Value & Honor
by Forte
(Forte1354@aol.com)

Please see Chapter 1 for rating, summary, disclaimer, etc.

Looking for prior chapters?  They're available at
http://www.fortunecity.com/lavender/diaz/705/forte.html.


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- Chapter 10b -

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As she entered the living room Mulder was pacing in front of the
fireplace, head bowed, both hands on his hips.  A quick scan of the
room told Scully that his cell phone was near his jacket on her
couch, looking like it had been flung there carelessly.  Mulder
stopped pacing and turned her way when she walked in, his expression
apologetic.  "Sorry, Scully, I didn't mean to -- "

"It's all right, Mulder."  She cut him off in a rush of syllables,
neither wanting nor needing the apology.  She shoved the pad of
paper into his hands and continued past him toward the computer on
her desk.  "The Gunmen broke the encryption."

There was a pause before Mulder responded with a drawn out, "How?"

Scully couldn't see his face as she knelt under the desk to flip on
the PC's surge suppressor, but by his incredulous tone she knew his
countenance had been replaced with a surprised but happy one. 
  As she stood
up, a corner of her mind realized with satisfaction that the look on
his face wasn't nearly as priceless as the one he'd had when he
opened his poster.  She pushed the thought away -- later, she told
herself -- as she booted up the computer and summarized how the
Gunmen broke the encryption.

"The first three messages -- they're fairly clear," she continued,
turning to watch her partner's concentration as he scanned the
writing on the pad.  "The last one is less obvious."

Mulder pointed to the pad in his hand.  "This third message -- the
ten thirty p.m. -- why are the numbers duplicated?"

"Frohike thought it was just an error in the transmission."

Mulder paused as he considered that information, then shrugged and
looked up at her.  "So we're supposed to meet someone named George
T. at ten thirty p.m. Saturday -- meaning tonight.  This last
message -- red, green, park -- must be the 'where'.  Any ideas?"

"Nothing yet beyond the obvious -- the meeting place is a park.  The
red and green doesn't mean anything to me, though."  She turned and
sat at her computer, now ready, clicked the mouse a few times, then
typed a few words.  "Let's see what a search of the 'net turns up." 
She picked up her glasses from the desk and slipped them on.  "We
know we're looking for a location in the northeastern U.S., maybe
southeastern Canada."

Mulder moved to her right side, tossed the pad of paper onto the
desk, and leaned over, forearm resting near the mouse pad.  He
draped his left arm across the back of Scully's chair.  Was it her
imagination, or was he invading her personal space more than usual? 
Before she could decide, the PC's screen filled with the search's
first twenty matches.

"I searched for a match on red, green, park -- all three words,"
Scully said, scanning the page, then flipping through the next few
screens before returning to the first.  "I didn't see anything
relevant after the first screen; did you?"  She turned her head
toward Mulder, nearly bumping noses with him; he shook his head in
answer to her question.

"I saw three possibilities on this first screen in the geographic
area we need," he commented, holding Scully's gaze for a split
second before she cleared her throat and turned back to the screen.

"And none of them are parks in the traditional sense," she added,
silently damning her quickened pulse.  Not now, not now...  She
clenched her jaw, determined to give her full attention to their
search, and tapped the monitor twice with a slender index finger. 
"Red Beam Parking Garage at T.F. Green Airport in Warwick, Rhode
Island.  Baseball's Fenway Park, home of the Boston Red Sox and the
Green Monster -- "

"That's the wall out in left field," Mulder supplied, his tone
helpful.

Scully threw him a quick, exasperated 'yes Mulder, I knew that'
look.  "And the third," she gestured toward the screen with her
chin, "the website for the Massachusetts Bay Transportation
Authority.  How does red, green, park fit in there?" she mused,
clicking on the site's link.  The top of the home page had "MBTA" in
bold letters, the "T" black inside a white circle, the other three
letters fire-engine red with a thin black outline.  But what drew
Scully's attention was what appeared to be part of a multi-colored
subway map in the upper left-hand corner of the page.

"Red and green," Mulder said, leaning close to Scully to jab at the
corner of the screen.  He pulled back his hand and placed it over
Scully's on the mouse, guiding the cursor towards the 'schedules and
maps' icon and clicking on it.  A second click brought up a map of
the subway system.  Scully glanced down at her hand, hoping Mulder
hadn't noticed her tiny, involuntary tensing at the pleasant warmth
of his touch.  She returned her eyes to the monitor -- pay
attention, Dana! -- as Mulder removed his hand to poke at the screen
again.

