Title: Blessed Union of Souls I: Not the Doctor 08/11
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 8
I don't want to live on someday when my motto is last week
I don't want to be responsible for your fractured heart and its wounded
beat
I don't want to be a substitute for the smoke you've been inhaling
What do you thank me
What do you thank me for
"Where to?" the driver asked as Scully climbed into the cab.
"The Upper West Side," she replied, pulling out a piece of paper and reading him
the street address.
"You got it."
With a weary sigh, Scully settled back in her seat, gazing out the window and
contemplating the events of the past twenty-four hours.
After procuring a copy of the surveillance tape from the Video Production Unit
and her brief encounter with Skinner, she had rushed the tape over to the Lone
Gunmen for analysis, not even bothering to change--a fact that was much to
Frohike's delight, if the drool that pooled at his feet when he got a good
glimpse of ScullyThigh were any indication. Hell, she had been so relieved to be
done with the entire operation that she had paid him no heed. Frankly, if the
trio could find some evidence on the tape that would help to acquit Mulder of
the murder charges, Frohike's ogling was well worth it.
They had all watched it once through together. The view was of Andraven sitting
at his desk in his office. The tape revealed Mulder entering the room
unannounced. They exchanged words, and it quickly escalated into what appeared
to be a heated conversation. After a few minutes, Andraven apparently asked
Mulder to leave. Mulder said something else--what could very easily be
interpreted as a threat if his posture and pointing were any indication--and
then reluctantly left the office. Rather than return to his desk, Andraven
retired to his private bathroom--where his body was ultimately discovered.
Several minutes later, someone entered the office. There was no direct view of
the person; rather, he remained cloaked in shadow as he headed toward Andraven's
bathroom. When he left a few minutes later, his identity was still hidden.
The Gunmen did not appear very hopeful, but they told Scully they would give it
their best. And so she had left the boys to their task--with strict instructions
to call her if anything panned out--and had returned home. After a long, hot
shower--her encounter with Agent Tyson had left her feeling rather unclean--she
made herself some dinner and settled at the dining room table with Andraven's
autopsy report.
Nothing seemed out of the ordinary. Cause of death was a gunshot wound to the
head at close range. The murder weapon was standard Bureau issue. There were no
signs of a struggle. The toxicology screen likewise provided no useful
information. In sum, nothing stood out to her as a means of clearing her partner
of culpability. And yet, after reading and re-reading the report several times,
it tickled a nerve. Something about it seemed oddly familiar, though in what
regard she could not pinpoint.
It did not take long for her mind to drift to other more pertinent matters--like
where the hell was her partner? What could have caused him to leave town
suddenly without notifying her--short of the obvious answer the police proposed?
There was no way that it involved their current case. Mulder had not even
bothered to give it more than a cursory thought, his mind instead preoccupied
with Andraven. No, she was pretty damn positive that Mulder's sudden
disappearance involved Andraven and his desire to see the CEO punished. One
thing she *was* sure of, however, was that Mulder did not kill him. Obsessed
with bringing him down, yes; wanting to see him rot in jail, damn right; but he
was not so far gone so as to operate outside of the law. Of this fact she was
certain.
So, where the hell was he? Better yet, how could she locate him?
*Why not just call him?* The voice had sound suspiciously--not to mention
frighteningly--like that of her mother. *Well, Mom always knows best.* Picking
up the phone, she dialed his cell--and got the same out-of-service message she
had received several times previously that day. Mulder probably lost or broke it
yet again.
A thought occurred then. If Mulder ran off suddenly without her, the odds were
that he was following an impromptu lead. And it was quite likely that he
received that information via a phone call.
Twenty minutes and a few pulled strings later, Scully received a fax listing all
incoming and outgoing calls to Mulder's cell phone, as well as to their office
line. The latter proved quite interesting: at 6:03 PM--just over forty-five
minutes after she had left and about an hour before they were supposed to meet
at Tufano's--Mulder had received a call from a 212 area code. New York, New
York. A little digging revealed that the phone call originated from the United
Nations Building--specifically, the office of the Special Representative to the
Secretary General, i.e. one Marita Covarrubias.
Scully recognized the name. Over a year back, while they were investigating the
case which had led Mulder to Tunguska, he had asked Scully for Marita's address.
