TITLE: Value & Honor
AUTHOR: Forte
E-MAIL ADDRESS: Forte1354@aol.com or bjm1352@aol.com
RATING: strong R
CATEGORY: XA
SPOILERS: All over the place, through The Beginning (US Season 6),
including Fight the Future. Author's Notes includes a spoiler for
Alpha.
KEYWORDS: UST, hint of MSR, MulderAngst, ScullyAngst, mythology.
Secondary character death.
SUMMARY: When Mulder and Scully face past and present evils,
"value" and "honor" are proven to be both nouns and verbs.
TIMEFRAME: Early in US Season 6, after The Beginning but before
Triangle.
ARCHIVE: Gossamer/Ephemeral/Xemplary OK; anywhere else please ask
first.
DISCLAIMER: Mulder, Scully, et al. don't belong to me. They belong
to His Majesty Chris Carter, 1013, and Fox. (And as far as I'm
concerned they belong to David and Gillian, too.) The only thing
that belongs to me is the bill I get from AOL each month. I'm
making no money off of this and intend no infringement. I write
with great love, reverence, and respect for all concerned.
FEEDBACK: Yes please -- it's better than chocolate! E-mail me at
Forte1354@aol.com or bjm1352@aol.com.
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS: If this fic is any good at all, it's because of
Jintian, beta reader extraordinaire, who taught me why adverbs are
(often) evil . She also told me what things worked and what
things didn't, and encouraged me to keep plugging along. All
writers should be as blessed as I am. Thank you from the bottom of
my heart! Thanks also to Risheloo, for telling me which ep Scully
references toward the end of this story. As promised, I've
immortalized you within this fic to thank you for saving my sanity.
And last but certainly not least, Virtual margaritas, Sno Caps,
and whatever else their little hearts desire to the Primal Screamers,
whose Season Six Wish Lists inspired this fic.
AUTHOR'S NOTES: This is a Work In Progress. Although I don't know
how many chapters I will ultimately have, I expect the total length
of this story to be around 250K. (Additional Author's Notes at end.)
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Value & Honor
by Forte
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"NO!"
Mulder fired.
But it was too late.
A thousand silent, instantaneous prayers, then the words no law
enforcement officer ever wants to speak or to hear:
"AGENT DOWN!"
********************************************************************
60 hours earlier
J. Edgar Hoover Building
Washington, DC
Friday, 8:20 a.m.
With eyes shut and elbows on her desk in the bullpen, Scully
massaged the inside edges of her eyebrows with her thumbs and sighed
-- but only loud enough for Mulder to hear.
They had arrested the suspect the previous morning, finally
returning home as dusk and exhaustion set in. Scully had cried as
she lay in bed, a release she rarely allowed herself but for this
case could not deny needing. All she had been able to see when she
had closed her eyes was the wiry man, straggly black hair obscuring
his face, hunched over a strangled 4-year-old. In all, five
pre-schoolers -- three girls, two boys -- had been brutally murdered
by the psychotic in Providence, Rhode Island.
And his reason?
"Because I felt like it." Accompanied by a shrug.
As though they had asked why he'd worn a blue shirt that day.
Even more than her partner, Scully grieved for the senseless waste
of innocent life. Those children never should have had to suffer
and die.
Scully sat up and rolled her neck slowly. She tried to unravel the
knots in her shoulders, borne of the anger twisting her stomach, but
without success.
Giving up, she opened her eyes, put her wire-rimmed glasses back on,
and turned back to her PC. Her nails clicked over the keyboard as
she continued to summarize her autopsy notes for their report to AD
Kersh. Over the top of her lenses, she could see Mulder standing
and watching her with concern.
"Headache already, Scully? It's not even 9 a.m. yet."
She stopped typing and glanced around. The other agents in the
bullpen seemed engrossed in their own tasks. She turned her gaze to
her partner.
"Not =already=, Mulder. =Still=. The same one I went to bed with
last night."
