From math.ohio-state.edu!cs.utexas.edu!newshost.convex.com!newsgate.duke.edu!zombie.ncsc.mil!nntp.coast.net!howland.reston.ans.net!vixen.cso.uiuc.edu!newsfeed.internetmci.com!news.ycc.yale.edu!yale!news-mail-gateway!daemon Thu Jul 11 20:21:01 1996 Article: 21194 of alt.tv.x-files.creative Path: math.ohio-state.edu!cs.utexas.edu!newshost.convex.com!newsgate.duke.edu!zombie.ncsc.mil!nntp.coast.net!howland.reston.ans.net!vixen.cso.uiuc.edu!newsfeed.internetmci.com!news.ycc.yale.edu!yale!news-mail-gateway!daemon From: Gil Trevizo Newsgroups: alt.tv.x-files.creative Subject: Origins 1/? (fwd) Date: 11 Jul 1996 19:30:18 -0400 Organization: Yale CS Mail/News Gateway Lines: 189 Sender: daemon@cs.yale.edu Message-ID: <19960711193012.aaaa001Gi@babyblue.cs.yale.edu> NNTP-Posting-Host: babyblue.cs.yale.edu Status: RO I DID NOT WRITE THIS - I am the administrator for the x-files-fanfic mailing list and am posting this story for a subscriber. For information on subscribing to the x-files-fanfic mailing list, go to . Please send all comments to the author at . xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx Okay, so Mulder in the courtroom is still giving me fits. This is a tension reliever...a prequel! This is pre-X-Files and pre-Scully, but ties in with my other stories so if you haven't read them, be forewarned that you may be lost...well, maybe not, since its a self-contained prequel and doesn't pertain to any other stories, except for my established characters. Hmmm... Speaking of characters, Mulder belongs to Chris Carter, et al, but all other characters are mine. No infringement is intended. Obviously not a M&S romance, but a Mulder with someone else story...you have been officially warned! Summary: Mulder gets a trainee, and investigates a mysterious disappearance in a small Georgia town. Origins 1/? By Linda Winfree Hoover Building Washington, DC Tuesday 12:03 pm Special Agent Fox Mulder glanced up as Robert Hill dropped a file on his desk. "Got a weird one this time, Mulder. Its spooky." Mulder opened the folder, grimacing. The puns were old and getting older. "Thanks a lot, Bob." "There's more," Hill grinned. Mulder groaned. "What?" "You have help this time." Hill's grin grew wider. "A trainee, fresh out of Quantico." Mulder slapped the folder closed. "Great," he sighed. This was the last thing he needed. He had been planning to take some time off...yeah, right. He liked working...alone. And a trainee? Oh, just great. He glanced at the calendar, making sure it wasn't Friday the thirteenth. His day had started out badly. He'd overslept and consequently been late for a meeting with his Assistant Director. And now this... Mulder opened the folder again, this time reading the contents. The case might make up for having a tag-along. In a small Georgia town, outside of Atlanta, a local politician's daughter had disappeared without a trace and with no witnesses. Her disappearance had occurred on the ten year anniversary of an identical incident in the same town. "...supposed to be in Hartley's office at 1:15," Hill was saying. Mulder looked up, confused. He had obviously missed something. "What?" he asked. Hill sighed, exasperated. "I said, you're supposed to be in Hartley's office at 1:15. Agent Falconetti will meet you there." Mulder nodded, and satisfied, Hill returned to his own office. Maybe he'd get lucky and this kid would be at least possess a modicum of intelligence. Not likely, with the way his luck had been running lately. He glanced at his watch. He still had time to grab a sandwich, and some air, before he had to be in Hartley's office. **************************************************************************** Office of Asst. Director William Hartley Hoover Building Washington, DC Tuesday 1:21 pm Special Agent Caitlin Falconetti surrepticiously checked her watch again. Agent Mulder was late. And AD Hartley was not happy about it. He had ushered her into his office at precisely 1:15 and had spent the last six minutes asking questions about her education and training at Quantico. The intercom on Hartley's desk buzzed and he hit the button with barely suppressed irritation. "Yes?" His secretary's voice was thin and metallic through the speaker. "Agent Mulder is here, Sir." "Send him in," Hartley commanded, the words terse and clipped. Caitlin stood automatically as the tall, dark-haired man strode into the room. He didn't spare her a glance, but spoke directly to Hartley. "Sorry, Sir, there was an accident on Williamson that tied up traffic..." Hartley waved the apology away. "Have a seat, Agent Mulder." Hartley waited until the two agents were settled into their chairs before opening the file in front of him. "Are you both familiar with the case?" At their affirmative nods, he continued. "Then you understand the sensitivity of this matter?" Caitlin got the impression that this inquiry was directed at Agent Mulder, who nodded. "Yes, sir." Hartley removed his glasses. "Agent Mulder, I do not always approve of your methods, but you do get results. That's why I had you assinged to this case. But one complaint, and I'll have you removed from the case immediately. Is that understood?" "Yes, sir." Hartley nodded. "That will be all." And just like that they were dismissed. Mulder held the door for Caitlin, but in the hallway she had to quicken her stride to keep up with him. She sensed his anger, and felt her own rise in return. "Is my being on this case a problem for you, Agent Mulder?" she asked, her voice a husky Texas