From: "LiErin Probasco" Date: Wed, 07 Apr 1999 20:45:12 PDT Subject: Temporary Insanity Hi, all! This is my first post, so forgive me this intro. Let's see? Story: Temporary Insanity Author: p0tat0bug (that's me!) Date Submitted: April 07, 1999 Catergory: H (I thought so) M/S UST (a little) Other/Other UST/R Just basically a story. Rating: PG for mild language Spoilers: The ep that aired March 28th, with the werewolves (don't know the name) Teeny tiny one for "Jose Chung's 'From Outer Space'" Summary: A day in the life of a temp (Walter Skinner's secretary is sick.) What does an outsider think of moose and squirrel? (Not to mention Skinner, Krycek, and CSM, oh my!) Disclaimer: I do not own Mulder, Scully, Skinner or any of the characters in this story except Karen. She's all mine, but I don't know where she came from. Those who do own them (CC, 1012, Fox, etc.) will never read this story, but if you do, I'm just borrowing them. I won't leave marks, I promise. I get no $$$$ for this!!! Oh yeah, I mention Mel Gibson and Conspiracy Theory, same message for whoever owns that. Here's my soap box: all of us are, in part, owners of the X-Files legacy. Without fans, the show would not go on. Thank you. FEED BACK will be greatly appreciated. I can respond to each and every one, because I have no life. FEED ME! (Flame me too if you want, I can take the criticism.) e-mail: p0tat0bug@hotmail.com (those 0's are zeros!!) HERE GOES? Temporary Insanity By p0tat0bug J Edgar Hoover Building 6:43 am Karen Cooper squared her shoulders and cleared her throat. The sound echoed through the empty parking garage, and she flushed in embarrassment. A strong sense of foreboding washed over her, almost warning her away. She had the ridiculous urge to run back to her car and floor it, to get home. She gave herself a shake, straightened her jacket, smoothed her hair behind her ears and stepped into the unknown. An hour later... It wasn't the metal detectors or the dour men in black everywhere. It wasn't even the disconcerting fact that everyone she passed was packing heat. It was when the Assistant Director walked in that she realized what the sinking feeling had been telling her: Be. Afraid. This man was not in a good mood. He glanced at her with a cold look that seemed to say she was just one more problem for him on this worst of all days. Intimidated as hell, but always the consummate professional, Karen swallowed hard and stood, offering both her hand and an apologetic smile. "Hi, I'm Karen Cooper. Your secretary's sick... I'm the temp?" she thought, in her experience with frustrated executives, however, that option wasn't completely out of the question. Luckily, he didn't seem to notice the question in her voice or the hitch in her breath. "Assistant Director Skinner, Miss Cooper. I trust you've done this before?" At her nod, he continued, "Well, I'm swimming in paperwork today, so no phone calls. Take messages, schedule appointments for anytime starting next week, and leave me alone unless it's someone from higher up. And cancel my 10 o'clock meeting with Agents Mulder and Scully. I'll get back to them about it. Got all that?" "Yes, sir. No problem." The AD gave her a brusque once-over. Evidently, he decided she'd do. He was halfway through the door to his office when he turned to her again. "Can I get a coffee? Black, one sugar. And Miss Cooper? When you call down, ask for Agent Scully." With that intriguing comment, the door closed and Karen set out to locate a coffee machine. 8:16 a.m. She found the coffee and delivered it flawlessly. Well, in an efficient manner taking into account her total unfamiliarity with the building's layout. He was very polite when she delivered the coffee, even managed a tight smile as he sifted through the sea of papers that had already overwhelmed his desk. She giggled at the thought. That thought elicited another giggle. The ringing phone interrupted her daydreaming, and the next few minutes were a flurry of coordinating the schedules of two very busy men to squeeze in a half-hour meeting. A cleansing breath later, she dialed the extension for Agent Scully. "Mulder." A male voice answered the phone. As a person who was constantly on the phone with strangers, Karen prided herself on her ability to read the emotions behind voices. It had become a hobby, and she quickly noted that the voice was intentionally neutral, hesitant. "Hello, Mr. Mulder, may I speak to Agent Scully please?" Immediate reaction. "Who is this?" Suspicious, proprietary. Karen thought with amusement. "This is Karen Cooper," she purred in professional tones, "I'm filling in for Assistant Director Skinner's secretary today. Is Agent Scully available at this time?" "No." Slightly more relaxed. Even slightly intrigued. "What does he want?" "Well, I'm calling to let you know