Rumor 
by Beduini
beduini@earthlink.net 
Rating: R
Category: If I wrote it, it's gotta be MSR.
Spoilers: Hungry, FTF, End Game, Biogenesis, Amor Fati, Orison.
Archive: Ask me before archiving so I know where it's going. I
like to visit them on birthdays and holidays.
Disclaimer: Basically, I have no legal right to be doing this. I
admit it. As I'm not making any money from my effort, what
difference does it make?

Marty did the beta. Thanks, Marty!

This is dedicated to my bestest friend Karooni, who doesn't believe
me when I tell her that I still have her Christmas and birthday
presents sitting on top of my piano. Maybe by Valentine's Day, Wom!
xxxxxxxxxxx 

It started like many rumors do - in the ladies room on the sixth
floor. This time it happened to be during the five-minute break
between departmental speakers in the first quarterly review of the
new Millennium.

While re-applying her lipstick Special Agent Henry commented to
Special Agent DeLuca about the noticeable marks on Special Agent
Scully's right cheekbone and forehead, and the bruising around her
left eye. DeLuca added that Scully clearly seemed uncomfortable
throughout the first two presenters. Although they were all a
little bored with the financial projections laid out by the tax
division, they speculated that perhaps the reason Scully was so
uncomfortable was because her injuries extended beyond what could
not be covered by her clothing.

After the break, when everyone who was supposed to be in the review
was present, Scully's partner Special Agent Fox Mulder got up and
gave a brief overview of the cases he and Scully had opened during
the first quarter. Although he received a few snickers at the
mention of a successfully closed case involving a cannibalistic
young man with extraordinary physical characteristics working at a
fast food restaurant in Orange County, California, everyone took the
sight of his physical appearance very seriously. As light and
charming as his delivery was, he never stood completely straight,
seemingly hunched over stiffly at the lower back. His face was
marked with a slightly swollen, split lip, and Agents Henry and
DeLuca whispered with Agent Carlson about the fact that there
appeared to be a small tuft of hair missing from the right side of
his head.

By mid-morning the speculation had grown, fueled by the sight of
Scully limping out of the meeting, steadfastly refusing the arm
offered to her by her partner. He remained close without touching
her, just in case. At any rate, she appeared to be leaning toward
him, without leaning toward him (if such a thing were possible)
commented Agent Carlson to Agent Lopez back in the bullpen.

Over burgers and beer at lunch a group of agents, including Agent
Lopez, began discussing the less-than-the-usual-polished appearance
of Scully and Mulder that day, their conversation turning to
previous scrapes and bruises suffered by the X Files team. There
was that time he went to Antarctica and pulled her half dead out of
the snow. Another time, a couple of years back, when she pulled him
half dead out of the snow. No, Agent Rosen countered, the military
pulled him out of the snow and she stuck him back into a tub filled
with ice, somehow saving his life. Not to mention Mulder's
mysterious illness and the emergency brain surgery last fall.
Gunshot wounds, abductions, murdered family members, fires...even
that fetishist escaped from prison to have another go at Scully just
weeks ago.

The group agreed that they'd seen more action than any ten agents in
the violent crimes and drug enforcement units combined and on that
distinction alone they had been elevated to nearly legendary status
in the eyes of their peers. As the hour wore on, more incidents
were cited, and it became glaringly clear...

...Mulder and Scully had more lives than Morris the cat. And they
had to be nearing the top of the ninth.

Just after lunch the story that had been shaped by the cigarette
crowd, of which Agent Rosen was a part, was one of intrigue and
conspiracy, with deadly consequences. Mulder and Scully had
evidently ventured out over the weekend into another unknown
unsolved case from which they'd narrowly escaped with their lives.
Something of the utmost secrecy and carrying global significance.

Assistant Director Jana Cassidy was indulging in her own unsolved
dilemma, having gone all morning without the sweet taste of tobacco
or the soothing rush of nicotine.

Quitting smoking was a bitch.

Standing unseen on her own, she listened as she drew deeply from the
filtered phallus between her lips, feeling her body hum with the
narcotic pumping through her veins. Mulder and Scully running off
unauthorized, digging around into God knows what. She could only
imagine what the explanations would be this time. Surely not bees
carrying an alien virus again.

