From: mgreten Date: Sat, 30 Sep 2000 12:15:55 -0700 Subject: Adversarial Dreams 1/3 by Mary Greten Source: xff Adversarial Dreams 1/3 by Mary Greten Disclaimer: NO infringement on ANYONE's copyrights is intended. Loc's appreciated and answered: mgreten@xtalwind.net Spoilers: Yes. Archive: I'll send to Gossamer. All others please inform me so I may send you its url or the latest revision. S: PG: MythArc: X? Summary: Scully settles a score for her father et al. "Why, Scully?" Episodes' dialogue: Chris Carter and 1013 writers IN OTHER CONTEXT: Adversarial Dreams ISMS ARRANGED by Mary Greten ORIGINAL MATERIAL by Mary Greten Spring 2000 Washington, D.C. Justice Building Assistant Director Skinner's office. "This just can't be." Scully said suddenly. "What are you looking at?" Frokhike asked. "Medical records-- Billy Miles and other known abductees in Bellefleur, Oregon. They all experienced anomalous brain activity." "Electro-encephalitic trauma?" Byers suggested. "Which is exactly what Mulder experienced earlier this year." "I don't understand." stated a perplexed Langly. Scully continued. "There was something out there in that field. It knocked me back. Because it didn't want me. Mulder thinks that it's me that's in danger of being taken." "When it's Mulder who's in danger." Frohike picked up on the implications quickly. He also noticed Scully looked pale and disoriented. "Scully? Scully! Whoa!" Scully bent at her knees. "Scully! Whoa!" The gunmen prevented her from hitting the floor. "Oh, gee." As with anything Scully and the Gunmen, Frohike took the lead. "Byers, Call 911. Langly get your laptop and ready Scully's medical files to be transferred to Washington General. Tell them she'll be there ASAP". ~~~ Spring 2000 WASHINGTON, DC #2645 THE WATERGATE APARTMENTS His nurse immediately called the EMT's. She said only that she had left the apartment for a breath of fresh air. She returned in time catch a glance of the back of a man pushing her charge into the stairwell. It was as if the old man was made by Tupperware. The EMTs surprisingly found no broken bones. Deep abrasions aplenty which the EMTs treated accordingly but no bones broken. They assisted his nurse replacing his IV's. Still, those abrasions had to hurt as evidenced by the old man's groans as he moved. The EMTs checked. No concussion either that they could discern. They wanted to take him to Washington General. The old man refused that and to file a police report. His nurse called his doctor who permitted the extra amount of morphine suggested by the EMTs. The old man, whose body was failing him from the inside out, now had only his mind to carry him away and no control where his morphine driven mind was taking him. Even then, he wouldn't leave without an adieu puff from his Morley via his trachea. ~~~ A Quintessential Men's Club New York City mid Nineteen sixties. ~Gentlemen of the Club~ He never knew their names. From his gleanings, they've been an organization of loose alliances since the Forties. These men, who gave him his assignments, cloaked themselves in the anonymity of their function or their zip code or nationality or their most outstanding physical characteristic. Thus, they were The Washington Man, The Thin Italian Guy, The British Chap, Deutch, Dutch, Dane, Netherman, the Finnish Fellow. The amazing part was he never heard one address the other. They just looked in the general direction of the second conversant. He guessed that almost a quarter of a century together, as long as he's been alive, endowed the group with that capability. A quarter of a century...as long as he's been alive. He wondered fleetingly if his father could have been the Russian Man were he not shot as a traitorious spy. "Do you understand your Orders as I've explained them to you so far?" the Washington Man asked from the leather chair facing him. "Yes." replied the young man, "I am to search out a Marine. One Jack Colquitt. Recently assigned to the U.S.S. Gatherer and is to report to it after his seventy-two hour leave this weekend. I am to kill this man with a stiletto-like implement which someone who will introduce himself as "The One" will show me how to use. I will take only the man's jacket and pockets' contents. Dump the body, then return here for further instructions." "Good. We want you to know that because of your previous efforts in November for our cause, you are definitely to become a member of this group. This mission will determine your status in the group." "The Beard.", prompted the British Chap. His raggard beard disgusted the always better pressed and dressed English Gentleman. "Ah, not to worry. He can shed the beard after this part of the mission is over." The Washington Man returned his attention to the young man in uniform. "Any questions regarding this first part of the mission?" "Yes, you have not shown me a picture of this man I am to kill. How am I to know him?" "I assure you. You will have no problem and everything you need to know will be revealed to you then." ~~~~ Newport News, Va. A few days later. ~For the Good of the Many~ Once he came to terms with the shock that Jack Colquitt was almost his mirror image, it was an easy kill. Too many women and too much wine slowed the Marine's reaction to the snap of the of the silver 'stiletto'. As the Marine lay dying he 'rolled' the marine of his Uniform Jacket and pocket contents. The jacket was necessary because any picture could be accoutremently outdated. Only one thing was wrong. Not really problem, he could learn how. Still a military man, albeit on covert assignment, he snapped to attention and threw the now dead Jack Colquitt a salute. "For your Country. Too bad no one will ever know. Semper Fi." Then, he weighted down the body and slipped it off a pier into the murky oil ubiquitous waters. ~~~~~ Date: 196(classified) Ship: USS Gatherer Mission: (Classified) ~A Star to steer her by.