drawl. He stopped so suddenly that she almost collided with his back. He looked down at her, reading the challenge in her dark green eyes. he thought. "Not at all, Agent Falconetti," he said aloud. "I'm just used to working alone." She looked at him. "And not working with trainees." Again, he looked at her with respect. "Exactly. Are you always so forthright?" She grinned. "Always." He punched the button for the elevator. "How soon can you be ready to leave?" The grin stayed in place. "Whenever you are. I'm already packed." ****************************************************************************** Highway 3 Near Lesley, Georgia Tuesday 5:04 pm Mulder glanced at Caitlin out of the corner of his eye. She sat in the passenger seat, looking over the case file again. She had changed clothes, exchanging her burgundy suit for beige linen slacks and a olive cotton sweater for the flight to Atlanta. Her black hair was still in a French braid. "So why did you transfer out of Hutchins' class at Quantico? Couldn't take the heat?" She looked up at him quickly. "Stop the car, Agent Mulder." He did as she asked, pulling over to the side of the two lane highway. When he turned in her direction, he was surprised at the intensity of the anger that snapped in her eyes. "For your information, Agent Mulder, Agent Hutchins threatened to flunk me out of Quantico if I didn't sleep with him. The Bureau's solution to my complaint was to transfer me to another class." Mulder opened his mouth to tell her that he had been teasing but Caitlin didn't give him the chance. "I worked very hard to get where I am today, Agent Mulder. And the first lesson I leaned at Quantico was not to make assumptions. Obviously, you were absent from class that day." Her attitude irritated him. "Agent Falconetti, I am not casting aspersions on your ability. I know several male agents who dropped Hutchins' course because of the caseload." She sighed, glancing out the window. "I'm sorry, okay? I was *lucky* enough to be one of only four female agents to come out of Quantico this term. I feel like I've been fighting the old-boy network for the last thirteen week." He grinned at her. "You have. And it only gets worse from here." She returned his smile. "I can handle it," Caitlin grinned impishly. "You weren't the only one to come out of Quantico with an irritating nickname." "Oh?" he asked, intrigued. "Oh. Mine's five letters and starts with a capital *B*. You figure it out." He was still laughing when he pulled the car back onto the road. ****************************************************************************** To be continued... Okay, so its not the most brilliant thing I've ever written...I'm killing time! From math.ohio-state.edu!usc!elroy.jpl.nasa.gov!swrinde!newsfeed.internetmci.com!news.ycc.yale.edu!yale!news-mail-gateway!daemon Thu Jul 11 21:57:42 1996 Article: 21203 of alt.tv.x-files.creative Path: math.ohio-state.edu!usc!elroy.jpl.nasa.gov!swrinde!newsfeed.internetmci.com!news.ycc.yale.edu!yale!news-mail-gateway!daemon From: Gil Trevizo Newsgroups: alt.tv.x-files.creative Subject: Origins 2/? (fwd) Date: 11 Jul 1996 20:39:08 -0400 Organization: Yale CS Mail/News Gateway Lines: 173 Sender: daemon@cs.yale.edu Message-ID: <19960711203905.aaaa003_u@babyblue.cs.yale.edu> NNTP-Posting-Host: babyblue.cs.yale.edu Status: RO I DID NOT WRITE THIS - I am the administrator for the x-files-fanfic mailing list and am posting this story for a subscriber. For information on subscribing to the x-files-fanfic mailing list, go to . Please send all comments to the author at . xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx Please see part one for disclaimer, summary, etc. Origins 2/? By Linda Winfree Lesley Inn and Restaurant Lesley, Georgia Tuesday 7:31 pm Amazed, Mulder watched Caitlin as she took a bite of her second slice of pecan pie. "Do you always eat like this?" She laughed. "Are you always this rude? And yes, I always eat like this. I inherited my dad's metabolism. I burn everything off." He raised his eyebrows, skeptical. "Metabolism, huh?" She looked a trifle sheepish. "Well, okay, a good metabolism and a five-mile run four days a week." She laid her fork neatly across the empty saucer. "So where do you want to start?" He glanced at her quickly, biting down hard on his cheek to keep from blurting out the double entendre that had sprung to mind. He didn't think Agent Falconetti would appreciate his particular brand of humor. "I think we should talk to the local law enforcement agency first. They requested our involvement and might be able to give us more information on the case." She leaned forward, chin on her hand, a deceptively innocent look on her face. "Gee, Agent Mulder, I didn't think you ever did anything by the book. That sounded like a text-book answer." Mulder grinned. "You're making assumptions, Agent Falconetti. After we talk to the locals, I want to go the local library." He expected the younger agent to ask . He was surprised when she grinned back. "Newspaper clippings from the first disappearance." Mulder leaned back in the booth, stretching out an arm along the back. "I'm impressed." She laughed again, grabbing her check and heading for the cashier's counter. "Agent Mulder," she called, laughter still sparkling in her voice, "you haven't seen anything yet." Mulder bit his cheek again. ****************************************************************************** Lesley Police Department Lesley, Georgia Wednesday 9:01 am Mulder saw Caitlin roll her