Stubbing out her cigarette, she blew out the last glorious puff of
smoke and made her way inside to find out if there was any truth to
the rumor.


Assistant Director Walter Skinner was sitting at his desk in white
shirtsleeves when she walked in, his glasses perched on the edge of
his nose. He looked up, blinking at her a moment, before turning
back to the papers in front of him. "Jana." He said evenly.

"Walter."

"To what do I owe the pleasure?" His voice held a hint of sarcasm,
and he didn't look back up at her as she took a seat opposite him,
crossing her legs as she studied him.

"How are things with the X Files these days?"

Walter Skinner paused, his hand hovering over the document on his
desk, and let out a breath of air, looking up at her.

"Why do you ask?"

She shrugged nonchalantly. "I heard part of Agent Mulder's
presentation this morning. From the sound of it, things have been
pretty busy."

He put down his pen, took off his glasses and pinched his nose
between his thumb and index finger, clenching his eyes shut at the
same time. After a moment he replaced his glasses.

"What have you heard." It was a question, but the way he said it,
it sounded more like a statement. Direct and to the point, just
like him. He didn't look at her.

"Just a rumor."

He sighed and made direct eye contact, nodding slightly. "Still
trying to give up cigarettes?"

She let out an impatient huff and rolled her eyes, having been
caught indulging in her narcotic of choice. "Oh for God's sake,
Walter, cut the dance routine and talk to me. We used to be able to
talk."

Back when they had both indulged in two packs a day, he mused. His
shoulders relaxed ever so slightly and he looked down at his desk a
moment, then back at her. "You know there's nothing in the
guidelines that prohibits them from seeing each other outside of the
office."

She sat up with interest, her eyebrow quirked. "They're sleeping
together?"

He sat back in his chair, exhaling long and slow, his face carefully
unreadable. "I don't know. You said you heard a rumor, I assumed
that was the standard rumor that has made the rounds from time to
time over the last seven years."

She smiled at him. "So are they?"

His response was solid, like steel, and still unreadable. "I don't
know. I don't think so."

She looked at him a moment longer, knowing he was telling her the
truth. "That's not the rumor I heard today. The rumor I heard
today was that Agents Mulder and Scully were out sleuthing over the
weekend and exposed themselves into a significant amount of danger.
The kind of danger that seems to follow them around more than any
pair of agents I've ever seen since I've been at the Bureau."

He sat up again, his eyes boring into hers. "What kind of danger?"

"Did you look at them this morning, Walter? They look like they've
been to Hell and back. What in God's name are they working on?"

He folded his hands together on the desk. "Nothing that I'm aware
of. But with Mulder you never know. He...attracts...certain cases
like shit attracts flies."

"I understand they're driven, but they're not twenty anymore, and
this lifestyle is taking its toll on them."

He let out a soft snort. "None of us are twenty anymore. What
aren't you telling me, Jana? What do you know?"

"Nothing. If I did, I wouldn't be here now, would I?" She sat
back, their eyes holding a familiar challenge in a time-worn game of
cat and mouse as they stared each other down.

He sighed. "What do you want me to do? I can't forbid them from
investigating leads on their own time."

She nodded. "What's it going to take, Walter? Watching them run
off together into the sunset until one of them doesn't make it back?
Presenting the flag to her at his funeral?" She paused for effect.
"Or to him at hers, perhaps?" She noted the way he clenched his
teeth, his jaw twitching, and her long-held suspicion was confirmed.
Hard-assed Walter Skinner, ex-Marine and Vietnam Vet, held a soft
spot for Special Agent Dana Scully. How soft that spot was would
have to be determined over time. Something more to ponder on her
cigarette breaks, maybe.

She stood, offering him a look that told him to think about
intervention, and without another word walked out of the office,
leaving him with his teeth clenched and the vein on the side of his
head throbbing.

When the door closed behind her, he let out a sigh. He really
didn't need any of this bullshit today, but considering the history
of the X Files and it's investigative team, he knew he had better
look into it before whatever it was they were involved in this time
bit him in the ass.

