By  Vickie Moseley
vickiemoseley1978@yahoo.com
 

Summary:  Fill in the blank for Within, just after
Doggett reveals Mulder's tombstone with the death
date of 2000.
Spoilers:  Within
Category:  V SA MT SkA MSR
Rating:  E for Everybody
Archive:  yes
Disclaimer:  since the body of work that is fan
fiction by now far exceeds the body of work that is
the original series (even including the stuff in the
final two years), I present to the court findings that
it is the fan fic authors who rightfully hold this
intellectual property.  However, since American
jurisprudence is based on economics as much as
intellectual freedom, I will refrain from infringing
on the previous and still existing copyright. (Can
you tell I've been writing Rules and Regs this
week?)
Author's notes:  Really short one hammered out
while cleaning up a longer story.  I've always hated
the stupid 'Clue' style revelation of Mulder's 'brain
affliction' and tombstone in Within.  The man had
been hospitalized no less than 4 times in Season 7
and we're supposed to believe that Scully didn't
know he had this frontal lobe thingy???  What the
heck kind of pathologist is she supposed to be??  So
I sort of walked them through a reasonable (or at
least plausible) explanation.  Also, my Scully isn't a
pod person.  She knows what she's doing.  Nuff
said.
Comments:  vickiemoseley1978@yahoo.com

Tombstones
by Vickie Moseley

Skinner walked with her to the elevators.  She
showed no sign of wanting to talk, but he had too
many questions.

"Scully," he said, obviously at a loss for words, but
needing something to pry information out of her.

"Not here.  By the Basin -- in thirty minutes," she
hissed and when she got off on the wrong floor, he
didn't try to stop her.

It was a long wait, and he had a meeting that he was
forced to cancel, but finally he found himself
walking across the sun-drenched sidewalk toward a
bench near the Jefferson Memorial.  The cherry
blossoms were mere memories now, the full green
leaves of the trees danced in the wind.  He sat down
beside her and waited to speak until a young couple
pushing a stroller were out of earshot.

"How much of that did you know?" he asked,
having had time now to form his jumbled thoughts
into coherent questions.  He had been shocked by
all of it, Mulder's terminal illness, the clandestine
trips to North Carolina, the gravestone.  It was all
too much and too much like Mulder.  Maybe
walking into that beam of light had been a mercy
killing?

"We found out about the illness shortly after he
returned to work last year, after the 'surgery'."  She
spat out the last word as if it were a curse.
"Apparently it only slowed the progression, stopped
the dissonance that caused him so much trouble.
But whatever had caused it never really went
away."

"Scully -- "

"It started with headaches.  I thought it was his
contacts, he's always forgetting to get his eyes
checked.  When I finally got him to an
ophthalmologist, the doctor immediately referred
him to a neurologist.  We went to four different
neurologists in a period of about 6 weeks.  All said
the same thing."

"Why didn't you tell . . . "  Skinner's voice trailed
off, but from the betrayal in his eyes, he hoped it
was understood.  Why didn't they tell him, of all
people?

She looked him straight in the eye and with a grim
expression.  "We didn't know who we could trust --
who hadn't been compromised."

Her words would have had no less impact if they'd
been a sledgehammer to his gut.  She reached out
and did something so uncharacteristically 'Scully-
like' that he forgot for a moment about his own
pain.  She put her hand on top of his and squeezed.

"We knew that . . . forces . . . were at work.  We
were trying other options."

"The trips to North Carolina?"

"My idea.  When Mulder was at Ashford Medical
Center being treated for the tobacco beetles his
doctor suggested I call one of his friends from med
school.  The man is a specialist in neurology who
works out of the University of North Carolina.  He's
done some tremendous work with lasers.  We'd
hoped . . ."

"But you didn't know about the stone, Scully.  I
could see that in your eyes."

"No.  He hadn't told me about that.  But one time,
something my mother said . . . "  Her voice caught
and she looked away, gathering composure and
resolve to continue.   "Apparently, when I was gone
so long ago, when everyone thought I was dead --
my mother asked Mulder to help her pick out my
tombstone.  She said she'd never seen anyone look
so desolate.  She regretted inviting him to come to
the masonry; it seemed to crush his spirit.  She
thought afterwards that he looked like he'd lost faith
in everything that day.  I was found shortly
afterwards, so the stone went unused but that day,
my mother feared for his life."

"She thought he'd -- "

"Commit suicide, yes," Scully finished Skinner's
thought.  "I can only guess that he wanted to save
me from that experience, picking out his stone."

She leaned her head back and caught a few rays of
the sun.  "We aren't going to find him digging up all
their red herrings, sir," she said calmly, though he
was certain calm was the last thing she felt.  "For all
I know, that tombstone was a plant.  Someone is
trying to pass themselves off as Mulder, using his
credit card, showing up at my apartment.  We know
there are people out there -- "

"What about Agent Doggett?  Who's side is he on?"
It was a question he knew was on her mind as well.
One of them had to give voice to it.

"Agent Doggett is a fool," she growled, "but I don't
think he's in league with them."  She sat up and
leaned forward.  "I have no doubt that Kersh
handpicked him precisely because he never colored
outside the lines in kindergarten."

"He's a good investigator," Skinner said, but it was
a lame attempt at best.  "I've looked over his
record."

"So have I and I have no doubt that he can follow
clues, sir.  But can he tell when he's being fed false
ones?  That's the far more difficult task we face.  I
know that Mulder is alive; I can feel it in my very
bones.  But I also know that looking at his credit
slips and finding tombstones he may or may not
have bought are not going to find him.  There are
bread crumbs out there, but we have to know that a
lot of them have been placed as detours."

"So where do we go from here, Scully?  And what
are you going to do about Doggett?  If you're right
and he follows the wrong clues, he could very well
impede our own efforts."

"Which is exactly what they want him to do, sir,"
she said, taking a deep breath.  "For the time being,
I think we should keep a close eye on Agent
Doggett."

"Is that a good idea?" Skinner asked.

Scully smiled sadly.  "A close friend of Mulder's
once told him 'keep you friends close, but your
enemies closer'.  Until we know what side he's
really on, I plan on keeping John Doggett right
where I can see him, but far enough away that he
doesn't know what I'm doing."

"This is a dangerous game, Scully."

She looked out onto the water, where the sunlight
sparkled on the ripples created by the breeze.  "I
figured that out a long time ago, sir."

the end