EMXC 1st Year fanfic- October 1, 1994 thru October 1, 1995 Archived: 10/01/95 ============================================================== Crossing The Line (part 3) An X-Files Story - NC-17 by Jennifer Lyon Jenni10647@aol.com Jennyann@ix.netcom.com 05/21/95 Disclaimer: The characters of the X-Files, and all rights thereto, belong to FOX, 1013 Productions, and Chris Carter. PLEASE READ THIS: First, I want to say upfront, and for the record, (in light of recent events) - that this story is meant in NO WAY to downplay the deadly seriousness of bombs and their effects. In fact that very seriousness is vital to the story. However, if you are at all sensitive on the subject, I strongly suggest that you skip this story. Stop now! You are hereby WARNED - so do not flame me if you ignore my warning. Second: as well as containing some violence, this story contains adult sexual activity in detail. This is important to the story - but is only a small part of it. Third: This story will be disturbing! It is meant to be. So again, you are warned in advance. And finally: The episode "One Breath" brings Mulder within the squeeze of a finger from stepping over the edge, but allows Scully, and his love for her, to bring him back. The question I address here is: what happens when it is Scully who is driven past her limits; when it is Scully who is ready to cross the line... They burst out of the building, Mulder leading, Scully a few feet behind, his long legs eating up the ground at break-neck speed. By the time she caught up, he was already lifting the bike off the ground. As she neared, he revved the engine to life, nearly screaming with frustration as it sputtered and died, burst to life, then sputtered and died again. Just as Scully climbed up into his lap, it finally started and held. Wrapping one hand around her, hugging her close, he maneuvered the bike towards the broken gate. Scully let the machine gun hang loose on her shoulder and grabbed onto him, holding on for dear life as they careened toward the gate. "Scully!" his voice screamed in her ear, his eyes never leaving the road. Turning her head, she saw the guard running towards them from the gate, and she reached for the machine gun. Mulder drove straight for the blue-clad, bulky man, the headlights illuminating the insignia on his jacket, pushing the bike to its top speed. Shots rang out towards them as he fired, causing Mulder to swing the bike sideways. As the bike tipped to its side, angling around the man, Scully opened fire, the gun's recoil pressing her back against Mulder, his body absorbing the shock from hers. Then they were through the gate and out on the open road. A quick glance over his shoulder, confirmed for Scully that her shots had been true, and she sank back against Mulder with a mix of relief and disbelief, exhaustion and elation, rushing through her mind. Mulder pushed the bike hard, angling off on side roads in order to avoid incoming police cars. The route was slower, but safer, and the ride was quick. Less than a mile from the hotel, they dove into the woods, pushing their way through the underbrush until they had to get off the bike and push it. Just as they had reached the lake-shore that was their goal, the ground rumbled, a loud distant roar thundering into the night. Even through the dense tree-tops they could see the flare of light in the distance, and they both froze. After the initial sudden blast, things were quieter at this distance, and the sound of their heaving lungs soon dominated the night. Then, moving almost like robots performing programmed tasks, they tipped the motorcycle into the lake, watching the watery mud bubble around it as it sank. The guns were dumped next, the heavy metal sinking quickly into the thick mire. Then they walked around the water's edge for nearly a mile until they hit a path leading up towards the motel. Moving like shadows, they slipped into the bathroom window of the room, and began to strip. The gloves and clothes went into the bathtub for a good soaking in bleach. They used the sink to scrub at their bodies with soap and hot water, the cleansing done more for psychological than physical reasons. Neither had spoken a word yet, neither knew what to say. Finally, after drying themselves with the courtesy towels, they washed the bleach away, replacing it with a flood of water. Then clothes were then left to drain, while they went back into the main room without a word. Both were still stark-naked, and hardly concerned with that fact. Mulder sat himself on the edge of the bed with a sigh, burying his face in his hands, while Scully went to the window and using the drapes as a shield, stared out at the far-distant blaze that lit up the night sky. Shivering slightly, she hugged herself, her eyes focused out of the window, as the tears began to flow silently down her cheeks. Mulder noticed only the shaking of her shoulders, but he was behind her in an instant. "Scully...?" he closed his hands around her shoulders. His touch on her bare skin broke the final barrier, and she broke into loud, convulsing sobs, pressing herself into his embrace. "Scully..." he murmured against her hair, tightening his grip on her. Leaning his cheek against the top of her head, he closed his eyes, squeezing out a few salty tears of his own. In the end there wasn't triumph, or even any satisfaction. He felt sick and shaky inside, and he could feel the grief that wracked her body as it convulsed against him. They stayed in their embrace for a long time, until her sobs lessened into a quieter weeping. He swung her up into his arms and carried her to the bed they had abandoned barely two hours ago - though