From: Wil Castro Date: Sun, 17 Oct 1999 11:30:42 -0400 Subject: submitting a story, "Classified" part 1 of 2 Source: direct Reply To: wcastro@uog9.uog.edu Title: Classified author: agpama e-mail address: proxphiler@yahoo.com rating: R spoilers: none MSR disclaimer: No copyright infringement is intended with the creation of this story. I dont own the wonderful characters, Chris Carter and 1013 productions does. Summary: Mulder embarks on a secret mission that puts the Lone Gunmen on a wild goose chase, and Scully, in an evening dress, at the hospital. CLASSIFIED (Part 1 of 2) 7:22 a.m. WASHINGTON HERALD BUILDING Mulder climbed up the stairs of the Washington Herald Building, occasionally looking back to see if anyone had followed him. 7:49 a.m. He walked down the stairs looking both ways before breathing a sigh of relief in accomplishing a task he hopes no one will find out. A man, in a leather jacket with slick black hair, recognized Mulder from inside the building and slowly followed close behind him. He is curious to find out about what had brought him there. ONE WEEK LATER 5:00 p.m. J. EDGAR HOOVER BUILDING Mulder packs his things from his desk and picks his coat up before approaching Scully. "I'm going to head home early. I want to catch the Knicks game on TV, so if it's....." he said before Scully cut him off. "Oh al right then," she said. "No problem. I'm going to stay a while to finish up this report." "You'll be al right here. I mean I can...." he said and was silenced by her again. "I'm fine! Now go!" she commanded. With that resolved, they exchanged smiles briefly before Mulder shut the office door behind him. As soon as she felt that Mulder was safely making his way out of the building she scrounged up her things and dumped them into her computer bag, hurrying, the way Mulder did, out the door. She drove out of the building parking garage only to be caught in the middle of the worst traffic she has seen since she last worked an ordinary eight hour job. Working on the X-files kept her in the basement well after working hours almost all the time, and today, was not the day to break out of that routine. Meanwhile two street lights ahead of her, sat Mulder stuck in the very same traffic, looking into the distance where a five-car collision had occurred. He groaned in frustration, knowing he was going to be late for a very important appointment. 6:17 p.m. FREEWAY After spending thirty minutes trying to escape traffic, he found himself taking another thirty minutes trying to find his way back into the city after taking numerous detours. He finally arrived at the restaurant and asked the maitre-de for the table reserved for him and a guest. He was disappointed to see it empty but sat down anyhow. Every second seemed like an eternity as he looked at his watch and hoped that even if he was an hour late that the least his guest could've done was wait. The fact that he did not come on time, must have scared her off, thinking that he had stood her up. He felt awful for this woman, whom he had never met, and attempted to soothe his sorrow by tearing off a piece of the complimentary breadsticks with his teeth as he sat, sulking in his chair. A waiter came by to replace the empty basket of breadsticks on Mulder's table, and to hand him a note. The message enclosed read, "What were once dreams, reached and remembered. Meet me at the Smithsonian at 9:00 tonight." He took a deep breath and smiled, feeling his self-esteem up-lifted, then placed the note in his pocket as he decided to open the menu to get a bite to eat. 6:25 p.m. There was a disturbance by the entrance of the restaurant. Mulder turned to see what was going on and saw a man arguing with the maitre-de. Then someone from the other side of the room shouted, "Get an ambulance quick!" Mudler rose from his seat along with other curious customers to get a closer look at the commotion. When he finally got through the crowd, he saw two women being fanned by the waiters. They were grabbing onto their stomachs, sweating and squeamishly green on their face. The man who was arguing with the maitre-de approached the crowd and started to speak above them. The waiters took him by the arms but he went on to say as he was being let out the door, "My wife is at the hospital at this moment suffering from food poisoning after eating lunch here this afternoon. It may take a couple of hours to a few minutes to set in for some people, so take pre cautions, and be ready to go to the hospital before the symptoms worsen!" And he was shoved out the door, with the door slammed shut in front of him. The crowd started to mumble amongst each other, observing the person beside them for such symptoms. Symptoms starting to show on Mulder. "Are you feeling sick sir?" the lady asked. "No!" Mulder cried. He laughed, walking back to his table, at what the hysteria had caused. A grumbling sensation started to aggravate his belly, at first. Then, it turned into a sharp piercing pain. He staggered to the restroom and found other customers already experiencing the same thing he was, either expectorating or defecating the toxic fluid from their bodies. It was a mad house Several ambulances had evacuated half of the customers from the restaurant to the hospital. 