Chapter Five
Scully's Apartment, Georgetown, Washington, D.C.
April 25th, 2001, 12:39 a.m.
As she let herself inside, she saw a familiar wallet and set of keys lying on her kitchen table. A brilliant series of flashes attracted her attention to the muted TV and an unconscious Mulder sprawled on the couch. His head was leaned all the way back and his mouth hung open as he breathed through it sporadically. The sight of this perfect tranquility and sliver of domestic normality almost broke her heart.
It didn't feel right to wake him up and ask him to go home, especially after he had just done her a favor by staying with her mother. So Scully turned the TV off and began to pick through her mail. Thankfully, there were no messages on her machine for once. She removed her coat, hung it up, and adjourned to her kitchen table to further browse her mail. "Credit card bill, advertisement for Avalon Spa...hmm...junk. Junk, junk, junk. Great. Another bill. I swear that this is the only part of my life that feels normal anymore," she muttered and slid a fingernail underneath the sealed flap.
She was so engrossed in her credit card bill that she did not hear the footsteps behind her chair or see the shadow of a figure looming over her. Hands reached for the back of her head and gently slid through her hair. The gasp that came from her quickly turned into a sigh as she realized who was also present with her. "Oh, Mulder. Sorry, I didn't mean to wake you," she said and yawned.
"I hoped that you would, but preferably for another reason besides going through your bills," he chuckled and continued his ministrations to the back of her scalp.
"I think I might fall asleep right here and now if you continue that." Scully let the paper fall to the floor and leaned all the way forward until she was outstretched on the table on top of her mail.
"I don't know if I'd like that. This is the classic Mulder scalp massage, guaranteed to wile away the troubles of your day, and also, well...um...invigorate you..." he stammered.
"Are you coming on to me, Mulder?" Her voice was somewhat muffled, but he found it incredibly sensual. Never the less, he did not falter from his task.
"Uh...not if it makes you feel uncomfortable."
"Well, I'm getting a little too comfortable in this position, and although this feels like heaven, I'm gonna need to retreat to my bed soon."
"Who's rushing you?"
She sighed before giving her answer and relaxed. "No one."
"All right, then. Tell me about Agent Reyes," Mulder soothed and moved his hands to the nape of her neck.
"I had the doctors run a CT scan and MRI. They didn't see anything to worry about, but they are keeping her for observation for the night. The best thing for a migraine sufferer to do is to rest and have peace. Drugs work temporarily, but they do come with a cost."
"Mmmhmm. Go on."
"This does not feel like a scalp massage, Mulder. Your hands have migrated to my vertebrae."
"Well, the new and improved Mulder neck massage also guarantees to..." He stopped his actions and glanced down at her torso.
"Guarantees to do what, Mulder?"
"I was just noticing that you're still armed."
"Oh," she yawned again and sat back up.
Great. Guess I just ruined the moment, he thought. Strike one.
"I told Monica not to come in tomorrow, so I guess it'll just be Doggett and me," Scully remarked despondently and arose.
"Is that so horrible?"
"Not unless I get there first and make the coffee. So again, as much as I'd like to give into my inhibitions and carnal desires tonight, I can't. I'm afraid I'm a little worn out. Sorry, Mulder."
Strike two.
"When did Mom go to sleep?"
"About eleven thirty. Then I came over here to see if you were back yet, and you know the rest of the story."
"Indeed I do. Stay here if you'd like. I think I could get you some sheets for the couch if-"
"Don't trouble yourself, Scully. I'll just use the blanket--it's no biggie."
"All right, well...good night, Mulder," she sighed and trailed off into her bedroom. The door closed swiftly afterward.
"Damn. Strike three, I'm out," he mumbled and went back to the couch.
Special Representative to the Secretary General Office, UN Building, New York, NY
April 25th, 2001, 9:12 a.m.
"Lt. Colonel Jarod Grant," Jarod introduced himself to the executive assistant in the atrium and gave her a brilliant grin. "I'm here for my 9:30 with the Special Representative."
"Oh, yes, sir, she's expecting you. However, she does have another visitor at the moment," the woman began, to which Jarod held up a hand.
