From: "beduini" <beduini@earthlink.net>
Date: Wed, 6 Oct 1999 15:51:32 -0700
Subject: NEW:  "Party" (1/1)

Party (1/1)
 By Beduini

RATING:  PG for some colorful language

CATEGORY:  V, M/S UST, MSR

SPOILERS:  None

ARCHIVE:  Ask me.

DISCLAIMER:  I'm borrowing these characters without permission but my
purpose is non-profit.  I wrote this for me.

SUMMARY:  Someone is watching...

AUTHOR'S NOTE:  So far, I haven't written any stories from an 'other'
point of view, so here's my attempt at it.  Who knew I had these
voyeuristic tendencies?

I'm flying without a beta here, so I apologize for any little
discrepancies I may have missed.

X*X*X*X*X

It was a spur of the moment celebration, initiated by Agent Robbins
and embraced quickly by everyone as the word spread.  Agent Cook
volunteered his apartment in Georgetown, and although it was a small
one-bedroom unit, the living area and kitchen were packed full of the
FBI's finest.

Fourteen years had been invested in the apprehension of Luiz
Martinez, and I'd been part of the case since the beginning.  There
had been several near-misses and a few dead ends, but tonight the
leader of the Estoban drug cartel was in custody, along with twenty
of his closest friends and associates.  Thanks to the precedent set
by O.J. Simpson the day he decided to take a drive with a gun to his
head in his white Bronco, the news media was all over it.  CNN had
been on hand almost from the beginning, telecasting the entire bust
as it went down.  National networks had tapped into the coverage and
pre-empted their programming, making it the top story across the
country.

The Bureau had received an anonymous tip that Martinez was in
Virginia.  Special Agent Fox "Spooky" Mulder was the one who figured
out where Martinez had set up his distribution center, and true to
Spooky's profile from six years ago, the controlling Martinez had
been there, overseeing the entire operation.

There was an exchange of gunfire, but only one casualty on our side -
Special Agent Julia Johnson had been hit in the thigh by one of
Martinez's men.  The bullet had nicked an artery, and although
Johnson was undergoing a long and complicated surgery, she was
expected to make a full recovery.

Officially, the Bureau credited all of the men and women of the FBI
who had helped bring Martinez into custody.  Unofficially, Spooky was
the man of the hour for his insight into Martinez's behavior, and was
receiving most of the credit from his fellow Agents.  Spooky lived up
to his nickname on this one, nailing Martinez's profile with amazing
accuracy.

The party was in full swing by nine p.m., Cook's apartment filled to
capacity and every available seat taken.  Upon arrival Spooky had
been steered into a slipcovered club chair in front of the window
just across from me in the living room, where he sat nursing a beer
and waiting.

Waiting for Scully, no doubt.

He hadn't wanted to come to the party alone.  I was checking in my
gear alongside him and Scully when the subject came up.  Scully was
going to the hospital to check on Johnson's progress, and she
encouraged Spooky to go on to the party and enjoy himself, promising
to meet up with him later.  She'd phoned once since I've been here,
letting him know that Johnson was just coming out of surgery, and
that the prognosis was good.

"Just get over here, Scully."  He'd told her.  "Everyone is asking
for you - I think my presence alone makes them nervous."

That had been over an hour ago.

He'd had several pats on the back, and a few variations of 'way to
go, Spooky' tossed his way - along with an equal amount of 'where's
your partner?' queries.  He possesses a sharp wit and can bullshit
with the best of them when he wants to...when forced to.  I've always
suspected that Spooky deferred the social niceties to his partner so
that he could focus on the work.  I mean, the guy can hone in on
something like a panther, and she allows him to do just that.  Still,
I know that Oxford education of his had to have come with a little
social interaction.

Sure enough, Agent Larsen spent almost half an hour chatting him up
about the promise of the upcoming basketball season, with a few
deliberate inquiries about the whereabouts of his partner thrown in.
Then a couple of women, administrative staff, I think, had flirted
mildly with him.  They guy can definitely charm the ladies.
Adulation was a powerful aphrodisiac, but they knew, as we all do,
that although his partner might not be in the room with him, her
presence was very much felt.

Spooky seemed to be enjoying himself to a degree, and his reputation
with his peers has improved in the past couple of years, but having
been the butt of more than one joke amongst his indiscriminate
coworkers, it was clear he couldn't completely relax until Scully
arrived.  I can't blame him, having been there myself.  Truth be
told, though, if I were out in the field Spooky is one of the first
agents I'd want covering my back, with Scully a close second or
third.  But in the office things were different.  Scully was the one
who bridged the gap, the qualifying factor, the one who fluidly
connected him with the rest of us.

