Amicable Intent

By: KatyBlue
katy2blue@aol.com


Date: Fri, 30 Jun 2000
RATING: PG-13
SPOILERS: Requiem
CLASSIFICATION: MSR, SA
DISCLAIMER:  Give 'em up, CC!!!  You've had your iron fist
of control on them long enough.  I'm only borrowing them
for the length of a story anyway.  Relax, already!
FEEDBACK: katy2blue@aol.com
ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS: To Meredith, who always manages to
improve my writing, to Toniann, for some great workplace
discussions ;) and for all the feedbackers, who keep me writing.
SUMMARY: the juxtaposition of well-meaning concern with the
more malevolent intent that can be found in the workplace.
***************************************************************************
Part (1/1)


I've got a lot resting in this pool.

She sits so primly, waiting to talk to her superior.  Our
superior, although on two completely different levels.  The
big man thinks he's everyone's superior.  But then, I
should cut him a break.  He's not so bad, as far as bosses
go.  I've heard stories from some of my coworkers that
would turn an administrative assistant's hair gray
overnight.

Besides, I know there are plenty of people he has to bow
down to.

She's folded her hands into her lap and is staring at the
wall now.  I don't think Agent Scully has any girlfriends.  
And for a second, I feel a twinge at what I'm about to do.  
But hey...it's not like she's ever gone out of her way for
me.  She's decent enough to me when she comes into the
big man's outer office, but it's not like she's all that
friendly.  Usually, she has someone else with her, holding
her attention.  They liked to talk, those two.  Murmuring
under their breath like I wasn't sitting right here,
hearing every word they said.  Well...every third word,
maybe.

She's never been that friendly toward much of anyone but
him and even he got the cold shoulder some days.

But he's gone.

I actually feel bad for her for a second.  She looks both
lost and angry as she sits there.  The emotions go back and
forth like a pendulum on her face.  As if she can't make up
her mind exactly how she feels.

I do know how it feels, honey.  You're not alone, though
you may like to pretend you are.

I've got a lot resting in this pool.  And it'd be a major
coup if I get the scoop on what's happening.  I don't mean
to be false with her or anything.  Maybe she does need a
friend right now.  I'm a good person.  I'm just concerned,
right?  I clear my throat.  "Agent Scully?"

She looks up from where she's staring at her hands.  
Turning her fingers over and examining her nails.  I'd bet
another large chunk of money that she's never been to a
professional manicurist.  A day of beauty would be an
unthinkable decadence for Doctor Dana Scully.  I mean,
the girl ought to have been born a man.

Then again, maybe I'm just jealous.  They say that blondes
have the most fun and I'm living proof of that.  But the
color of her hair is so stunning, it makes me think about
trying out that auburn rinse, even though I know I'd look
horrible.  And I can tell hers is real.  I'll be the first
woman big enough to admit she's beautiful.  There aren't
many female agents who can lay that claim.  Most of them
look like they just stepped out of a man-mold and fitted
themselves uncomfortably into the female gender.  She'd
blend in far better, looks-wise, with the women in the
secretarial pool, as this testosterone-filled building
still insists on calling us.  

But listen to me, promoting the myth of the dumb blonde and
her place in society.  Between the group of us, I swear
we've got more smarts than all the agents combined.  To the
group of mostly male agents, however, we're nothing but a
bunch of secretaries.  The 'administrative assistant' title
is reserved only for those moments of political
correctness, when they need to feign respect for our lowly
position in front of others.  

No doubt Agent Scully gets her fair share of the 'little woman'
machismo bullshit too.  The male agents treat female
agents here with only slightly more respect than us, and
they're probably subjected to some sort of terrible hazing
on top of that.  Female agents are definitely in the
minority in that group of penises, which is never a good
thing.  At least we mostly female administrative assistants
have each other and run our own majority.  It can't be easy
for her, all alone with the boy's club.

Regardless, she's a woman who gets the eye of every man and
woman in a room when she walks through.  Why?  Who knows?  
She's got something going for her.  It makes me a little
jealous and I know Virginia and Anna can't stand it.  Like
I said, at least I'm big enough to admit it.

I remind myself that the girls will be thrilled if I give
them a story at lunch.