that the meeting scheduled for ten this morning will have to be rescheduled." "Uh-huh." "And is there a message?" Very circumspect. "No message. Just an insurmountable conflict." "Insurmountable?" Definitely relief. "Well, I'll pass the message on to Agent Scully. Thank you, Miss Cooper." Click. Karen thought. He was so ... paranoid. She shuddered a little, wondering what kind of job made a person that frazzled. She tried to keep busy, taking care of a few phone calls and penciling in meetings with various agents, but she kept replaying the conversation with Agent Mulder in her head. It certainly wasn't out of the ordinary. Nothing revealing or personal was said. But coupled with the AD's warning, it intrigued her. She just had to meet this guy. 10:42 a.m. He was tall, dark and dreamy. Mysterious and dangerous looking, even in a suit. He sidled into Skinner's office with a catlike grace, his eyes hooded. She couldn't be sure, but he seemed startled to see her. "May I help you, sir?" she asked, feigning disinterest as she stared intently at the computer screen that, moments before, had displayed a very poorly played game of solitaire. He glanced sidelong at the closed office door, then smiled at her. "Yeah, I'm here to see Skinner. Buzz me in?" His lazy, flirty smile barely registered as she lost herself in his intense gaze. Not one to let silly things like hormones get in her way, () she calmly met his stare. "I'm sorry, Mr. Skinner is very busy right now. If you'll leave your name, he'll get back to you." "Who are you?" he asked. "It's not important that you know this, but I'm the temp. The AD's assistant is sick today." There was just something about this guy that raised her hackles. she rationalized. His stare intensified, if that was possible, as he leaned across the desk, invading her personal space. "What is your name?" he demanded, emphasizing each word carefully. He was trying to stare her down, but there was no way she would let him. Skinner had scared her because he was her boss (for the day) and had looked so mean and angry. He turned out to be a nice guy, just definitely the "in charge" type. Karen smirked. she thought, staring at the angry but undeniably good looking figure before her, "My name is Karen Cooper, sir," she returned sarcastically, "Now, would you like to leave your name?" "No." He cocked his head, attempting to frighten her. "I want to see Skinner." "I'm sorry," she repeated, rising to match his gaze at almost- eye level, "but that is not possible. If you'd give me a name or number, I could have the AD contact you." He leaned even closer, standing practically nose to nose with her. He was deadly quiet. "You have no idea who you're dealing with. I need to talk to the AD. I have information that he will want to be aware of, and if you value your job, not to mention your life, you will let me in that room, Miss Cooper." He paused for effect. " Now." Her pulse pounded in her ears and her mind raced. Considering her options quickly, she almost laughed at the obvious answer. Not backing away or even flinching, she raised her voice. "Do you have some sort of identification? As you must know, security is a major concern of--" Her words were cut short when the AD himself exited his office. Skinner stopped short at the sight that met him. His new secretary, the temp, was actually yelling at Alex Krycek. He had just barely saved the woman from an unimaginably grisly fate. "What do you want?" he glowered at Krycek, examining as he would a squashed bug. Krycek didn't seem to notice. "We've got to talk." he replied, matching Skinner stare for stare. Karen was suddenly very aware of the small size of the room. "Get in there." Skinner ordered. "I'm going to the restroom. You'll wait." It was not a question. His eyes darted toward Karen, then returned to Krycek's face. "Let it go," he insisted, his eyes pleading. "It's in the job description." The younger man gave a slight shrug, neither confirming nor denying that he would comply with the AD's request. Karen was confused. She wasn't sure, but she had the distinct impression they were talking about her. Skinner seemed to want to protect her from the other man. She studied him carefully as he slowly stepped backward, the tension in his back and shoulders easing. He waved an arm with a flourish, ushering Skinner out the door. Seeming satisfied with this response, the AD headed toward the hall, and the mysterious young man faced Karen once more. "Miss Cooper," he began, slowly looking her up and down, "It's been a pleasure." He leaned over the desk once more and whispered in a low tone, "I'll be seeing you later." He almost laughed as her pupils dilated and she swallowed, hard. He sauntered into the office, the door swinging closed behind him. Karen immediately sank into her chair, letting out