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In the Moment by dtg Note: Missing scene fic for Monday, probably my favorite episode. Rating is PG. Basement office
Three rings. Four. Her heart was racing by the time he picked up in the middle of ring number five. "Yeah." He sounded fine-- sleepy, but fine. Relief left her shaky and irritated with herself. "Mulder, it's me." Rustling sounds and the squeak of leather told her he was on the couch. "I'm late again, aren't I, Scully?" She consciously leveled her voice. "No, not yet, but Skinner wants to see us in his office as soon as possible. He's asking for our report on the robbery yesterday." A door opened and closed, and she guessed he must be getting the morning paper. Crinkling newsprint in the background a moment later confirmed it. "I'll be there in an hour." "I'd like to hear it, too." She'd thought of little else since it had happened, and the more she examined the sequence of events, the less sense it all made. "Well, you were there, Scully." "That's not what I mean. You still won't explain what happened yesterday-- how you knew that Bernard Oates was strapped with explosives." That was one question. She had many. "Call it a feeling." He voice sounded far away. Flat. "And it was also a feeling that he had an accomplice waiting in the car?" And that you knew his name? The newspaper rustled again, and his voice flattened even further. "I don't think she was an accomplice. I think she was just trying to get away." The vague disquiet she'd been tamping down all morning now had a focus. "Are you okay?" "I'll be there in an hour." He clicked the phone off before she could respond. Scully sat listening to the dial tone for a long moment. Mulder's mystifying silence had been puzzling last night. That he still couldn't bring himself to talk to her about something that-- to him, at least-- had to be an x file had her internal alarms jangling in unison. She looked over at the cluttered surface of his desk. He'd sat there yesterday afternoon for hours, intent on something he was writing. Sketching, really. She'd tried to catch a glimpse of the paper he was working on, but each time she'd approached, Mulder had turned it over. She walked over to his desk and began sorting through the untidy stacks. Almost immediately, she found a sheet of legal paper tucked under the front edge of the desk blotter. At first it looked to be nothing more than one of his phone doodles-- random scribbles that kept his hands busy while he listened intently to the nutcase du jour. But Bernard Oates' name at the bottom left and "Craddock" scrawled across the top told her this was what she'd been looking for. A fat arrow circling in on itself occupied the center of the page, its borders traced over so many times that the paper was indented. At its center was the number '51', also deeply imprinted with multiple strokes. Next to Bernard Oates' name was a dollar sign, and a smaller arrow led from there to the right hand corner of the page, ending in another circle drawn with dozens of smaller circles nested one inside the other. It had the randomness of a doodle, but-- "Please tell me there's coffee left." Mulder's voice coming from directly in front of the desk was her first inkling that he was there. She gasped and made a grab for her teetering coffee cup. "Jesus, Mulder! Don't sneak up on me like that!" She was embarrassed by her reaction and it put an edge in her voice. She stood quickly and took the paper with her. "How long have you been standing there?" "I just got here. Who peed in your cornflakes?" He gave her an odd look as they traded places. When he dropped heavily into his chair, Scully placed the sheet of paper in front of him on the desk. "I was trying to decipher your notes." Mulder glanced at the paper, then rolled it into a tight ball, and lobbed it gracefully into the wastebasket near the door. "There's nothing to decipher.
She crossed her arms and leaned into his space. "What makes you so certain that I won't believe you?" His eyes looked so sad for a moment that it made her ache. "Experience." His voice had resumed the flatness that had bothered her so much on the phone. He moved back around the desk and sank wearily into his chair. "Look, I don't want to fight with you, okay? Write the damn report with whatever explanation you like. I'll sign it." Scully pulled her chair over next to him and sat down. He was leaning back in his seat with his eyes closed. When she touched his arm, he opened them but remained facing forward. "Mulder, I know you believe the things you tell me. When I ask for more evidence, it's never because I doubt you personally. You have to know that by now." He nodded his head but refused to meet her