"Heard anything?" I say carefully.  I try to make my voice
ooze with concern.

She looks at me like I'm from planet X.  Maybe that was the
wrong line of questioning to lead with.  I might be going
nowhere here.  I do know what's supposed to have happened
to Agent Mulder.  I typed up the big guy's deposition,
after all.  I read every sordid, unbelievable word of it.  
I know exactly what everyone is supposed to think about
Agent Mulder going up in a spaceship with a bunch of
aliens.

Right.

As if.

If you ask me, the two of them are part of some top secret
mission to convince the public to believe in the
paranormal.  A government project designed to make us all
look like a bunch of idiots.  I wouldn't be surprised if she
has Mulder stashed away somewhere, and they live high
off the hog on weekends, wining and dining on taxpayer
money.

I chastise myself briefly because I'm fairly sure her
sorrow is genuine.  She has dark circles under her eyes
most days now.  And she looks tired and worried.  Like
she's got the weight of the world on her shoulders.

Like Agent Mulder always used to look, despite her babying
of him.

That doesn't mean I have to believe the nutty alien part of
the whole story.  I do think the guy's really missing, but
who the hell knows where.  I'll bet you my boss has a few
answers to that disappearance.  I don't buy his whole 'this
is what I saw' story.  But then, I just type these things
up.  I don't have to believe them.  In fact, I'm supposed
to forget them as soon as they come out of my fingertips.
As if I could actually forget some wacko memo about Agent
Mulder being sucked up into an alien spaceship.  

I thought Walter had finally gone off his rocker but I'm
sure he's got some ulterior motive for it all.

Now, Agent Mulder's sorry puss sitting here in my office, I
do miss.  As does every other woman in the building.  I
swear to god at one time, I thought he was just a little
bit interested in me.  But then I'd watch Agent Scully
interact with him in here and think 'that one's got her
claws so far into him he's never getting clear'.  Besides
that, we all took a vote.  Don't think he was the only
man subjected to this.  The whole group of us just
love to rate all of these bozos over lunch.  It's harmless
fun.

I'm sorry to say that Agent Mulder didn't make the cut on
anyone's list.  There's no arguing that the man is easy on
the eye.  But all the baggage that seems to come with him
was a real turn off.  And he seems like such a know-it-all
sometimes.  Both of them.  Like they're the self-appointed
MENSA team of the FBI.  They do seem to be smarter than
most of the jerks around here.  But one time, he pointed
out a spelling error I made on a memo.  Can you imagine?  
If it'd been anything more weighty than a piece of paper,
I'd have clobbered him with it.

Over a pretty good turkey club in the cafeteria, Agent
Mulder got rated 'good to look at' but overall 'not good
for more than a quick roll in the hay', as they say.  He
does seem like he could be pretty intense, after all, but
no one needs that kind of intensity on a daily basis.  As a
group, we agreed to leave the man to Agent Scully.  Which
started a whole round of speculation that was, in fact, the
unofficial start of the pool.  It's no longer only a question
of when they started doing it, but has grown to include
the question I'm trying to get up the guts to ask her here.

Agent Scully is still staring at me in preparation to
answer my first question, which I'd almost forgotten about.  
It was just an opening gambit after all.  I'd have been one
of the first to know if they'd heard anything.

"No," she finally states coldly.  Suspiciously.  The word
is short.  Clipped.  The ice queen cometh.  Brrrrr, it's
chilly in here.  No wonder this woman has no friends.  I
think I've barely heard her say more than three words in a
row to me, and one word is probably the average.

Maybe she just likes to keep to herself.

Maybe she thinks she's better than me.

Now I feel stupid.  She and Mulder are both good at this
particular technique and it pisses me off.  Hey, I
graduated high school with good grades.  There's no cause
to look down at me, just because I'm not a doctor.  I'd
have done well in college, I'm sure.  I just got
sidetracked by a little something called a penis, attached
to an asshole of a man.  And here I am.

I try again.  "It must be tough without him."

