Chapter Nine

Scully's Apartment, Georgetown, Washington, D.C.

April 26th, 2001, 9:16 p.m.

The kitchen table was totally cluttered with manila files and papers, but the chaos all made sense to Mulder, who was working at the head of the table. He occasionally got up for a photograph or to return a single piece back to the pile but always returned to his original seat. Scully had been kind enough to buy him several yellow legal pads; she knew that once he started to profile, he had to have a prolific amount of paper in front of him or else he'd write on something else. And she didn't mind spending the extra money on it. Once he'd gotten a little careless in a moment of brilliance, and a Sharpie smudge accidentally ended up on her grandmother's hand-sewn napkins. A total time period of 72 hours was spent in mortal fear without a word or a glimpse of Scully.

She entered without a verbal greeting; she knew how entranced he could get in a profile once he began. Scully disposed of her personal belongings on the table with her land line and then meandered her way into the kitchen to put on the kettle. After she started the water, she took a peek at Mulder.

He was wearing his reading glasses, and although they were meant to aid his far-sighted vision, they did something inexplicable to her while he wore them. She knew he had a dazzlingly profound mind; she supposed that the lenses just forced her to focus in on his hazel eyes. It was an irrational feeling; the inner female spirit in her was just dying to be exposed after waiting so long. Now there was absolutely no excuse to hide anything except her own fear. "Mulder," she bravely cleared her throat, "would you like some tea?"

"Hmm...what?" he called from the table.

"Would you like some tea? I'm already boiling some water."

"Please." He paused. "Hey, Scully, can you come in here for a second?"

"I'll be right there." Scully poured the water into the mugs, turned off the range, and joined him at his side. "Hi," she whispered and ran her fingers through his hair. "What's up?"

"I think I've figured out your head corporate guy...this Mr. Lyle...to a 't'. He's a classic sociopath; he shows no mercy in his crimes whatsoever. He lacks mercy, feelings, and a general care for fitting into society as a whole. I do blame it partially on his childhood; his foster father did physically abuse him. Most of the abused children I've read about later turn out to be abusers later on; a behavior learned early on is a behavior later executed in life. The child believes that this is part of his or her identity. A rule is broken, and therefore, the one who commits the felony must pay dearly."

"Didn't they find evidence of his doing so with Asian women?"

"That's what I've been studying for the last ten minutes," Mulder nodded and rolled his neck around slowly. "Where were you today?"

"Visiting a few old crime scenes with the teams from Quantico to see if we could scrape up any evidence to support those videos that woman Parker gave us."

"And what of them?"

"There was only one place that hadn't been fully wiped clean. And it'll be difficult to prove that much happened there. Our only witness is 9 years old. I'm not sure how credible his testimony will be in court," she shrugged. "Doggett plans on targeting The Centre's financial transactions tomorrow. I won't be going with the team...-"

"Why not?"

"SAC Capricci wants to go visit Ft. Nexus tomorrow, and I said I'd go with him."

"Where's that? And why?"

"It's in West Virginia—it's a training post for the Black Berets," Scully informed him.

"And you think William is there," Mulder finished for her softly.

"Yeah," she nodded. "So, uh, do you think he's a coward—Lyle?"

"No. He doesn't seem to be the type to be afraid of anything, with the exception of possibly facing his dark past. Why do you ask?"

"He's supposed to be at that meeting in Rhode Island tomorrow. This looks like this could be our one and only chance at apprehending him." She spun around and went towards the mugs resting on the counter.

"Scully, before I commence my profile of Mr. Raines, I'd like to know something."

"What is it, Mulder?" She removed the tea bags and threw them into the garbage.

"You mentioned leaving the X-Files. Do Reyes or Doggett know this?"

"Well, I think Monica heard us talking about it over at Mom's place. I haven't mentioned it to John yet."

"Is it because I'm not over there at the Hoover anymore?"

Scully had just begun to pick up their tea but now suddenly could not.

"It's a culmination of things," she replied.

"But I'm still working with you—most of the cases you bring home are legitimate X-Files."

"I don't know if you'll ever understand how I feel about the X-Files, Mulder, since the division is your brainchild and your life's work."

"Well, please tell me, Scully. Make me understand."

"Although the last nine years of my life have been spent in that office and in the passenger seat of a rental more times than I care to remember, all I ever wanted to do was help people when I joined the FBI. I wanted to find the truth and be recognized for doing a job well."

"And you think you wasted your career because of me...because of my bull-headed pursuits," he murmured disconcertingly and hung his head low.

