FALLEN ANGEL (1x10)
Over the years, Max Fenig had plenty of experiences that aligned with the phrase 'don't meet your idols.' William Shatner rolled his eyes when he'd asked him for an autograph as a kid, Robert Stack almost hit him with a car (that might've been an accident, but he was skeptical), and his letter to Rod Serling was returned to sender just a little too quickly for Max's liking. His mom said it was bad luck, but Max just accepted the fact he had a tendency to set his hopes a little too high and he destined himself to be let down.
Last night proved there's an exception to every rule.
The minute he laid eyes on the man in the cell next to his, he was almost positive it was the legendary M.F. Luder. He'd seen his picture once in a magazine, and even though it was a couple of years ago, the man had a distinguished profile.
Ever since reading his article in the Omni, he tried learning all he could about the man. He even knew a guy who knew a guy who heard M. F. Luder, Fox Mulder, worked closely with the men who curated the Lone Gunmen publication every month. He owned every edition, and after scouring through them, Max was fairly certain Fox Mulder wrote in some of his favorite articles using the name George Hale.
Despite his excitement at seeing one of his idols in action, he didn't want to come across as overzealous. Plus, he'd just watched an underground documentary about shapeshifters that made him worry this might be too good to be true. While it was plausible he might run into Mulder under these circumstances, he also knew they knew he knew that it was plausible. It would be the perfect scenario to trick him into revealing more than he should.
But if it was the real Mulder, Max wanted to impress him, to let him know he knew his stuff too. Unfortunately playing it cool wasn't really his nature, and he couldn't help quoting one of his favorite F.M. Luder lines. "Trust no one." He'd written that in the September 1993 edition of the Gunmen, and Max couldn't get over how gnarly it sounded.
Sure, he didn't get a chance to see as much of the crash site as he'd wanted, but getting to spend hours picking Mulder's brain was just as exhilarating. He knew his buddies would say he just didn't have anything better to do, but it felt like he really cared. Usually when Max started getting excited, people would cut him off, but Mulder just listened. Sometimes Max felt himself stammering because he wasn't used to talking for so long, and he felt himself getting flustered to the point the backs of his ears felt hot, but for one of the first times in his life, he felt like he wasn't annoying anyone.
It didn't feel right to admit he knew who Mulder was after an hour in, but he could barely contain his curiosity when he alluded to his work on The X-Files. It felt like the piles of expense report copies and miscellaneous news articles were coming to life. He had to bite his tongue a few times from filling in details he already knew about some of his cases, but hearing them from Mulder's perspective was fascinating.
For the past few months, Max and his associates noticed a change in the expense reports. Two motel rooms instead of one, the food bill was higher, he stopped for gas more often than he usually did. It was obvious someone had been sent to spy on him.
Well, maybe not so obvious. When Mulder mentioned his partner, there didn't seem to be any traces of hostility or judgment like Max assumed there might be. Honestly, it was a little hard to keep up with. He was pretty sure he heard Mulder say his partner, named Scully like the baseball announcer, conducted autopsies. Yet she was a field agent. Max didn't want to ask for clarification and make it seem like he wasn't paying attention, but the woman Mulder described so fondly seemed intimidating. Max realized the tonal shifts in some of the documents he'd gotten a hold of must've been a result of Mulder wanting to impress her.
After a while, the guards told them to shut up and go to bed, and he was left in the dark whispering to Mulder like kids at a sleepover. At least- he imagined it was like a sleepover. He wasn't sure how much time passed, but eventually, his whispers were met with silence and snores as Mulder slept. Only then, in the cover of night, did Max Fenig finally release the beaming smile he'd been holding in all night.
Mulder was still asleep by the time Max was released, but he had to wait for the guards to find his belongings before he could leave. While he was waiting, a young woman burst into the room with so much confidence that he presumed she worked there. It wasn't until he watched her eyes quickly scan the room that he caught a glimpse of her worry. He couldn't hear her conversation very well, but it sounded like her husband was detained. As the guards sorted out whatever they needed to, the petite woman kept nervously switching between glancing at her watch and picking at her nails. She didn't seem to take note of Max, but most people didn't, especially when they were as pretty as she was.
He got his stuff back while the woman was waiting. Max hoped the guards would be too preoccupied with her by the time Agent Scully got there to bail Mulder out so that he'd have more time to search the agent's motel room. Even though he was pretty certain he was the real Mulder, he just wanted to make sure. Better to be safe than tricked by a very convincing shapeshifter.