8:25 p.m. Georgetown Hospital They had just pumped his stomach of its contents, and a nurse had already brought him out into the emergency room hallway where other food poisoning patients sat and waited for the symptoms to subside. Weak from enduring the wrenching pain, but past the worst part, he looked around him to see other unfortunate epicureans still worst off than when he first came in. He caught a blurry sight of a doctor lovingly tending to the patients who were still experiencing the discomforts. For a moment, he wished that he was as sick as they were so he can be tended to by her. He observed the way she gently placed her hand on their foreheads to check for their temperature, and how she held their hand while she reassured them that everything was going to be okay. She must have been called in on an emergency to help staff the hospital's ER as it was being inundated with food-borne illness cases. He noticed an elegant evening dress underneath her trench-coat. As if she picked up the sense of his admiration for her, she turned abruptly to his direction. "Mulder? You're done?" the woman asked. Mulder's eyes not only widened, but was now able to focus, to see that the doctor was, "Scully?" She approached him and asked, "Are you okay, Mulder? You look pale?" Indeed he was, not from his ailment but from realizing that the beautiful doctor was none other than his primary physician, Dr. Dana Scully. "Why are you here?" he asked, his voice box strained by a tube the doctors had inserted into his throat to pump the food from his aching stomach. "Hospital staff took my number from your wallet and contacted me. I came as fast as I could," she answered him, with sparkling eyes that he only noticed now, made obvious by the shimmering jewelry that had accentuated her beauty. "Scully, what's the occasion?" "What?" she asked, initially confused to hear him ask that question. "Why are you wearing an evening dress to the hospital?" he asked, weak yet curious. "Oh! This?! Oh! I am...going to attend a seminar," she answered feebly. "For what?" "Um, new medical breakthroughs associated with the use of.... tropical plants," she muttered almost as if she was questioning herself. "You're not going to fall for those network-marketing, guaranteed-to-make-you-rich-quick scams, are you Scully? And waste a beautiful dress for that?" Scully was flattered to hear him take notice of the dress she excitedly picked with a goal in mind accomplished-to look outstanding. "No. I'm not going to waste it being here. I checked your chart, and it looks good so far, but we won't know exactly the results until tomorrow of what caused the outbreak, but they've taken numerous tests on each of the victims of food poisoning. A public health official closed the establishment down suspecting that the bread dough may have been cross-contaminated due to improper storage of meat produce." Mulder chuckled quietly, "That would explain it." "Well, Mulder. Since you appear in good health again, I'll be on my way. But I'll be here tomorrow morning before they release you...." she said. "You're going to leave me?" he cried. She tilted her head to the side displaying pity, but apparently had difficulty in saying it, "Mulder. Okay I'll be back in an hour. I really have to go!" "Me too!" he exclaimed immediately, surprising Scully with his reaction. Her looks remained questioning as Mulder had to explain. "I need to go...home...too. You see, I'm fine now. So you can take me home and I'll rest there, I promise. I'll be able to recover a lot more quickly having some peace and quiet. Look at this place. C'mon Scully, I'll call you if I start to act up again," he begged Scully with those puppy dog eyes. She didn't want to argue and upset him any further, not that she wasn't concerned about his condition, she was very concerned, and this was not one of those serious situations, that would require constant supervision, but mainly because she knew that she was needed more at her previous engagement. "I'll talk to the doctors," she immediately submitted, and left to find one. When she was out of his sight, he pulled out the note from his coat pocket and read it again. He had to make it this time, and on time, at the Smithsonian, if he really wanted to meet this person. 