"That's quite all right. I understand how busy the life of a diplomat can be." He took off his gloves and tucked them neatly underneath an oak-leaf epaulet. Suddenly, the intercom at the secretary's desk beeped. "Who's outside, Paula?" a female voice inquired.
"Lt. Colonel Grant, of the um...-"
"Just the Army, miss. I'm a plain and simple kind of guy."
"Send him in right away. I could use another member of the military, actually," Covarrubias commanded.
"Yes, of course, Ms. Covarrubias," Paula replied and opened the electromagnetic door with the flick of a switch underneath her desk. As soon as Jarod went through it, the door immediately closed itself.
The office of the Special Representative was luxurious; the furniture was all mahogany or a cherry rosewood. Its walls were covered with a placid green wallpaper and shelves of encased books lined nearly every single one of them. Covarrubias rose from her desk and pleasantly shook his hand. "How do you do, Colonel? My name is Marita Covarrubias."
"It's my pleasure to be of service to you, ma'am. Now you were saying something about another member of the military...?" Grant pressed.
"Of course, I was just getting to that. Lt. Colonel Grant, please meet Captain Charles Scully, of the United States' Air Force."
Captain Scully did not stand, but he did offer his hand to Jarod. "Nice to meet you, I'm sure," he stated matter-of-factly.
"The reason why I called for you gentlemen is because a situation has come into play in West Virginia. It could be rather...messy, and we'd like to keep this problem under wraps," Covarrubias commented. "Captain Scully, I understand that you are Bethesda Air Base's finest pilot. You did some recent missions out of Kosovo, isn't that correct?"
"Yes, ma'am, but I can't comment upon them at this time," he replied and peripherally glanced at Jarod.
"There's no need for secrecy, Captain Scully. Lt. Colonel Grant is here at my request, and I have your file on my desk. Your mission details aren't restricted to UN officials...especially Americans."
"What do you want to know? How many bombs I dropped?" he snapped back.
"No, I want to find out what type of plane you flew."
"An F-16."
"Lt. Colonel, you ran some reconnaissance with the Rangers back in the Gulf War. Could you possibly use your status to do so again?" Covarrubias inquired.
"It's likely. What's needed?" Jarod asked.
"As you gentlemen know, what I'm about to say is to be held in the strictest confidence. It's so secret that only a handful of people know about it; you two are the last. Your men," she directed the order to Grant, "are to know only the location and time of this mission."
"What makes this an international concern since it's on US soil?" Capt. Scully questioned her.
"Because it concerns the planet and our safety," she responded gravely.
"How so?"
"Our satellites at El Rico picked up some unusual activity in the air approximately five miles away from Stonewall Jackson Lake. Seeing as it is the beginning of spring and nearly inevitable for the possibility of civilian interference, we have closed down the state park for two days. Unfortunately, that is all the time we have before more questions would be asked by state officials."
"Unusual activity? I don't understand...we know what other countries' planes look like. The Cold War is long over between us and Russia...China's on pretty good terms with us..." Capt. Scully remarked.
"We had a three man team go out from Ft. Nexus; they were Black Berets. Only one of them returned, and he came back with third degree burns on his face. I am told from the doctors at the base that they could see parts of the man's skull. He'll probably never use his mouth again normally."
"How did the others die?" Jarod inquired.
"That's what we want you to find out. The soldier couldn't say too much; he was also suffering from post traumatic stress syndrome," Covarrubias answered him. "We also want to find out as much as you can about the aircraft, Captain Scully. Take detailed photographs--perhaps the craft will still be operable. We'd like to know that as well. Here was the team's last reported position." She wrote the number on a slip of paper and handed it across the bureau to Grant.
"If some foreign airplane crashed in a state park, it's gonna be a wreck. There's no way to salvage a demolished jet," Capt. Scully scoffed.
"I didn't say it was a jet, Captain. The craft was going too fast to be properly classified as one."
"Well, then...well...what was its velocity?" His forehead wrinkled in disbelief, and he crossed one leg over the other.
"We couldn't measure it. By the time it was recognized the second time, it had disappeared."
"What else is needed to be done?" Grant asked her.