"Boston's subway system has four color-coded lines," he said.  "Red,
green, blue, and orange -- "

"And the Red and Green Lines intersect at a station called Park
Street," Scully finished, following his gesture to the station name
on the screen.

Mulder nodded.  "Park Street station is right at the edge of Boston
Common.  We used to go up to Boston sometimes when I was a kid. 
Last time I got to wander around there was in early ninety-five. 
Remember when I went up to Worcester for a couple days?  For those
follow-up interviews at Excelsius Dei?"

Scully flicked her eyes from the map, to her partner, and back to
the map.  She had to stay focused on sorting out this red-green-park
mystery, not think about... anything else.  "Mmm, I remember.  I had
such a bad cold that week, I couldn't fly up with you."

Out of the corner of her eye, Scully saw Mulder nod.  "When I was
done with the interviews I spent half a day in the Boston field
office doing paperwork, making copies, that sort of thing."

"No doubt endearing yourself to the local agents in the process,"
Scully said, turning toward her partner again with a small smile.

"Scully, you wound me," Mulder replied, feigning hurt.  "I'll have
you know I bought two boxes of Girl Scout cookies and three raffle
tickets while I was there.  In fact, one of those raffles won me a
pair of tickets to a Celtics playoff game.  Pissed me off that we
were on a case and couldn't use them -- I wound up giving them to
one of the agents up there.  So I made us quite a few friends in the
Boston office."

Scully gave him a small nod of approval.  "I'll keep that in mind." 
She turned her attention back to the monitor.  "So we have three
possibilities," she mused.  "A subway station, a parking garage, and
a ball park.  I'm sure Kurt has done his homework on us, so he'd
know you're a sports fan.  That would make Fenway Park the obvious
choice."

Mulder nodded again.  "I would have thought of that eventually even
without an Internet search."

"Mmm."  Scully pursed her lips, turning the idea around in her head.
 Something just didn't seem right.  It shouldn't have been so easy.

Mulder studied her look of concentration.  "What is it, Scully?"

Scully faced her partner again, frowning.  "Fenway seems =too=
obvious, doesn't it?  The Gunmen said that the method of encryption
was very simple... so simple that they hadn't thought of it earlier.
 Instead, they took the 'obvious' route, which was to look for a
very sophisticated encryption method."  She gestured toward the pad.
 "This red-green-park message could be similarly deceptive."

"Deliberately obvious to mislead anyone who intercepted the
messages," Mulder said slowly.  "The answer is in front of us, but
it's not the first one we think of."  He grinned.  "Scully, you're
getting to be as paranoid as I am -- looking for subterfuge and
hidden meanings in everything we see."

Scully gave him a look of mock disapproval.  "Paranoia has nothing
to do with it, Mulder.  I applied logic and reasoning to the
evidence at hand."  She paused for a moment.  "So discarding Fenway
as a meeting place, we have two remaining possibilities.  Since you
know the area, you can take the Park Street station; I can go to the
parking garage in War -- "

"No," Mulder cut in, climbing to his feet stiffly, hands on hips
again.  "We shouldn't -- "  He stopped himself and paused.  His
posture softened as he looked down at the ground, then back up at
his partner.  His voice lowered in volume.  "We shouldn't have to
split up, Scully.  Like I said, the answer is in front of us -- we
just have to figure out what it is."  He leaned over and snatched up
the pad of paper from the desk, his other hand still on his hip,
lower lip edged out in a frustrated pout.

Scully stared back at him, head tilted a few degrees to the side,
eyebrows raised.  < What is with him today?>  He'd all but whined
that morning when she'd told him that she was going to the Hoover
Building to finish the Morse report.  But he'd retreated when she'd
pushed back, explaining that she needed to work on it alone.  Would
a calm, rational dialogue once again win over her paranoid partner? 
She drew in a slow breath, glancing down at her watch then returning
her gaze to him.

"Mulder."  She paused.  Mulder didn't respond, seemingly absorbed in
the words on the paper.  A sigh of exasperation come from the back
of her throat.  "Mulder, it's twenty to three.  We have to be in New
England in less than eight hours.  At this point, our only option is
to fly -- "

"Which gives us plenty of time to figure out what we're missing,"
Mulder interrupted, without looking at her.

Scully had a vague sense that her partner was holding something
back, but pressed forward with her argument.  "If we wait too long
the flights may be sold out."  She gestured toward the kitchen
table.  "As good as those ID's that Frohike made are... the less
time those phony names rattle around in a computer somewhere, the
better."  Scully paused again, and again got no reaction from her
partner.  She pressed her lips into a thin line before continuing. 
"Mulder, I think we should get to the airport as soon as possible. 
Buy tickets for the first flight to either Boston or Warwick.  We
can try to figure out where to meet this 'George T' en route."