Given the case they had just cracked, not even Mulder was in the
mood to follow up on that straight line.
Scully sighed again. "You know, Mulder, I would happily spend the
rest of my life making those damn fertilizer calls if it would
guarantee that there would never be anyone else like Jack Morse
walking the face of the Earth."
Mulder nodded, looking uncomfortable.
"Look Scully... I didn't get a chance to say anything while..." He
paused.
he berated
himself.
Mulder cleared his throat and tried again, his voice low. "I know
this case must have been..." he struggled for the right words,
"difficult for you...."
Scully's eyes widened for a moment, horrified at her partner's
choice of timing -- -- yet
grateful for his acknowledgment. Finally, she let them both off the
hook by looking back down at her keyboard and nodding. It was the
closest she could come to admitting to her partner just how much the
Morse case had bothered her.
Her head throbbed.
"Thank God Kersh let us go out there," Scully said finally, "or that
bastard would be looking for his next victim right now."
Mulder nodded again, half from agreement and half from relief at the
change of subject. "Well, you certainly get the gold star for
putting two and two together, Scully. You figured out from the
autopsy results where the son of a bitch was going to stalk his next
victim."
Scully looked up at him again. "I wouldn't have had the first 'two'
without your profile, Mulder."
She turned that thought around in her mind. Yes, they had worked
especially well together on this case. Her science and his
intuition had meshed perfectly, so unlike many of their other cases
where, although successful, they found themselves at odds with each
other. she wondered, then
dismissed her concern as a side effect of fatigue and her headache.
It was their way, and it worked.
Mulder's sigh interrupted her thoughts. "Well, I guess it's good to
know I still have some value, at least when every other profiler in
the Bureau is tied up with other cases."
Scully shook her head, her gaze intense. "You never lost your
value, Mulder. Other people lost the ability to see it."
Mulder blinked in surprise, then smiled warmly at the unexpected
compliment. He leaned over to within a few inches of her, and
brushed the edge of her shoulder with his fingertips. "Thanks,
Scully. It's comforting to know that there will always be at least
=one= person in the Fox Mulder fan club." He stood up again, still
smiling.
His comment pulled a wry smile from her lips. "Don't press your
luck, Mulder." She pushed her chair back and stood up. "I'm going
to get some coffee. You want some?"
"Yeah, thanks." He gestured toward his own desk. "I'm gonna try to
get my shit together for this report before we see Kersh at nine."
"Okay." Scully touched Mulder's arm briefly as she slid past him in
the narrow space between desks, and then headed down the hall
towards the floor's kitchen area.
********************************************************************
Scully's heels clicked on the tile floor of the kitchenette.
"Figures," she grumbled at the three coffee pots, each holding
one-half inch of dregs. "If I ever get my hands on the people who
take the last of the coffee without starting a new pot..."
Scully contemplated various forms of retribution as she emptied and
rinsed one of the carafes, dumped the old coffee grinds, and started
a fresh batch of coffee.
The throbbing in her head became stronger.
she told herself as the fresh coffee started to drip
through into the carafe. She took a deep
breath through her nose, and blew it out slowly through pursed lips.
Although Scully tried to focus on ideas for channeling her anger,
her mind kept returning to more unsettling thoughts.
<... the five children that already died...>
<... the carnage...>
<... little children had to suffer...>
"Suffer the little children that come unto me," Scully murmured. As
the coffee drip slowed to a trickle, she picked up a Styrofoam cup
and turned it around in her hands absently. She thought of Emily,
for only the thousandth time since she and Mulder had started on the
case a week before.
"A sick bastard," she told the cup.
**Throb**
Scully was startled out of her thoughts by a cheerful voice that
came from behind her.
"Good morning, Agent Scully."
Scully turned. <=Just= what I need right now.> She suppressed a
scowl, and instead nodded a non-committal greeting. "Agent Fowley."
"I understand that congratulations are in order, Agent Scully,"
Diana Fowley said, smiling. The dark-haired woman grabbed a cup and
reached around Scully for the pot of fresh coffee, moving too far
into her personal space for Scully's liking.