Now she's looking at me.  Really looking at me.  As if
she's suddenly very aware that I'm here.  As if she's
surprised that I've spoken to her.  And I feel like the
worst kind of heel for what I see on her face.  She's
leaning forward a bit and maybe holding her breath.  And
she looks hopeful.  Like she thinks I might be the one to
tell her something that will make everything better.  Like
she believes, at any moment, she's going to speak to
someone who'll suddenly take all her pain away.  Her
hands are clenched together so tightly it looks painful.

I can't stand it.  I'm not sure I really want to like her.  
No doubt she and Mulder had a good laugh about that
spelling error in my memo.  I'm sure she thinks less of me
for not rising to her station in life.  These thoughts make
my next question easier to get out.  I lean forward too.  
"When's your due date?" I whisper conspiratorily.

I can't believe I asked it.  Virginia will be so thrilled.

She sits back suddenly and her face slams shut, like a door
just closed on me.  For a second, I wonder if I've
jeopardized my life and she's about to pull her gun.  But
then I correct my overactive imagination.  All I've
jeopardized is my job.  No doubt she'll run in there and
tattle to Skinner.  He's never written any memos on this
particular subject, but women notice these things.  Who the
hell is she to think a group of women won't be able to
discern something as simple as pregnancy?  So I'm already
getting my dander up in order to take on the wrath of my
boss for wronging his favorite agent and also defend the
perceptive abilities of women, all on account of her.

But she's leaning forward again, and this time her eyes are
narrowing at me, ready for battle as well.  I think I
might've just made an enemy.  "I'm hoping you abide by the
rules you're employed under, Kimberly," she states slowly.  
"Which include nondisclosure of all sensitive material you
become privy to through everyday exposure."

Yes!  Rumor as good as confirmed.  Wait until the girls
hear this one!  I try to hide my excitement which isn't all
that difficult because I'm highly offended by her harsh
words.  She has a way with words, Agent Scully.  But her
holier-than-thou slip of the tongue is a delight this time.  
I can't wait to tell Virginia that she used the phrase
'sensitive material you become privy to through everyday
exposure.'  I can just hear Virginia's response.  "I'll bet
she came into contact with some pretty sensitive material
of Agent Mulder's via everyday exposure."  God, they're
going to love this one!  I need to write it down so I won't
forget it.  Jeannie will probably bring out her desk
mileage theory again.  She always takes it to the most
graphic degree.  And funny!  That girl can make you laugh
your ass off picturing it.

But I'm still a little mad about the jab.  I am somewhat
proud of what I do, after all.  "Agent Scully, I am a
professional," I say loudly.  "I do my job well and I
resent your allegations," I add.  I was a legal secretary
before this, so I know some of those big words she's so
fond of throwing around.

Agent Scully is biting her bottom lip now.  She looks like
a little kid.  She's staring down at her hands again.  "I'm
sorry," she says suddenly.  She sounds almost breathless.  
And I can hardly believe she's apologizing.  It ruins
everything.  This would be so much easier if I didn't
suddenly feel bad for her.  "I do trust that you're a
professional, Kimberly," she says quietly.  "Forgive me."

Oh, crap.  It almost makes me feel like I can't tell the
girls what I've just confirmed.  Almost.  She knows I type
Skinner's memos and she must think I believe the whole deal
with Mulder.  The spaceship taking him up, up and away.  
She must think I truly understand her moping face, as if no
one else in the world has ever suffered like her.  As if no
one else has it rough around here.  And she must think I
know about the baby because of Skinner.  So this adds
another yummy detail to her tale of woe and lets me in on
the fact the big boss in there knows too.  More juicy
information to share and speculate on with my friends.  

Oh my god.  I realize suddenly that her eyes are watering
as she regards me.  For a second, I'm horrified.  She
thinks I truly care.  She's about to turn into a basket
case here in my office.  Maybe she'll confess everything.  
Every sordid detail.  Maybe I'll even hear what it's like
to have Mulder's body covering hers on a desk.

It makes me feel bad.  I do care a little.  I mean, she's a
person too.  She hasn't ever been a friend to me but if I
think hard, she's never really done anything unkind to me
either.  Except ignore me every once in a while.  But I'd
ignore her too if I was sitting on that couch with the
undivided attention of Agent Mulder, to be honest.

