Il Ristorante Cantriosilla
11:59 A.M.
Fox Mulder sat at a table for two situated at the back of the
restaurant. Next to the table, a large bay window overlooked a
beautiful park with plentiful oaks and weeping willows.
In the center was a large, marble fountain. Goldfish
happily swam about, living out their lives in peaceful
oblivion beneath the crystal-blue waters.
Mulder adjusted his tie and checked his watch. Twelve o'clock. From
the corner of his eye he saw two legs in a short, blue skirt approach
his table and halt in front of him. He looked up and saw Lauren's
supermodel features beaming back at him.
"Long time, no see, stranger," she said, taking her
seat opposite him. He smiled inwardly. Punctual as
always, he thought to himself.
"Nice to see you, too, Lauren," he replied as a waiter
approached with a bottle of Red Merlow and angel-hair
pasta, "I took the privilege of ordering for you." She
smiled. She loved that about him, the way he just took
charge of a situation. He liked to be in control.
"Thank you, Fox," she said, "It looks delicious." She placed the
pressed napkin atop her lap and crossed her legs.
"It certainly does," he mumbled to himself, but inadvertent blushing
revealed that she had overheard. She picked up her fork, spiraling
the spaghetti about with her spoon.
"It's been awhile since we've had a pleasant lunch, hasn't it Fox?"
she said to him, sucking the pasta between her ruby-red lips and
exposing her tongue.
"It certainly has," he answered, pouring the Merlow into two wine
glasses, "What has it been, seven, eight years?"
"Nine, I think," she answered. She took a sip of the wine. "It's
been a long time, Fox. Look at you, brilliant, although
underestimated agent of the most prestigious agency in
the United States."
"You're not doing too bad yourself, Lauren," he responded, taking a
bite of his lunch, "carrying out the work that you've longed for, a
respected detective. What more could you possibly want for
yourself?" She began to blush again.
"Well, Fox," she said, "that is precisely the reason that I asked you
here today."
Mulder placed the fork on his plate and folded his hands. "What are
you talking about, Lauren?" he asked her, "I thought you
invited me to discuss the case?" She chuckled aloud, "Oh,
Fox, did you really believe that I asked you to join me at
a romantic, Italian restaurant just to talk business?"
Mulder noticed for the first time the two candles that were
perched in the middle of the table of the dimly-lit room. He
thought about the discussion that he and Scully had had earlier
in the day. Maybe she was right. Maybe this was a bad idea.
Mulder started to respond, but Lauren held up her hands in an effort
to silence him, "No, Fox, don't say anything. Just let me say what I
need to say."
Lauren took a deep breath as she replayed the dialogue that she had
practiced in her mind on so many previous occasions. "Fox, there is
something missing from my life. I've known it ever since I
left you. I may have my work and my health, but I need someone
to share my life with. I need you, Fox."
He sighed, a long sigh of consternation and exhaustion. "Lauren," he
said gently, "I don't think you know what you're saying. You
left me,remember? You couldn't deal with, what was it that you
said, 'my obsession with my sister,' remember?"
"Oh, Fox," she interjected, "that was so long ago. I was only a girl
then. I'm a woman now, a woman with needs and desires." She
took his hand in hers. "I need you, Fox," she said, "I love
you." Mulder shook his head and put his other hand over hers,
"You don't love me, Lauren..."
His words were cut short as she placed her forefinger over his lips,
"Shhh," she cooed, "you don't need to say anything." She wrapped her
hand around the back of his head, running her fingers through his
hair. "Don't say anything." She pulled his face towards hers, and
threw her lips over his, soft at first, but harder, and
harder still. He responded at first, and for a split second
it was like being with her all over again, like they were
never separated. For a split second, he wanted her and
kissed her back. In his mind's eye, however, he saw Scully
arguing with him outside of the department. He saw her angry
with him, fighting with him, fighting for him, and all of a
sudden he drew back.
"Lauren," he said, "I can't, we can't. This is wrong. I'm
sorry, but I just don't feel the same way about you." He
searched her face. She seemed upset, hurt.
"Oh," she mumbled, "I'm so sorry, Fox." She got up awkwardly and
stumbled from the table.
"Lauren," he called to her, "Lauren, wait. We need to talk." He
hurriedly got up from the table and ran after her. He opened the
front door to the restaurant and looked both ways down the
street, but she was nowhere in sight. Mulder put his hand
on his hip and shook his head in disgust. "Way to go, Fox,"
he said to himself and retraced his steps into the
restaurant to pay the bill.
Liberty Bell Inn
4:13 P.M.
Scully was startled from a restless sleep by the sound of
three knocks upon the door.
"Scully, it's me, open up."
She lay on her side, still wearing the skirt and jacket of her black
suit. She had fallen asleep so suddenly that she hadn't even
had time to put on a change of clothes. The exhaustion caused
by the late night at the morgue had finally settled in. Three
more knocks, "Scully, are you there? Open the door."
"Coming," she called, throwing her legs over the side of the
bed. She stood up, smoothed out her suit, and checked herself
in the small mirror beside the bed before advancing towards
the door.
"Jesus, Scully," Mulder scolded her, "what took you so long? I
was out here knocking for five minutes. If I was Skinner, my
head would have frost bite by now."
"Mulder," she scoffed, curling the corners of her lips in response to
the joke, "I could ask you the same thing. Where have you been?"
Mulder's eyes averted her gaze. It seemed as though he was
attempting to make up his mind about something. "Mulder?"
Scully questioned again, "Where were you?"
Mulder shook his head and decided to tell her the truth, "I went out
to lunch with Lauren." Scully's demeanor instantly changed at the
sound of Alvarez's name. Her eyebrow arched as she responded with a
simple, "Oh?"
"Yes, Scully," he answered jerkily. He felt for some strange reason
that he owed her something resembling an explanation. His
words began to get jumbled as he quickly endeavored to
explain himself. "Right after you left, Lauren called,
Scully. She asked me to meet her for lunch to discuss
the case, but when I got there, well...she didn't really
want to talk about the case. I think you were right, Scully,
I think she..."
Scully held up her hands in disgust. "Stop, Mulder," she
told him, "I don't need to know about this. This isn't
my business."
"But, Scully," he started, "I want you to know..."
"No," she interjected again, "I don't want to know." Scully shrugged
her shoulders, "Besides, I need to talk to you about the case."
Mulder seated himself on the edge of her bed. He looked tired. He
stared at her through sad, weary eyes, "What do you want to tell me?"
"I contacted Skinner today," she began, "I informed him of the
progress we've made in regards to the connection between the murderer
and religion. He wanted to know how much longer we planned on
staying here."
"And what did you tell him?" Mulder asked.
"I told him that I wasn't sure," Scully responded, "but then I
received a phone call from Agent Sykes in the microbiology unit. I
sent the blood work of the victim to her after the autopsy and asked
that she conduct the tests first thing. She told me that there is
something very strange in her blood, something that she didn't feel
comfortable telling me over the phone. Mulder, I need to return to
Washington right away."
Mulder slowly nodded his head. "I'll go with you, Scully," he told
her, "There's nothing else to be done here for the moment."
He yawned and lay back on the bed, arms folded behind his
head. "I'm so tired, Scully," he confided.
Scully sat next to him on the bed, "I know, Mulder, it's been a long
day." He sat up and looked at her. Her face was inches from his.
"Scully," he tried again, "I want to tell you what happened at lunch
today."
"Mulder," she said, "you don't owe me anything...," but he
stopped her in mid-sentence.
"No," he told her authoritatively, "I'm going to tell you something,
something I've been trying to tell you for years."