eyes in exasperation as the sheriff yet again directed his answer to Caitlin's question at Mulder. Sheriff Rutland fit the stereotype of a Southern sheriff perfectly. He was tall, loud, carried an extra twenty pounds on his frame and possessed the worst sexist attitude Mulder had ever seen. Mulder half expected Caitlin to protest or admonish Rutland. But she only settled back in her chair, smiling slightly, as she took the diplomatic high-road and let Mulder conduct the interview. Mulder thought disgustedly. Rutland had been particularly uncooperative. They knew little more now than they had when they arrived in his office at 8:30. Caitlin excused herself quietly, going into the outer office. Mulder asked a few more questions, which Rutland skillfully evaded before joining her. She was leaning against the front dispatch desk, talking with a young deputy who had a definite love-struck look about him. Mulder thought drily. He held the door for her as they exited the building into the early morning sunlight. Already the humidity was high, the heat lying on them like a wet blanket. Mulder shrugged uncomfortably in his dark blue suit. Unlike him, Caitlin had come prepared for a Georgia summer, wearing a simple but professional ivory linen shift. Mulder glanced at her in the car. "Flirting, Agent Falconetti?" "Interviewing, Agent Mulder," she corrected him. "I probably learned more from Deputy Stanton in five minutes than you did in thirty with Sheriff Rutland." "Considering that he told us next to nothing, you're probably right," Mulder conceded. "So what did Deputy Stanton tell you." She opened the leather folio notebook that she carried. "That contrary to what the reports say, there was a witness to the disappearance of Lynn Fitzgerald ten years ago." Mulder swung his eyes to her momentarily, interested, ignoring the smug look in her eyes. "Who?" he asked. "Her best friend, Sharon Adams," she said, and waited patiently for his reaction. Caitlin didn't have to wait long. "Sharon Adams! That's the mother of the little girl who disappeared." She stifled a grin. "Yes, I know, Agent Mulder. I read the reports, remember." She sighed. "But I don't know how much this helps. Guess what Sharon Adams' maiden name was?" Mulder felt a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach. He *knew* he wasn't going to like what she had to tell him. "What?" Caitlin closed her notebook with a snap. "Rutland. She's Sheriff Rutland's daughter." ****************************************************************************** DeSoto Trail Library Lesley, Georgia Wednesday 1:17 pm Caitlin stretched tiredly, unsuccessfully trying to brush the dust from her once-ivory dress. Lesley's small library had not yet entered the modern age of microfilm, and stored all of the newspaper archives in their original form. She and Mulder had been perusing back copies since ten a.m. She looked at him where he sat slumped over yet another issue of the Lesley Enterprise. His hair was mussed from his habit of repeatedly running his hands through it, and there was a smudge of newsprint on his nose. He had removed his coat and tie. He looked up as she sighed, relaxing from her stretch. He pushed the paper away. "I think I'm dying of terminal boredom. Doesn't anything interesting happen here?" Caitlin grinned at him. "Sure it does. But like most small towns, the most interesting news never hits the paper." She pointed at the newspaper. "These types of newspapers you read before you go to sleep at night so you won't have anything on your mind." Mulder settled back in the uncomfortable wooden chair, hooking an arm over the back. "Sounds like the voice of experience." "I'm a small town girl. Cutter, Texas, population 5603 at last count." "So what are you doing in the Bureau?" he asked. "My uncle is the Deputy Bureau Chief for the Houston office," she shrugged. "I interned with him my senior year of high school and got addicted to it." Mulder's stomach growled and he glanced at his watch. "Let's get something to eat," he suggested, standing and slinging his suit jacket over his shoulder, tie stuffed in the pocket. Caitlin glanced down at her ruined dress and grimaced. "I think we need a shower first," she said wryly. She looked at him, impulsively reaching over and smoothing the smudge of newsprint from his nose. He caught her hand as she did so, the room suddenly electric with their proximity. He stepped closer, scant inches separating the warmth of their bodies. Caitlin could smell the spice of his aftershave as it mingled with the scent of dust and old books. Laughing slightly, nervously, she stepped away from him, breaking the connection. "Lunch is a good idea," she said, walking from the room. "Very good." Mulder watched her in thoughtful silence a moment before following. ***************************************************************************** To be continued... From math.ohio-state.edu!cs.utexas.edu!newshost.convex.com!newsgate.duke.edu!zombie.ncsc.mil!nntp.coast.net!news-res.gsl.net!news.gsl.net!hunter.premier.net!newsfeed.internetmci.com!news.ycc.yale.edu!yale!news-mail-gateway!daemon Tue Jul 16 10:05:14 1996 Article: 21407 of alt.tv.x-files.creative Path: math.ohio-state.edu!cs.utexas.edu!newshost.convex.com!newsgate.duke.edu!zombie.ncsc.mil!nntp.coast.net!news-res.gsl.net!news.gsl.net!hunter.premier.net!newsfeed.internetmci.com!news.ycc.yale.edu!yale!news-mail-gateway!daemon From: Gil Trevizo Newsgroups: alt.tv.x-files.creative Subject: Origins 3/? (fwd) Date: 