Title: Rise From the Ashes
Author: Flyerfly
Rating: R (language and some sexual innuendo)
Category: MSR/UST
Time Frame: Early S6, somewhere around Drive.
Summary: Mulder, restless after being sent on
another dead-end assignment, decides to take
matters into his own hands and sets out in
search of an X-File.
Disclaimer: None of the regulars are mine.
Those that aren't, are. But I don't care,
C.C.. If you want them, you can have them.
I'm not picky.
*roll the credits*
Interstate 30W
9:45 A.M.
"Mulder, did you hear what I said?" Dana
Scully's voice sounded strangely muffled from
behind the unfolded map in her hands. The
only signs of her presence were the intense
red hairs that emanated from atop the papers
that dominated the passenger's side.
"Mmm?" Mulder purred. Scully could tell he
was deep in thought. Both of his hands were
planted firmly on the steering wheel and his
body frame was tight and severe. His gaze was
steady, staring out through the windshield,
and his gray-green eyes were alight with that
intense excitement that always shone when he
was in the midst of an investigation. Why was
a matter of some debate, however. Scully,
herself, could not see anything remotely
interesting about being dragged off to inspect
yet another supposed American-made terrorist
attack. Ever since she and Mulder had been
reassigned, they had been sifting through one
big pile of shit after another. With the
X-Files closed, she wondered if there
was any reason at all to stay in the Bureau.
It would be a hell of a lot easier to turn over
her badge. They had been trying to get rid of
them for years now. The terrorism work was
absolutely punishment for their "insolence," of
that she was sure. Sometimes it really wasn't
worth it. She lowered the map and peered
closely at his strong, handsome features,
evidence of the strength he carried within
himself. Other times…
"I said that the exit towards San Antonio was
back there towards the right," she folded the
map and replaced it in the dashboard, "It's
probably about a mile back now."
Mulder smiled thoughtfully and took his eyes
off of the stretch of thousands of straight,
empty road in front of him. "I thought we'd
take the scenic route, Scully," he said, and
turned once more towards the highway, but not
before Scully caught the playful gleam twinkle
in his eyes.
"Mulder," she reminded him, "we don't have time
for the scenic route. We have to go investigate
this potential terrorist. Kersh has been looking
for any excuse to give us our walking papers, we
can't give him any incentive. Side trips are
just not in the itinerary."
"Scully," Mulder reproached, "aren't you getting
tired of sifting through feces? Just because Mrs.
Kelly Horst in San Antonio purchases a large
amount of fertilizer to facilitate the growth of
her tree farm, it doesn't mean that she is
necessarily about to generate the next Oklahoma
City." He glanced at her, a boyish smirk apparent
on his lips. "Besides," he said, "If there's a
load of shit to dig up in these contiguous
forty-eight states, then I'm pretty sure that most
of the shoveling is occurring in the vicinity of
Washington, D.C., not Texas."
"Mulder…" she started, but he interrupted her with
a wave of his hand.
"Listen, Scully, we will absolutely, positively
check out the sadistic tree farmer on the way back,
okay? If not because it is our job, but simply to
assuage any fear or concern that you might carry
for the welfare of our fine nation."
"On the way back?" she questioned, "Mulder, Kersh
is not going to be happy."
"Don't you think that he'd be more concerned about
the monetary expenditure required in finding the
next exit miles down the line, turning the vehicle
around, traveling back, and then heading off to
San Antonio? I'm sure that he would agree that
the most positive course of action would be to
take a short cut."
"Mulder," she huffed, cheeks reddening with a
mixture of contention and ire, "these roads are
completely straight. There are no shortcuts."
"Scully, you'll never get to the top of the F.B.I.
hierarchy with that attitude."
Scully folded her arms across her chest and sat
back in petulant, silent, defiance as Mulder
hummed aloud to the car radio.
US Highway 90
12:49 P.M.
Scully's arms were still folded when Mulder
directed the silver Ford Taurus off the side of
the road as it puttered away its dying breath and
came to a sickly stop. Taking his right hand off
the steering wheel, he paused long enough to look
at his partner and command her, "Don't say a
word." Then, he unbuckled his belt, opened the
door, and swiftly jumped to his feet, happily
stretching his aching muscles after having sat
stationary for so long. As he plucked his cell
phone from his pants pocket, he thought he heard
her say something to the effect of, "Nice
shortcut." Choosing not to grace her comment
with a response, he turned around, phone to his
ear, and gave her a stern look of disapproval.
"Triple A, how can I help you?"
"Hello. My name is Fox Mulder and I need some
assistance. My car has broken down on US 90. I
am located about 26 miles away from Alpine, Texas.
Could you send someone out to pick me up?"
"As soon as we possibly can, sir," the
cheery-little-teenaged-operator chirped, "At the
moment we have no one available on staff. I can
have someone out in an hour or two."
Mulder sighed to himself. His hazel eyes
glistened as he contrived a plan. "Okay," he
responded sweetly, "that's fine." He paused and
then said, seemingly as an afterthought, "Oh, did
I give you my name? It's Special Agent Fox
Mulder," making sure to emphasize the "Special
Agent."
"Yes you did, sir," she answered, just as
innocently, "It'll be an hour or two."
"Thank you," he replied despondently. He turned
the phone off and placed it back in his pocket.
"Dumb bitch," he muttered as he walked back to
the car, head facing the dirt and hands in his
pockets. He glanced up, trying desperately not
to meet the gaze of the woman with the hair as
fiery as the gleam in her eyes.
He opened the door and sat down, grabbing for the
handle to push the seat back into a reclining
position. He closed his eyes and placed his hands
behind his head. "Don't say a word."
2:42 P.M.
"How did ya'll manage to find yourselves out here
by your lonesome?" The cute woman with the long
blonde hair smiled through ruby-red lips. Mulder
was seated in the passenger's side of the
tow-truck, grinning ear-to-ear.
"I'm not alone now," he thought devilishly.
"Well," he said, looking at the name on her
standard-issue uniform, "Amber Lynn, I was out
here working on a case for the government but I
misjudged the distance from the road to the next
rest-stop, and I guess I just ran out of gas."
He shrugged his shoulders, still grinning.
"Ya'll work for the federal gov'ment?" she asked,
astonished, "Whatta you do?"
"I work for the Federal Bureau of Investigation,"
he beamed, "Wanna see my badge?" He pulled the
identification from his jacket and displayed his
picture proudly.
"Fox?" she said, "Your name is Fox?"
He winced and nodded his head in affirmation.
"Well," she said seductively, gazing into his
eyes, "the name certainly fits."
He was beaming with masculinity.
"Maybe you could show me what there is to do
around here for a little excitement," he cooed.