Scully braced herself. Her fingers clutched the edge of the bed
tensely. She could feel her heart run a marathon in chest and her
face began to feel flush. For years they had danced around the
subject. There had been plenty of gentle flirtation on both sides,
but neither had the inclination to make the first move, to test their
relationship beyond the safe confines of friendship. Was this
what he wanted? Was he going to make the leap of faith for
which she wasn't prepared?
"What is it, Mulder?" she asked anxiously. He fiddled nervously with
his tie and took a deep breath.
"Come on, Fox," he said to himself, "you can do this." He stared at
her, long and hard, gaining strength from her beauty and
determination. He prepared to initiate the most difficult discussion
of his nearly seven-year relationship with his enchanting partner.
"Working on this case with Lauren has brought back a lot
of memories," he told her, "memories of happy times,
memories of sad times, many, many memories." He smirked
as scenes of her flashed through his mind. "She and I were,
as you may have guessed, romantically involved seven years
ago. I was just a young, naive agent, having come across
the X-Files. After the dissolution of my relationship with
Diana, I was heartbroken, wearing my heart on my sleeve. I
stumbled into one relationship, well, I suppose you
couldn't really call them relationships, after another.
One night while browsing through the National Archives,
I met Lauren. She was an intern at the F.B.I., doing
profiling research for a serial killer that was terrorizing
New York City. She was as young and passionate as I was,
and we instantly clicked. In comparison to my relationship
with Diana, my tryst with Lauren was much shorter, but just
as exciting."
He paused to take a breath. Scully opened her mouth to ask exactly
what Lauren and his relationship had to do with her, but thought
better of it. She inhaled and allowed him to continue.
"Today Lauren asked me to lunch to discuss our past, and our
collective future. She told me she loved me, that she
wanted us to be together, that she needed me. She even
tried to kiss me, and for a minute, I wanted to, too. But
then I thought of you, Scully. I thought of how you warned
me of her feelings. I thought of how you protected me
against my own madness. I thought of your endless devotion
to my cause, of all that you've given up to help me on my
quest. I thought of how your brilliance saved my life after
I was exposed to the alien virus. But most of all, I thought
of how you are always there for me. I thought about how when
you were abducted, and when you were injected with the virus
from that bee sting, of how I could never imagine living
without you."
Scully swallowed hard. "Mulder," she said quietly, "I don't quite
know what to say. I mean, you are so important to me. I couldn't
imagine not having you in my life either. That's why I fought
so hard when you almost died, I couldn't bear losing you."
He smiled at her and looked about the room. "You know, Scully," he
said, "it seems like every turning point in our relationship comes
when we're sitting in one of these rink-a-dink motel rooms." A spark
flew across Scully's brain. No wonder the room looked so familiar.
It had the same set-up as the room in which she stayed while
investigating her first X-File. A scene from her past flashed
through her mind. It was the first time she met Mulder and
they were investigating the strange deaths of teenagers in
Bellefleur, Oregon. Mulder's talk of puncture wounds on the backs
of abductees had frightened her into believing that she was
abducted when she had experienced what he called "lost time."
She had run into his room wearing only a bathrobe and had shown
him three puncture wounds on her back. She recalled her relief
when he explained that they were merely mosquito bites.
She smiled fondly at him, "I remember," she said, "You had me
convinced that I was going to turn out like Billy Miles."
He chuckled, "It didn't take long before you were undressing yourself
for me, did it Scully?"
"Oh, Mulder," she cried, striking him lightly on his firm
forearm. He grabbed for her hand as she struck the blow.
He held it tightly, but sincerely. He gently stroked her
knuckles with his thumb.
"That night," he reminded her, "I bore my soul to you, a complete
stranger. I explained to you about the fate of my sister
and my quest to find out what had happened to her. Scully,
I knew instantly that I could trust you. Even if you
didn't believe in extraterrestrial life, you believed in me,
and I believe in you."
He shifted uncomfortably. He couldn't stop now. "Scully, Lauren's
talk of love today forced me to recognize my own feelings, feelings
that I've had for a long time but have never been able to express
before. I don't love her, Scully, and she doesn't love me. I don't
believe she knows what true love is, and I used to think that I never
would experience it either. But now I know what love is, Scully,
because you've helped me find it. All this searching for the truth,
and I've been denying it for seven years now, burying it like the
Syndicate buried the truth."
Scully arched her eyebrow and shot him a quizzical look. "Mulder,
what is it that you're trying to say?" she asked.
Mulder breathed deeply and grabbed her other hand. He held them both
up, supported by his. They looked as though they were standing
at the base of an alter, professing their love for each other
through vows of eternal devotion. "What I'm trying to say,
Scully," he told her, "is that I love you."
Scully looked aghast, mouth slightly ajar, eyes wide with fear and
uncertainty. She was silent for what, to Mulder, seemed like an
eternity. She lifted her palm and placed it against his forehead, as
if checking for a temperature. "Mulder, are you feeling okay?" she
asked him.
"Well," he mumbled to himself, "that went well," and then to her, "I
think I've alienated myself enough for one night." He stood up, "If
you need me, I'll be next door...hanging myself." He gestured to the
door and began to walk towards it.
"Mulder, wait," she called to him, "Don't go. Please come sit down."
He turned back to face her. He looked good, his long tie
complementing his eyes. She patted the empty space next to
her on the bed. "I'm sorry. I didn't know what to say.
You kind of caught me off guard."
He plopped down on the bed next to her. "No," he told her, "I'm
sorry. That was something heavy to have just dropped in your
lap like that." He started to stammer as his emotions began
to get the better of him. "It's just that I'm sick of
carrying out this charade day in and day out. I know how I
feel, Scully, and I think that you feel the same way, too,
but I need you to say it, to tell me how you feel about me."
She sighed, a long sigh of distress and confusion.
"Mulder," she said slowly, "this isn't anything new.
Believe me, I've thought about the possibility of a
relationship between us for quite some time. To be
honest, I'm very much attracted to you, not just
physically, but on an emotional level, as well." For
once, her clinical detachment sounded so sweet to his
ears. She continued, "You're intelligent, humorous,
caring, passionate..."
His smile began to deteriorate into a frown. "...but," he continued
on her behalf.
She took up the rest of the sentence, "...but I'm not sure if we
should take our relationship to the next plateau."
"Scully," he questioned, slight irritation arising unconsciously in
his voice, "What exactly is it that you're afraid of?" He looked
deeply into her eyes, hoping to find in them the truth to the deepest
recesses of her soul. Scully nervously twitted her thumbs as she
carefully prepared her every word.
"I'm afraid of you, Mulder," she finally told him, "I'm afraid
of what will happen when I become attached and you decide to
leave. What would it be like if we could not remain friends?
I just don't think that I could handle something like that."
He took her hand in his. She had never before seen him so serious.
Not even a smile penetrated his dower demeanor.
"I would never let that happen, Scully," he said defiantly, "I would
never risk losing the greatest partner or friend that I have ever
known. But you cannot let your fear of the future stop you from
fighting for something good, something so easily obtainable."
She looked fondly at him, the man for whom she had given so much and
gotten so much greater in return. His deep, hazel eyes penetrated
every core of her being, and she finally knew in heart what was true.
"Mulder, I do share your feelings. My feelings for you are so great
that they are almost tangible, but I am still afraid..." He didn't
let her finish the sentence.
"Don't be," he told her, leaning in closer to her body. His lips
inched along her face until they reached her ear. "There's
nothing to be afraid of," he whispered to her, playfully
twirling her soft, sweet-smelling hair between his fingers.