15 Jul 1996 22:01:33 -0400 Organization: Yale CS Mail/News Gateway Lines: 235 Sender: daemon@cs.yale.edu Message-ID: <19960715220129.aaaa006JO@babyblue.cs.yale.edu> NNTP-Posting-Host: babyblue.cs.yale.edu Status: RO I DID NOT WRITE THIS - I am the administrator for the x-files-fanfic mailing list and am posting this story for a subscriber. For information on subscribing to the x-files-fanfic mailing list, go to . Please send all comments to the author at . xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx Please see part one for disclaimers, summary, etc. Rated PG for adult content (warning...implied sex ahead...) Origins 3/? By Linda Winfree Home of Sharon Adams Lesley, Georgia Wednesday 3:16 pm Mulder knocked on the door again and waited impatiently. He glanced at Caitlin. "I meant to tell you earler but I thought you handled Sheriff's Rutland's ,um, attitude very well." She grinned. "What did you expect me to do? Call him on it? I wouldn't be my father's daughter if I did." Mulder knocked a third time. "Your father's daughter?" Caitlin glanced away, an old grief in her eyes. "He was a diplomat with the State Department. He and my mother died fifteen years ago." "I'm sorry," Mulder said, feeling as though he'd hurt her in some way. She shrugged. "Don't worry. It was a long time ago. I was still a child." She glanced at the house. "Mulder, I don't think anyone's home." He sighed in frustration. "I guess not. But maybe someone is home at the Fitzgerald home." *************************************************************************** Home of Robert and Patricia Fitzgerald Lesley, Georgia Wednesday 3:47 pm Patricia Fitzgerald led them through to her keeping room kitchen with an offer of iced tea. "I don't know how I can help you," she said, setting the glasses of amber liquid on the table. Caitlin smiled at her. "Well, we're not sure either, but we'd like to talk to you about you daughter's disappearance." Mulder watched, entranced by how people opened up to this young woman. It was as if they were somehow drawn to her and compelled to be honest with her. "There isn't much to tell," Mrs. Fitzgerald said. "Lynn went for a walk and just never came home. Sheriff Rutland believes she was kidnapped." Her faded blue eyes filled with tears and memories. "It was just as sudden as the way she came to us." Caitlin glanced at Mulder to see if he had picked that up as well. "Came to you, Mrs. Fitzgerald?" The older woman sighed. "Yes. Robert and I were unable to have children of our own. Robert was coming home one night and found Lynn walking by the side of the road. She was around four then. All she could tell us was that she was lost and that her name was Lynn. We did everything we could to find her parents but we never could locate them. Finally Robert and I adopted her." "Where did your husband find her, Mrs. Fitzgerald?" Mulder asked. "Out on route 3, where Lynn disappeared." "Do you have a photo of your daughter?" Mulder asked. "AT the time she was found?" Mrs. Fitzgerald looked a little non-plussed at the request. "Of course. Just a moment, please." After she'd left the room, Caitlin looked at Mulder. "Why do you want a photo of Lynn Fitzgerald as a child?" He looked thoughtful, tapping his fingertips on the table. "Lynn Fitzgerald was found on the same road where Lynn Adams wandered off and disappeared. They have the same first name. Odd, isn't it?" Caitlin frowned. "Mulder, maybe Sharon Adams named her daughter for Lynn Fitzgerald. They were supposedly very close. Lots of people do it." Patricia Fitzgerald returned. She handed Mulder the photo of a pretty little girl with blonde curls. "You can keep this one if you like. Its a duplicate." They thanked the woman and returned to the car. In the car, Mulder pulled out the missing flier with Lynn Adams photo on it. He placed the photos side by side and handed them to Caitlin. "Oh my God," she whispered. The two little girls were identical. **************************************************************************** Newspaper Room Desoto Trail Library Lesley, Georgia Wednesday 8:53 pm Caitlin pushed her chair away from the table as Mulder returned, carrying a large stack of Xerox copies. "Are we done yet?" He smiled. "Here, yes. I made copies of the dates we still have to look at it. We can take them back to the hotel." She groaned. "I think my eyes are permanently crossed from reading this small print." Back at the hotel, they sprawled across the two beds in Mulder's room. "Are you going to tell me what we're looking for?" Caitlin asked. "It might help." Mulder turned over another sheet of paper. "Just anything out of the ordinary." "Well, that narrows it down," Caitlin sighed and he grinned. "Years ago, I read an account of a man who disappeared while walking across his front yard in Alabama in full view of his entire family. One minute he was there, the next he was gone. For weeks afterwards, they could hear his voice calling for help. There were people who theorized that he had stepped into another time dimension." Caitlin sat up, pushing her hair out of her eyes. "Cool," she said and laughed at his surprised expression. He obviously was not used to anyone accepting his ideas so readily. "And you think this is what happened to Lynn Adams?" "Its a possibility," he mused. "I wanted to see if maybe there were other disappearances in that same area. So far I've found two possible ones." Caitlin stretched, arms over her head. "You know, I had a college physics professor who