Isolation (2/16)
by ML 

email: msnsc21@yahoo.com
Rating: PG13 for mild violence and swearing

Type: Gen, het. M&S, a character/other pairing 
Disclaimer: You know the tune, sing it with me now: I don't own
them, I'm just borrowing for a while.  The original characters:
they're mine, all mine.

Author's Notes: This was written for the 2010 XF BigBang.  
I couldn't have done it without Wendy's expert beta.  Bouquets 
of thanks to her! That said, if there are any errors or omissions, 
that's my fault.  More notes at the end of the story.  

Summary: It's time to come out of hiding and get back to the
business of saving the world.  Mulder is looking for people to help
him and Scully do just that.  With so many of his former friends and
colleagues either missing or dead, he gets help from an unexpected
quarter -- and finds that he's not the only one who's ready to get
back into circulation.   

Takes place in 2008, after the events of "I Want to Believe".

We never gave up, we never will.  In the end, if that's the best
they can say about us, it'll do.
-John Fitzgerald Byers

x-x-x

Chapter Two

"Mr. Mulder, Sir."  Kimberly smiled and held the door to the inner
office open for Mulder.

Skinner's admin had moved on up with him, Mulder noted.  It was nice
to see a familiar face.  The first trip back to D.C. had been nothing
short of surreal.  Everything and nothing had changed.  The building
smelled the same way, and except for different pictures of the
Commander in Chief and the Director, everything looked the same 
too.  

It had all been subtly different, too.  It was weird being on the
outside looking in when he and Scully came in their civvies; they
were so obviously not agents or even visitors from another government
agency.

This time, he wore a suit.  He wasn't quite sure why he'd made the
effort, but when he noticed the difference in the vibe he got as he
walked down the hall, it seemed worth it.  He'd never cared when he'd
been an agent; that was the difference between being an insider and
an outsider, he supposed.  For all that he'd been considered an
oddball within the Bureau, he'd been one of them.

Skinner stood up and came around his desk to shake Mulder's hand. 
"Good to see you, Ag-Mulder," he said.  "Have a seat."  He gestured
to the seating area away from the desk.  This was different too. 
"Things have changed since you, uh, left, as I'm sure you've noticed.
When Kersh retired last year, I found that I was on the short list
for Deputy Director."

"So I see.  Congratulations.  Or condolences?"

"It has its upside and its downside.  I get this great office, and
lots of people sucking up to me; on the other hand, I still have to
shovel plenty of bureaucratic BS.  It's just at a higher level."

"Good to know.  I'd hate to think that your affiliation with a
disgraced agent slowed your meteoric rise."

"Yeah, all this happened despite your best efforts to the contrary."
 Skinner showed his teeth briefly, and the sight was so unexpected it
took Mulder a second to realize Skinner was smiling.  "You were a
pain in the ass, Mulder, but I could count on your sincerity.  You
were definitely not a suckup."

"Thanks, I think.  Is there another shoe about to drop?"

"Part of the upside is that I have a certain amount of leeway to
bring in outside experts.  To direct that certain lines of
investigation are followed.  There are standards to be met, but
things are different now."

"Yeah, new sheriff in town and all that.  I assume that's why you
wanted to see me."  

"Have you thought about my suggestion?"

"Consulting for the FBI?  I'm not sure that's what I'm best suited
for right now."

"I think the Monica Bannan case says otherwise.  The FBI needs
someone with your expertise."

"It would be moonlighting, at best.  Besides, without my partner,
you wouldn't be getting the best of me.  Scully has a day job, and so
do I."

"I know about Dana's job.  What about yours?"

"Saving the world."  It sounded funny, even to him, but it got the
attention he wanted.

"Saving the world," Skinner repeated.  "Do you mean, in the literal
sense?"

"'They' are still out there, I'm certain of it.  And that means I
have to do something about it."

"How can you be sure?"

"Do you want to take the chance I'm wrong?  You've seen things,
things you've said you can't deny.  Explain Knowle Rohrer reappearing
after I supposedly 'murdered' him.  Explain how he blew up in New
Mexico."