Scully had her suspicions that the SRSG was serving as Mulder's latest
informant, but seeing as how she herself had never met her--as she had Deep
Throat and the man known only as X on more than one occasion--Scully had not
given this source of information serious thought. Perhaps she had mistaken the
extent of Marita's influence.
Scully had just tracked down Marita's home address yet again when she received a
call from Byers. They had found something on the tape.
A half hour later, Scully was seated in front of a television monitor as the
Gunmen played her a scene from the surveillance tape. The view was of Andraven
sitting at his desk.
"I don't get it. What's so informative about this?" she asked, brow furrowed.
"Andraven's pushing paperwork. How does this exonerate Mulder?"
"The proverbial needle has been located and is sitting in plain sight, for all
the world to see," Byers replied cryptically.
Scully arched an eyebrow. "Would you care to elaborate?"
"See that thing?" Langly asked, pointing to a corner of Andraven's desk.
Scully moved her face closer to the screen for a better look. "It looks like a
thin glass bottle of some kind. It's hard to make it out."
"Zoom in, Frohike," Langly told him.
"You got it, dude." A few taps of the keys and clicks of the mouse, and the item
of interest filled the computer screen.
"Recognize it now?" Langly asked.
"Yes. It's one of the old-fashioned barometers--the kind where the level of
colored liquid indicates the atmospheric pressure."
"Give the lady a prize, Frohike muttered.
"I still don't understand the significance," Scully said, crossing her arms.
"You see the level of the liquid?" Byers asked. "It indicates that the
barometric pressure was rather low."
"In other words, a storm was brewin'--in more ways than one," Langly elaborated.
"And?" Scully's indignant tone indicated that they had better cut to the chase.
"And a check into the weather records for Virginia on the night of the murder
indicates that the barometric pressure was on the high side--much higher than is
indicated by the liquid level," Byers explained.
"Simply put, Andraven died on a clear night," Langly added, "whereas this tape
indicates that it was dark and stormy. What we're seeing did not occur the night
he was killed."
"I'll be damned," Scully muttered. "Someone doctored the tape."
"A good effort, for what was surely a rush job," Byers remarked, what sounded
suspiciously like admiration filling his voice. "But you were right, Scully--
Mulder's been set up."
Knowing that the longer he was missing the worse it would be for him, Scully
wasted no time booking a flight to New York, intent on tracking down her
partner.
"Here we are." The voice of the cabdriver brought Scully out of her reverie.
Paying the fare, she exited the taxi and made her way past the doorman and into
the apartment building. During the elevator rise up to the 13th floor, she
closed her eyes, trying to clear her mind and steel her resolve.
With a *bing!* the doors slid open. Scully squared her shoulders and strodedown
the hallway toward the further-most apartment. Reaching her destination, she
looked at her watch. 11:21 PM. Late enough for the occupant to be home. She
raised her hand to knock, but hesitated, and let her arm fall back to her side.
*You can do this,* she thought, giving herself a silent pep talk. Taking a deep
breath, she quickly lifted her fist again and rapped loudly on the door, fearing
that if she were to wait any longer, she might lose her nerve. When there came
no answer, she waited a few moments and knocked again.
This time, she heard movement from inside. "Who is it?" came a muffled reply
from the other side of the door.
Imagining the occupant peering at her through the peep hole, Scully raised her
chin high. "FBI," she replied in the best tough-as-nails tone she could muster,
thankful that her voice remained steady.
There was the sound of a lock being turned, and a moment later the door opened
the few inches the chain would allow. "Can I see some identification, please?"
asked a woman, her face largely obscured by shadows.
Scully pulled out her badge and held it up for the woman to see. "Special Agent
Dana Scully. I believe you know my partner, Fox Mulder."
"Yes," the woman replied, her head moving slightly forward and into the light of
the hallway. Scully studied her face carefully. She was a rather attractive
woman, with high cheekbones, a straight nose, full lips, and ice blue eyes. Her
face was framed by straight light blonde hair that was tucked neatly behind her
ears.
"I'd like to ask you some questions regarding his whereabouts," Scully resumed.
"I'm sorry, but I can't help you," the woman replied. She moved to close the
door--and with it, Scully realized, quite possibly her one chance of finding her
partner.