believed that time actually existed on several different planes. It did not have a specific point of origin that continued forward." She shrugged. "It was his explanation for the Bermuda Triangle." Mulder looked intrigued. "So he thought that the planes and ships that vanished there were actually transported to another plane of time?" "Exactly. What you did yesterday isn't gone. Its still happening, just on a different level of time." "Sounds reasonable." "Somehow I knew you'd say that," she grinned. He jumped up to pace around the room, excited. "If that's possible, then Lynn Adams could be Lynn Fitzgerald!" She looked at him, confused. "You'll have to explain that one to me, Mulder." He knelt in front of where she sat on the edge of the bed. "What if its some type of time loop? Lynn Adams disappears at four years old in our present, reappears in our past and is adopted by the Fitzgeralds. She grows up and disappears as Lynn Fitzgerald at the age of nineteen." "And maybe reappears somewhere else?" Caitlin suggested, caught up in his excitement. "Exactly," he said softly, suddenly aware of how close he was to her. He moved closer, almost unconsciously and time seemed to freeze around them. She suddenly moved, standing. Caitlin laughed a little nervously, running a hand through her hair. "Well, I think I'll let you write the report." He grimaced. "Thanks a lot." "After all, you are the agent in charge." ***************************************************************************** Norton Motor Inn Atlanta, Georgia Friday 9:00 pm Caitlin gathered up the cards. "I can't believe you got us thrown out of Lesley." "I did not get us thrown out. Sheriff Rutland very nicely asked us to leave." "And called Hartley to back him up," Caitlin said wryly. "So they didn't believe my theory. I'm used to that," Mulder shrugged, much calmer than he had been when arguing with Rutland and their AD by phone. Definitely much calmer than he had been when their flight to Washington had been cancelled due to bad weather. Mulder looked at the pile of matchsticks on the bed in front of Caitlin. They sat crosslegged, playing poker. "I guess I'm out. You've got all my matches." Caitlin grinned, shuffling the deck. "So we'll raise the stakes. If I win, I get to call you Fox." "And if I win?" he asked. She smiled mischievously. "I'll let you see my tattoo." He leaned forward, interested. "You have a tattoo? Where?" Caitlin shook her head at him, dealing their cards. "Wouldn't you like to know." They played for several minutes, taking and discarding cards. Finally Caitlin called, laying out two pairs of eights. Mulder grinned slowly before laying down his own cards. A full house. "I win." *************************************************************************** Norton Motor Inn Atlanta, Georgia Friday 11:14 pm Mulder lay on his stomach next to Caitlin, a light sheen of perspiration cooling on his skin. His lips against her shoulder, he smiled contentedly. "I didn't see a tattoo, Agent Falconetti." Caitlin stretched, catlike. "So I lied, Agent Mulder." She rolled onto her side, so she could see his face. She ran a fingertip up his spine, watching him shudder under her touch. She leaned closer to his ear. "I also stacked the deck and let you win." She laughed at the surprised look on his face and he moved quickly, silencing her laughter with his kiss... *************************************************************************** To be continued... From math.ohio-state.edu!cs.utexas.edu!newshost.convex.com!newsgate.duke.edu!zombie.ncsc.mil!nntp.coast.net!news-res.gsl.net!news.gsl.net!hunter.premier.net!newsfeed.internetmci.com!news.ycc.yale.edu!yale!news-mail-gateway!daemon Tue Jul 16 10:05:12 1996 Article: 21405 of alt.tv.x-files.creative Path: math.ohio-state.edu!cs.utexas.edu!newshost.convex.com!newsgate.duke.edu!zombie.ncsc.mil!nntp.coast.net!news-res.gsl.net!news.gsl.net!hunter.premier.net!newsfeed.internetmci.com!news.ycc.yale.edu!yale!news-mail-gateway!daemon From: Gil Trevizo Newsgroups: alt.tv.x-files.creative Subject: Origins 4/? (fwd) Date: 15 Jul 1996 22:01:59 -0400 Organization: Yale CS Mail/News Gateway Lines: 151 Sender: daemon@cs.yale.edu Message-ID: <19960715220154.aaaa006KZ@babyblue.cs.yale.edu> NNTP-Posting-Host: babyblue.cs.yale.edu Status: RO I DID NOT WRITE THIS - I am the administrator for the x-files-fanfic mailing list and am posting this story for a subscriber. For information on subscribing to the x-files-fanfic mailing list, go to . Please send all comments to the author at . xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx Please see part one for disclaimers, summary, etc. Rated PG for adult content Okay, this is a self-contained story in its self...still pre-Scully. Just filling in Mulder and Caitlin's past... Origins 4/? By Linda Winfree Eight Months Later... Hoover Building Washington DC Monday 4:31 pm Caitlin glanced at Kelson across their desks and shrugged. "So life's not fair. I can put up with their bull if it keeps Ben Fuller the hell away from me." "You want Sheila to stay with you tonight? Mulder's still gone, right?' She grinned. "Please, he's gone more than he's here. And no, I can stay by myself. The last time I checked I was still over twenty-one." Kelson grimaced. "You know what I meant." "Yeah, I do. And I appreciate it," she smiled. Her smile died as Agent Jack Brinson appeared in the entrance to their cubicle. He was one of Fuller's closest friends and had become the worst thorn in Caitlin's side