He pulled back and once more peered into her eyes. She reached
up, placing her palm aside his cheek as he coupled the nape of
her tiny neck with his strong hand.
"I'm not," she told him, for the first time fully assured, "not
anymore."
He saw the red-headed woman respond uneasily to whatever it was that
her partner had confided in her. She had felt his head, causing him
to rise and walk toward the door. He ducked behind a bush, hoping
that his dark robes would render him impenetrable to the gaze of the
lanky agent. He hid for several minutes until he was sure that
it was safe. He summoned his courage and approached the window
that peered into the tiny room. They were both sitting on the
bed, now. He could feel their intentions, their longing. It
was hot and sinful, like a burning iron branding an animal.
She placed her hand on his face, and he, his on her neck. He
watched as they drew closer, about to consummate their proud
and dangerous transgression. He turned his head as the screech
of tires forewarned an approaching observer. The headlights
shone fiercely about him, like the column of fire that separated
the Deliverer from impending doom at the hands of Pharaoh. He
ducked from view of the window and advanced into the darkness.
Scully leaned in, yearning to quench the fire in her lips. He pulled
her closer with the hand placed so subtly behind her neck. "Mulder,"
she breathed.
"Scully," he softly replied. Her eyes widened as she caught the
glimpse of a shadow at the window, illuminated by the headlights
of an advancing vehicle.
"Mulder," she cried louder, pointing to the figure, "someone's out
there."
Mulder turned his head violently, grabbing for the gun at
his hip. He stood up and ran to the door. "I'll kill you,"
he mumbled, angered more by the interruption than the threat
of danger, "I don't care if it's J. Edgar, himself." He
opened the door and surveyed the surroundings, looking left
and right. He turned around and closed the door behind him.
"Nobody's there, Scully," he told her, repositioning himself at her
side, "Now where were we?"
"Mulder," she cried, pushing his chest away with both hands, "I know
what I saw. There was someone there."
"Well," he said, a smile appearing at the corners of his
mouth, "maybe we ought to give him a good show, what do
you say?" It was no use. The interruption had effectively
destroyed the mood and any chance he had for getting closer
to her.
"I'm sorry, Mulder," Scully told him apprehensively, "but I'm tired.
I think I'd like to go to bed. We have to fly back to Washington
early tomorrow." She threw him a ticket for the 7:30 A.M.
flight back to D.C. that she had bought earlier in the day.
"See you bright and early," she told him, advancing towards
the door to walk him out. Mulder got up from the bed and took
one final look at Scully as he walked dejectedly to his room
to spend another night alone.
J. Edgar Hoover Building
March 26, 2000
9:00 A.M.
The plane ride back had been hell. She couldn't recall why she had
decided to place their two seats next to each other. Then she
remembered. She had purchased them before Mulder so
genuinely smeared his feelings like a doormat for her to
step on. She recalled that his sarcasm when she had asked
for the window seat was more abrasive than usual: "Why
bother, Scully? It's not as though you'll see anything
of interest that cannot be explained away by scientific
means. It's a warm, sunny day, I'm sure there's plenty of
weather balloons floating around just waiting to be
mistaken for U.F.O.'s."
She was used to the droll humor, that was normal. It was the silence
that she had trouble reconciling. For as long as she had known him,
Mulder was hardly recognized as someone who could remain silent for
more than two minutes at a time. But he had remained silent the
entire hour that it took to land at Dulles, excluding of course some
rather suggestive comments to the flight attendant after having
one-too-many shots of Absolut.
She couldn't stand him being angry with her, but she could hardly
blame him either. What was barring her from acknowledging her
feelings? Sure, she had told him that those feelings existed,
but she was hardly entirely truthful. If she could have acted
impulsively, even for one moment, she would have torn off that
tie and thrown him down onto the bed...but she just couldn't do
that. No, she had to think of all the reasons why a relationship
between them wouldn't work out. Mulder was right, she needed to
stop thinking, to stop ending the relationship before it was even
initiated. If she were to not allow anything to happen between
them, it would be like failing before any difficulties were even
broached.
"Agent Scully?"
Her decision about Mulder would have to wait for another day. Agent
Sykes was addressing her. Scully was standing in the microbiology
unit of the F.B.I., patiently lingering about to view what it
was that was so important that it could not be spoken of over
the telephone.
"Yes," Scully answered, "It's nice to see you, Agent Sykes.
It's good of you to have run the tests so quickly."
"You're very welcome," Sykes replied, "but I should be thanking you.
I feel very privileged to have been brought in on this case." Sykes
ushered her into a secluded room at the back-right corner of the
office. Scully noticed that Sykes had locked the door behind her and
closed the blinds of the large, front windows. She cradled a manila
folder in her arms, like the mother of a newborn child. Scully shot
her a questioning look.
"What is it, exactly that you found?" she asked.
"I think you had better sit down," Sykes responded, tossing
the folder lightly on top of her desk as she took her seat.
Scully's eyes widenedas a familiar name leapt from the pages.
"Purity Control," she read aloud.
Mouth slightly agape, Scully's gaze turned quickly from the papers on
the desk to Agent Sykes, herself. "How do you know about Purity
Control?" Scully asked her, and then scolded herself for questioning
to rashly.
"Please sit down, Agent Scully," Sykes beseeched her, "and I
will tell you the whole story of my involvement."
Scully obliged, taking the seat opposite Sykes and folded her hands
carefully on the desk. She looked up through wary eyes and urged the
agent forward, "Please continue."
"Do you recall the name Dr. Anne Carpenter, Agent Scully?" Sykes
asked.
"Of course," Scully responded without a moment's hesitation, "Dr.
Carpenter was head of the Georgetown University Microbiology
Department. She aided me in an investigation regarding...regarding
the homicide of a scientist working in developing gene therapy."
Sykes arched her left eyebrow as Scully shuffled uncomfortably in her
chair. She felt like the victim of some voyeuristic joker, like
cameras were set up at each angle of the room in order to record her
every word. Her gaze diverted this way and that, plagued by the
thought of unseen eyes watching her movement.
"What you meant to say," Sykes corrected her, "is that Dr. Carpenter
aided in an investigation regarding Purity Control, that she assisted
you in analyzing the sample and in doing so discovered an extra base
pair that she defined as extraterrestrial in origin. This base pair
contributed to the formation of a fifth and sixth nucleotide in the
sample's genome, and for some unknown reason, several gaps existed in
the sequence itself." Scully took in a deep breath, wondering
exactly how much she should trust this woman who seemed to know
as much, if not more than she. Scully braced herself for the
windfall.
"If I may be so bold, Agent Sykes, how is it that you came by this
knowledge?" she inquired.
"Hours before she was in the accident, Dr. Carpenter called me. She
informed me of what she had found, that she believed that by
acquiring such knowledge she had endangered the life of
herself and her family. She was under the impression that
she was being followed. She saw shadows wherever she went.
I, of course, thought that she was suffering from deep
paranoia, but the deaths of her and her family...Well, I
suppose it turns out that her paranoia was well founded."
Sykes shrugged her shoulders, "Anyway, Dr. Carpenter told
me that if she were to die that I should be alert to any
specimen that would turn up in the future. She told me to
follow your work closely, Agent Scully. I suppose you
assisted me in that respect by contacting me. At any rate,
I have a vested interest in seeing this through. You see,
Agent Scully, Dr. Carpenter was my sister and I am convinced
that her accident was no accident, that she was, in fact,
murdered for her discovery of the base pair in Purity
Control."
Scully digested what Sykes had told her. "I understand what you have
confided in me, Agent Sykes," she began, "but what
does Purity Control have to do with the blood samples
that I sent to you?"
