Horizons: Homecoming

By: Emilie Renee Karr
ekarr@bowdoin.edu


  Category: X (for X-file)
  Rating: PG (couple of swears, still no 'F's)
  Comments to: ekarr@bowdoin.edu
 
  Summary: After five years, Dana Scully has been returned, but
  everything's far from over.  Not only must she deal with
  changes in Mulder and the expansion of the X-files division, but
  there are some that would have preferred that she'd never come
  back...Sequel to "Future Horizons."
 
  Author's note: I'm not going to say I hope it was worth the wait,
  because after so long this would need to be /War and Peace/ to be
  truly worth it. =)  But at long-last, this is it: the sequel to
  "Future Horizons."  If you haven't read that (it's archived at
  http://gossamer.simplenet.com ) I don't know how much sense it's
  going to make--it picks up twenty-four hours after that one ends.
  If you have read it, here's what happens afterwards.  And I hope
  you enjoy it at least as much as the first, if not more--this one
  has Scully!
  Final note--I have the whole thing written, but I need to prep it
  for sending out.  This is the first group of parts. The next will take
  me longer to get ready, esp. with midterms
  approaching, but the more you encourage me the faster it'll
  go...yes, this is a reminder of how much I *LOVE* reader
  response--I know you're out there! I can hear you downloading! E-
  mail ekarr@bowdoin.edu
 
  DISCLAIMER: Mulder, Scully, etc...belong to Chris Carter and 10-
  13, I've borrowed them for non-profit activities.  But this
  story, and the X-files /team/ belong solely to ME, and if you use
  them w/out acknowledging that I'll get cranky, I'm a very
  possessive creator...thanx :) (c) 1997
 
 
 
                        Horizons: Homecoming
 
                         Emilie Renee Karr
 
  Fox Mulder was fidgeting.
 
  Well, no, fidgeting wasn't quite the word.  Shifting slightly in
  his chair.  Leaning forward to put his elbows on his knees and
  his chin in his hands; a few minutes later leaning back in a
  semblance of relaxation.  Changing position.
 
  Six agents watched him from the other side of the waiting room.
 
  "He doesn't fidget, either," Gibbons whispered, just loudly
  enough that the other five could hear her.  Quietly enough that
  the director couldn't.
 
  The door from the main part of the hospital opened, and a doctor
  entered.  He was smiling broadly.  
 
  Immediately all seven members of the FBI were on their feet.
  Director Mulder was closest to the doctor.  "So what's the news
  with them?" he asked.
 
  The other agents watched this exchange with wide eyes.  Mulder
  was smiling.  Not broadly, but clearly, matching the doctor in
  feeling if not in diameter.
 
  The doctor announced, "They're all fine, all sixty of them.
  Physically at least."  For a brief moment a frown darkened his
  face.  "Mentally...some seem disturbed, I've heard.  The ones I
  examined personally were rather quiet, but they shouldn't need
  serious therapy, I don't think."
 
  "What about the X-rays?" Mulder inquired urgently.
 
  "All negative." The doctor shook his head, "no signs of metal
  anywhere in any of them.  Lots of fillings, but cursory
  examinations indicate those are from regular dentists.  And none
  of the other details you asked us to check for were present,
  either."
 
  The doctor probably didn't notice but the others saw the
  expression shift across their director's face.  It vanished
  before they could identify it, though... "May I see the ones
  from--?"
 
  Without asking the doctor handed him a folder. "Thought you'd
  want these."  While Mulder scrutinized the plates in the light,
  the doctor looked the agents over slowly. "Now that my work is
  basically done, can you tell me why it was so urgent?  Where did
  all these people come from?  Why was there a police officer
  accompanying each and every one of them?"
 
  Pender stepped forward. "We're sorry, doctor.  We can't answer
  your questions immediately.  Perhaps in a few weeks--"
 
  "A few weeks?" gaped the doctor. "What is this about--"
 
  Mulder cut him off. "Doctor, this is about matters of national
  security.  I'm sorry, you will eventually know, I assure you.
  Now I need to see one of your former patients, if you are in fact
  finished with them."
 
  "I'm done.  They're right through there, just show your badge,"
  the doctor told him, gesturing at the door.
 
  Mulder pushed past him, out to the hall.
 
  The doctor examined the other six agents. "I don't suppose any of
  you will talk."
 
  As one, they shook their heads.  Pender spoke. "We need to speak
  with them as well--"
 
  Sighing, the doctor pointed. "Follow him, show your badges, those
  should get you past all those officers."
 
  They all moved out of the waiting room.  In the hall they
  congregated momentarily. "Okay, you know what to ask," Pender
  said.
 
  His partner Guss listed, "How much do you remember, how long do
  you think you were gone, how old are you, what your name is--"
 
  "Yeah, we got it," Dubzinski murmured.
 
  "Thought you did," Pender replied. "Just keep in mind that these
  people have been back only twenty-four hours; don't push them.
  Ask nicely and if they say they don't know ask something
  unrelated."
 
  They all nodded, then split up to go to the various rooms.  Guss
  caught Pender before they left. "We leave the interviews in Room
  53 to the director, right?"
 
  Pender nodded. "I think he's gotten it covered.  He should have,
  what with the amount of time he's been spending in there."
 
  "You're going to have to spill the story soon, Pender."
 
  "And you're still convinced I know it."
 
  "All of us are.  As soon as these people are taken care of we're
  going to spring a thousand questions on you.  Mind if I get a
  head start?"
 
  "Go ahead," Pender told his partner.
 
  "What was the box you gave the director?  Right when you came in
  this evening? Was it why you were late?"
 
  "It was why I was late.  It was something he asked me to pick
  up."
 
  "A rather strange something," Guss commented. "I can tell by the
  way you trail off."
 
  "Bet you can also tell that I'm not saying any more than that.
  We got some people to talk to, Guss.  Get to work now,
  interviewing me can wait."
 
  "Yeah," Guss muttered. "Until the rest of us gather the
  interrogation equipment and start another Inquisition.  You're
  not getting away this time, Pender."  He didn't care that Pender
  was out of hearing range by now.  His partner knew it already.
 
  His partner knew a great deal too much, Guss thought.  Almost as
  much as Mulder himself did.  Not about the abductees and their
  incredible return; he suspected Pender had already told
  everything he knew when they were on the search for Mulder.  
 
  But about one of the abductees, now...that woman.  A short, pale-
  skinned, red-haired woman.  One of the abductees.  A doctor, she
  had said.  Who had guessed that he, Guss, was FBI the moment she
  saw the director's face.
 
  One didn't have to be Sherlock Holmes to deduce the fact that she
  knew Mulder.  And he knew her.  Knew her so well that he cried in
  her arms even as she did and that afterward he smiled.
 
  And Director Mulder /never/ smiled.
 
  Pender knew who she was, Guss and the others were positive of
  that.  Guss himself could only guess, and he was unsure enough of
  his theory that he hadn't said anything about it yet.  He was
  wondering, however, if he could talk to the woman.  Or find out
  something about her.  Such as if she had been a pathologist in
  the FBI...
 
  And then there were all the little attendant mysteries gathered
  around her enigma.  Like Pender's box.  Guss had been the only
  one who had seen him hand it to Mulder.  A tiny little white box,
  like a jewelry box.  Why in hell would the director request
  jewelry from Pender?
 
  But his partner had been right.  All his questions would have to
  wait until after this whole matter with the abductees was cleared
  up.
 
  Guss allowed himself a tiny sigh before getting down to official
  business.  This whole matter, he suspected, was going to take a
  /very/ long time to clear up.
 
 
  In Room 53, the door opened.  Five former abductees, sitting up
  in their hospital beds and talking quietly, went silent, wide
  eyes focused on whoever was there.
 
  They relaxed when the man entered; he had been in enough that
  they had grown accustomed to him already.  And one of them
  smiled.
 
  His tiny return smile was for her. "Hey."
 
  "Hey.  I take it the X-rays came out clear?"
 
  "Yes.  Nothing unusual.  How'd you--"
 
  "You look relieved." Happy was stretching it a little.  His smile
  was sincere enough, the same little smile he had had for the last
  twenty-four hours.  Too tight to be called happy, but a smile.
  Now it was more relaxed, a layer of tension peeled away.
 
  She contemplated him silently.  He studied her, too.  A long
  searching look, eyes darting all over her.  Absorbing every
  detail, almost savoring it.
 
  She hadn't changed that much, she knew.  Looking at her now he
  saw almost the same woman who had been his partner five years
  ago.  Paler, of course; there hadn't been sunlight on the ship.
  And a little thinner, they had been fed enough but sometimes she
  simply couldn't eat.  They all had gone through that; they all
  had supported each other through it, made sure that everyone
  stayed healthy.
 
  It had paid off, they all were back now, they all were safe and
  they all had survived.  And they hadn't really altered much.  It
  had only been a year, after all, from their perspective.
 
  But for the rest of the universe...
 
  They had been told, of course.  Warned that time passed
  differently, that they had lost some on the ship.  They didn't
  know how much, they weren't told.  She hadn't really thought of
  it precisely, until they were standing on Earth again.  And she
  knelt down to help an injured man and saw his face.
 
  She had known in the back of her mind who it was, but she hadn't
  paid attention, and then it came as such a shock, his face, his
  hair.  Grey streaks in the moonlight.  One doesn't get that much
  grey in one year, but five?
 
  The hair had been obvious, but looking at him now, it was such a
  minor detail.  It gave him a distinguished appearance; how did he
  look now in glasses?  But there was more than that.  Lines in the
  face that hadn't been there before.  And the whole
  expression...the tentativeness of the smile, as if it was a long-
  unused thing.
 
  Time, five years of it, could carve lines.  But it wasn't time
  that had put his smile out of practice.  She knew what it was,
  and was hard-pressed to convince herself that it wasn't her
  fault, she should not feel guilty--
 
  He broke her out of her revery.  Or perhaps was breaking out of
  his own.  "I've...I've got something for you."  He fumbled in his
  pocket.
 
  "Don't tell me, a football video," she said, summoning her own
  smile to counteract the mock-horror of her tone.
 
  He stared at her, and for a brief moment she was sure he had no
  idea what she was talking of.  No memory of that other reunion,
  that paler echo of this one.  Three months was not five years--
 
  Then his smile brightened for an instant. "Oh.  No, I...forgot to
  get one, sorry."  Instead he took out a little box, opened it.
  Handed what lay inside to her.
 
  She stared at it, nestled in her palm, a tiny golden cross on a
  delicate chain.  "I, I lost it on the ship, where--"  She looked
  at him, trying and almost succeeding to keep her eyes from
  filling with tears.  
 
  "Last night, I noticed you didn't have it anymore," he murmured.
  Last night.  They were running for their lives, all of them
  jammed into police cruisers racing for a hospital that only
  possibly was safe, and he had noticed her cross was gone.  "Oh,
  Mulder."
 
  "It's just a replacement," he told her, "I know it's not exactly
  like the one before."
 
  "It's fine, it's perfect," she assured him.
 
  He was shaking his head slightly. "I didn't even get it myself, I
  didn't have a chance."  Small wonder; the only time she knew that
  he had left her side was a little while ago, when the doctors
  forcibly ejected him.  They insisted that if he stayed around
  then he was going to have to undergo the X-rays as well, because
  anyone without an MD was going to receive them.  Of course that
  should have excused her but she knew it was necessary-- "I would
  have picked out a closer one," he was saying, "but I didn't have
  the time so I asked one of my agents to..."
 
  "One of your agents."  The changes in him went further than skin-
  deep. "You're a director now, right?"
 
  He nodded.  "Of the X-files division.  Scully--" A split-second
  pause, as if tasting the name.  He must have liked the way it
  sounded. "Scully, we've got a real office now, we're out of the
  basement."
 
  We.  Not only him and her.  Other agents, in the X-files.  "How
  many are you?"
 
  "I have six agents working under me now," he told her. "Three
  pairs of partners."
 
