Title: "Skeletons" Author: Fox's Gal Category: Story, Humor Rating: G (If you can believe it!) Summary: Someone's got some skeletons in her closet. Spoilers: "The Host," "Bad Blood," "Schizogeny," and "Tithonus." As long as you know about the infamous background checks, you'll be good. Feedback: foxs_gal@hotmail.com Disclaimer: As if... Note: The desk calendar mentioned in this story does, in fact, exist. A very good friend of mine told me about the entry that I eventually used here. I then asked for the subsequent entries, so that I could use them too. It is actually called "'1999 Unexplained Phenomena" and I got it for this friend as a Christmas gift. Just in case you're wondering where I got all that useless knowledge. *~*~*~*~*~* "Skeletons" By Fox's Gal *~*~*~*~*~* March 25, 1999 (Thursday) 7:50 AM Hoover Building Basement Office An amused chuckle came from the corner. She opted to ignore it, preferring to think he had finally lost his mind and was spiraling downward into a place where the utmost humor was found in the simple things. Like air particles. "Hey Scully..." Again, she tried to ignore him. Make him think she hadn't heard him. Mulder knew this. He knew it all too well. He was almost tempted to let this go. No matter how humorous it might have been. Nah... Mulder regarded his partner amusedly. "Let me guess. You're hoping that if you ignore me, I'll go away?" "Hope is a wonderful thing, Mulder." Her inflection did not change. She continued typing at her laptop, pausing occasionally to glance at her handwritten notes. "Be that as it may, you should know better by now." He paused and glanced down at his desk, chuckling again. "Hey, uh...you know that desk calendar of mine?" She looked up briefly. "'1999 Unexplained Phenomena?'" "That would be the one." "Yeah. What about it? Did you come across a mention of a Flukeman? Trailer park vampires? Carnivorous hazelnut trees?" "No, no, and no. Actually...uh...I came across a rather familiar name." He placed slight emphasis on the word "name." "Hmm? Oh really?" Her tone was one of only slight interest. Her fingers had resumed their rhythmic tapping. "Whose?" He paused for a moment. "Yours." The tapping stopped. "Excuse me?" He smiled. He now had her complete, undivided attention. "Yours. Your name." "My name." It was a statement rather than a question. "Well, your last name. Listen to this," he cleared his throat before reading from the calendar. "'March 25: According to Frank Scully's best selling 'Behind the Flying Saucers' (1950), a Venusian spacecraft crash-landed on a rocky planet near Aztec, New Mexico, on this day in 1948. Government investigators recovered the bodies of 16 beings clad in the style of 1890. The craft "probably flew on magnetic lines of force," Scully claimed. In 1952, True magazine exposed Scully's sources as two con artists who conjured up the tale as part of an elaborate oil scam.'" He looked up at her, no longer fighting his smile. "A relative of yours?" Scully's face was a strange mixture of disbelief, horror and extreme embarrassment. Her cheeks were stained and she was biting absently on her upper lip. "Did you say *Frank* Scully?" "I did indeed." "Oh." "Something you're not telling me, Agent Scully?" "No, of course not." The tapping resumed. He leaned back in his chair, a ghost of a smile playing on his lips. "Of course not." * * * March 26th, 1999 (Friday) 7: 35 AM Hoover Building Basement Office "Mulder? How long have you been here?" Scully was sitting at his desk, holding the phone to her ear. She had been trying to phone him at home when he walked into the office, several thick files under his arm. "What?" He looked around briefly, as if he were unsure that she was talking to him. "Oh...I've been here since about quarter till." "You've been here since 6:45." "Uh huh." As if this was normal. There was a silence as she watched him begin to flip through the aged folders. "Why?" Her voice yanked him out of his reverie, away from what he had been concentrating on. "What? Why, what?" She looked at him, furrowing her eyebrows slightly. "Why were you here at a quarter to seven in the morning?" He swallowed once. "Just checking up on some old files. Archive work. I just woke up early this morning, so I figured I'd come in and take care of it. Housecleaning stuff...you know?" She nodded absently, looking at his calendar. "Hey Mulder, listen to this: March 26th-- 'On this day in 1997, two San Diego County sheriff's deputies, investigating a report of a mass suicide, found the bodies of 39 identically dressed, androgynous-appearing men and women in a