a long breath she was unknowingly holding. Her hands began to shake uncontrollably, but not because she was afraid. She knew that last comment was meant to be menacing. Instead, it had elicited the completely irrational hope that she would see the man again, despite the animosity radiating from him. she acknowledged. It wasn't the implied threat that shook her. It was the entire event. The tension and anxiety, the life or death attitudes, the naked aggression flashing in the men's eyes. When Skinner returned, he eyed her nervously. "Did he threaten you?" he barked. "Not directly, sir. Nothing I can't handle," she replied, trying to sound as confident as she thought she felt. "You don't know this guy," Skinner replied. His voice was distant, and his eyes were sad, remembering a past pain. "He's ruthless. Be careful," he begged. She nodded thoughtfully. As he opened the office door, she blurted, "Excuse me, sir, but what's his name?" The AD looked at her with a mixture of surprise and suspicion. She quickly continued, "Because, you know, well, um, if I have to tell someone you're in a meeting, they might need to..." her voice and stamina petered out under the heavy scrutiny of the AD. "Krycek." he spat out. "His name is Alex Krycek. But you don't know that. I'm not in a meeting, and we're not having this conversation, is that clear?" "Crystal." she affirmed. A very disturbed Skinner returned to his office, while a very disturbed Karen was left to work out his meaning. 11:21 a.m. The last twenty-five minutes had been torture. There were no phone calls, no visitors. Nothing distracted her from that ominous office door. The men inside were still locked in heated conversation; only occasionally did their hushed voices rise to an audible level. When the door suddenly opened, her heart jumped into her throat and her hands froze in the middle of their ineffectual tour of the computer keyboard. Krycek slumped casually against the doorjamb. Skinner loomed over him with a stormy expression, looking for all the world like a school principal disciplining a cocky delinquent. "Don't you ever pull this crap again," Skinner fumed. "If you feel the need to contact me in the office, follow the proper channels and deal with the consequences. Otherwise, stick to the alleyways and shadows you seem to love so much." Krycek sneered up at Skinner. "I came to you today to provide you with information about your two favorite agents, information that could mean the survival of the Project. Now, we could stand here and argue about my methods, but that might make me disinclined to provide you with the truth you so desperately want in the future." His eyes were flat obsidian; Karen couldn't read any emotion in them, not even the malice she had seen earlier. She shuddered deeply. Skinner seemed to be affected by Krycek's gaze as well, or perhaps it was his words. The AD's shoulders slumped in defeat; his body sagged. His clenched fists were the only sign of the extreme frustration he felt. Krycek confidently swept past Skinner, staring hard at Karen as he walked past her. She met his gaze, then very obviously looked him up and down, evaluating his appearance. Once again, her response to his suave confidence was very positive. Krycek smirked and swaggered out the door. Karen glanced at Skinner and immediately became concerned. The strong man of that morning was gone. The man she saw now looked ... broken. And very tired. "Miss Cooper," he began. His voice was a quiet mixture of exhaustion and resignation. Karen thought. "Please phone Agents Mulder and Scully. Ask them to be in my office at 1 p.m." 12:13 p.m. Karen sighed as she plopped her tray onto the table. Lunchtime was the worst part of being a temp. She usually packed a lunch to avoid cafeterias completely. But that morning she slept through the alarm which had been set for the ungodly hour of 5 a.m. and had no time to pack a lunch. Knowing she arrived at work on time was no comfort when she sat alone at a table in the crowded cafeteria, a tray of some unidentifiable substance before her. She sighed again, picked up her fork and idly pushed her food from left to right as she watched other people enjoying their lunches. Friends sat together, exchanging stories and telling jokes. Colleagues good- naturedly argued with one another, some waving charts and files in the air for emphasis. Still others were huddled intensely in pairs, poring over photos and papers as they tried desperately to solve a crime or mystery. Karen got only a brief glance at one of those photos before deciding to mind her own business. She shifted her attention to a couple sitting nearby as she bravely lifted the fork to her mouth. A tall, slender man overwhelmed the small table. His handsome face was almost expressionless, but he was leaning over the