"I can't.  Oddly, the incidents seemed to stop around the same time
you and Scully went into hiding.  To my knowledge, there have been no
similar incidents since then.  How do you explain that?"

"I have some theories, but I don't think I want to talk about them
in your office, if you don't mind.  Let's go get some lunch.  I have
something to show you." 

As they walked through the halls of the Hoover Building to the
elevator, not a few heads turned to watch.  Mulder was sure that
there was a good deal of speculation about what he was doing with the
Deputy Director, whether or not they recognized him from before.   

"Nice ride," Skinner remarked as they got to Mulder's SUV.  It was a
twin to Scully's.

"I heard it was what all the cool kids were driving now.  You should
see our block.  Every house has one; the only difference is the make
and color.  The guys like to compare."

"How do you know all this?"

Mulder shrugged.  "I like to fit in." 

Skinner snorted in disbelief.  "Since when?"

"Since I was in hiding for six years," Mulder reminded him.  "To
survive in the wild, you've got to blend in."

They stopped at a deli Skinner pointed out, continuing on to Takoma
Park.  Before long, they were in an area that had seen better days. 
The economic downturn had definitely hit here.  Large windowless
buildings and moribund strip malls dominated the landscape.  A faded
sign on one corner proclaimed the property to be the future home of
"Takoma Lofts."

A few blocks further, in an area that had mostly abandoned-looking
properties, Mulder pulled into a weedy, trash-scattered parking lot
and up to the loading dock of one of the more disreputable buildings.
"Recognize anything?" he asked Skinner.

The big rolling door on the dock was chained with a serious-looking
lock.  A smaller, person-sized door was next to the larger one, made
of riveted steel with an arrow-slit window.  There were six different
locks on the door, one new-looking one with a keypad.  A small sign
threatened trespassers with prosecution to the fullest extent of the
law.  Above the door was a security camera, its lens spray-painted
over.

"Hang on." Mulder produced a card from his wallet and inserted it
into the lock, punching a series of numbers into the keypad.  The
door clicked and he pushed it open, revealing a grubby anteroom.

"What is this place?"  Skinner asked.

Mulder didn't answer right away, surprised by the wave of fresh
grief he felt.  He'd been here a couple of times since he took over
the place, but it hadn't gotten easier.  Although he'd had six years
to process it, coming here, seeing what had happened to the place
that had been their home for as long as he'd known them,  made the
deaths of his friends immediate and real.  Scully hadn't been here
yet, and probably wouldn't come until it was absolutely necessary.  

He started to speak and choked a little, his throat thick with 
sorrow.

"You okay, Mulder?"

Mulder cleared his throat.  "Yeah, I'm just peachy."  He unlocked
the door leading into the main building.    "Welcome to my man cave,
formerly known as the headquarters of "The Magic Bullet."

"Oh," Skinner said.  

Mulder led the way in.  Once fully inside, the feeling of
familiarity ended.  The main floor of the warehouse was stripped
almost bare.  A few empty racks stood along one wall.  The piles of
equipment and other detritus that had made the place feel like a 
high-tech cave were all gone.

The walls that had separated the main floor from the living quarters
stood bare.  Those rooms had been cleaned out, too.  The ratty little
kitchen where Frohike used to make huevos rancheros had been gutted. 
The vast, echoing main floor of the warehouse was empty, nothing but
dust motes drifting in the weak sunshine from painted-over windows
high on the walls.  

In the center of what used to be the kitchen stood a large wooden
table and several mismatched chairs.

"What are we doing here?"  Skinner asked.

"It's the headquarters of the Resistance, such as it is.  I told you
I had a day job.  Pull up a chair, Walter.  This is the executive
dining room."

"Let me get this straight," Skinner said.  "Resistance to what?"

Mulder didn't answer, just looked at Skinner.

"You're launching a resistance to an alien invasion?"

"I don't think that the danger has gone away simply because you
can't see it.  I've done what I can the past several years to
research and monitor.  Until recently, my ability to investigate has
been severely limited."

"There hasn't been any activity.  Agents Doggett and Reyes have been
keeping an eye out."

"No offense, but do they know what they're looking for?"