"No!" Scully snapped, stopping the door with a firm hand. "His life is in
danger. Please, Marita, I need to find him." Scully looked at her, her face an
image of calm determination--though her eyes gave her silent plea for help. "I
know you called him last night, Marita. If you know anything, please tell me."
Marita silently regarded Scully for several long moments. Finally, she nodded.
"All right."
Scully released the breath she had not realized she had been holding, and let go
of the door, permitting Marita to close it so as to unfasten the chain. Swinging
it wide open, Marita stood back, allowing Scully passage into her apartment.
Walking into the foyer, Scully turned around and watched as Marita locked the
door and sauntered slowly toward her, gliding past Scully and into the living
room, her white silk robe swishing as her hips swayed provocatively. She sat
down on an overstuffed chair and crossed her legs, one long shapely calf peeking
through the shimmering fabric. She gestured toward the couch.
Silently, Scully sat down.
"So, what is this about Fox's life being in danger?" Marita asked, noticing how
Scully stiffened at Marita's use of her partner's first name.
"You've probably heard about the death of Peter Andraven," Scully began.
Marita nodded. She had a good idea who was behind it, too. "The lab CEO who was
murdered the other night?"
"Yes. What you may not know is that Mulder is the chief suspect."
"What?" Marita's eyes widened and she sat forward in her chair. "No, I didn't
know that." This was not part of her plan. One who liked to anticipate
unforeseen complications, she hated to be taken off guard. *Damn that Kronos. I
wanted to split them up, make Mulder vulnerable to outside influence. He's still
too useful to be taken out of the picture entirely. If Kronos's meddling has
cost me my goal_*
"You spoke to him earlier that night, didn't you, Marita?"
Marita did not reply, trying to determine how best to play her hand given this
latest turn of events. Should she maintain the separation between the partners,
as she initially intended, or continue her role as helpful informant, and hope
the damage already done was irreparable?
"I traced an incoming call to our office phone," Scully continued. "It was your
work number."
Damn, the little bitch was resourceful. It would seem that the latter was the
best option. She would continue her role of the secret benefactor--for now. And
perhaps she could also continue to maintain the distance she had worked so hard
to create. "Fox didn't want you to know. He had contacted me for some
information regarding Andraven, and I was calling to tell him what I had
learned."
"Why didn't he want me to know?"
"Fox said you were reluctant to pursue the case any further after you had been
told to back off. He realized that trying to convince you otherwise would have
been a senseless venture. Time was of the essence if he were to make use of the
information I had discovered, so I arranged for Fox to fly to New York to pursue
the lead immediately."
Scully said nothing, but Marita noticed a peculiar twitching of her cheek.
"Fox came over here to my place, so that I could show him the information in
person. We went over every aspect in painstaking detail. It was a prolonged
process--it extended much longer than I ever thought possible--but it was highly
rewarding in the end. Fox is very meticulous and very thorough. It's always a
pleasure working with him. As I'm sure you must know." Sitting back with a smug
smile, Marita uncrossed and then recrossed her legs.
Marita watched as Scully shifted uncomfortably.
"I can't even begin to express how satisfying it is to witness first-hand how
quickly and easily Fox can reach his full potential once he is no longer held
back or stymied. I must say, it is absolutely amazing to see his mind at work."
Marita leaned forward, her next words spoken in a hushed whisper. "You know,
Dana, sometimes a man just needs a little encouragement rather than criticism.
I'm sure you would be pleasantly surprised by the resulting reaction such
stimulation can cause," she said with a wink and a smile.
Color suddenly rushed into Scully's cheeks. Just as Marita noticed a flicker of
emotion in her eyes, Scully quickly turned away, the knuckles of her clenched
fists white. She then closed her eyes for a moment, inhaled deeply, and finally
turned back, her face once again a mask of calm. She offered a strained smile.
"While I'd love to sit and chat some more, Marita, I need to locate my partner
as soon as possible. The longer he's missing, the harder it will be to deny the
murder charges. I need to find him so that I can help clear his name."
"Of course, of course. You know that I'd do whatever I can to help Fox."
"Well, if you could tell me where he was headed when he left here last night,
that'd be as good a place to start as any."