table, speaking intensely to the pretty redhead seated across from him. Karen thought, On closer examination, however, Karen changed her mind. The woman's posture was anything but romantically inclined. Arms crossed firmly against her chest, she leaned back slightly. Her face was the picture of incredulity, from her slightly pursed mouth to the single eyebrow raised in disbelief. The man picked up one of the many papers littering the table and slid it across the tabletop. Whatever the woman had said to the man had hurt him. He pulled away slightly, and although it didn't show on his face, his body language became defensive. He also raised his voice, which was why Karen overheard his next comment. "Scully, it's been documented for centuries. The legends originated in the Orient: China, India. Stories of seven-foot tall tiger men known as the Rakshasa, animal in intelligence but ruthless predators. The claw marks here..." Karen couldn't listen longer without bursting into laughter. She rose and made her way to the table. The look on the redhead's face indicated she was going to let her partner harangue her with nonsense. Well, for womankind, not to mention her own amusement, Karen had to set the record straight. Reaching the table, she saw the woman take a deep breath. "Mulder?" Karen realized these two were the mysterious agents Skinner and Krycek argued about. The man with the zany theory was the paranoid man she'd talked to on the phone. "Excuse me, sir." He turned abruptly, startled and irritated at the interruption. Scully shifted her focus as well, the same incredulous expression on her face. "I'm sorry," Karen continued, smiling, "I couldn't help but overhear, and I thought you should know..." He raised his eyebrows as if to say "Yes? And what can you contribute to this conversation?" "Well, the Rakshasa are actually very intelligent, like normal humans. Many of them wear clothing and live in houses, although not in heavily populated areas as you might imagine." Their reactions were priceless. Scully, obviously the skeptic, continued to exude her "I can't believe this" attitude, glancing at Mulder to gauge his response. Karen also sensed other emotions, annoyance and even a touch of jealousy. Mulder's full attention was on her. He was definitely excited but attempted to be subtle about his interest. "I'm Agent Mulder, this is Agent Scully. It's very nice to meet you Ms...." "Cooper, Karen Cooper." A puzzled look crossed Mulder's face. Then sudden enlightenment. "Oh, yeah, Skinner's temp." She nodded, although it wasn't a question. Mulder searched for then gestured toward an empty chair at an adjacent table. "Would you like to sit down? Do you mind answering a few questions?" Karen shook her head no, repressing a smirk as she pulled the chair over and sat. "Ms. Cooper," Mulder began, leaning forward expectantly, "What do you know about the Rakshasa?" Out of the corner of her eye, Karen caught a glimpse of Scully's doubtful expression. Karen gave Mulder her best "enraptured" look, batted her eyes, bent across the table toward him and spoke in a confiding hush, "Well," she breathed, "I've done extensive research on human-animal hybrids, Mr. Mulder. You might call it a hobby of mine..." She licked her lips thoughtfully and was about to continue when Scully interrupted. "You mean lycanthropy?" Scully gave Mulder a strange look, almost an "I told you so." Mulder glanced back at her sheepishly, and even flushed a little. Karen had no idea why these two FBI agents had been talking about imaginary monsters or were interested in werewolves, but she would never pass up an opportunity to put a cocky person in his place, and this Mulder was asking for it. "Well, in general. But I do know quite a bit about the Rakshasa in particular. It seems they prefer to live in sparsely populated areas, specifically on the Deccan Peninsula, south of the Himalayas. They have a very well-established social order, reflective of feudal Europe but obviously influenced by the Hindu caste systems...." Mulder's eyes sparkled with growing excitement. His body language was relaxed and in control; he exuded confidence. Karen didn't know him, but she could picture him saying: See, Scully? They're not a figment of my imagination." Scully, on the other hand, remained skeptical. Karen gloated. "Forgive me for interrupting you, Miss Cooper," Scully said in a very professional and stand-offish tone, "but where did you get this information?" Her words were clipped; her tone brusque, almost catty and the tiniest bit shrewish. "I'm so glad you asked, Miss Scully," Karen grinned, "You see, my brother was absolutely addicted to fantasy and role-playing games growing up. I picked up a lot of lingo after a couple years of Dungeons and Dragons." She almost held it in. Almost. Scully's reaction was priceless. A tiny smile, barely perceptible. An obvious struggle to control herself that resulted in a very unladylike snort. But Mulder--Mulder was too much for her. His eyes went blank and his jaw slackened as he shifted his gaze between the two not-quite-poker-faced women. "But... but..." It was the second "but," its bewildered tone, the disbelief, that cracked her. She burst into giggles. "Mr. Mulder, there is no such thing as a Rakshasa. How could you...I mean, the very thought is ridiculous..." Scully sat quietly, composing herself. Then, with a wicked grin, she said, "Mulder, I think I've found my new best friend." 