  She didn't even realize she had been tense until she relaxed.
  Three pairs of partners.  He didn't have a partner, he didn't
  have someone replacing her.  Her place, that undefinable position
  that went beyond their work and yet was their work, her
  partnership was still secure.
 
  But secured for her?  Five years, she reminded herself.  Long
  time for an unexcused vacation.  "Mulder..." she asked
  tentatively. "What's going to happen to us? Where do we go when
  we leave here?"
 
  In her peripheral vision she saw the other four abductees listen
  up.  They had politely been trying to ignore the pair, but this
  query belonged to all of them.
 
  Mulder's answer came too quickly. "You'll be fine.  You'll go
  back to your lives."
 
  "Are our lives still there?" Scully asked for all of them.
 
  For the first time he couldn't meet her eyes. "I hope they are."
  He glanced around at the others. "We'll make sure you all are
  safe."  She knew that tone, that utter confident one.  He would
  not be denied.  They would be safe.  If they weren't, then all
  the blame would rest on his shoulders.
 
  He looked back at her.  Shyly, almost.  In an undertone he said,
  "Your life is still around.  You can return.  Scully, I've called
  your mother, she should be here tomorrow."
 
  "My mother..." More guilt there.  What must it have been like
  for, believing that her remaining daughter was dead.  After five
  years she certainly would have given up, anyone would have.
 
  Almost anyone.  Her eyes were still on Mulder.  Would he have?
  She didn't think he had.  And that must have been even worse for
  him.
 
  That worried expression he regarded her with now.  As if he
  feared that something would come and snatch her away again.  And
  the way he had hugged her, when he first saw her, holding on as
  if to a lifeline.  The same way she felt, really.
 
  Impulsively she reached out, squeezed his hand.  At her touch he
  jerked and then his grip tightened around her fingers.  He
  focused on her face.  "Scully?"
 
  "Yes?"
 
  "There's something I haven't told you yet.  About--about the x-
  rays."
 
  Immediately she was at attention.  "What?"
 
  He shook his head. "It's not bad, it's good, it's..."
 
  She knew then what he was going to say.  But she allowed him to
  announce it. "The tumor.  That tumor, the cancer, it's gone.
  There's no sign of it in the x-rays." His hold was so strong it
  was painful but she didn't mind. "It was cured somehow, wasn't
  it?"
 
  "Yes."  She gave him a tiny smile. "I--I was hoping you could
  tell me that.  They mentioned--only once, they said they had
  fixed matters."
 
  "They did this?"  With his other hand he gestured slightly at the
  ceiling, at the stars outside. "They cured you?"
 
  She nodded. "I believe so."
 
  "But why?"
 
  "I don't know."  It was so hard to explain, to describe how one
  couldn't ask questions, only listen closely to what one was told.
  To make someone who hadn't been there understand, she couldn't
  speak to them, she only understood what they wanted her to.  And
  she had never known whether or not to believe them. "Mulder, we
  were all--all of us had been abducted before.  We had all
  disappeared, with no or almost no memories, for weeks, months."
 
  "I know." He was nodding.  Of course he'd known.  Five years he
  had had to research, investigate.  He probably knew more about
  the other abductees than she did.
 
  But did he know this? "I wasn't the only one.  That was sick, I
  mean.  That was dying..."
 
  He shook his head very slightly, negating the words.  They
  weren't true, they had never been true for him.
 
  "I would have, Mulder.  The tumor would have killed me."  She
  looked away from his expression. "But they somehow removed it.
  As they removed other tumors from other abductees.  Or...other
  things."  She turned to face another bed, the woman there.
  "Michelle?"
 
  The woman ducked her head.
 
  "Tell him how they helped you.  Please?"
 
  Michelle spoke in a whisper, eyes downcast. "They...I had
  arthritis, that's what the doctors said.  It started only a
  little after the first time...I was taken.  And it got worse, I
  had trouble walking, I couldn't write, they didn't know what was
  wrong.  No one did.  It couldn't be stopped...and then when I was
  taken again, they made it better.  As good as new..."
 
  "They healed you?  Would you have died, do you think, if they
  hadn't?" Mulder demanded, quietly but insistent.
 
  Michelle only shook her head, wordless.
 
  Scully patted his hand, drew his attention off the other woman.
  A little cock of the head and he understood instantly.  Don't
  push it.
 
  God, she had missed that, the silent communication they had.  A
  warm feeling spread through her, to know it was still there.
 
  Mulder of course was still wrestling with the mystery. "So she
  was healed, and you.  And I take it you aren't the only ones."
 
  "No," Scully verified. "Many of us were treated in some fashion.
  And the others...they could have been sick without knowing it."
  She looked at him. "They helped us.  They took us against our
  will, for so long--" and now she tightened her own fingers around
  his, "--but they helped us all the same.  And we don't even know
  why."
 
  "Will they take you again?" Mulder's voice was so quiet she had
  to strain to understand.
 
  "I don't know," was all she could tell him.
 
  He absorbed her answer stoically; if she didn't know him so well
  she wouldn't have seen the emotions warring on his face.  Rather
  than addressing them he said, "It's getting late, do you want to
  sleep?"
 
  Scully made a face. "Seems like all I'm doing now is sleeping."
 
  "Are you--are you bored?  Want me to get you a book or
  something?" He looked around at the others, too. "Do you want a
  television or a radio?"
 
  "Maybe a television..." whispered one of the other abductees.
  Janet.  And Michelle added, "A newspaper," in her breathless
  voice.
 
  They were all so quiet, Scully thought.  On the ship she had been
  one of the loudest, the least timid.  Now that they were back she
  realized how quiet she truly was--and how much softer they all
  were.  How long would it be before they all spoke above a
  whisper? Or shouted again?
 
  Mulder appeared as if he would leap up and carry out their
  bidding this instant. "Wait," she stopped him.  "You can bring us
  things tomorrow.  If you want.  It is late now, we should sleep."
  Yes, hide one more night from the world, the changes out there.
  Scully wasn't sure she even wanted to see a newspaper, with that
  new date on it.  Five years gone.
 
  Mulder nodded agreement.  "You sleep, too," she told him.  He
  most definitely needed it.  Not all of the lines on his face were
  permanent ones; some would vanish if he got rest.
 
  And some things apparently never would change, a fact for which
  she was both glad and frustrated. "I'm not tired," he said with a
  shrug, settling down in his chair, obviously about to keep vigil
  tonight as well.
 
  She should have protested but she didn't have the energy, despite
  that she had been lying in bed all day.  And it was comforting,
  knowing he was there.  With a quiet "Good-night, then," she
  rolled on her side and closed her eyes.  
 
 
  End Part 1
 
Title: Horizons: Homecoming, pt 2/12

 
  She didn't fall asleep for some time.  Instead she listened to
  the quiet sounds around her.  Soft breathing inside the room.
  The occasional steps of someone passing in the hall, where an
  officer was keeping guard.  The muted noises of night traffic
  outside the window.
 
  So different from the ship, and so comforting.  Such ordinary
  things could make her happy now.  Content, feeling almost safe at
  last, she dozed off.
 
  Some indeterminate time later she jerked awake.  A quick survey
  of the room showed her why: someone was standing at the door,
  having just entered.
 
  She glanced next to the bed and her heart jumped when she saw
  Mulder wasn't there.
 
  The figure by the door was not him.  The light was dim but her
  eyes were adjusted and she could see the man clearly.  Tall,
  black hair, light eyes.  He appeared about Mulder's age--no,
  younger.  Mulder's age five years ago, later thirties.  Her age
  now, she supposed, though she didn't feel older and physically
  she wasn't.
 
  He was dressed in a suit.  Not a doctor or an orderly's gown, and
  not a police officer's uniform, either.  How did he get in here?
  Why hadn't the guard outside given some sort of alarm?
 
  Where was he?  Where was Mulder?
 
  "Who are you?" she asked in the most commanding tone she could
  muster.  Not as strong as it once had been but it would have to
  do.
 
  The man met her eyes. "Sorry, I didn't mean to wake you," he said
  in response.
 
  "Why are you in here?" He didn't sound threatening, at least.
  She didn't relax, though.
 
  "Well, if you're awake, do you mind a few questions, ma'am? I'm
  with the FBI."  And he flipped out his badge.
 
  She calmed some.  The badge at least explained how he had
  entered.  The question now became, was he legitimate? "What do
  you want to know?"
 
  "We've been interviewing the abductees.  We haven't spoken to
  anyone in here yet, because we expected Director Mulder to.  But
  he hasn't given us your replies yet so I'm here to find them
  myself."
 
  "Where is Mulder?" For the moment she ignored the unnatural
  "director."
 
  "Right out in the hall.  I made him lie down and take a short
  nap.  Hope you don't mind."
 
  "No."  She assimilated this in silence for a moment.  Put
  together what little she knew of him and made a leap of
  intuition.  "Are you an X-files agent?"
 
  "As a matter of fact, I am," affirmed the agent.
 
  "And Mulder is your director," she continued.
 
  "Now he is." At her expression he elaborated. "He was my partner,
  some time ago."  
 
  Her reaction to this, small as it was, obviously didn't pass
  unnoticed. "You were his partner before me.  Dana Scully, right?"
 
  She nodded.
 
  "Glad to meet you, Agent Scully," the man said. "I'm Agent Lee
  Pender.  We never met at the Bureau, though I did see you around
  occasionally."  He extended his hand.  
 
  She took it, shook it uneasily.  Pender's expression was hard to
  read, and she had yet to hear proof of his story.  "So what are
  you asking us abductees?"
 
  Pender shrugged. "Standard questions.  Your name I already have.
  I need your age, your birthdate and place, social security
  number--standard identification."
 
  "My legal, chronological age or my physical age?"
 
  "Ah."  Pender regarded her thoughtfully.  "That is sort of a
  tricky issue.  How about both?"
 
  She told him what he asked. "Actually," he remarked, "that social
  security number's been re-assigned.  Just so you know."
 
  "It has?" Would he lie?  He hadn't checked it in any computer,
  but he sounded absolutely positive.
 
  "Yes." Pender verified. "It belongs to a four-year-old boy in
  Wyoming now."  But he didn't explain how he had come by this
  data.  
 
  Rather than ask when she figured she wouldn't get an answer, she
  said, "Are you interested in my experiences on the ship?"
 
  "We'll get to those," Pender assured her. "Now, I'd just like to
  check a few items.  What was your career before the abduction?"
 
  Scully frowned. "You know that already, I'm sure.  Pathologist
  for the Federal Bureau of Investigation, special agent assigned
  to the X-files." She added her identification number for good
  measure.
 
  "Uh-huh," Pender nodded. "You worked with Fox Mulder."
 
  "I was his partner for almost five years."
 
  "I assume that after that amount of time you knew each other
  fairly well?" Scully nodded slowly, unsure of where this was
  leading.  "Did he ever mention to you why he was so interested in
  the X-files?"
 
  She narrowed her eyes. "What does this have to do with me
  exactly, Agent Pender?"
 
  "Did he ever tell you?  Do you know?" Pender as good as said,
  'I'm the one asking the questions here.'
 
  "I do know, but I fail to see why I should tell you."  Even if
  Pender was in fact a legitimate X-files agent, he had no right to
  take information given to her in confidence.  If he hadn't been
  told yet she certainly wouldn't break Mulder's trust...
 
  His next words surprised her, thinking as she was along those
  lines.  "Does the name Samantha mean anything to you?"
 
  Realizing that somewhere she had misinterpreted what was going
  on, she demanded the first thing that came into her mind--"Are
  you interrogating all the abductees in this manner?"
 
  "No."
 
  His flat answer was nearly a shock. It was the most definite
  reply she had received from Pender yet.  Studying him, she saw
  that he had picked up traits from his former partner and current
  director.  His face was as unreadable as Mulder's in his most
  closed mood.  "So why am I singled out?" she asked cautiously.
 
  "No one else appears to be Dana Scully," Pender explained.
 
  "I don't just appear to be--I am Dana Scully," she assured him.
 