eyes. "Yeah, Scully. I know. But there are so many times when there simply is no evidence. Not in any conventional sense. This is one of those times, and I just don't have the energy for another marathon debate that we both know I can't win." He finally turned to face her. "Just let it go." She shook her head. "You know I can't do that. This is a high profile situation. Skinner isn't going to accept 'Call it a feeling' for an answer." "He isn't going to accept the truth, either." He swiveled his chair to face her, pulling his arm out of her gentle grasp in the process. "And neither will you." "Try me." Mulder puffed out a long breath. "I'll give you the short version. I stopped a robbery before it happened because I knew what Bernard Oates was about to do, and the reason I knew is that I had lived the moment before." It was all she could do to keep her expression neutral. "Even putting aside for the moment the fact that time is a universal constant--" He was shaking his head as he interrupted her. "Not in this or any other zip code. It stopped being a universal constant when the first serious studies of time travel began in 1994. I can cite journal references, if you like." "I've read them, and what the articles describe is a theory, Mulder. They theorize that travel through time is possible because the natural laws that were thought to prohibit it have been, for lack of a better word, 'revised'. That has nothing to do with the situation you're describing." "It has everything to do with it. What I'm describing is a loop in time, a repeating segment in an infinite stream, brought about by an aberration in that stream. Something that happened out of sequence and had to be rectified before the stream could continue." This time she could not hold back a sigh. "Even if any of this were possible, how could you retrieve memories of an event that, from your perspective, never took place?" "The short answer is, 'I don't know'. But I can tell you this, Scully: It happened. I was there." He pinned her with his eyes. "And so were you." Time, in whatever stream they currently occupied, was rapidly running out. She glanced at her watch. "We'll have to resume this discussion later. We have just enough time to write the report and get to Skinner's office." "And what are you going to put in this report?" She was already in front of her computer, fingers flying over the keys. "As little as possible, Mulder. We'll both live longer that way." The room was silent except for the occasional rustle of paper as the Assistant Director turned a page. Mulder had retreated back into himself before she'd even finished typing, and he now occupied the seat to her right in body only. His mind was clearly elsewhere. She kept watching him from the corner of her eye, the concern she'd felt earlier growing by the moment. Skinner cleared his throat which immediately drew the attention of both agents. He closed the report folder and pushed it toward the front edge of his desk. "To say that I still have questions would be an understatement." Scully straightened her shoulders. "Yes, sir. I know there are a few gaps, but--" "Gaps." He pulled the folder back, flipped it open, and paraphrased Scully's carefully-worded narrative. "Agent Mulder called from the bank, asked you to take a woman into custody and bring her to him, based on his hunch that a man who had made no threatening moves was going to rob the bank with a bomb, and that this woman, who had no apparent connection to any of this, might be able to help." He closed the folder with exaggerated care and folded his hands atop it. "I'd say there's a gap or two." "Sir, the suspect's behavior and attire fit a fairly standard profile. Agent Mulder's experience and intuition made it possible for him to identify the man as a potential threat. The fact that his hunch turned out to be correct should be proof in itself that what I've written there is accurate." Skinner turned his attention to the silent man to her right. "Agent Mulder? You have nothing to add?" "No, Sir." "And the woman outside the bank. You suspected her, why?" Mulder shifted in his seat. "She looked as if she belonged with Oates." Skinner rubbed his eyes with both hands, pushing his glasses up in the process. He re-seated them and sighed. "Bernard Oates is claiming entrapment, by the way. He says he had no intention of robbing that bank until you walked up and surrendered your weapon to him. I see no mention of that in this report. Is that what happened?" "Yes, Sir." Skinner appeared to recognize the futility of probing any further at this time. "That will be all." He leaned back in his chair, but there was nothing relaxed in his posture. Mulder stood immediately and headed for the door, drawing