Bypassing his assistant, Assistant Director Skinner picked up his
phone and called down to the basement to arrange a meeting.


Scully picked up the call.

Skinner wanted to see her and Mulder in his office ASAP. When she
hung up the telephone, she looked at Mulder, who nodded as she
stared solemnly back at him. Without a word they stood and made
their way out the door, her limp no less evident than it was that
morning.

They stood side by side in the elevator, both leaning against the
back of the car, facing forward. She looked sideways up at him, and
he glanced down, his eyes confirming his assurance. He offered a
hint of smile, which she returned, barely, as the doors opened to
allow several more passengers into the car.

Scully's stride was purposeful as she entered Assistant Director
Skinner's office, in spite of the limp. She bypassed the A.D.'s
Assistant without hesitation, Kimberly glancing up but not stopping
her. After several years on the job, she was more than accustomed
to being left out of the loop when it came to these two particular
agents.

Mulder was directly behind Scully, and as they took their seats
Scully noticed that the A.D. was taking in their appearance with
unusual scrutiny. She raised her chin, and looking him steadily in
the eye, said, "Sir." She was determined that she wouldn't be the
weak link, not giving anything away.

Mulder's jaw was clenched as he sat, and echoed her 'Sir' with his
own.

Skinner let out a long breath of air, looking them over a moment
longer. "Agents."

They were silent for an uncomfortable amount of time, Mulder's
boundless energy limited to the wagging of one expensively clad
foot. Finally, Skinner cleared his throat and addressed them again.
"Word is you two were involved in something...unusual...over the
weekend."

Scully's lips pursed, and Mulder stared back at him with a poker
face. "Care to elaborate on that speculation, Sir?" He said
without inflection.

Skinner stared back at him, calling his bluff. "What I mean, Agent
Mulder, is you two look like shit." His voice softened, taking on
the tone of a caring father as opposed to a hard-nosed Drill
Seargent. "I've seen you look worse, but not by much. What the
Hell is going on?"

Scully's eyes darted over to Mulder's face for a brief instant
before she looked down and shifted stiffly in her seat. She had
maintained that it was nobody's business, but if it came up they
should tell the truth. Mulder argued to the contrary, stating that
the truth would bring on more trouble than they needed right now.
So she remained silent, deferring the explanation to him.

Mulder wasn't sure what he was going to say. Images came unbidden
to his mind, almost like a psychedelic high-speed slide show that
played constantly in his head, but he was afraid to stop and dwell
on for more than just a few fleeting moments. There was a dark
alley, and the smell of filth and piss and vomit, and the retreating
footsteps of a less-than reliable informant. There was snow and
Scully's full Irish fury directed completely at him in her deadly
blue eyes. There was his own anger and frustration and an un-
censored remark and then there was the feel of her fist solidly
connecting with his face and the wet, metallic taste of blood.

Skinner seemed to read the unspoken unity between the two, and
focused his attention on Scully first. His voice was firm, but
there was a gentleness to it when he addressed her. "Agent Scully?"

Scully looked up at him, her eyes less defiant but still not giving
anything away. "I don't know what you're talking about." She
replied. Her delivery was good, but knowing Scully for as long as
he had, he recognized her evasive tactic for what it was.

Skinner let out a huff, and after a moment, he said, "Alright,
Scully, you can go."

Scully glanced at Mulder. He met her gaze briefly before she stood
and limped out of the office.

Fox Mulder knew interrogation. He knew interrogation like the back
of his hand, and he knew that separating him and Scully was the
obvious tactic...but it wasn't going to work in this case. He
wasn't up for sharing his experience.

Skinner stood and walked around his desk until he was directly in
front of Mulder. Leaning back against the desk, he crossed his arms
and looked at him.

"Am I going to be receiving a visit from our smoking friend over
this?" He asked, exhaling in preparation for the answer to hit him
in the solar plexus.

Mulder bit the inside of his cheek thoughtfully. "I don't think
so."

Skinner reached out his hand and grabbed Mulder's chin between his
thumb and forefinger, turning the agent's head to examine the
quarter-sized bald spot his left side. Scully had apologized more
than once for that, of course. He kind of liked the way she bit her
lip when she looked at it, because it was one of the rare times when
he knew without a doubt what she was thinking.