12:47 p.m. "...And then Mulder proceeded to eat an entire rhubarb pie while asking his usually litany of alien abduction questions..." Scully was clearly enjoying herself, filling Karen in on some of the less bizarre cases she and Mulder had investigated. "Scully," Mulder scolded, "That's only what Jose Chung wrote... it didn't really happen that way." "Oh yeah?" she countered, "Well, then, what did happen?" Mulder slumped miserably and sighed, "I don't remember." "Oh, right." Scully said sarcastically. "Yes, now that you mention it, I vaguely recall your suffering from a bout of, shall we say, selective amnesia? Which would explain why you still don't remember how you mysteriously ended up in my room..." Scully trailed off, blushing furiously. Mulder avoided her gaze, and Karen tried to keep perfectly still, hoping they wouldn't remember her presence and end this fascinating thread of conversation. Karen sighed, wishing she could have such a great relationship with some dark, handsome man, maybe one who exuded raw animal magnetism and who would probably look great in a leather jacket. Unfortunately, her sigh reminded Mulder of her presence, and she had to drag her mind away from dark eyes and a menacing smirk to the present. "I'm sorry, what did you say?" "I asked whether or not you knew why Skinner needed to see us this afternoon. I know you're just the temp, but maybe he gave you some sort of clue." His voice was concerned, nervous. She could tell he was dying to know if he was in trouble but was trying to hide his curiosity. "Well, like you said, Mulder, I'm the temp." "Yeah, but did he say anything? Was he in a bad mood? What happened right before he told you to call us?" Mulder was on the verge of whining. He shifted tactics. Lowering his tone to just a rumble above seductive, he wheedled, "Come on, Karen, what did he say? You must remember something." Karen was definitely impressed by his persuasive ability, but there was no way she would fall for it with Scully's death ray stare pinned fully on her. "No, Mr. Mulder," she responded, switching back to a professional, distant tone, "I can't tell you. Whatever Mr. Skinner wants to tell you will be evident in about fifteen minutes." "Oh, come on," Mulder grinned, jutting out his lower lip and making the sexiest sad puppy face Karen had ever seen. Karen gulped and took a shallow breath. "Look, I don't know. And besides that, it's none of my business. My job is to take dictation and schedule appointments. Anything beyond that and I keep my mouth shut, okay?" Karen realized Mulder had paid no attention to her. He suddenly gripped the edge of the table with such force his knuckles turned white; his entire frame went rigid with aggression, his eyes flashing with anger. It was then she felt a presence looming behind her and a hand on the back of her chair. "Agents Scully, Mulder." The deep, sexy voice growled an acknowledgment of their presence. Karen's heart lurched as she glanced up to meet Krycek's stare, which was once again pinned her menacingly. "Miss Cooper, it's a pleasure to see you again, although I can't say I appreciate the company you're keeping..." Karen felt raw anger boiling between the two men and was frightened. Mulder was rising, reaching toward Krycek, when Scully's hand shot out, grasping his own. "Mulder, we have a meeting in fifteen minutes." She spoke softly and soothingly, as if calming a frightened animal. "Let's go." After what seemed an eternity, Mulder backed away and slowly turned toward the exit. Krycek taunted his retreating form. "Skinner's waiting, and he's not happy. Seems like earlier this morning someone informed him of certain recent developments. He was furious. If you don't believe me, ask Karen here; she saw the whole thing." Mulder's head had whipped around. He looked like a deer caught in the headlights, scared and without a prayer. Then he gave Karen a sad, betrayed glance, one Krycek understood perfectly. He lazily slipped an arm over Karen's shoulders, and Mulder's wounded look shifted to one of confusion and scorn. He turned and followed Scully out of the cafeteria. Instantly, Karen whirled to face Krycek, raising her voice as she scolded