Frohike jerked awake, confused and disoriented, his heart hammering in his chest. It was just a dream but that knowledge didn't help the layer of unease that had settled over him in the dark.
It was dark. Why was it dark?
He searched his memory; afraid all he would remember was passing out after an alcoholic binge. But his mouth lacked that foul morning after taste and he was sitting up which meant he had dozed off in a chair. He could also smell Dana's perfume.
Where was she? And where were the others? His questions were met by a silence he didn't like. He sat up, feeling pain from a crick in his neck. He rolled his neck around, hearing the joints crack. How long had he been asleep? The crick meant he had been out far longer than he thought.
He reached up and snapped on the lamp next to him. He blinked at the sudden light and saw his spare hat on the desk where he had dropped it. He also noticed a lab coat spread over him like a blanket. He remembered Dana taking it off as they talked. She must have covered him with it when he fell asleep.
But why hadn't she woken him? She knew he had promised Yves he would stay awake and keep an eye on things so she would take a much-needed rest.
Apparently Dana had thought he needed one too.
He checked the clock high on the wall in the corner. It was going on midnight. He'd been asleep for hours.
"Damn it," he muttered. She should never have let him sleep. And where were they anyway? That uneasy feeling grew and he pushed the lab coat off of himself and stood up quickly. He inhaled sharply as his stitches pulled against his skin, sending a shooting pain up and down his leg. He held onto the chair and waited for the pain to subside. Once it had settled into a dull throb, he grabbed his hat and went in search of the others.
He checked Dana's office first since it was closest. He opened the door slowly, letting in a crack of light from the hall. On the couch, Yves murmured restlessly in her sleep.
Frohike wondered if she suffered unsettling dreams as well.
He considered waking her but decided not to disturb her. Not unless he had too. He quietly closed the door.
There were several other doors. One, Dana had mentioned, was a general storage room used by cleaning staff. He tested the door out of habit. It was locked. The rest were either locked or opened easily but he found those rooms to be empty.
His only other option was the admittance bay at the end of the hall.
He found Dana at the desk reading file folders and looking freshly scrubbed in a different lab coat. He wrinkled his nose. There was the faint chemical smell in the air that had been absent before. "Dana," he said softly so as not to startle her.
She looked up, setting the files on the desk. "Mel," she said studying his face. She must have sensed his mood because he heard no regret in her voice, "You needed to rest. I won't apologize for letting you sleep."
It was obvious he wouldn't win this fight with her and it was a moot point anyway. Besides he did feel more alert. He wrinkled his nose instead, tossing his hat on the desk. "What is that odor?" He complained. "It smells awful."
Dana frowned, sniffed her clothing and sighed. "It's ammonia. The police brought in a body earlier. They needed a work up right away." She sniffed her sleeve again and shook her head. "I must be getting immune to the smell."
Mel glanced around the bay and chuckled. "Where have Laurel and Hardy gotten too?"
Dana stared at him as if he was a medical experiment gone wrong. "Who?"
"Jimmy and the Professor," Mel explained.
Dana smiled at the reference. "It's an appropriate comparison," she said, picking up the file again. She made a few notations as she talked. "They didn't want to witness an autopsy so they didn't come back. I have to admit, the quiet has been relaxing."
"Dana, what do you mean by they didn't come back?"
Dana looked up from her report. "When the ambulance arrived with the body, I was worried it might be a trick or something by the people after you. So I sent the boys away."
Frohike's blood turned to ice. "Why didn't you wake me? God, Dana, if –"
"Mel," she said, standing up and touching his shoulder. "I had no doubt it was a delivery but I was cautious and sent the boys off with instructions to go to you if they didn't hear from me in five minutes. The professor is safe," she added.
"If that had been Fletcher or one of his goons –"
"It wasn't," Dana assured him.
"That's not the point!" Mel retorted, anger and fear for her battling inside him. "They tried to kill us by blowing up a house. They shot at us during a high-speed chase in the dark. Who knows what they are capable of?"
"We met only a couple of days ago. This is the last place anyone would think to look," said Dana.
"We don't know that!" Frohike's voice rose. "I can only guess at what information they have on us. I do know they have connections inside the F.B.I but not how far that goes or whether or not they've infiltrated any other government agencies." He took a step away from her. "I shouldn't have brought them here."