Skinner dropped his hand and crossed his arms once again. "Stand
up."

Mulder looked up at him, then stood, wincing as the tender skin on
his back stretched with the effort. With a few crackles and a fair
amount of pain it straightened, all under the careful supervision of
the Assistant Director. Mulder sucked on his upper lip, looking at
the door and the picture of Janet Reno on the wall - anything to
avoid Skinner's gaze.

"I suppose you're going to tell me the other guy looks worse."
Skinner commented.

One side of Mulder's mouth turned up in a smirk at the A.D.'s choice
of words. The 'other guy' was a petite redhead with a fair
complexion that forgave nothing. Her eye was black from the solid
connection it made with the bone and gristle of his shoulder. So
yeah, the 'other guy' looked much worse.

"You could say that." Mulder replied, still smirking. He recalled
every one of the purple and blue marks his partner wore like a badge
of courage. There was no doubt she was as tough as she was
tenacious, and to her dismay he'd taken to calling her 'Scrappy-Doo'
when no one else was around.

'If I'm Scrappy-Doo, Mulder, who does that make you? Shaggy?' She
asked as she turned her full, irritated countenance upon him.

The only thing he could think of to say to that was 'zoinks'. Then
he'd pointed to the bald spot on his head and her countenance
crumbled.

He was vaguely aware that Skinner was still staring at him, and
caught his full attention when he said, "take off your shirt."

Mulder's mouth opened a moment before twisting into another
sarcastic smirk. "I didn't realize I was your type." He quipped,
loosening the knot in his tie.

"Just shut up and do it, or I get Kimberly in here to chaperone."
Skinner said with annoyance.

The indirect lighting wasn't much for examination, but there were
several more marks on Mulder's chest and arms, notably two large,
roundish red and yellow scrapes on both of his elbows. Skinner
pulled his arm up and examined the marks more closely, chewing on
the inside of his cheek as he did so. They were different from the
the dark scab on his his lip. However, they were similar to the
marks on Scully's cheek and forehead. For the Assistant Director a
picture was beginning to appear, and like a polaroid, the image grew
clearer the longer you watched it.

Skinner had moved around behind him and Mulder knew there would be
no hiding the evidence that the A.D. would find there. Closing his
eyes, he stood still, waiting for the inevitable. Damnation or
absolution.

Skinner let out a long, slow breath.

There were eight long scratches across Mulder's back, four over each
shoulder blade. Not enough to draw blood initially, but the break
in skin caused an eventual scab to form just the same. Just above
those there were eight corresponding crescent-shaped red marks. And
above that, on the right tendon running from his neck to his
shoulder, was the unmistakable red and purple bruise that can be
attributed to only one thing.

Teeth.

He hadn't felt it at the time. Just seconds after her fist had
collided with his face Mulder had shoved Scully against the alley
wall, eyes blazing and nostrils flaring. Then all Hell broke loose
and they were flailing, pushing, clawing and devouring each other,
seven long years of attraction, devotion and unresolved sexual
tension exploding in their faces. They'd resolved it right then in
their overcoats, against the alley wall, her pantyhose and panties
ripped from her body and discarded in the dirty snow and his pants
and boxers down around his ankles. Neither gave a second or even a
first thought to the filth and the smell, or that fact that someone
might discover them at any moment. She'd marked him with her mouth
and her hands and her scent and he'd done the same, possessing and
claiming what had always been promised but never delivered.

They'd taken it home to Scully's, the unbelievably warm space in
front of her fireplace and the slow erotic pace the complete
antithesis of their previous encounter. Not the emotion, though.
She laved over his swollen lip as she murmured her apologies while
his fingers gently traced the swelling flesh around her eye. She
worshiped him with her mouth, and with the preservation of his
tender back in mind he told her to roll over, pushing her into the
unforgiving rug underneath them as they lost themselves in each
other for the second time that evening.

He wore his battle scars like a crown, for they were unrefutable
proof that it had happened. When the Assistant Director stepped
back around his desk and sat down without making eye contact, he
pulled his shirt on silently, his head held high. The shirt was
buttoned, the tails tucked in and the tie looped over his head when
Skinner asked quietly, "the limp?"