Then she saves me from my own guilt.  I should have known
she wouldn't break down.  The tears are gone almost as
quickly as they came.  She opens her mouth to speak and I
forget all about feeling bad because I can't believe the
words that come out.  "I've got six months to go," she says
quietly.  Her gaze, when it greets mine, is earnest.  
Looking for the understanding she must think I'm feeling
before staring back down at her hands.

Holy mother of god, alleluia!  I can barely breathe.  I've
got the goods.  Not only that, I'm looking to win a serious
chunk of cash.  Virginia will be so incredibly livid!  I
try to control my delight at the huge piece of information
she's just unknowingly given me.  I should be hired as the
next Mata Hari by this ridiculous government.  I deserve
it.  I just got more information out of Agent Scully than
anyone except that missing partner of hers has probably
ever been able to.

"That's wonderful," I say, for lack of thinking of anything
better to blurt out.  "You must be excited."

She just looks at me.  Her eyes come up and they look...I
don't know...dead or something.  Not what a pregnant woman
is supposed to look like.  No glow there.  Nothing
particularly happy.  In fact, she looks puzzled for a
second by my response.  And then resigned.  She's shutting
herself off again.  "Yes."  Her voice is barely a murmur.  
Unconsciously, I think, she puts a hand on her stomach.  
And then she surprises me with a small, wistful smile, down
in that direction.

Oh my god, what an opportunity this provides...  

***********************************************************************
End Part (1/2) Continued in Part (2/2)

**********************************************************************
Part (2/2)


It just doesn't get any better than this.

I can barely speak.  I'm tripping over my own tongue, I'm
so eager to get this one out.  "I'm sorry about Agent
Mulder..." I stammer, like I haven't already said that to
her a number of times.  But this is it.  My big opportunity.  
The coup de grace.  The whole enchilada.  "It must be
hard not to have the father of the baby around through
all this..."

Her eyes fly up to mine.  And I'm stunned again by my
own duplicity.  Because there it is again.  A hopeful  
expression the likes of which I've never before seen.  

She's not so bad, I tell myself.  She must be a very lonely
person.  She certainly doesn't have too many friends around
here, which is unarguably her own fault.  She's held
herself aloof one too many times.  Neither she nor Agent
Mulder was ever one to go out after work for a few beers
and unwind.  She doesn't let herself rub elbows with the
rest of us riff-raff.  Too bad.  I'll bet she could be fun,
if she'd let herself.  But instead, she keeps to herself.  
All serious and professional.  

I can see her going home and crying herself to sleep every
night.  It can't be good for her.  It can't be good for the
baby.

Life is about having fun.

Then again, maybe I don't know what it's like to miss
someone like that.  Oh, I have some idea but I'm not sure
Donny counts anymore.  I mean, the reason he left was
because he finally found the bimbo he thought I couldn't
compare to.  And that was after quite a bit of searching,
some of which I knew about and some of which I certainly
didn't.  My heart was broken because I truly did love him
at the time.  But at least now I can tell myself that I'm
better off.  

I think Agent Mulder really loved her.  And as a woman, I
know that's not an easy thing to find.  There was something
about the way they were together that made every woman in
the office jealous.  Agent Mulder did get some major
negative points for neediness in the end results of our
rating scale.  But there was something about the devotion
he so clearly displayed when Agent Scully was around that
was....how should I put it?  Touching, maybe.  Dare I say
hopeful for all of man and womankind?

I pause for just a second.

But the words rush out.

"You should take care of yourself," I say suddenly, almost
kicking myself for giving her the opportunity to get out of
answering my previous question.  And why do I suddenly feel
like warning her not to tip her hand to me?  Why do I feel
like such a complete heel again?  It's not like everyone
hasn't already guessed she's pregnant.  Except for those
few dense or mean individuals that just think she stopped
running and started eating real ice cream and that's where
the gut is coming from.  I'm doing her a favor here,
indirectly.  She's not lazy.  She's knocked up.

"It is difficult, Kimberly," she says finally.  Oh god,
she's answering the question.  I feel both elated and sorry
that I've tricked her into the admission.  "I miss him
every day and yes, I would like for him to be here for
this."  She stares down at her hands resting lightly on her
stomach.  "And I am taking care of myself," she states
firmly.  She looks up at me.  