8:38 p.m. He completely lost track of time and only remembered to ask Scully for it as they both stepped onto the parking lot pavement. "It's twenty til nine," she answered tugging on his arm, urging him to walk faster. He slowed the pace down as he thought for a second, and realized that he left his car at the restaurant, that if Scully dropped him home there wouldn't be any transportation to get him to the Smithsonian tonight. "Um, you know what I think? You should head straight to your seminar and I'll hail for a cab." "Don't be riduculous Mulder. I'm taking you home," she insisted. "No! It's okay Scully. I would really feel bad if you missed your seminar." He turned around and spotted a cab parked at the curb, then slowly inched towards it, lifting his arm to flag down the cabby. Before she could say another word, Mulder had already climbed into the cab. She was thankful, after all that, to still be able to make it to where she needed to go. (continued) Classified (Part 2 of 2) 9:13 p.m. SMITHSONIAN INSTITUTE "Sorry sir but we're closed," a security guard said to him as he ran into the building from the main entrance. "I'm here to meet someone. Did you see a woman come in here?" Mulder urgently asked. "Can you be more specific?" the guard asked. "She's..." he stops and realizes that he hasn't even seen her himself. "Look I need to find her. She said she'll be here!" "Look this building is completely clear. The last person left ten minutes ago. Now, I'll have to ask you to please exit the building!" He sat himself on the front steps of the Smithsonian, holding the note in his hand. Convinced now that this impulsive rendezvous was all a wild goose chase, that he was only fooling himself about love and destiny. He wanted to knock his head for being so naove about building the intrigue on a woman whom he has never met nor talked to, but shared a connection of the minds with through a column he placed in the personal ads. He remembered when he decided to submit the ad, but couldn't recall exactly what possessed him to even think what he thought up. He knew why he did it. He just wanted to forget all about it now. It had caused him a lot of turmoil and inner torment to keep these emotions bottled up inside that drove into his gut, worst than the contaminated food churning in his stomach. Those sleepless nights were answered when he decided to do what he needed to do, desperately. Not act desperately, mind you, but act from the desperation of assistance from a source qualified enough to relate to his emotions-the opposite sex. The response was tremendous because of the style he had chosen to write it in. He received dozens of letters from women, submitting their response to his ad in a matter of days. And he sat down and actually made the time to read all of them. Many praising him for being such a die-hard romantic in this day and age of "foreplay" as the only type of romance. He was one in the literary sense, as he re-invented the personal ads. However, the compliments came pouring in, he discarded one after the other until he found one letter-the letter he kept, a simple letter, unlike the others that were drawn-out and mellow dramatic. The few words this letter contained became the key to his destiny. He had put all his faith in the words of a stranger who had provided him with an answer that lingered in his mind, long enough to have more questions surface, which prompted him to send this stranger a request to meet and discuss this important issue further. The ad was written in a form of a poem, about seeking advice from women about another, which went: When you owe your life to a woman whose unwavering generosity makes love an inferior sensation, when her power intimidated you yet captivated you to endure watching wonders unravel a truth untamed, leaving two hearts unanswered, having one need for one, reaching infinitely, not outwardly but inwardly to find the words to tell of her worth, that a mute heart has not learned the language my lips yearn to bring forth, to tell how much I owe, want to own, and how I want to be her destiny..... With all the helpful answers he received, one had such an impact on him, even with a detached explanation of what was interpreted of his poem. No one clearly understood what he was trying to convey as well as this one note had. "The truth is your destiny." That was all she wrote on a piece of paper, with a return address, of course. "Mulder?" Mulder slowly lifted his head to look up at a familiar face, the face he wanted to behold; of a woman he respected so deeply, for whom he went out of his way, to bring meaning into their un-definable relationship. He loved her with so great a passion, that he couldn't unleash its very power on her. Knowing that falling in love is exactly what it meant-losing ground and drifting into oblivion inside the unfamiliar walls of his heart. But that was before he read that note and ingrained into his head. He wanted to be firm, attempting to control what he had been harboring since reviving her lifeless form in the Antarctic, now growing into a blazing inferno inside him. This was an outlet for him, an intellectual purging of the mind to keep his chivalry in check and to make the world know the existence of an incredible woman, standing in front of him at that and every moment, always there to pick him up. "How did you know I'd be here?" he asked. "I didn't," she responded. He rose from the steps and walked closer to her. "Then what are you doing here, aren't you suppose to be at a function? She ignored his question, and stared at him with those intense eyes, the ones she always had on while listening to one of his unbelievable theories. "Mulder? What is the name of the restaurant that gave you food poisoning?" She