"That's just it, Agent Scully," she answered, "the genome isolated in
the blood samples is identical to that of Purity Control, with one
minor exception."
"And what would that exception be, Agent Sykes?" Scully asked, still
unsure if she was being fed lies.
"Like I said," Sykes told her, "the genome that comprised Purity
Control contained gaps, missing base pairs in the sequence, something
completely unheard of in any organic organism found here on Earth.
Annie was attempting to divine the reason for this before her
untimely death. She had little success, but she was able to
hide a sample away so that I might carry on her work. For
the past six years I have tested and analyzed every pair in
the genome and have come to the following conclusion: the
chemical composition, that is, the elements that comprise
the base pairs found in Purity Control, are unknown in origin
and are highly electronegative. In fact, they are twice as
electronegative as the strongest electronegative Earth
element, fluorine. You are aware of what causes
electronegativity, are you not, Dr. Scully?"
"Yes," Scully answered, feeling as though she was back in the
classroom, waiting anxiously for permission to begin her chemistry
exam, "electronegativity is essentially a pull of electrons from a
chemical bond. It is a property of an element whereby an atom
attempts to become more stable by obtaining the fullest amount of
electrons possible in one orbital, eight to be precise."
"That is correct, Agent Scully. I can see that all of those years of
acquiring medical knowledge were not lost on you." Sykes smiled
warmly at her as she continued the briefing, "It seems that the
elements present in the nucleotides of Purity Control are so
electronegative that the electrons of one nucleotide effectively
repel the electrons of the neighboring nucleotide. Compounded
with the already highly negative phosphate and deoxyribose
backbone, this leaves no possibility for stabilization
within that region in nature, generating the gap in the genome.
In other words, the gap between nucleotides is twice that of
the organic Earth gap. Only after this interval are the
electrons far enough apart that the charge becomes dissipated
enough to have another base pair." Scully sighed, unsure of
what to believe. She had been misled so many times in the
past, she just hoped that this time an investigation would
bear fruit. She said to Sykes, "That is all extremely
interesting, but you still have yet to tell me what is the
difference between Purity Control and the blood samples."
"Agent Scully," she answered, "the blood samples that you sent to me
contain the extra base pair, the fifth and sixth nucleotide, but
there is no gap between them."
Scully countered, "But I thought you said that there is no
conceivable stabilization if two nucleotides were adjacent
to each other."
"I said in nature, Agent Scully." Sykes looked at her hard, waiting
for her to grasp the serious nature of what she was saying.
Scully's eyes widened as she realized what the doctor was intimating,
"But that would mean..."
Agent Sykes nodded her head in profound silence. "Yes,
Agent Scully," she completed the thought for her, "That
would mean that someone has figured out how to control
the sequence, that someone has genetically engineered
Purity Control to alleviate the gaps, and that your murder
victim is the product of this genetic engineering."
"Mulder," the voice greeted her gruffly from the other end. She had
let the phone ring seven times and was about to hang up when he
finally answered.
"Mulder, it's me," she answered, relieved at finally hearing
his voice after accepting his harsh sentence of silence,
"where are you?"
Mulder watched himself in the mirror behind the counter. He watched
as the reflection raised its cell with one hand and a glass in the
other. His hair was disheveled and all that remained of his
mandatory suit ensemble was a wrinkled, uncuffed, Oxford shirt
and a pair of gray pleated pants. "I'm washing my hair, Scully,"
he told her, a mixture of relief and anger at hearing her voice
so soon after their little heart-to-heart, "where are you?"
"I'm at the Bureau's Microbiology Department," she answered, "and
there is something that I need to discuss with you in person."
"Working on your chemistry, Scully?" he asked her, draining the glass
until all that remained were the "rocks" to his scotch.
She couldn't help but scoff. 'I suppose I deserve that,'
she thought.
"You're partially right, Mulder," she answered coolly, dismissing the
usual obligatory reprimand for fear of angering him further.
"Well, spill it, Scully. What is it that's so important?"
"I can't tell you over the phone," she replied, "Meet me at my place
in an hour." Normally the offer to come to her place would have
inspired some suggestive commentary but now...he wasn't sure. Mulder
stumbled clumsily to his feet and dug in his pocket for some rumpled
bills. Upon throwing them on the counter, he departed into
the night.
Dana Scully Residence
10:00 A.M.
"Once more, Scully, this time in English." Fox Mulder was seated on
Scully's comfortable, cream couch in her cozy apartment. His long
legs rose nearly to his chin and his elbows rested lightly on his
kneecaps. His head felt like a lead ball and the only thing capable
of providing a modicum of support were the palms of his strong hands.
Scully entered the living room carrying a mug filled with
black coffee between both hands. "You know, Mulder," she
berated him, "this would all be a lot easier to understand
if you weren't suffering from a severe hangover."
He looked up at her, his hazel eyes dancing with boyish mischief
despite his tired condition. "Thank you Dr. Scully," he replied,
"but somehow I don't believe that."
Scully feigned shock and dismay, "What are you saying, Mulder? That
you don't believe that science will provide easy answers?"
Mulder chuckled in spite of himself, smiling like the master who
foresees checkmate in the movement of his apprentice, "I want to
believe."
Scully's smile betrayed her affection. "At least he's talking to me
again," she thought, "at least that's something." She placed the mug
on the coffee table in front him and watched as he took a couple of
swigs.
"Feeling better?" she asked.
"Couldn't feel better if it rained hearts and honeybuns," he
responded dryly. He took another gulp of coffee. "Why don't
you just tell me what you found again," he asked her, "but this
time slooowwwlllyyy..."
Scully picked up the manila envelope that lay beside the mug on the
coffee table. She had confiscated it from Dr. Sykes, warning
her that if she kept it, they might dispose of her and the
evidence as they did her sister. Sykes initially protested,
but finally relented, realizing that the only way to bring
her sister's killer to justice was to live and to work with
the two agents. Scully opened the folder and explained the
contents -slowly- to Mulder. After a solid half hour, she
was sure that he had fully grasped the meanings of
extraterrestrial elements, nucleotides, and electronegativity.
Sure, it took a little longer than usual, but she had to admit,
he was the sharpest damn drunk that she had ever met.
After the crash course in biochemistry, Scully closed the file
excitedly. "Do you know what this means, Mulder?" she asked him,
"This means that we finally have hard evidence, conclusive scientific
facts that prove what is going on here."
"And what is going on here, Scully?" he asked, anticipating her
answer.
She didn't know how to respond. The evidence was there, like she
said, but was she to believe it? "I don't know exactly, Mulder. But
what I do know is that genetic engineering has brought about the
fusion of the Purity Control and human genomes, and that fusion
product was found to comprise the genetic makeup of the victim."
"And I'm willing to bet the farm that it's found in the other
victims, as well," he told her.
"Mulder," she asked, "do you really believe that?"
His eyes, more lucent now than the previous half hour, shone with the
intense excitement that appeared whenever he began to connect two and
two together. "Guess what time it is, Scully?" he asked her.
She looked at the beautiful gold-encrusted watch on her left hand.
It had been a Christmas present from her mother that came with the
cute little note "Don't forget to take some time for yourself, Dana."
"It's nearly 10:30, Mulder," she answered.
"Wrong, Scully," he told her, "It's just about that time where
you and I roll up our sleeves and get digging."
"What are you talking about, Mulder?" she asked, worried that
he still wasn't over the effects of his early morning binge.
"It's exhumation time, Scully," he answered, "You bring the coffee,
I'll bring the shovels." He stood up from the couch, grinning
through the pain in his head, "And you say I never take you
anywhere."
