Chapter Thirteen
Central Park, New York , New York
April 9th, 2000, 8:25 a.m.
Mulder needed to clear his mind, so he jogged down to the subway station and took the train. On his way out, he began to walk briskly again. Then when he was free and clear of the traffic of the sidewalk, he broke into a free sprint.
Well, actually, he needed to think things over. Ever since the night before, things had changed again radically for him and Scully, He had opened up about his previously ambiguous relationship with Diana, and she had slept in his arms--all night. They did finish the bottle of wine, but Scully had nodded off after her final glass, and he was too tired to push her away to get the champagne. Besides, it felt nice to wake up that way--even if the other person was still asleep.
Gee, I hope she doesn't get a hangover.
Now that he had finally learned the truth about his sister's abduction and since his mother's death, there was only one real reason why he came into work every day. Scully. And he was afraid that if he did actually give up the X-Files and perhaps do something else in the FBI, he'd never see her. But were they at that point where he could actually see her outside of work? It'd be so good to take her to see a movie or maybe to a concert at Lincoln Center. It dawned on him that he didn't even know what kind of music she liked.
She never ever had any playing when she did autopsies--he'd known several pathologists that worked to either the tunes of Bach or Aerosmith. Lord, by the time Aerosmith was hugely popular, he was in high school already. I'm just glad my bones aren't cracking in their joints yet.
Things were moving quickly but yet he wished for more. No, scratch that; his mind was just fine. It was another region of his body that was wanting things to move along faster than Scully would probably allow. She's got to want this, too--her innuendoes have been getting worse than mine these days.
"Hey, aren't you Randy Andy Muldron?" a female voice called out to Mulder from behind. He stopped dead in his tracks and spun around.
"That'd be me. Who wants to know?" he gave her a roguish smile, but it disappeared as soon as her male counterpart reached her side. Mulder already knew that these were the aliens, but he decided to be courteous. They had been living on earth for at least ten years; they probably had other customs but blended into this culture inconspicuously. Well--almost inconspicuously--except for the fact that they chose to look like two well-known actors.
"I'm Angela, and this is Drew. We read all about you in Bon Appetite, and this is an honor," Angela held out her hand.
"No, I'm stunned and uh...flattered that anyone actually heard of me before. And, to meet you two is--something I've been dreaming of for years. Since when did you start dating one another?" Mulder thought the 'celebrity' approach would at first be best. "No pseudonyms are necessary with me," he whispered.
"What do you mean?" Drew wondered.
"I mean that I'm not going to start shouting out that two famous people are talking to me," Mulder replied in a stage whisper.
"Famous peop--oh. Oh, Drew, that's so sweet. And it hasn't happened for a long time. No, no, Randy Andy, you don't understand...we're not who you think we look like. We're married--and we've never acted in movies before. But we do happen to own a restaurant. That's how many people in New York know us," Angela stated proudly.
"Oh--but you look just like...-"
"We know, we know. But just to let you in on a little secret, I don't think Jodie Foster would be dating Richard Gere or any other man," Drew patted Angela on the shoulder.
"Right. So, what do you serve at your restaurant?"
"Food every now and then. Would you like to see it and have a cup of coffee while you're there?"
"Uh, well, I've been working with another critic for the past couple of months very closely-"
"Valerie Scullet, right? Don't worry, we won't ask for a review or anything. She can come later if she wants. And we don't open up until about eleven," Angela offered. "We could get to know each other. Have you had breakfast yet?"
"Well, no, actually. I just got up and started running because I needed to think," Mulder answered.
"Ugh. I need coffee before I can even move in the mornings," Drew commented. "Come on, Randy Andy. We've got the best Jamaican blend you can find--straight from Montego Bay."
"Well, okay. But I need to at least tell her where I am so she doesn't worry."
"Why don't you wait until you've had a little caffeine? There's no need to hurry," Angela grinned.
Mulder began to ponder the situation; on the one hand, he was starving and was in no mood to see Scully as she would just be waking up. On the other hand, he needed her rational mind to keep him steady in uncertain scenarios--this definitely would qualify as a confusing situation--but he did not want to refuse such a kind offer. And to do so would probably be considered rude in the world of a food critic. Ah, I'll wait to call her after my first cup of coffee.
Narcissus' Ochroid Patella, New York, New York
April 9th, 2000, 9:15 a.m.
"So you were actually planning on coming to visit us?" Angela asked Mulder as she poured their cups full of another round of coffee.
"Yes, we were thinking about doing it either today or tomorrow afternoon," Mulder said and inserted another huge piece of the bagel into his mouth.
"Well, where have you been recently?" Drew inquired.
"To name a few places, we've been to Acapella, Norma's Breakfast, and Cafe Europa."
"Oh yes, we know Edward Longhard. And who's the manager at Norma's--a Paul Rhinehart?" Mulder nodded at Angela. "Very nice men. Longhard used to manage our books, but then we caught him stealing from us. Didn't we, Drew?"
"Mmhmm. He was a good man, but sneaky as hell. Did he strike you as being flaky, Randy Andy?"
"He didn't strike me as having a real personality, so, yeah, I suppose so. You know a lot of people in the food world here, don't you?"
"Well, we have to know how to measure up to the competition," Angela shrugged.
"They say you're doing very well. You've been operating for how long, now, ten years?" Mulder interrogated Drew and spread some more cream cheese onto the other half of his bagel.
