Isolation (3/16) 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 Three Mulder and Skinner led Morris Fletcher into the main part of the building. "Love what you've done to the place," Fletcher looked around. "Oh, am I too late for lunch?" He gestured to the drink cups and sandwich remains on the table. "I think you should state your business," Skinner said. "Once again, I'm Morris Fletcher," the man said, sticking out his hand. "You must be Deputy Director Skinner. Congratulations on your promotion, by the way. And you," he said with a grin, turning to Mulder, "are the famous Fox Mulder. We've met before, briefly. I've heard so much about you, I feel I know you already." Mulder didn't take the proffered hand. "Who are you again, and what do you want?" The face was familiar but other than a hackle-raising feeling of instant dislike, he couldn't place Morris Fletcher. "I used to work at a little place called Groom Lake," Fletcher said. "Name ring a bell?" "Groom Lake," Mulder repeated. Now he could match the face to the location. "You were one of the men in black who stopped us, weren't you?" "That's right. We prevented you and your lovely partner from spending years in the Federal pokey for aiding and abetting a traitor. No need to thank me, by the way." Skinner was starting to look interested in this. He glanced at Mulder, who decided that the less said about that little escapade the better. Mulder gestured for Fletcher to continue. "Anyway, to make a long story short, someone decided he needed to be a whistle-blower, and as a result they changed out the whole team. I went free-agent for a while. Now I'm back working for the good guys." Fletcher turned back to Skinner. "I worked with a couple of your agents a few years back. Agents John Doggett and Monica Reyes? He wasn't a barrel of monkeys. She was cool, though. Very new- agey." He made a floating gesture with his hands and grinned again. "Could you cut the crap and get to the point?" Skinner gritted out. "Okay, I get you, all business," Fletcher said jovially. "I hear you're trying to set up some kind of alien-detection agency here. I'm sure to most folks it would seem like a crackpot idea, but I'm not here to judge." "What are you here for?" Mulder asked. "What if I told you I had some guys who were every bit as good as your old friends? They've got the mojo you're looking for." "It's kung fu, you idiot," Mulder muttered. "How do you know what we're looking for?" "Word gets around," Fletcher said. "The M.I.B. community is a small, tight-knit group. Or it used to be. Things aren't the same anywhere, anymore." "Yeah," Mulder agreed. "If they'll let you in, they'll let just about anyone in." Skinner shifted a little, raising his gun toward Fletcher again. "Okay, okay!" Fletcher said. "I thought you'd appreciate a little of my C.V. -- since Mr. Mulder here doesn't trust me. Then, you don't really trust anyone, do you?" "You don't know what you're talking about," Mulder said. "On the contrary, I do, Fox." Fletcher shook his head. "Your folks didn't have much of a sense of irony, did they?" Skinner raised his gun a little higher. Fletcher heaved a huge sigh. "Here's the thing: I was there when your three friends -- the Gunmen? -- died." "Is that supposed to make me trust you?" Mulder asked. "No, I didn't expect it would. If it makes you feel better, they died as heroes. They saved the world that day, in their own way. I'm asking you to consider this: what if they didn't really die? What if they'd been saved?" "I don't have time for this," Mulder said. "If you're going to tell me that you've got clones or replicants for the guys, don't bother." "I'm talking about the genuine article," Fletcher insisted. "And I know where they are." Mulder launched himself at Fletcher. "You son of a bitch!" he yelled, getting Fletcher around the throat. Fletcher brought his knee up and hit Mulder in a sensitive spot, shoving him off and scrambling in the other direction. "Is that any way to treat someone who's bringing you good news?" he panted. "Really, now." Mulder groaned and got to his knees. Fortunately Fletcher had been a little off the mark, or he'd be lying in a fetal position right now. He surged to his feet and went for Fletcher again. "Hear me out before you start throwing punches!" Fletcher shouted. "Calm down! Skinner? Help me out a little?" "He doesn't work for me, and I'm inclined to hold you down while he hits you if you don't stop fucking around and get to the point." Skinner gestured with his gun. "Go sit down at the table. Now." "Okay, okay. Keep him away from me," Fletcher said. Mulder sat at the other end of the table, flexing his hand. Skinner sat between them and leaned back, holding his gun. Fletcher took a deep breath. "I work for an agency -- the name isn't important. Recently, I was put in charge of a program that had been abandoned a while back. I don't know why -- it worked, to an extent -- I guess the government was going through an austerity phase --" "Mr. Fletcher..." Skinner warned. "Anyway," Fletcher continued, "it had to do with selective memory wipes -- and the next logical step, which is overlaying new memories. We needed someone to try it out on, and I didn't think your guys would volunteer. So I appealed to their sense of duty." "Are you saying they volunteered?" Mulder asked. It seemed unlikely. "Well, once we'd saved their lives -- and we knew that no one would be missing them -- it seemed to us that they owed us. They'd have died from that gas if we hadn't stepped in." "What did you call it?" Skinner asked. "Selectively induced amnesia," Fletcher said. "We tried a version of it on you, Mr. Mulder. Do you remember Ellens Air Base?" "Yeah, I remember the case. Parts of it. Scully told me I was at the airbase. I don't remember that. Scully also