it seemed like a lifetime ago. Sweeping the covers aside, he laid her down gently on the mattress, brushing the hair off her face tenderly. As she felt him move away, she reached for him, grasping onto his arms. "No," she pleaded. "Fox...." "I'm here," he said, getting into bed beside her, and pulling the covers up over them both. She curled up against his side, twining her arms around him. As she pressed her mouth against his cheek, she whispered. "Make love to me, Fox." "Shhh," he replied, rolling his head over so that they were face to face. Bending closer he licked at her still moist cheeks, tasting her tears, then he claimed her mouth with the heat of his. - - - - - Where the sprawling, three story building, with its pink-painted walls and massive glass panes had stood nestled in flowering bushes, green lawns, and rows of trees, there was now a scene of utter destruction. A leveled pile of embers still smoldered, overlain with a sparkling sheen of shattered glass. Here and there, a piece of foundation still stood upright, or bent at odd angles. Bits and pieces were strewn for yards, some barely recognizable, others charred and melted into a shapeless blobs. Men were sorting through the wreckage, crawling over it like ants on spilled ice cream, picking up and discarding fragments, one or two shouts ringing out when something even possibly human was found. Mulder and Scully were both grim as they drove up to the shattered gate. A local police officer stopped them, motioning them to park the car off the side of the road in response to their badges. Mulder eased the car behind a police cruiser and shut off the engine in silence. They exited the car in unison, and walked briskly back towards the gate, nodding at the officer who let them through without question, his young face bearing a look of shocked disbelief. They edged around the chalk-lined spot where the last guard's body had fallen, Scully shivering slightly as the memory flashed before her eyes. "You okay, Scully?" Mulder whispered in her ear. "Yeah, Mulder, I'm fine." Her voice was steady, but her eyes were haunted. As they both strode forward to look at the devastation they had wrought the night before, he rested a hand on the small of her back - a slight touch - but it was enough. They both knew what had to be done - the role they had to play. Whatever regrets haunted their hearts and souls, the deed was done. "Sheriff," Mulder called out to the tall, cadaverous man they had met briefly the previous day. When he approached them, his sigh of irritation was nearly audible, his gaunt features tightening as he came up beside them. Knowing that it was vital to take control, Mulder challenged the other man first, his voice as sharp as a knife's edge. "Why weren't we called immediately?" "We've been a bit busy, Agent..." The sheriff deliberately managed to forget the FBI man's name, having no desire to deal with the Feds. They had given him a headache the day before, which was quickly erupting into a migraine. It was bad enough that he'd lost a friend in this disaster, the idea of turning control of the investigation over to these two suits made him furious. "What happened here, Sheriff?" Scully's voice was cool and soft. The sheriff rubbed the back of his neck and eyed her for a moment. Dressed in a perfectly-tailored black suit, with a silky white blouse peeking underneath, her small feet were in low-heeled black pumps, her bright red hair was bound up in a tight chignon on the back of her head. Cool and professional - and obvious determined to interfere. Though if this was a terrorist bombing, he thought, then maybe he ought to dump it off on this woman and her GQ-model of a partner. Let them pick up this mess....but no. Jimmy had been on duty here last night, his body still lost somewhere in the ruins, and the sheriff was not about to leave the capturing of his friend's killers to anyone else. They were both waiting for an answer, staring at him like he was some kind of backwoods idiot. Straightening his back, the sheriff spoke up briskly, not bothering to hide the hostility in his voice. "Near as we can tell someone broke in here, armed with machine guns, and blew up the place. We only just got the fire under control less than an hour ago, so we haven't had time to pull much out of it yet." He turned to look at the destruction behind him, and added, with a touch of sadness. "And I doubt there'll be much left to find." Then he spun back to the two agents, his eyes narrowing. "What do you two know about this? Does it have anything to do with your investigation? If you knew that this might happen..." "How were we supposed to know that?" Mulder shot out, then his face shuttered, and he continued in a flat voice. "We were investigating possible health and safety violations, relating to the deaths of three scientists associated with Pink Pharmaceuticals over the past year. The evidence we needed was most likely in there," he inclined his head towards the demolished building. "Without it, our investigation is at a stand-still..." He let his voice trail off, leaving the implications open. Had the bomb been set to destroy the evidence? "What kind of violations?" the sheriff started to ask, when he was interrupted by a loud voice. "Agent Mulder, Agent Scully!" Both looked over their shoulders, their stomachs sinking at the sight of the familiar man striding towards them, thick and heavy with a large bald spot on the top of his head, trailed by three more men, all in dark suits and sunglasses, all with "FBI" practically branded on their foreheads. Mulder and Scully exchanged quick glances of surprise, then Mulder stepped forward. Spaulding!" he