"And if we fly to the wrong place?" Mulder challenged, still not
looking at her.

"Boston and Warwick are only about an hour's drive apart," she
replied, forcing a calm tone around her frustration.  "And if we
need to, we can still cover both locations at ten thirty."

Mulder shook his head, making no attempt to hide his own
frustration.

< =What= is the problem, Mulder?>  Scully re-phrased that thought,
but still heard the exasperation spill out in her words.  "Mulder,
is there an issue with us covering different locations?"

Mulder clenched and released his jaw.  "Half an hour, Scully.  Just
give me that much time, okay?"

Scully bit the inside of her lip to hold back a sharp response,
watching him as he continued to stare at the words in front of him. 
He was concentrating, looking as determined as he had when he'd been
working on the profile for Jack Morse.  She watched him run down the
list, mouthing the words as he read them.  Trying to force them to
fit together the way he'd tried to make sense of the senseless
actions of a killer.

Sometimes... Mulder's obsession with a goal could be utterly
infuriating.  Scully turned back to the PC and studied the subway
map for a moment, taking a deep, quiet breath.  < Come on, Dana,
you're both on edge, and he has a point.  There's an answer to be
found, and one of you is staring at it.>  She clicked on the "back"
key to return to the MBTA's main page.  "The only message that seems
ambiguous is the red-green-park," she announced, matter-of-fact. 
"I'll see if I can find anything else on these sites."

When he didn't acknowledge her olive branch, she looked over her
shoulder, her frustration at his reticence growing anew.  For a
split second she saw him looking at her, but as she turned he
shifted his gaze to the monitor, appearing... concerned? 
guilt-ridden?  She wasn't sure.  But then the look disappeared; his
head cocked to one side and he blinked.

"Scully... look at that."  Scully followed his gaze to the screen. 
Mulder leaned over as he had earlier, one arm again across the back
of her chair.  He tapped at the MBTA lettering at the top of the
screen with a knuckle, holding the pad of paper tucked in his palm. 

"That symbol, Scully -- the black 'T' in the white circle -- it's at
the entrance of every subway station in Boston.  The locals refer to
the subway as the 'T'," he said, a spark to his voice.  He
straightened, standing the pad against the monitor, and pointed at
the 'George T' Scully had transcribed.  "The 'T' in this message --
it isn't part of the name.  It's telling us where the meeting place
is!"

Scully felt Mulder's eyes on her as she looked at the messages on
the pad, then up at the monitor, then back to the messages.  "It
fits," she agreed, nodding slowly.  She turned back towards her
partner, meeting his eyes.  "Some of the best medical research
facilities in the world are in Boston.  It would be an ideal place
for Scanlon, and the Kurts, to work."

Mulder nodded, then looked at his watch, narrowing his eyes in
thought.  "Why don't you find out about flights to Boston," he said,
moving towards the couch.  "I'm going back to the office for a
little while."

Scully swung further around in her chair to track him with her eyes,
brow creasing.  "Why are you going back to the office?"

Mulder picked up his cell phone and jacket, shoving the phone into
one of the pockets, not looking at her.  "That was Diana that called
before."

Scully stood, considered her response, nodded her head once.  The
adrenaline jitters were coming back, but she forced her voice to be
even.  "I heard that part."

Mulder glanced up at her before turning his attention back to his
jacket, pulling out a thick wad of cash.  Scully tried to read his
expression, but it was neutral.  Although he couldn't see it, she
arched her eyebrows.

"She asked me to meet her."  He moved to the kitchen table, Scully
following until she was a few paces away from him.  Mulder placed
the money on the table, then looked at her again.  "That's about
half the cash I got from the Gunmen," he added, pulling on the
jacket.

Now he had that concerned/guilty look again, Scully noted.  And if
Mulder was going to delay their departure for Boston, something
serious was going on.  "Why does she want you to meet her?"

He placed his hands on his hips.  "She wouldn't give me details over
the phone, but she said she received a disturbing e-mail at the
office... something that indicates that lives may be in danger, and
she thinks I'll know something about it."

"Why you?"

He shook his head.  "She wouldn't say.  She just said it was urgent
that I come to see this e-mail she received."