11:59 A.M.
Fox Mulder sat at a table for two situated at the back of the
restaurant. Next to the table, a large bay window overlooked a
beautiful park with plentiful oaks and weeping willows.
In the center was a large, marble fountain. Goldfish
happily swam about, living out their lives in peaceful
oblivion beneath the crystal-blue waters.
Mulder adjusted his tie and checked his watch. Twelve o'clock. From
the corner of his eye he saw two legs in a short, blue skirt approach
his table and halt in front of him. He looked up and saw Lauren's
supermodel features beaming back at him.
"Long time, no see, stranger," she said, taking her
seat opposite him. He smiled inwardly. Punctual as
always, he thought to himself.
"Nice to see you, too, Lauren," he replied as a waiter
approached with a bottle of Red Merlow and angel-hair
pasta, "I took the privilege of ordering for you." She
smiled. She loved that about him, the way he just took
charge of a situation. He liked to be in control.
"Thank you, Fox," she said, "It looks delicious." She placed the
pressed napkin atop her lap and crossed her legs.
"It certainly does," he mumbled to himself, but inadvertent blushing
revealed that she had overheard. She picked up her fork, spiraling
the spaghetti about with her spoon.
"It's been awhile since we've had a pleasant lunch, hasn't it Fox?"
she said to him, sucking the pasta between her ruby-red lips and
exposing her tongue.
"It certainly has," he answered, pouring the Merlow into two wine
glasses, "What has it been, seven, eight years?"
"Nine, I think," she answered. She took a sip of the wine. "It's
been a long time, Fox. Look at you, brilliant, although
underestimated agent of the most prestigious agency in
the United States."
"You're not doing too bad yourself, Lauren," he responded, taking a
bite of his lunch, "carrying out the work that you've longed for, a
respected detective. What more could you possibly want for
yourself?" She began to blush again.
"Well, Fox," she said, "that is precisely the reason that I asked you
here today."
Mulder placed the fork on his plate and folded his hands. "What are
you talking about, Lauren?" he asked her, "I thought you
invited me to discuss the case?" She chuckled aloud, "Oh,
Fox, did you really believe that I asked you to join me at
a romantic, Italian restaurant just to talk business?"
Mulder noticed for the first time the two candles that were
perched in the middle of the table of the dimly-lit room. He
thought about the discussion that he and Scully had had earlier
in the day. Maybe she was right. Maybe this was a bad idea.
Mulder started to respond, but Lauren held up her hands in an effort
to silence him, "No, Fox, don't say anything. Just let me say what I
need to say."
Lauren took a deep breath as she replayed the dialogue that she had
practiced in her mind on so many previous occasions. "Fox, there is
something missing from my life. I've known it ever since I
left you. I may have my work and my health, but I need someone
to share my life with. I need you, Fox."
He sighed, a long sigh of consternation and exhaustion. "Lauren," he
said gently, "I don't think you know what you're saying. You
left me,remember? You couldn't deal with, what was it that you
said, 'my obsession with my sister,' remember?"
"Oh, Fox," she interjected, "that was so long ago. I was only a girl
then. I'm a woman now, a woman with needs and desires." She
took his hand in hers. "I need you, Fox," she said, "I love
you." Mulder shook his head and put his other hand over hers,
"You don't love me, Lauren..."
His words were cut short as she placed her forefinger over his lips,
"Shhh," she cooed, "you don't need to say anything." She wrapped her
hand around the back of his head, running her fingers through his
hair. "Don't say anything." She pulled his face towards hers, and
threw her lips over his, soft at first, but harder, and
harder still. He responded at first, and for a split second
it was like being with her all over again, like they were
never separated. For a split second, he wanted her and
kissed her back. In his mind's eye, however, he saw Scully
arguing with him outside of the department. He saw her angry
with him, fighting with him, fighting for him, and all of a
sudden he drew back.
"Lauren," he said, "I can't, we can't. This is wrong. I'm
sorry, but I just don't feel the same way about you." He
searched her face. She seemed upset, hurt.
"Oh," she mumbled, "I'm so sorry, Fox." She got up awkwardly and
stumbled from the table.
"Lauren," he called to her, "Lauren, wait. We need to talk." He
hurriedly got up from the table and ran after her. He opened the
front door to the restaurant and looked both ways down the
street, but she was nowhere in sight. Mulder put his hand
on his hip and shook his head in disgust. "Way to go, Fox,"
he said to himself and retraced his steps into the
restaurant to pay the bill.
Liberty Bell Inn
4:13 P.M.
Scully was startled from a restless sleep by the sound of
three knocks upon the door.
"Scully, it's me, open up."
She lay on her side, still wearing the skirt and jacket of her black
suit. She had fallen asleep so suddenly that she hadn't even
had time to put on a change of clothes. The exhaustion caused
by the late night at the morgue had finally settled in. Three
more knocks, "Scully, are you there? Open the door."
"Coming," she called, throwing her legs over the side of the
bed. She stood up, smoothed out her suit, and checked herself
in the small mirror beside the bed before advancing towards
the door.
"Jesus, Scully," Mulder scolded her, "what took you so long? I
was out here knocking for five minutes. If I was Skinner, my
head would have frost bite by now."
"Mulder," she scoffed, curling the corners of her lips in response to
the joke, "I could ask you the same thing. Where have you been?"
Mulder's eyes averted her gaze. It seemed as though he was
attempting to make up his mind about something. "Mulder?"
Scully questioned again, "Where were you?"
Mulder shook his head and decided to tell her the truth, "I went out
to lunch with Lauren." Scully's demeanor instantly changed at the
sound of Alvarez's name. Her eyebrow arched as she responded with a
simple, "Oh?"
"Yes, Scully," he answered jerkily. He felt for some strange reason
that he owed her something resembling an explanation. His
words began to get jumbled as he quickly endeavored to
explain himself. "Right after you left, Lauren called,
Scully. She asked me to meet her for lunch to discuss
the case, but when I got there, well...she didn't really
want to talk about the case. I think you were right, Scully,
I think she..."
Scully held up her hands in disgust. "Stop, Mulder," she
told him, "I don't need to know about this. This isn't
my business."
"But, Scully," he started, "I want you to know..."
"No," she interjected again, "I don't want to know." Scully shrugged
her shoulders, "Besides, I need to talk to you about the case."
Mulder seated himself on the edge of her bed. He looked tired. He
stared at her through sad, weary eyes, "What do you want to tell me?"
"I contacted Skinner today," she began, "I informed him of the
progress we've made in regards to the connection between the murderer
and religion. He wanted to know how much longer we planned on
staying here."
"And what did you tell him?" Mulder asked.
"I told him that I wasn't sure," Scully responded, "but then I
received a phone call from Agent Sykes in the microbiology unit. I
sent the blood work of the victim to her after the autopsy and asked
that she conduct the tests first thing. She told me that there is
something very strange in her blood, something that she didn't feel
comfortable telling me over the phone. Mulder, I need to return to
Washington right away."
Mulder slowly nodded his head. "I'll go with you, Scully," he told
her, "There's nothing else to be done here for the moment."
He yawned and lay back on the bed, arms folded behind his
head. "I'm so tired, Scully," he confided.
Scully sat next to him on the bed, "I know, Mulder, it's been a long
day." He sat up and looked at her. Her face was inches from his.
"Scully," he tried again, "I want to tell you what happened at lunch
today."
"Mulder," she said, "you don't owe me anything...," but he
stopped her in mid-sentence.
"No," he told her authoritatively, "I'm going to tell you something,
something I've been trying to tell you for years."