Cook was almost out of beer and I was elected to make the run down to
the convenience store to pick up some more.  Working hard day in and
day out has its rewards, as well as its stresses, and most of the
Federal employees at Agent Cook's party were pleasantly inebriated by
the time I returned.  Scully was standing at the door just as I
walked up, and I slid into the crowded apartment behind her carrying
two twelve-packs of Beck's and a bottle of tequila.  Amidst the
deafening chaos someone shoved a mixed cola drink in her hand before
she could get her coat off, and Agent Robbins gave her a pat on the
back, slurring, "Hey, Doc" on his way to the bathroom.  She gave him
a polite, tight-lipped smile, and taking a sip of the drink, scanned
the room.

Looking for Spooky, no doubt.

From the look on her face, it was the worst drink she'd ever tasted,
but she drank it anyway.  A couple of people inquired about Agent
Johnson, and as she gave them the updated prognosis another drink was
handed to her, this one fresh.  Taking a long sip, she excused
herself and moved on, her eyes still scanning the room.

Being small of stature must have its disadvantages, and maneuvering
through the crowded apartment no matter what your size was no easy
task.  Shoulders and elbows had to be avoided, especially when the
bodies they belonged to had had one or two too many.  Finally, she
did what any quick thinking intelligent individual would do - she put
her drink down on the nearest flat surface, pulled her cel phone out
and called him, listening for the direction of the answering ring.

It was somewhere ahead and to the left, but he answered before she
could get her bearings in the swampy, humid room.

"Where are you?"  She asked, placing a finger over her other ear,
having to shout above the noise of the crowd.  She looked up as she
listened, her eyes scanning the line of the ceiling and her finger
still covering her ear.  "I think I'm halfway between the front door
and the kitchen."

I could have taken her to him, but just then Agent Larsen appeared,
gently pushing her forward.  She glanced up over her shoulder to see
Larsen grin down at her.  "Your partner is this way.  Keep moving
forward."  Good thing she didn't see the lascivious look on his face
when she turned back around.

She didn't have time to protest before she was being shepherded
through the crowd, Agent Larsen's hands on her shoulders.  "I'm on my
way, Mulder..." she said into the phone, stopping short to avoid a
run-in with an undulating glass of Scotch.  I was right behind them,
hoping my seat hadn't been taken but knowing without a doubt it
already had.

"Sorry."  The owner of the Scotch muttered, stumbling off to the
right.  Directly in front of her, Mulder sat in the armchair,
disconnecting his phone.

Sure enough, my seat had been taken.  My coffee mug was still sitting
on the end table, but now there was a cigarette butt floating on the
top.  I just hovered out of the way near the window.

Agent Larsen felt it was his duty to deliver Scully directly at
Mulder's feet, and he pushed forward until she nearly fell in his
lap.  Mulder reached out and grabbed her wrist, placing his other
hand at her waist as Larsen beamed at him.  "Found what you were
looking for, Mulder."

"Thanks."  Mulder said, as Scully looked over her shoulder at Larsen
with a raised eyebrow and a polite expression.  She's got a redhead's
temper for sure, but she held it in check admirably.

"You want a drink, Scully?"  Larsen asked, probably feeling
responsible for her now that he'd delivered her safely to her
partner.  Either that, or he was trying to earn points with her.
Stupid S.O.B.

I've tried talking to her a couple of times.  Sure, I'm married, but
I'm not dead, you know?  I didn't want anything, except to see if I
could get her to smile.  She's pretty damn cute when she smiles.
She's pretty damn cute, anyway, but she's got a smile to melt a
snowman's heart, if you know what I mean.  So what's the harm in a
little smiling?

To my surprise, she accepted Larsen's offer, probably to get rid of
him.  "Uh...yeah.  That would be great."  She said with another
courteous grimace.  It certainly wasn't that adorable smile that she
hides away.  Maybe she saves it for Spooky.  There's been some talk,
and I can't deny that they're close, but I don't think they're
involved that way.  I've been with my wife for eight years and I can
recognize the signs.

Larsen moved off into the sea of people and Scully was suddenly being
pushed forward again as the crowd surged.  Spooky's hand on her waist
held her steady.  No, they're not intimate.  He's very careful when
he touches her.  Courteous.  A gentleman through and through - must
be that Oxford education.