~ Warrant Officer Carlton Chubs squeezed his way through the U.S.S. Gatherer's narrow passage ways and stairways to the outside decks. The lunarless night clung to the frigate like a sexy black negligee on his favorite raven hair movie star. Unlike that blond doodle brain that sang a breathless Happy Birthday to President Kennedy (God have mercy on his soul), his favorite's buxom 36-24-34 exuded a slick intelligence and was a good analogy for the Gatherer, Chubs thought- a grand figure for her missions of trawling for information and disseminating it down the endless alphabet that is the U.S Government. Naval Intelligence(NI), Military Intelligence(MI), Department of Defence(DoD), Central Intelligence Agency(CIA), National Security Administration(NSA), Secret Service(SS), Coast Guard(USCG), Customs, USC, National Immigration Service(NIS), Federal Bureau of Investigation(FBI) and, for all he knew, the Internal Revenue Service(IRS) slobbered like blood hounds over any raw data the Gatherer garnered in its own wake. The CIA, in particular, had become increasingly active in secretive operations to overthrow governments deemed dangerous to the United States. Lately, on nights such as this, the darkness was used to put a foot with at least impolite intent upon foreign soil. CIA/DoD agents "helio-dropped" aboard with Sealed Operational Orders Captain's Eyes and Need to Know Only. So, Carlton Chubs still walked his self-imposed 'beat' around his ship. A thirty year man, he was officially retired. The lure of a last 'one for the Gipper' mission was one he had not had the option to refuse by Special Orders. The captain ordered the ship to sail silent and dark; still there was little danger of his falling overboard. Chubs never failed to wear his flotation jacket, carried a portable horn and stayed close to the hull. If the weather was intemperate, he would be too busy at his post to be taking a stroll. It was his daily stroll around all upper decks that kept Chubs' heart in good working order in spite of the weight the years had packed on him. Much liked, cheerful, he was a favorite of enlisted men and officers alike and no one begrudged him right of way in the passage ways. On normal evenings, greetings, jokes and smiles of ship mates followed him to his berth below and a restful sleep. But not tonight. ~~~ A veteran of thirty years exists because of an innate sense of what rules were steel strong and can never be bent and which were the marsh reeds that must sway in the breeze for a crew to survive monotonous missions that encompassed the range of ennui "from tedium to boredom and back" as Mister Roberts, a buddy lost in World War Two, so adequately described it... Chubs glimpsed a flicker of red on the deck about ten yards in front of him. With the reaction time of a man half his age, Chubs pressed the button on his security light alert. Like the Captain, Chubs needed reading glasses, but his distance vision needed no assistance. Something was out there. Chubs could smell it...wait a second. Hold on. He was not thinking figuratively...he 'could' smell it. He sniffed the air. A gossamer filament wafted by. Landlubbers smell the sea salt in the air three miles away. Older Salts than Chubs used to say on a clear day they could smell the land from five miles. Once, it was the clean aroma of flora, now it's the foul nidor of flotsam. Yes, he smelled it and it was neither. No question. He knew the answer. Call out the Marines. He turned at the polite tap on his shoulder. It was Warrant Officer Tatter O'Reilly. The Marine contingent, normally in charge of security, were busy doing extra Brig and Bridge duty, having gauged the crew's reaction to the much delayed shore leave and the civilian observers aboard to blame it on. Chubs, himself, had given Tatter O'Reilly his nickname. Tatter had been a Chief Engineer and as such was never without some sailor's tattered old skivy shirt hanging from his pocket or rubbing it between his hands to remove engine grease. Tatter gratefully accepted all well used donations. Tonight, the Warrant Officers were helping the over burdened Marines by doing Patrols which happened to coincide with Chubs' stroll. Thus they carried an alert switch box. Tatter already informed the Marines on the bridge. Chubs mimed two fingers to his mouth and ten yards ahead. Tatter nodded his comprehension and took point. ~~~ When he received it in absentia, the Captain took Chubs at his word. "Full Stop." "Full Stop, sir." "Navigator, how far from territorial waters are we?" The navigator scanned his charts and double checked his figures. "Two Inches, sir." "Are you being funny, Mister?" Lieutenant Commander William Scully demanded. "Absolutely, I am not being funny, sir." The navigator spun the charts for the officers to see the closely measured proximity for themselves. "Helm, Full astern, three ship lengths. Then, come about one hundred and eighty degrees. Then, take us away from here best speed.", the Captain ordered. "Aye." answered the helmsman. The Captain glared at his CIA/DoD 'guests'. He growled, "Is it one of you?" After a short conference with his colleagues the lead observer replied, "To our knowledge we are all here." "Captain", Commander Scully offered, "It could be that they are dupes being used to put a stowaway in place." "Why? Their mission is to observe our ability to penetrate territorial waters undetected, so why would he be attempting to sabotage it?"" "Because that's not what their 'real' mission is, Captain." "Captain, two ships approaching. From starboard and port," reported the radar man. "What kind of ships. Best guess." "Launches. Probably armed." "Can you extrapolate their point of origin?". "A moment, sir". The Captain waited exuding an air of patient impatience. "Inside territorial waters, sir." The Captain surveyed his dim bridge illuminated only by the multi-colored instrument lights. "I hate being left in the dark.", he complained. ~~~ The smoker was a lean, arrogant twerp dressed in olive green fatigues and puffing on a cigarette, experimenting with finger positions and smoke blowing techniques. Although he fought mean and squirmy, this one, Tatter and Chubs took him down with a minimum of scrappiness. The Marines found the Warrant Officers literally sitting on their target while holding the lit cigarette, pack and lighter for the Marines' admiration. The smoker had broken the no smoking order implied in sailing dark and compromised the ship's position. After the two Warrant Officers were pulled off their prisoner, the Marines dragged Corporal Jack Colquitt to the Bridge. Chubs and Tatter followed with evidence in hand. ~~~ When the retinue reached the bridge, Major Vincente Sporelli was a not happy bivouac-er to find out that the security breach was one of his Marines. "Permission to bring the prisoner to the brig for questioning," the Major seethed. "Denied, Major. Just print him. He may not be who we think he is.", the Captain