"Do you wanna know what I like to do for
excitement?" she asked.
Mulder leaned in closer, but instead of
sweet-nothings, all he received was an earful of
hard knocks…literally. Mulder's body engaged in
a full-body heave as he awoke from an
uncomfortable sleep. The knocking came again,
and Mulder, startled, beat his head unwittingly
against the door.
"Ow." He rubbed his head and opened his groggy
eyes, adjusting them slowly to the intense light
of day. Scully appeared first through his
blurred vision, lying asleep in the passenger's
side. He cracked his neck and looked towards the
left, towards the direction from which the sounds
were coming.
"Amber Lynn?"
He gazed out through the open window. Instead of
a slender, beautiful, woman, his gaze was met by
that of a heavy-set, middle-aged man glancing
into the car.
"Did somebody call for some roadside assistance?"
3:08 P.M.
"I guess that does it." Kenny, a
balding, middle-aged Triple A worker jumped,
albeit a little-awkwardly, to his feet after
securing the last connection from the tow-truck
to Mulder's rented Taurus. He hiked up his pants,
covering the "handyman's crack" that had made an
appearance when he crouched down. He dusted off
his hands, informing the pair that, "We're all set
to go."
As Kenny climbed into the driver's seat, Mulder
opened the passenger's door with his right hand
and extended his left in a gesture of admittance.
"After you, Scully."
Scully glared at him as she climbed into the
stuffy three-seater truck. Mulder followed suit,
and soon the three were driving at a far-too
leisurely pace down the highway.
"So where ya'll from?" Kenny asked in a comedic
southern accent that Mulder thought seemed
slightly reminiscent of the buck-toothed vampire
that held Scully's amorous affection.
"Washington," Scully answered abruptly, putting
a fist to her nose in an attempt to stifle the
smell of sweat and grime that emanated from the
auto-man's body.
"Ah, Washington," Kenny responded dreamily,
spitting a wad of tobacco out the window,
"Beautiful state. Lovely place for a couple
to settle down."
"We're not together," Scully said insistently.
"Is that a fact?" Kenny asked, arching his
eyebrows and smiling widely.
"Oh for Christ's sake," Scully moaned under her
breath. Her hand moved to her forehead as she
turned and glared at Mulder. "I'm going to get
you for this," she mouthed to him. He shrugged
his shoulders in response.
"Washington, D.C.," Mulder explained.
"What's that now?" Kenny asked.
"We're from Washington, D.C.," Mulder repeated,
"We're partners at the Federal Bureau of
Investigation."
"Sure 'nuf?" Kenny asked, surprised at
encountering federal agents all the way off
the beaten path, "I always wanted to be in the
F.B.I. when I was a littlin. So what are ya'll
doing out here? Investigatin'? Can I see your
badge?"
"We took a short cut," Scully told him bluntly.
Mulder shot her a look of reproach, and pulled
out his identification. "We're investigating a
potential terrorist threat," Mulder answered.
"Oh," Kenny said simply, gazing in awe at
Mulder's picture. This was followed by an
awkward silence.
"Kenny," Scully finally said after some period
of time, "do you think you could turn on the
air-conditioning? It's a little stifling?" In
reality, it wasn't the heat so much that
bothered her, but the effect it had on Kenny's
odor that was truly upsetting her.
"Sorry, ma'am," he said, "but my
air-conditionin' has been on the fritz ever
since those lights done come to town."
"Fabulous," Scully replied under her breath,
once again placing her hand to her nose.
"Lights?" Mulder asked, his interest piqued,
"What lights?"
"Well, it's the damndest thing…," Kenny started,
and then said, "Nah, I can't tell you. You
wouldn't believe me anyway."
"No, no, go ahead," Mulder said, leaning forward,
"You'd be surprised what I'd believe."
"Okay, well, here goes." He adjusted his uniform,
feeling important in such prestigious company.
"A couple of nights ago, I was drivin' out on this
very highway, fixin' to pick up some guy with a
flat tire. About five miles out, I see these
lights in the sky -white, blue, and orange- just
dancin' around like a fox in a henhouse."
Mulder urged him forward as Scully chuckled at
Kenny's unknowing faux pas.
"Well, my radio starts goin' all haywire and
then all the power in the car goes completely
dead. I keep watchin' the lights and they sorta
stop in mid-flight. Then they start up again and
hear this weird sound, like 'BAM!'. And then
quick as a flash, they were gone. My truck
finally started up a couple of minutes later. I
went and made my pickup and then went back home.
Ever since then, my radio and my air-conditionin'
hasn't worked."
Mulder sat back in deep thought. "Where did you
see the lights?" he finally asked.
"Back in the other direction, maybe about two
miles outside of Marfa."
"Turn around," Mulder commanded, "I want you to
show me where you saw the lights."
"But it's in the other direction, sir," Kenny
informed him, "We'd be goin' in a direction
opposite my shop."
"Turn around," Mulder repeated.
"Okay," Kenny agreed, as he proceeded to turn
the car around.
"What was that about monetary expenditure?"
Scully asked.
Mulder leaned in close to Scully. "Hey,
Scully," he whispered in her ear, "you smell
bad."
3:58 P.M.
"This is it." Kenny pulled the tow-truck off
to the side of the road. It came to rest
before a small hill that overlooked miles of
flat land in every direction. There were a
few trees and a long, white fence, but other
than that, it was grass as far as the eye
could see.
"That's where I saw them," Kenny explained,
pointing to the area immediately above the
fence.
"Why don't we get a closer look?" Scully said,
throwing the passenger door open and pushing
Mulder out into the road.
"Good idea, Scully," he muttered as she closed
the door and stepped over him. Mulder stood
up and dusted the dirt off of his pants. He
followed after Scully, who had her hands on
her hips and was enjoying stretching her stiff
legs.
"Well," she said, turning around to face him,
"I don't see anything out of the ordinary."
"Maybe you're not looking hard enough," Mulder
replied, brushing past her and walking farther
out towards the edge of the fence.
"They kinda skittered along the posts, there,"
Kenny told them, "sorta like this." He made a
gesture parallel to the fence. "Then they
stopped and were gone."
"What do you think the objects were?" Mulder
asked him.
"Well…umm…" Kenny hesitated.
"It's okay," Mulder told him, "Just say it.
I'll believe you."
Scully rolled her eyes. "Even if he
shouldn't," she said.
Mulder shot her a warning look. "Go ahead,"
he said again.
"Well, I don't know if ya'll believe in that
kinda stuff," he bit his lower lip, "but I
sorta thought that maybe they might be
U.F.O.'s?"