kept looking at him, anxiously anticipating his answer. Her mind painted the final strokes of an image in her brain, while Mulder's played a game of connect-the-dots. Although they were at two different areas of the brain, both produced the very same mental picture. This time Mulder returned his stoned face look at her, expressing the same kind of anxiousness she did as he ignored her question deciding to ask one himself. "Was it at the very same restaurant where your seminar is, the "Al Dente" Restaurant at 105 Beacon Street? All she could do was swallow, after every other word he uttered. The more accurate he got to naming the meeting place, the more difficult it became for her to swallow. "You're the one," he said as stoned face as she's ever seen, that if one knew him, that was his hallmark expression of utter awe. She stood there observing the stoic expression in his eyes turn into a bright glow as images danced in them, answering to himself what Dana asked outloud, "You wrote the ad? .....I had no idea....It was you I was writing to?" She asked it to herself breathlessly, trembling at the knees, while Mulder's buckled, making him fall to his on the grass. "Let's get you out of here." She knelt down beside him and whispered those words in his ears as she tried to lift him back up. "It's you...It was you....my destiny....It...It's you! " he babbled incoherently, pulling out the grass from the Smithsonian yard. Scully couldn't see what he was doing with his face looking towards the grass, whether he was giggling like a silly teen-age girl, or crying like a silly teen-age girl. As she squeezed his shoulder, he turned to look at her to show that he was doing both. "What was once a dream, is reached....." he spoke as he rose together with Scully, to their feet. Then she joined in to say, "....and remembered." She looked at his hazy eyes and smiled. "You say such beautiful words Mulder." "They're for you, Dana. It was all about you," he said to her with his fingers caressing a face flushed with embarrassment and surprise. The moment was beautiful, with the big full moon casting its light on them, illuminating the emotions that had spread into the surrounding atmosphere, making Dana's skin glow radiantly. She looked into those tender eyes and mentally recited what she had memorized as a poetic gesture of love, the love that had been indirectly expressed from a stranger, but was directly about her. It was all about her, and all that she could do at that moment was look deeply into the eyes that never needed a single word at all from her. Even as she thought, a million conversations were taking place. There was still so much to learn from each other, so much the heart was preparing itself to feel as each verse had sunk into Dana's heart, and bringing strength and courage into Mulder's, to act on his feelings-once words, transformed into a soul, like a life force into two dormant hearts, now beating stronger and louder with a new rhythm. The moment was perfect for their glowing bodies to unleash an uncontaminated desire on flesh, so that it's infectious energy, can spread throughout the bloodstream, rushing straight for the heart. In other words, the moment was indeed in need of a kiss, to make it perfect, which Mulder was attempting to accomplish this time, inching closer to her again, when the lower part of his body began to demand his attention. He held onto her shoulders and apologetically asked, "Scully? Can you get me home, pronto?" Scully asked him as they both headed for her car, "Are you okay?" "Oh yeah. I hope its just a case of the butterflies," he said placing an arm around Scully's shoulders and the other on his tummy. 9:32 p.m APT. 42 ALEXANDRIA, VIRGINIA "Let me get this straight Mulder. If you didn't send me that note, who did?" Scully asked as Mulder opened his apartment door for her. "All I know is we both got the same message to meet at the Smithsonian, but from who? And why?" he replied. When he flicked the light switch on, they both noticed before them a beautifully arranged candlelight dinner for two on the coffee table. "You shouldn't have done this for me Scully. I don't think I could take another bite after what happened tonight," Mulder said looking at the basket of bread rolls. "Mulder, I didn't do this. Looks like your dream girl did," Scully said looking at the same bread rolls, becoming more appetizing by the second. She had saved her appetite for the dinner date that never took place, and now she was famished. "This wasn't your idea, then?" he asked, hinting to her that it was her who was his dream girl. "No Mulder, but someone had apparently gone to a whole lot of trouble to bring us together that it may not be as coincidental as you think it is," she said picking up one of the bread rolls. "I have a feeling I know who went to all the trouble," he said from the other room, as he opened his closet door, watching three men roll out of the cramped space. "You guys mind telling me what you're doing in my closet?" Byers answered, while wiping the dust off his suit, "Wrong exit?" "Nice