Scully braced herself. Her fingers clutched the edge of the bed
tensely. She could feel her heart run a marathon in chest and her
face began to feel flush. For years they had danced around the
subject. There had been plenty of gentle flirtation on both sides,
but neither had the inclination to make the first move, to test their
relationship beyond the safe confines of friendship. Was this
what he wanted? Was he going to make the leap of faith for
which she wasn't prepared?
"What is it, Mulder?" she asked anxiously. He fiddled nervously with
his tie and took a deep breath.
"Come on, Fox," he said to himself, "you can do this." He stared at
her, long and hard, gaining strength from her beauty and
determination. He prepared to initiate the most difficult discussion
of his nearly seven-year relationship with his enchanting partner.
"Working on this case with Lauren has brought back a lot
of memories," he told her, "memories of happy times,
memories of sad times, many, many memories." He smirked
as scenes of her flashed through his mind. "She and I were,
as you may have guessed, romantically involved seven years
ago. I was just a young, naive agent, having come across
the X-Files. After the dissolution of my relationship with
Diana, I was heartbroken, wearing my heart on my sleeve. I
stumbled into one relationship, well, I suppose you
couldn't really call them relationships, after another.
One night while browsing through the National Archives,
I met Lauren. She was an intern at the F.B.I., doing
profiling research for a serial killer that was terrorizing
New York City. She was as young and passionate as I was,
and we instantly clicked. In comparison to my relationship
with Diana, my tryst with Lauren was much shorter, but just
as exciting."
He paused to take a breath. Scully opened her mouth to ask exactly
what Lauren and his relationship had to do with her, but thought
better of it. She inhaled and allowed him to continue.
"Today Lauren asked me to lunch to discuss our past, and our
collective future. She told me she loved me, that she
wanted us to be together, that she needed me. She even
tried to kiss me, and for a minute, I wanted to, too. But
then I thought of you, Scully. I thought of how you warned
me of her feelings. I thought of how you protected me
against my own madness. I thought of your endless devotion
to my cause, of all that you've given up to help me on my
quest. I thought of how your brilliance saved my life after
I was exposed to the alien virus. But most of all, I thought
of how you are always there for me. I thought about how when
you were abducted, and when you were injected with the virus
from that bee sting, of how I could never imagine living
without you."
Scully swallowed hard. "Mulder," she said quietly, "I don't quite
know what to say. I mean, you are so important to me. I couldn't
imagine not having you in my life either. That's why I fought
so hard when you almost died, I couldn't bear losing you."
He smiled at her and looked about the room. "You know, Scully," he
said, "it seems like every turning point in our relationship comes
when we're sitting in one of these rink-a-dink motel rooms." A spark
flew across Scully's brain. No wonder the room looked so familiar.
It had the same set-up as the room in which she stayed while
investigating her first X-File. A scene from her past flashed
through her mind. It was the first time she met Mulder and
they were investigating the strange deaths of teenagers in
Bellefleur, Oregon. Mulder's talk of puncture wounds on the backs
of abductees had frightened her into believing that she was
abducted when she had experienced what he called "lost time."
She had run into his room wearing only a bathrobe and had shown
him three puncture wounds on her back. She recalled her relief
when he explained that they were merely mosquito bites.
She smiled fondly at him, "I remember," she said, "You had me
convinced that I was going to turn out like Billy Miles."
He chuckled, "It didn't take long before you were undressing yourself
for me, did it Scully?"
"Oh, Mulder," she cried, striking him lightly on his firm
forearm. He grabbed for her hand as she struck the blow.
He held it tightly, but sincerely. He gently stroked her
knuckles with his thumb.
"That night," he reminded her, "I bore my soul to you, a complete
stranger. I explained to you about the fate of my sister
and my quest to find out what had happened to her. Scully,
I knew instantly that I could trust you. Even if you
didn't believe in extraterrestrial life, you believed in me,
and I believe in you."
He shifted uncomfortably. He couldn't stop now. "Scully, Lauren's
talk of love today forced me to recognize my own feelings, feelings
that I've had for a long time but have never been able to express
before. I don't love her, Scully, and she doesn't love me. I don't
believe she knows what true love is, and I used to think that I never
would experience it either. But now I know what love is, Scully,
because you've helped me find it. All this searching for the truth,
and I've been denying it for seven years now, burying it like the
Syndicate buried the truth."
Scully arched her eyebrow and shot him a quizzical look. "Mulder,
what is it that you're trying to say?" she asked.
Mulder breathed deeply and grabbed her other hand. He held them both
up, supported by his. They looked as though they were standing
at the base of an alter, professing their love for each other
through vows of eternal devotion. "What I'm trying to say,
Scully," he told her, "is that I love you."
Scully looked aghast, mouth slightly ajar, eyes wide with fear and
uncertainty. She was silent for what, to Mulder, seemed like an
eternity. She lifted her palm and placed it against his forehead, as
if checking for a temperature. "Mulder, are you feeling okay?" she
asked him.
"Well," he mumbled to himself, "that went well," and then to her, "I
think I've alienated myself enough for one night." He stood up, "If
you need me, I'll be next door...hanging myself." He gestured to the
door and began to walk towards it.
"Mulder, wait," she called to him, "Don't go. Please come sit down."
He turned back to face her. He looked good, his long tie
complementing his eyes. She patted the empty space next to
her on the bed. "I'm sorry. I didn't know what to say.
You kind of caught me off guard."
He plopped down on the bed next to her. "No," he told her, "I'm
sorry. That was something heavy to have just dropped in your
lap like that." He started to stammer as his emotions began
to get the better of him. "It's just that I'm sick of
carrying out this charade day in and day out. I know how I
feel, Scully, and I think that you feel the same way, too,
but I need you to say it, to tell me how you feel about me."
She sighed, a long sigh of distress and confusion.
"Mulder," she said slowly, "this isn't anything new.
Believe me, I've thought about the possibility of a
relationship between us for quite some time. To be
honest, I'm very much attracted to you, not just
physically, but on an emotional level, as well." For
once, her clinical detachment sounded so sweet to his
ears. She continued, "You're intelligent, humorous,
caring, passionate..."
His smile began to deteriorate into a frown. "...but," he continued
on her behalf.
She took up the rest of the sentence, "...but I'm not sure if we
should take our relationship to the next plateau."
"Scully," he questioned, slight irritation arising unconsciously in
his voice, "What exactly is it that you're afraid of?" He looked
deeply into her eyes, hoping to find in them the truth to the deepest
recesses of her soul. Scully nervously twitted her thumbs as she
carefully prepared her every word.
"I'm afraid of you, Mulder," she finally told him, "I'm afraid
of what will happen when I become attached and you decide to
leave. What would it be like if we could not remain friends?
I just don't think that I could handle something like that."
He took her hand in his. She had never before seen him so serious.
Not even a smile penetrated his dower demeanor.
"I would never let that happen, Scully," he said defiantly, "I would
never risk losing the greatest partner or friend that I have ever
known. But you cannot let your fear of the future stop you from
fighting for something good, something so easily obtainable."
She looked fondly at him, the man for whom she had given so much and
gotten so much greater in return. His deep, hazel eyes penetrated
every core of her being, and she finally knew in heart what was true.
"Mulder, I do share your feelings. My feelings for you are so great
that they are almost tangible, but I am still afraid..." He didn't
let her finish the sentence.
"Don't be," he told her, leaning in closer to her body. His lips
inched along her face until they reached her ear. "There's
nothing to be afraid of," he whispered to her, playfully
twirling her soft, sweet-smelling hair between his fingers.