In the span of a few seconds, Scully waged an internal debate.   one side of her demanded.
 The other side responded, 

"Look, Scully," Mulder spoke up, interrupting her thoughts.  She met
his gaze.  "After..."  He paused, looked at the ground, and then
back up at her.  "After yesterday... I know Diana isn't your
favorite person right now.  Believe me, she's not mine either.  But
you know I can't let my personal feelings interfere with responding
to a potential threat."  He paused again, as though waiting for her
reaction.  But she wanted to hear what else he had to say, so she
out-waited him.  "This won't take long," he continued, still looking
her in the eye.  "Diana knows damn well that she can't get me
involved in anything, not in an official way, without going through
Kersh first.  So I'll look at whatever this thing is, give her my
opinion, and get the hell out of there.  I'll go home, I'll pack,
and we'll still have plenty of time to get to Boston."

< He's right... so why is he still looking uncomfortable?>  Scully
inhaled and nodded, but still needed to force calm into her voice. 
"Fine.  I'll check out what flights are available and call you."

Mulder half-smiled, half-grimaced and turned back to the kitchen
table.  Scully walked around to the opposite side, still trying to
read him, and laid her hands on the top of one of the chairs.  She
watched Mulder scoop up his ID's, leaving hers on the table, and
tuck them in an inside pocket of his jacket.  Next he grabbed the
paper sack with their lunches, removed a drink and a bag of chips,
and deposited them on the table.  Then he pulled out a wrapped
sandwich and looked up at her.

"Liverwurst."

She stared at him.  What...?

"Joke.  Turkey, lettuce, and tomato."  He laid it on the table.

Tucking her chin, Scully squeezed her eyes shut and bit back a
smile, remembering the joke's grim origin.  But she knew Mulder's
attempt to break the tension between them was just a diversion; she
still didn't know what was going on with him.  And she didn't know
how to ask without bringing up Diana Fowley -- the one subject she
didn't trust herself to address calmly at the moment.  They could
talk about it later, maybe on the flight to Boston, she decided. 
She willed her clenched jaw to relax, then lifted her head and eyes.

She found Mulder studying her again.  She watched him shift his eyes
down to the paper sack as he rolled the top closed.  He picked up
the bag, turned toward the door, then stopped as something on the
table caught his eye.

He picked up the rolled poster, flashing a full smile this time. 
"Thanks again, Scully."  He turned to look at her, and she gave him
a small smile in return.

"You're welcome again."

"I can't tell you..." he started, then faltered, and didn't
continue.  To Scully's amazement, his face flushed a pale shade of
pink as his smile faded.  He swallowed, but said nothing more.

"I'll call you as soon as I've got the flight information," Scully
said finally, voice gentle.

Mulder hesitated, then nodded, and turned back toward the door. 
Then he looked down at the poster in his hand and slowed his step,
stopping about three feet from the door.  Growing concerned, Scully
watched him, his back to her.  But as she was about to speak his
name he let himself out, not looking back, turning the deadbolt and
doorknob awkwardly with the hand that held his lunch.

Scully stared at the door for a few seconds, confused by the
friction and awkwardness that had arisen between them.  Was it
Diana's call?  The trip to Boston?  Something else?  Scully looked
down at herself, realized she still had her coat on, and shrugged it
off.  She shivered at the early November chill in the air, draped
the coat over the back of the kitchen chair, and went to the
thermostat to push up the heat. 

Despite having no evidence that the timing of Agent Fowley's call
was anything but a coincidence, Scully couldn't shake the feeling --
the same as she had had after the incident at that nuclear power
plant in Arizona -- that something wasn't right.  < "I hope you
haven't been betrayed."> she'd said to Mulder, after Agent Fowley
had submitted her report to OPR.  He was convinced he hadn't been. 
Agent Fowley was protecting the X-Files, he'd said.  Even Fowley's
verbal attack on her the prior morning was, Fowley claimed, borne
out of a desire to protect the work.  Was her insistence on seeing
Mulder more of the same -- whatever "same" really was?

Scully returned to her desk and pulled up a website to check flights
to Boston, still fighting the uneasy feeling.  She felt the knots in
her shoulders tightening again, and decided it was time for more
Tylenol.  She stood and moved toward the kitchen, lost in thought.

< "You're not worth it.">  She'd said that to Fowley the previous
morning in the kitchen of the Hoover building, refusing to concern
herself with the other Agent's pettiness.

Was there something worthy of her concern after all?


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- end Chapter 10b -

Next: Chapter 11

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Author's note for Chapter 10:  if you're interested in seeing it,
the MBTA website that Mulder and Scully visited is at www.mbta.com.


Feedback is cherished at Forte1354@aol.com or bjm1352@aol.com.