SERIES: Flight

TITLE: Shuttle

AUTHOR: Tesla 

RATING: R 

CLASSIFICATION: Mulder/Other

KEYWORDS: None 

ARCHIVE: Sure, everyone, I would be in a tizzy of pleasure and tell everyone I knew. 

SPOILERS: Assume that this alternate universe careens off track after "Field Trip," but back for "Goldberg Variations" and "Millennium"

DISCLAIMERS: If Ten Thirteen is even reading this, HI! I know a copyright lawyer who said he'll defend us!

SUMMARY: Continuation of "Flying under the Radar", "Gaining Altitude" and "Some Turbulence Expected" and "Visibility Zero."

THANKS to my beta, Emerex, for encouragement and all-round good cheer, and to MaybeAmanda for the MulderClone, and advice disguised as wisecracks. 

NOTES: Waiting for that "Bob" MulderClone, complete with pullover and loafers.

Dana Scully grew quite accustomed to talking about the invasion of her apartment. She first talked about the original case, when Donnie Pfaster had abducted her, in Minneapolis, and how he had attempted to "prepare" her. Then, she talked about walking in on him at her own home. Her lawyer did not let her wander from the script, and her lawyer did not let her appear alone before the investigative committee. Scully had repeated her planned testimony at least six times before they showed up.

"I'm astounded that you ever testified before these people without a lawyer," Scully's lawyer said angrily. "Talk about a death wish."

Janet Durrell was pacing in the hallway. She obviously couldn't wait to get started. She only stopped when the door opened, framing Assistant Director Skinner. Scully stood up, and Janet stepped in front of her.

"Ms. Durrell," he said frostily. "The committee is ready for Agent Scully, but was not prepared for her lawyer." He closed the door behind him.

"Then Agent Scully isn't talking," Janet said, and picked up her briefcase. Scully kept her expression neutral: they had rehearsed this. The employee handbook clearly stated that any agent was entitled to be represented by counsel at any hearing of this nature. Meaning, shooting suspects was serious, had possible political repercussions, and said agent could be facing a shitstorm.

"You are inferring that Agent Scully has something to fear," Skinner was saying.

"You are inferring that Agent Scully loses her Constitutional rights because she is a federal employee," Janet said back. "Hey, I got all day to debate this, but I would assume that high officials of our nation's chief law enforcement agency have other things to do than interrogate and humiliate a federal law officer, one who should be commended rather than excoriated."

"We have no other agenda than making sure that Agent Scully acted properly on this occasion."

"Well, surely your own investigation and your own report should be sufficient. Or is there a secret FBI handbook of procedure that is not furnished to agents?"

The two just stared at each other. Scully felt impatient with the entire dance. She knew that Skinner believed her, and filed the appropriate report. They all knew this was just a farce.

"Farce?" Janet had repeated. They were in the law office. "This is to keep you from getting snotty remarks in your personal file, a pay cut, or a suspension. Didn't you have enough of the old boys' club when you were in the general office pool? Don't you realize that this is just like any corporation in America? Women have to try twice as hard to stay in the same place. "

"But it's all garbage. Skinner told me everything was all right."

"Okay, it's garbage. But you have to do it, so get used to it. It's part of the game."

"Donnie Pfaster was pure evil," Scully said sharply. "Do you know that he was a necrophile? Mulder let the Minneapolis cops say 'death fetishist', but he liked dead women. He wanted them nice and cold. He wanted to groom my hair and nails. You could see the Devil in his face." Janet said nothing, sitting back in her chair, playing with a snow globe of the Lincoln Memorial. "I saw it," Scully said.

Janet turned the globe over. "Tell me all that again, with more detail," she said. Scully blinked. "I mean it, " Janet said. "Tell me again. Tell me about the Devil."

"It's too late to use an insanity defense," Scully said. She picked up her coffee cup and set it back down.

"Tell me about the Devil." Janet repeated.

"I saw him. The first time, in 1994. I saw his face change. His face-he looked-he was a demon. I can't really explain it. Maybe I hallucinated. But he was evil. He tortured his victims. He was going to torture me."

"Yes, so you were in fear of your life. You knew what was in store for you. You knew you were going to be raped and mutilated, and murdered." Janet put the globe on her desk. "You say you can't remember if Mulder was there when you shot."

"It all happened at the same moment." Scully said, slowly. "But I could have shot Mulder. I was shot, you know. My partner in New York came in and shot a suspect and the bullet went through him and hit me."

"A different partner, not Mulder, shot you?" Janet asked, wrinkling her forehead.

"Peyton Ritter. But it was the same thing. Ritter barreled in, and thought I was in danger. And I got shot."

"No, if you use that analogy, then Mulder would have shot Pfaster. In fact, the fact that Mulder wasn't shot suggests that it was over by the time he was there."

"But did I have to shoot him?" Scully asked. She stood up, and went to look out the window of the tiny office. Janet swiveled her chair to watch her. "I had my weapon. Mulder was right there. He had his weapon. Something made me shoot him." She looked down at Janet. "But what if I wasn't supposed to shoot him? What if it was a test, and I failed?"

"Is this a Catholic thing, or are you being karmic on me?" Janet asked expressionlessly. "Because I thought shooting the bad guys was what the good guys are supposed to do."

"Don't patronize me, counselor, "Scully said, still staring outside. "You should clean these windows."

"Don't patronize me," Janet said equably. She swiveled slightly in the chair, until her knee nudged Scully. "Hey. Listen up. " Scully glanced down, out of the side of her eyes. Janet raised her hand, palm out. "This is how it will go. Your assistant director will first act like you aren't entitled to a lawyer. That's bullshit. Then, if all signs are right, and I'm damned sure they are, we go in to the little committee, and you either tell them what you told me, or they say they accept your report and your assistant director's report, and the matter is closed."