*****
Fifteen minutes later, Marita stood at her living room window, looking down at
the street as Dana Scully climbed into a cab in pursuit of her partner. She had
certainly managed to get under Scully's skin tonight--the agent was practically
squirming in her seat. For a while there, Marita was not sure if Scully was
going to burst into tears or shoot her in a blind rage.
Marita had decided to play the role of temptress simply to undermine the trust
the partners shared, to cause doubts and make Scully think that there were
significant aspects of her partner's life that she knew nothing about. But from
the stricken look on Dana Scully's face, from the way she abruptly lost her
color and her eyes shone with unshed tears, Marita learned something even more
useful: Dana Scully was in love with her partner. Her reactions were not those
of a co-worker left in the dark, but rather those of a woman who learned that
the object of her affection did not return her love. And that delicious little
bit of knowledge was something that Marita could use to her advantage, not only
to have some fun toying with Scully's emotions by seeing how far she could take
it, but also to help her realize her ultimate goal of splitting the partners. As
the saying went, divide and conquer. And with the partnership between Mulder and
Scully severed, nothing could stop her from infiltrating the higher levels of
the Syndicate and obtaining a chunk of the power.
"You're looking quite happy with yourself," came a man's voice from behind her
as a pair of strong arms snaked around her waist to pull her back against him.
"I should have considered a career in acting," she replied, arching her neck
back. He took immediate advantage of the access she provided, his dark goatee
rasping against the smooth skin of her neck as he nuzzled her. "Mmm," she
moaned. "Poor little Dana will probably be crying in her pillow tonight."
"Care to demonstrate some of that stimulation you told her you were giving her
partner?"
"You were listening?" Marita asked, turning around in his arms.
"Oh yeah," he replied, running his hands down the smooth fabric of her robe
until he was cupping her ass. "Want to see how thorough *I* can be?" he asked,
kissing her.
She ground her hips against his groin, and smiled at the immediate response it
evoked. "What time do you have to be at work?" she asked, running her fingers
down his chest.
He sighed. The work of a major domo was never done. "They gave me the morning
off since they're not meeting until noon, to discuss the repercussions of
Andraven's death on the project. And you know how long their meetings can last."
Marita grinned mischievously. "Then we've got plenty of time to have some fun."
Taking his hand, she led him back to the bedroom.
End Chapter 8
*****
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 8
I don't want to live on someday when my motto is last week
I don't want to be responsible for your fractured heart and its wounded
beat
I don't want to be a substitute for the smoke you've been inhaling
What do you thank me
What do you thank me for
"Where to?" the driver asked as Scully climbed into the cab.
"The Upper West Side," she replied, pulling out a piece of paper and reading him
the street address.
"You got it."
With a weary sigh, Scully settled back in her seat, gazing out the window and
contemplating the events of the past twenty-four hours.
After procuring a copy of the surveillance tape from the Video Production Unit
and her brief encounter with Skinner, she had rushed the tape over to the Lone
Gunmen for analysis, not even bothering to change--a fact that was much to
Frohike's delight, if the drool that pooled at his feet when he got a good
glimpse of ScullyThigh were any indication. Hell, she had been so relieved to be
done with the entire operation that she had paid him no heed. Frankly, if the
trio could find some evidence on the tape that would help to acquit Mulder of
the murder charges, Frohike's ogling was well worth it.
They had all watched it once through together. The view was of Andraven sitting
at his desk in his office. The tape revealed Mulder entering the room
unannounced. They exchanged words, and it quickly escalated into what appeared
to be a heated conversation. After a few minutes, Andraven apparently asked
Mulder to leave. Mulder said something else--what could very easily be
interpreted as a threat if his posture and pointing were any indication--and
then reluctantly left the office. Rather than return to his desk, Andraven
retired to his private bathroom--where his body was ultimately discovered.
Several minutes later, someone entered the office. There was no direct view of
the person; rather, he remained cloaked in shadow as he headed toward Andraven's
bathroom. When he left a few minutes later, his identity was still hidden.
The Gunmen did not appear very hopeful, but they told Scully they would give it
their best. And so she had left the boys to their task--with strict instructions
to call her if anything panned out--and had returned home. After a long, hot
shower--her encounter with Agent Tyson had left her feeling rather unclean--she
made herself some dinner and settled at the dining room table with Andraven's
autopsy report.
