Isolation (5/16)
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 Five

"Skinner."

"It's Mulder.  Have you found anything out about our friend?"

"Where are you?"

"At the Bat Cave." 

Skinner sighed.  "Okay, I'll meet you there.  I'm bringing some
friends."

When he arrived at the warehouse, Skinner noted that some things had
changed since his last visit.  The camera at the door had been
replaced, for one thing, and for another, Mulder had moved a portable
stereo into the space which at the moment was blasting the finale of
Beethoven's Ninth. 

"Great acoustics, huh?" Mulder shouted over the chorus.

"I never took you as a classical music buff," Skinner shouted back.

"I live for Bach," Mulder yelled and turned the turned down the
music to a tolerable level.

"I hate to break it to you, Mulder: this is Beethoven."

"It's Scully's.  I grabbed some CDs off the stack on the way out and
got some of hers in the mix."  He hit the disk changer and "Jumping
Jack Flash" began to play.  "That's more like it.  Didn't you say you
were bringing someone with you?"

"They're right behind me.  What's going on?"

"I've been feathering the nest."  In the few days since Skinner was
last there, a few things had been added.  In the kitchen,  Mulder had
put in some new appliances.  In the main room, near one wall there
was a couch and some chairs grouped around a low table, and a cabinet
with a television tuned to CNN.  There were more boxes which were
labeled with their contents: cabinets, chairs, partitions.

"What are you planning?" Skinner asked.

"Well, if this is headquarters, we need more than just a big open
space.  We need facilities.  Infrastructure, if you will.  Hot and
cold running water, even living quarters, if necessary."

"Are you going to do the work?"  Skinner asked skeptically.

"I could if I had to," Mulder said, a little defensively.  "Do you
know how much a handyman charged to come out to rural Virginia?  Not
to mention I was trying to keep a low profile.  I watched a lot of
D.I.Y. shows over the years.  But I'm hiring this out.  I just want
to make sure that whoever I get to do the work is someone I can
trust.  I don't think that checking 'Angie's List' is going to cut it
for this job."

"I think you probably remember how to do a background 
check, Mulder." 

"Yeah, I had a lot of practice, thanks to you."

The door alarm rang.  "That'll likely be them," Skinner said.  They
both looked up to the monitor mounted over the door to see John
Doggett and Monica Reyes standing outside.

"Good to see you, Mulder!" John boomed out, taking Mulder's hand in
his.  "It's been awhile."   

Monica caught him in a bear hug that almost knocked the wind out of
him.  He was a little taken aback by the effusive greetings.  He
caught Skinner grinning at him over Monica's shoulder.

"Where's Dana?" Monica asked.

"Scully's at work," Mulder said, moving out of Monica's range.  "She
says hello."  He gestured to the table.  "Come have a seat."

"Skinner says a guy named Morris Fletcher was here?"  Doggett asked.

"Yeah.  He claimed he worked with you two."

Monica rolled her eyes.  "Well, if you want to call it that."  

"He played us," Doggett said, shaking his head.  "And damn if we
didn't fall for it."  He still seemed embarrassed by it, all these
years later.   "He claimed to be working for some secret agency,
asking for our help to capture this spy.  He claimed that she was a
supersoldier, so of course that caught our attention.  Turns out he
was working for the gal's father all along, and it was something else
the guy was after.  This all happened after Scully had that run-in
with the supersoldier in the quarry.  I guess we were ripe for the
picking.  We were looking for them behind every tree." 

Monica chimed in with more details of what Fletcher had told them
when he solicited their help, and the disastrous outcome.  The two
agents didn't know the Gunmen as well as Mulder, but it was obvious
that they had a lot of  respect for the three men and the sacrifice
they'd made to save others from the deadly toxin. 

"Fletcher claims he's working for an 'agency'.  We just don't know
who.  As for the rest of his story: that's changed, too," Skinner
said.  He related the details of the meeting to the two agents.

Monica whistled in disbelief.  "I don't know which lie is bigger --
who he's working for, or that the guys are alive."

"We saw them buried at Arlington, you know that," Doggett said.

"It wouldn't be the first time someone was buried who was still
alive," Mulder said tersely.  

The others looked uncomfortable for a moment. 

"Anyway," Mulder said, "he said he'd bring proof, which other than
the pictures he gave me," Mulder pulled them out and put them on the
table, "hasn't been forthcoming."

"It's only been a few days," Skinner said.

"If it had been me," Mulder said, "I'd have made sure I had my
'proof' secured before approaching.  I'd have the guys stashed
someplace local, a place easy for me to get to.  I wouldn't want to
risk traveling far to get these guys, and I especially wouldn't want
to use any form of public transportation.  Have you guys turned
anything up?"