And maybe she sees something in my face that's less than
what she expects.  Because that no nonsense tone comes
creeping back into her voice.  "Thank you..."  The distance is
widening between us with each careful word.  "Thank you for
your concern, Kimberly," she says stiffly.  And she might
as well add on the phrase 'that will be all'.  It's awkward
for both of us suddenly.

Hey, no skin off my back if she wants to treat it like no
more than a polite question.  Here I am, trying to be
friendly and she goes all formal again.  I try to connect
with her and she turns that internal air-conditioner back
to high.  Who needs this?  It doesn't matter.  I'm doing
the math in my mind and I'm pretty sure I put some major
money on the most likely date of conception.  

Now if only there were some way to slip in a question about
the first time they did it.  I'm banking a lot of money on
her ice queen reputation and I don't want to lose at this
point.  I'll win the whole pot if that date of conception
is the same as that of the first deed.  I, for one, have
never underestimated her prudishness.  Virginia is foolish
enough to have taken on day one of their partnership.  Yeah,
right.  She hasn't stared at this woman sitting so primly
and properly in her office so many times.  Right next to
that hunk of man and still playing the consummate FBI
agent while he moons over her cleavage.

It's amazing she got pregnant at all.

Skinner suddenly opens the door, ushering another agent
out and ruining any further opportunities.  It's Tom Colton,
and he gives Agent Scully a wide berth and a knowing smile.  
He's a jerk.  And for some reason, I want to jump across
the desk and take her side.  Leave her alone, you big
bully.  But she ignores him and stares defiantly at Skinner
and my admirable female bonding urge goes unnoticed by her.  
In fact, after Tom leaves, her gaze comes back to me and
travels speculatively over my face.  She frowns slightly,
and her eyes are distant.  Cool.  There's something haunted
in them, too.  Something I don't recognize.  Something I've
never seen before.  It makes me want to shiver for a
second.  That girl is not quite right.  She turns her glare
onto Skinner before marching into his office without a word
of good-bye to me.

She's going to narc on me.  I can tell.  Bitch.

Skinner glances at me, having caught the look.  I hate the
way he gets around these two, but her especially.  Even
more so, now that Mulder's gone.  His face has gone all
soft and simpering.  As if he actually has some emotion in
there.  Though whether it's because he wants to protect her
or just bang her on his desk, I'm not quite sure.  Hmph.  
Same thing sometimes.  To her credit, she doesn't give him
the time of day.  It makes me laugh to see him so
unrequitedly drool.

There's a lot of stuff going on in this office that Agent
Scully doesn't know about.  I think she gives him an
enormous amount of respect as it is.  But she ought to be a
little more careful with her trust.

He follows her in and shuts the door quietly.  I can just
imagine him, all over her with his concern.  But I've seen
a few of her responses to his advances so I'm not too
worried for her.  Anyway, she's the type to moon over
Mulder for the rest of her life.  Skinner ought to save his
breath, big horn dog.

And maybe she does know there's more to his concern than
meets the eye.

Spaceships.  Aliens.  Ha.

These people take themselves just a bit too seriously.

I pull out the nail file I refuse to use in front of any of
the agents anymore.  I resent their condescending looks.  
As if the fact I take care of my nails classifies me as an
idiot.  I work on a slightly rough edge where I snagged it
on my keyboard this morning.  I take out the Victoria's
Secret sale catalog.  There's a little number in there that
I don't want to forget to order and I fold the page.  I can
hear the low murmur of Agent Scully's voice in there and
wonder what they're talking about.  I feel bad for her
again and then I remember that I'll probably get majorly
chewed out when she leaves.  If I do, you can bet your ass
that the girls will hear every juicy tidbit I just learned
the second I sit down at that lunch table.  Including the
fact that her hair actually managed to look awful today.

I can hear Skinner's voice murmuring now.  I imagine Agent
Scully sitting there with that dead look on her face, not
noticing what he's saying.  Staring down at her belly
getting almost big enough to be noticeable.

Missing Mulder.

Hey...we all miss people.