Nothing seemed out of the ordinary. Cause of death was a gunshot wound to the
head at close range. The murder weapon was standard Bureau issue. There were no
signs of a struggle. The toxicology screen likewise provided no useful
information. In sum, nothing stood out to her as a means of clearing her partner
of culpability. And yet, after reading and re-reading the report several times,
it tickled a nerve. Something about it seemed oddly familiar, though in what
regard she could not pinpoint.
It did not take long for her mind to drift to other more pertinent matters--like
where the hell was her partner? What could have caused him to leave town
suddenly without notifying her--short of the obvious answer the police proposed?
There was no way that it involved their current case. Mulder had not even
bothered to give it more than a cursory thought, his mind instead preoccupied
with Andraven. No, she was pretty damn positive that Mulder's sudden
disappearance involved Andraven and his desire to see the CEO punished. One
thing she *was* sure of, however, was that Mulder did not kill him. Obsessed
with bringing him down, yes; wanting to see him rot in jail, damn right; but he
was not so far gone so as to operate outside of the law. Of this fact she was
certain.
So, where the hell was he? Better yet, how could she locate him?
*Why not just call him?* The voice had sound suspiciously--not to mention
frighteningly--like that of her mother. *Well, Mom always knows best.* Picking
up the phone, she dialed his cell--and got the same out-of-service message she
had received several times previously that day. Mulder probably lost or broke it
yet again.
A thought occurred then. If Mulder ran off suddenly without her, the odds were
that he was following an impromptu lead. And it was quite likely that he
received that information via a phone call.
Twenty minutes and a few pulled strings later, Scully received a fax listing all
incoming and outgoing calls to Mulder's cell phone, as well as to their office
line. The latter proved quite interesting: at 6:03 PM--just over forty-five
minutes after she had left and about an hour before they were supposed to meet
at Tufano's--Mulder had received a call from a 212 area code. New York, New
York. A little digging revealed that the phone call originated from the United
Nations Building--specifically, the office of the Special Representative to the
Secretary General, i.e. one Marita Covarrubias.
Scully recognized the name. Over a year back, while they were investigating the
case which had led Mulder to Tunguska, he had asked Scully for Marita's address.
Scully had her suspicions that the SRSG was serving as Mulder's latest
informant, but seeing as how she herself had never met her--as she had Deep
Throat and the man known only as X on more than one occasion--Scully had not
given this source of information serious thought. Perhaps she had mistaken the
extent of Marita's influence.
Scully had just tracked down Marita's home address yet again when she received a
call from Byers. They had found something on the tape.
A half hour later, Scully was seated in front of a television monitor as the
Gunmen played her a scene from the surveillance tape. The view was of Andraven
sitting at his desk.
"I don't get it. What's so informative about this?" she asked, brow furrowed.
"Andraven's pushing paperwork. How does this exonerate Mulder?"
"The proverbial needle has been located and is sitting in plain sight, for all
the world to see," Byers replied cryptically.
Scully arched an eyebrow. "Would you care to elaborate?"
"See that thing?" Langly asked, pointing to a corner of Andraven's desk.
Scully moved her face closer to the screen for a better look. "It looks like a
thin glass bottle of some kind. It's hard to make it out."
"Zoom in, Frohike," Langly told him.
"You got it, dude." A few taps of the keys and clicks of the mouse, and the item
of interest filled the computer screen.
"Recognize it now?" Langly asked.
"Yes. It's one of the old-fashioned barometers--the kind where the level of
colored liquid indicates the atmospheric pressure."
"Give the lady a prize, Frohike muttered.
"I still don't understand the significance," Scully said, crossing her arms.
"You see the level of the liquid?" Byers asked. "It indicates that the
barometric pressure was rather low."
"In other words, a storm was brewin'--in more ways than one," Langly elaborated.
"And?" Scully's indignant tone indicated that they had better cut to the chase.
"And a check into the weather records for Virginia on the night of the murder
indicates that the barometric pressure was on the high side--much higher than is
indicated by the liquid level," Byers explained.
"Simply put, Andraven died on a clear night," Langly added, "whereas this tape
indicates that it was dark and stormy. What we're seeing did not occur the night
he was killed."
"I'll be damned," Scully muttered. "Someone doctored the tape."
"A good effort, for what was surely a rush job," Byers remarked, what sounded
suspiciously like admiration filling his voice. "But you were right, Scully--
Mulder's been set up."