suburban mansion. Authorities learned that these were members of a saucer cult called "Heaven's Gate," which promised eternal life aboard a spacecraft once earthly "vehicles" (bodies) were shed. Cult founder Marshall Herf Applewhite, a former music teacher, was among the dead.' That was two years ago. Doesn't seem it, does it?" "Two years, huh?" He was still flipping through the folder. "Mulder, what are you doing?" "Background check," he muttered. "A background... What?" Her eyebrow was creeping up and she made no effort to stop its gravity-defying ascent. "Mulder...I hate to tell you this...but..." Suddenly, he snapped the folder shut, a smile on his features. "What was that, Scully?" Her eyes narrowed slightly, scrutinizing him. "Nothing, Mulder." * * * March 27/28 (Saturday/Sunday) As they relaxed along the seaside in the West African nation of Togo on March 28th, 1974, a couple sighted an approaching cylindrical UFO just above the water. It stopped when it got within 500 feet, and a tidal wave washed over the two. Wave after wave followed, as the UFO directed light beams on the witnesses. The waters underneath it were parted in a deep trough. After 20 minutes, the UFO departed, and the sea was calm once more. * * * March 29th, 1999 (Monday) 8:09 AM Hoover Building Basement Office She walked in, the Starbuck's cup warm in her hand. "Oversleep, Agent Scully?" She felt, rather than saw, his satisfied smirk. "Oh, you're a fine one to talk," she riposted. "Hey Scully, listen to this, 'March 29th-- You may have heard of a meteorite known as AH840001 that is believed to be from Mars and which contains what looks like fossilized bacteria. Is this proof of life on Mars? Maybe not. A major argument against it is that the "fossils" are much smaller than similar earthly bacteria, and thus may be a mineralogical formation. But could they still be evidence for Martian life? Maybe so. Similarly sized "nanobacteria" have recently been discovered on Earth in such abundance that their discoverer claims they may make up "most of the Earth's biomass." The debate continues.'" He looked up at her, grinning. "Kinda like us, huh?" "Which part? Life on Mars?" She barely hid her teasing grin. "Ever-continuing debate," he said, wryly. "Mmm. That too." Scully was busying herself with setting up her laptop, not paying much attention to her partner. "What'd you do this weekend?" He shrugged. "Spent most of it in the FBI Archive Library." Scully cocked her head slightly and turned her attention from the booting-up laptop. "Mulder, what's up? You spent your entire weekend wallowing around in the archives? Last time you did that, you were looking for Fellig. What are you not telling me?" "Get the lights, Scully." She heaved a sigh. "This could mean one of two things, Mulder. Either you've found six more 900 pound Holsteins completely drained of blood, or..." "Or...?" He was smiling widely. She flipped the lightswitch. "I shudder to think." He got up from his seat and stood by the humming slide machine. "Hand me the clicker, Scully." "The what?" She looked around, puzzled. "The clicker. It's right next to you." She looked down and saw the small console with the button and cord. "You mean the slide advancer?" She picked up the device and handed it to him. Mulder took it, muttering, "Po-tay-to, po-tah-to..." Scully leaned against his desk, amused. "Please, by all means continue." He advanced to the first in the series of slides. It was black and white, and very fuzzy. There appeared to be a blurry white spot in an area of the photo that might, or might not, have been the sky. "This," he began dramatically, "is a photo that was taken near--" "Mulder." "Yes?" "What the hell is that?" She pointed to the screen. "What?" "*That!*" "That? Oh, that's a UFO." "Mulder..." her voice had taken on a warning tone. "Scully, you gonna let me finish, or what?" She pinched the bridge of her nose. "Mulder, do I need to tell you that simply by the sheer age of this photo that it can't possibly--" "Scully, don't interrupt. It's rude." She closed her eyes. "Please...forgive me. By all means, continue." "Thank you. Now, as I was saying... This photo was taken in New Mexico approximately 50 years ago. There have been strange occurrences surrounding the nature of this particular photo. Disappearances, missing paperwork, and an intricate thread of lies." Against her better judgement, she was drawn into his narrative. "How so?" The room was darkened, and she could not see his smug smile. "Well," he advanced to the next slide. It was a newer photo, but the scene appeared to be similar. It