  "Mulder's convinced of that, at least."
 
  "Believe him, he's got good instincts.  Believe me.  Why would I
  lie?"
 
  Pender's non-expression was almost pensive.  "An imposter would
  have certain uses.  They would be considered an FBI agent--in
  particular an X-files agent."
 
  "And that would be dangerous?" She could understand that.  A
  double agent in the X-files.  Krycek came to mind, imagine what
  he could have done if he had actually been accepted as a full
  agent on the X-files...
 
  Pender was nodding agreement. "We're a well-known division, we're
  very difficult to attack.  But we, Mulder especially, have
  enemies..."  He trailed off, eying her, then resumed, "And a
  false Dana Scully would be in a position to do irreparable
  damage."
 
  Somehow, by the way he looked at her, she understood then that he
  was referring to more than just the X-files.  Most of the
  hostility she felt for this inquisitive agent who had so nearly
  taken her place bled away.  "How long were you his partner?" she
  asked.
 
  Pender didn't seem to mind the change in questioner.  He actually
  came close to smiling at her.  "Only a year, and half that was
  with another agent as well.  But because of that I'm senior agent
  on the X-files."
 
  "Second in command."
 
  "Something like that.  Though," and he was eyeing her again,
  "you'd have a high rank too, I suppose."
 
  "Are you all ranked?" She couldn't help but admit that she was
  curious about the functioning of entire division.  How did Mulder
  handle being the director of six agents?  
 
  She also wondered about those other agents.  If Pender was a
  typical example, they must be rather interesting people to work
  with...
 
  Pender was answering her and she paid attention. "No.  The only
  acknowledged superior is the director.  But I handle some of the
  organization when Mulder is busy."
 
  He took a step closer to her bed.  She didn't draw back, and was
  mildly pleased to find that she had no immediate urge to do so.
  "Should I call you Agent Scully?" he asked her.
 
  "What do you mean?"
 
  "Are you planning to rejoin the Bureau?"
 
  "I haven't--" Well, it was true, she hadn't exactly thought it
  through exactly.  But, she realized, she had in fact
  automatically assumed that she would.  Not just the Bureau.  The
  X-files.  That was where she belonged, they were her domain as
  much as Mulder's.  Even after five years' absence.  Even though
  there were six other agents who belonged there as well now.
 
  "I am Agent Scully," she said aloud.  And looking Pender directly
  in the eyes she added, "And I am myself.  Not an imposter."  To
  dispel the doubt that remained in his eyes she ended with,
  "Samantha was Mulder's sister.  Her abduction twenty-five--no,
  thirty years ago, his search for her now, that's what brought
  Mulder to the X-files.  And you knew that already."
 
  Pender opened his mouth to reply to that, actually to add to it,
  because it was evident she hadn't heard the conclusion of that
  story.  Well, when would she have heard, only two days ago she
  had been in an alien ship.  It wasn't likely that Mulder had told
  her much of anything yet.  Certainly not something as earth-
  shattering as that.  But she'd find out soon enough as it was,
  and from what little Pender had gleaned from talking to her, she
  was strong enough to take just about anything.  Strong enough
  even to support Mulder, as the Dana Scully of five years ago must
  have.  Pender wondered if Mulder had strength enough to support
  her, though...
 
  He didn't get a chance to say any of this.  Before a single word
  emerged from his mouth Scully sat straight up in her bed.
 
  "What is it?" he queried, keeping his voice low as he had for
  their entire conversation.
 
  "Listen," she whispered, barely pronouncing the words aloud.
 
  Holding his breath he could make out distant noises, possibly
  voices.  Without a second thought he drew his gun and headed for
  the door.
 
  Before he departed Agent Scully--he decided that was the best way
  to think of her now, she seemed legitimate so far--spoke again.
  "Agent Pender."
   
  "Yes?"
 
  Her eyes were on his gun.  "It'd be safer if we had some way to
  defend ourselves."
 
  He hesitated.  In her case it was true, she would probably be
  better off with a weapon.  "I'll get you one as soon as
  possible."
 
  The noises resolved into shouting the moment he stepped out.  The
  police officers were still standing by their assigned doors, but
  all staring apprehensively down the hall.
 
  "What's going on?" he demanded.  Mulder was involved, whatever it
  was; he was no longer on the chairs outside the room.
 
  "I don't know," an officer said. "Your boss went to check it out.
  He gave us express orders not to move--"  Obviously the man was
  not entirely comfortable with that injunction, but he hadn't
  disobeyed.
 
  "Do exactly as he said, don't move from your posts, any of you,"
  Pender commanded, raising his voice to be heard, and then he too
  took off down the hall.
 
  The source of the shouting resolved itself shortly to be a
  doctor, on the night shift apparently and not entirely appraised
  of the situation.  The man she was addressing was answering her
  questions with nothing, which wasn't helping her mood any.  
 
  "What are you doing here?  Why these people?"
 
  "Please show me the way to them, doctor."
 
  "Not until you explain your reasons!"
 
  Pender plunged into the verbal fray without hesitation.  "What's
  going on here, doctor?" he demanded, glancing over the man.  He
  wore a dark suit very like Pender's and his stoic expression was
  probably similar to the agent's, too.
 
  They must have had some common trait because the doctor glared at
  him with the same force. "And what the hell do you want?"
 
  "FBI, doctor," and Pender showed his badge.  
 
  This calmed her immediately and her look changed to one
  requesting assistance.  "This man here is demanding access to
  what I was informed is a restricted section; he wants to
  personally examine several patients.  I was told not to allow
  anyone in there."
 
  Pender turned on the man. "Now what is your business there?"
 
  "I am authorized to move several of the patients kept there to a
  more appropriate, secure facility," he was informed.
 
  "And where's your authorization?"
 
   From his pocket the man withdrew a folded paper.  He glared
  momentarily at the doctor.  "This is what I was trying to show
  you, doctor."  Handing it to Pender he went on, "If you would,
  examine it.  I assure you it and the signatures at the bottom are
  genuine."
 
  The paper's watermark certainly was genuine, as was the
  letterhead and seal at the top.  And Pender had seen the primary
  signature a couple of times; it didn't look forged though of
  course he wasn't an expert.  He doubted it was.  The message
  contained was probably genuine too.  It had six names registered
  for removal from the hospital, though their designation was
  vague.
 
  Pender frowned and handed the paper back. "As far as I can tell,
  it's legitimate."
 
  The man's smug smile was wiped away by the agent's next words.
  "However, you don't have the authorization.  I can't even allow
  you to speak with these people without permission from my
  director or from the Director of the Bureau."
 
  "If you'll re-examine the signatures," growled the man, "you will
  see that the authorities in question all rank above Director
  Skinner."
 
  Pender made a show of looking at the paper again.  "I see that.
  I'm sorry, but it doesn't change a thing.  I need the Director's
  permission, not that of his superiors."  He smiled at the man
  calmly.
 
  The man glared in return. "You will also note," he growled, "that
  any of those signatures could be found on your pink slip."
 
  "Is that a threat?  My job's pretty secure," Pender snapped,
  losing his grip on his patience.  "It doesn't matter, I wouldn't
  let you through if you were the President of the United States
  himself.  Now get out of here before I arrest you."
 
  "Is that a threat?" demanded the man coolly.
 
  "Yes," Pender informed him.  For extra measure he shifted his
  hand down to his holster, which he had neglected to button after
  returning his gun to it.
 
  The man watched the motion and blanched slightly.  Good, as
  Pender suspected.  A bureaucrat, they were trying to do this
  through legal channels first.  Threats to careers were what this
  man was used to handling.  Not threats to life.
 
  "It would go a lot easier on you if you'd simply allow me to do
  my job," muttered the man.
 
  "It would go a lot easier on /you/ if you'd simply leave quietly
  and never return," Pender replied, not budging his hand but
  closing his fingers around the gun butt.  Not the easiest of
  measures to explain to any board he might encounter in his
  future, but oh well.  He never considered himself a diplomat.
 
  And it worked; the man left, complaining strenuously all the way.
  Pender had little hope that he'd stay gone, but was satisfied for
  the moment simply to have him out of sight.
 
  He turned the doctor, who had observed the entire exchange with
  interest. "I'd appreciate it if you didn't mention this to..." he
  began, and trailed off.  She would need to give her account to
  Mulder at least, and he wasn't going to tell anyone to lie.  That
  was the opposite of what he believed, of what he stood for.
 
  "You could have just been resting your hand," offered the doctor
  with a smile. "I don't think I really have to give little details
  like where you were resting it, do I?"
 
  The only reason Pender didn't laugh out loud was because he
  hadn't done so for so long he had to make a conscious effort when
  he wanted to.  "Thanks," he said instead. "That'd be helpful."
  Then he got down to business. "Now, what happened here?  I
  realize you don't know who he was, but how did you know to stop
  him?"
 
  "I was told..." the doctor paused, visibly collecting her
  thoughts, ordering her memories.  "I'm on the night shift, I only
  got in two hours ago.  I was told last night about the patients
  there," and she gestured down the hall, "but was also told I
  needn't concern myself with them.  Tonight I was specifically
  told not only to keep away from them but to keep others away too.
  It's not quarantine but the rules are the same."
 
  Pender nodded confirmation and she continued.  "Twenty minutes
  ago I came to get coffee and saw three men, in suits, entering
  the hall.  Since security wasn't in sight I asked for their
  identification myself, and they showed me FBI badges.  I heard
  you guys were around, so I thought they might be legit, but to
  make sure I asked one of the officers in the hall, guarding the
  door.  He called over someone from inside who was definitely FBI,
  Director Mulder he said he was, and the moment that director laid
  eyes on the three men they took off running.
 
  "He--the director--told me, before he chased after them, to watch
  here and make sure nobody entered.  And it's a good thing he did,
  because five minutes later that annoying SOB you just sent off
  was here demanding entrance.  I'd've let him go in, too, if it
  wasn't for those orders.  After arguing with him these last ten
  minutes, you finally showed up on your own--I couldn't go get
  some assistance because I knew he'd just sneak in.  And with that
  letter those officers would have let him through." The doctor
  ended her tale with a sharp nod, confident that she'd acted
  correctly.
 
  Pender focused on the part that concerned him; most of it he had
  already deduced from what he had seen.  "Director Mulder, you say
  he pursued the three men trying to break in?"
 
  "Yes, they ran for the stairs and he pursued.  I'd say they were
  heading outside."
 
  "And he hasn't come back yet?"
 
  The moment the doctor began to shake her head he reached for his
  celphone, only to clutch empty space.  Guss had it, he recalled.
  His partner had lost it during the abductees' return and Pender
  had given him his own tonight, because he said he was going to
  sleep and Guss was keeping watch.  Actually he had gone to see
  Scully but he wasn't about to admit that to the other agents yet.
 
  Unfortunately that meant he didn't have the celphone now.  And
  Guss was watching the other side of the building, which explained
  why he wasn't here now.  Mulder wasn't watching this side, he was
  supposed to have been but Pender had made him sleep, only of
  course the director /had/ to do his job--
 
  By this time Pender was already on the first floor and in another
  second he was out in the hospital's parking lot.  He scanned the
  area quickly, looking for the man he had so recently chased off.
  No sign of him.
 
  Then he saw a figure jogging down the hospital driveway.  He was
  heading toward him, not away, but he was wearing a suit and to be
  safe Pender pulled his gun. "FBI, don't move!"
 
  "Freeze yourself!" hollered back the figure.
 
  "Guss?" Pender demanded.
 
  "I lost him," his partner said as he approached.  "Assuming
  you're looking for the man that just departed the hospital.  He
  was on foot and I had him covered and was about to grab him when
  a car pulled up between us and ten seconds later took off going
  about ninety.  I got the plates at least."
 
  "They'll be a dead end," Pender dismissed any hope.  "Guss, how'd
  you know to be out here?"
 
  "Director's orders, about fifteen minutes ago.  How come you're
  here at all?" Guss shot back.
 