"Don't be silly," Dana said, "of course you should have. You were seriously hurt. All of you were."
"Dana." Frohike's voice cracked with emotion. "I can't lose you. I can't lose another person I care about."
Dana stared at him in shock for a moment then went to him, pulling him into an embrace. "You won't lose me, Mel," she said softly, saddened for all the losses in his life, yet pleased to hear him admit that he cared about her.
He clutched her as if he was afraid she might disappear and buried his face in the curve of her neck. She stroked his hair. "You should know that when I set my mind to something, I get what I want and…" her voice lowered, "…what I want is you."
"Dana," Mel finally said after an interminably, awkward silence. Dana's heart felt as if it were going to seize up on her. Her mother always said she was too outspoken, that she needed to be more demure. He pulled back a little and touched her face with a lingering caress that she felt down to her toes. He gazed into her eyes. "I want you too," he said softly, his lips lifting in a smile, "but not when you smell to high heaven of ammonia"
They both laughed and parted. "I do need to change clothes," she said ruefully, "but I lent my extra set to Yves."
He glanced at the admittance bay doors. "Don't tell me they're outside."
"Who?" Dana asked. The man could certainly be perplexing at times.
"Laurel and Hardy," he reminded her.
She looked at him puzzled. Hadn't they already gone over this? "They're in the lunch room, most likely eating every last bit of food they can find."
That uneasy fear clutched at Frohike again. "Dana, this is important - when was the last time you saw them?"
She was about to ask him a question but the look in his eyes made her check the clock on the wall. "I saw them 42 minutes ago."
"Are you sure?"
"Yes. It's standard procedure to note the time on the preliminary paperwork as well as the autopsy," she said. "Jimmy had just brought me a cup of coffee and mentioned the Professor was unsettled by the autopsy and they were going to stay in the lunch room."
"They aren't there," said Frohike. "Are you sure no one else came by?"
"No one," Dana answered. "It's been a quiet night."
"What about other entrances? Could someone have gotten in another way?"
"Mel, I'm sure they are here somewhere. They have to be."
"How many," he insisted.
Dana sighed, indicating the bay doors. "These doors are unlocked 24 hours a day but there are three other entrances that are locked at 6 p.m. You can go out but…" Dana's words trailed off as she thought of something. "They didn't," she whispered, almost to herself. "They couldn't have. I expressly told them to wait for you and Yves."
"They couldn't have…what?" Frohike demanded. "Why did you tell them to wait?"
Dana looked apologetically at Mel. "Somehow they figured out Jimmy had pictures of some equations Langly thought were destroyed. Langly wanted to go get them. I told them it was too dangerous and they should wait for you or Yves to wake up."
Mel stared at her then spun around and ran out the admitting door, cold air biting at his skin. It was as he feared. His car was gone. God dammit! How had they gotten his keys? And then he remembered. Jimmy had never given them back to him after fetching the clothes for the professor out of his trunk.
He hadn't thought the two men would take off on their own.
"They must have left while I was performing the autopsy," Scully said quietly from his side.
He glanced at her. She had her arms wrapped around herself against the cool air, rubbing her bare skin. Her expression was inscrutable but he knew she blamed herself for their stupid stunt.
If the bad guys didn't kill them, he would gladly do it.
"I need to borrow your car, Dana."
"I'll get the keys."
They went back inside.
He grabbed his hat off the desk and put it on. "Did they say where they were going?" he asked as she removed her car key from her key ring.
Dana nodded. "Jimmy said the pictures where at his apartment."
"That's not too far from here. I'll be back as soon as I can." He started for the door.
"Mel, is there anything I can do to help?"
"This isn't your fault, Dana," he said. "But there is something you can do for me." He reached into his pocket and withdrew a folded piece of paper and handed it to her. "It's Jimmy's number. Call him. Tell him to sit tight and don't move until I get there."
"What about Yves? Should I tell her what happened?"
"No." God, no! She'd probably make good on her promise to give him a new breathing passage. And then she would get angry. He smiled at Dana and joked, "We'll make them tell her as punishment for taking off."
"Be careful," she said, a frown creasing her lovely face
Mel tipped his hat low on his head and drawled, "Always, Dollface."
He turned to leave but not before he saw a smile crack her worried veneer.