lately. "Happy, Falconetti?" he sneered. "You know, you got a really good agent suspended for no reason." Caitlin glanced down at the open file on her desk, ignoring him. Brinson leaned over her desk and Kelson tensed visibly. Caitlin flashed at look at him . "You're a real bitch, you know that Falconetti? What you did to Fuller when we all know you're screwing Mul-" Kelson's fist slammed into his jaw, cutting off his words. The two agents crashed against the cubicle wall, framed photos and the bulletin board crashing to the floor. The agents in the adjacent cubicles rushed to break the two men apart. Assistant Director William Hartley appeared, parting the people in the hallway like Moses parting the Red Sea. He glared at Caitlin, Kelson and Brinson. "My office. Now,' he snapped. **************************************************************************** Basement Hoover Building Washington, DC Monday 8:33 pm Mulder was disgusted, disgruntled and exhausted. He walked into his basement office, slumping into his chair, head thrown back. He covered his face with his hands. Another case, another X-File, where he had been thwarted at every turn. The proof he sought was out there, waiting. But someone didn't want him to find it. Sometimes it was just so damned discouraging... He sighed, glancing around at the chaos that was his office. He had the beginnings of a headache and his stomach growled unmercifully. Maybe he'd forget about these reports til in the morning, pick up some takeout food, go see Caitlin... Mulder glanced up, startled, as Jack Brinson walked into the office without knocking. The other agent was sporting a black eye and a split lip. Mulder disliked the man, almost as much as he disliked Ben Fuller. "Can I help you, Brinson," he asked. Brinson smirked at him. "Actually, Spooky, I'm here to help you..." ****************************************************************************** Apartment of Caitlin Falconetti Annapolis, Maryland Monday 9:11 pm Mulder stopped outside Caitlin's door, searching his keyring for the key she'd given him. He opened the door quietly, anger and betrayal burning low in his stomach. One lamp was on in the living room but the room was empty. He walked down the hall tot the bedroom, where another light burned. Caitlin, wearing shorts and a t-shirt, had fallen asleep on top of the bedcovers, three case files scattered on the bed around her. Her eyes opened sleepily as he entered the room. She sat up, glancing at the clock and rubbing a hand over her eyes sleepily. "Mulder? What are you doing here?" Mulder knelt on the bed beside her, lost in his anger. He gripped her arms, eyes blazing. "Did you sleep with Brinson?" She blinked at him, still foggy with sleep. "What the hell are you talking about?" His hands tightened and Mulder shook her slightly. "Did you?" She recoiled from him and the intensity of his anger. "I can't believe you're asking me this." He released her. "I trusted you," he shouted, pacing to the far side of the room. "Mulder...I didn't..." He glared at her, eyes intense. "I *trusted* you. And you..." He couldn't finish the sentence. he thought, anguish tearing at him. She was getting mad. "I didn't *do* anything," she said, eyes narrowing. Mulder had the odd sensation that she'd read his thoughts. "Who is she, Fox? Who's sins am I paying for?" The question and her own intensity rattled him. "I can't handle this," he said, running a hand through his hair. "I'll call you..." "Don't bother," she said, turning away, hiding her tear-filled eyes from his angry, confused gaze. Silently, he left, the door closing behind him with a note of finality. Caitlin sank back to the bed, hands shaking. She stretched out, pulling one of the pillows close, trembling. Distantly, she heard the front door open again and she closed her eyes, one tear escaping and trickling down the side of her face. Footsteps came down the hall softly. She refused to turn over and face him. "Go away, Mulder," she said, voice muffled against the pillow she clung to. The bed dipped as he knelt behind her and the scent of aftershave enveloped her. Caitlin stiffened, feeling the first prickle of alarm. Mulder didn't wear Polo. Never. He hated it. "It isn't Mulder, Caitlin," said Ben Fuller's voice as the cloth came over her face, the chloroform forcing her into a terrified darkness... **************************************************************************** To be continued... From math.ohio-state.edu!usc!newshub.csu.net!newshub.sdsu.edu!newsfeeder.sdsu.edu!news.iag.net!news.math.psu.edu!news.cse.psu.edu!uwm.edu!vixen.cso.uiuc.edu!newsfeed.internetmci.com!news.ycc.yale.edu!yale!news-mail-gateway!daemon Tue Jul 16 21:02:04 1996 Article: 21460 of alt.tv.x-files.creative Path: math.ohio-state.edu!usc!newshub.csu.net!newshub.sdsu.edu!newsfeeder.sdsu.edu!news.iag.net!news.math.psu.edu!news.cse.psu.edu!uwm.edu!vixen.cso.uiuc.edu!newsfeed.internetmci.com!news.ycc.yale.edu!yale!news-mail-gateway!daemon From: Gil Trevizo Newsgroups: alt.tv.x-files.creative Subject: Origins 5/5 (fwd) Date: 16 Jul 1996 18:10:46 -0400 Organization: Yale CS Mail/News Gateway Lines: 307 Sender: daemon@cs.yale.edu Message-ID: <19960716181042.aaaa002Q_@babyblue.cs.yale.edu> NNTP-Posting-Host: babyblue.cs.yale.edu Status: RO I DID NOT WRITE THIS - I am the administrator for the x-files-fanfic mailing list and am posting this story for a subscriber. For information on subscribing to the x-files-fanfic mailing list, go to . Please send all comments to the author at . xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx Please see part one for disclaimer, summary, etc... Origins 5/5 By Linda Winfree Basement Hoover Building Washington, DC Tuesday 10:13 am Mulder listened as Caitlin's phone rang over and over, unanswered. Finally he replaced the receiver. Obviously Caitlin wasn't going to answer it and her machine wasn't picking up. He glanced at the clock. It was after ten and she still wasn't in the office. He'd checked with security four times already. Something was wrong. She was usually here before nine, closer to eight-thirty. Even after last night, especially after last night...if she was angry she would be upstairs, working off her anger. Instincts screaming, he grabbed his suit jacket, ignoring the reports that remained unwritten on his desk. ***************************************************************************** Apartment of Caitlin Falconetti Annapolis, MD Tuesday 11:05 am Her car was still parked in its spot outside her ground floor apartment. Mulder was searching for his key when he noticed that he front door was just barely ajar. He reached for his gun, quietly pushing the door open. The living room was just as he'd left it, the single lamp still burning. Afraid of what he'd find there, he crept down the hallway. Like the living room, the bedroom was just as he'd left it except that Caitlin was gone and the papers from her case files were scattered across the bed and onto the floor. Panic and fear clawing at his throat, he reached for his cellular phone. ******* Caitlin's apartment literally swarmed with police officers and agents from the FBI. A detective from the Annapolis police department leaned against the counter in the kitchen, asking Mulder the same questions over and over again. "Tell me again what happened last night, Agent Mulder. You and Agent Falconetti argued. You were angry with her. Then what happened?" The insinuation was plain. "I told you already," Mulder growled, sitting at the table, staring at the fine grain of the pine tabletop. "I left." Outside, a car door slammed. An officer yelled, "Sir, you can't go in there!" "Stop me," replied a deep, cold voice, laced with menace. From the living room the voice came again. "Where is he?" The detective and Mulder looked up as a tall man with black hair and stormy green eyes burst into the kitchen, long legs encased in faded blue denim, a navy polo shirt stretching across corded muscular arms. Before the detective could react, the newcomer had slammed Mulder into the wall. "You son of a bitch," he whispered, eyes inches away from Mulder's, "what did you do?" Kelson Ransome appeared at his side, blue eyes wary. Using the same tone of voice he'd used on skittish horses all his life, he appealed to him. "C'mon, Vince, back off." The cold green eyes never wavered from Mulder's hazel gaze. "Go away, Kelly," he said, voice still deadly quiet, firm. "This is between Agent Mulder and me." "Sir..." the detective began nervously, moving towards them. Vince didn't even glance in his direction. "If you touch me, I'll break your arm." "Vince," Kelson pleaded. "This really isn't helping." Vince Falconetti slowly released his grip on Mulder, stepping back a couple of paces. He glanced at the detective. "I'm her brother. What do you have?" The detective cleared his throat nervously. "Agent Falconetti failed to appear for work this morning. Agent Mulder tells us that they argued last night but that she was fine when he left." "Yeah, right," Vince said, crossing his arms over his chest, his cold glance touching on Mulder again. "Vince, we have no evidence of foul play," Kelson said placatingly. Vince only looked at him. "Yeah, Kelly, she just went out for a gallon of milk," he scoffed. "Mr. Falconetti, we are checking with all of her friends..." "With her car here? Were you all born yesterday?" Vince asked, echoing Mulder's own frustration. Mulder looked at the police detective. "Am I under arrest?" The detective frowned. "No. Just be available in case we have any further questions." Silently, Mulder strode out of the apartment, heading for his car. He sensed that Vince Falconetti was on his heels. "Where are you going?" Vince called after him. "To find Ben Fuller," Mulder replied, voice hard. He looked at Vince, surprised, when Vince slid into the passenger seat. Vince saw the look and smiled grimly. "What? My sister's missing and you think I'm going to let you out of my sight?" **************************************************************************** Apartment of Benjamin Fuller Washington DC Tuesday 12:46 pm There was no answer when they rang the bell at Fuller's apartment. No vehicle was parked in the spot allocated to him. As Mulder went to check with the complex manager, Vince punched in a number on his cellular phone. After two rings, the line was picked up. A male voice said, "Yes?" Vince glanced around the parking lot. "Alex? Its Vince." "Where the hell are you? We had an assignment, remember? I waited for over an hour," Alex Krycek sounded highly annoyed. "Its personal," Vince answered. "I'm not coming back for a few days. You're a big boy, you can handle it," he told the younger man. "Listen, I need a dossier on a Benjamin Fuller." "Everything?" Krycek asked. "Everything," Vince concurred. "Especially any property holdings he may have. And send it to my place, okay? Secured e-mail." "You got it," Krycek answered. Vince could tell he was dying of curiosity. Well, he'd just have to die. Vince turned off the phone