Her voice gets louder.  Much louder.  Loud enough I can
almost catch whole words here and there.  I hear the word
'No!' a number of times.  I hear her spewing out long,
wordy, mad-as-hell sentences which I can't quite make out,
but I thrill at the thought of any woman chewing out my
boss.  The door opens abruptly and Agent Scully bursts out.  
Her face is livid.  She looks like she wants to take
Skinner's head off.  He's right on her heels and finally
seems fed up with her himself.  Lover's quarrel, I think
meanly.  But I know better.

"Sir, I would hope that the bureau would respect Agent
Mulder enough to support his...condition."  She has to
search for this word.  "But then, I guess I should have
known better."

Skinner's face screws all up, like he wants nothing more
than her understanding.  Romantic fool.  "Agent Scully,
it's not like that," he wheedles.  Pathetic.  "You know
that.  Right now, it's all about costs and benefits."

"Fine," she snaps, pointing a finger at him.  "I'm his
beneficiary.  Deposit his life insurance policy into my
account and go ahead and try to give me that new partner,
sir."  She almost spits the 'sir' part and she can barely
get the next words out, she's so fired up.  "If he's
anything resembling the spy that I was groomed to be, I
swear to God I will both eviscerate and emasculate him for
his efforts within a day."

She's out the door without a thought of me.  Ignored once
again.  But, wow.  Wow!  This just gets better and better.  
"Agent Scully's getting a new partner, sir?" I ask.  I
can't wait for the memo on this one.

"Kimberly, have the Colton report ready for me in an hour,"
he snaps.  

Asshole.

"She certainly loved that man," I say with a sigh as he
turns away.  I know I'm baiting him but you can't blame a
girl for having a little fun in this stuffy place.

"The report, Kimberly?"  Skinner gives me a disgusted look
and goes into his office, slamming the door.

Well.

Hmph.

I sit there for a few minutes and go back and forth with
myself about letting out the information I've collected
this fertile morning.  There's a part of me that feels for
Agent Scully.  It's not quite empathy.  I haven't been
lucky enough to have someone love me like that.  Then
again, he did leave her, no matter how suspicious the
circumstances, so maybe we have more in common than I
think.  I imagine being her friend.  Sharing a drink with
her after work.  Playing with little Mulder jr. while we go
shopping.  This shakes me out of my reverie.  We would
never be friends.  I just can't see it.  She'd go off in
doctor speak and I'd stand there feeling like an idiot.  
I'll bet she doesn't even shop.  She probably goes to the
library on her days off or something.

It's quiet in this office.  I'm lonely here too, sometimes.

Well...at least I have friends.

I shake my head to clear it.  Virginia is going to love
this gossip.  I can trust the lunch crowd to keep it to
themselves.  We're government workers, after all.  We know
how to keep things hush-hush.  Besides, when it comes to
those two, one more outlandish rumor will barely make a
drop in the bucket.  No one will know I was the source.  
I'm convinced she was distracted enough by whatever just
went on in that office that telling ol' Walter on me was
the last thing on her mind.  I consider every angle, but still
don't see any possibility of getting in trouble for it.

I can't wait to tell them.

Don't get me wrong.  I do have a conscience.  I don't mean
Agent Scully any harm.  She seems okay, all things
considered.  A bit stuck up...I'm not one to buy into the
idea that anyone's that reserved...but none of this
information will harm her.  In fact, I'll most likely be
doing her a favor.  I'm only confirming what everyone
already knows anyway, saving her the trouble, and maybe
winning a little money for it.

It's just a little harmless fun at work.

I'm glad I'm not her.  She has a much lonelier life than I
do.  But she did choose it, after all.  She made her own
bed.  Let her lie in it.

And I can't wait to tell the others that I won the pot.


***********************************************************
THE END



AUTHOR'S NOTES:  Have you ever had one of those moments
in the workplace where you want to turn around and ask one of
your co-workers if they could please take out the knife they
just stuck into your back while you were distracted by
them smiling at you?  

Pieces of wisdom I've learned in the work setting - 'trust
no one'.  People don't really mean to be unkind to others
when they have their own interests at heart.  It just seems
to happen.

Send feedback to katy2blue@aol.com  Excuse the workplace
commentary and no flames, please.  What did Kimberly ever
do to me?  Well...this version is my creation and...um...is
there something sticking in my back?  Could you get that
out for me, please?  It hurts!  :)