"In my experience," Mulder told him, "it's
never a good idea to rule out any theory,
however remote it may seem." He continued
walking out into the fields, parallel to the
path of the fence. Once he was out about
two-hundred yards, he turned around and
brushed his hand along the top of it.
"He's kind of an odd-bird, isn't he?" Kenny
asked, jerking his neck in Mulder's direction.
"Some might even say spooky," Scully replied,
and then called to him, "Train is leaving,
Mulder, with or without you."
He gazed at the fence for a little while
longer and then turned and slowly proceeded
back towards the truck. He was greeted by
Scully who was opening the passenger door.
"After you, Mulder," she told him.
Davey Crockett Motor Court
Marfa, Texas
4:12 P.M.
After filling Mulder's tank and telling him
that the tow-fee would be "free of charge,"
Kenny waved to the agent and drove deeper into
town. Mulder turned around and walked into
the motel that would serve as his room for the
night. Scully was already setting up her
laptop and her personal belongings on the
dresser by the wall.
"This one's mine, Mulder," she told him as he
entered the room. She folded her jacket
neatly into a drawer. "Yours is next door."
"You know, Scully," he told her, "if you're
really so worried about charging money to the
Bureau, we could think of alternative ways to
save some cash." He grinned broadly, his
hazel eyes sparkling with mischief. "You up
for a sleep over?"
"I think you might ask yourself the same
question, Mulder," she responded wryly. She
unpacked her hairbrush and gestured to the
adjoining room. "Yours is next door."
"Well, don't get too comfortable, Scully," he
said resolutely, "We've got to leave in an
hour."
"What do you mean we've got to leave,
Mulder?" she asked, "We just arrived here in
the middle of bumble. What motivation could
you possible have for leaving?"
"One hour, Scully. We don't want to miss the
sunset. I hear it's beautiful in Texas this
time of year."
US Highway 90
9:27 P.M.
Mulder thumbed his fingers anxiously against
the steering wheel as Scully leaned against
the passenger's door, her hand to her temple.
She sighed deeply, hoping Mulder would note
her obvious irritation. He glanced at her
briefly, then reached into his pocket and
produced a bag of David's Sunflower Seeds.
He popped a few in his mouth and replaced the
bag as Scully sighed for a second time. He
glanced at her again.
"How you holdin' up over there, Scully?"
"Well, aside from the fact that I am sweaty,
sleep-deprived, and still have the odor of
an overweight tow-truck driver clinging to
my clothes, I'm perfectly fine, Mulder."
She turned towards him and replied blandly
in an overtly condescending tone, "How are
you?"
Mulder grimaced. "Do I detect a note of
sarcasm, Agent Scully?" he asked.
"It's nice to see the months of Bureau
training weren't lost on you, Agent Mulder."
She ran her fingers absent-mindedly through
her glistening hair. After a rather lengthy
silence, she folded her hands and finally
asked, "Mulder, what are we doing here?"
"We're enjoying the serenity of a peaceful
Texas night," he answered, fixing his gaze
towards the open field and the white fence.
"No, Mulder," she said, "you might be, but
I'm not. There is nothing about this
rink-a-dink town that I enjoy. There is no
good reason why we should even be here. If
Kersh finds out that we neglected our
casework…"
"C'mon, Scully, stop playing off the 'good
Catholic school girl' image. Be a little
adventurous, for once in your life. Kersh
will never know. Besides, if by some act
of God he manages to actually find out, we
can simply tell him the truth."
"That being?" She arched her eyebrow as
she braced for the answer.
"That we had car problems on the way to
San Antonio and a case of greater magnitude
presented itself."
"A case of greater magnitude?" Scully
inhaled deeply and rolled her cerulean eyes.
"Mulder, there is no case here. Just the
ravings of some backwater hick who's seen
one-too-many George Lucas movies."
Mulder's feigned a look of mock dismay.
"Now, Scully," he said, "didn't your mother
ever teach you about the evils of
stereotyping?"
"Actually, Mulder," she replied, "It's a
proven fact that the good majority of
stereotypes are usually true. For instance,
when I first met you, I formed the opinion
that your 'dungeon' in the basement was a
metaphor for how you chose to live your life
- solitary, brooding, self-inflicted
confinement. You presented yourself as a
troubled man whose desire to seek out the
truth was almost as obsessive and torturous
as a salmon's need to swim upstream."
"But then you got to know me," he added,
"the true me. And you couldn't help
yourself, right? Scully? Are you listening
to me?"
Scully wasn't listening. Instead, she was
staring out the front window, eyes wide and
mouth agape. Directly ahead, floating
parallel to the fence were five bright
lights in triangular formation.
Mulder's face became instantly solemn.
"Looks like we're going to get our money's
worth from this trip after all…".
He flung open the driver's side door without
a moment's hesitation and went running out
into the night. Scully followed in suit, and
soon the two were standing in the middle of
the field where Mulder had been standing
earlier that day. The lights climbed into
the moonless night, higher and higher. Then,
suddenly, they swept down, coming to rest
directly above the guardrail of the fence.
As Mulder advanced, the lights grew dimmer
and dimmer, until they disappeared into the
temperate night. He halted where he saw the
lights depart and Scully was soon standing at
his side.
"Mulder?" she asked, "Where'd they go?"
He glanced down over at her.
"They just vanished, Scully," he answered.
Now his gaze was elsewhere. "Look at that,"
he said, motioning his head in the direction
of the fence. She turned as he brushed past
her.
"What is that, Mulder?" she asked him. He
was sweeping his hand over the top of the
wood as she had seen him do from afar in the
morning light. She pulled out her flashlight
and shone the bright beam on the fence for
further examination. As she stepped closer,
she could see the black streaks which should
have been white.
"It looks like it's been charred," she told him.
"That's how it looked this morning, too," he
responded, "just not nearly to the extent that
it is now." He rolled some ashes between
pointer finger and thumb. "I think we should
get this sample analyzed," he said, "determine
its chemical composition."
"For what, Mulder?" Scully questioned, "What
are we looking for? I still don't even know
why we're here."
She could she Mulder's scowl of disapproval
in the dim light. She sighed in response,
walked forward, and placed some of the charred
fence remains securely in her pocket. Stepping
back, she wrinkled her nose as a fresh odor
danced over her nostrils.
"Do you smell that?" she asked.
Mulder raised his arm and sniffed his shirt.
He shot her a sheepish look and shrug his
shoulders.
"Not you, Mulder," she replied, "It smells
like…" She wrinkled her nose and took a deep
whiff.
"Teen spirit?" he finished for her.
"No," she said, tight-lipped, "It smells
like…" She pointed the flashlight in the
direction of the pleasant-smelling aroma.
Scully's mouth dropped open as the beam
illuminated the subject of the smell.
