Title: More Equal
Author: Tim Scott
Email: TScott2533@aol.com
Website: http://www.geocities.com/Paris/Arc/1461/
Rating: PG-13 due to some bad words 

Summary: Post "One Son" story

Disclaimer: All characters in this story are the property of
Chris Carter, 1013 Productions and the Fox Network.
My use of them is unauthorized.




All animals are equal but some animals are more equal than others.
ANIMAL FARM -- George Orwell




She found him in the basement.

It didn't take a rocket scientist to know where he'd go. And the seal on the 
door was broken, the one left by the crime scene team after finding Spender's 
body. Mulder was famous for his lack of respect for proper procedure. Rules 
were for other people, people like her. Not for Fox Mulder.

Most of the lights were off. Some illumination came from the window set high 
in one wall, the rest from what managed to reach the office from the hallway. 
Since the nearest fluorescent had failed, this wasn't much. It was 
sufficient for her purposes. She'd learned a lot about shadows in the past 
few years.

Mulder himself was not immediately visible. His spoor was, though. The 
nameplates belonging to the most recent occupants of the office were missing 
from the door. She could see a broken bit of plastic with OWLEY on it lying 
on the floor near the trash can, the undented one.

She'd only been down here twice since the fire -- once to dragoon Spender 
into helping her find Mulder, the second time with Mulder himself on an 
information raid. She'd noticed odd feelings both times. She assumed that 
the anal-retentive air of neatness that the place had taken on since their 
departure was an effect of Spender's presence. He'd had that look to him. 

On the one hand she was drawn to the clarity of thought that such tidiness 
inspired. On the other she was appalled by a fundamental sense of 
*wrongness* that the absence of Mulder's presence in this place gave her.

It was confusing. Too much of her life was confusing lately. Just one more 
source of stress, like an itch she couldn't scratch.

The fresh-paint smell was gone but the aroma of ashes remained, a subtle 
aftertaste that snuck up on you. Mulder never wore cologne or after-shave so 
it was useless to seek him that way. She knew the smell of his sweat, 
though, from stakeouts and times she'd had to drag him out of the gym. She 
sniffed delicately.

Nope.

He was here, though. She could *feel* him in the darkness around here 
somewhere. She scanned for more sign.

A file drawer left open, pens strewn across a desk instead of in the pen 
holder... On a hunch she looked up. Yup. Pencils in the ceiling. He'd 
been here, marking his territory or something. She sighed softly. he didn't pee 
on the chair legs...> As she turned, about to seek him 
elsewhere, he materialized out of the darkness in the back of the office. 
They stared at each other for a long moment.

"So."

"So."

Faint bars of light crossed his face, making it difficult to read. The eyes, 
green now instead of hazel, were lit but his mouth was still in shadow. His 
stance was tense. Well, it could be worse. At least he hadn't put the desk 
between them. She maintained her position in the doorway, determined not to 
enter *his* space until granted permission.

take second billing below a rookie.> Dana took time out to chide herself for 
expecting anything else. Spender may have been a rookie but she wasn't. She 
knew the rules, the realities of working in a Man's World.

Mulder moved to sit behind the desk. So that's how it was going to go. 
Fine. She wasn't really in the mood to kiss and make up anyway.

"You disappeared awfully quickly after twisting AD Kersh's nose, Mulder."

His smile came and went almost before she registered its presence. "You 
could have stopped me anytime, Scully, and you know it. Besides, you didn't 
really think I'd let a chance like that slide, do you? After all the shit -- 
pun intended -- he put us through over the past months?"

Well. There was that. And it *had* been a distinct pleasure to watch the 
vein in their erstwhile boss' forehead throb. She looked down at the floor 
long enough for her hair to mask the smile she couldn't repress. When she 
had it under control again she looked up.

"No, I suppose not." She paused for a breath. "What are you doing down 
here, Mulder?"

He glanced away, then back. "Oh, just sittin' and thinkin'..."

She wasn't sure she wanted to play this game. On the other hand, the 
alternative was silence. Mulder did pretty nasty silence when he was in a 
bad mood. She didn't need that right now. At least if he was talking she 
might be able to steer the conversation to something useful.

"About...?"

He stared at his folded hands on the desktop in front of him for a moment 
before looking back at her.

"About how I owe you an apology. And a 'thank you'."

She leaned against the door jamb. Not that she actually expected to faint 
from the shock, but it never hurt to be sure.

"For what, Mulder?"

He didn't flinch from it, she had to give him that. "The thanks is for 
supporting me with Kersh in the office earlier today. I know that wasn't 
easy for you after the argument we had over at the Gunmen's place. The 
apology is about Diana. Gate guards at El Rico testify that she left the 
base with the elder Spender after the immolations in the hangar. You were 
right, she was working with -- or for -- the Cancer Man."

