Chapter Text
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Chapter 1
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It had been five months since Antarctica, and he could still feel the sharp cut of cold air in his nose, the crunch of snow under his cheek as Scully held him close, half his clothes gone, half himself protecting her. It was August in DC, the air hot and thick with car exhaust and pollen, the humidity at 100%, and there were still times he thought he might never be warm again.
He leaned back in his chair at his seemingly permanent temporary desk in the BCU bullpen and picked up his phone, bored. Muscle memory dialed the number for him and she picked up before the second ring.
“Mulder, I have a class starting in less than ten minutes,” she said, without so much as a hello. “You know this.”
He sighed into the receiver.
“I’m bored,” he said.
“Yeah,” she replied, the touch of frustration gone from her voice, replaced with a casual empathy. “Me too.”
“Want to get lunch later?”
“I can’t,” she said, then added, “Skinner’s assistant called me this morning. I have a meeting with him at 1:30.”
“Today?” He asked, incredulity creeping in.
“Yes, Mulder. Today. Listen, I’ve got to go, I’ve got students coming in. I’ll call you after class.”
She hung up without saying goodbye.
He tipped his chair back as he hung up the receiver and looked up to a familiar hulk approaching his desk.
“Agent Mulder,” Skinner said, giving him an assessing look.
“Sir?”
“I’d like you to come by my office at 1:30.”
“Today?” Mulder said, once again. Boredom turned him peevish.
“You have somewhere else to be?”
“No, sir.”
At that Skinner nodded and stalked off.
So. Both he and Scully had been called in. This was either really good, or really bad.
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When he came into the anteroom outside Skinner’s office, Scully was already there waiting and there was a maintenance worker in the process of removing Skinner’s name tag from the door. He and Scully shared a look of raised eyebrows and he plopped down next to her on the couch with a touch of petulance, the wind coming out of his sails. Maybe this wasn’t a good news meeting after all.
At that moment a young agent came walking in, nodding at Kimberly.
“I’m supposed to see him at 1:30?” He said to her.
He had a short, choppy haircut and thick preppy glasses. He pulled at his tie like he wasn’t used to wearing it as Kimberly directed him to a chair opposite Mulder and Scully. He plopped down and gave the armrests a little drum, clearly not a kid who was used to sitting still. Skinner popped his head out of his door.
“Agents?” He said expectantly.
All three stood up and Skinner turned to the third man.
“Stone?”
“Yessir?”
“Give us a minute.”
“Yessir.” He plopped back down.
Mulder and Scully exchanged another look and followed Skinner into his office.
“I have some news,” he said once they were all settled. “The OPR recommendation finally came down.”
“Don’t keep us hanging,” Mulder said, trying to keep the glibness out of his voice.
“The X-Files are being reopened,” he said.
“I’m sensing a ‘but,’” Scully said, leaning forward.
“Less of a ‘but,’” Skinner went on, “more of an ‘and.’”
“And?” Said Mulder.
Skinner looked at them a moment without saying anything. Assessing or deciding, Mulder couldn’t quite figure out.
“Your budget has increased,” He finally said. “You’ll have two more full-time agents assigned to the unit.”
Scully’s face fell, and Mulder leaned back.
“Not to sound ungrateful,” Mulder said, holding up a hand, “but our recent experience working with other agents on cases associated with the X-Files has not gone all that great.”
He remembers the five o’clock shadow scrape of Krycek kissing his cheek. Shoving Spender into a wall. The latent smell of cigarette smoke and a basement full of ash.
Skinner leaned back.
“I’ve been promoted,” he said, looking at each of them in turn. “To Deputy Director. I’ve been given authority to shape and oversee the X-Files unit.”
Skinner let that sink in a moment before going on, his tone indicating that this wasn’t a negotiation.
“Agent Mulder will be the X-Files SAC. You’ll be giving the orders to the agents under you and will have hiring and firing approval.”
Mulder shot a look at Scully.
“What about Agent Scully, sir?”
“Quantico has requested she stay on there to teach.”
Mulder opened his mouth to protest, but Skinner raised a calming hand.
“Technically, she would be an instructor in residence at Quantico, but assigned to the X-Files as official consult. Able to take leave from teaching whenever needed in the field or at the Hoover.”
He gave Scully a pointed look.
“The decision is obviously hers. Quantico wants her, but so do I.”
“So do I,” said Mulder quietly.
Scully tucked her chin to her chest, her eyes to the floor. Neither of them had been quite expecting this.
Skinner leaned back and gave them a moment.
“I thought you’d be pleased,” he finally said.
Scully looked at Mulder.
“I can’t speak for Agent Mulder,” she finally said.
“You can,” Mulder said with confidence.
Off his look, she continued.
“But I’d like nothing more than to continue our work.”
“Great,” said Skinner, “It’s done, then.”
He rose. Mulder made to get up too, but Scully spoke.