responded. "There is no time. We have a situation to defuse World War Three. I want this man taken to sick bay. I want the Doctor to perform every test including proctological and I want x-rays, then I want him back up here on the double. I want to know why this man is here and growing a stubble that in three days will rival Che Rivera. We will have to deduce the answers. I have no patience with pathological patriots." The Captain waved his hand in abrupt dismissal. "A moment please, Captain", Commander Scully requested. "Why, Commander?" "I suggest that besides searching for an exploding cigar up his ass, we check his clothing particularly carefully. But, do not return his shoes or his hat. Get others from supply. In fact, do no experiments aboard ship. Bag the shoes and cap and any items found and put them in your safe." "What do you suspect?" "In the cap?" "In anything, Commander." "I think the front band of the cap is laced with curare or some other poison and some mild abrasive to penetrate the skin of the forehead. Once the protective tape is removed, of course, Captain." "Of course. Off the record, are you bucking for Naval Intelligence, Commander?" "Off the record, are you implying I haven't got any, Captain?" "For the record, not at all. A former Captain's recommendation goes a long way toward a command replacement upon his retirement, Commander. I am sure you've got the right stuff." "Now, may I have him, Captain?" the waiting Major bristled through his teeth. "Helm, All Stop. Sound Battle Stations. Always negotiate with strength and a smile. Commander, make arrangements to have him transferred to whomever it is that wants him. Take him away, Major." The prisoner knew that if he got out of this alive his place in the Organization would be middle management at best, a constant struggle to eke out an existence between warring factions. "You can't intimidate me. I've watched a president die and I promise officers all: none of you will live to enjoy a long retirement," he shouted while being roughly dragged to sick bay. "Big deal," rejoined Tatter, "Thanks to 'film at eleven', everyone saw a President die." The prisoner was undaunted. "In the operating room? Semper Fi. Gentlemen." he sneered. ~~~~~ USS Gatherer. A year Later ~the heart of the matter~ "Commander Scully, May I speak with you?" "Of course, Tatter. Come into my quarters. Sit. What can I do for you? Have some coffee with me." "It's about Chubs, sir." The commander nodded. "How is the old Landlubber?" "He's dead, sir." The Commander slowly placed a cup in front of Tatter then reached up into a secret place where he stored a special bottle. "When?" He poured two fingers into the cups. "Yesterday." "Of what?" "Heart Attack." "Chubs?" "That's it, sir. Chubs took that threat - you know the one - to heart, begging your pardon, and kept fit. He had no heart problems and he put it in his will to do an autopsy on him just in case." "What did they find?" "The heart attack was induced by an overdose of digitalis or some variant." "Foxglove. A flower. Is where digitalis comes from. No telling how it was introduced into his system." "Yes, sir. I know. I come up here to tell you when the time comes for you to retire, you and your family take care, hear. "Tatter, that's a long time away. Let us for now,". The commander held up his cup. "To an absent and caring friend." Tatter reciprocated as propriety demanded, but he wasn't satisfied the commander was taking him seriously enough. "Commander Scully. Please, you know how good a judge of character Chubs was?" "Yes, of course, I remember." "Well, Chubs said that if anything should happen to him I should remind you that 'his' type - that prisoner - grudges are the only thing they take to heart." Tatter took the last swig from his cup. " Thank you for the drink and the toast, Commander Scully. I know Chubs would appreciate it more if you and the Captain would heed his words. When you retire, watch your backs and your families real closely." ~~~ End 1/3 Adversarial Dreams 2/3 by Mary Greten Spring 2000 Washington General Hospital Hours after Scully was brought in, Doctor Warren Hendricks, Emergency Room Director, worked his way through lines of nurses, technicians and other doctors who were momentarily free of responsibilities. "Surely you people can find some things better to do on your breaks then to ogle the occupants of the waiting room." He chided. "I need to see the accompaniments of Special Agent Dana Scully." He halted mid-stride. "Oh, My. Who are those...er" "The Odd Triple." quipped the resident jokester. "How do they pace head down every which way and avoid bumping into people?" The Doctor wondered. "They are accompaniments of Special Agent Dana Scully." remarked the jokester as if it explained the creation of the universe. "Well, I've handled worse. Let me through ... Is there a Mister Frohike, here, please?". He shouted above the din of crying children, loud talking or snoring, quiet whispering, and General Hospital Soap Opera on a raised TV that no one was paying attention to. Why didn't they turn on closed captioning, he groused to himself. Three bodies from different directions accosted him at once. The shortest and eldest body spoke first. "I'm Mister Frohike. These gentlemen are my associates. Where is Agent Scully?, Doctor?" In spite of his stature as director, the doctor smiled at the strange man's protective and knowledgable demeanor. "You are correct, Mister Frohike, to have expected Agent Scully to be at my side ready to go home. We've run all the tests that her symptoms indicate, and we've found nothing normally untoward causing the symptoms. However, because of her complex medical history, Agent Scully wanted to have some special tests done. She'll stay at least overnight." Again, a confused Langly needed a translation. "What'd he say?". "She's fine." answered Byers impatiently. "She will be in room..." Doctor Hendricks consulted his charts. "Room 222 in an hour. She is anxious to see you then." He hesitated a moment then shook his head in amazement. "You know, I've never met Agent Scully before. As a woman who had just given birth was being brought into the ER, Agent Scully told me that she delivered a baby for the first time in a leaky apartment house with no electricity while being held hostage at gun point by a crazed survivalist in a blinding hurricane in Florida." Langley and Frohike nodded. "And just before that