"I don't have a good feeling about this," Jimmy whispered half-heartedly. "Maybe we should go back to the morgue and wait for Yves and Frohike."
Langly slanted an impatient look at him. "I've gone through too much to give up now. Yves too," he added in a softer voice. "After everything she's done for me - for us. If I can ease some of the pressure she's under by getting these pictures, then it'll be worth it. Besides, we're here already."
Jimmy sighed and unlocked his door. "Just keep your voice down," he said, pushing the door open and stepping inside. "I don't want to wake my neighbors."
He flipped the switch, filling the room with light. Langly brushed passed him. "Jeez," he muttered, "what a dump."
"Hey, it's not that bad," said Jimmy defensively, his eyes automatically taking in his apartment. Ok, sure. His furniture was slightly beaten up and consisted of a couch, coffee table, a small desk and an old radio on a table in the corner. It was all he could afford just then but at least it was his own.
The only things he'd really splurged money on were a half dozen photographs on the wall. They were his own work, candid photographs taken of people around the city.
Langly made a noncommittal noise, his comment already forgotten, his thoughts elsewhere. "So where are my pictures?"
"In my files." Jimmy went over to the desk, pulled open the bottom drawer and flipped through a number of manila folders until he came to one labeled 'bills'. After his photos of Yves and Langly had been stolen, he decided not to take any chances. He grabbed the file and slipped the pictures out. "Here they are," said Jimmy, offering them to the Professor.
Langly snatched it from his hands and sat down on the couch, laying the photos on the coffee table.
"I'm going to go change," Jimmy told the professor. Langly said nothing as he studied the photos.
When Jimmy returned, he found Langly still squinting at the photos, trying to make out the tiny equations. After a minute he noticed the other man and slumped back against the couch. "I can't make out anything without my glasses," he groaned, rubbing his eyes. "Do you have a magnifying glass and a pencil?"
Jimmy retrieved the items from the desk.
"Thanks," Langly said absently.
Jimmy watched him for a few minutes as he alternately peered through the magnifying glass then scratched out notes on the backs of the photos, before the photograper became anxious to get back. He glanced at the clock. With horror he realized they had been gone far longer than he'd planned. If Dr. Scully hadn't noticed their absence by now…she would very soon.
And then she'd probably wake Frohike.
"Professor, we've got to get going," Jimmy said.
"In a minute," he murmured, hunched over a picture, "I just want to see if I can recreate this one part. I'm so close."
"Professor, please." Jimmy insisted, "You can do that when we get back to the morgue. I really think…."
Jimmy's ringing phone interrupted him, sounding strangely ominous.
Jimmy stared at the instrument. Who would be calling him so late?
It had to be Frohike.
Jimmy could only imagine how furious the older man must be. He wondered if Yves knew about their absence.
The phone rang again.
"You gonna answer that?" Langly asked, irritated by the noise.
Jimmy stepped toward the phone, knowing he was going to have to face Frohike's wrath sooner or later. He glanced at Langly who seemed to have the same thought.
The professor set the magnifying glass down. "Maybe we should go."
"Good idea." Jimmy breathed a sigh of relief. He had never wanted to leave his apartment so badly.
Langly quickly stood up, clutching the photos in his hand.
The ringing stopped.
In the abrupt silence, they heard a muffled, scratching noise. They turned together to stare at the door. The doorknob turned slightly until it caught on the lock. It was released as whoever was out in the hall tried again.
Jimmy held his breath hoping the intruder would get discouraged and leave. But he wasn't that lucky.
A loud thump was followed by the sound of splintering wood as the door burst open. Two men filled the doorway, the light from the hall obscuring their features until they moved inside.
One of the them, a barrel-chested man with thinning hair and a smarmy smile chuckled. "Professor Langly," he said sounding supremely satisfied, "I presume."
"Oh jeezus," Langly's voice quaked from behind Jimmy in a low, terrified voice. "It's that Fletcher guy."
"Stay behind me," Jimmy whispered as he moved protectively in front of the Professor. Even as he said it, he drew a blank as to how to accomplish this. He wished he had a weapon, anything to fend off these two invaders.
He hadn't been prepared to shoot to kill when Yves asked him. He still wasn't but there had to be something he could do.
Fletcher's smile widened. "Take him," he snapped to his companion, a huge man who had the appearance of a battle scarred rottweilier.