“Sir,” she said, “what about the X-Files? The actual files, sir. The ones destroyed in the fire?”
Skinner turned back to them. “Kimberly had begun digitizing them months ago,” he said, off of Mulder’s surprised look. “She was able to save most of them to a secure server. She said the only ones she hadn’t gotten to were those from the last year or two.”
Scully looked at Mulder. “I should have those on my computer,” she said to Mulder, “you should too. After the most recent Executive Order, we’ve been required to keep digital copies of all reports since almost that long ago.”
“My laptop was in my office when it burned,” Mulder said flatly. “If I’m not mistaken, yours was, too.”
Scully gave a pinched look and Skinner made his way to the door.
“About that,” he said, opening the office door and gesturing outside.
The young agent who’d been outside waiting walked in and Skinner pointed him to an empty chair around his conference table.
“This is Agent Stone,” he said, “He works in Computer Sciences and Crimes – he’s been working to restore the destroyed computer units from your office.”
Off a surprised look from the X-Files agents, Stone shrugged. “Standard procedure,” the young agent said, “Evidence conservation and protection.”
“Were you able to save any of our work?” Mulder asked.
Stone looked at him.
“I was able to save all of it,” he said. “And I want in.”
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“I don’t understand,” Scully said at last.
Skinner nodded his head at the young man. “He’s here for a job interview. He’d like to be one of your two new X-Files agents.”
Stone sat up, animated. “I’ve obviously read all the files on your computers,” he said, “and when I was done with those, I read all the digitized files.” He looked at them both keenly. “I’ve read every single X-File. It’s fascinating work. I want to do it. I want in.”
Scully raised an eyebrow.
“You’ve read every file on a secure server?”
“I, uh, may have hacked it,” he said, momentarily sheepish. He nodded toward Skinner. “I came to the Assistant Director with my concerns on just how secure it is. I can help you with that. I can help with a lot. I know I’m pretty green, but I’ve read your files back to front and I know I can help you.”
Skinner looked to Mulder. “Your discretion,” he said. “Your unit.”
Mulder appraised the young agent for a moment and turned to Skinner.
“I’ll want a full background check. If there’s so much as a hint of Morley smoke anywhere in this kid’s past, he’s gone. He doesn’t come near the X-Files OR our computers. If he passes that,” he turned to look at Stone, “trial basis. As short or long as I see fit. This isn’t a tenured position.”
Stone sat up straight, smiling.
“Yes, right. Sweet. Awesome. Yes.”
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These men. These men who would do anything for a hairsbreadth of power. She’d been kidnapped, micro chipped, infected with a malignancy. They’d taken her ova and her career and the love of her life more than once. She couldn’t watch the news without seeing their malevolent machinations in every third disaster. Don’t even get her started on Colony Collapse. If she could kill every one of them and film it, she’s convinced snuff would become her kink.
But maybe… Maybe they had a chance now. To bring down the Syndicate. To bring down the Smoking Man. Cautious optimism was still a pretty generous name to put to it, but she finally felt if not a sense of hope, at least not the Sisyphean doom and gloom from months before.
She looked over her glass of wine at Mulder. He’d shown up, energized, practically bouncing up and down at her door, bearing pizza and Chianti.
“I’m surprised you didn’t put up more of a fight on Stone,” she said.
Mulder shrugged.
“Maybe it was the high of getting the X-Files back, but I also don’t want to look a gift Skinner in the mouth, if you know what I mean.”
“I know what you mean.”
The terms of getting back the X-Files was best case scenario. It was probably too good to be true.
“He seems young,” she added.
“He IS young,” Mulder said, “I went over his file this afternoon. Graduated at 20 from MIT and recruited straight out of graduation. He’s only been a full agent in the Bureau a little over two years.”
“Any field experience?”
“None.”
“Oh boy.” Scully took another swig.
“What he lacks in experience, he makes up for in enthusiasm,” Mulder said. “I’m hoping I can train him up my way.”
“The suits are gonna just love that,” she deadpanned, and Mulder smiled.
He leaned back on her couch and fished an errant piece of pineapple from his shirt collar.
“How you can eat that on pizza, I’ll never understand,” Scully said, standing and bussing their plates to the kitchen.
Instead of taking the bait, Mulder blew out a sigh, his mind elsewhere.
“I don’t even know where to start on finding someone for the other position,” he said. “If we’re not careful and don’t do it our way, we’re going to end up with another fucking Krycek.”
Scully winced and made her way back to the couch, tucking her feet under her on the other end. She tried not to look at the space by her door where Melissa died.
“I may be able to help with that,” she said.
“Oh yeah?” Mulder leaned forward.
“I have a student,” she started.
“Not another baby agent, Scully,” Mulder said, “we don’t have the budget for a nanny.”
“She’s new to the Bureau, yes,” Scully went on, “but was a beat cop and made detective extremely fast. Ten years with the LAPD before she went Fed. She’s smart, Mulder. She asks all the right questions.” She waited a beat. “She reminds me of you.”