He pulled back and once more peered into her eyes. She reached
up, placing her palm aside his cheek as he coupled the nape of
her tiny neck with his strong hand.
"I'm not," she told him, for the first time fully assured, "not
anymore."
He saw the red-headed woman respond uneasily to whatever it was that
her partner had confided in her. She had felt his head, causing him
to rise and walk toward the door. He ducked behind a bush, hoping
that his dark robes would render him impenetrable to the gaze of the
lanky agent. He hid for several minutes until he was sure that
it was safe. He summoned his courage and approached the window
that peered into the tiny room. They were both sitting on the
bed, now. He could feel their intentions, their longing. It
was hot and sinful, like a burning iron branding an animal.
She placed her hand on his face, and he, his on her neck. He
watched as they drew closer, about to consummate their proud
and dangerous transgression. He turned his head as the screech
of tires forewarned an approaching observer. The headlights
shone fiercely about him, like the column of fire that separated
the Deliverer from impending doom at the hands of Pharaoh. He
ducked from view of the window and advanced into the darkness.
Scully leaned in, yearning to quench the fire in her lips. He pulled
her closer with the hand placed so subtly behind her neck. "Mulder,"
she breathed.
"Scully," he softly replied. Her eyes widened as she caught the
glimpse of a shadow at the window, illuminated by the headlights
of an advancing vehicle.
"Mulder," she cried louder, pointing to the figure, "someone's out
there."
Mulder turned his head violently, grabbing for the gun at
his hip. He stood up and ran to the door. "I'll kill you,"
he mumbled, angered more by the interruption than the threat
of danger, "I don't care if it's J. Edgar, himself." He
opened the door and surveyed the surroundings, looking left
and right. He turned around and closed the door behind him.
"Nobody's there, Scully," he told her, repositioning himself at her
side, "Now where were we?"
"Mulder," she cried, pushing his chest away with both hands, "I know
what I saw. There was someone there."
"Well," he said, a smile appearing at the corners of his
mouth, "maybe we ought to give him a good show, what do
you say?" It was no use. The interruption had effectively
destroyed the mood and any chance he had for getting closer
to her.
"I'm sorry, Mulder," Scully told him apprehensively, "but I'm tired.
I think I'd like to go to bed. We have to fly back to Washington
early tomorrow." She threw him a ticket for the 7:30 A.M.
flight back to D.C. that she had bought earlier in the day.
"See you bright and early," she told him, advancing towards
the door to walk him out. Mulder got up from the bed and took
one final look at Scully as he walked dejectedly to his room
to spend another night alone.
J. Edgar Hoover Building
March 26, 2000
9:00 A.M.
The plane ride back had been hell. She couldn't recall why she had
decided to place their two seats next to each other. Then she
remembered. She had purchased them before Mulder so
genuinely smeared his feelings like a doormat for her to
step on. She recalled that his sarcasm when she had asked
for the window seat was more abrasive than usual: "Why
bother, Scully? It's not as though you'll see anything
of interest that cannot be explained away by scientific
means. It's a warm, sunny day, I'm sure there's plenty of
weather balloons floating around just waiting to be
mistaken for U.F.O.'s."
She was used to the droll humor, that was normal. It was the silence
that she had trouble reconciling. For as long as she had known him,
Mulder was hardly recognized as someone who could remain silent for
more than two minutes at a time. But he had remained silent the
entire hour that it took to land at Dulles, excluding of course some
rather suggestive comments to the flight attendant after having
one-too-many shots of Absolut.
She couldn't stand him being angry with her, but she could hardly
blame him either. What was barring her from acknowledging her
feelings? Sure, she had told him that those feelings existed,
but she was hardly entirely truthful. If she could have acted
impulsively, even for one moment, she would have torn off that
tie and thrown him down onto the bed...but she just couldn't do
that. No, she had to think of all the reasons why a relationship
between them wouldn't work out. Mulder was right, she needed to
stop thinking, to stop ending the relationship before it was even
initiated. If she were to not allow anything to happen between
them, it would be like failing before any difficulties were even
broached.
"Agent Scully?"
Her decision about Mulder would have to wait for another day. Agent
Sykes was addressing her. Scully was standing in the microbiology
unit of the F.B.I., patiently lingering about to view what it
was that was so important that it could not be spoken of over
the telephone.
"Yes," Scully answered, "It's nice to see you, Agent Sykes.
It's good of you to have run the tests so quickly."
"You're very welcome," Sykes replied, "but I should be thanking you.
I feel very privileged to have been brought in on this case." Sykes
ushered her into a secluded room at the back-right corner of the
office. Scully noticed that Sykes had locked the door behind her and
closed the blinds of the large, front windows. She cradled a manila
folder in her arms, like the mother of a newborn child. Scully shot
her a questioning look.
"What is it, exactly that you found?" she asked.
"I think you had better sit down," Sykes responded, tossing
the folder lightly on top of her desk as she took her seat.
Scully's eyes widenedas a familiar name leapt from the pages.
"Purity Control," she read aloud.
Mouth slightly agape, Scully's gaze turned quickly from the papers on
the desk to Agent Sykes, herself. "How do you know about Purity
Control?" Scully asked her, and then scolded herself for questioning
to rashly.
"Please sit down, Agent Scully," Sykes beseeched her, "and I
will tell you the whole story of my involvement."
Scully obliged, taking the seat opposite Sykes and folded her hands
carefully on the desk. She looked up through wary eyes and urged the
agent forward, "Please continue."
"Do you recall the name Dr. Anne Carpenter, Agent Scully?" Sykes
asked.
"Of course," Scully responded without a moment's hesitation, "Dr.
Carpenter was head of the Georgetown University Microbiology
Department. She aided me in an investigation regarding...regarding
the homicide of a scientist working in developing gene therapy."
Sykes arched her left eyebrow as Scully shuffled uncomfortably in her
chair. She felt like the victim of some voyeuristic joker, like
cameras were set up at each angle of the room in order to record her
every word. Her gaze diverted this way and that, plagued by the
thought of unseen eyes watching her movement.
"What you meant to say," Sykes corrected her, "is that Dr. Carpenter
aided in an investigation regarding Purity Control, that she assisted
you in analyzing the sample and in doing so discovered an extra base
pair that she defined as extraterrestrial in origin. This base pair
contributed to the formation of a fifth and sixth nucleotide in the
sample's genome, and for some unknown reason, several gaps existed in
the sequence itself." Scully took in a deep breath, wondering
exactly how much she should trust this woman who seemed to know
as much, if not more than she. Scully braced herself for the
windfall.
"If I may be so bold, Agent Sykes, how is it that you came by this
knowledge?" she inquired.
"Hours before she was in the accident, Dr. Carpenter called me. She
informed me of what she had found, that she believed that by
acquiring such knowledge she had endangered the life of
herself and her family. She was under the impression that
she was being followed. She saw shadows wherever she went.
I, of course, thought that she was suffering from deep
paranoia, but the deaths of her and her family...Well, I
suppose it turns out that her paranoia was well founded."
Sykes shrugged her shoulders, "Anyway, Dr. Carpenter told
me that if she were to die that I should be alert to any
specimen that would turn up in the future. She told me to
follow your work closely, Agent Scully. I suppose you
assisted me in that respect by contacting me. At any rate,
I have a vested interest in seeing this through. You see,
Agent Scully, Dr. Carpenter was my sister and I am convinced
that her accident was no accident, that she was, in fact,
murdered for her discovery of the base pair in Purity
Control."
Scully digested what Sykes had told her. "I understand what you have
confided in me, Agent Sykes," she began, "but what
does Purity Control have to do with the blood samples
that I sent to you?"