"It's a dead cow," she informed him. It was,
indeed. By the glare of the small flashlight,
she could see what had formerly been a rather
large Holstein. It was now blackened beyond
recognition.
"Looks like leftovers for weeks, Scully," he
said stoically. As the words came out of his
mouth, the sound of a car engine came roaring
through the plateau. Mulder and Scully
immediately turned towards the sound but by
the time Scully shone the flashlight in the
car's direction, all that could be seen was
the outline of a truck with a dark bumper.
"Who do you think that was?" Scully asked.
"Better question," Mulder answered, "is what
do you think he was hiding?"
Davey Crockett Motor Court
Marfa, Texas
9:49 P.M.
Scully unlocked the door to her room, pushed
it aside, and folded her coat carefully on the
bed, being sure not to lose any of the precious
ash that she had collected at the field. She
kicked off her shoes, unbuttoned the top
buttons on her blouse, and advanced into the
bathroom to clean her face after the night's
excursions. She turned on the water, cupped
her hands beneath the faucet, and splashed the
cool stream over her face. She reached for a
towel as a knock came at the door.
"It's open," she called as she dried her face
and replaced the towel on the hook by the
mirror.
"Hey, Scully, it's me," she heard Mulder call
from the other room. She took one last look
at herself in the mirror, pulled her hair
behind her ear, and walked towards the sound
of his voice.
"What's going on, Mulder?" she asked.
He took one look at her, shirt partially
unbuttoned and pulled out from her slacks,
hair disheveled, slightly shiny from the sweat
of their impromptu workout.
"Geez, Scully," he said blandly, lips thin and
unquivering, "you didn't have to get all
dressed up for me."
She cocked her head to the side, a scowl
encompassing her regal features, and placed a
hand to her hip. "Is there something you
wanted?" she asked.
"Scully," he shook his head in mock disdain,
"didn't anyone ever tell you that you shouldn't
bite the hand that feeds you?"
She noticed the brown paper bag in his hand for
the first time as he raised it to her eye level.
"That's right," he said, shaking it back and
forth, "I brought sandwiches."
"Ohh," Scully moaned, her stomach ached with the
pangs of hunger. She hadn't realized just how
complete her starvation was until that moment.
She bit her lip and then waved him in. "Well,"
she asked him, "what are you waiting for?"
Mulder walked into the room and seated himself
on the bed, pushing aside her jacket. He placed
the bag on the bed and pulled the
cellophane-wrapped packages from their container.
Scully sat beside him and anxiously grabbed for
one of the sandwiches, unwrapping it.
"I don't suppose you have anything to drink in
there, do you?" she asked through greedy
mouthfuls of the food.
Mulder produced a Diet Coke from the bag and
pointed to the can.
"Just for the taste of it," he told her.
She smiled gratefully, placing the sandwich
in its bag and popping the can open with
well-manicured fingernails.
"So, Mulder," she asked through gulps, "what
do you think is going on here?"
"You mean besides the late-night barbeques?"
he responded blithely, raising his own soda
to his mouth. She detected the faint hint
of a smirk on his lips.
"Yeah, besides that."
"Well," he began, "I must admit that I
didn't find here exactly what I was looking
for." He took another swig for suspense and
then continued. "At first, I believed that
the lights corresponded to some landing site
for a craft of extraterrestrial origin. You
should be well aware by now, Scully, that the
southwestern United States is a hotbed for
U.F.O. activity."
His diatribe was momentarily interrupted by
the sound of a large belch that seemed far
too vast to have had its origin in Scully's
small frame.
"Excuse me," she said, cheeks showing the
smallest signs of reddening.
Mulder raised his eyebrows, his face
expressing disbelief.
"How lady-like," he said drolly, "It's
amazing that no one's snatched you up yet."
"At least I don't have to dial nine-hundred
numbers to have a good time," she responded
in similar fashion.
He shot her a look of extreme distaste.
"May I continue?" he asked.
"Please," she replied, "don't let me
interrupt you."
She positioned herself against the headboard
and waited politely for the other shoe to drop.
"As I was saying," Mulder stated, "I believed
that the lights had some connection to
extraterrestrial craft. The majority of
well-documented close encounters often
describes lights of different colors aligning
in a 'V' or triangular shape. The method in
which the tow-truck worker described their
parallel movement also suggested to me the
movement of reported alien crafts."
"But now you don't believe that's what we
witnessed?" she asked incredulously, "I must
say, Mulder, I'm a little out of my element
here. If not alien crafts, what do you
believe caused the lights that we saw? And
what about the cremation of the cow? How do
you explain it?"
"I didn't recall it until I saw the burning
tonight," he said, "There is an X-File that
dates back to 1957, only a decade after the
first reported U.F.O. sighting in Roswell.
A cattle-rancher was riding out on horseback,
checking up on his animals before an
approaching thunderstorm, when he observed
red, yellow, and white balls of light dancing
across the night sky. They fell to about
three meters off the earth, where they
remained stationary for about a minute,
before disappearing into the night. He
recorded a loud bang as the lights departed,
and a lingering, rancid odor."
He paused to take a breath before beginning
again.
"That was not the first recorded sighting,
however. Ancient Greeks and various populations
throughout the Middle Ages have reported seeing
balls of light moving across the sky. Sailors
have reported similar phenomena, designating it
by the name 'St. Elmo's Fire.' Other cases have
been described by such terms as 'swamp gas,'
'static electricity,' and 'ghost lights.'
Theories as to its origin abound, from
electromagnetic energy being conducted through
elements in the earth, to radiation signals from
extraterrestrial aircraft."
Scully smiled warmly.
"So this is another U.F.O. chase after all, then?"
He returned the smile.
"Not exactly. I believe that I said that some
people purport that the lights are the result of
alien craft."
"But you don't believe that is the case."
He was grinning ear-to-ear.
"I want to believe."
"I'm having a little trouble reading between the
lines, Mulder," Scully informed him, discarding
the empty cellophane on the table beside her bed,
"Why don't you just spell it out for me?"
"I-T-O-U-T-F-O-R-M-E."
"I meant tell me what you think, smart ass."
"What I think," Mulder smirked, "is that I won't
be sure what we're dealing with until you get me
those lab results on our little sample." He stood
up and patted her coat pocket with seeming love and
affection, then turned and walked towards the door.
"And what are you hoping to gather from that?" she
called after him.
He turned back to face her, one hand on the doorknob.
"Just get me the results, Scully," he answered. He
opened the door and walked out into the moonless
night.
Scully stood up and after him. Bracing herself with
one hand on either side of the door frame, she called
to him from the threshold, "What about the cow, Mulder?"
She heard only a voice call back, "The results, Scully."