"No. I haven't wasted my career, Mulder. Neither have you." She faced him and brought the mugs over to the table.

"You've got to be kidding. People laugh when they hear the name Spooky; I bet there are rumors still going on about the two of us. Kersh almost wasn't going to let Doggett, Reyes, and you start investigating The Centre because it was my idea. Does that sound like a respectful reputation to you?"

"SAC Capricci respects you. He says you gave up too easily."

"I got tired of pissing in the wind Scully," Mulder shrugged and sipped some tea from his ceramic.

"I didn't want to leave the X-Files before because I saw something different in you that I couldn't see in myself—perseverance. But now you're taking a defeatist attitude, and I don't think I could continue to work on a project or case that I don't feel the same about. That's what I meant when I said earlier that when you left, the X-Files Division died. It lacks your propulsion, your vision."

"You do miss me," the corners of his mouth turned up.

"In a sort of...irrational and illogical way, yes," Scully sighed, "I guess I do."

"I miss being able to put my feet on my desk." He eyed the table, gazed up at her, and when he received a disparaging eyebrow from her, he smiled gleefully.

"If certain parties...were removed from authority...and others happened to...replace them, do you think you could find it in your heart to come back?"

"I think that office is already crowded, don't you think?"

"Who said there only had to be one office?" She took a drink from her mug, and a knock on her door surprised the both of them. Scully set her beverage down, went to answer it, and received nearly the biggest shock of her life when she saw Jarod standing there with William in his arms.

"Sorry I couldn't get him back to you any sooner. I had to dodge a few roadblocks," he apologized and handed the baby to a very stupefied Scully.

"I..I...won't you...uh...please come in?" she asked as he gave her a broad grin and nodded.

Mulder heard the commotion, rose from his chair, and nearly pounced on the sight of his son in Scully's arms. "My God. H-h—how did you...-" he began.

"I followed a lead from Agent Scully," Jarod remarked.

"What!" Scully shouted and rushed into her bedroom to place the boy back into his rightful crib. She then joined both men who were now lounging in her living room. "What did I say?"

"You mentioned the DOD, that's all."

"I...I don't get it," she shook her head.

"You don't have to; just continue to be a good mom."

"I can't thank you enough for what you've done," Mulder started. "But I am rather curious as to where you found-"

"Let's just say that he was in a place where babies should not be...where no child should have to grow up alone," Jarod replied.

"Thank you, Jarod. Is there something we could do for you in return?" Scully inquired.

"You already did help me; I just returned the favor."

"So what became of the case in Indiana?" Mulder questioned him.

"I left to pursue...another interest, but I did leave some names behind. And hopefully, Sgt. Riker will be behind bars soon for her treason. That was a terrible thing she did; if Will hadn't been kidnapped, she might have received some quick lessons in justice."

"What do you mean by that?" Scully pressed.

"Uh..." Another knock came to the door; Jarod hopped up from his seat first and opened it.

"That'll be $14.99, mister," an Asian American teenager told him and offered Jarod a stack of Chinese food in cardboard takeout boxes.

"Just wait a second, Brian," Mulder called and dug out his wallet. He gave the young man a ten and a five, to which Brian rolled his eyes and left.

"Thanks, big spender."

"Mulder, how much did you tip the delivery boy?" Scully asked and stood.

"Enough for his weekend allowance," Mulder answered and directed Jarod to the kitchen countertops. "Thanks, Jarod. Hey, would you like some? We were talking about Chinese a couple of days ago, weren't we?"

"Yes, we were. But I think I'd better leave you two alone," Jarod chuckled.

"Nonsense, there's plenty here," Scully urged him.

"No, really, I couldn't impose. However, if I might ask to just try out the hard noodle wrapped in plastic?" He gestured to the cookie on top as Mulder folded the cardboard flaps back.

"The fortune cookie?" Mulder inquired. "You've never had one of those before?"

"Oh, that's what they're called. No--never."

"You're in for a treat. Go ahead." Jarod took the cookie and unwrapped it as Mulder and Scully looked on with pleasure. It reminded Scully of watching her brothers at Christmas—Charles, in particular. "Now just break it in half at the middle. Good."

"Oh, and here's the fortune," Jarod enthused and read the paper. He frowned and scratched his head.

"What's wrong?" Scully demanded.

"Well, it's not very truthful." The Pretender grimaced and handed the scrap to Mulder.

"Your happy marriage will soon turn sharply to the left. Look out for trouble ahead," Mulder read. "Um...well...no one ever said that the fortunes were correct. I had one say that all of my choices would be well made, and that my life would be full of contentment. I can't say that I've had either of those two things happen to me very often—until recently," he said and glanced at Scully.