"Nothing yet. But as of eleven o'clock this morning, we have 48 hours. 48 hours for investigation, clean up, and recovery," she informed them. "Let's get busy, gentlemen."
Outside the office, 40th floor of UN Building...
"I can't believe they called me in for this crap. I was gonna test a new stealth bomber tomorrow," Capt. Scully lamented as he and Grant traveled down the long corridor.
"You think it's a dirty assignment to look for a murderer?"
"I'm a pilot, Colonel. I fly the skies. This job we're being asked to do; it sounds like a legit assignment for a government agency."
"Like the FBI?"
"Yeah, I guess. My sister'd probably be all for it."
"Your sister," Jarod pondered the thought for a few seconds as they finally arrived at an elevator. "Is her name Dana?"
Capt. Scully studied him incredulously. "How do you know her?"
"I met her in Indianapolis this last weekend. She was working a case there."
"How'd you meet?"
"We sort of...bumped into one another in a fast food restaurant." Grant pushed the call button and leaned a shoulder up against a wall.
"Hmmph, one of those wild coincidences, I guess. So, what time do you want to meet tonight?"
"I'll need some time to prepare and contact two others, but, I estimate that we should rendezvous at the previous team's entry point at say...1930 hours?"
"Sounds fine. She gave you the GPS position of the Berets, right?"
"I have the information," Jarod agreed. "Will you need a copy?"
"Nah, just let me look at it once." As the lift's doors opened, Jarod withdrew the paper and gave it to Capt. Scully. When they closed, he returned the scrap to Grant. "I'll be ready to meet you then."
The X-Files Office, FBI Headquarters, Washington, D.C.
April 25th, 2001, 10:04 a.m.
"Sorry to be late this morning, Agent Scully," Doggett apologized as he crossed the threshold of the open door.
Scully sorted through the papers she'd been reading and shuffled them all together into a pile. "That's quite fine, Agent Doggett. I was just uh...catching up on what I missed with the Centre case file. Uh...SAC Capricci met with me earlier and notified me that he is now going to totally dedicate his time to try and find my son. He put the paperwork through to Deputy Director Kersh earlier this morning, and the case is now officially ours."
"Pardon me for asking, but what did Kersh have to say about that case out in Indianapolis?"
"I left the status as being open; he said that he was glad that I came back to my senses, and that this case is more worth our time than what I was doing," she shook her head. "If I ever find out whom he reports to in that organization..."
"Monica's okay. I was visiting her at the hospital this morning to check up on her--hope you don't mind."
"Not at all. How is she?"
"She seemed like her old self; they're going to give her a prescription for a while. She's going to return tomorrow just for half a day. Only Monica knows her limits." He sat down at his desk and pulled out a CD from his suit jacket. "Did you ever see what they did to him?"
"See what who did what to whom?" Scully leaned forward in the chair and reached out a hand for the disc.
"These recordings are a compilation of some events of a guy's life named Jarod. This is the guy that's been narc'ing the Centre to the Lone Gunmen."
"A guy named Jarod? Hmm." As he gave the disc to her, she gummed her bottom lip pensively and ejected her computer's disk drive. "I wonder if..." Scully slid the disc into the tray and pushed it gently back into the tower.
Three men dragged a kicking, screaming, shirtless Pretender to a rolling gurney and strapped him down to it with restraints. "No, no, please don't!" Jarod yelled.
"Tighten those straps," a bald headed man with an oxygen line running through his nose ordered the men. Two of them complied with his wishes while the bald man swabbed Jarod's shoulder and plunged a hypodermic needle into him. Four wires were placed on his chest.
"No! No!" Jarod pleaded.
"Open the chamber," the man continued and they did as told. The next order was unspoken; the gurney carrying the Pretender was shoved into the cylindrical tank, and they slammed the door shut.
"No, no, please stop!" Even while he was inside the tank, he still fought to get out of his bindings.
"Oh, I haven't seen this one. What're they doing to him?" Doggett asked as he came over to Scully's desk and peered over her shoulder at the computer monitor.
"I'm not sure from this angle, Agent Doggett. But it doesn't look like an ethical medical procedure to me," she replied. "My God."
"What? What's that mean?"
"Get him out of there!" the bald man screamed.