an exasperated sigh from Skinner. Scully gave him a vaguely apologetic smile and followed. By the time she reached the outer door, her partner was already down the hall in front of the elevator, jabbing furiously at the call button. From his posture, she was expecting anything but the smile he flashed when she reached his side. "Hey, Scully! How 'bout those Knicks?" She masked her confusion with a raised eyebrow and remained silent. The elevator dinged its arrival. "Come on, Scully." He stepped into the elevator and held the door for her. When she didn't move, he swept his arm in an expansive gesture. "Your chariot awaits." She glanced briefly at the ceiling and followed him in. It was a strange ride to the basement, with Mulder exuding way too much cheer and Scully doing a quick mental scramble trying to follow his abrupt turn. When the doors opened, he shot through them and sprinted for their office. Scully watched his departing back with equal parts confusion and concern. When she caught up to him again, he was sitting at his desk gazing raptly at the computer monitor. "I've got one for you. A woman in Lexington Kentucky who claims she can stop time with her garage door opener." She walked up and perched one hip on the corner of his desk, forcing him to lean back. When she crossed her arms over her chest, he leaned back even more. "Mulder, we have to talk about this." He raised his eyebrows and she held up one hand. "Don't even try to pretend that you don't know what I mean. Mulder, you have never, in all the years I've known you, let a little thing like lack of evidence deter you from trying to sell me on a theory. Why now?" He shrugged. "Maybe I'm not sure what I believe." She felt her mouth drop open. "Excuse me?" Mulder suddenly seemed uncomfortable, shifting in his seat and refusing to meet her eyes. "Just let it go, okay? Believe what you want. I just don't want to talk about it anymore." He pulled a file from the stack in front of him and started flipping through its contents. Scully watched him in stunned silence for a moment, then stood. "I was planning to assist with Pam Oates' autopsy later this afternoon. I think I'll just head over there now...get a head start." Mulder nodded but did not comment or even spare her a glance. She paused at the door and looked back at him. He never looked up. Scully was in the car on her way to see Bernard Oates before she'd even realized she'd made the decision to do so. No one questioned her right to interview the man, and she found herself waiting for him in an interrogation room with no idea of what she was going to say. They brought him to her, wrists shackled to a belt around his waist, eyes empty. His burly guard sat him down in the chair across from her, then left them alone. "Do you remember me, Mr. Oates?" He nodded. "I already told the police everything." "I know, and I'm not here to ask you about the robbery. Not directly, anyway. What my partner told you in the bank, about the day repeating over and over. Did you know what he was talking about?" She had rehearsed this in the car, and it still sounded as crazy as it had in her head. Whatever Bernard Oates had been expecting her to say, this clearly was not it. For a moment, his blank expression was animated by surprise. "I-I don't know what you're asking me." "I'm asking if anything about what he said made sense to you." He was looking at her like she'd lost her mind, which was the way she was beginning to feel. He seemed to consider her question, studying her face intently. Suddenly his expression changed, eyes focused on infinity, widening as if the secrets of the universe had just been revealed to him. "*Pam* knew what he was talking about." His voice was very soft, full of wonder and pain. "Bernard, what did--" He seemed no longer to be aware Scully was even in the room. "She tried to tell me. She said we would lose everything... She tried..." "Bernard?" Not the slightest flicker to let her know he'd heard. Scully rose quietly and pressed the exit button next to the door. When she looked back at him, he didn't even seem to be breathing. She had called ahead to have Pam Wallace's autopsy moved up in the schedule, so the body was prepared and waiting for her when she arrived. Luck was also on her side in that her favorite assistant, Mark Liu, was available. He knew exactly what supplies and equipment she preferred, and all was in order by the time she stepped into the chill silence of the autopsy room. Mark was taking measurements of the body. He glanced up and smiled when he heard her come in. "This looks like pretty standard stuff, Dana. What's your interest?" "She was killed in a bank robbery that Agent Mulder and I stopped yesterday." She pulled on