Knowing that the longer he was missing the worse it would be for him, Scully
wasted no time booking a flight to New York, intent on tracking down her
partner.
"Here we are." The voice of the cabdriver brought Scully out of her reverie.
Paying the fare, she exited the taxi and made her way past the doorman and into
the apartment building. During the elevator rise up to the 13th floor, she
closed her eyes, trying to clear her mind and steel her resolve.
With a *bing!* the doors slid open. Scully squared her shoulders and strodedown
the hallway toward the further-most apartment. Reaching her destination, she
looked at her watch. 11:21 PM. Late enough for the occupant to be home. She
raised her hand to knock, but hesitated, and let her arm fall back to her side.
*You can do this,* she thought, giving herself a silent pep talk. Taking a deep
breath, she quickly lifted her fist again and rapped loudly on the door, fearing
that if she were to wait any longer, she might lose her nerve. When there came
no answer, she waited a few moments and knocked again.
This time, she heard movement from inside. "Who is it?" came a muffled reply
from the other side of the door.
Imagining the occupant peering at her through the peep hole, Scully raised her
chin high. "FBI," she replied in the best tough-as-nails tone she could muster,
thankful that her voice remained steady.
There was the sound of a lock being turned, and a moment later the door opened
the few inches the chain would allow. "Can I see some identification, please?"
asked a woman, her face largely obscured by shadows.
Scully pulled out her badge and held it up for the woman to see. "Special Agent
Dana Scully. I believe you know my partner, Fox Mulder."
"Yes," the woman replied, her head moving slightly forward and into the light of
the hallway. Scully studied her face carefully. She was a rather attractive
woman, with high cheekbones, a straight nose, full lips, and ice blue eyes. Her
face was framed by straight light blonde hair that was tucked neatly behind her
ears.
"I'd like to ask you some questions regarding his whereabouts," Scully resumed.
"I'm sorry, but I can't help you," the woman replied. She moved to close the
door--and with it, Scully realized, quite possibly her one chance of finding her
partner.
"No!" Scully snapped, stopping the door with a firm hand. "His life is in
danger. Please, Marita, I need to find him." Scully looked at her, her face an
image of calm determination--though her eyes gave her silent plea for help. "I
know you called him last night, Marita. If you know anything, please tell me."
Marita silently regarded Scully for several long moments. Finally, she nodded.
"All right."
Scully released the breath she had not realized she had been holding, and let go
of the door, permitting Marita to close it so as to unfasten the chain. Swinging
it wide open, Marita stood back, allowing Scully passage into her apartment.
Walking into the foyer, Scully turned around and watched as Marita locked the
door and sauntered slowly toward her, gliding past Scully and into the living
room, her white silk robe swishing as her hips swayed provocatively. She sat
down on an overstuffed chair and crossed her legs, one long shapely calf peeking
through the shimmering fabric. She gestured toward the couch.
Silently, Scully sat down.
"So, what is this about Fox's life being in danger?" Marita asked, noticing how
Scully stiffened at Marita's use of her partner's first name.
"You've probably heard about the death of Peter Andraven," Scully began.
Marita nodded. She had a good idea who was behind it, too. "The lab CEO who was
murdered the other night?"
"Yes. What you may not know is that Mulder is the chief suspect."
"What?" Marita's eyes widened and she sat forward in her chair. "No, I didn't
know that." This was not part of her plan. One who liked to anticipate
unforeseen complications, she hated to be taken off guard. *Damn that Kronos. I
wanted to split them up, make Mulder vulnerable to outside influence. He's still
too useful to be taken out of the picture entirely. If Kronos's meddling has
cost me my goal_*
"You spoke to him earlier that night, didn't you, Marita?"
Marita did not reply, trying to determine how best to play her hand given this
latest turn of events. Should she maintain the separation between the partners,
as she initially intended, or continue her role as helpful informant, and hope
the damage already done was irreparable?
"I traced an incoming call to our office phone," Scully continued. "It was your
work number."
Damn, the little bitch was resourceful. It would seem that the latter was the
best option. She would continue her role of the secret benefactor--for now. And
perhaps she could also continue to maintain the distance she had worked so hard
to create. "Fox didn't want you to know. He had contacted me for some
information regarding Andraven, and I was calling to tell him what I had
learned."