Moments later, the chamber was opened with a blast of visibly cold air, and the gurney was removed with a silent Jarod. His activity monitors were making dangerous noises. The bald man took two defibrillator paddles and charged them up. "All right, everyone get your hands off of him! Clear!"
Once was not enough. "Give me a higher charge! Clear!"
The second jump start still had no effect on the Pretender.
"Once more, higher! Good, clear!"
Finally, Jarod's heart came back to life. "Excellent. Let's give him two minutes to establish a normal rhythm, and we'll repeat the procedure."
"They were killing him," Scully said finally, making eye contact with Doggett. "I'm not sure what kind of drug was being used on him, but it looks like it's used to slow or stop the heart."
"From what I saw, it looked like they were freezing him, too. Why would anyone want to do that?"
"To perhaps speed up the drug's effect. I don't know for sure," she shook her head. "But this man...I met him." She tapped the screen.
"You actually met Jarod face to face?"
"Mmhmm, yes; he was the coroner I was staying to help in Indianapolis."
"What about this other guy?" Doggett motioned to the bald headed man.
"Don't know him. But his morals are certainly askew. He seems to value science over human life, and in my book, that's a huge crime. I'd like to take this to the Gunmen and find out who this man is, as well as the identity of the other standing in the corner."
"They were the ones who gave me this disc. I'm afraid if they'd known of Dr. Frankenstein's name, they'd have given it to me by now." Doggett went over to his bureau and picked up the phone.
"What're you doing?" Scully questioned him.
"I'm gonna have somebody figure out who Dr. Mengele is. She helped us before and kept the whole thing under wraps."
"Who is this person?"
"Trust me, Agent Scully." He dialed in four digits and rested a hip against the corner of his desk. "Hello, is this the Cyber Division? This is John Doggett, of the X-Files. Can you put me through to extension 216? Thanks. Hello, Agent Wazir? Yeah, this is John Doggett. Could you come down to our office for a little bit? We've got something for you to look at that requires your expertise. No, uh, Tony's not here...just Agent Scully and myself. Is that okay?" Doggett paused for a few seconds as he listened to Wazir. "Thanks very much. It'll probably only take you ten minutes. No, we've got computers here. I appreciate it. See you in five."
"Agent Wazir? That name rings a bell," Scully said and tapped the underside of her chin. "What's her first name?"
"I believe it's Sabrina."
"Oh, now I remember. Poor woman," she shook her head and removed a pen from her center drawer.
"You mean you know her already?"
"No, I just heard rumors. Now I know who the culprit was; the uh...party of the second part to Agent Capricci was a toxicologist. I've worked with her numerous times at Quantico."
"So you knew who Tony was?"
"No," her attention left Doggett to a form, to which she signed with a flourish. "Woman's intuition."
"Huh?"
"I just knew that Rita Hayes mentioned that she had unintentionally been involved in a love triangle, and that the situation she was found in with the man was...particularly embarrassing."
"How is it that I didn't know about this?"
"Women listen; men don't," she smirked and scanned over another piece of paper.
"I guess I've just...learned to block my ears after hearing all the rumors being spread about our division. You'd think that they have nothing else better to do than dream up stories about the three of us."
"Oh," Scully chuffed, "what're they saying this week?"
"This is office is rather...small," a female voice observed from around the corner. She poked her head in and made direct eye contact with Scully. "You must be whom they nickname 'Mrs. Spooky.'"
Scully arched an eyebrow and glanced at Doggett as if to ask who the hell is this? The second piece of body language spoke massively of a veiled threat; her lower jaw extended itself outward, and she folded her hands across her lap. "And you would be?" she finally asked.
"This is Agent Sabrina Wazir, Agent Scully," Doggett broke the tension and motioned for Wazir to come inside. "Agent Wazir, Agent Dana Scully."
"I'm told you're one of the finest in Cyber Division."
"Oh, she did not just say one of the finest," Wazir huffed and disgustedly spun around.
"Agent Wazir, please, we need your help," Doggett begged. "We can't turn to anyone else."
"Well, perhaps, you could turn to one of the other finer agents in CD that Agent Scully aforementioned."