she did a 'trach' on a sheriff's deputy with his own pocket tools." Frohike bragged with a puffed chest. Byers was skeptical. From too many visits here and his hall wanderings in the past, he knew the hospital floor plans fairly well. "Doctor, room 222, that is in the Obstetrics ward, isn't it?" "Quite so, Gentlemen. Oh! Yes. She insisted I tell you she trusts you to say nothing to anyone in the interim, especially not her mother." The doctor left them to ponder the possibilities. "Double Duh!" concluded Langly. ~~~ The fellows included detours to the cafeteria and men's room to while away the hour on their way to room 222 where Scully sat pensively in the bed in the private room. "Hey, Scully, like the digs." Langly teased. The gunmen positioned themselves around the three sides at the foot of the bed. Scully didn't move. "We've been trying to contact Mulder, but he and Skinner are either keeping a low profile or they're out of range." Byers informed her valiantly attempting not to let his opinion of how far out of range he thought they might be show in his voice. Scully kept her head bowed. The three men shifted in place waiting for the tears. Frohike had his hand on a handkerchief in his pocket although it was a toss up who would need it first. "Fellows," Scully sighed deeply avoiding their eyes, "I know you've deduced the obvious and anything I may say now would be a double entendre, but we all know that if there is anything on this planet or any other, for that matter, that Mulder could stick his fingers into, he would." As she slowly inched her head up the men could see a smirk play about her mouth. Since Scully always commanded center stage around them, they didn't miss the telegraphic eye wink that upped the intimacy between them. Not as intimate as Mulder. Of course they took it. Her playfulness faded. "I don't have good hopes for them; I know Mulder's curiosity too well. I am also well aware the of the amount time that has passed. If something's happened to them, we'll just have to go after them." She rubbed her abdomen. "I need you to keep this to yourselves. I don't want to reveal anything too soon to my mother whom I don't need to worry more about me right now. "I need to think. Help me. We all know the bell ringers: "Mulder believed I was barren because of all the radioactivity I had been exposed to. My gynaecologist agreed and started me on dietary Estrogen Replacement Therapy. "I am thirty-five and this is my first pregnancy which makes it a high risk. "I've become sexually active with Mulder so the most probable and desired scenario is that I somehow defied the odds and had at least one ovum left. "We know it's not so simple. I recently spent a few days, one night of which I can't account for, with the Cigarette Smoking Man who was probably responsible for my infertility. Did he replace the chip in my neck with another; turning me on, so to speak? Have I been made a surrogate? Is it his? Alien? A Hybrid like Emily? Is it Mulder's? Who is the biological mother? "Once I have it, will 'they' want it because Mulder and I are alien vaccine carriers or because it may have inherited Mulder's anomalous brain activity or just because they can? "In any case, how do I keep my baby safe so it can't be used as a pawn?" "We keep the baby safe, Scully," the men countered simultaneously. "Yes, thank you. We keep the baby safe? Have I missed anything?" "I don't think so," Byers replied after a few seconds thought. Scully could not suppress a yawn. "Fellows, I am tired and I have some more tests in a short while except for the amniocentesis for which the fetus is not yet viable yet, so they won't be able to do the that test until a later time. I need answers. "Come cold hell, high water or little gray aliens, if Mulder goes missing, I...We.. are going to find him. I am not going to raise our child alone." Frohike squeezed her hand. "No, you're not. You sleep now. We'll keep trying to contact them. And tell you as soon as we know anything. And we'll debug and re-alarm your appartment too," soothed Frohike as the men soft- footed out the door. Scully was asleep before the door closed behind them. ~~~ ~A dream is an answer to ... what was the question again?~ Commuting to Medical School from home left first year Med. Student Dana Scully dragging and her grades slagging. She needed badly to find lodging and a way to pay for them. She searched the bulletin boards for open beds in dorms. She found one available in the student nurses quarters. Scully had always maintained that Health Care is a team effort, therefore she never looked down upon nurses or technicians or housekeeping support for that matter. Everyone was a necessity and had the right to be treated graciously. The student nurses accepted her and were especially appreciative when they needed medical terms clarified. So, now Scully needed a job. Again she consulted the boards. She found nothing. Instead, she left a notice of her qualifications and availability. Surprisingly, she was contacted almost immediately by the University placement service. "Miss Scully," said the counselor, "Perhaps among your travels in our halls these past years, you remember coming across an elderly gentleman, slacks, button down shirt, no tie, loafers, sports coat." "Yes, sir." Scully admitted. "I've indeed seen him often. He always appears lost and a bit bewildered. The consummate absent minded professor, I think. Once, I asked if I could assist him. He became alert and his eyes twinkled, 'Perhaps someday, young lady. Yes, I'm almost sure of it'. He asked my name. I told him and he went on his way." "You're not pulling my leg, are you, Miss Scully?". The counselor seemed annoyed. "No, sir. Why would I?" "Miss Scully, that man is Dr. Quincy, Professor Emeritus, Forensic Medicine and Pathology. At the moment, he is a hands on member of the Board of Trustees at the Maryland State Medical Examiners office. He regularly patrols these corridors looking for..." "Cadavers?" "Really, Miss Scully!" "I'm sorry." Chagrined, Scully apologised. "It slipped past my good sense." "Potential M.E.'s." "ME?" Scully exclaimed. "You do seem to be physically an unlikely choice given your size, still he was very insistent that he speak with you. He has already reviewed your records and was impressed by your ..er.. 