"Why didn't he want me to know?"
"Fox said you were reluctant to pursue the case any further after you had been
told to back off. He realized that trying to convince you otherwise would have
been a senseless venture. Time was of the essence if he were to make use of the
information I had discovered, so I arranged for Fox to fly to New York to pursue
the lead immediately."
Scully said nothing, but Marita noticed a peculiar twitching of her cheek.
"Fox came over here to my place, so that I could show him the information in
person. We went over every aspect in painstaking detail. It was a prolonged
process--it extended much longer than I ever thought possible--but it was highly
rewarding in the end. Fox is very meticulous and very thorough. It's always a
pleasure working with him. As I'm sure you must know." Sitting back with a smug
smile, Marita uncrossed and then recrossed her legs.
Marita watched as Scully shifted uncomfortably.
"I can't even begin to express how satisfying it is to witness first-hand how
quickly and easily Fox can reach his full potential once he is no longer held
back or stymied. I must say, it is absolutely amazing to see his mind at work."
Marita leaned forward, her next words spoken in a hushed whisper. "You know,
Dana, sometimes a man just needs a little encouragement rather than criticism.
I'm sure you would be pleasantly surprised by the resulting reaction such
stimulation can cause," she said with a wink and a smile.
Color suddenly rushed into Scully's cheeks. Just as Marita noticed a flicker of
emotion in her eyes, Scully quickly turned away, the knuckles of her clenched
fists white. She then closed her eyes for a moment, inhaled deeply, and finally
turned back, her face once again a mask of calm. She offered a strained smile.
"While I'd love to sit and chat some more, Marita, I need to locate my partner
as soon as possible. The longer he's missing, the harder it will be to deny the
murder charges. I need to find him so that I can help clear his name."
"Of course, of course. You know that I'd do whatever I can to help Fox."
"Well, if you could tell me where he was headed when he left here last night,
that'd be as good a place to start as any."
*****
Fifteen minutes later, Marita stood at her living room window, looking down at
the street as Dana Scully climbed into a cab in pursuit of her partner. She had
certainly managed to get under Scully's skin tonight--the agent was practically
squirming in her seat. For a while there, Marita was not sure if Scully was
going to burst into tears or shoot her in a blind rage.
Marita had decided to play the role of temptress simply to undermine the trust
the partners shared, to cause doubts and make Scully think that there were
significant aspects of her partner's life that she knew nothing about. But from
the stricken look on Dana Scully's face, from the way she abruptly lost her
color and her eyes shone with unshed tears, Marita learned something even more
useful: Dana Scully was in love with her partner. Her reactions were not those
of a co-worker left in the dark, but rather those of a woman who learned that
the object of her affection did not return her love. And that delicious little
bit of knowledge was something that Marita could use to her advantage, not only
to have some fun toying with Scully's emotions by seeing how far she could take
it, but also to help her realize her ultimate goal of splitting the partners. As
the saying went, divide and conquer. And with the partnership between Mulder and
Scully severed, nothing could stop her from infiltrating the higher levels of
the Syndicate and obtaining a chunk of the power.
"You're looking quite happy with yourself," came a man's voice from behind her
as a pair of strong arms snaked around her waist to pull her back against him.
"I should have considered a career in acting," she replied, arching her neck
back. He took immediate advantage of the access she provided, his dark goatee
rasping against the smooth skin of her neck as he nuzzled her. "Mmm," she
moaned. "Poor little Dana will probably be crying in her pillow tonight."
"Care to demonstrate some of that stimulation you told her you were giving her
partner?"
"You were listening?" Marita asked, turning around in his arms.
"Oh yeah," he replied, running his hands down the smooth fabric of her robe
until he was cupping her ass. "Want to see how thorough *I* can be?" he asked,
kissing her.
She ground her hips against his groin, and smiled at the immediate response it
evoked. "What time do you have to be at work?" she asked, running her fingers
down his chest.
He sighed. The work of a major domo was never done. "They gave me the morning
off since they're not meeting until noon, to discuss the repercussions of
Andraven's death on the project. And you know how long their meetings can last."
Marita grinned mischievously. "Then we've got plenty of time to have some fun."
Taking his hand, she led him back to the bedroom.
End Chapter 8
*****