"So what does it taste like?" Jarod asked him.

"Oh, it's got a flavor of its own. I can't really explain it, you just have to try it and find out for yourself."

Jarod shrugged and inserted part of the cookie into his mouth. He ate about a quarter of the bakery and threw the rest of it into a wastebasket. "I like ice cream better."

"I have to agree," Scully remarked.

"Do you happen to have some?" His eyes lit up as she traveled to her freezer and handed him a pint of Edy's Dreamery.

"Go on, take it. It's the least I can do to repay your generosity."

"Thank you. Oh, and you won't have to worry about Marita Covarrubias bothering you anytime soon. I've taken care of her...for a while." Jarod waived a goodbye to them and walked out the door before either could stop him for any further query.

"I guess that's a question the Gunmen could answer...later on...if you're still curious," Mulder retreated to the table and started to tidy it of his mess.

"Mulder, you didn't answer my question."

"Mac Gyver."

"What?"

"Didn't you ask me once what my favorite TV show was?"

"Uh..." While she tried to context the conversation, he continued to clear the table. "Mulder, that was three years ago on our way to Nevada!"

"Better late than never," he shrugged and grinned maniacally.

"I always had you pegged for being a Trekkie."

"Well, I did have the outfit when I was a kid, but then I thought they ruined the show when Levar Burton came on. So I stopped watching. A show can only go on for so many years before the writing and acting gets to be crappy, you know?"

"I guess." She picked up her mug, which was now lukewarm, but she still drank from it anyway. "My question was about the X-Files. Would you ever come back if Skinner were in charge again?"

He stacked the photos and files into a box. "Can we make it happen?"

She sighed and began to tap her fingernails onto the mug. "I don't know. But I do know that it'd be a lot easier for me...if you came back."

"Mmm...Doggett's testosterone action first and think later than testosterone action doesn't get you off, does it?"

"Upon what do you base that crazed theory?"

"Past experience," he smirked.

She set the mug down and crossed her arms. "Let's just say that he's not an easy person to bounce ideas off of."

"He keeps on dropping the "I get it" ball." Mulder set the box onto a chair, journeyed over to her coat rack, and slipped on his leather jacket. "Hope you don't mind, but I've got to get home and feed the fish. I think Molly might eat Nader tonight if I don't; I noticed her eyeing him suspiciously yesterday."

"You named your new fish after a politician...?"

"Well, he was the runt of the litter, so I'm told."

"Mulder?"

"Yes?"

"How do you think Jarod got our son back?"

"Dunno, Scully, and frankly, my dear, I don't give a damn."

"How long have you been waiting to use that one?" she rolled her eyes.

"Since you made me sit through that torture two weeks ago."

"Admit it, you liked Clark Gable."

"Only because he was the only guy with both his balls in the entire film."

She raised a peeved eyebrow, and he took that moment to open her door.

"Next week, my dear pookie, Arnold Schwartzenegger will grace the silver screen," Mulder tried his best to mimic Clark Gable's accent, but it ended up sounding like a bad Mel Brooks imitation instead.

She snickered aphoristically through her nose and lifted her hand up for him to kiss. "You're too kind, poopyhead."

"Scully, what's this?" He was just about to appease her when he observed a rather familiar ring resting upon her fourth finger. "But...I thought you weren't going to...I mean you said-"

"That was before I got a really good look at it and think about us."

"Yeah?"

"If it's all right with you, I'd like to keep it."

"Nothing would make me happier."

"I still feel the same about suicide, but I realize that I was wrong about the ring. It belonged to your mother, yes, but, now it belongs to you, and I..."

"Yes?"

She was yearning to say something more, but fear took hold of her once again. "I just wanted to thank you for being so kind."

"You're welcome." He leaned forward and pressed his lips to the crown of her forehead. When they finished, they rested against one another's brow.

"Hey, Mulder?" Her sultry voice came back.

"What?"

"Did you ever mention something about a twelve minute encounter?"

"Maybe." His stomach did a flip.

"You know, Jack and I had a record of about ten."

"And where did this take place?"

She ignored him. "I was thinking about trying to break it sometime..."

His palms became a little bit sweaty now, and he could swear that their foreheads were getting very warm now.

"But, you do have to feed your fish," she finished and gave him a wanton smile.

"I'll buy new ones tomorrow," he breathed, pushed her back into her apartment, and slammed the door shut.

THE END