  Pender ignored the query for the moment.  "The director told you
  himself?"
 
  "He called me." Guss indicated the celphone.  "Don't worry,
  Pender, he hasn't exactly run off.  He's chasing down more
  suspects and he's called for backup--Gibbons and Dubzinski are
  following in the other car." He gestured at the empty space their
  rental car had occupied half an hour prior.
 
  "Give me back my phone," Pender commanded, snatching it out of
  his partner's hands.  He auto-dialed Gibbons' number.
 
  It was answered after one trilling ring. "Dubzinski here."
 
  "Dubz?  Where's Gibbons?"
 
  "Next to me.  She's driving pursuit."
 
  "You're on their tail?"
 
  "Sure thing, it's not too hard, the back roads are empty this
  time of night."
 
  "Where's Mulder?"
 
  "Behind us, should I wave to him?"
 
  Pender didn't get a chance to respond.  "Damn," Dubzinski swore.
  "They just switched off their lights--" Pender heard two oaths
  shouted simultaneously and a faint screech of brakes.
 
  "What happened?" he demanded.
 
 
 
  End Part 2


Dubzinski's voice grew louder as he brought the phone back up to
his head.  In the background Pender made out Gibbons muttering
expletives.  "There's a fork in the road, they flashed the high
beams to blind us and then switched 'em totally off.  They must
know this area, and we can't tell which road they took.  And
Mulder just passed us with his own lights off--"

The celphone trilled.  Pender heard a beep as Dubzinski punched
the button for multi-conversation.  "Duzins--"

"You and Gibbons try the right, I've taken the left of the fork,"
the director's voice commanded. "These roads don't have any turn-
offs for miles, we might be able to--" He broke off.

"Mulder?" Pender demanded.

"Never mind, I see them," was the reply.  

"Do we follow you, sir?" Dubzinski inquired urgently.

"No, we're pretty far ahead.  You get back to the hospital and
make sure everything's secure--everything is, correct, Pender?"

"Everything's fine here at the moment," he answered.  He assumed
it was; Guss had gone back into the hospital, keeping watch
there.  Pender remained outside, on the off-chance that one of
the culprits might return. "After you left some official turned
up but I chased him off--"

"What did he want?" Mulder demanded.

"To move some of our patients--he had a list and a document with
several influential names."

"What names?"

Pender told them.  Dubzinski whistled. "They're really calling
out the big guns, aren't they?"

"We need to find better protection," the director muttered.  "If
they're mobilizing this fast, we have to find a way--"

"We're working on it--" Pender began, and was interrupted by
another trill, again not from his phone.  Mulder answered it;
Pender heard him say, "Yes?"

The voice that answered was female, but it wasn't Wong, as Pender
had half-expected it to be. "Mulder, what's going on?  Where are
you?"

"Who are you?" Dubzinski replied, but was overridden by the
director, who filled in the mysterious interrogator with a few
terse sentences.  He ended with, "...and you're alright?"

"I'm fine, Mulder, who else is listening to this?"

"Pender," Pender said, overlapping Dubzinski's query, "This is
Dubzinski but who are /you/?  How'd you get our number?"

"Your director gave it to me, along with the celphone," explained
the woman on the line.

"It's your phone, Dubzinski," the director himself added.

"So that's why you...but who--"

"It's Agent Scully," Pender informed him quietly.

"/Who/--"

The questioning stopped then because a thin crackle of static
came over the line, followed by a distant rumbling noise. "What's
going on?" Pender asked, at the same time Scully said, "What's
happening, Mulder?"

"I'm on a dirt road," Mulder explained, "I think the power cables
might be interfering.  We're on a long driveway--" All sound
ceased.  "Their lights are on again.  I'm stopping now, there are
some trees in the way.  If I'm lucky they won't see the car."
Another short pause and then he continued with the report.
"They've stopped too.  There's a large brick building here, two
stories, no idea what it's doing out here.  Maybe an abandoned
factory? They're getting out, four of them."

"Where are you?" Dubzinski asked. "Gibbons and I can be back-up."

"I'm not precisely sure," the director replied.  "I can manage
myself, you continue back--"

"Sir!  Director Mulder!" Pender snapped. "You can't arrest four
men by yourself--"

"I don't necessarily mean to arrest them.  Just ask a few
questions."

"They are most likely armed--"

"So am I, Pender.  And I don't plan on going after all of them.
Simply looking around inside this place might be enough--"

"Who knows how many are inside?  Sir, please wait until we can
send a team--"

"If they find I'm here, they'll clear out by morning.  If they
even suspect they were followed..."

"Mulder--" Pender protested, trying to keep desperation out of
his tone.

"Mulder," another voice joined his, "Mulder, he's right, don't
risk this."

"Scully, they'll get away."

"You know where they are," Pender said quietly.

"I'm sure a team can be sent over in a few hours, if you'd just
find out where you are," Scully agreed.

"A few hours is all they need to disappear.  You know that."

Pender had the peculiar feeling that he was eavesdropping but he
couldn't help but add his own thoughts. "It won't be of any help
if you disappear with them."

"Please, Mulder, just come back and send out someone else, you
have a whole team..."

"...at your beck and call," Dubzinski spoke up suddenly.  "We're
almost at the hospital--"

"--I can get a cruiser to come round, we can wake up Wong and
Burnett and head out there now," Pender completed the thought.

"But they need to know where to go," Scully told the director.

He sighed clearly over the phone. "Alright.  Alright, I'll get
back on the road and figure out where I am--"

The retort of a gunshot was unmistakable, tinny and distant
though it was over the celphone.  "Director?" Pender shouted, at
the same instant Dubzinski demanded, "Sir?" and Scully cried,
"Mulder?"

Pender pressed the phone so close to his ear that it hurt.  He
could make out the revving of an automobile engine and the crunch
of tires on gravel.  Then another gunshot, this one accompanied
by a ringing crack.

"Mulder, what's going on?" Scully spoke for the three of them.  A
third shot sounded.  "Mulder?" she repeated, her voice growing
louder and higher in pitch.

The noise lessened, the grumble of the car on the dirt road
replaced by a smoother growl as the vehicle picked up speed.
Pender heard someone catch his breath and knew it wasn't his own
self when Mulder spoke. "I'm okay.  Don't bother sending that
team."

"What happened?" Scully asked yet again.

"They must have had perimeter alarms inside.  And you were right,
Pender," his tone only faintly grudging, "they were armed."

"With what?"

"An eight-caliber shotgun, I think," Mulder said.  "Anyone know a
good auto-repair shop in the area?  My windshields are shot--for
lack of a better term..."

"Are you injured?" Scully inquired urgently.

"I'm fine," he assured her. "A couple of nicks from flying glass.
Nothing serious."

"Should we still come?" Dubzinski asked.

"No."  Mulder's voice was a mix of command and anger.  "Don't try
it, they'll be ready for you.  Maybe in the morning, but they'll
almost definitely be cleared out by then.  We've lost them." The
line buzzed briefly as he broke the connection.

A second buzz heralded Scully's hang-up.  "You still there,
Dubz?"

"Present and accounted for.  Pender, what in hell was that all
about? Who was that agen--"

"Later for that.  You get back here now--and pick up Wong and
Burnett on the way," Pender replied.  "We have to figure out how
to protect these people."  He switched off the phone and returned
to the hospital, calling Guss into the waiting room.  Fifteen
minutes later the rest of the team arrived.

"Okay," Pender began.  "You," and he nodded and Wong and Burnett,
"have been filled in on what just occurred, right?"  They
confirmed this and he continued.  "We knew these people were in
danger.  That letter that man had gives us some idea what--and
who--we're really up against.  I don't think there's much doubt
those signatures were legit.

"These people were all declared dead.  And some of them were
declared nonexistent, specifically so people like ourselves
wouldn't discover why they had vanished."  He allowed them a
second of prideful smirking.  Nothing could stay a secret from
them for long; that was why they were all a part of this team.
Once they all acknowledged this he went on.  "These people are
both alien abductees and human abductees.  They were taken for
testing by their own people as well as by flying saucers, and
those others want the evidence of this gone.  I don't know how
far they'll go to accomplish that goal--but I'm willing to bet
that murder is not out of bounds.  Kidnapping certainly.

"Those returned been through enough already, I think we all want
them to be safe.  We have to find some way to protect them.
Something better than simply giving them a bodyguard or two and
keeping them locked away in a hospital, since it's obvious that
isn't working."

"Besides, you said it," Gibbons remarked.  "They've been through
enough.  They should be able to go home.  They're back on Earth--
I think they want to be back at their own homes.  With their own
families." She looked at each of her fellow agents in turn.  "I
know that's what I'd want."

"That's what the ones I've spoken to have asked for," Wong added
quietly, and the others nodded in agreement.

"That is exactly what we need, a way to protect them without
interfering with their return to their homes," Pender stated, not
mentioning aloud that in one case, returning to home would have
an impact on the X-files division itself, and on the division's
director.  There would be time to discuss that later, answer all
those questions that bubbled right beneath the team's surface
calm.  Right now..."Any ideas?"

"If our objective is to return them to their homes, the witness
protection program wouldn't serve," Burnett commented.

"Nor hiding them away in a high-security area," Wong agreed.

"Though maybe hiding's our best bet," Dubzinski said slowly.
"Try to shuffle them back in without letting 'them' find out.
Half these folks don't even exist...no records of addresses or
phone numbers, no way to track them.  Just tell them to keep a
low profile..."

Pender shook his head. "The one place records of these people
probably do exist is in the files of their enemies.  And only
some of them were 'erased' as it was."

Gibbons tapped her fingers on her leg. "You know, maybe the
witness protection program is a good idea after all.  Contact
their families and have them all change identities together.
They'd have to settle somewhere else but they'd have some
elements of their old life..." She paused and shook her own head.
"Awfully tough to restart completely over, though, just when you
thought you were home."

"Besides," said her partner, "if Pender's right, they probably
got access to the program's records anyhow.  They'd find them.
That's the problem," and he sighed, "where can we hide them that
they can't be found? I don't think they'd appreciate it, but at
this point it seems like the only place they'd be safe would be
in outer space..."

"Maybe that'd be the only safe place to /hide/ them," Guss said
quietly.

Pender turned at his partner's first words. "What do you mean?"

"I mean," Guss answered, obviously still lost in thought, "that
we can't really hide them, right?  There's no place, no way to.
So why hide them at all?"  He shifted his gaze outward and met
the eyes of the others.  "If we hide them, then their deaths will
be hidden too.  That's just what these others want."

As one the other agents nodded, instantly understanding his
point.  "So," he continued, "why not do the opposite?  Instead of
keeping them in the dark--"

"--put them in the spotlight," Pender completed the sentence.
"Make sure everybody knows who they are--"

"--Make sure that their deaths would be more publicized than the
newest Star Wars film," Dubzinski exclaimed. "So any move our
mutual foes make--"

"--is fully, totally, unavoidably exposed!" Gibbons was grinning.
"I like it, what do you think, Pender?"

"I'm wondering why it took us so long to think up," Pender
murmured.

"We'll need the director's permission to implement this plan,"
Burnett reminded them.

"Not to mention the permission of the patients," Wong added. "If
you're planning on calling every news hound in the country onto
their heels they should hear about it first."

Pender already had his celphone in his hands.  He nodded at
Wong's words. "We'll ask them in the morning if they'll allow
their names and so forth to be given out.  We can at least call
the reporters, providing Mulder allows it." The other end of the
line rang once and then it was picked up. "Mulder."

"Director, we have an idea." Pender outlined the plan and the
reasoning behind it.

"Hold a second, please, so I can talk this over," the director
said.  Pender waited with impatience for three minutes or so and
then Mulder came back on. "It sounds feasible, though Scully
wants to make sure nobody's names are released without their
permission.  She extends her own."

"We're going to ask them tomorrow," Pender replied.  "But we'll
call the cavalry in right away."  He hung up and turned to the
others. "Green light, people! Tomorrow this'll hit the front page
of every paper--but first we got to organize a press release."  

