back since early this morning, but preliminary
findings indicated that yes, it was, in fact, anthrax."
"Well, it looks like we've got enough evidence to build a solid case against
Andraven."
"Mulder, even with the sample we got from Tim, it may not be enough."
"Liles said he was willing to testify."
"But it will be Tim's word against Andraven's. And Andraven is a successful
businessman with a lot of clout. He'll get a top-notch lawyer that will find a
way to make Tim look like a disgruntled employee seeking revenge. We've got to
find a way to link the anthrax directly back to Andraven's lab."
"How do you propose we do that?"
"We have to find a sample in one of the labs."
Mulder snorted. "We'd have a better chance at getting the Smoking Man to give up
his Morleys. If Andraven ordered Blair's death, as you suggest, then he's
obviously on to us. . . ."
"And so he's likely removed any evidence from his labs," Scully finished with a
sigh.
"It'll still be worth a shot to search them, though, wouldn't it?"
"A shot in the dark. . . ."
"Well, between Blair's death, the sample we've got, and Liles' testimony, I
think we've got sufficient evidence for a warrant to search the laboratory and
bring Andraven in," Mulder said. "I'm going to go speak to Skinner to
requisition one."
"Sounds good. That should leave me with enough time to shower and change, and
then I can meet you at Andraven Labs."
"You sound really tired, Scully. If you're too beat, I can do it by myself."
"Thanks for the concern, Mulder, but I'm fine. A little soap and water, and I'll
be as good as new. Besides, I want to be there when we charge Andraven."
"All right, then. Say in an hour?"
"Sounds good. Tim's in protective custody?"
"Yeah. Luh and Winkler are with your chum at a safe house."
"Once we make our move, we have to ensure that he gets 'round-the-clock
protection."
"I'll mention it to Skinner when I see him."
"Okay. Oh, and just for the record, Mulder: Tim and I may have gone to med
school together, but I do not consider him a `pal' or a `buddy' or a `chum'. He
is merely an acquaintance who is serving as an informant on this case. Nothing
more."
There was a low rumbling noise as Mulder quietly chuckled. "Sure. Fine. Whatever
you say, Scully. I'll see you in sixty."
Scully could not help but smile to herself as she put away her cell-phone.
Grabbing a towel, she made her way into the shower. She sighed as the hot water
beat down on her neck and back, soothing her aching muscles. Closing her eyes,
she replayed the events of a few days earlier, recalling how she and Mulder got
involved in this case in the first place.
It had been just after two a.m. when Scully had gotten a phone call from Tim
Liles, a former medical school classmate who now worked for Andraven
Laboratories. She had not heard from him since then, and the strained voice on
the phone was quite the opposite of the confident, ambitious young man she
remembered from years earlier.
According to the press releases, the lab Liles worked in was researching
anaerobic bacteria found in the cow rumen so that humans would be able to digest
the cellulose found in plants. He alluded that the research he was currently
involved in was not quite so innocuous, and right up her alley. He needed her
help, he said, and asked to meet with her in a local diner. Curiosity piqued,
she agreed
An hour later, she and Mulder joined Liles at a back booth in the DeWitt Diner.
"I filled Mulder in with what little I know about Andraven Labs," Scully told
Tim, "but from what you've said, it sounds like there's much more happening
behind closed doors that I don't know about."
"No one does, except those of us working in the lab--and Andraven himself. The
entire project is his idea, actually."
"What project is that?" Mulder asked. "Scully said something about bacteria in
cow guts. . . ."
Tim's eyes narrowed in irritation as he replied. "Well, it is *bacteria*, and it
does involve *cattle* to some degree--" He stopped short upon seeing the waitress
approach.
"Here you go," she said, setting two cups of coffee in front of Mulder and
Scully. "Enjoy."
"Thank you," Scully said. As soon as the woman was out of earshot, she pressed
Tim to continue. "What kind of bacteria, Tim?"
Tim took a deep breath, let it out slowly. "Anthrax. But we're not talking about
your typical strain here, Dana. Normally, this disease can wipe out entire
herds--cattle, sheep, goats, swine--over the course of days or weeks. _Bacillus
anthracis_ forms spores that are resistant to heat, low temperatures, prolonged
drying, even chemical disinfectants. We've used biological engineering to create
a resistant strain; even at extreme conditions that cause the typical bacteria
to sporulate, it's still viable. At the same time, we've managed to increase its
virulence: not only will it remain in vegetative form and multiply at an
accelerated rate, but once it has infected a host it will also spread very
quickly. We're talking hours instead of days until the host organism will
succumb."
"So, what are you suggesting, Dr. Liles?" Mulder asked, leaning back in the
booth and stretching his arms over the back of the seat. "That Andraven is
looking to off the competition's cattle? That he'll take over the world's beef
and leather markets and we'll all be eating McAndraven burgers and wearing Air
Andravens?"
"Even if Andraven's goal were this simple, the unforeseen repercussions could be
far more devastating than the situation you posit, Mr. Mulder," Tim replied, his
face cold as stone as he met Mulder's gaze and held it. "A number of years ago,
in response to Japan's use of biologics as weapons, Britain decided to further
develop their own biological warfare program. Their focus was on anthrax, and
its killing ability. Their `laboratory' consisted of Gruinard, an island just
northeast of Scotland. Their `guinea pigs' were thousands of sheep. But their
testing was so extensive that the disease spread throughout the entire island."