said, with apparent heartiness. "Didn't know you had been reassigned to this part of the country!" Spaulding glared up at the taller agent. "I haven't been reassigned" he started to explain, then broke off, and began again. "Agent Mulder," he said formally, "Assistant Director Skinner wishes to see you and Agent Scully in his office as soon as possible. He assigned us to escort you there immediately." "Did he indeed?" Mulder muttered under his breath, brow crinkling in concentration. Well, actually not too surprising, he considered, though Skinner must be REALLY mad to send out the goon squad. Mulder couldn't help feeling a touch of amusement, however, wondering how Skinner would react if he knew the truth... Spaulding bristled at the mischievous smile that broke out on 'Spooky' Mulder's face. Did the man ever take anything seriously? But before he could say another word, Scully broke in, stepping up beside her partner briskly, eyeing the balding agent with obvious distaste. "If you hadn't noticed, Spaulding, we're in the middle of a situation here. We can't go running off to Washington every time the A.D. snaps his finger, and still be expected to get our job done." "Maybe not, Agent Scully," Spaulding replied, eyeing her with a mix of frustrated desire and irritation. "But the Assistant Director was quite ADAMANT that you return immediately." "That was before the bombing" Mulder argued, in his most reasonable voice. "I'm sure that once you explain what happened, he'll understand. As soon as we have the situation here under control, we'll report in." They didn't really want to postpone the return to Washington, but there was no way they were going to roll over and play dead for Skinner, and certainly not for Spaulding. Besides, it would look funny if they gave in too easily. Spaulding felt his stomach turn over, he was definitely getting an ulcer, and getting chewed out by an angry A.D. over some unstated trouble caused by these two had not helped. And if that weren't enough the A.D. had forced him to come play baby-sitter to this pair of renegade agents, wasting his time and that of three of his men, as though they didn't have anything better to do than play fetch. Not to mention appearing as fools in front of the local law enforcement, a member of which was watching this exchange with obvious amusement. Mulder and Scully stood their ground, gazing at him calmly, refusing to move an inch. Both had encountered 'balding' Spaulding before, and neither had any liking or respect for him. Mulder was quietly branding the man a fool, Scully was remembering with extreme distaste a pass he had made at her at an Academy party. The memory made her queasy, and she favored Spaulding with her very best look of icy disdain. That was the last straw as far as he was concerned. Ignoring the chuckles from the sheriff, he puffed himself up and told them with ringing authority. "The Assistant Director instructed me to escort you back, and I quote 'either willingly or hand-cuffed and hog-tied' unquote. And he doesn't care which." For the first time since the previous afternoon's session in Skinner's office, Spaulding found himself able to smile. Watching them with a smug expression in his small, pale blue eyes, he asked them triumphantly. "Which will it be?" Mulder found that too good an opening to pass up. Baring his teeth in a brilliant smile, he leaned down towards Scully. "Hmmm, what do you think, Scully? Feel like a little bondage?" Though her face remained serious, her eyes sparkled as she glanced consideringly from Mulder to Spaulding, and back again. "Ahhh, maybe later, Mulder. IF you're a very good boy." Tapping his cheek with a fingertip, she turned and walked away. Mulder shrugged and followed her towards the car, leaving a gaping-mouthed Spaulding standing beside an openly chuckling sheriff. - - - - - "What the hell did you two think you were doing!?!?" Assistant Director Skinner raged at the two agents standing defiantly in front of his desk. "Our jobs, Sir," Scully replied blandly. "Your jobs? I have no recollection of assigning you to go around investigating Pink Pharmaceuticals! In fact, I have a distinct memory of telling you to leave this alone, Agent Mulder." Skinner was furious. He gave them orders for good reason. When on earth was Mulder ever going to start listening? Skinner sighed at himself for thought - Mulder might listen when hell froze over - but probably not a moment sooner. "The evidence was there, if we'd had more time we could have gotten it!" Mulder protested, his hazel eyes blazing with characteristic fervor. "We were close," Scully seconded. "I'm certain that a couple of the employees were ready to talk..." "Enough!" Skinner yelled. He took a deep breath, instantly bringing himself under control. In a soft, but biting tone, he continued. "I told you to let this go for good reason. Instead you disobeyed my direct order, disappeared from your present assignment without warning, and then got involved with the bombing of a prestigious pharmaceutical company." "Prestigious?" Mulder's voice dripped with sarcasm. "Isn't deadly a better word." "The case involving the prison epidemic is closed Agent Mulder. Finished. Do I make myself clear!" Mulder's face slammed shut, his eyes blazing, his jaw clamping tight. "Un-der-stood," he enunciated. Beside him, Scully nodded, her face betraying no emotion. "Good," Skinner replied, "Now how about explaining to me how Pink Pharmaceuticals got burnt to the ground less than a day after you two arrive in town." "I'd like an answer to that also," came a voice from the shadows behind them. Mulder and Scully both turned, their expressions remaining