was a photo of the horizon, bumpy mountains and scrub brush in the distance. Again, there was a similar blurry white spot in the sky. "I located this photo and the other one in the archive library over the weekend. The locales are identical. The photographers, however, are not. The first photographer was this man." Again, he advanced to the next slide. A nondescript man who appeared to be in his mid to late 20's appeared on the screen. "This is Craig Rochlovski. A doctorate student from MIT, he was vacationing in New Mexico and took this photograph. A week later, he disappeared. He was found three weeks later in the woods, stripped naked and severely drugged." "Didn't happen to be spring break, did it?" Mulder shot her a look. "Jeez, sorry." Her mouth transformed from a mirthful smile to a more serious, more Scullylike flatline. "Which brings us to this woman." He advanced to the next slide. A young woman, perhaps in her early 20's appeared on the screen. She was fairly unremarkable, save her hair, which was a pale blonde, and fell to her waist. "This is Bethany Phreizter. She was the one who located Mr. Rochlovski during a mountain hike. She alerted the authorities via cell phone. Rochlovski was brought to a hospital, and Ms. Phreizter was not seen again. There is no record of the 911 call that she placed from her cellular phone, nor are there any hospital records from Mr. Rochlovski's stay." "Sounds like someone's doing a damn fine job of covering his tracks." Mulder murmured agreement. His finger rested on the button that would advance to the next slide when Scully's voice interrupted his thoughts. "Mulder?" "Hmm?" "Where does the 'intricate thread of lies' come in?" "Right about now." He advanced to the next slide. "Mulder!" "Yes?" "That's me!" "Which brings us to this woman. One Special Agent Dana Katherine Scully, MD. Agent Scully has done the most in the campaign of misinformation revolving around the mystery surrounding the first photograph...and its photographer." He advanced to the next slide. "This is Frank Scully, author of 'Behind the Flying Saucers'...and your own great uncle. You'd be amazed to hear the hard time I had linking Mr. Scully to you." He looked over his shoulder and regarded her. "Then again, maybe you wouldn't be so amazed. It would seem to me, Agent Scully, that you do a fine job of covering your tracks...so to speak." He dropped the slide advancer and strode to the lightswitch, illuminating the office. Scully leaned against his desk, her arms over her chest, a slightly sheepish look on her face. "So, what do you have to say for yourself?" "What do I have to say for myself? You were the one sifting through the archival equivalent of my dirty laundry. A blatant misuse of Bureau references. What do you have to say for yourself?" He smirked at her. "Dirty laundry? Hardly. I was merely utilizing the skills I picked up while working for AD Kersh." "You would have had to have shown up for work first." "Touche." He walked around her and took his own seat. Idly, he picked up the letter opener on his desk and began fidgeting with it in silence. He suddenly dropped the opener in frustration. "Dammit, Scully! Why didn't you tell me that you had-" "A relative who was a part of an apparently notable UFO hoax?" "But it's so cool! And so un-Scullylike." "And I think you just answered your own question." She paused. "So who *were* those people? Craig Rochlovski and Bethany Phreizter?" "Oh, Craig is a cousin of mine and Bethany is his fiancee," he said waving his hand dismissively. There was another, more pressing topic he wanted to approach. "But Scully, why didn't you TELL me?" She turned around and faced her partner, leaning across the desk as she did so. "Why didn't I tell you that I was directly related to a charlatan? Do you need to ask that?" "Well...yes." "Because Mulder, there are some things that even I just won't do to satisfy you." "And you draw the line at this?" His eyebrows were lifted slightly. "Yes. That, sir, is exactly where I draw the line." "Right there." "You betcha." "No further." "Not a whit." "Not an inch?" "Not one inch." He leaned back in his chair, lacing his fingers behind his head as he did so. A wicked glint gleamed in his eyes. "So tell me, Agent Scully, on which side of this magical, mystical line are the handcuffs and chocolate syrup located?" He paused, gauging her reaction. "Since we're talking about satisfying me and all." He barely ducked out of the way as the stapler whizzed past his head, slamming viciously into the wall behind him. "Oh, it's on *that* side of the line, huh?"