try, Mr. Slick," Langly quipped at Byers. "We were just around the neighborhood and thought you'd like some dinner," Frohike explained. They walked out the room and Scully jumped to see all three of them catch her gnawing on a bread roll, "Mmm, what's going on?" she asked with her mouth full. "Okay guys start explaining," Mulder demanded. The Lone Gunmen looked at him, then turned towards Dana who had crumbs of bread trailing off into her cleavage. Frohike stood forward and started to explain, "We sent both of you the note to meet at the Smithsonian." "This was all a scam?" Scully asked, disappointed more so than annoyed. "No, on the contrary," Byers replied. "I admit we had a hand in it, but the rest were pretty much in both your control." "Like the newspaper left on my doorstep. How it was turned to that particular ad and circled with red ink," Scully recalled. "Yup, but it was your will to respond to the ad, and Mulder's decision to choose your letter from all the responses. We had no hand in that at all," Langly declared. "So how'd you guys find out that it was her all this time?" Mulder asked. "We didn't," Buyers stated, "Until Frohike snuck into your apartment, four days ago, to borrow one of your videotapes. He found the letters you threw away and noticed an envelope, ready to be sent out, with an address familiar to him." It was common knowledge that Frohike would have Scully's mailing address memorized. Mulder remembered, that he too, contemplated on replying to the anonymous sender of the letter that forever changed the course of his relationship with Scully. "So you guys knew that Mulder wrote the ad?" Scully asked, hoping to find out if this was actually the hand of fate. "Yeah, Frohike spotted him at the Herald, submitting an article, "Byers explained, "He found out through a contact from within that you had submitted some type of poetry in the personal ads. "What were you doing there, anyhow, Frohike?" Mulder inquired. "That's classified," Frohike facetiously replied. Then Byers continued, "When we read it, we had to give Miss Scully a fair share in it; an opportunity to respond. We left the rest up to fate, and low and behold, here we all are." He chuckled for a bit, prompting the rest to find humor in his veritable comment. "You guys followed us around the whole evening?" Mulder asked. Langly looked at Byers and nervously replied, "Not exactly. We wanted to see the expression on your faces when you'd finally meet at the restaurant. Frohike followed behind Scully to make sure she was going to the right place, and we followed behind you. Frohike interrupted and continued telling their adventure, "I called on the phone and the guys assumed you were getting a little anxious in your chair, so that's when we decided to write the notes and leave them there. We paid off the waiter to wait for Miss Scully who arrived shortly after the ambulances left." "We were sitting on the edge of our seats the whole evening watching you guys get into all sorts of things. I'll tell you, we were afraid it wasn't going to happen. But it did!" Byers rejoiced. "Whoa! Talk about celestial intervention!" Langly exclaimed, overwhelmed how the night's unpredictable events had turned out for the better, with everyone accomplishing the mission of love and destiny. "Well, we better get going. So the two of you can continue with your evening," Byers said as he gestrured to his friends to get a move on. "One of these days Miss Scully, you'll have to tell us what you wrote," Frohike said as he passed by her on his way out. Scully blushed, "that's classified," she said as they both shared a smile. Mulder saw them out the door, giving each one a bear hug before letting them out. They were indeed, loyal friends to him, true watchdogs, that even in his search for love did they work behind the scenes to get the infornation he needed-exactly what he needed delivered, as it stood right in the middle of his apartment, chewing on a bread roll. He kept watch over them as the elevator door closed, smiling proudly at the world that revolved around him. At that moment it was spinning to his every move, even as he shut the door. When he turned around he found Scully making herself comfortable on the floor by the coffee table. She had taken advantage of the meal prepared for the both of them. "Mulder, this is delicious. You just have to try this," she said, shoving a piece of sautee'd mushroom between her glossy lips. "No thanks. I'll just sit here, and wait for these butterflies to calm down." "You know, getting food into your system will help alleviate the sensation in your stomach," Scully informed him, acting on the same advice, to relieve her butterflies. After Mulder watched Scully scrape off the last speck of food on her plate, he sat and thought about how comfortable she became in front of him. She didn't have to act overly sophisticated in that evening dress, practicing table etiquette before a gentleman, but she had always been well-mannered, and every action exemplified her stateliness. He continued to observe her as she eased herself on the couch. "This dress