"That's just it, Agent Scully," she answered, "the genome isolated in
the blood samples is identical to that of Purity Control, with one
minor exception."
"And what would that exception be, Agent Sykes?" Scully asked, still
unsure if she was being fed lies.
"Like I said," Sykes told her, "the genome that comprised Purity
Control contained gaps, missing base pairs in the sequence, something
completely unheard of in any organic organism found here on Earth.
Annie was attempting to divine the reason for this before her
untimely death. She had little success, but she was able to
hide a sample away so that I might carry on her work. For
the past six years I have tested and analyzed every pair in
the genome and have come to the following conclusion: the
chemical composition, that is, the elements that comprise
the base pairs found in Purity Control, are unknown in origin
and are highly electronegative. In fact, they are twice as
electronegative as the strongest electronegative Earth
element, fluorine. You are aware of what causes
electronegativity, are you not, Dr. Scully?"
"Yes," Scully answered, feeling as though she was back in the
classroom, waiting anxiously for permission to begin her chemistry
exam, "electronegativity is essentially a pull of electrons from a
chemical bond. It is a property of an element whereby an atom
attempts to become more stable by obtaining the fullest amount of
electrons possible in one orbital, eight to be precise."
"That is correct, Agent Scully. I can see that all of those years of
acquiring medical knowledge were not lost on you." Sykes smiled
warmly at her as she continued the briefing, "It seems that the
elements present in the nucleotides of Purity Control are so
electronegative that the electrons of one nucleotide effectively
repel the electrons of the neighboring nucleotide. Compounded
with the already highly negative phosphate and deoxyribose
backbone, this leaves no possibility for stabilization
within that region in nature, generating the gap in the genome.
In other words, the gap between nucleotides is twice that of
the organic Earth gap. Only after this interval are the
electrons far enough apart that the charge becomes dissipated
enough to have another base pair." Scully sighed, unsure of
what to believe. She had been misled so many times in the
past, she just hoped that this time an investigation would
bear fruit. She said to Sykes, "That is all extremely
interesting, but you still have yet to tell me what is the
difference between Purity Control and the blood samples."
"Agent Scully," she answered, "the blood samples that you sent to me
contain the extra base pair, the fifth and sixth nucleotide, but
there is no gap between them."
Scully countered, "But I thought you said that there is no
conceivable stabilization if two nucleotides were adjacent
to each other."
"I said in nature, Agent Scully." Sykes looked at her hard, waiting
for her to grasp the serious nature of what she was saying.
Scully's eyes widened as she realized what the doctor was intimating,
"But that would mean..."
Agent Sykes nodded her head in profound silence. "Yes,
Agent Scully," she completed the thought for her, "That
would mean that someone has figured out how to control
the sequence, that someone has genetically engineered
Purity Control to alleviate the gaps, and that your murder
victim is the product of this genetic engineering."
"Mulder," the voice greeted her gruffly from the other end. She had
let the phone ring seven times and was about to hang up when he
finally answered.
"Mulder, it's me," she answered, relieved at finally hearing
his voice after accepting his harsh sentence of silence,
"where are you?"
Mulder watched himself in the mirror behind the counter. He watched
as the reflection raised its cell with one hand and a glass in the
other. His hair was disheveled and all that remained of his
mandatory suit ensemble was a wrinkled, uncuffed, Oxford shirt
and a pair of gray pleated pants. "I'm washing my hair, Scully,"
he told her, a mixture of relief and anger at hearing her voice
so soon after their little heart-to-heart, "where are you?"
"I'm at the Bureau's Microbiology Department," she answered, "and
there is something that I need to discuss with you in person."
"Working on your chemistry, Scully?" he asked her, draining the glass
until all that remained were the "rocks" to his scotch.
She couldn't help but scoff. 'I suppose I deserve that,'
she thought.
"You're partially right, Mulder," she answered coolly, dismissing the
usual obligatory reprimand for fear of angering him further.
"Well, spill it, Scully. What is it that's so important?"
"I can't tell you over the phone," she replied, "Meet me at my place
in an hour." Normally the offer to come to her place would have
inspired some suggestive commentary but now...he wasn't sure. Mulder
stumbled clumsily to his feet and dug in his pocket for some rumpled
bills. Upon throwing them on the counter, he departed into
the night.
Dana Scully Residence
10:00 A.M.
"Once more, Scully, this time in English." Fox Mulder was seated on
Scully's comfortable, cream couch in her cozy apartment. His long
legs rose nearly to his chin and his elbows rested lightly on his
kneecaps. His head felt like a lead ball and the only thing capable
of providing a modicum of support were the palms of his strong hands.
Scully entered the living room carrying a mug filled with
black coffee between both hands. "You know, Mulder," she
berated him, "this would all be a lot easier to understand
if you weren't suffering from a severe hangover."
He looked up at her, his hazel eyes dancing with boyish mischief
despite his tired condition. "Thank you Dr. Scully," he replied,
"but somehow I don't believe that."
Scully feigned shock and dismay, "What are you saying, Mulder? That
you don't believe that science will provide easy answers?"
Mulder chuckled in spite of himself, smiling like the master who
foresees checkmate in the movement of his apprentice, "I want to
believe."
Scully's smile betrayed her affection. "At least he's talking to me
again," she thought, "at least that's something." She placed the mug
on the coffee table in front him and watched as he took a couple of
swigs.
"Feeling better?" she asked.
"Couldn't feel better if it rained hearts and honeybuns," he
responded dryly. He took another gulp of coffee. "Why don't
you just tell me what you found again," he asked her, "but this
time slooowwwlllyyy..."
Scully picked up the manila envelope that lay beside the mug on the
coffee table. She had confiscated it from Dr. Sykes, warning
her that if she kept it, they might dispose of her and the
evidence as they did her sister. Sykes initially protested,
but finally relented, realizing that the only way to bring
her sister's killer to justice was to live and to work with
the two agents. Scully opened the folder and explained the
contents -slowly- to Mulder. After a solid half hour, she
was sure that he had fully grasped the meanings of
extraterrestrial elements, nucleotides, and electronegativity.
Sure, it took a little longer than usual, but she had to admit,
he was the sharpest damn drunk that she had ever met.
After the crash course in biochemistry, Scully closed the file
excitedly. "Do you know what this means, Mulder?" she asked him,
"This means that we finally have hard evidence, conclusive scientific
facts that prove what is going on here."
"And what is going on here, Scully?" he asked, anticipating her
answer.
She didn't know how to respond. The evidence was there, like she
said, but was she to believe it? "I don't know exactly, Mulder. But
what I do know is that genetic engineering has brought about the
fusion of the Purity Control and human genomes, and that fusion
product was found to comprise the genetic makeup of the victim."
"And I'm willing to bet the farm that it's found in the other
victims, as well," he told her.
"Mulder," she asked, "do you really believe that?"
His eyes, more lucent now than the previous half hour, shone with the
intense excitement that appeared whenever he began to connect two and
two together. "Guess what time it is, Scully?" he asked her.
She looked at the beautiful gold-encrusted watch on her left hand.
It had been a Christmas present from her mother that came with the
cute little note "Don't forget to take some time for yourself, Dana."
"It's nearly 10:30, Mulder," she answered.
"Wrong, Scully," he told her, "It's just about that time where
you and I roll up our sleeves and get digging."
"What are you talking about, Mulder?" she asked, worried that
he still wasn't over the effects of his early morning binge.
"It's exhumation time, Scully," he answered, "You bring the coffee,
I'll bring the shovels." He stood up from the couch, grinning
through the pain in his head, "And you say I never take you
anywhere."