They had nearly completed this when the door opened and a nervous
nurse stuck his head in.  "Excuse me?  Are you the FBI agents?"

Pender stood. "What's wrong?"

"Sir, there's a woman out here, she is insisting on entering the
restricted area but I was told--"

"I'll see to it," Pender assured her.  The nurse, clearly
relieved, lead him directly to the woman and then retreated back
behind his desk.

Since they had yet to call any reporters, chances were good that
this woman was not on the level.  She didn't appear threatening,
however.  She was alone, dressed casually, and her expression was
not in the least bit like the cold, emotionless look of the men
earlier that night.  Pender couldn't read all the feelings mixed
onto her face, but they were obviously strongly felt--worry,
hope, and anger predominating.  To top it off, she was both
rather older and smaller than Pender.  Not especially a
threatening figure.

"May I help you, ma'am?"

"Who are you?" the woman demanded.

Pender smoothly flipped out his badge. "Special Agent Pender of
the FBI.  Now, what are you trying to do?"

"I have to, please let me--" She took a deep breath and steadied
herself. "I was told that my daughter was here.  I need to know
if this is true, please, my name is Margaret Scully and my
daughter is--"

"Dana Scully," Pender told her.  "How did you hear this?"

"Please, is it true, I was called by another agent," the words
rushed out.

Pender had no wish to disturb her even further.  Instead he said,
"Follow me," and took her arm, guiding her to Room 53.

A quick knock and the director opened the door.  He immediately
saw past Pender to the woman with him.  "Mrs. Scully," and
without another word he hugged her, a quick hug very like one
gives close relations.

"Fox," Mrs. Scully said, "she's here?"

"She's inside, she's alive," and he lead her through the door.
Pender heard her gasp with what sounded like the beginning of a
sob, heard another voice say, "Mom?" and then he conscientiously
shut the door, not wanting to eavesdrop on a family reunion.  He
returned to the waiting room, frowning thoughtfully and muttering
to himself in a shocked tone, "*Fox*?"

In that short period the release had been completed.  The others
were already on the phone, dialing various news agencies to
spread the word.  Since it was three o'clock in the morning,
Pender yawned and told the team, "I'm going to the hotel, they
won't be here before six."

"Hold on, Pender," Gibbons said.  "That gives us three hours."

"Yes," Pender agreed.  "Three hours of sleep.  After twenty-four
without I'm looking forward to it."

Dubzinski stood and positioned himself strategically between
Pender and the door, which Guss had just closed. "Three hours,
which can be spent much more productively than simple sleeping,"
Gibbons stated.

"How?" Pender demanded.  He was definitely too tired for this.

"By answering a few simple questions," Burnett answered.  

"Like who /exactly/ is that woman in Room 53?" Wong gave an
example.

Pender groaned. "I do need sleep," he protested weakly.

He was positive they all exchanged wicked glances then.  It was
Gibbons who outright said it--"Maybe you're too tired to
cunningly avoid questions, you think?"

Raising his hands in a gesture of surrender, Pender sat down
again.  "What do you want to know?"


The following day nearly every paper in the country, not simply
tabloids as would have been the case only half a decade before,
had a long article on the incredible reappearance of sixty
people, back on Earth after five years' absence.  At first
several of the more respectable papers were wary of stating with
certainty that the people in question were truly alien abductees.
But after a solid week of interviews on tape, paper, and film,
with the abductees and the FBI agents who found them; after a
multitude of scientists spoke to them and questioned them
closely; after the families of the people in question came
forward, many with their own experiences to tell, few people
doubted that they had in fact come from an extended stay in outer
space.

The question was raised as to why the disappearances of these
people had been so much less publicized.  The accepted
explanation, concocted by some unknown soul, was out of simple
embarrassment--the government was proud to flaunt its successes
and covered up its failures.  Why nothing more sinister was
offered was not a question in anyone's mind.  Most people didn't
have suspicions and those that did already knew the answer--more
cover-ups.  Most of those suspicious ones were surprised that any
of the story made it out at all.

The publicity had its intended effect, as far as those
responsible could tell.  No more threats to the safety of those
sixty were made.  After the first week the journalist swarms at
least were small enough that the people could shove through them,
back to their homes.

Not everyone returned to their old lives.  They had been declared
dead, for all intents and purposes.  Most of them had lost their
houses or apartments as well as their jobs.  Some of them had
lost families, to death or marriage or remarriage in a couple of
sad cases.  But they found overall that their new fame was an
asset in finding new places to live and work.  Many of them found
new homes very like their old ones.

A few purposely took different paths, chose lifestyles they
wanted, taking the experience as a chance to start again, do it
right this time.  And several relationships had formed through
that awful year--for them--on the ship that did not break apart
when back on Earth.  Two even went to Hollywood--the screenplay
they were co-authoring was the easiest thing in the world to
write; after all, they had lived most of it personally.

But most tried to return to their old routine, their old life.

Only three weeks after her return, Dana Scully entered the J.
Edgar Hoover Building and proceeded up two flights of stairs to
the office of the Director of the FBI.

She had an appointment; the secretary waved her in without a
pause.

Director Skinner stood the moment she entered, smiling and
extending his hand.  She took it, unable to prevent a grin from
covering her own face.  "Agent Scully, it's damn good to have you
back."

Of course there was only one response to that, and cliche as it
might be, it was exactly how she felt. "It's great to /be/ back,
sir."

He gestured for her to sit down but continued to stand behind his
desk.  Scully felt a welcome wave of familiarity.  The office
might be different, the picture of the president changed and the
plate on the desk saying Director instead of Assistant Director,
but the feel was identical to memories from five years ago.  Or
one year ago.  

Or in some ways, five years before that, when the man behind the
desk was Blevins and she was only being assigned to the X-files
to de-bunk them.  Such thoughts lead her eyes on a quick survey
of the office, and she noticed suddenly the absence of ashtrays,
but Skinner spoke and her attention was channeled away.

"You know, I assume, of the changes the X-files division has gone
through."

Scully nodded swiftly. "I know that I'm the eighth agent there
now.  And that Mulder's the director, of course."

Skinner looked her in the eyes.  "How much has he told you,
Scully?  I imagine you've spoken to him some."

"Yes, sir."  'Some' was most definitely an understatement, and
Scully was sure Skinner knew this.



End Part 3

Title: Horizons: Homecoming, pt 4/12


The truth was, a day hadn't gone by that Mulder hadn't seen her
four or five or six times, and many more hours.  The first week,
he was the 'bodyguard' that all the abductees had had for the
first week.  Helping hold back the steady flood of journalists
and reporters and interviewers at her mother's door--as well as
well-wishers and curiosity seekers and an amazing array of UFO
buffs.  Some of those buffs were quite respectable people--in
fact, most of them were, since the seedier ones didn't make it
past the police protection warnings for the most part.

A few did, of course.  Two of which--well, three but the third
appeared respectable--had been ushered in by Mulder himself.
Scully had herself been surprised by the tears that came to her
eyes when she saw them.  She didn't mind their quick hugs,
smiling at their reactions when she returned them--Langly looked
uncomfortable, Byers startled, and Frohike...breathless.  A nice,
nondescriptive word that wouldn't detail the salicious wink he
gave her afterwards.

They and other friends and family were welcome, but as for the
rest she was incredibly glad Mulder was there to push them back
when they got too inquisitive.  Her mother was an enormous help
as well, of course.  Scully stayed at her house for the first two
weeks, since her own apartment had been sold a few years before.
Margaret was unbelievably patient with the whole endless string
of callers (at the door; for the most part the phone stayed
unplugged).

After the first week, when the flood turned more manageable and
so far not one of the abductees had been threatened, the
bodyguards departed.  Except for Mulder, who stayed almost as
present as before.  He returned to his work half-heartedly,
spending early mornings, lunch-breaks, and all evenings over at
Mrs. Scully's, with her daughter.

Scully was happy with this arrangement.  They had lost five
years, she was no less determined than Mulder to catch up with
them.  She did mention how this might affect his work, but Mulder
shrugged it off.  "Skinner and the division know where I am, if
they need to reach me."

"And Skinner doesn't mind a director who doesn't direct?"

"I think," Mulder said slowly, "that he knows I'll work better
than ever when you're back with me, so he's willing to live with
it for now."  His expression was unreadable, a look Scully was
growing accustomed to.  Without being specific it spoke of five
years, a lifetime or a time in which nothing lived.  The brief
glimpses of it she got were enough that she wondered if she
indeed wanted the whole story.  Mulder was not willing to talk
about it, and she hadn't pressed then.

A week later she found an apartment, began rebuilding her life
anew.  To her surprise and pleasure the building she had lived in
before had a vacancy, and her new apartment was directly above
her old one.

Mulder helped her move in.  He and her mother had kept most of
her things; her mother had saved practical items like furniture,
while Mulder had carefully stored away her own small music
collection, library, and even videos...she had to go through his
own collection to find them, a task worth it simply for the
expression on his face as she did so.  

Scully couldn't help but wonder, though, that he had kept it all,
since he hadn't been using them.  A sign, she guessed, of his
conviction that she wasn't dead and she wasn't gone for good.
And she wondered at the price of that conviction; what had it
cost him to believe when she had a headstone in the same cemetery
as her sister's?  When her own mother had thought her dead and
buried and mourned?

It certainly explained the triumph that occasionally sparked in
his eyes of late, a look which proclaimed to the world, "I was
correct, I have my partner again!"  Even--especially, really--her
mother had commented on it.

Well, he did have her back.  And she fully intended to be his
partner again.  A week after moving in she called the central
Bureau offices and the next day she returned, and now was in the
office talking to Skinner.

Yes, I know about the six other agents.  She hadn't met most of
them personally, but Mulder occasionally dropped references.

And there was the matter of the automobile that had generally
been parked outside her mother's house at night--it changed daily
but it was noticeable.  She had mentioned it to Mulder but
instead of being concerned he had smiled slightly and told her
not to worry, it was there at his orders.  At least once she
thought the person watching resembled the agent she had briefly
conversed with in the hospital; from that she deduced who the
others were as well, and Mulder had confirmed it.

"How much has he told you about the reasons behind expanding the
X-files section?" Skinner asked her.

Scully shifted slightly in her chair.  "Enough, I think.  Just
from looking at the papers I could have determined most of them.
And from all the journalists I've been talking with.  

"I know that the X-files are a matter of public knowledge now.  I
know that the Bureau values them enough at this point that they
are in almost zero danger of being closed again.  And I know that
what they investigate is no longer considered as extreme as it
once was."

"No longer as out there," Skinner agreed.  The Director turned
partly so that he was looking out of the window behind his desk.
"Scully, have you heard about Mulder's sister?"

Interesting, the wording was almost identical to that of her
mother's, two weeks ago.  When her mother had asked she had used
first names, but...

Scully had been reading the papers voraciously, trying to absorb
half a decade's worth of news in as short a time as possible.
She had started with current events and worked her way back, but
she soon came across a confusing point.

He mother had a talent for explaining matters succinctly and to
the point, while Mulder sometimes hedged and besides was ignorant
often enough on commonplace affairs.  So she went to Margaret
with her question.  "Mom? How come half the major papers have a
UFO column?  Why are sightings regularly on the news? We're
abductees, I understand that everyone believes us, but that
doesn't explain /why/ they believe us.  Or this--" indicating a
New York Times column five years ago found only in supermarket
tabloids.

Her mother sighed.  "You should ask Fox."

"/Mulder/ already believed.  He'll be biased explaining how he
convinced everyone else." Scully knew instinctively that her
partner had to be involved in this change of public opinion.

"Dana, have you heard about Fox's sister?" her mother asked.

"What do you mean?"  Dana hadn't heard that her mother had heard
of Samantha, certainly.