Author: Flyerfly
Rating: R (language and some sexual innuendo)
Category: MSR/UST
Time Frame: Early S6, somewhere around Drive.
Summary: Mulder, restless after being sent on
another dead-end assignment, decides to take
matters into his own hands and sets out in
search of an X-File.
Disclaimer: None of the regulars are mine.
Those that aren't, are. But I don't care,
C.C.. If you want them, you can have them.
I'm not picky.
*roll the credits*
Interstate 30W
9:45 A.M.
"Mulder, did you hear what I said?" Dana
Scully's voice sounded strangely muffled from
behind the unfolded map in her hands. The
only signs of her presence were the intense
red hairs that emanated from atop the papers
that dominated the passenger's side.
"Mmm?" Mulder purred. Scully could tell he
was deep in thought. Both of his hands were
planted firmly on the steering wheel and his
body frame was tight and severe. His gaze was
steady, staring out through the windshield,
and his gray-green eyes were alight with that
intense excitement that always shone when he
was in the midst of an investigation. Why was
a matter of some debate, however. Scully,
herself, could not see anything remotely
interesting about being dragged off to inspect
yet another supposed American-made terrorist
attack. Ever since she and Mulder had been
reassigned, they had been sifting through one
big pile of shit after another. With the
X-Files closed, she wondered if there
was any reason at all to stay in the Bureau.
It would be a hell of a lot easier to turn over
her badge. They had been trying to get rid of
them for years now. The terrorism work was
absolutely punishment for their "insolence," of
that she was sure. Sometimes it really wasn't
worth it. She lowered the map and peered
closely at his strong, handsome features,
evidence of the strength he carried within
himself. Other times…
"I said that the exit towards San Antonio was
back there towards the right," she folded the
map and replaced it in the dashboard, "It's
probably about a mile back now."
Mulder smiled thoughtfully and took his eyes
off of the stretch of thousands of straight,
empty road in front of him. "I thought we'd
take the scenic route, Scully," he said, and
turned once more towards the highway, but not
before Scully caught the playful gleam twinkle
in his eyes.
"Mulder," she reminded him, "we don't have time
for the scenic route. We have to go investigate
this potential terrorist. Kersh has been looking
for any excuse to give us our walking papers, we
can't give him any incentive. Side trips are
just not in the itinerary."
"Scully," Mulder reproached, "aren't you getting
tired of sifting through feces? Just because Mrs.
Kelly Horst in San Antonio purchases a large
amount of fertilizer to facilitate the growth of
her tree farm, it doesn't mean that she is
necessarily about to generate the next Oklahoma
City." He glanced at her, a boyish smirk apparent
on his lips. "Besides," he said, "If there's a
load of shit to dig up in these contiguous
forty-eight states, then I'm pretty sure that most
of the shoveling is occurring in the vicinity of
Washington, D.C., not Texas."
"Mulder…" she started, but he interrupted her with
a wave of his hand.
"Listen, Scully, we will absolutely, positively
check out the sadistic tree farmer on the way back,
okay? If not because it is our job, but simply to
assuage any fear or concern that you might carry
for the welfare of our fine nation."
"On the way back?" she questioned, "Mulder, Kersh
is not going to be happy."
"Don't you think that he'd be more concerned about
the monetary expenditure required in finding the
next exit miles down the line, turning the vehicle
around, traveling back, and then heading off to
San Antonio? I'm sure that he would agree that
the most positive course of action would be to
take a short cut."
"Mulder," she huffed, cheeks reddening with a
mixture of contention and ire, "these roads are
completely straight. There are no shortcuts."
"Scully, you'll never get to the top of the F.B.I.
hierarchy with that attitude."
Scully folded her arms across her chest and sat
back in petulant, silent, defiance as Mulder
hummed aloud to the car radio.
US Highway 90
12:49 P.M.
Scully's arms were still folded when Mulder
directed the silver Ford Taurus off the side of
the road as it puttered away its dying breath and
came to a sickly stop. Taking his right hand off
the steering wheel, he paused long enough to look
at his partner and command her, "Don't say a
word." Then, he unbuckled his belt, opened the
door, and swiftly jumped to his feet, happily
stretching his aching muscles after having sat
stationary for so long. As he plucked his cell
phone from his pants pocket, he thought he heard
her say something to the effect of, "Nice
shortcut." Choosing not to grace her comment
with a response, he turned around, phone to his
ear, and gave her a stern look of disapproval.
"Triple A, how can I help you?"
"Hello. My name is Fox Mulder and I need some
assistance. My car has broken down on US 90. I
am located about 26 miles away from Alpine, Texas.
Could you send someone out to pick me up?"
"As soon as we possibly can, sir," the
cheery-little-teenaged-operator chirped, "At the
moment we have no one available on staff. I can
have someone out in an hour or two."
Mulder sighed to himself. His hazel eyes
glistened as he contrived a plan. "Okay," he
responded sweetly, "that's fine." He paused and
then said, seemingly as an afterthought, "Oh, did
I give you my name? It's Special Agent Fox
Mulder," making sure to emphasize the "Special
Agent."
"Yes you did, sir," she answered, just as
innocently, "It'll be an hour or two."
"Thank you," he replied despondently. He turned
the phone off and placed it back in his pocket.
"Dumb bitch," he muttered as he walked back to
the car, head facing the dirt and hands in his
pockets. He glanced up, trying desperately not
to meet the gaze of the woman with the hair as
fiery as the gleam in her eyes.
He opened the door and sat down, grabbing for the
handle to push the seat back into a reclining
position. He closed his eyes and placed his hands
behind his head. "Don't say a word."
2:42 P.M.
"How did ya'll manage to find yourselves out here
by your lonesome?" The cute woman with the long
blonde hair smiled through ruby-red lips. Mulder
was seated in the passenger's side of the
tow-truck, grinning ear-to-ear.
"I'm not alone now," he thought devilishly.
"Well," he said, looking at the name on her
standard-issue uniform, "Amber Lynn, I was out
here working on a case for the government but I
misjudged the distance from the road to the next
rest-stop, and I guess I just ran out of gas."
He shrugged his shoulders, still grinning.
"Ya'll work for the federal gov'ment?" she asked,
astonished, "Whatta you do?"
"I work for the Federal Bureau of Investigation,"
he beamed, "Wanna see my badge?" He pulled the
identification from his jacket and displayed his
picture proudly.
"Fox?" she said, "Your name is Fox?"
He winced and nodded his head in affirmation.
"Well," she said seductively, gazing into his
eyes, "the name certainly fits."
He was beaming with masculinity.
"Maybe you could show me what there is to do
around here for a little excitement," he cooed.