'curiosity and courtesy'. "I must impress upon you the honor of working with Dr. Quincy. There isn't a contact he doesn't have or a medical fact he doesn't know. Should you decide to work with him and should you choose Forensic Medicine as a residency, all time spent with Dr. Quincy will be counted toward it." "But, Sir, I need to earn enough for room and board." Scully remembered to tell him. "You will be compensated at Government wages, Miss Scully. Please, keep this appointment. Don't let us down. As I should have said, the University would be honored." ~~~ Two Years Later "Dana, You received a letter with the Flying Eagle." Margaret Scully informed her daughter at Sunday dinner. "It's on the table by the front door." "I am I being audited? That's all a third year Med Student needs." Scully gagged. "No, Dear. It's from the FBI. Do you have a friend in the FBI, Dana?" Mrs. Scully asked sweetly. "Mom, I've never even been to the building - new or old. Sometimes they send forms to friends and relatives of people they are doing background checks on. I wonder whom I know that run afoul of the Federal Bureau of Investigations?" "Well, don't let it spoil dessert. If it were anything really important like your sister has been arrested for growing marijuana, I'm sure we would have heard already." "MOM! Melissa has danced to a different drummer since I can recall but she worked her way through college..." "Doing 'odd' jobs and taking even 'odder' courses." "...and earned a degree in Comparative Philosophy including Saints Thomas and Augustine and a degree in Alternative Lifestyles." "So, she has to live every one of them?" "Mom, I know it hurts that she left. Melissa is different, but not difficult unless pushed past a her patience level. You and Daddy pushed too hard for her to marry a nice Irish Catholic and relive your lives." "Yes, but..." "Leave us girls alone. The boys are giving you grandchildren." Scully said softly. "Somebody has to break molds or a family stagnates. Besides, she writes us and calls on special occasions. She's never forgotten a one." "Only because you got her into the habit, remember?" ~~~ Scully remembered the phone call. "Dana, sorry to take you away from your doings. Julia bought our car today and we're all leaving early day after tomorrow." "Short notice, Missy. But, I'm owed time off. I'll be there. An all nighter with Mom right? Just the three of us. Did you tell her yet?" "No, maybe with you there, she won't take it so hard. She knows you're within shouting distance with no plans to wander. See you then. I'll bring the wine and cheese. We will have, as Mom would say, 'a blast'." ~~ Mrs. Scully and Melissa were waiting outside at the appointed time. "Here they are, Mom. Give me a 'Bug hug.'" "It's a good thing you and your sister got me looped or I'd be bawling by now. Ok, Missy, what kind of Bug?" "You choose, Mom" "A centipede. C'here." They clung seemingly forever. Finally, they parted. "Where's your sister? She should be in on this. We need more arms. Hey, Starbuck, hurry up. Missy's leaving now," Mrs Scully called to her younger daughter. "I'm coming. I coming." Scully burst through the door carrying a large bulky box. "I know we agreed I shouldn't get you anything. But, I needed to, Missy. Here." "A BIIG bug hug. Dana." slurred Mrs. Scully. "What are you doing? Missy? You sure you have the time to open that now?" asked Scully while holding on to her Mother. "If you think I'm going without knowing what's in here, you're looney, Sis." "First, what is it?" Melissa said tearing off the wrapping. "It's a version of a lap desk. It was invented by Thomas Jefferson. They have lockable compartments for supplies. This one is in the form of a brief case with a raised false bottom." "You're not doing without anything for this are you, Sis?" "You know that with work and studying I don't have time to do anything to do without." "Don't just stand there. Open it!" commanded Mrs. Scully. "I don't think that's necessary, Mom," reddened Scully. "Yeah, open it!" yelled a station wagon of companions. Melissa took out each package one by one. "Ok, Ok. Let's see, 200 pre-addressed stamped envelopes, 200 postcards, writing pads, and packages of Bic pens, Tampons and Trojans... Uh, oh, Trojans?" Missy laughed. "From little Miss Kate Tholic?? Who would have 'thunk' it?" Scully's blush deepened. "Dana!" Mrs. Scully scolded. "I've seen too many things already, Mom." "No excuses now, big sister. Write often." Scully smiled widely. "Look, little sister, I'll let you in on a little secret only you don't know. Whenever you need something just smile. There'll be twenty people wanting to light your fire. I guarantee." "Let's go already, we want to miss the traffic.", shouted Julia. "Gotta go now. Love you, both. Bye. Geeze, look at the little room they left me." "How much do you need? For pete's sake," rejoined Julia. "Bye," yelled Melissa over the car's engine, "Oh, Mom, tell Daddy I'm sorry I can't fit his mold. I'll be back when he retires. Take care, hear." ~~~ "Dana, honey, how is the dessert?" Scully snapped to present. "It's called a Cassetta Cake. Mrs. Corelli gave me the recipe. Kind of a Silky pound cake. Made with lots of milk and egg whites. Not too sweet." "It is good, Mom. Give Mrs. Corelli my regards." "You know, her son the chiropractor is still single.." "Mom," Scully warned lighty. "Don't start." "Just teasing, dear. Now, here is the Flying Eagle envelope, let's see who is on the Most Wanted List today." Scully opened the envelope and read: "Dear Ms. Scully, "Several of our consultants have recommended you as a prime candidate for employment at the Bureau. "I will be at your University's Career Days. See the brochure for further information regarding places and times. "Please allow me the pleasure of meeting you and to explain the opportunities we offer regarding our new Forensic Laboratory to be built at Quantico. In other words, we'll be ready when you are. "Best Wishes, "Special Agent Patricia Watkins "Recruitment Division" Scully looked up at her mother's expectant face. "It seems, I am." "Will you go?" "I have no choice. I am sure Dr. Quincy is one of their 'consultants' and every one of these dates, times, and places are within my schedule's allowable travel time. Also, no doubt they have a picture of me." "So?" "I'm waylayable. 