The rottweilier flicked a dismissive glance at Jimmy before lunging at Langly. The professor uttered a startled sound and leapt backwards, crashing against the wall. A stunned expression filled his face and he clutched his side where the pain from his new stitches reminded him how deadly this situation could be.
Jimmy didn't think; he just acted. He bent low and slammed into the big man. Using his own strength and speed, Jimmy tackled him to the floor, hard. The rottweilier made a sound like 'uhh' and then gasped for breath, the wind having been knocked out of him.
"Run, Professor!" Jimmy shouted.
Langly hesitated only a second. He darted toward the door, his heart pounding insanely hard in his chest. He kept his gaze glued on the door and freedom but out of the corner of his eye he saw Morris Fletcher reaching out to nab him.
And go down, sprawling on the floor.
"Let go of me you buffoon!" Fletcher yelled at Jimmy who was laying half off the goon, and clutching Fletcher's leg in a death grip.
"GO!" Jimmy yelled. "Professor!" He breathed a momentary sigh of relief as he saw Langly run out of the apartment.
The rottweilier groaned, started to move.
Until then, Jimmy's only thoughts were to make sure the Professor escaped but now he worried about his own safety. He released Fletcher's leg and rolled away from the goon. He scrambled to his feet, noting two things: Fletcher didn't appear concerned and the rottweilier was on his knees, an acidic glare on his stony face.
Jimmy dashed for the door but skidded to a stop even before he stepped out into the hallway, horrified to see the Professor being led back into the apartment by another man who had a firm grip on his upper arm and a gun to his temple.
"I think you lost something," the man said in a snide tone to Fletcher.
Fletcher merely got to his feet and brushed nonexistent dirt off his suit. "And you seem to have found it, Alex." His gaze skimmed to Jimmy. "Any more heroics from you," Fletcher said, "and the Professor will have an unfortunate accident."
"Don't hurt him," pleaded Jimmy. "He didn't do anything to you."
"No, he didn't" Fletcher agreed.
"Then why do all this? It doesn't make sense."
"You can't possibly be that naïve," Fletcher sneered. He glanced at Jimmy and chuckled. "Or maybe you are. The answer of course is money with the added bonus of revenge." He sent an assessing gaze on Langly. "How does it feel to be bait?"
"It stinks," Langly shot back.
"Take him to the car," Fletcher ordered. Krycek looked as if he were going to say something but instead pushed Langly ahead of him.
"No!" Jimmy shouted, taking a step after them.
The thug grabbed his arm, yanking it behind his back and up. The thug grinned when Jimmy cried out in pain and fury. "What about him?" Rottweilier asked Fletcher.
Fletcher smirked making Jimmy shiver. "He can deliver a couple of messages for me."
Jimmy strained against the vice like grip that confined him. "I'm not your errand boy," he growled. The rottweilier twisted his arm hard, sending arrows of pain slicing through him.
"Temper, temper," Fletcher said, chuckling, his grin spreading wider over his face. "Has anyone told you that you really should work on that?" The humor faded from his expression. "Not only will you deliver a message to that P.I. Frohike but one to that harlot…"
"Harlow," Jimmy said without thinking. "Her name is Harlow."
The fist to his gut was like a cannonball. Jimmy's breath whooshed from him. He doubled over, gasping for air.
"The boss don't like being interrupted," the rottweilier advised then leaned in close and, as Jimmy struggled to breath, whispered menacingly in his ear. "Not a very nice feeling is it: not being able to catch your breath? I could make that permanent."
All the while, the rottweilier never let up the pressure on his shoulder and Jimmy wondered though the black haze of pain if the thug would break his arm for the sheer enjoyment of it. The thug jerked him upright, nearly ripping Jimmy's arm from his socket.
"As I was saying," Fletcher continued, all trace of his previous humor missing. "You will also pass on a message to Harlow."
"What is it?" Jimmy asked, subdued now. The anger was still there, simmering somewhere inside him but the fear was thick and deep like quicksand; if he said the wrong thing or moved the wrong way, he was good as dead.
"Co-operation," Fletcher said, nodding his head in approval. "That's more like it." He took several steps toward Jimmy. "We're going to have a nice little chat, you and me. Afterwards Lenny here will discuss a few things with you. Just to make sure you understand the score."
That horrible smile spread across Fletcher's face again.