"Ask him about it," her mother told her.  "He should tell you
himself." Scully would have protested but she went on.  "Dana, he
needs to talk about it.  I don't know if he ever has.  He
wouldn't say a word about it to me..."  Actually, Scully found
out eventually, he hadn't said much of anything to her mother.
Cut himself off from everyone.  Margaret had called him many
times at first, invited him over, but he rarely accepted.  She
had told her daughter that she suspected he blamed himself, that
he was ashamed to be with his partner's family when he thought
that he had lost her.  

Knowing Mulder, Scully agreed with this diagnose, and was almost
as angry, frustrated, and upset with Mulder as her mother had
been.  It was so like him to simply refuse all attempts at help,
he preferred to wallow in misery and guilt alone.  Margaret
hadn't even seen him, much less spoken to him, in over six
months, when he called her to say her daughter was back, alive,
in a hospital in Wisconsin, and then hung up.

With all this in mind, Scully found a time to draw Mulder aside
and ask him.  Quietly, gently.  There was more going on here than
Samantha's abduction, that everyone seemed to know about.  So she
asked him what it was.

The answer came out, not too slow or too fast, measured, even
pace, even voice.  How five years ago at midnight, a light shone
in a field, and an officer proceeding to the scene found there an
old woman, dressed in white, unconscious.

The next day, Mulder recounted, he was called in, not only
because the woman claimed to be an abductee, but because she
claimed her name to be Samantha Mulder.  And driving out to the
hospital he tried calling Scully, but there was no answer, and
there would be no answer for five years.  But he didn't know that
then, he simply left a message on her machine and assumed she
would call whenever she got in from wherever she was.

"You had been driving back from your mother's," Mulder added on
the side.  "They found your car fifty miles away two days later.
Two lucky auto thieves had discovered it, motor idling, in the
middle of the street."  Scully nodded; she remembered pieces of
that night, driving along home on a deserted street and then the
bright flash, and when it faded she was in a ship a thousand
miles above the Earth's surface.  But she had told Mulder this
already and instead bade him to continue with his own story.

He didn't recognize her, his own sister, at first.  And neither
did she recognize him.  But...so many memories from long ago were
shared by the two of them.  And a simple blood-test; her blood
was red and the DNA matched with his family.  He called his
mother and she came and Samantha had an easier time recognizing
her.  And even though she could barely see the resemblance
Samantha learned to accept the tall solemn man as her brother Fox
even as he learned to accept this ancient woman as his sister.

Mulder went silent after he told Scully this, drawn into himself
and his memories.  Just as she was about to ask him more, right
before she pushed him, he started to speak again on his own.  Not
to her, his eyes trained on empty space instead.  But she was
there to hear it, and she listened closely all the same.

He spoke of what it was like at first, to have his sister back
again.  Of how they laughed and cried and talked about the
intervening years.  Of the Stratego game he snuck into the
hospital and the late nights talking and how it was so easy
sometimes to forget how old they were, either of them, the short
moments when age didn't matter and it was only Fox and Sam.

Of how other people also asked questions and how he fought to
make them believe what his sister told them.  Of how they brought
in scientists and how some of them learned to believe.  Of
endless tests on Samantha and how he blocked the worst of them
but couldn't prevent her from being prodded and quizzed and
scanned and drained.  

Of how some of those tests showed that she was aging, dying; but
how none of them showed what could be done about it.  Of how it
happened later on that her mind wandered, that some form of
senility came upon her and she sometimes wouldn't know who he
was, or she was, or where she was.  How sometimes she thought she
was being taken again and sometimes she cried out for her brother
Fox and couldn't understand that it was he beside her, holding
her.  

It all came pouring out in a disorganized rush, and Scully
patiently stayed with the flow and understood most of it.  Mixed
into what he said of Samantha was mention of herself, how he
wasn't told for more than a week that she was missing, how there
were no clues and no starting point and he couldn't spend all his
time searching because his sister needed him.

Later on, when Samantha died, he would blame himself that Scully
had not been found, because at the time clues might have been
uncovered he was elsewhere.  He would blame himself for not
knowing about it the first week, though from what Scully had
heard it sounded like her disappearance had purposely been hidden
from him.  

By the end of the story his breath was coming in short sharp
gasps and his face was pressed against his fists.  "She died in
the end, all the hospitals and doctors and medicines in the world
couldn't stop old age.  And after the funeral...I realized I
didn't have anything else, so I went back to work."

"Back to the X-files," Scully said quietly.

"I thought--I thought I could find you, I thought if I looked
hard enough, long enough, did everything, I could bring you back.
But Skinner wouldn't let me work alone, he forced a partner onto
me--I'm sorry Scully, I'm sorry, I didn't want to betray you..."

"How did you betray me?" Scully demanded, very gently.

"I got another partner.  I got a new team to work the X-files.
And I didn't find you.  I didn't save you."

"Mulder."  Scully reached out, took his head in her hands so she
could look him in the eyes.  "I'm here.  You did find me in the
end--"

He shook his head, denied it.  "I was told where to go, but it
was them who returned you--"

Scully shook her own head. "It doesn't matter.  It doesn't
matter, Mulder.  You were there.  You found me.  And I'm back
now, Mulder.  I'm not going anywhere.  I promise."

"Do you--are you willing to come back to the X-files?  Sometime
in the future?" he asked hesitantly.

"I want to come back.  Not sometime in the future.  Right now.
As soon as I can."  She smiled at him.  "I still have a place
there, right?"

"You'll always have a place.  You're my partner," Mulder told
her, the fervent affirmation in his voice also burning in his
eyes.  Scully recognized fanaticism when she saw it, but that had
always been a component of Mulder's personality and she accepted
it willingly.

Lacking anything to say that could match it, she heeded the old
adage that actions speak louder than words and put her arms
around him.  And though the hug wasn't as convulsive as the one
she received when she first had been returned, the emotions
behind it were just as many and just as powerful.

Skinner's voice drew her away from recent memories.  "Agent
Scully, I have one more question.  It's personal, but I need your
honest answer.  Do you feel you're fully ready to return to work?
Are you recovered sufficiently from your--" for once he
hesitated, if only for a second "--your experience?  You can
perform your duties unimpaired?"

"With complete honesty," Scully replied, "I may need a couple of
hours on the firing range to get back in practice, and I've been
doing some catch-up work with medical journals but my science is
still slightly out-of-date.  But emotionally, I'm ready, sir.  I
feel confident that I can do my job better than ever.  I've had a
year-long leave of absence, and now I'm anxious to return to
work."

The Director wavered for a bit between unease over the almost
casual way she described the last five years and pleasure at the
enthusiasm in her voice.  He went with the latter emotion and
smiled.  "As I said, we at the FBI are lucky to have you with us
again."

He stood and she quickly imitated the action, then shook hands
with him.  "And now, Agent Scully, better get to your post.  The
new X-files office is down one story, the third door on the
right.  The agents and Director Mulder are expecting you."  As
she headed for the door, he added, "Good luck, Scully.  It'll
take a little time for you to get acclimated, but I think you'll
fit in fine with all of them.  And welcome back!"

"Thank you, sir," she said and then proceeded out and down the
stairs to her new offices.

The door was clearly marked with a brass plaque reading, "X-files
Division, Federal Bureau of Investigation" and beneath that in
smaller letters "Director Fox Mulder."  A step up from the little
black-and-white sign that had marked their offices five years
ago.

The office itself was certainly larger and with more windows; but
somehow it managed to be even more cluttered, the walls and even
some of the windows covered with the familiar assortment of
articles, posters, x-rays, and other scraps of evidence and
memorabilia.  

If she ignored the extra windows and the presence of three large
desks instead of one, it felt almost exactly like the basement
office.  Just like a second home.

Except that was only if she ignored the six strangers in the room
as well.

One wasn't a complete stranger.  Agent Pender approached her
immediately.  "Agent Scully," he said.  "Welcome to the X-files."

"It's good to be back," she answered him automatically, examining
the other agents from the corners of her eyes.  They were all
watching her, and she couldn't read their expressions.  Not
openly hostile, but not welcoming, either.  Even Pender's look
belied his friendly words.

Mulder emerged from his office then, almost bouncing with
eagerness.  "Scully!  What do you think?  Like it?  An
improvement over the old domicile, you agree?"

"Definitely."  She looked around.  "Though somehow you manage to
have even less room to actually work in."

Mulder shrugged.  "As long as the work gets done, right?"  He
sobered slightly. "And we do have work.  Can you dive right in or
do you want some adjustment time first?"

"I told you, I'm ready."

Mulder's quick agreement was interrupted by Agent Pender. "Maybe
you should at least introduce her co-workers, sir.  We all know
you're Agent Dana Scully, but you--"

"I think I know you, actually," Scully remarked.  Mulder had
talked about the other agents enough that she had the names, and
they were each distinct enough to identify.  "You're Agent
Pender, of course--we already met."  Pender nodded.

The tall young man next to him, with similar dark hair and brown
eyes she also vaguely recognized, from the brief moment after the
abductees' return and before they were all whisked off to the
hospital.  "You're his partner, Terry Guss."

"Yes, ma'am."  There was either respect or a counterfeit of it in
his tone, she couldn't be sure.  There was also something odd in
the look he shot his partner but she couldn't be sure what that
was, either.

They were all standing in distinct pairs, which made the
identifying even simpler.  The large black man and the chestnut-
haired woman next to him were both watching her with identical
cool expressions.  "You're Dubzinski and Gibbons," she said,
indicating each respectively.  "I met you briefly over the cel-
phone."  Gibbons arched one eyebrow and Dubzinski smiled
slightly, remarking to her, "Right on."

The last two she hadn't really seen, except for brief glimpses
during their turns watching her house.  The blond man with the
thin face and light eyes--"You're Burnett,"  and his partner, a
slender Asian-American woman, "And you're Wong."  They nodded
simultaneously.

"She's good," Pender said suddenly.  Mulder glared at him but the
agent only shrugged.  "So far you're doing well," he continued,
speaking to her now.  "I hope you'll work out here."  That at
least sounded sincere.

"Agent Scully has experience with the X-files," Mulder reminded
his agents icily. "She'll do great, I guarantee it."

Scully almost smiled at the way every agent affected an
embarrassed, ashamed look, for all the world like a class being
scolded by a respected teacher.  Something in their eyes told her
it wasn't all a joke or a sham, either.  

Pender didn't take the reprimand lying down, though. "I realize,
sir," and he accented the 'sir' with something other than
obedience, "that Agent Scully has experience with cases like the
ones we deal with.  But there's more to the X-files than that
now, and she has to be able to work with us to work efficiently."

Scully decided that something needed to be proved here and it was
her duty to do so.  "I realize you have a team and I'm more than
willing to become part of it.  If you let me, I think I'll be
able to perform up to your standards, working with you."

"I think it's possible," Pender said quietly, and that sounded
sincere as well.

"Speaking of work, we all have some," Mulder said then, breaking
some of the heavy atmosphere.  "Scully, come into my office, I've
got some things to catch you up on and a case I need assistance
with.  Everybody else, back to it!"

Scully followed Mulder into his office, waiting until the door
was shut before speaking her mind.  "What are my chances of being
fully accepted by them?" she cut to the point.



End Part 4

Title: Horizons: Homecoming, pt 5/12


Mulder sat on his desk and folded his arms, staring at her shoes
moodily.  "Pretty good.  But it might take some time."

"I'll say.  You were more accepting of me at first than they
were."

"And considering the way I acted, that's not saying too much,"
Mulder agreed.

"Actually it says a lot, but nothing good," Scully sighed.  

"But we worked out right in the end," Mulder went on, "and if you
give them a chance and they give you one, this'll work too.
They're all very good at what they do, Scully.  And very good at
doing it as a team.  It always takes some time for the newest
member to find their place, but after that..."

"The question is, Mulder, do I have a place, or do I have to find
a new one?"

"What do you mean?" he asked, confused.

Scully leaned against the desk next to him.  "I'm your partner.
You keep telling me that.  Except you aren't an agent anymore.
You're a director."

"That doesn't change a thing," Mulder began.

"Yes it does."  She tapped her fingers on the desktop.  "I didn't
really realize it until just now.  The way you ordered them all
back to work and then ordered me into here."