They exchanged a look of misery over the uncontrollable crowd, and
Spooky tugged at her wrist, patting the arm of the chair.  "Hop up
here, Scully.  You'll be farther from the direct line of fire."

She turned a little to the side to sit on the chair's arm, one foot
still on the ground and her hip pressing into his side.  A surge of
the crowd from the left pushed her into him, so she propped her arm
against the pack of the chair and leaned against him for added
support.  From this position, she was just above eye level with him,
and no longer able to touch the ground.

"How's Johnson?"  He asked, leaning toward her so he wouldn't have to
shout.

"She's doing well."  She replied, turning to speak closer to his ear.
"She'll be in ICU overnight, but they expect to move her into a
private room in the morning."

His eyes ran over her quickly, not hiding the fact he was doing it.
They're not intimate but there's something between them, you can feel
it.  "When did you have time to change?"  He asked softly.

Somebody turned up the stereo and she leaned closer to him.  "What
was that?"  She asked.

"You changed."  He said louder, pointing at her clothing.  She was no
longer wearing her business suit from earlier, but a pair of black
cotton lycra pants, fashionble black boots and a black button-up
sweater underneath a dark green suede jacket.  Expensive stuff.  I
know, my wife has the same taste.

"I went home first."  She replied.  "I decided it would be easier to
walk the two blocks from my place than to try to find parking on the
street."

They were silent for a while, watching the crowd as I was, sharing a
look of amusement from time to time.  The crowd was in and of itself
a wild beast, throbbing and pulsing, pushing at its boundaries.  It
would surge, bringing arms, legs and torsos into direct contact with
the furniture and others like myself who tried to stay well out of
its way, and then retreat, like waves upon sand.  Suddenly, as if
emerging from the sea, Agent Larsen returned with two red plastic
tumbler-size cups, handing one to Scully.

"Agent Cook is whipping up some amazing things in the blender."
Larsen shouted, holding his cup up like a toast.  "Great work today.
Both of you."

Spooky tipped his beer and Scully her cup, both taking a sip before
offering their thanks to Larsen for the compliment.  Another surge
from the crowd pushed Scully over the edge of the chair's arm and
onto Spooky's lap, and Larsen's drink was knocked against the front
of his shirt, a few stray drops splattering Spooky's face.

"Jesus!"  Larsen gasped, wiping at the huge slushy wet spot on his
chest.  "Animals!"  He said, looking over his shoulder at the
offending crowd.  He was asking for it, if you ask me.

Scully pulled herself out of Spooky's lap with his assistance.  "I
haven't seen a party so out of control since college and the cops had
come out to calm things down."  She commented.

"They wouldn't be much help here - these people ARE law enforcement."
Spooky replied with a grin, wrapping his arm around her waist to
offer her additional support as she settled back into place, her arm
laid across the back of the chair, brushing against his shoulders.
He may be a gentleman, but he was enjoying it.  She crossed her legs
and seemed to gain more leverage as a result.

Larsen muttered something about finding a towel and slid off into the
crowd just as the lights flickered.  "What are we doing here,
Mulder?"  Scully asked, turning her face to his.  She reached out and
brushed away a few little specks of ice clinging to his cheeks, just
like it was the most natural thing in the world.  Even I knew it was
more than that.

"Playing nice with others."  He replied, grinning up at her.  For
just a second I caught that smile of hers, her eyes lighting up
playfully.  It passed far too quickly.  Her cheeks were flushed pink
and her eyes glittered - she was enjoying herself.  As good as he is
at what he does, Spooky isn't one for accepting praise, but Scully
deserves more credit for her work than what little she's received
over the past six years.  She's a damn good agent.

Spooky's face was serious.  "Not much chance of something like this
happening over an X File, huh, Scully?"  He asked.

"Oh, I don't know.  What we do is important, but it's not something
that we can share with the public."  She paused, considering
something.  "I don't know that I'd want to if we could."

Spooky looked like she'd just slapped him.  He looked up at her but I
couldn't see the look she gave him because her hair fell in front of
her face.  Whatever it was completely turned him around.  She ran one
hand over the back of his head, through his hair, and he grinned back
at her like the village idiot.  Can't say as I blame him there.

Someone in the crowd yelled, "Time for the news!" and the television
was turned up to full volume and the lights were turned off.  The
television reporter started relating the bust of the Estoban drug
cartel as the evening's top story.