"We've checked flights leaving D.C. and surrounding airports,"
Doggett said.  "His name hasn't turned up on any flight manifests, 
so if he is traveling outside the area, he may be using an 
assumed name."

"Or he may be in the area," Reyes said.  "If he is working for
another agency, he's protected there."

"Unless he's not really working for an agency," Doggett said.  "I
think we have to assume that anything he says could be a lie."

"He caught us flat-footed when he met Skinner and me here," Mulder
said disgustedly.  "We had no way to have him tailed."

"So, what do we do next?" Doggett asked.

"I guess we wait," Mulder said, "unless someone comes up with a
better plan."  He hoped to.  He'd done enough waiting the last six
years.

"I'm running a few inquiries myself," Skinner said.  "Strictly
through back-channels.  We don't want Fletcher to know that anyone's
digging around." 

x-x-x

The insistent buzzing of the intercom finally woke Roger Mintage
from his sleep.  He peered at the clock.  It was almost noon; time to
get up.

"Who's there?" he mumbled into the intercom.

"It's Agent Morris from the Internal Revenue Service," said the
voice  over the intercom.  "Can we have a few moments of your time,
sir?"

Roger scrabbled for his glasses on the night table and switched his
computer over to the closed circuit monitor at the studio's main
entrance. There was only one man standing there, as far as he could
see.  The man looked up at the camera and grinned, giving a 'thumbs
up' sign.  He held up a badge and ID card for the camera.

"Do you have an appointment?" Roger asked, knowing very well that he
didn't.  

"No, I don't.  I promise you this won't take long.  And if we can
get this little matter cleared up now, it will save a good deal of
hassle later, I guarantee you."

"Give me a few minutes."   Roger got up and threw on some clothes,
calling Connie at the same time.  Something here wasn't right.  He
couldn't put his finger on it.  He knew nothing about the way the
government operated; would someone just show up on his doorstep if
there was a problem?  Wouldn't they send a letter instead?  He had a
bad feeling about this.

"Hey Connie," he said when she answered.  "Some guy who says he's
from the IRS is at the door.  I'm going down to meet him."

"Do you want me to be there too?" Connie was already downstairs in
the studio's kitchen, making coffee.

"No, I don't think so.  Go on doing whatever you were doing.  And
could you check the cameras, make sure they're working okay?  There
was a little power surge last night and some of them might not have
re-set."

"Sure thing." 

Roger took the freight elevator down to the ground floor.  He
unlocked the door to the front office and locked it again behind him
before buzzing Mr. Morris in.

The front office of Mintage Sound was rarely used.  Most people came
and went via the loading dock, which was much easier for loading and
unloading musical equipment.  All the same, Roger had made sure that
the front had the same security features as the rest of the building,
with cameras and recording devices.

Connie took her coffee into the smallest of the control rooms, where
the monitors for the various cameras were.  Roger frequently
requested that she check the cameras, although there had never a
problem with them that she know of.  He was famously reclusive; he
never granted interviews, saying that the work spoke for itself.  

She settled at the console and ran the daily check on all the
cameras, making sure that each one was set to record all movement,
and then used the main screen to flip through the camera locations
one by one, starting with the outside of the building.

Nothing unusual there; a semi-truck was unloading at the warehouse
next door.  A sedan was parked by the main entrance to Mintage Sound;
it must be the IRS guy's car.  Just down the street there was an
ambulance.  Its attendants were probably snoozing between calls.

The inside cameras showed the anteroom leading to the office, where
she could see Roger greeting his unexpected visitor.  He looked
harmless enough.  He sure seemed to smile a lot.  In Connie's book,
that was suspicious behavior.

Main corridor outside the office: clear, as expected.  Main
recording studio: same.  Connie flipped through all the locations,
ending at the loading dock, which was also deserted.

She flipped back to the office.  The door to the outside was just
closing.  Roger got rid of the guy quickly, then.  He'd be grousing
about being woken up; she'd better make some strong coffee.

She decided to make one more scroll through the cameras before going
back to the kitchen.  She checked in reverse order, starting with the
outside and ending with the office.  

Outside, the truck was still unloading, the sedan was pulling away
from the curb, and the ambulance had already gone.  No noise or
movement inside, either.  All seemed well.

Roger wasn't in the kitchen.  She assumed he'd just gone back
upstairs to sleep.  They had a recording session scheduled for that
night, and it was likely to be a long one.  Whatever had worried him
must not have turned out to be anything.  He'd tell her in his own
time.

It wasn't until a few hours later that Connie realized Roger was no
longer in the building.

~*~

Continued in Chapter Six