Dana decided the door jamb wasn't enough. She needed a chair after all, and 
screw his damn territoriality. After dragging one over to face him at the 
desk she said, "Why didn't you believe me, Mulder?"

"That's one of the things I've been pondering."

She waited for a moment. He fumbled around in his pockets for a few moments, 
didn't find what he was looking for and gave up with a little sigh of 
frustration. She considered giving him the stash of seeds she kept in her 
purse for emergencies, decided against it. the soul, they say.>

"Come to any useful conclusions?"

He nodded slowly. "Actually, I did. I've had this odd sense of deja vu all 
day. Seeing you in the doorway there crystallized it for me. Brought it 
into focus."

She could feel an eyebrow going up. "Brought what into focus, Mulder? Don't 
make me drag it out of you, please. Just say what you have to say, for once."

He shrugged. "Have it your way. I was thinking about the role reversal. 
About all those times you claimed I was assuming facts not in evidence, how 
prone I am, according to you, to jump to conclusions with insufficient facts 
to back them up. And about how you didn't allow a similar lack of factual 
evidence to slow you down last night when you and the guys ganged up on me."

She sat up straight. Before she could speak he pressed on.

"I thought about how you didn't mind my pig-headed loyalty when it worked in 
your favor, when it pushed me to drag your frozen ass out of Antarctica. My 
stubbornness seemed to please you in that particular case."

"Mulder..."

"And then, of course, there was the VinylRight case. I couldn't help 
noticing that when I told the truth about what I'd seen, when I saved Skinner 
from being attacked by that thing, my reward was to be placed in restraints. 
To be staked out like bait, helpless to defend myself. This is in contrast 
to how you dealt with the situation. You were certain enough that you saw a 
monster to shoot it but not certain enough to testify to it later. You came 
out smelling like a rose on the report, too. I asked Skinner, later, what 
you said when he questioned you. His exact words, I believe, were that 
'Ginger Rogers' tap-dancing skills had nothing on those of Agent Scully'."

Dana could feel the heat in her cheeks as the blush stole over her face. She 
hoped the dimness of the room hid it.

"Congratulations on that, too, by the way. You used to be a truly rotten 
liar. So my lesson from that particular case was that the truth is not 
always desirable to you. Well, I'd known that for a long time, actually, but 
it finally sank in that time."

Her eyes burned into his but he refused to back down. Eventually she was 
forced to look away. He smiled, then, but there was no humor in it.

"But I digress. You wanted to know why I refused to take your word that 
Fowley was dirty. You were frustrated that I failed to believe what you 
considered convincing evidence that she was not the person I once knew. I 
finally made the connection when I saw you in the doorway just now. Remember 
how I met Jack Willis?"

She froze.

"As I recall -- and my memory is pretty good, Scully -- I tried to warn you 
that the Jack Willis who came out of the ER after his near death experience 
was not the Jack Willis you remembered. I tested him three different ways 
and he failed each test. And when I tried to convince you of my findings... 
do you remember your reaction?"

She stared straight ahead, refusing to move.

"No? Okay, I'll refresh your memory. You refused to believe me. When I 
suggested that your past association with him might be clouding your 
judgment, that you might be letting the fact that you'd once been lovers 
influence you, you blew me off. You were outraged, in fact. Funny how that 
works, isn't it?"

The silence dragged on for nearly a minute. The occasional creaking and 
settling of the building was the only sound. Finally Mulder sighed, got up 
and headed for the door.

"Where are you going, Mulder?" she managed.

The sound of his footsteps receding didn't pause as the reply floated back 
down the hallway. "It will take a few days for them to get us back on active 
duty. I need to think about this some more. I'll see you Monday."

Dana got up and wandered aimlessly through the office. The sight of the 
second desk suddenly infuriated her. billing but at least she got a fucking 
desk! And she didn't have to wait six 
fucking years to get it, either!> She raised her right hand, enraged, to 
sweep the desktop clear but the sight of an inter-office envelope in the 
chair stopped her. She turned on the lamp and pulled out the note. The 
envelope was much heavier than it should have been. She ignored that for a 
moment and read the note first.


Scully:

This is the desk I requested for you some time back. It
arrived, I'm told, three weeks after the fire. Typical
speedy service from Stores. I'm sorry that Fowley got 
to use your desk before you did. If you want you can 
have it fumigated before you decide to use it. If you 
decide to use it. You may want to send it back. It's 
up to you. Enclosed with this note is your nameplate 
for the door. After the events of the last few days you
may not even want to stay with the X-Files. Again, 
that's up to you. Whatever you decide, I'd like to take
this opportunity to say that it has been an honor and a
privilege to work with you.

M


She stared blindly into the dimness for a few minutes before she took the 
foot-long plastic strip out of the envelope. It had been a symbol of what 
she thought she wanted for so long. Now, to hold it in her hands seemed 
rather... anticlimactic. She put it back into the envelope, left it on the 
table and slowly departed the office, automatically locking it behind her.



The End