Mulder's proud face softened, his eyes warm and the corners of his
mouth turned up in a gentle smile as he shrugged. "I don't always
look where I step."

Skinner paused, then picked up his pen and began writing on the
document in front of him, a slight flush across his face and head.
After a moment, without looking up, he said, "that will be all,
Agent."


Kimberly looked up from her monitor as Agent Mulder stepped out of
the office, closing the door behind him. He said 'hi' with a polite
smile as he swiftly passed by, and she returned the smile with a
polite smile of her own, turning back to the computer screen.

In all of the years she'd worked with Assistant Director Skinner,
she thought she'd seen it all. People coming and going, some she
knew, some she didn't. The Assistant Director remained calm through
it all, and she could count on one hand the number of times she'd
seen him lose his composure. Most of those incidents involved
either Agent Mulder or Agent Scully or both, so it was less of a
surprise for her to hear an unusual sound filtering out to her
through the door of his office, considering the circumstances.

She'd heard the rumors that were circulating around the Bureau, and
she'd seen the damage on Agents Mulder and Scully. She knew it was
only a matter of time before they would be called up to the boss's
office for an explanation. But the sound coming from the Assistant
Director's office was so unusual, so foreign, that she stood up and
walked over to the door, pressing her ear against it and knocking
gently before stepping inside.

"Sir?" She said tentatively, her face covered in concern as she
stood in the doorway, her hand still on the doorknob.

The Assistant Director sat in his chair, his back turned to the door
and his broad shoulders shaking silently. Kimberly took a step
closer, then hesitated. "Sir?" She said again, a little louder.

Then she heard the unusual noise again, it's tenor growing louder
and stronger until the Assistant Director turned in his chair and
faced her, his teeth flashing in a straight white line as he laughed
a full-bellied, out and out rolling laugh that made his upper body
shake.

"What is it, Kim?" He asked with a grin, his eyes shining
mirthfully behind round lenses, still chuckling to himself.

"Is everything alright?" She asked, smiling, although her face
still showed her puzzlement.

"Everything is just fine." He replied, turning back to his desk as
the last of the chuckles escaped his chest. "Wrong damn rumor." He
said under his breath, chuckling again.

"Sir?" Kimberly said, not quite understanding.

He drew in a deep breath and let it out, regaining his composure.
"It's nothing, Kim."

She paused, her mouth pressed into a non-committal line, and turned
to leave.

"Oh...Kim?" The Assistant Director called just as she was starting
to close the door.

"Yes, Sir?" She said, stepping into the office once more.

"Send a box of chocolates up to Assistant Director Cassidy with this
message; 'Next time have a chocolate instead'."

Kimberly's brow furrowed, but she recovered quickly. "Anything
else, Sir?"

He looked up, giving her a kind smile. "That will be all."

She stepped out of the office once more, closing the door behind
her.

Okay...

She drew in a breath and let it out slowly, and with a shake of her
head, sat back down in front of her computer to finish her current
project before looking up the number of the nearest confectioner
that delivers.


beduini@geocities.com
http://www.geocities.com/Area51/Starship/9769/


Okay, first of all, I have to apologize for yet another cartoon
reference. Between work and a two year-old who shouts 'cartee
toons!' in my face the minute I walk in the door, these types of
references more readily spring to mind of late.

Watch for my next story, an X-Files/Rugrats crossover. Mulder and
Scully get called in to investigate the strange abduction of Tommy
Pickles and Mulder relates it to the abduction of his missing
sister. Scully struggles with the emotional strain of dealing with
Angelica and the memory of her lost daughter, Emily. Chuckie is the
only one who can help them, effectively overcoming his fear of the
potty in the process.

Kidding!

The idea for this story came from that commercial that morphs every
couple of seconds slightly changing the perspective each time (car
commercial I think, the one that plays a rip-off, legal or
otherwise, of The Nails' 88 Lines About 44 Women). Does it work for
you? And a quote I read which may or may not have been from Gillian
Anderson - something about her imagining that 'it' would probably
occur following an explosion rather than from any romantic event
after all these years. If you know of the specific quote and can
confirm its source, please let me know!