told me they did something to me there." "They sure did," Fletcher chuckled. "At the time they didn't know if they could reverse the effect. It's still uncertain, frankly. So I guess you could say I 'borrowed' your pals for the next phase of the testing. We wanted to see if we could induce amnesia and then reverse it." Mulder half-rose from his seat, gripping the edge of the table hard with both hands. If he let go, he was sure he'd launch himself across the table and take Fletcher by the throat. "You've kept them alive all this time, you son of a bitch, so you can experiment on them?" "Oh, I'd say they're all fairly comfortable where they are," Fletcher said. "They don't remember anything, but they're safe. Maybe even in better circumstances than they'd have been if we'd just saved them and turned them loose." "Don't try to justify what you did," Mulder growled. "Just tell me where they are, and if you can restore their memories." Of all the surreal conversations he'd had over the years, this one was right up there. Fletcher was as smooth and polished as a salesman, right down to the rep tie. He could tell them the sun was shining and Mulder would look outside before believing him. "We don't know yet. We've been waiting for a suitable opportunity." "Why now?" "Well, this seemed like a good time to try it. If it works, great, and you get the help you need. If it doesn't, no harm, no foul." "Maybe not to you," Mulder said. "They've lost years of their lives, maybe even suffered permanent mental or physical damage. How did you do it? Drugs? Surgery?" "Hold your horses," Fletcher said. "Without me, they'd be dead. And I do have a certain reputation to uphold," Fletcher said. "I wouldn't knowingly harm them." "And what's in it for you?" Skinner asked. "I've made mistakes in the past, I admit it. Now I'm all about 'enlightened self-interest.' I know enough about what's going down to want to be on the side of the good guys. At least until the planet is saved. And it seems like you need some help. As you pointed out, the bad guys seem to get all the cool stuff and the access. I'm just trying to level the playing field." He grinned again, which Mulder found more and more annoying. "And, by the way, anyone can hear what you're talking about in here with a good parabolic mike. Just a word to the wise." "Go on," Mulder said, though he wanted to punch Fletcher in the face very, very badly. "What proof can you provide?" Skinner asked. "I knew you would ask," Fletcher said, reaching into his suit jacket. The two other men tensed. "Relax. I told you I wasn't armed." He pulled out an envelope and opened it, withdrawing some photos, which he threw on the table. Mulder looked at them closely while Skinner kept an eye on Fletcher. The photographs were mug-shot style, front and sides: someone who looked like John Byers, with his beard and mustache removed; a man who resembled Langly, minus his long blonde hair; and Frohike, who looked like -- Frohike. "We couldn't do much with the little guy," Fletcher said. "No matter what, he looked the same." "This proves nothing," Mulder said. "These photos could have been taken at any time, any day." "Yes, they could have," Fletcher agreed. "They weren't, though. Maybe a little trust is in order here? I'm not asking for anything in return." "That right there is a big red flag," Skinner murmured. "There's always a quid pro quo." "Well, I wouldn't mind looking like a hero for once. We can talk about that later. Besides, I said it's a crap shoot. We might not be able to restore their memories. I don't want to get your hopes up." Mulder looked at the photos and then back at Fletcher. "I want proof. Prove that these guys are who you say they are, and we'll talk." "Go ahead and keep the photos," Fletcher said. "I'll be back with something more concrete. No, don't get up -- I'll see myself out." x-x-x The last time she saw Mulder in the corridor of a hospital, Scully had already heard the bad news. This time, rather than mournful looking, his face was blank. "Mulder, what's wrong?" Scully took his arm and led him into her office. Once inside, he seemed at a loss. He sat, head in hands. Scully closed the door and told her assistant to hold her calls. "Mulder? How did the meeting with Skinner go?" "Not as I expected. We got some news." He withdrew the photos from his pocket. "Good, or bad?" "I don't know yet." He handed the photos to Scully. x-x-x "What else did he tell you?" Scully asked, once they were home and no one could overhear them. Mulder had turned the volume up on the TV just in case someone was listening somehow. He didn't think it was possible to make him more paranoid; Morris Fletcher had accomplished it. "He wouldn't tell us where they are, just gave me the pictures." "Pictures can be faked," Scully reminded him. "Well, I know that," Mulder said edgily. "I've been proven wrong often enough before. I told him I wanted proof that they are who he says they are. We may need to do some testing to be sure they're not replicants." "Short of waving magnetite over them, how would we do that?" "We know the signs. Certainly a reaction to magnetite is one of them." Scully sighed. "I'll do a complete work-up. It might not be readily apparent. For that matter, how do we know Morris Fletcher isn't a supersoldier?" "I think they'd be scraping the bottom of the barrel if he is." Scully took his hand. "I just don't want you to get your hopes up, Mulder." "I know." Mulder squeezed her hand back. "It seems too good to be true, doesn't it? Maybe it is, maybe it isn't. Once in a while the good guys deserve a break, don't you think?" "Is that your latest theory?" Scully asked, eyebrow raised. "That it's our turn to catch a break?" "Fletcher's promising proof. We'll see what he comes up with." ~*~ Continued in Chapter Four