'I beg your pardon. Aren't you Dana Scully? yada yada.'" "Good grief, Dana. You already think like them." "I might as well go the first day and not have Dr. Quincy nagging me." ~~~ Scully noticed him coming out the auditorium door while she climbed the steps below. As with all addicts, once the nicotine urge hits, soon is never soon enough. He already had a cigarette in his mouth, and the lighter was lit be before a second later. Scully smoked infrequently so she was still amazed how smokers knew how far to step away from the door before they stopped to light the cigarette and inhale the first thirst quenching puff. Since for the most of her observation, she was too distant or the man's face was covered by his hand, she got only the most fleeting glimpse of his face when he opened the door for her and said 'You're welcome' to her 'thank you'. Then, just as rapidly, he seeped from surface memory to the deep recesses of her subconscious. Into the fray she went to see just what the FBI could offer to entice her from a medical practice, a Diagnostician perhaps. She rather liked finding the elusive answers that evaded everyday medical practitioners. ~~~ "Agent Scully, wake up." A nurse lightly touched Scully's arm. "We certainly won't need to give you any sedatives tonight, will we? "Mmm. What time is it?" Scully queried sleepily. The nurse pondered if she should note on the charts that Scully asked. "What time is it? Time to do another test now." ~~~ Spring 2000 Washington General Hospital Next day Assistant Director Skinner found his way to Scully's room. If he noticed she was in Obstetrics at all, he would have thought it was because no other private rooms were available. The FBI can't have agents revealing inter-planetary aliens in their sleep now can they? She wore a blue hospital gown and seemed to be expecting him. "Agent Scully." "Hi." "Hi. How you feeling?" "I'm feeling fine. They're just running some tests on me." "Well... um..." Neither could force the words from their aching throats. "I already heard." Scully began. "I lost him. I don't know what else I can say. I lost him. I'll be asked... what I saw. And what I saw, I can't deny. I won't." Tears streamed down Scully's face. "We will find him. I have to." Skinner nodded and started to leave the room. However, Scully had more to say. "Sir, um... there's something else I need to tell you. Something that I need for you to keep to yourself. Skinner, although clearly unprepared for more, stood still, waiting for her next words. Scully couldn't decide whether to smile or cry. She did both. "I'm having a hard time explaining it. Or believing it. but, um..." She paused and formed a small smile of joy found amid plenty of pain. "I'm pregnant." Skinner was speechless. Scully tried a larger smile. Her tears reduced it to a tiny laugh and a sob. Skinner finally had enough and found his voice. "Thank God for Karen Kosseff. I have to talk to her and so do you, Scully. Don't worry. You know how like a sphinx she is. I think these are reasons the Bureau never thought of when they put her in place. I'll send her over. Skinner's admission bowled Scully over the edge to tears. She never thought the rock before her would ever crack. She sincerely wished his ex-wife Sharon were here for him now. end part 2/3 ~~~~~ Adversarial Dreams 3/3 by Mary Greten Spring 2000 WASHINGTON, DC #2645 THE WATERGATE APARTMENTS A dying man still dreams... 1988 U.S.S. Gatherer II ~~~A matter of the heart~~ Captain William B. Scully's last mission ended in a whisper. The last to leave his ship, alone on the wooden wharf, he turned and saluted the de-flagged hulk before him. It wasn't the first time that even he did not know what the old Gatherer II carried. That 'they' ordered him to slip her in her berth under the cloak of a new moon was the kicker. The men were compensated for the lack of their deserved proper homecoming pomp by a generous allowance and a party for their loved ones tonight at sixteen hundred hours in the officers club. The enlisted men were included both to say goodbye to their ship and their retiring Captain. Captain Scully oversaw the decomissioning of the Gatherer I and then the construction and commissioning of the U. S. S. Gatherer II. He was denied the privilege of decommissioning the ship that had been under his command for fifteen years. She would be dismantled by the alphabet agencies she served so well. They were pulling up now. These men of letters and secrecy. He stood by the gang plank and felt them march past him onto his old ship like cockroaches to a dung heap. They gave him chills. A man stopped at his side and stamped out the cigarette he was holding, lit end toward his palm. "Time for you go home, Captain. Melissa is well and enjoying her life as a promulgator of different lifestyles. Your boys are being good little sailors. I'll leave you, Margaret and them alone if you give me your Starbuck." "What! Who the hell are you?" "Have you forgotten Chubs and Tatter? I own you. I foresee a need for Dana at the FBI. Don't fight me or your heart's natural deterioration, which is why you are retiring now, will worsen more quickly. Your wife will be a widow before her time." "Does Dana know about you? What if she decides on her own not to join the FBI?" "If what I project does not occur, I will leave her be." "I don't believe you." "I always try to tell the truth ... as it appears at that moment." ~~ Captain Scully let himself in through the front door. As if he just left yesterday, he picked up the mail that his wife tossed in a pile until she had time to read them. Most were junk anyway. It was the middle of the month so the bills were not yet due. He did find an envelope that further inflamed the pain in his chest. In a fit of paranoia induced by innuendo and second hand smoke, he put on his formal white gloves and opened it. "Dear Dana, "It was a pleasure to meet you the other day. I am sorry I failed to convince you to join the Bureau. I want only to remind you that your answer need not be absolute. "We want you to finish Medical School. When it comes time for you to choose your residency, we will contact you again just in case you change your mind. "Life has a habit of taking strange turns down the road and often times it is best to travel an alternate route. "If you prefer I not contact you again, please sign the back of this letter where indicated and return it in the enclosed envelope. "Regards, "Special Agent Patricia Watkins "Recruitment Division" Captain Scully hesitated not a nano-second. He found the pen by the phone, mimicked his daughter's signature, put the letter in the