"Uh, yeah, it's been that long. September will be our ten years' anniversary, as a matter of fact. We're going to take a cruise to Alaska. Angela's been dying to see some moose."
"Just me, honey? You've been rather curious about them yourself."
"I've heard that the bald eagles live there, too. And what about hiking and/or camping? Alaska can get kind of cold at night...could make for some comfy ways to stay warm," Mulder remarked and suddenly felt embarrassed as his mind conjured up a few interesting pictures.
"I don't do camping," Angela shook her head and took another sip of her coffee. "But I love to go hiking. I'm weird, aren't I?"
"Honey, it'd probably be best not to ask questions we already know the answers to--especially insulting ones," Drew reminded her.
"So how'd you two meet?" Mulder tried to steer himself away from a domestic dispute. He had no idea what aliens did during one, but he figured out that the end result would probably not be just hurt feelings. They can be such a violent species.
"Of all the odd places, we met as a couple of extras on a film set," Drew told him. "It was an independent film, not a blockbuster. You probably wouldn't have heard of it."
"Try me. I watch a lot of weird stuff," Mulder quipped. Why did I just admit that in public?
"Would you like anything else? I have some more of that omelet left over in the skillet," Angela interjected as she arose with her own plate.
"Skillet," Mulder mumbled to himself. "No thanks, Angela. Ah, would you two excuse me for a few minutes, please? I have to make a phone call to Valerie." He got up, too, and headed for the men's room with his cell phone in hand. "Come on, pick up. Pick up your damn...wait a minute. It's only nine thirty. Maybe she's still at the apartment." He hung up and tried dialing another number.
"Scullet."
"Hey, Scullet, it's me, Muldron."
"Mulder...uh, Muldron, where the hell have you been! You've had me worried for the last hour and a half! No notes, no messages on my cell, who do you think you are? You're my partner for Christ's sake!"
He let her finish her tirade patiently but pulled the phone closer to his ear once she finished.
"I apologize, Scully, er...Scullet. I went out for a run because I needed to think this morning. And actually, I ended up in Central Park. Also, I met Drew and Angela while I was running. I'm at their restaurant right now."
"Muldron, don't you remember what we agreed upon? Critiquing by yourself is not a good idea."
"I'm not doing that. They just invited me in for a cup of coffee--and that suddenly turned into breakfast. Hey, would you like to join me?"
"I already ate breakfast and have had three cups of coffee."
"Okay, how about gracing me with your company? Er, uh, gracing us?"
"Not a chance, Muldron. I'm typing up your illegible scrawl right now to send in a preliminary report to Skinner. I also have to get back to the regional office for some more consultation with the forensic analyst concerning this strange compound he found. And what's this addendum about my favorite meal being breakfast all about?"
"Uh--you could actually read that?"
"Obviously."
"I've...I've got to go. But can we meet up this afternoon back at the apartment to plan our next move?"
"That sounds fine. What time?"
Always back to business first, aren't we, Scully?
"How's one sound? I'll bring back some takeout."
"As long as it's not Chinese, that'll be fine."
"Wait a second, what's wrong with Chinese?"
"Don't you have somewhere to be, Muldron?" With that, she ended the call and left him standing in front of the sinks dumbfounded. He trudged confusedly out of the bathroom and plopped himself back down in the booth across from Drew.
"I don't think I'll ever be able to understand women," he grumbled.
"Is she coming?" Angela inquired and slid her plate back onto the table. Drew gladly began to pick at one side of the omelet, and she joined him.
"Not this morning. Maybe I'll be able to talk her into a rendezvous for us tonight. Do you think you'll be too busy for us to come?"
"There's no telling. People usually phone in reservations the day of, not the day before, as you well know, Randy Andy. Lunch will be pretty hectic since it's a Wednesday; but dinner should not be a problem. What do you think, Drew?"
"I think they should come anytime they want." The man bent closer to her and whispered in a language Mulder thought sounded like a blend of French and Dutch.
"Great--please don't make it a big ordeal on our account. Scullet loves to criticize just as much as I but isn't much for the 'royal treatment', if you catch my drift," Mulder hinted and slipped his cell phone back into his pants' pocket. "Well, if you'll excuse me, I think I'd better get back to the apartment and change into some decent work clothes for the day. Thanks for the breakfast."
He arose but then immediately lurched forward involuntarily and gripped the table to try to keep his equilibrium. "What the...-" Unfortunately, he completely lost it and passed out headfirst into Drew's unfinished bowl of oatmeal.
Drew exchanged a mischievous leer with Angela. "Works like a charm every time."
"Not everyone passes out, darling," she jibed.
"Tsk, I know. Where can we stash him for now?"
"And that's all you can recall?" Short probed Mulder as he closed the list.
"Well, besides the part where I found Scully covered from head to toe in goo after I awoke...yeah."
"Amusing story, Agent Mulder. Tell me, should your career end earlier than expected, have you ever thought about becoming a narrator for public broadcasting? You'd definitely have a promising future built up for you there."
"Are you threatening me now?"
"Nope. You just really know how to tell a good story." Short stood and set his half full mug of coffee directly in front of Mulder's nameplate.
"So what does this mean? Are they shutting us down again?"
"I'm not sure of that yet, Agent Mulder. But I'll be back next week to check on you." He packed up his few belongings and shut the door on his way out.