just as Mulder returned to the car, face grim. "Fuller left last night. No one's seen him since." **************************************************************************** Apartment of Vince Falconetti Washington, DC Tuesday 1:31 pm Vince returned to the car, sliding into the passenger seat and handing Mulder a sheaf of papers. Mulder glanced through them, amazed at the extensive information on Ben Fuller. He glanced at Mulder. "Where did you get all this?" Vince laughed shortly. "I have friends in low places." There was only one property holding on the list, a small tract containing a cabin in the Osceola Forest area in North Florida. ***************************************************************************** Osceola National Forest South of Lake City, Florida Wednesday 10:21 pm It was so dark. The slim sliver of moon kept sliding behind the wispy clouds. Mulder watched as the other agents moved through the underbrush, flashlights bobbing eerily among the trees. What they had found at Fuller's cabin had made his blood run cold. The walls of his bedroom had been literally plastered with photos. Photos of Caitlin, some with Mulder. His face had been mutilated. Fox Mulder was seldom afraid of anything. The obsession he had seen in those photos scared him witless. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Vince Falconetti momentarily illuminated by someone's flashlight. He shuddered at the almost demonic rage he saw burning in Vince's eyes. Out of the night, he heard Caitlin scream his name. Turning in the direction of the scream, he burst through the woods into a small clearing and saw Caitlin run toward him, Fuller on her heels. Horrified, he saw that she wasn't going to make it to him in time. Fuller grabbed her from behind, and a sudden shaft of weak moonlight glinted off the knife pressed to her throat. Mere yards separated them as the shifting clouds covered the moon again. "Its over, Fuller," he said hoarsely. "Let her go." Fuller glared at him, hatred icing his gaze. "It'll never be over...she's mine!" Mulder saw the knife move and squeezed the trigger on his drawn gun. Fuller fell away from Caitlin in a slow, dream-like fashion. Mulder ran to her as she dropped to her knees. He knelt in front of her, pulling at the ropes that bound her wrists. He met her gaze and recoiled from the haunted horror that still dwelt in her green eyes. His fault... She pulled away from him, running towards Fuller's body. He stood, crying out after her... "Caitlin, stop! He's dead! He can't hurt you now..." ***************************************************************************** Lake City General Hospital Lake City, Florida Wednesday 1:04 am Caitlin glanced up as Vince entered the emergency room cubicle. The doctor had gone, and she was slipping into the clean jeans and shirt that Vince had found for her. He hugged her, tightly. "Mulder's here," he whispered. Caitlin pulled away from him. "I don't want to see him." Vince looked at her closely, trying to read her eyes. "Cait..." She looked at him ferociously, voice tight with anger. "I said I didn't want to see him. There's nothing to say." Vince leaned against the sink. "You'll have to see him sooner or later when you go back to Washington." She very carefully avoided his eyes. "I'm not going back." "What?" Vince was stunned. Her life had revolved around becoming a Bureau agent since she was sixteen. "Cait, are you burning you bridges?" "Well, that's the thing, Vince. Its kind of hard to burn a bridge that was never there in the first place, isn't it?" Her face tightened. "I'm going home, Vince. And I just want all of you to leave me alone." Vince met Mulder in the hallway. He spread his hands helplessly. "She doesn't want to see you." Mulder's jaw tightened. "Well, she's damn well going to." Caitlin was standing at the window when he entered without knocking. She didn't turn but stiffened almost imperceptibly. Mulder came up behind her, reaching for her shoulders. "Don't...touch...me," she said between gritted teeth, enunciating each word carefully. Mulder winced at the cold, indifferent fury in her voice. He wondered how much was directed at him and how much at Fuller. "Caitlin." "Don't, Mulder," she said, still not looking at him. "There's nothing to say." "Isn't there?" he asked. She finally turned to him, green eyes snapping with temper. "Nothing you want to hear, Mulder. Just let it go." Mulder ran a hand through his hair. "Its not that easy, Cait. I can't just let it go. I have to tell you..." "Stop it!" she shouted. "Just stop it," she said more calmly. She pulled up the sleeve of her t-shirt so he could see the purplish yellow bruises on her upper arms. "These aren't Fuller's, Mulder. They're yours." His eyes were stricken, pained. "Oh, God." She closed her eyes. "I just need some time..." Hurting, frustrated, he pulled her into his arms, ignoring the way that she stiffened against him. He held her a moment, before letting her go. "Cait, I never meant to hurt you..." They both knew he didn't mean the bruises. "But you did, Mulder, you did." *************************************************************************** Basement Hoover Building Washington, DC Friday 9:01 am Mulder stood in the door to his office, studying the chaos. He sighed, putting his guilt and pain away, and picked up the topmost red-tabbed file labeled X-139522370. Settling into his chair, he began to read... **************************************************************************** The end.