her gloves and began her preliminary examination. Mark looked stricken. "God, Dana. I'm sorry. I hadn't heard. Is Mulder all right? Did one of you..." "No, nothing like that. Mulder's fine." Physically, at least. "I just wanted to follow up." She smiled at him. "It's okay. Really." She waited until he nodded and returned to his task. She had no idea what she was expecting to find. After all, she'd seen the woman shot, had even talked to her briefly. The cause of death was certainly not in doubt. And yet, she couldn't shake the feeling that there was something... But nothing appeared in her examination. The bullet had penetrated the woman's left lung and torn through the pulmonary artery. She had bled to death in moments. Mark was closing the incisions when Scully noticed something. There was a matted area in the hair near the woman's left ear. Scully moved around the table and lifted the head slightly to get a better look. She found herself looking down the woman's thin torso, her hands cradling the head-- *Mulder on the floor, his head in her hands. Gasping, choking on the blood--* "Dana!" Strong hands gripped her arms and the shadows parted. Mark Liu's worried face was inches from her own. Something hard against her back. She was sitting on the floor, and he was crouched in front of her. Her first sensation was profound embarrassment. "I'm fine," but he held her in place when she tried to get up. "Not so fast. You dropped like somebody cut the legs out from under you." His fingers were resting against her neck. "And your heart is racing. What the hell happened?" Embarrassment evaporated as the horrified panic that had sent her crashing to the floor returned with a vengeance. The image of Mulder dying in her arms was so intense that she was shaking. She had to get out of here. Now. "Please, Mark. I just got dizzy. It's nothing." She rose to her feet, using the wall as support until she trusted her balance. The young man watched her with concern, both hands poised to grab her, if necessary. Scully pushed him gently aside and moved to the sink. She ripped off the latex gloves and washed her hands. "I'm fine, Mark, but I need to get back to the office. Will you finish up for me?" She was relieved to hear the steadiness of her voice. "Sure, Dana. I'll handle it. You sure you're okay to drive? Shouldn't one of the doctors take a look at you?" She turned and smiled at him as she dried her hands. "I am one of the doctors. And I'm really fine, Mark. Please stop hovering." The need to see Mulder was as baffling as it was all consuming. She thanked Mark for his help and his concern, and nearly ran to her car. The drive to the Hoover Building was a blur, and by the time she got off the elevator in the basement, she was in a breathless, unreasoning panic. The office was locked and empty at one o'clock in the afternoon. She made a quick search for any clues to his whereabouts, then dialed his cell number. It went straight to voice mail. Scully forced herself to sit down and breathe. The image of him bleeding to death would not relinquish its hold, and rationalizing wasn't making a dent in the panic. The thought occurred to her that she was damn lucky he wasn't here, because she would surely have made a total idiot of herself checking him for wounds. That image slowly began to replace the other, and she felt herself begin to relax. Was this what Mulder had been afraid to share with her? Was it as real to him? She picked up the phone and dialed his apartment. As she expected, it rang four times and the answering machine picked up. She waited for the beep. "Mulder, if you're there, pick up the phone. I need to talk to you. Please." She was about to give up when she heard his voice. "I'm here." He sounded vaguely irritated, but unharmed. Relief made her shaky and she tried to keep it out of her voice. "What's up, Mulder? Why didn't you tell me you were leaving early?" "Before you ask, I'm fine. I just didn't feel like sitting in the office, so I told Skinner I was taking the rest of the day off. I'll see you tomorrow." He hung up before she could react. Thirty minutes later, she was standing outside his apartment door feeling foolish and anxious by turns. She was about to walk away when the door swung open. Mulder smiled and bowed his head in resignation. "I can't say that I'm surprised. Do you want to come in, or were you just going to stand out here and listen for the shot?" He winced at his own pathetic attempt at humor. "Sorry, that wasn't very funny." He stepped back and waved her in. She stopped in the center of his living room. His computer was on and there were several files open on the desk next to it. He really had been working. Mulder closed and locked the door, then walked