enclosed envelope, about faced and forced marched it to the mail box. His mind's eye blinked away the brief impression of graphologists scrutinizing the signature through a microscope. Now, for today at least, he would wake and take his wife with a light heart. ~~~ Spring 2000 Washington Memorial Hospital Next day ~~A dream is a wish your heart makes~~ Karen Kosseff, was the only woman at the FBI who dressed more austerely than Scully these past few years. Both women had their reasons, professional or personal, and who was to say both were not valid. Unlike Skinner, the small Obstetrics sign did not go unnoticed by the keen eyed Clinical Psychologist. She knocked at her patient's door. Something hospital staff members rarely do. "Come." Scully called out. "Karen.Comein.Please.Sit.I really need to talk." said she who never blurts. "Well, you are looking well. Are you?" asked Karen. "Physically, I'm fine. I'm being discharged tomorrow. Emotionally, I'm miiiles off target." "Oh?" "I don't even know where the target is any more." Scully sniffled. "I'm pregnant. PREGNANT. ME. Not that I don't 'want' to be. I am not 'supposed' to be. And on top of that Mulder decides to take a trip to the planet second star to the right and straight on till morning and I'm sitting here worrying, like a good Wendy, when I find him if I will be spelling the word m-o-U-r-n-i-n-g." She wiped her eyes with the heels of her hands. Karen handed her a tissue. "And you are feeling..?" "Angry, hurt, infuriated. If I see a Marvin the Martian tie I'll take hostages. E.T. better call home collect before he asks me for change." Scully blew her nose. Karen sensed the world was still safe if Scully could be so enraged and humourous at the same time. "When are you going to tell your family?" "When I know more about the viability of the baby and not until I absolutely have to. They, and I, don't need that emotional stress, right now. I know I'm being selfish; I want the freedom to look for Mulder." Karen smiled. "And I know that at times like this you need something to put your back against. So, I clearing you for work on the condition you see me at least once or twice a week - on weekends if necessary. Deal?" Scully's eyes showed her gratitude. "Deal." "Good. Now I..." "Wait. The dreams." Karen sat down again. "Ok. Tell me about them." "They are going back to when I was recruited by the FBI, I remembered seeing the Cigarette Smoking Man just before my first interview. He opened the door for me." "Also known as the 'The Cancer Man'? Can this be true?" "Yes. It might explain more than I want it to." "Well, don't worry. Your harmones are in a natural turmoil. If the dreams get particularly disturbing, call me anytime." "Thank you." Karen rose to leave again. "See you in a few days; no appointment necessary." "You 'really' do like me." quipped Scully quoting an award winning actress. "Just what I need, another Mulder mouth. Take a nap, Dana." "Aye, Cap'n", Scully yawned. "I yam in me hammock already." ~~ "The F.B.I.," William Scully, Sr. shouted. "is no place for a woman. Look at your size. You couldn't pick up a pistol much less shoot an assault weapon." "You may be right, but I have to try." "Why, for Christ sake? I thought this FBI business was settled years ago in Med. School." Scully looked questioningly over at her mother who made a cross over her heart and raised her hand. "How did you find out, Daddy? Only Mom and I knew." "Never mind how I found out. God Damn it, you could be shot. Anything can happen." "Bill, watch your Blasphemy," his wife warned. "I'll be working in a Forensic Laboratory, nine to six and I'll be teaching. My work with Dr. Quincy these past years has been accepted as my residency. I can start immediately after Training." Her father wasn't listening. "Let me see, you started your residency as a diagnostician, had an affair with a married 'mentor' and the FBI is your punishment, salvation, what? "Neither, it will be my profession." "I thought you had one." Scully's back stiffened. Her sky blue eyes shaded to a steel gray. Her voice dropped to absolute zero. "Daddy, I hope by that you meant I could have chosen to be a pediatrics, obgyn, or any other medical specialty, because if you intended anything else ..." "Bill Sr., Upstairs, NOW!." His wife demanded. "Dana, will you set out the dessert dishes, please." She pulled on her husband's arm. "Your father needs to be reminded who the Admiral is in this house." Margaret reached in her drawer, pulled out a pack of Virginia Slims and unceremoniously lit up. "William Scully, how could you be so stupid," his wife railed. "I thought Bill Jr.'s being a complete asshole was an aberration; now I know it's a fairly common Scully family trait." "And your daughter isn't one for fooling around with a married man?" Bill retorted. "She admitted it and walked out when she found out others would be hurt." "So what? She has to join the FBI like it was the French Foreign Legion?" "Because right now she feels like chicken shit. And you are not helping by stepping on her. "She needs to be away from the patriachial hierarchy that still exists in Medical Field. She's already got a reputation because no one would risk offending them by telling her Daniel was married. He hid it well from her. "She wants a fresh start to distinguish herself. At least with the FBI, she'll have the Equal Opportunity Commission behind her. "Still, why the F.B.I.?" "You seem to know more than Dana, Bill, you tell her. Why not the F.B.I.? All she sees is that they are trying to rebuild themselves to save lives." "I can't tell her," His shoulder's sagged. "It's beyond me, obviously." "Bill. You listen to me. I will not have you push Dana out of our lives the way, we did Melissa. She is your Starbuck. You would be more lost without her than I." William Scully swallowed hard. "What do I do now, Maggie, after what I said?" "You stomp downstairs and ask her, in your booming Captain's voice, if your heart can stand a small piece of my rich canoli cake. Dana will take it from there. She loves you too much to do otherwise." Margaret threw her cigarette butt into the master bathroom toilet. "Now, Captain, square your shoulders and let's do it." ~~~ Spring 2000 Georgetown Dana Scully's apartment Early Next Morning ~~A nightmare is a dream your life makes~~ Frohike, Byers and Langly buzzed instructions to Scully while she surveyed the alterations they made by way