"Do you wanna know what I like to do for
excitement?" she asked.
Mulder leaned in closer, but instead of
sweet-nothings, all he received was an earful of
hard knocks…literally. Mulder's body engaged in
a full-body heave as he awoke from an
uncomfortable sleep. The knocking came again,
and Mulder, startled, beat his head unwittingly
against the door.
"Ow." He rubbed his head and opened his groggy
eyes, adjusting them slowly to the intense light
of day. Scully appeared first through his
blurred vision, lying asleep in the passenger's
side. He cracked his neck and looked towards the
left, towards the direction from which the sounds
were coming.
"Amber Lynn?"
He gazed out through the open window. Instead of
a slender, beautiful, woman, his gaze was met by
that of a heavy-set, middle-aged man glancing
into the car.
"Did somebody call for some roadside assistance?"
3:08 P.M.
"I guess that does it." Kenny, a
balding, middle-aged Triple A worker jumped,
albeit a little-awkwardly, to his feet after
securing the last connection from the tow-truck
to Mulder's rented Taurus. He hiked up his pants,
covering the "handyman's crack" that had made an
appearance when he crouched down. He dusted off
his hands, informing the pair that, "We're all set
to go."
As Kenny climbed into the driver's seat, Mulder
opened the passenger's door with his right hand
and extended his left in a gesture of admittance.
"After you, Scully."
Scully glared at him as she climbed into the
stuffy three-seater truck. Mulder followed suit,
and soon the three were driving at a far-too
leisurely pace down the highway.
"So where ya'll from?" Kenny asked in a comedic
southern accent that Mulder thought seemed
slightly reminiscent of the buck-toothed vampire
that held Scully's amorous affection.
"Washington," Scully answered abruptly, putting
a fist to her nose in an attempt to stifle the
smell of sweat and grime that emanated from the
auto-man's body.
"Ah, Washington," Kenny responded dreamily,
spitting a wad of tobacco out the window,
"Beautiful state. Lovely place for a couple
to settle down."
"We're not together," Scully said insistently.
"Is that a fact?" Kenny asked, arching his
eyebrows and smiling widely.
"Oh for Christ's sake," Scully moaned under her
breath. Her hand moved to her forehead as she
turned and glared at Mulder. "I'm going to get
you for this," she mouthed to him. He shrugged
his shoulders in response.
"Washington, D.C.," Mulder explained.
"What's that now?" Kenny asked.
"We're from Washington, D.C.," Mulder repeated,
"We're partners at the Federal Bureau of
Investigation."
"Sure 'nuf?" Kenny asked, surprised at
encountering federal agents all the way off
the beaten path, "I always wanted to be in the
F.B.I. when I was a littlin. So what are ya'll
doing out here? Investigatin'? Can I see your
badge?"
"We took a short cut," Scully told him bluntly.
Mulder shot her a look of reproach, and pulled
out his identification. "We're investigating a
potential terrorist threat," Mulder answered.
"Oh," Kenny said simply, gazing in awe at
Mulder's picture. This was followed by an
awkward silence.
"Kenny," Scully finally said after some period
of time, "do you think you could turn on the
air-conditioning? It's a little stifling?" In
reality, it wasn't the heat so much that
bothered her, but the effect it had on Kenny's
odor that was truly upsetting her.
"Sorry, ma'am," he said, "but my
air-conditionin' has been on the fritz ever
since those lights done come to town."
"Fabulous," Scully replied under her breath,
once again placing her hand to her nose.
"Lights?" Mulder asked, his interest piqued,
"What lights?"
"Well, it's the damndest thing…," Kenny started,
and then said, "Nah, I can't tell you. You
wouldn't believe me anyway."
"No, no, go ahead," Mulder said, leaning forward,
"You'd be surprised what I'd believe."
"Okay, well, here goes." He adjusted his uniform,
feeling important in such prestigious company.
"A couple of nights ago, I was drivin' out on this
very highway, fixin' to pick up some guy with a
flat tire. About five miles out, I see these
lights in the sky -white, blue, and orange- just
dancin' around like a fox in a henhouse."
Mulder urged him forward as Scully chuckled at
Kenny's unknowing faux pas.
"Well, my radio starts goin' all haywire and
then all the power in the car goes completely
dead. I keep watchin' the lights and they sorta
stop in mid-flight. Then they start up again and
hear this weird sound, like 'BAM!'. And then
quick as a flash, they were gone. My truck
finally started up a couple of minutes later. I
went and made my pickup and then went back home.
Ever since then, my radio and my air-conditionin'
hasn't worked."
Mulder sat back in deep thought. "Where did you
see the lights?" he finally asked.
"Back in the other direction, maybe about two
miles outside of Marfa."
"Turn around," Mulder commanded, "I want you to
show me where you saw the lights."
"But it's in the other direction, sir," Kenny
informed him, "We'd be goin' in a direction
opposite my shop."
"Turn around," Mulder repeated.
"Okay," Kenny agreed, as he proceeded to turn
the car around.
"What was that about monetary expenditure?"
Scully asked.
Mulder leaned in close to Scully. "Hey,
Scully," he whispered in her ear, "you smell
bad."
3:58 P.M.
"This is it." Kenny pulled the tow-truck off
to the side of the road. It came to rest
before a small hill that overlooked miles of
flat land in every direction. There were a
few trees and a long, white fence, but other
than that, it was grass as far as the eye
could see.
"That's where I saw them," Kenny explained,
pointing to the area immediately above the
fence.
"Why don't we get a closer look?" Scully said,
throwing the passenger door open and pushing
Mulder out into the road.
"Good idea, Scully," he muttered as she closed
the door and stepped over him. Mulder stood
up and dusted the dirt off of his pants. He
followed after Scully, who had her hands on
her hips and was enjoying stretching her stiff
legs.
"Well," she said, turning around to face him,
"I don't see anything out of the ordinary."
"Maybe you're not looking hard enough," Mulder
replied, brushing past her and walking farther
out towards the edge of the fence.
"They kinda skittered along the posts, there,"
Kenny told them, "sorta like this." He made a
gesture parallel to the fence. "Then they
stopped and were gone."
"What do you think the objects were?" Mulder
asked him.
"Well…umm…" Kenny hesitated.
"It's okay," Mulder told him, "Just say it.
I'll believe you."
Scully rolled her eyes. "Even if he
shouldn't," she said.
Mulder shot her a warning look. "Go ahead,"
he said again.
"Well, I don't know if ya'll believe in that
kinda stuff," he bit his lower lip, "but I
sorta thought that maybe they might be
U.F.O.'s?"