has reached its maximum capacity," she gasped out. "I don't think I can breath in it, after that meal." Mulder laughed at her cute mannerisms. They made him want to cozy up and treat her like a teddy bear. "Mulder I better head on home and slip out of these clothes before it's too late," she gasped out again as she struggled to stand up. "Nonsense, Scully. Just change into my clothes. I'll give you a long shirt you can wear," he suggested. "Don't be ridiculous Mulder..." He continued to say, "So you'll be comfortable while we talk. I still have quite a few questions to ask, remember?" She submitted, and Mulder jumped to find a shirt. "What the heck it's Friday," she commented. "Will you unzip me please?" she muttered. Mulder slowly unzipped the dress until it reached the very bottom, where he caught a view of her underwear. It was a thong, he thought. He kept his eyes there until Scully moved forward to slip the dress of f. His eyes followed the downward course of the dress before reversing back up to see the unraveled perfection of the female anatomical structure from the bottom up. He slowly observed Dana's long silky, chiseled legs, and then went on to the hips that subtly swayed as she swung the shirt around her. Without thinking, he stepped forward to pull himself against her frame, using her arms to brace him, then wrapping his around her chest. Dana turned her head to meet his face looming over her. Their eyes met and a smile crept from their mouths that described the elation they were feeling about the physical contact made. The contact, they both knew, would open the doors to more electrically charged ones than this. It was the first made in their new boundless relationship. Still very near to her eyes, he said, "..to have and to hold from this day forward...." She could just melt in his arms, hearing those words, adding to her thoughts that he always had a way with them. Then she withdrew from him realizing the origin of that phrase, 'Oh my God. He's going to propose to me while I'm half naked,' she thought frantically as she headed back to the couch, speaking coolly though, "Come here Mulder we have so much to talk about." He followed immediately. "Scully?" "Hmm?" she responded. "Why did you respond?" his question made her straighten herself for a second. She had to think about it before answering, "I thought the answer was plain and simple, something we tend to overlook when we focus on the grandeur. You look at something for what it symbolizes, drawing an intangible reference to what it represents. In doing that, you lose it's true meaning to a bunch of words multiplied, making it more difficult to express accurately. The truth is all we need to come close to perfection, and that's what I interpreted from the poem of what I thought was about a man who saw this in a woman." "That's all I need to do?" he asked of her. She looked at him and saw that his eyes stopped dancing. They were now burning intensely as it pierced into Dana's flesh. He needed the answer so badly that the silence could just as easily killed him. "To do what?" she asked. "To simplify my view of the greatest thing that ever happened to me?" A familiar color of darkness had re-entered his eyes, as he continued on, "You are a constant in my life. No matter how much we've grown together, you remain firm. Because what you've learned and seen has made you stronger. The things that have been done to you had bore in you the key to unlocking the mysteries we relentlessly pursue, then to have the truth elude us consequently as it has consumed you. Yet, one truth has remained with me, before my eyes, and heart to behold. That if I am terminated..." "Mulder, don't say..." she attempted to plead, but Mulder proceeded, "If I don't beat the odds the next time around, I want you to know...." He moved in closer and caressed her crumbling countenance. Her tears had fallen freely and plentifully down her cheek. "...I was destined to be saved by you, to have you as a source, putting meaning, in every facet of my existence; of humanity, that abandoned the idealistic world I live in; of comfort, when you offer your heart to persevere with this journey; and of truth, when you first walked into my life. A life, which started with you-my destiny." Slowly drawing towards each other, hearing their hearts beat loudly against their chests as contact was made again. It felt terribly painful for Scully to hear those morbid words from Mulder, realizing that their mortality is the only thing that can divide them forever-something she could not face after this revelation of all revelations. She felt it to be inevitable and wanted to hide him from the rest of the world so she could keep him forever, but that's not how it was going to be. Her fear had subsided as Mulder's lips engaged on hers, generating a massaging affect that relaxed their taut nerves. There was indeed nothing to fear. Mulder had found one of his truths, making Dana lay claim to the passion that has driven him, for years, and for her tonight and forever. THE END please send comments to proxphiler@yahoo.com