of alerts and alarm systems. "You did good, guys. But, when Mulder gets back I want a switch installed." "You bet." "Understood." "I promise." Each one swore. "Good. What's that?" asked Scully sharply. The fellows frowned at her skittishness. Byers looked through the peep hole and opened the door. "Dana, where have you been. I've been trying to reach you for days." "Mom, don't be get angry." Scully went to her desk for a pad and pencil. "Write on this paper what Daddy said when I told him the FBI would be my profession." Befuddled, Mrs. Scully did as her daughter asked. "Thanks for going along with me, Mom. I was in isolation at Washington General. All I needed was lots of uninterrupted, waited- on-hands-and-feet, sleep. At least, I know my 'numbers' are normal, scans are clear and the chip is functioning. I do have some news for you." The Gunmen stepped closer not hoping for another catch. "What is it, Dana?" "Mulder went back to Oregon and has been abducted". "What? I think I need to sit." The guys led the two women dining room table and brought them glasses of water." "What are you going to do, Dana?" Mrs. Scully's tone made the gunmen suspicious she already knew about the b-a-b-y which wasn't possible. More likely she was aware, as a mother can be, of her daughter's closeness to her partner. "Keep the X-files going and find him, Mom. Find him." "I know you will, dear. But, I've been trying to find you because a nurse named Greta keeps phoning for you." "I don't know any Nurse Greta." The gunmen's ears went up. "She wants you to attend to an elderly man dying of ... I forget the long medical term. His name is C. G. B. Spender. He needs his medications adjusted and he says he trusts no one but you." "Do you have the address?" Mrs. Scully reached into her purse. "Here." "Byers, call Skinner. Give him the address. Ask him to meet us there. Have him take any precautions he deems necessary. Remind him we want answers. Nobody jumps the gun." "Mom, I want you to come with us. If he is dying, he can use a rosary, if not he will need one anyway. He is the man responsible in no small way for my joining the FBI, and my abduction and the death of Melissa, maybe Daddy, Emily, Mulder's sister and father and now indirectly Mulder's abuction too." "Skinner says he's on the way." Byers informed Scully. "Come on, we'll take my mother's car. I don't care who drives." ~~~ Spring 2000 WASHINGTON, DC #2645 THE WATERGATE APARTMENTS Greta promptly followed directions regarding their entering the apartment. She gave Scully Spender's chart. Skinner searched the apartment and the bed then guarded the door inside while two men stood outside. The Scully women entered when Skinner issued the clear signal. Spender looked, as the oxymoron says, 'God Awful'". He sat up in a hospital bed breathing and smoking through a tracheal tube. "Welcome, Agent Scully, thank you for coming. And who is this you have with you?" "My mother." For once in his life, Spender was stymied and could barely manage a "Why?" "Because I wanted her to meet the man to whom she owes so much." Scully sneered. "Then, you received my present, Agent Scully." Spender grimaced as he flashed a smile. "What is he talking about, Dana?" Mrs. Scully asked. Scully hushed her mother with a raised hand. "You called me. What do you want? I am not a priest. I cannot give you absolution." "'"Vengeance is mine,'" sayeth the Lord'. Since, I don't believe in him, I want to give you the opportunity to take your vengeance. Besides your father there were others from his ship who wronged me and I took my revenge. And remember Pendrell" Spender wheezed. "Why should you not avenge them as well?" Mrs. Scully gasped. "Spender, I've seen your charts. I know your pain. I know how long you can stay alive with it. I know what you're pushing me to do. "You know what's really galling me? According to my beliefs, anyone who is true to his conscience to do his informed definition of 'good' is worthy of his reward. And that you have done. So, if I do as you ask, disregard my beliefs, you get the reward and I get shot to hell." "Then, as a 'Thank you' for my present." Spender coaxed. "Dana?" prodded Mrs Scully again. "He's yanking my chain about a blank disc, Mom. It's his grandstand play." "Spender, I don't want revenge. I want justice. And, that is harder to administer." Scully glanced at Greta. "Nurse, let me see Mr. Spender's chart again. Thank you." After about a minute of chart perusing, Scully announced, "Perhaps, there is something I can do." "Greta, could you help me examine Mr Spender. Mom, would you wait outside, please." ~~~A half hour later "Greta, I don't know how or why Mr. Spender's injuries from his fall have healed. I am going to order you to lower his morphine dosage accordingly, back to the level prior to the fall. "You will need to request permission from his regular doctor to continue the higher dosage. But, you already had this discussion with him, haven't you?" "Yes, over phone. Mr. Spender wanted a second opinion." "HE wanted more than that. Because he doesn't have all the resources he once did, he had you find me hoping I would put him down. "You understand that if you disregard my orders, you can lose your license or be charged with homocide, don't you?" "Yes, this I told to Mr. Spender." "Thank you, Greta. Please remember, I am not Mr. Spender's doctor. Don't call me again. It is unethical once I have agreed with his regular doctor. I don't envy your position. I hope you are being paid your worth. Goodbye." "No, you can't do thisto me. I've watched Presidents die...Noooo" the once powerful man screamed from his bed. Without a backwards glance, Scully walked out of the apartment with Skinner. "We got nothing about Mulder," Skinner bemoaned. "Sir, if he knew anything about Mulder, he would have offered it to us for the morphine. He can't think straight enough now to confabulate a plausible story." "You are probably right." Skinner admitted. "What did you do, Dana?" Mrs. Scully asked. "I did all I could do, Mom. I balanced the scales." End part 3/3 ### Notes: I tried to keep to X-file Timeline as per Marek and character facts as per Deep Background. My thanks to them. Typos can be fun as my own "Welcome to the wonderfuk world of technology". Net aquainance, La, allowed me to use her "Bug Hug for "big hug". Many thanks to Carol A. for the 'prods' and the betas. http://welcome.to/X-ploringACreek@Gretensgarde