Chapter Eight
They drove back quietly, taking a back road. Scully was pondering something. Anne looked out at the window at passing scenery, still scrubby brown from winter, and occasionally at the rearview mirrors. Since Mulder never paid attention to what was in the mirrors, Anne saw them first.
"Dad, black sedan behind."
"Mulder!" Scully shouted at the same time as another black sedan, this one coming toward them, pulled across the road. Mulder braked.
"Shit," he commented in general.
The men in black-God, what a cliché-surrounded the car and one tapped the window.
"Sir, please step out of the car."
"If I ignore him, d'ya think he'll go away?" Mulder asked. Another tap, repeating the request more loudly. "Guess not."
"Federal agents," Scully said calmly as they were patted down. Well, except for Mulder, who had to make things more difficult and protest them going through his things. He was made to stand spread-eagle against the car after having his kidneys socked. Anne winced sympathetically.
One of the men got in her face. "Where the film?"
"Camera bag next to the briefcase," she glared back. "And take off those sunglasses, you look like a poofter," she added for the pure fuchsia shock.
Apparently he realized he'd just been called gay, because he scowled. Or maybe he just reacted that way to any kind of jeering tone so he didn't look totally stupid.
They ransacked the bag and pulled out a canister of film, which they exposed to the light, ruining it.
"Go home, agents," they were told. "And you too, little girl." Anne flipped him the bird. "You and your boyfriend in each other asses like dogs till you get stuck in that rut and have to be pulled apart by the paramedics, bitch."
The man to whom she directed that speech courteously returned her gesture. Satisfied that she'd irritated him, she dumped herself into the backseat again.
"Let's go back to the hotel. I want to run those plates," Scully yanked the seatbelt on fiercely.
. . . .
Scully hung up the phone. "Gail couldn't find anything on the plates."
Mulder was laying down, nursing his bruises. He shifted and sat up. "I'm not surprised."
"Now what?" Anne asked. "Case closed, since the Colonel's back home?"
It made sense to her, and Scully nodded. Mulder didn't.
"What about the UFOs?" he asked.
Anne rolled her eyes. "Dad, you can't solve the mystery of UFOs looking at one piece of the puzzle. We can take what we know back to DC and put it in context. With other sightings and so forth."
"She'd right," Scully agreed.
Mulder sighed. "Okay. I'm going to take a shower and change, and then we can go. Okay?"
Scully nodded. Anne felt the hair on the back of her neck stand directly on end. It only stood up on end preceding general stupidity in the immediate vicinity. She narrowed her eyes at Mulder, who slide away from her eyes and went outside, supposedly back to his hotel room.
Anne started to gather her things that had somehow landed in Scully's room-a random pair of socks to start. Her notebook, for another. Then-
"Dammit!" the car had started, and Anne crashed through the door just before Scully. Just in time that they both saw Mulder speed off in the rental car.
They looked at each other. Anne felt something hot under her eyes, angrily swiping at her face least anything hot escape.
"He's such a damn ditcher."
And Scully nodded. Giving a last glare at the road, Anne went back into Scully's room, surprised at her anger. After all, they weren't really family.