"It wasn't meant to be an order," he protested.

"Maybe not, but that's what it was.  I'm not angry about it,
Mulder.  But it's a change.  You're not one of the team members,
you're the boss.  You give the commands and you're pretty used to
being obeyed.  From the way they act you're a democratic leader
but you're still the leader."  Scully grinned momentarily.  "I
didn't ever see you as the leader type, actually, Mulder."

"So I'm the director."

"Directors don't generally have partners.  Agents do.  But you
can't just go back to being an agent when this division needs a
director."

"And you agree that I'm not half-bad at the job.  So," Mulder put
his hand over her tapping fingers, stilled them.  "I don't follow
the mainstream.  This director, as of now, has a partner."  His
lips quirked into a smile she knew very well, and hadn't seen for
much too long.  "Who I, as director, hereby grant to be my
complete equal, under no obligation to obey my orders and with
full powers to issue her own orders--though I'm not obligated to
follow them myself.  I do ask one thing."

He waited for Scully's questioning look before continuing.  "I
ask for you to at least listen to my advice when I give it.  And
I ask for you to advise me.  Agreed?"

Scully stifled a sigh and smiled. "Agreed."

"Good."  But he had caught her trepidation. "Don't worry.  It'll
work.  Just be patient--with me, and with them--and you'll be a
full X-files agent and my partner again in no time."

Scully wasn't the only one with doubts.  In the main X-files
office Guss listened to plenty more.

He didn't say much himself.  Being the newest agent--well, second
newest, now--he didn't think he was particularly ready to pass
judgement on other agents' abilities.  Especially since Agent
Scully was in fact a well-experienced agent in the X-files and
had the director's full support besides.

But the others had no such qualms.  "We can't just accept her, no
questions asked," Gibbons protested.  "It doesn't work like that.
We don't work like that.  Instant team-members just don't happen,
not here."

"No matter what the director wants," Dubzinski backed her up.
"We don't know her at all, it might work out--"

"But it might not," Burnett said.  "There's no way to know.  But
will Mulder accept it if she doesn't work out?"

"He won't," Gibbons stated.  "You see the way he treats her,
talks to her, talks to /us/ about her.  There's no way he'll let
her go if she wants to stay."

"He does have confidence in her," Pender remarked. "That counts
for something."

"He had confidence in every agent we've ever had here.  Most of
them didn't work out--Guss was the sixth agent we tried!"

"But Agent Scully is the only agent who's ever been on trial who
actually has been part of the X-files.  Other than Mulder
himself," Pender replied.

"But we don't know her.  Just because he does doesn't mean that
we do," Gibbons snapped.

"You've told us something about her, Pender," Wong mentioned,
"but there still is the whole matter of her abduction.  She might
have changed from who Mulder knew."

"Can she still perform as the Agent Scully of five years ago?"
Burnett asked.

"And will Mulder accept it if she can't?" Wong concluded.

"The director's another concern," Gibbons said.  "I think we all
agree that he's--changed.  From who we knew before."  She raised
her hand to stop Pender.  "Not that I'm saying it's a bad thing.
We also all agree that it's definitely for the better.  But it
makes one think--what will happen with Mulder if something does
happen to her again?

"The Bureau's got rules against personal involvement between
partners, and for good reason.  We can't do our duties correctly
if we're too concerned over what our partner's doing."  She
looked them all over, every partnership among them based in firm
friendship.  "Now, we all are close, because that's how we work
best.  But we don't cross the line."

Again she had to forestall Pender's commentary. "I'm not saying
that Mulder crossed it with Scully.  Not like that.  I'm not
trying to imply anything.  But I think it's clear that his well-
being is tied up with her welfare somehow, and that concerns me.
And it should concern the rest of the team.  If the director can
be incapacitated--"

"He wasn't before," Pender finally got a word in.  "He can work
without her.  He has for the last five years," he reminded them.

"Will he be willing to again, though?" Gibbons demanded.  "I'm
not trying to insult the director, or undermine him, or anything
like that.  But it's a real concern I have, and one we all should
share, I think.  Is it safe for this division for our director to
have Agent Scully as a partner?"

"Or for her to even be in this division at all?" Burnett echoed
her. "If you follow Gibbons' logic.  It's a reasonable concern."

"One we should watch for," Pender said sharply. "But don't
dismiss Agent Scully outright on theoretical concerns.  Everyone
gets a fair trial in this division.  We all bring weaknesses as
well as strengths to the team.  And if you only evaluate Scully's
weaknesses and ignore her strengths--then you're a bigger
weakness than she is, and a liability that we should dispose of.  

"Don't form opinions based solely on your own ideas, wait to pass
judgement until you have something to judge.  Anything else is
prejudice against a single person, and we don't need that.  The
team can't survive with it.  Get it?"

"No anti-Scullyists.  We got it, Boss Pender," Dubzinski said,
adding a salute for good measure.

"But if we're against her after we know her?" Burnett asked.

"Then we go to Mulder and put up a good case," Pender said
calmly.  "And let him decide.  He is the director, after all."

"Which doesn't make him omniscient," Gibbons muttered, but not
loudly enough that Pender had to respond to it.

Instead he said, "Now, since he is director, let's be obedient
agents and return to work, like he told us to." And following his
own advice he seated himself at his desk and called Guss to join
him.

There were seven reports for them to look over and see if any
warranted personal attention.  Guss picked up one and looked at
it, seeing the words but not reading them.

"So what's your take on this?" Pender asked him in an undertone.

Guss knew his partner wasn't referring to the file.  "I'm new
myself.  I'm not sure I should even have one."

"Everybody's got opinions, Guss.  And you're part of this."

Guss nodded. "I understand with what Gibbons is saying.  I agree
with some of it.  But Pender, you told us who she was.  It sounds
like she's a top agent."

"She is, from everything I've heard."

"Would that hurt the team?  I saw her right after she was
returned, remember.  She was in control then, she knew what to
do, if I had been one of those abductees I would've been one of
the ones curled up in fetal position.  I think she's better than
us--I know she'll be a better agent then me."

"I wondered if anyone else was thinking that.  I think Gibbons
might be."

"She certainly doesn't want to accept Scully."

Pender inclined his head thoughtfully. "She'll come around, I
think.  I hope.  There will be problems otherwise."

"So," Guss said quietly, "I'm for her.  I think Scully should
stay.  But there is one thing that I've been wondering about.
Wong mentioned it briefly."

"Yes?"

"Well, we know Scully was a top agent five years ago.  But she
must have been affected /somehow/ by the abduction.  She might be
biased one way or another about other abductees.  She might have
other problems--"

"Phobias, paranoia, hallucinations, bad judgement, impaired
skills--the standard post-abduction trauma," Pender listed.
"She's been tested, I saw at least one psychological evaluation."

"You checked?" Guss wasn't all that surprised, though such an
evaluation would most likely be classified from his or his
partner's eyes.  Pender followed the rules--except when they
weren't beneficial to the team.

"I checked, and she came out clean, more than clean, spotlessly
perfect.  She's a straighter arrow than most of us."  Pender
grinned. "Can't help but wonder what sort of problems that might
cause.  Anyhow, Agent Scully is as balanced as they come, at
least when it comes to abductees."

"So I think, myself, that we should be welcoming her with open
arms," Guss said firmly.

"That makes two of us--three with Mulder.  Now the only problem
is bringing the others around."

"Pender," Guss said cautiously, "Are you for her?"

"I think I've made my position pretty clear."

"You're for Director Mulder," Guss replied. "I'm not sure that's
exactly the same thing."

"Maybe not," Pender answered.  "But for now, it's close enough."

And they got to work.  The others as well held whispered
conversations but recalled their duties soon enough, so when
Mulder and Scully emerged for lunch they all were quite busy.
The two headed out alone.  

Gibbons raised her eyebrows at the others.  "The director just
went out for lunch?  Without a single reminder from us?"

"Seems like Scully has her uses," Dubzinski remarked.  "I'll bet
you ten bucks that that's why he's been going at all lately when
we remind him."

"Anyone take a bet as to *where* he's been going for lunch?" Guss
asked.

"You mean, with whom," Dubzinski corrected. "I certainly know who
I'd put my money on--but so would everyone else.  No deal."

His partner nodded, slowly meeting the eyes of everyone else in
the office.  She didn't say a word, but her meaning was clear.

After the break they all continued work as usual, Mulder, with
Scully's accompaniment, checking on the others' cases.  He
dismissed several undecided as hoaxes or otherwise pointless, and
agreed with Gibbons and Dubzinski on the importance of one,
immediately dispatching them to check it out personally.  

Scully observed the group intently, learning how this new
division functioned, and offering her own opinions frequently.
Guss was surprised by many of them.  His own partner had been the
biggest skeptic of the team, not buying paranormal theories
without fairly solid proof.

But Pender's position was obviously threatened, because Agent
Scully proved to be a master of skepticism.  The way she spoke,
Guss doubted she would accept anything that wasn't proved six
times over in every school of science plus had been recorded on
film and preferably allowed itself to be seen, heard, and touched
by her personally.

And that was after she had spent five years--a year--in an alien
vessel, living with beings that some people still suspected were
figments of overactive imaginations.  What had she been like
before?

Guss could understand how she could have been an excellent agent
in the X-files, though.  Sometimes a skeptic was just what was
needed to keep them on track.  For that matter, Pender could use
the help, and everybody else would get practice strengthening
their theories that much more to please her.  Guss decided it was
a plus and kept with his private decision to support her.

Mulder was oblivious to all the concerns his team had over their
newest member.  His welcoming acceptance of Scully blinded him to
the apprehensions of the other agents, or at least he ignored the
ones he sensed.  

And then he and those of his team had other, larger matters to
see to, and the difficulties of the group had to be put aside to
attend to the greater problems.

Pender was the one approached, while exiting his car early the
next morning.  A tall figure in a trench coat stepped out of the
shadows of the parking lot and spoke to him.  "Agent Pender."

"Yes?" Putting all the melodrama of the setting aside, Pender
answered the summons without even reaching for his gun.  However,
he knew exactly where it was located against his hip and while he
wasn't an Old West gunslinger his quickdraw wasn't bad.  

Outwardly he stayed calm and noncommittal, but beneath his jacket
his arm was tensed and his fingers ready.  Pender had been in
danger before, but generally he waited for it to present itself
openly before making a move.

"I must speak with your director," the man told him.

"Why?"

"Your director /is/ Fox Mulder," the figure stated with a hint of
impatience.

Pender nodded slowly. "Then," the other man went on, "as soon as
possible tell him to meet me at the shark tank tomorrow at 11:15
PM.  He'll understand where," he added, when he saw Pender's
questioning regard.

"Maybe so," Pender said wryly, "but why would he want to go?
Wouldn't it be simpler to just tell me what to tell him?"

"Ah, but that isn't the tradition," murmured the other.

Pender knew enough of Mulder to know that tradition, or at least
Bureau tradition, wasn't exactly standard operating procedure.
But this obviously wasn't Bureau tradition--"Even if Mulder does
get information from...questionable sources," and the look he
shot the figure was too obvious to be missed, "why should he
listen or want to hear what you have to say?"

>From the depths of his dark coat the man pulled out an object and
tossed it at Pender's feet.  The agent picked it up, inspected it
curiously. "Show that to your director," the man said. "He'll
come."  And he walked back into the shadows.

Pender decided that pursuit in this instance would most likely
accomplish little to nothing.  And besides, the dramatic mystery
of the whole affair appealed to his more playful side.  If this
man was a crank, it would be a good story to bounce around the
office.  Why ruin it by catching him, forcing his identity out?

And if he was the real thing, following him might not be the best
thing for Pender's future.  He had had contact with similar types
before.

So, let the show go on.  Pender marched in the building and
upstairs to their office.  As was often the case, he was the
first agent in, though he was surprised to find Mulder out.  A
quick memo check proved that he was in the Bureau Director's
office for some reason or another.