From where they were seated, I don't think either Spooky or Scully
could see the television screen, but as the reporter mentioned the
fourteen-year investigation by the FBI and a new lead which lead to
Martinez's arrest a male voice bellowed "Spook!" and a few others
chimed in with howls.

Scully looked down at Spooky warmly, her eyes shining in the near
darkness.  As their eyes met she smiled, telling him silently how
proud she was of him.  It was a full-blown, better-than-Christmas-
morning smile and he smiled back at her gratefully.  They continued
to smile at each other, neither looking away as they would if they
knew I was watching.  Her cupid's bow mouth was temptingly close to
his as his eyes flitted between hers and her soft lips.  Her breath
mingled with his in soft puffs and it seemed like the most natural
thing in the world for him to lean in the short distance and press
his lips to hers.

He didn't, of course.  Surrounded by an inebriated crowd of Agents
and Federal employees was not the place to kiss your partner,
especially when it's your first kiss.  It didn't look like it would
be long before they went at it, though.  Then the lights came back on
and they just squinted at each other in the brightness of the 60-watt
bulbs.

"Let's get out of here."  Mulder said, and she nodded, allowing him
to slide out of the chair first.  He helped her to her feet, took her
firmly by the hand and led her through the crowd, no one but me the
wiser when they slipped out the door.

Well, that was it for me.  My personal entertainment was over and I
needed to get home to my loving wife and my second lease on life,
hopefully in time to kiss my daughter goodnight.  I glanced out the
window at the street below and saw Spooky and Scully emerge from the
building, stepping on to the street with their hands still locked
together.  Scully raised her chin with a smile, a gentle breeze
blowing her hair away from her face.  Stopping in the middle of the
sidewalk, she looked up at Spooky, squeezing his hand.  I could tell
that this was more their style, the two of them alone together on the
outside.  They were welcome within, but they chose this instead, with
the whole world in front of them whichever direction they decided to
turn.  Spooky watched her, trying to read her expression.  His face
was a combination of relief and curiosity as he turned to face her,
and she smiled before rising up on tiptoe, sliding her arms up around
his neck and pressing her lips to his.  He was tentative as his hands
came up to her back to hold her gently, and after a moment she pulled
back and stood flat-footed, looking up into his face with amusement.

His eyes were wide with surprise and his mouth was slightly open.
"Wh...?" his lips formed a word, but he was unable to finish the
thought as he looked at her.

She grinned at him, tightening her hold around his neck.  His lips
curved up with a smile and he pulled her against him tighter.  He
leaned in and in a move that would make any red-blooded male proud,
deftly captured her mouth with his.

I felt a bit like a voyeur watching them this way, so I moved away
from the window and edged my way to the door.  I had the sudden urge
to go home and kiss my wife.

When I stepped out onto the street, they were still locked at the
lips.  Doing a pretty thorough job of it, from what I could see.
They pulled apart and his chest heaved as he looked into her eyes,
his own eyes dark and pleading.  It was a look I'd seen plenty of
times in the mirror - the look of a man barely hanging on to his last
shred of control.  She looked pretty shaken up as well.  They might
not be speaking, but they were exposing some heady emotions and he
was leaving it up to her, however she wanted to proceed from this
point.  A gentleman to the end.

I'm surprised that they caught sight of me, or anything else in the
world around them, for that matter.  They pulled apart nervously,
Scully turning to wipe her mouth delicately with her fingers.  I just
threw them a smile and waved, trying to seem disinterested.  "Some
party."  I said, for lack of anything better.

They both smiled, and I finally caught a glimpse of the brilliant
Scully smile aimed in my direction.  Spooky's mouth looked like it'd
been worked over pretty good and I got the feeling that he wouldn't
be needing his self-control much longer.  I grinned back and started
off down the street, feeling my own little glow.  Spooky's voice
stopped me.

"Hey, Kennedy!"

I turned, the grin still plastered on my face.  "Yeah?"

"You need someone to drive you?"

He's alright, that Fox Mulder.  A beautiful woman in his arms and
he's offering to be my designated driver.  "Naw.  Coming up on
fifteen years clean and sober.  Unless you count the caffeine buzz
I've got from Robbins' coffee."

Mulder just nodded, and Scully gave me another gift.  This time, I
knew that smile was just for me.  The warmth of it flowed through me
like the finest Scotch, and carried me the rest of the way home.

Fin

Beduini@geocities.com
http://www.geocities.com/Area51/Starship/9769/Main.html