Present Past
Author: ATX & Gothic Spook
E-mail: gothic_ATX@hotmail.com
Rating: PG-13 just to be safe
Key words: not to sure, depends how the story goes
Category: case file/humour/romance/friendship
Summery: Doggett on a motorbike. Reyes in some sexy clothes. Mulder in a convertible. Scully listening to strange music. Their all acting just like kids. BUt that's what the mad scientist wants.
Disclaimer: Don't belong to me. Property of CC, 1013 and FOX. Yada yada yada.
Spoilers: Everything just to be safe
Archive: Fanfiction.com. Anywhere that wants it, just let us know
Dedication: To everyone of any age

Thursday, 12:43 am
Line 42 train yard
Russell, Georgia

The air inside the abandoned boxcar was musty and stale, thick with the smell of burning chemicals and human sweat. The figure hunched over a boiling beaker of blue liquid wiped beads of perspiration off his forehead and muttered, Da** Georgia heat. He shifted his attention to the calculations written in black marker on the white board behind him. Part of the equation had been erased when he brushed his arm against it in the narrow space between the wall and the lab table.

This should be it, it better be it A hissing noise from the beaker drew his anger away from the equation and back to the blue froth bubbling over onto the table, causing some kind of chemical reaction. His stomach knotted with excitement as he took the beaker off the burner and carefully poured the contents into a silver thermos submerged in liquid nitrogen. He closed it tightly and set it inside a small safe. After locking it he moved around the cluttered lab table to his laptop. Words flashed across the screen as he swept around the mouse a bit to wake it up.

PLEASE ENTER YOUR FULL NAME AND AUTHORIZATION CODE

Barely able to contain his enthusiasm the man typed in: MAURICE IMA PLANT
J1615N12030299Z

GOOD MORNING DR. PLANT. HOW MAY I HELP YOU?

Glancing back at the white board, he typed in the equation, what was left of it and what he remembered. At the end he typed: CALCULATE PROBABILITY OF SUCCESS

The computer made the standard whirring and thinking noises as he called them and then displayed: SUCCESS PROBABILITY: 99.99%

Dr. Plant let out a whoop of joy, quite uncharacteristic for the bitter scientist he was, but at the moment he could've cared less. His fingers moved swiftly over the keyboard and typed: ACCESS ANTIDOTE1 PROGRAM AND DETERMINE VALIDITY WITH NEW SUBSTANCE

ONE MOMENT PLEASE...
VALIDITY UNKNOWN. ANTIDOTE IS NOT STABLE ENOUGH FOR TESTING.

Dr. Plant let out a grunt and looked to his right at the small envelope on the table containing the powdered form of the antidote.

Well now, we'll just have to test it out on someone. He shut down the laptop and put the antidote in his pocket, making sure it was securely closed.

The large door slid open slowly and Plant jumped to the ground before turning around and pushing it closed. He chained it shut with a padlock and tucked the key in the same pocket as the antidote. He yanked on the chain a couple times before taking off into the night, jogging slowly out of the abandoned train yard. The air was muggy that night, like every other night in July and he could hardly wait for the cold air conditioning in his old pickup truck.


The Crimson Rose Tavern
1:15am

Sturdy hiking boots crunched on gravel as they landed on the ground. A car door slammed and careful, even steps made their way to the door beneath the sign bearing a red rose outlined in red neon, flickering pathetically in the night. The door opened and the old bell attached to the top rang, unheard through the music blasting from an ancient jukebox in the corner. The smoke was nearly as thick as the atmosphere outside and Plant waved the air around his face in an attempt to clear enough away to at least see the bar clearly.

Well look who it is, Dr.' Plant, said a man at the bar mockingly. Come have a seat doc, have a beer or two.

Silently Plant walked closer to the bar and sat down next to the intoxicated man. No thanks. I'm here on business tonight.

Wha- what business-sis that? asked the man, a slight slur to his words.

I need a man who is not afraid to earn a couple thousand bucks, Plant said, glancing around the bar suspiciously for eavesdroppers.

Heh-hey, I be lookin' for some money. What do I gotta do?

Come with me. Plant got up from the bar and began walking out to his pickup. The man stood up and dug around in his pockets for a minute before calling out to the bartender, I'll pay tomorrow Phil! and teetering out of the building. He looked around through blurry vision until he saw the pickup truck's headlights piercing the darkness to the right and heading towards him.

You know, I's heard you was a scientist at some research fasi-facility an' got sacked for esperimen-experiments on hu-mans, he said as he got in and the truck raced out into the night. There's rumours goin' around.

There will always be rumours. The rest of the ride was in silence. When they finally reached their destination Plant found the man passed out in the passenger seat. No matter, he thought to himself. This makes it easier.

He got out of the car and unlocked the boxcar. The next time he came out he had a syringe filled with blue liquid and no conflict in his mind over what he was about to do.

_____________

a/n: Hey! This is ATX and Gothic Spook here. We've teamed up to write this fic together, so please read and review so we can continue! If you've got questions we have an Mel address where you can reach both of us, Gothic_ATX@hotmail.com, or you can reach us separately. Reviews are inspiring! :)