around her on his way to the couch. He sank into the cushions with a weary sigh. "You're really not gonna let up on this, are you?" He was sprawled over the far end of the couch with his left arm along its back and his right dangling over the side. Scully sat down at the opposite end, her posture almost military in comparison. "This isn't about the robbery any more, Mulder. It's about the fact that you know more than you're willing to tell me. It's about you censoring the truth in what looks like an attempt to protect me from it." She gave him a small smile and added, "And it's the only way I can stop you from hanging up on me." He gave her a sheepish grin in return, dropping his gaze almost shyly. But it passed very quickly, and when he looked up at her again, his eyes were dark with worry. "I'm not lying to you, Scully." "I didn't say you were. I talked with Bernard Oates for a few minutes this morning. He seemed to remember something while we were talking, and it upset him. He couldn't tell me what it was, but I think I found out for myself." This was hard, and she suddenly understood part of what had kept him silent. "While I was doing the autopsy later, I...remembered something, too." Her voice had become so soft toward the end that Mulder had leaned close in order to hear her. He stayed that way, and his hand moved from the back of the couch to her shoulder. "What did you remember?" The tears surprised her, but he had that effect on her when he was like this. If he lifted her chin with his fingers, it would be all over. She blinked them back and kept her face turned down. "I remembered... or dreamed... I saw a different ending. It was so real--" "Scully, look at me." Gentle fingers cupped her chin, and she resisted the pull for a moment. When she looked up, his eyes were as damp as her own. "Tell me what you saw." "I had come looking for you, and Bernard met me at the door. He was pointing his gun at my head, and I saw you get up from the floor. He didn't see you, but a woman screamed and he turned-- " She actually heard the gunshot, and felt her body recoil in horror. Mulder grabbed her shoulders, his face creased with concern. "Scully? It's all right, it's--" "--he shot you in the chest. I just stood there with my gun pointed at his back! I should have killed him, but I couldn't move!" Her voice was rising, the words tumbling over one another in her rush to get them out. Mulder's grip on her tightened. "When he started to turn toward you, I should have shot him, but I just stood there and watched him point the gun at your chest. I just stood there and let him do it! You died in my arms, Mulder! It was my fault, I--", she broke off on a sobbing gasp, and the tears overflowed, scalding her cheeks with shame. Mulder pulled her against his chest, his lips brushing against her hair. His voice was soft, but vibrating with emotion. "There wasn't anything you could have done. That's the whole point. Something had to go wrong every time the loop repeated. Until the right person died." "Pam." It was barely a whisper, but he heard her. "Somehow, she cheated death the first time. That's why she was the only one who knew from the beginning that the day was repeating. She just didn't know why. Not 'til the end. She knew enough to warn us... or to try, at least." His voice tightened, and Scully felt his heart pounding beneath her cheek. "I talked to her after she was shot. She... I think she finally understood..." Scully slid her arms around his waist and burrowed into his warmth, as much to comfort him as herself. They stayed that way for a long time, until their emotions began to calm and they became aware of the intimacy of it all. Comfort was evolving into something else. Scully felt it just as he pulled himself gently from her embrace. He squeezed her hand as he moved back, his smile tinged with regret. "Mulder, you should not have kept this from me." There was a bit of anger in her voice, and she let it stand. Instead of the denial she'd expected, he brushed his knuckles tenderly across her tearstained cheek and nodded. "I know." She gave him a shaky smile. "Don't think you're going to disarm me by agreeing with me, Mulder. I'm onto you." She punched his shoulder lightly, feeling the last of the tension vanish like fog in sunlight. "You have to trust me with the truth." His expression sobered, and his voice fell to a whisper. "I will if you will." Ah, he was going for the jugular. "Be careful what you wish for, Mulder. There may be some truths you're not ready to hear." Just for a moment, the truth they had danced around so carefully for years showed plainly in his eyes. "Try me." And for that a moment, it was all she could do to keep from speaking it aloud. End |