“Devastatingly handsome and hard to love?”
Scully tucked her chin to her chest, not meeting his eyes. She made a decision then, hard and fast.
“I’ve never found it hard to love you,” she said quietly.
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There it was.
They hadn’t talked at all about what happened in Mulder’s hallway before Antarctica. Mulder wasn’t even sure she remembered it and it had been too awkward to ask.
“Scully,” he said. She still hadn’t looked up, so he reached out a finger and swept it gently down her leg.
She looked toward him and rested her cheek on her knee.
“You deserve to know,” she said, “after everything we’ve been through.”
Her voice was husky. His pulse started to race. His finger was still on her leg and he fought the urge to skim it higher.
“You know, if you’re officially stationed at Quantico, it’s not fraternization,” he said. He wasn’t sure if he came off glib or flirtatious. He wasn’t sure of anything.
Scully reached for her wine and took a measured sip.
“Are you coming on to me?” She said. Flirtatious.
Jesus.
His throat bobbed.
“I’m coming over with wine more often, is what I’m doing,” he said, reaching for his own glass to cover for his nerves.
“En vino veritas?” Scully said.
“The veritas has always been our problem, Scully. Maybe the vino is the solution.”
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“Mulder,” she said, rising up on her knees. She reached up and ran a hand lightly over his cheek. She’d never just come right out and said how she felt about him. Before the bee thing in his hallway, a surveillance chat about root beer and iced tea was as close as they’d come. Enough, she thought. She wanted to kiss him, but the timing didn’t seem right. This was too profound a moment for them. She knew if she kissed him, she’d be outside herself instantly and right now she didn’t want to miss a thing.
He seemed to push into her hand slightly, leaning into her touch. His eyes never left hers. His cheek was sandpapery under her fingers and she remembered that fingertips have more nerve endings that most places on the body. Most.
“Let’s get our unit put together,” she said softly. “I’m not going anywhere.”
Almost six years of ghost hunting, she thought, and flashed on the industrial smell of hospital sheets, the acrid tang of gunpowder. Mulder loping off on his knight’s quest to find his sister, Scully the squire at his side. He was six feet of rumpled suits and taut muscles and she’d fallen in love with him years ago. Hopelessly, stupidly, embarrassingly in love with him. He cracked bad jokes on stakeouts and mumbled her name in his sleep – of course she wasn’t going anywhere.
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She leaned forward and gave him a lingering kiss on his cheek. He tried not to let his disappointment show.
“Yeah,” he said, his voice husky, too. “Yeah.”
He leaned back, banking the fire on the moment.
She grabbed the glass out of his hand, which he hadn’t realized was empty, and took the rest of their meal detritus into the kitchen. He rose.
“Send me the file on your candidate, would you?” He said, making his way to her door. He took his time putting on his coat and lingered in the doorway.
She came over slowly and stood in front of him, close.
“Scully?” He said, his hand on the doorknob. He leaned forward so their foreheads were almost touching. He needed to say it before he lost his nerve. “I love you, too.”
He practically ran outside then, his blood thrumming. It took everything he had not to crow triumphantly at the moon.
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Jasmine Isaacs. 36 years old. African American. California native. Highly decorated detective with a great solve rate. Single, no children.
The kid thing grabbed Mulder by the collar first thing. It was good to have no kids. Just another thing to use against you.
He leaned back in his chair and blew out a sigh, his thoughts turning depressive. What a fucking way to think, he thought. That children -- most people’s high point--were just another tool in the arsenal of the Consortium.
The basement office felt different. The smell of paint fumes still permeated the space. It was a different shade of grey than the last one, off by just a touch, which grabbed Mulder’s eye every time it strayed from the file in front of him. He’d gotten a new I Want To Believe poster from the same place on K Street where he’d gotten the first one, a throwback to a simpler time. They’d done a bit of work on the office in the refurbish – got rid of the wall leading to the annex and managed to squeeze three small desktops into the space. He thought Scully’s should be bigger than the other two and considered clearing off a different area to make it more senior looking, but she had her own office at Quantico and it was probably twice the size of the entire basement. Good, he thought. She deserved that.
He turned back to the candidate’s file in front of him. She looked promising. Had a high solve rate. Nothing in her background suggested an ulterior motive, nor highlighted a weakness the Consortium could exploit. So far, so good. If Scully wanted her, so did he. Stone seemed into the paranormal shit. Isaacs could be the level-headed counterpart. He wanted to get them both into a room and see what happened. Isaacs graduated from Quantico next week.
Scully walked in then, the smell of the street still on her clothes. Hot dog vendors and fresh air, the amniotic petrichor of the Potomac. He could hear the elevator doors close as she sloughed off her coat.
“How goes it?” she greeted him.
He flipped the file closed and casually tossed it on his desk.
“What a time to be alive,” he said.
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