"In my experience," Mulder told him, "it's
never a good idea to rule out any theory,
however remote it may seem." He continued
walking out into the fields, parallel to the
path of the fence. Once he was out about
two-hundred yards, he turned around and
brushed his hand along the top of it.
"He's kind of an odd-bird, isn't he?" Kenny
asked, jerking his neck in Mulder's direction.
"Some might even say spooky," Scully replied,
and then called to him, "Train is leaving,
Mulder, with or without you."
He gazed at the fence for a little while
longer and then turned and slowly proceeded
back towards the truck. He was greeted by
Scully who was opening the passenger door.
"After you, Mulder," she told him.
Davey Crockett Motor Court
Marfa, Texas
4:12 P.M.
After filling Mulder's tank and telling him
that the tow-fee would be "free of charge,"
Kenny waved to the agent and drove deeper into
town. Mulder turned around and walked into
the motel that would serve as his room for the
night. Scully was already setting up her
laptop and her personal belongings on the
dresser by the wall.
"This one's mine, Mulder," she told him as he
entered the room. She folded her jacket
neatly into a drawer. "Yours is next door."
"You know, Scully," he told her, "if you're
really so worried about charging money to the
Bureau, we could think of alternative ways to
save some cash." He grinned broadly, his
hazel eyes sparkling with mischief. "You up
for a sleep over?"
"I think you might ask yourself the same
question, Mulder," she responded wryly. She
unpacked her hairbrush and gestured to the
adjoining room. "Yours is next door."
"Well, don't get too comfortable, Scully," he
said resolutely, "We've got to leave in an
hour."
"What do you mean we've got to leave,
Mulder?" she asked, "We just arrived here in
the middle of bumble. What motivation could
you possible have for leaving?"
"One hour, Scully. We don't want to miss the
sunset. I hear it's beautiful in Texas this
time of year."
US Highway 90
9:27 P.M.
Mulder thumbed his fingers anxiously against
the steering wheel as Scully leaned against
the passenger's door, her hand to her temple.
She sighed deeply, hoping Mulder would note
her obvious irritation. He glanced at her
briefly, then reached into his pocket and
produced a bag of David's Sunflower Seeds.
He popped a few in his mouth and replaced the
bag as Scully sighed for a second time. He
glanced at her again.
"How you holdin' up over there, Scully?"
"Well, aside from the fact that I am sweaty,
sleep-deprived, and still have the odor of
an overweight tow-truck driver clinging to
my clothes, I'm perfectly fine, Mulder."
She turned towards him and replied blandly
in an overtly condescending tone, "How are
you?"
Mulder grimaced. "Do I detect a note of
sarcasm, Agent Scully?" he asked.
"It's nice to see the months of Bureau
training weren't lost on you, Agent Mulder."
She ran her fingers absent-mindedly through
her glistening hair. After a rather lengthy
silence, she folded her hands and finally
asked, "Mulder, what are we doing here?"
"We're enjoying the serenity of a peaceful
Texas night," he answered, fixing his gaze
towards the open field and the white fence.
"No, Mulder," she said, "you might be, but
I'm not. There is nothing about this
rink-a-dink town that I enjoy. There is no
good reason why we should even be here. If
Kersh finds out that we neglected our
casework…"
"C'mon, Scully, stop playing off the 'good
Catholic school girl' image. Be a little
adventurous, for once in your life. Kersh
will never know. Besides, if by some act
of God he manages to actually find out, we
can simply tell him the truth."
"That being?" She arched her eyebrow as
she braced for the answer.
"That we had car problems on the way to
San Antonio and a case of greater magnitude
presented itself."
"A case of greater magnitude?" Scully
inhaled deeply and rolled her cerulean eyes.
"Mulder, there is no case here. Just the
ravings of some backwater hick who's seen
one-too-many George Lucas movies."
Mulder's feigned a look of mock dismay.
"Now, Scully," he said, "didn't your mother
ever teach you about the evils of
stereotyping?"
"Actually, Mulder," she replied, "It's a
proven fact that the good majority of
stereotypes are usually true. For instance,
when I first met you, I formed the opinion
that your 'dungeon' in the basement was a
metaphor for how you chose to live your life
- solitary, brooding, self-inflicted
confinement. You presented yourself as a
troubled man whose desire to seek out the
truth was almost as obsessive and torturous
as a salmon's need to swim upstream."
"But then you got to know me," he added,
"the true me. And you couldn't help
yourself, right? Scully? Are you listening
to me?"
Scully wasn't listening. Instead, she was
staring out the front window, eyes wide and
mouth agape. Directly ahead, floating
parallel to the fence were five bright
lights in triangular formation.
Mulder's face became instantly solemn.
"Looks like we're going to get our money's
worth from this trip after all…".
He flung open the driver's side door without
a moment's hesitation and went running out
into the night. Scully followed in suit, and
soon the two were standing in the middle of
the field where Mulder had been standing
earlier that day. The lights climbed into
the moonless night, higher and higher. Then,
suddenly, they swept down, coming to rest
directly above the guardrail of the fence.
As Mulder advanced, the lights grew dimmer
and dimmer, until they disappeared into the
temperate night. He halted where he saw the
lights depart and Scully was soon standing at
his side.
"Mulder?" she asked, "Where'd they go?"
He glanced down over at her.
"They just vanished, Scully," he answered.
Now his gaze was elsewhere. "Look at that,"
he said, motioning his head in the direction
of the fence. She turned as he brushed past
her.
"What is that, Mulder?" she asked him. He
was sweeping his hand over the top of the
wood as she had seen him do from afar in the
morning light. She pulled out her flashlight
and shone the bright beam on the fence for
further examination. As she stepped closer,
she could see the black streaks which should
have been white.
"It looks like it's been charred," she told him.
"That's how it looked this morning, too," he
responded, "just not nearly to the extent that
it is now." He rolled some ashes between
pointer finger and thumb. "I think we should
get this sample analyzed," he said, "determine
its chemical composition."
"For what, Mulder?" Scully questioned, "What
are we looking for? I still don't even know
why we're here."
She could she Mulder's scowl of disapproval
in the dim light. She sighed in response,
walked forward, and placed some of the charred
fence remains securely in her pocket. Stepping
back, she wrinkled her nose as a fresh odor
danced over her nostrils.
"Do you smell that?" she asked.
Mulder raised his arm and sniffed his shirt.
He shot her a sheepish look and shrug his
shoulders.
"Not you, Mulder," she replied, "It smells
like…" She wrinkled her nose and took a deep
whiff.
"Teen spirit?" he finished for her.
"No," she said, tight-lipped, "It smells
like…" She pointed the flashlight in the
direction of the pleasant-smelling aroma.
Scully's mouth dropped open as the beam
illuminated the subject of the smell.