"Knowle Rohrer was John Doggett's friend, before he was, uh, 'taken
over'," Skinner pointed out.  "Doggett saw him destroyed in New
Mexico."

"Yeah, okay.  Do you think he was the only one?  Do you think he's
really gone this time?  Not to mention we have no idea who else is
out there, who's unknown to us?  We might be able to keep tabs on
anyone who's a 'friend', sure.  What about others?"

"How do you expect to find out if there are others?  You've just
suggested we have no way of knowing who's out there who could be a
threat.  There's no evidence."

"I think I can prove you wrong.  I just need time and resources, and
access to data."    

"What about Dana?  Is she on board with this, too?"

"Scully's focus is elsewhere right now.  She needs to keep a low
profile."  He didn't feel the need to go into the long nights they'd
spent discussing their options and the reasons for the decisions
they'd made right now.  "She'll help where she can.  I'm running the
operation right now and I'm looking for resources.  If that means
working for the FBI, so be it."

"Just to be clear, what you're asking is not so much for a job, as
for the use of the FBI's resources, is that correct?" Skinner asked,
using his most tight-assed tone.  "I have a boss to answer to, and
need justification for expenditures."

"I think I can prove that there's a credible threat.  For that, I
need access.  Not just to the FBI.  I'll need data from other
agencies as well."

"Even if I could get approval for your project, short of hacking
into the FBI database, you're not likely to gain the level of access
you're talking about."

"I wouldn't be asking if I had another way.  The guys I used to rely
on for analyzing data like this, how to find it and put two and two
together were Langly, Byers, and Frohike."  Mulder looked around the
emptiness.  "Even if Elvis is still alive, it does appear that the
Gunmen have left the building."

"I don't know how to help you, Mulder.  Really, I don't.  Did you
think I'd be able to give you another answer away from the Hoover
Building?  There's got to be some quid pro quo."

"How is it that the bad guys always seem to get the access they need
and the resources necessary? Because they don't follow protocol;
because they find a way around the rules and regulations.  Maybe it's
also because they have the power to circumvent them, or they find
someone who can.  They have someone who believes in their cause; or
maybe only someone who can be coerced or bribed into helping them." 
Mulder gave a mirthless laugh.  "I'm not here to coerce or to bribe
you.  I thought we were on the same page."

Skinner looked annoyed.  "I'm no good to you if I'm found guilty of
using FBI resources for my own ends.  You know how it works.  If you
can get me some proof, some data so that I can make a case, then I
can help.  Otherwise, there's not much I can do."

"It's a real Catch-22, isn't it?  Maybe I thought that the Gunmen
kung fu was still present in their former haunt."  Mulder paused,
remembering the visions he'd had of them while he and Scully were on
the run.  His subconscious had played a lot of tricks on him, telling
him things he already knew, in the form of manifestations of people
from his past.  The visions had stopped once he and Scully had
stopped running.

As another FBI agent had said to him recently, the past was the
past.  He had to deal with present realities.  

"Well, I appreciate you coming all this way out here.  I'd better
get you back to the office before they discover you're conspiring
with a crackpot."

"Mulder --" as Skinner started to speak an alarm bell rang suddenly,
startling them both.  "Were you expecting anyone?"

"No," said Mulder, as he reached for the gun that hadn't been there
in more than six years. 

Skinner pulled his.  "I've got your back."

Mulder wished that the video surveillance was hooked up.  Who knew
about this place besides them?  Some of the Gunmen's former
colleagues were obsessive, but he didn't think they'd just show up
here.

"Who is it?"  Mulder shouted through the door.

"No one you know," said the voice.  "Morris Fletcher's the name. 
You'll want to let me in.  I'm not armed."

Mulder turned to see Skinner standing behind him, in firing stance. 
He nodded silently.  Very slowly he undid the locks on the door, one
by one, and opened it, using the door as a shield.

In front of them stood a man of average height, slightly barrel-
chested.  He was middle-aged with a receding hairline, and he stood,
arms held out from his sides, palms showing.  He wore a trench coat
over a black suit, and he had a smirk on his face.

"You don't know me.  I knew some friends of yours," he said.  "I
have some information that might interest you.  Can I come in?"

~*~

Continued in Chapter Three