him, "Why did you do that? Can't you see that you hurt him? And you insulted me! You made it look like I was plotting against them when I've never seen them before!" Krycek glared back at her. "Look, you don't know that guy. He's dangerous. He's got all these insane theories about aliens and government conspiracies, and he drags his partner all over the country chasing after little gray men and ghosts." Karen reasoned, "Okay, but crazy theories don't make people dangerous, I mean, look at Mel Gibson in Conspiracy Theory." Krycek gave her an indecipherable look. "It figures. You're all alike. One look at a cute guy and you'll believe everything he says." Dark eyes flashed with anger, "Look, just stay away from him. He's not a nice person. He's tried to kill me. A number of times." Karen studied him carefully, trying to decide if she should believe him. His face was contorted in remembered pain. She decided he was telling the truth, although probably a half-truth. Still, that meant Mulder wasn't as nice a guy as she thought. Krycek looked into her eyes again, and she took advantage of that opportunity to whisper, "Oh, Mr. Mulder isn't my type. I prefer them shorter, darker... scarier. But it's true what you said; I enjoy trusting attractive men. I'll avoid Mr. Mulder from now on." She turned away slowly, returning to her table and clearing it off, not daring to look up again until Krycek stopped staring. It was a very long time. 1:09 p.m. When she returned to Skinner office, Mulder and Scully were waiting outside, seated directly across from Karen's desk. Scully's hand was resting on Mulder's knee in a gesture of comfort, but as Karen entered, the two jumped, as if caught in an intimate embrace. She sat quietly behind the desk. Once she made an effort to speak, but the accusing glare of Mulder silenced her. She tried to appear busy by filling out requisition forms. When the door opened and Skinner called the two agents into his office, Karen took a deep breath and sighed with relief. She finally felt her muscles relax and her hypersensitive nerves calm. Calm for two minutes before angry voices exploded into her hearing. She only caught bits and pieces of the actual conversation, but she could tell it was unpleasant. "...Wild allegations..." "...Sir, it's never been an issue..." "Do you have proof to corroborate..." in a masculine voice, followed immediately by the response, "IS there proof I should be aware of?" Karen shivered. This was the most tense, stressed-out place she had ever worked, and that included the law firm she temped for two days before a big trial. There, she had been answering phones, making copies and running around all day. She might not be so busy at the FBI, but the pressure was even greater, and the uncomfortability factor tripled. She had always loved fast- paced, adventurous jobs. She thought that moving to DC would be thrilling and give her independence. she thought sardonically. Graduating magna cum laude from community college didn't impress prospective employers as she had hoped. But she held onto her adventurous nature by reading mystery and spy novels in her spare time and planning safaris to Africa and explorations in Antarctica that she would never make. And requesting jobs at the Pentagon and the FBI. At 1:27, the door flew open with a vengeance. A fierce, stone-faced figure and a short whirlwind seething with barely contained rage stormed out the door and down the hallway. Karen could scarcely resist the urge to crawl under the desk and hide until 5:00 came around. 3:45 p.m. Glancing at the clock, Karen realized two hours had passed without incident. She was ready to breathe a sigh of relief when a peculiar smell caught her attention. Thought too soon, Karen inwardly groaned. A tall older man entered the office clutching a cigarette. Smoke was blown in her face as he asked to see Skinner. "Sir, I'm sorry, but this is a non-smoking building. Please put out your cigarette. And I'm sorry again, but Mr. Skinner is busy this afternoon. It would be more convenient to schedule an appointment and meet with him tomorrow, better yet, next week." The man eyed her seriously for a moment, and Karen wondered if everyone at the FBI took a course called "How to Intimidate with One Glance." "I will see Skinner today." he replied laconically, without showing the slightest inclination toward putting out his cigarette. Karen was ready to reply, but something about the man stopped her. His voice held neither the urgency nor the passion of a man like Krycek or Mulder, but she sensed that he always got what he wanted in the end. Not about to cross him, she knocked gently on the door to Skinner's office. At his rough grunt, she peeked in her head. "Sir, there's a man here to see you." He looked up, slightly annoyed. "He's smoking, sir. Should