"I remember reading about this," Scully said, nodding at the familiarity of the
events Tim described. "Even after terminating their program, they were unable to
decontaminate the island. Until this day, it's considered an infected area and
is off limits."
"So you see, Mr. Mulder, even if the victims were cows or sheep or pigs, the
effects could nonetheless be catastrophic. The agricultural industry would be in
ruins. But farm animals are not Andraven's intended victims."
"What, then?" Scully asked.
"Not *what*, Dana. *Whom*."
Her eyes widened as she began to comprehend what Tim was implying. "You can't
mean to say--"
"Why not? Anthrax, botulism . . . they've both been used as agents of biological
warfare in the past. Chernobyl wasn't the only type of accident to happen to the
former Soviet Union's industry, you know. Boris Yeltsin finally admitted five or
so years ago that the anthrax outbreak that occurred in Sverdlovsk in `79 was
due to an explosion at a biological weapon production plant. And by the time the
Iraqis invaded Kuwait in `90, they had already spent close to $100 million on
biological weapons--accumulating quite a stash of them, including agents for the
spread of botulism and anthrax. Official sources have openly estimated that
close to twenty countries have, desire, or are in the planning stages for
biological weapons, Iraq among them. One of these nations is paying Andraven a
pretty penny for all the work we've been doing to develop a more powerful form
of anthrax."
"Are you suggesting that Saddam Hussein is backing your lab in return for
biological weapons he can use in the future against enemy troops?" Scully
queried, unable to believe the words that had just passed her lips.
"While I'm not privy as to *whom* Andraven's financial backer is, that is
essentially what I'm suggesting, Dana."
"Hold on just a minute," Mulder said, shaking his head. "I thought you two just
got through saying that when the Brits tried to perform a controlled experiment
on sheep it got totally out of hand. How would Hussein or any other would-be
world-conquering megalomaniac be able to utilize such agents without infecting
his own troops?"
"Due to the miracle of modern technology, Mr. Mulder," Tim replied, his tone
bittersweet. "We used genetic engineering to increase the virulence of the
strain. Similar procedures could potentially be used in order to create a
particular strain that only a special vaccine can be used to protect against.
Imagine, if you will, soldiers inoculated against an especially virulent strain
of anthrax. When they are about to engage the enemy, planes are used to spread
the bacteria throughout the battlefield. While they remain immune, their
opponents will drop like flies. They would be able to win a war in a matter of
days. A biological agent could also potentially be designed so that it would
attack only those people with a particular genetic makeup, making it a highly
specialized and effective means of targeting one's enemies. The possibilities
are limited only by one's imagination and the capabilities of science."
They all sat quietly for several long moments as the enormity of Tim's
statements weighed upon them. With a weary sigh, Scully was the first to break
the silence. "Tim, there's one thing that I don't understand," she began softly.
"What's that, Dana?"
"Why come forth with this information now? The kind of work you've described--
genetic engineering of bacteria--is not a simple process. If you've been
involved with this project--and presumably working on it for a while now--then
surely you had to realize the consequences and the applications of your
research."
Closing his eyes, Tim slowly nodded. He apparently had been expecting this
question.
"In other words, why the sudden bout of conscience?" Mulder asked with his usual
degree of tact. "And how the hell do we fit into this picture?"
Across the table, Tim sighed heavily, hands opening as he searched for the
words--and possibly the courage--to answer. "I admit, when I initially signed
onto the project, I knew that we were going to be creating a very lethal strain
of anthrax," Tim began slowly. "And, at the time, that knowledge didn't really
bother me. This was a challenging venture--one that would enable me to really
push myself and my abilities. If successful, our research would have a long-
lasting impact in the scientific community. And, well . . . the pay wasn't too
shabby, either.
"There were a number of us working on the project, each approaching the problem
from our own unique perspective. Turned out that my methods proved the most
successful. A couple months back, as my results started coming in, I quickly
rose in position in the lab. I'm not running it or anything, but since my
techniques are vital to the next step of the project, I've been granted higher
clearance. Out of curiosity, I started asking some questions--and I've thus
found out that I'm privy to more information than I had when I first signed on
for the project. I learned that our funding comes from some foreign power. My
guess is somewhere in the Middle East. Hell, Dana, you might not have been too
far off suggesting Saddam Hussein. I've also discovered that Andraven
Laboratories has apparently been involved with other agents of biological
warfare, the details of which I don't know. All I heard was something about a
test site in Canada."
Mulder and Scully exchanged a knowing glance.
"In addition, I've overheard Andraven and some others talking about the next
step of the project." Averting his gaze, Tim reached for his tea. He fidgeted in
his seat, looking down, as though he could feel their eyes upon him.