Not one to be intimidated by rank, and confident in his own
association with Director Skinner, Pender proceeded to the
latter's office with all due haste.  The secretary let him in
without too much fuss, so the meeting couldn't be that urgent.

Skinner raised his eyebrows marginally at the agent's entrance;
Mulder's placidity was undisturbed. "Agent Pender," the Director
inquired with a hint of sarcasm, "how may we help you?"

"I hope I'm not interrupting something important," Pender began,
and was rewarded by Mulder's quick negative gesture, "but I had
an encounter that I was told to tell you about."  And he related
the entire experience as accurately as he could recall it.

Mulder listened closely, brow slightly furrowed in thought.
"What'd this man look like?" he asked.

"Tall, Caucasian, grey-haired I think--the light was dim.  Old,
perhaps in his 60's.  Sort of rough voice with maybe a little
accent, but I couldn't identify it.  Umm, good pronunciation,
maybe that's all it was."

Skinner shot Mulder a glance; the division director shrugged. "It
could be any number of people, some of them are nuts and some are
the real thing."

"One more thing," Pender said, "He ordered me to show you this,
said you'd go if you saw it."  He took out the object and placed
it on the Director's broad desk.

The moment he looked up he knew the man hadn't been a crank.
Mulder's eyes were twice their normal width and Skinner's jaw had
literally dropped.  In a toneless voice the Director croaked, "I
thought he died years ago...assassinated..."

"Or from cancer," Mulder hissed, with a bitter, biting rasp
Pender couldn't remember hearing from him ever before.  

For his own part, the agent was amazed that such violent
reactions could be produced by as simple a thing as an empty pack
of cigarettes, the brandname Morley clearly printed on the
cellophane.


End Part 5

Title: Horizons: Homecoming, pt 6/12


Mulder was to meet with the stranger.  The moment Pender produced
the cigarette package it seemed as if neither the division
director nor Director Skinner had any doubts about that.

Mulder was also explicitly clear with Pender as they waited in
the office for the other agents to arrive.

"You are not going to be my back up, Pender."

"Sir," the agent insisted, "he never said anything about coming
alone."

"He knows that /I/ know the rules of this kind of thing.  And one
of them is that I myself am the only one who attends this
meeting.  The more people there, the more dangerous it is for all
concerned.  And that's another thing, Pender.  You aren't saying
a single word about this to anyone--even the other agents."

"They'd all support you completely."

"I know," Mulder said. "Physically.  I couldn't keep them all
away, so it's too risky to let them know."

"What about Agent Scully?" Pender wanted to know.

"Scully...I especially won't tell her, and neither will you.
She's the only one I have no way of deterring.  Even Director
Skinner couldn't stop her--and he wouldn't try."

"I think it would be best if you at least followed Skinner's
suggestion of a bug and a subcutaneous tracker.  If this is a
trap--"

"It's impossible to tell."

"Mulder," Pender said. "I saw your expression.  I can see it now.
Whoever this man is, he's your *enemy*.  Lex Luther.  Moriarty.
Darth--"

"Your knowledge of contemporary literature astounds me."  The
director's sarcastic tone turned pensive. "I don't honestly have
the slightest idea whether or not this is a trap.  My instincts
aren't saying much, and to be honest," and he smiled
sardonically, "they've never been the most trustworthy feelings.

"But every one I possess is telling me to follow this through.
Something big is going down, I know that from experience.
Pender, I need you to do something for me."

"What?" demanded the agent suspiciously.

"It may be a trap, as you've said--"

"Right, so I'll follow you--"

"NO.  You stay with Scully."

"Scully?" Pender echoed.

"If it's a trap, it's just as likely for her as for me."

"They haven't made a single move toward any of the return
abductees since the first night they came back," Pender reminded
him.

"I know.  If something is done at this time it'll be solely to
get at her.  Possibly me as well."

"I think she's as capable as you at taking care of herself,"
Pender argued, silently adding, 'and probably more so.'

"Yes, but she isn't going into a situation in which a tail is
dangerous.  You've been keeping an eye on her anyway, right?"

"We all drive by her place occasionally, make sure everything's
all right," Pender admitted.

"Tomorrow night stay in her house, outside her house, I don't
care if she knows you're there or not, just make sure you're
watching her and you're ready to prevent anything funny from
going on," Mulder instructed. "You'll do this, Pender?"

"I'll do it," the agent acquiesced with a sigh of great
misgivings.

Despite this, the next night Mulder was shadowed so carefully
that he didn't even know he was being watched as his cab pulled
into the aquarium parking lot.  The place was closed but a side
door was unlocked, possibly for some work crew or security guard.
The watcher found a secret place far enough from the shark tank
that he couldn't be easily detected and close enough that not
only could he hear every word, but if something went wrong he'd
be in a position to offer assistance.

Seventeen minutes after ten, a dark auto parked at the back of
the lot, deposited a passenger, and drove away, Mulder observing
all from the shadows.  The man took the same route as the
director, making his way through the darkness to where Mulder
stood concealed.

"So it is you," hissed the director as soon as the man was close
enough to identify.

"Of course it is," scoffed the other.

"I should've known you couldn't die."

"So harsh, Agent--or rather, Director Mulder?  After so long I
thought a man like you would have left such resentment behind."

"After so long I thought a son of a bitch like you would have
slithered back to hell where you belong."

"Not the first time such a comparison has been drawn.  You're not
as original as you would like to think," said the man.  He
continued,  "No matter.  I came here for more important matters."

Mulder grew visibly tense. "Why, then?"

"Patience, Director.  Unless you'd like to try to elicit answers
from me at gunpoint again?"

"If the technique works," Mulder growled, "stick with it.
Besides, I would have thought you'd want to hurry.  How safe is
this meeting place?"

"Safe enough.  No one ever knew of this particularly rendezvous
point."

"Except you."

"I knew about your 'deep background' for as long as you did."

"And you killed him for it," Mulder accused.

"Not for that precisely.  The man you used to put the 'X' in your
window for, yes.  But not your first contact." There was an odd
emotional quality to the dry words and voice that was hard to
understand.  It was soon pushed aside, though. "Now who is
stalling, Director?"

"Say what you wanted to tell me and then we can both get out of
here."

"Watch your agents closely, Director.  They've crossed the path
of something you and Agent Scully both might find intriguing."

"What do you mean?" Mulder pressed.

Both his face and that of the man were briefly illuminated by a
flare of a match.  The light soon dwindled into an orange glow at
the end of the cigarette in the informant's mouth.  "Two days
ago," he said around it, "two of your agents were dispatched.
You should consider pursuing their case with them."

He chided Mulder, "Really, Director, I should think you would
have been alerted by the location.  So close to a place where I
believe you've...visited before.  In a search you were more
concerned with than in this matter--but since that motivation has
disappeared, perhaps you could take up another cause."

"You're saying I should check them out again?"

"That they might warrant another look is all I'm suggesting."

"You're really covering your ass on this," Mulder said.  For the
first time his tone was subdued.  "Are you going to try to
convince me this meeting isn't part of your organization's master
plan?"

"I'd never attempt to convince you of something so hard to prove,
Director," replied the other calmly.

"Why?" The threat and anger had almost completely vanished from
Mulder's voice. "What's your motivation? From certain others I
bought excuses like attacks of conscience or chances of
redemption.  But /you'll/ never convince me of anything of the
sort.

"I have an agenda.  In some minor ways it diverges from the goals
of the rest.  Perhaps recently that divergence has grown
slightly." The man removed the cigarette from his mouth and blew
a cloud of smoke around the glowing tip.  "As I have told you
before, I am doing what I believe is right."

"Right for you.  I wonder about the rest of the world," Mulder
commented caustically.

"Investigate what I've told you and find out," said the man.
"Perhaps we can meet again, elsewhere, Director Mulder.  If this
proves to be productive."

"We'll see," was the director's gruff response.

"Oh, and I must compliment you on your back-up," added the man
suddenly.  "I would have had no idea he was there--if I hadn't
employed the best shadower of my own to keep watch.  I almost
expected Director Skinner to make some unfortunate play."  And
without another word from either him or Mulder he strode away in
the opposite direction from where he came.

For several minutes there was silence, disturbed only by the
faint hum of the dimly lit aquarium tank filters.  Mulder's voice
broke the silence.  "Come out, whoever's there.  I am a federal
agent and I am armed."

"Yes, sir," Guss replied, and stepped marginally out of the
shadows, relying on movement more than visibility to reveal his
location.

Mulder squinted across the darkness.  "So Pender didn't fully
disobey."

"No, sir.  He's watching Agent Scully now.  And he would have
called if something had happened."

"But," the director went on, and Guss was glad that in the
dimness Mulder couldn't see him flinch, "he told you.  Who else?
The other agents?"

"I was the only one.  I'm his partner, sir.  He can't keep
secrets from me, that's not the way he's made.  And I could tell
he had one and I was the one who pressed him." In his own
interests he added, "He wanted me to keep watch on Scully but I
thought that he should at least do that much of what you wanted,
sir.  And I'm fairly good at surveillance detail."

"So I've observed.  I'll remember that for future work."

"Yes, sir." Guss wondered if he was setting some sort of division
record of number of "sirs" in a single conversation.  At least he
hadn't been fired and it didn't sound like he was going to be.
"Sir, you took a taxi here, can I give you a ride back?"

"Your car is here?"

"A rented one, actually.  In case you could recognize mine.  I
have it until Thursday--plenty of time to drive you home."

"I might as well save on cab fare," Mulder sighed.

On the drive back Mulder swore Guss to absolute secrecy
concerning everything he had heard. "And don't tell Pender."

"Yes, sir."

The director eyed his agent suspiciously. "I'd prefer a sworn
oath on a Bible."

"Sorry, I don't have one on me," Guss answered back, then
immediately added, "Sorry, sir.  I didn't mean to--"

Mulder smiled, a trait that Guss still was not completely
comfortable with.  The frown it morphed into was equally
unreasuring, however.  His words were easier to deal with.
"Don't worry about it, Guss.  I'm not angry with you--just with
your partner."

"I can take responsibility for my own actions.  Sir."

"Yes," Mulder argued, "but you wouldn't have acted if it wasn't
for Pender going against my direct orders and telling you about
the whole deal in the first place."

Since Guss couldn't come up with a good rejoinder for that he
stayed quiet.  Mulder went on. "Just avoid telling him what
happened.  And don't mention a word to the other agents, either."
He paused and said at last, "Especially Agent Scully."

Guss shot him a brief look before turning back to the street,
steering.  Mulder stared straight ahead, eyes watching the
pavement shoot by underneath them.  "This is something of a
personal matter, Agent.  Keep quiet about it."

What Guss wanted to say but didn't was that it hadn't sounded
like a personal matter.  It sounded like an X-file.  It involved
what Gibbons and Dubzinski were investigating and it sounded like
something the entire team should be on.  Particularly if one of
their own was concerned with it, and Agent Scully was technically
one of them.

In fact, Guss hypothesized, Agent Scully could probably
unscramble the cryptic clues the smoking stranger had given
Mulder.  Which was almost certainly why Mulder didn't want her to
hear them.

While Guss generally followed orders and took the director's
requests very seriously, he did have the final choice whether or
not to take certain actions.  And if taking certain actions was
the right thing to do, he was perfectly willing to accept the
consequences that accompanied them.

The result of this was that by next morning Pender had heard
Mulder's conversation with as much accuracy as Guss could recall.
Which meant in turn that neither he nor Guss were much surprised
when the director announced he was joining Dubzinski and Gibbons
in Pennsylvania to help them follow up some loose ends.

"Let me take a quick stop by my apartment first if we're flying
out today," his partner asked.

"No, I need you to mind the store here, Scully," Mulder
responded.  "This probably won't take two of us anyhow.  Think
you can manage everything alone for a couple of days?"

Scully's expression was far from trusting, but all she said was,
"No Mulder, I don't think I'd have any problems."

"Good.  I'll be back before you know it." And he was on h