Scully eyed her, one eyebrow up. Fowley poured herself a cup of the
dark brew, then set the carafe down on the burner again.
"How so, Agent Fowley?" Scully asked, with a calm she didn't feel.
"Your autopsy work resulted in the arrest of a child killer," Fowley
replied. "In remarkably short time, in fact. Your skill and
dedication are commendable."
"It was a joint effort between my partner and me," Scully said
evenly, forcing herself to not place emphasis on =my partner=. "As
it always is."
**Throb**
"And how is Fox?" Fowley asked. "I never see him anymore, now that
you two are on this floor."
"He's fine."
**Throb**
"You know," Fowley said, in a conspiratorial tone, "I'm aware that
Fox must not be particularly thrilled in your... current assignment.
I hope he's not taking his frustrations out on you. He can be very
=child=ish." She drew out the 'i' sound in 'child' for emphasis.
"I hadn't noticed that tendency in him," Scully lied. "I've always
found him to be the consummate professional."
**Throb**
Realizing that she was still holding an empty cup, Scully filled it,
then started to add powdered creamer as Fowley spoke again.
"I know you haven't asked for my advice, Agent Scully, but if he
=does= start acting up, I would suggest that you not..." She
paused, then finished the sentence with a hint of a smirk. "=Baby=
him."
Scully blinked hard, reached for a plastic spoon from the box on the
counter, and stirred her coffee aggressively. That was her second
reference to...
Could Fowley possibly be making jokes about the Morse case? Could
she be so insensitive?
"I'm sure he was glad to have that case to work on, to be able to
stop that madman," Fowley continued. "Fox always had a soft spot
for children. He'll be a fine father for some woman's children
someday."
Scully heard herself say, "I'm sure he will."
**Throb**
Scully's mind tried to sort out the
bizarre conversation. She
turned that idea around in her head and dismissed it. With Mulder
and her in the bullpen making fertilizer calls, she was already as
much of an outcast in the Bureau as she could be.
That
was a more plausible explanation. But it didn't explain the "why".
"Well," Fowley said, glancing at her watch, "I'd better get going.
Agent Spender and I have a meeting with AD Skinner in a few minutes.
Shall I tell him you send your regards? I'm sure he misses working
with you and Fox." She smiled pleasantly.
Scully fought the urge
to clench her teeth, refusing to give Fowley any indication that her
words were causing anger. Instead, she grabbed another cup, this
one for Mulder. "Yes, thank you," she said evenly, pretending to
give the coffee her full attention as she filled the second cup.
Fowley paused as she turned to walk away, as though she had made a
decision about something. She leaned in towards Scully, and spoke
in a stage whisper.
"It's a good thing you're married to your work, Agent Scully. Who
would want a woman in your situation?"
At first Scully drew a blank at the other agent's
remark.
Then realization struck her like a physical blow.
A
chill ran down her spine.
Fowley was ridiculing her inability to have children.
For a long moment Scully stood shell-shocked, unable to process what
had just transpired or think of any kind of coherent response.
Fowley straightened again and fixed her with a contemptuous glare.
Then the chill in Scully turned into a burn; she contemplated
"accidentally" slipping and dousing Fowley with the pot of coffee
she held. And for that split second it was a =damn= attractive
idea. But she knew that a violent reaction was exactly what the
dark-haired agent was hoping for, had goaded her towards, and Scully
refused to give Fowley what she wanted.
Instead, she returned the pot to its burner and then leaned toward
Fowley's ear, to ensure that no one would overhear her words.
Unlike Fowley's, her voice was low.
"You're not worth it. And this conversation is over."
Without taking her narrowed eyes off of Diana Fowley's, Scully
picked up the two cups she had prepared and backed away. Finally
satisfied that she had moved far enough away from the other woman --
Scully wondered -- she turned on her heel
to head back to her desk.
And came face to face with Mulder.
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- end chapter 1 -
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