closed and grim. "Perhaps, YOU could tell US," Mulder attacked angrily. The figure leaning back in its chair, shrugged. "I wasn't there, Agent Mulder. But somehow, you were..." "I certainly hope you don't think WE had anything to do with that, Sir." Scully turned to Skinner, speaking with sing-song sincerity. Skinner frowned, he'd heard that tone from her once before, and he knew she'd been lying though her teeth. But surely, they couldn't... But before he could finish the train of thought, Mulder interrupted. "Blowing up buildings is hardly our style," he said bitingly. "And we lost our last chance of getting evidence to prove Pink Pharmaceuticals involvement in infecting those convicts when the building was destroyed. Rather convenient, don't you think?" He threw a burning glance at the shadowed man, then turned back towards Skinner. The FBI Assistant Director was not happy to admit it, but Mulder had a point. Frowning, he glared at the annoying intruder still seated in the corner, wishing there was a way to get rid of him for good. Unfortunately, that was only likely to occur when Mulder was gone too, and despite the younger man's ability to cause immense trouble wherever he went, Skinner still liked him, more than he wanted to admit. But protecting him was getting more and more difficult - especially when he had to be protected from himself. Seeing the uncertainty on her superior's face, Scully quickly volunteered, "If you'd like us to go back and investigate it, Sir, we'd be glad to go immediately." "NO!" Skinner insisted. "If I find either one of you within thirty miles of the place, I'll have you transcribing bank fraud surveillance tapes for the next three months!" That threat got the expected grimaces, and he sat back with some slight satisfaction. Still, he was definitely feeling uneasy. But there was nothing more he could do except to try to get them occupied on something less likely to cause trouble. Reaching for the top file on his desk, barely glancing at the case identification, he handed it out to Mulder. "Here, this is your next assignment," he growled. "Now get moving!" "Yes, Sir!" Mulder took the file in one hand, executing a mockery of a military salute with the other. Without another word, Mulder and Scully walked together out the door, though not without giving it a good, loud slam behind them. - - - - - They headed for the external grounds of FBI headquarters by unspoken agreement. Ending up below the same oak tree they had stood under only a few short days before, they stood for a moment in complete silence. Then Scully angled her head up at her partner and commented as though she were talking about the weather, "Looks like he bought it." "Yeah," Mulder answered. Conversation died, and they stood together in an uneasy silence. Finally, Scully broke the spell. "It all seems so unreal. Like I dreamed it." "I know," Mulder replied. "But it was real." He stared pensively up at the building. "I just wonder if we accomplished anything." Scully wanted to tell him that they had accomplished a lot, but the words stuck in her throat and wouldn't come out. Had they done more than become criminals themselves? Suddenly she wasn't so sure. Six men were dead, a building lay in ruins, and what did they have to show for it? The satisfaction of revenge? Yes, there was a certain cold comfort in knowing they had succeeding in damaging the enemy, but how much, and for how long? Instead of triumph, they were left with empty questions, no answers - in effect right back where they started. No, she told herself, not back where they had begun. They had both learned a lot about themselves, about their own capabilities, about their own internal darkness. They had lost what had remained of their innocence. A tear found its way down her cheek, and she brushed it away with the back of her hand. Then she glanced up at Mulder's grimly-set, beautifully-carved features, focused intently on the air between them and the building, and felt a small rush of warmth. At least they had each other; they were committed utterly and without reservation, all the barriers broken down. She knew they would suffer for what they had done, probably for the rest of their lives, that neither would ever be the same again, but as long as he was with her, she knew she could handle it. As long as they were together, they could handle anything. Reaching out to twine her fingers through his, feeling his hand convulse around hers, gripping it tightly, she allowed herself a faint smile. "Come on, Mulder," she said. "We've got work to do." Side-by-side they walked back into the building, the small manila file folder tucked haphazardly under Mulder's arm, a grainy photo peeking out of the corner, exposing the battered and bloody face of a teenage girl. - - - - - Skinner winced at the sound of the slamming door, then advanced on the seated figure. "I had better not find out that you or your people were involved in that bombing..." he threatened. Standing up lazily, the other man smiled menacingly. "Save the threats, Assistant Director. We had nothing to do with it." He strode for the door, opened it, then paused and turned. "The question remains, just how much did Mulder and Scully have to do with it." He turned and left. Skinner sat back down on his desk, reaching under his wire-rimmed glasses to rub at his eyes in exhaustion. "How much indeed?" His mind ran in circles, nauseau rising in his throat, then he shut his thoughts down fiercely. It just wasn't possible, he told himself firmly, not Mulder and Scully. Dismissing his doubts, he reached for the next unsolved case on his desk, opened the file and began to read. The End.