"They-they're now looking for human test subjects," he said finally, his voice
little more than a whisper. Slowly, he raised his head, and managed to meet
Scully's gaze. "Dana, this strain we've created can drop a rat in less than
twelve hours. And let me tell you, it's not a pretty death. High fever,
difficulty breathing, trembling, convulsions. And now they want to do this to
human beings. I haven't figured out where they're going to get these people
from. At first I assumed prisoners, the terminally ill--volunteers that have
nothing to lose. But then I realized--"
"Who in their right mind would willingly subject themselves to a painful death?"
Mulder interrupted.
Slowly, Tim nodded. "I overheard some of Andraven's people discussing the
project. Th-they . . . they were talking about . . ." Tim's voice trailed off as
he brought a quivering hand to his mouth and ran a hand over his goatee. He took
a few shaky breaths before he was able to continue.
Scully moved her head closer in order to hear his words.
"They mentioned using children as test subjects," Tim told them reluctantly.
"When I heard that, Dana, I felt so repulsed--with Andraven, the lab, myself
most of all. I felt so dirty, so vile, knowing that my work was going to be used
to hurt innocent people. Using biological warfare as a strategy during war is
one thing--at least, I had somehow managed to rationalize its use and convince
myself that such a tactic was excusable--but, for God's sakes, using kids? It's
incomprehensible to me. . . . And where the hell are they planning to get them?
Do they use orphans? Kidnap children from people's homes? Or maybe they're going
to attack a school bus?"
As Tim spouted his conjecture, Scully had to fight the urge to scream at him to
stop. His words were hitting painfully close to home--for both she and her
partner. Rationally, she knew that he did not realize the implications of his
statements. Nonetheless, she wondered how Tim would react if he knew his
suppositions were likely not far from the truth, at least as far as Mulder and
she had seen and experienced.
Beside her, Mulder had gone tense. Mulder opened his mouth to speak, but could
not find the words. Licking his dry lips, he tried again. "Did- did they say
when they were going to perform these experiments?"
Slowly, Tim shook his head. "I'm not sure when--for all I know they may have
started already. Hell, given their involvement in the past with other agents of
biological warfare, these kind of tests may have been going on for years."
Seeing a shiver run through Mulder, Scully slowly reached over and put a hand on
his forearm, giving it a gentle squeeze. She glanced back at Tim, and saw that
he was watching her curiously. Feeling her cheeks grow warm, she quickly broke
eye contact. But her hand remained where it was.
"I realized at that point that I had to do something to stop this," Tim
continued, glancing from Scully to Mulder. "It wouldn't be enough for me to
merely step away--not that I think they'd let me, especially if they realized
how much I knew. No, even if I walked away now, they could still use my work to
kill countless people--innocent people. I want to put an end to it, once and for
all. I want Andraven to answer for his crimes."
"So you want us to open a case, and investigate the true nature of the research
going on at Andraven Laboratories?" Mulder asked, his tone returning to normal.
"For all the good it'll do," Scully chimed in. "Microbiological research,
whether utilizing harmless or virulent organisms, will look the same as far as
laboratory set-up. It's not until you start examining samples under the
microscope that their true nature becomes evident. If we're going to have any
chance of making charges stick, we're going to need definitive proof."
"Meaning a sample of the anthrax strain?" Mulder inquired.
She nodded. "And we'll never be able to get that if Andraven knows we're on to
him."
"I know," Tim said. "But I think *I* can get you that proof."
"How?" Mulder asked.
"It won't be easy. Security is tight, and procedures are strict in my lab. Every
piece of equipment, every drop of reagent, is accounted for. A good friend of
mine works in another lab, on one of the projects that the public knows about,
where rules aren't so stringent. She's willing to give me an innocuous culture--
a placebo, effectively--that I can switch for an anthrax sample, so that I can
smuggle it out without it being missed."
"You're sure you can trust her?" Mulder questioned.
Tim nodded. "Yeah, we did out post-doc together, and for a while we used to go
out. I haven't told her much--I figure, the less she knows, the better--but
she's willing to help me out."
"You're incurring an awfully big risk, Tim," Scully told him. "Are you sure you
want to go through with this?"
"Dana, the way I see it, if I can save at least one life that would have been
destroyed by this bastard Andraven, then any risk is worth it."
"Pretty impressive words, Liles, coming from a man who's going to sneak a little
tube of bacteria out under his lab coat to ease his conscience," Mulder
commented dryly. "Too bad it won't mean shit as far as the courts are
concerned."
Tim stared at Mulder, puzzled. "What do you mean?"
"Even if you get us that vial and it proves to have a killer strain of anthrax
in it, it's not going to do us a damn bit of good. We're not going to be able to
link it back to Andraven or his lab. It's not enough."
Tim looked from Mulder to Scully.
"Mulder's right, Tim. We're going to need your testimony if we're to have any
hopes of putting Andraven away."
"You willing to put your money where your mouth is?" Mulder asked him.
Tim went a deathly shade of white. With two shaking hands, he brought his cup of
tea to his mouth. Slowly, he placed it back down again. He picked up his napkin
and wiped his mouth. Watching his every move, Mulder and Scully waited anxiously
for his reply. Finally, he looked up at them. Then, slowly, he nodded his head.
"All right," Tim whispered. " I'm willing to do whatever it takes to see justice
served."
End Chapter 1
*****