I make him leave?" At the word smoking, Skinner's entire frame went stiff. The reaction was even stronger than his surprise at seeing Krycek. "No," he replied, struggling for control. "Send him in." "Yes, sir," she replied. She eased the door shut and turned back to the smoking man. She stooped down, picking up the trash can near the desk and holding it out pointedly. "He'll see you right away, sir." The man gazed steadily at her, playing the grown-up version of a staring contest. Karen only flinched on the inside. The man made some kind of internal decision, took one long last drag and dropped his half-smoked cigarette into the basket. He opened the door, and Karen glimpsed a manila envelope tucked under his arm. It had a red stamp marked "Photos--do not bend." As the door whispered shut behind him, she heard his gravely voice. "You wanted proof, Mr. Skinner...." 4:35 p.m. Undisclosed Location Rivulets of smoke. The red glow of a Morley. The rasp of lowering blinds. "So, the message has been delivered." "Executed flawlessly. And you saw the result." "Yes." A pause. "Flawlessly?" "Well." Another pause. "The secretary. What happened?" "She was sick." "Not that one." The flare of a match illuminated a craggy visage, and a swarthy one. "Oh, her. Just a little...tension. Actually, I meant to mention that. She seems to be exactly what we wanted." Another pause. A stream of smoke and an exhaled breath. "How so?" "She's strong but quiet. She wouldn't let me see Skinner, despite my... persuasion." A chuckle. "Agent Mulder has always been your superior in that regard. You must learn to harness your rage, to tame it to your will. Make it productive." "Be that as it may, she stood up to me. And she didn't cave to Mulder's particular brand of persuasion either. He inquired after Skinner's meeting." "Skilled, strong and subtle. New to the area with no remaining family..." "When did you..." "I was also impressed." Another silence. "What do you think?" "Approach her." The red glow was crushed, but smoke continued to dance in the streams of light seeping through the blinds. 5:13 p.m. Parking garage. J Edgar Hoover Building. The hand on her shoulder came from nowhere. Ghosts and ghouls and things that go bump in the night flashed through Karen's frazzled brain; her nerves were strung so taught she actually considered such extreme possibilities. When she turned, her fear dissolved into annoyance mingled with pleasure, and her heart pounded for an entirely different reason. "May I help you, Mr. Krycek?" His sexy slouch was forced, more of a pose. Taken aback because she knew his name, his posture changed subtlety into a predatory stance that was more natural to him and more appealing to her. His arm casually reached back to his pants pocket, the motion fluid and dragged out. Karen's nerves, already spent, kicked into high gear again. Her imagination produced a sleek black revolver, complete with silencer. When he flicked out a small white business card, offering it to her between two fingers, she sank against her car in relief. The day had been too much; she couldn't play along anymore. "Something wrong?" Krycek's concern was marred by his amused and superior tone. He won that showdown. She shook her head "no," so he continued. "This is a job offer. Full time, permanent position. No résumés, no interviews. Unusual hours, but the pay's very decent. Call that number and the job is yours. Some very important people and very impressed." Unsure how to respond, Karen opted to display mild interest. "Okay. I'll look into it." Krycek turned and began to saunter away. Karen toyed absently with the card as she admired his retreat. Glancing down, she saw a series of numbers scrawled across the back. "Alex?" she called. He swung back to face her, swallowing a grin. "What's this?" "Oh." he said. And for five long seconds that was all. Then-- "That's my beeper number." The slightest emphasis on "my." YES!! "Oh. Doesn't that interfere with your work?" "Oh no," he grinned, "I've got it on vibrate." Leaving that pleasant image in her mind, he vanished into the shadows. Karen fumbled with her keys for a moment, took a cleansing breath and unlocked her car, business card tucked securely in her purse. 7:42 p.m. She lay back with a luxurious sigh, steam and bubbles floating around her head. From the moment she stepped into the office she knew the day was going to be anything but ordinary. she glanced toward the business card she had lain casually on the corner of the sink. < Oh, like a business card in a bathroom is there by coincidence.> < Yes, I think I'll be handing in my resignation very shortly.> She drifted to sleep, obsidian eyes and a sarcastic grin heralding very sweet dreams. The End. Loved it? Hated it? Want more? Want me to go away forever? Tell me! p0tat0bug@hotmail.com