"It's a dead cow," she informed him. It was,
indeed. By the glare of the small flashlight,
she could see what had formerly been a rather
large Holstein. It was now blackened beyond
recognition.
"Looks like leftovers for weeks, Scully," he
said stoically. As the words came out of his
mouth, the sound of a car engine came roaring
through the plateau. Mulder and Scully
immediately turned towards the sound but by
the time Scully shone the flashlight in the
car's direction, all that could be seen was
the outline of a truck with a dark bumper.
"Who do you think that was?" Scully asked.
"Better question," Mulder answered, "is what
do you think he was hiding?"
Davey Crockett Motor Court
Marfa, Texas
9:49 P.M.
Scully unlocked the door to her room, pushed
it aside, and folded her coat carefully on the
bed, being sure not to lose any of the precious
ash that she had collected at the field. She
kicked off her shoes, unbuttoned the top
buttons on her blouse, and advanced into the
bathroom to clean her face after the night's
excursions. She turned on the water, cupped
her hands beneath the faucet, and splashed the
cool stream over her face. She reached for a
towel as a knock came at the door.
"It's open," she called as she dried her face
and replaced the towel on the hook by the
mirror.
"Hey, Scully, it's me," she heard Mulder call
from the other room. She took one last look
at herself in the mirror, pulled her hair
behind her ear, and walked towards the sound
of his voice.
"What's going on, Mulder?" she asked.
He took one look at her, shirt partially
unbuttoned and pulled out from her slacks,
hair disheveled, slightly shiny from the sweat
of their impromptu workout.
"Geez, Scully," he said blandly, lips thin and
unquivering, "you didn't have to get all
dressed up for me."
She cocked her head to the side, a scowl
encompassing her regal features, and placed a
hand to her hip. "Is there something you
wanted?" she asked.
"Scully," he shook his head in mock disdain,
"didn't anyone ever tell you that you shouldn't
bite the hand that feeds you?"
She noticed the brown paper bag in his hand for
the first time as he raised it to her eye level.
"That's right," he said, shaking it back and
forth, "I brought sandwiches."
"Ohh," Scully moaned, her stomach ached with the
pangs of hunger. She hadn't realized just how
complete her starvation was until that moment.
She bit her lip and then waved him in. "Well,"
she asked him, "what are you waiting for?"
Mulder walked into the room and seated himself
on the bed, pushing aside her jacket. He placed
the bag on the bed and pulled the
cellophane-wrapped packages from their container.
Scully sat beside him and anxiously grabbed for
one of the sandwiches, unwrapping it.
"I don't suppose you have anything to drink in
there, do you?" she asked through greedy
mouthfuls of the food.
Mulder produced a Diet Coke from the bag and
pointed to the can.
"Just for the taste of it," he told her.
She smiled gratefully, placing the sandwich
in its bag and popping the can open with
well-manicured fingernails.
"So, Mulder," she asked through gulps, "what
do you think is going on here?"
"You mean besides the late-night barbeques?"
he responded blithely, raising his own soda
to his mouth. She detected the faint hint
of a smirk on his lips.
"Yeah, besides that."
"Well," he began, "I must admit that I
didn't find here exactly what I was looking
for." He took another swig for suspense and
then continued. "At first, I believed that
the lights corresponded to some landing site
for a craft of extraterrestrial origin. You
should be well aware by now, Scully, that the
southwestern United States is a hotbed for
U.F.O. activity."
His diatribe was momentarily interrupted by
the sound of a large belch that seemed far
too vast to have had its origin in Scully's
small frame.
"Excuse me," she said, cheeks showing the
smallest signs of reddening.
Mulder raised his eyebrows, his face
expressing disbelief.
"How lady-like," he said drolly, "It's
amazing that no one's snatched you up yet."
"At least I don't have to dial nine-hundred
numbers to have a good time," she responded
in similar fashion.
He shot her a look of extreme distaste.
"May I continue?" he asked.
"Please," she replied, "don't let me
interrupt you."
She positioned herself against the headboard
and waited politely for the other shoe to drop.
"As I was saying," Mulder stated, "I believed
that the lights had some connection to
extraterrestrial craft. The majority of
well-documented close encounters often
describes lights of different colors aligning
in a 'V' or triangular shape. The method in
which the tow-truck worker described their
parallel movement also suggested to me the
movement of reported alien crafts."
"But now you don't believe that's what we
witnessed?" she asked incredulously, "I must
say, Mulder, I'm a little out of my element
here. If not alien crafts, what do you
believe caused the lights that we saw? And
what about the cremation of the cow? How do
you explain it?"
"I didn't recall it until I saw the burning
tonight," he said, "There is an X-File that
dates back to 1957, only a decade after the
first reported U.F.O. sighting in Roswell.
A cattle-rancher was riding out on horseback,
checking up on his animals before an
approaching thunderstorm, when he observed
red, yellow, and white balls of light dancing
across the night sky. They fell to about
three meters off the earth, where they
remained stationary for about a minute,
before disappearing into the night. He
recorded a loud bang as the lights departed,
and a lingering, rancid odor."
He paused to take a breath before beginning
again.
"That was not the first recorded sighting,
however. Ancient Greeks and various populations
throughout the Middle Ages have reported seeing
balls of light moving across the sky. Sailors
have reported similar phenomena, designating it
by the name 'St. Elmo's Fire.' Other cases have
been described by such terms as 'swamp gas,'
'static electricity,' and 'ghost lights.'
Theories as to its origin abound, from
electromagnetic energy being conducted through
elements in the earth, to radiation signals from
extraterrestrial aircraft."
Scully smiled warmly.
"So this is another U.F.O. chase after all, then?"
He returned the smile.
"Not exactly. I believe that I said that some
people purport that the lights are the result of
alien craft."
"But you don't believe that is the case."
He was grinning ear-to-ear.
"I want to believe."
"I'm having a little trouble reading between the
lines, Mulder," Scully informed him, discarding
the empty cellophane on the table beside her bed,
"Why don't you just spell it out for me?"
"I-T-O-U-T-F-O-R-M-E."
"I meant tell me what you think, smart ass."
"What I think," Mulder smirked, "is that I won't
be sure what we're dealing with until you get me
those lab results on our little sample." He stood
up and patted her coat pocket with seeming love and
affection, then turned and walked towards the door.
"And what are you hoping to gather from that?" she
called after him.
He turned back to face her, one hand on the doorknob.
"Just get me the results, Scully," he answered. He
opened the door and walked out into the moonless
night.
Scully stood up and after him. Bracing herself with
one hand on either side of the door frame, she called
to him from the threshold, "What about the cow, Mulder?"
She heard only a voice call back, "The results, Scully."