"You've certainly got an attitude problem," Scully noted. "How did you pass the FBI psych exam?"
"I don't do people," she shook her head. Wazir turned a full 180 and began to walk down the hallway; Doggett shot out of the office like a bullet.
"You've got to excuse Agent Scully; she's uh...out of sorts today," he started.
"Yeah, so I've heard," Wazir retorted. "She's been out of her tree for the last nine years."
"Look, you are amazing at what you do; I'll grant you that. But that's no reason for you to disrespect a senior agent."
"I heard that she claims that she inexplicably 'got pregnant'. Who does she think she is, the Virgin Mary, or somethin'?"
"That's because she was previously thought to be barren."
"Yeah, well, my money's with everybody else; Spooky screwed her senseless, left town, came back, and then got fired for knocking her up."
"That's enough!" Doggett yelled and grabbed her by the arm. "None of that's true!"
"Let go of me."
"Not until you get back into that office and apologize to your fellow agent for such disparaging and unprofessional remarks." He released her and blocked the way to the elevator. "I heard about some skeletons in your closet," he continued on in a lower volume. "They sound a lot worse than Agent Scully's."
"And what do you know about 'em?"
"Enough to ruin your reputation almost as badly as hers."
Wazir's eyes went to the cement floor, and she sighed. "What do you need me to do?"
"How good are you at establishing identities from a still taken from a video?"
"It's as easy as playing chess against a five year old. Where's this video?"
"In there," Doggett signaled down the hallway with his head.
They turned and retreated back to the basement office. Scully had just taken out a hole puncher from her desk when they returned. She lifted up one stack of papers and mindlessly poked two holes through them without addressing either entering agent. Doggett lifted the client chair that was previously in front of Scully's desk next to her. "Agent Scully, Agent Wazir's got something to say to you," he cleared his throat.
Scully ran the papers through the X-File's brads without looking up.
"I need to use your computer, Agent Scully," Wazir stated and seated herself beside the pathologist.
"Fine," Scully returned coldly and shut the X-File.
"Which one of these guys do you want?" Wazir animated the monitor.
"That one, I think," Doggett told her and pointed to the bald man.
"Guy looks creepy. Wouldn't want him operating on me," she quipped and captured the image.
"I'd start searching in the medical licensing field if I were you," Scully mumbled.
"No shit, Sherlock." Wazir brought up the FBI internet browser and pasted the man's photo in the AMA database. The words 'no records found' appeared seconds later. "Hmm...this place is somewhere in the state of Delaware, right?"
"Good description, yeah," Doggett remarked.
"I'll look for him in their license bureau, but he might not be there."
"Meaning what?"
"He could've been licensed in another state and just practiced illegally there," Scully cut in. "But it's worth a shot."
Wazir pasted the picture into Delaware's database of medical licenses, and unfortunately, again, the words 'no records found' popped up on the next web page. "Hmm...he doesn't look too young. Let me try something different," she muttered. "Do doctors' licenses expire, Agent Scully?"
"No, but they can be revoked."
"Then let's hope I'm fishing in the right pond this time." Seconds later, Wazir's search was fruitful. "Bingo. Bald-headed man is formerly Dr. William Raines, MD. His license was suspended in 1988, and it says here that he hasn't re-applied for reinstatement so far."
"I doubt that those experiments were performed with Jarod's consent," Scully surmised. "I read here in SAC Capricci's report that you're not sure of the Centre's exact location. Why is that? Surely they advertise."
"They're a black listed syndicate. Maybe somebody in the military would know," Wazir suggested and shrugged.
"What kind of contracts have they done for our defenses?"
"They've done some things for the Air Force and the Navy. Good luck with that."
"I've got an idea of someone I can talk to," Doggett commented. "But I need to go up to his office alone."
"Who?" Scully's forehead furrowed into worry marks.
"Got a 302 form handy?" He straightened his tie and left the women alone.
"That's what I was just preparing," she raised her voice. "So," Scully faced Wazir, "who's this other guy?" she pointed to the man in the shadows.
"That'll take a little bit more time," Wazir responded apprehensively.
"Well, that shouldn't pose a problem for the best agent in Cyber Division, should it?"