Scully looked down at Janet for a long minute. Then, seemingly out of the blue, she asked, over her shoulder, "Did Mulder ever tell you that I'm supposed to be some sort of Snow Queen?"

"You rode a float in the Snow Parade?" Janet asked.

"No. Like the Hans Christian Andersen story. I don't know if anyone really said it. Someone told me someone else told them-"

"Triple hearsay," Janet interjected. "But I know the story."

"Do you think I act like a Snow Queen?" Scully asked harshly.

Janet paused. Scully turned fully from the window and faced her, knee to knee, waiting.

"I think you're more like Kay," Janet said gently. "You might have a sliver of ice in your heart, and it's freezing everything."

Scully felt her face scrunch up hideously, painfully, and then she was kneeling, crying with her face in her hands, on Janet's knees.

With a wrench, Scully was back in the present. Skinner was closing the door behind him.

"I thought you'd gone into a trance, " Janet said, stuffing Altoids in her mouth. "Now, watch. It'll go like I said it will."

And it did.

The man came into the Alexandria law office at four o'clock Tuesday afternoon. He did not look any different from any other salesman or client, as he stood in front of Valerie, the secretary, with his zippered portfolio. He claimed he had some documents for his wife's lawyer. Ms. Durrell wasn't available, she told him.

So he pulled out his pistol and aimed through the glass partition and shot her. She had just enough warning to dive for the kneehole in her desk, so the bullet missed her head and gouged her upper arm, but he ignored her as the glass exploded. She fell to the floor, pulling files and the telephone down with her.

Other people ran out of their offices at the noise, then backed up when they saw the gun. "Where is she?" he screamed. "Where is that bitch?"

He began shooting through the flimsy wood doors that were slammed against him. Others were piling office furniture against their doors; the college student who worked as a runner made it out the back door and ran to the next office to call for help. *

On the Beltline, stuck in traffic, Dana Scully was arguing with her partner about God.

"I believe in randomness," Mulder said, drumming his fingers on the steering wheel. "I believe in random numbers and spontaneous combustion." He wasn't focussing on the argument, but was half-listening to the local talk radio. Scully had promptly turned the volume down to the minimum. Like it was going to distract him from watching the line of stopped cars in front of them.

He leaned back in his seat. "Haven't we been having this conversation for several years now? Your beliefs were formed in a formal religious system. Great. You're satisfied with the answers that you find in that system. Great again."

"But?" Scully asked, examining her cuticles.

He sighed theatrically. "Haven't we done this a hundred times?"

*

The gunman was methodically shooting at door locks. The secretary pulled her office chair over her head, and hoped her would think she was dead. Her blood was streaming over the plastic chair mat.

Someone had called the police; sirens wailed outside.

No one came in. The air was cloudy.

"Where is she?" the gunman shouted, and tried to kick a door open. A woman screamed as he shot through the door.

Valerie could smell what she thought was her own blood, and gunpowder, as she tried to lie still. She counted the people in the building. Who was still at court?

She saw his shoes as he stood before her. She didn't blink.

He pulled the telephone up by the cord, and punched in a number.

"I'm at Alexandria Legal Services, and I'm going to shoot everyone here unless I can talk to my wife," he said in a perfectly conversational voice.

* It was amazing how vicious some professed Christians could be, Mulder thought, not for the first time. Sheesh. He had met stone cold atheists who at least listened courteously to another point of view.

Of course, he had deliberately hit Scully's flash button. The "I don't need this shit" tone seemed to drive her to raging lunacy. It was always good for a fifteen-minute tirade, which always ended.

"Since you aren't listening to me, as usual, I'll stop," she concluded, delivered in her coldest forensic tone.

"Scully, I always listen to you," he said. He spoiled the effect by adding, "I've always liked that lecture. Your catechism teacher must be beaming-"

She held her palm out for silence and turned up the radio. This was an unusual day.

"-Shots fired. There are reports of a gunman holding hostages inside the offices of Alexandria Legal Services."

Mulder went cold.

"That's Janet's office, " Scully said, blankly.

"Get your gun and badge ready," he said, and bumped his car onto the median, driving up through the grassy strip to an exit. The other cars honked belligerently, and Scully wound down her window and held out her badge.

* The police had the street cordoned off, and ambulances waiting. A negotiator was on his way.

Valerie didn't know that. She saw the gunman move the chair from her, and squeezed her eyes shut.

"You can go," he said. "You're just a secretary, aren't you?"

Valerie usually bristled at those words, but she nodded fervently, and he helped her up with one hand, the other hand still holding out the pistol. She clapped her hand to her shoulder, and he half-dragged her to the front door, and pushed her out in front.

She tripped and fell down the two steps to the street; a policeman in a Kevlar vest raced out and pulled her behind a car.

"Who is it? Do you know? Who's in there with him?"

"I don't remember, " Valerie said. "I don't remember who he is. He shot at someone else. He wanted his wife's lawyer."

*

Mulder parked at an angle, next to the police tape. But Scully got out of the car and raced up to the nearest officer, badge in hand.

"Agent Scully, FBI," she said. "I know one of the lawyers. What's going on?"

"Disgruntled divorce, " the policeman said. "He shot one girl, and let her go. She says there's more inside." He shrugged. "Suicide by cop, seems to me."

Scully looked around at the crowd. There was the ambulance. There was the hostage team. She caught sight of a blonde woman standing beside a police captain, and she ran through the crowd.

"I don't even file divorces," Janet was saying. "His wife could be someone I sent to someone else." Scully put her hand on her arm, and Janet looked down at Scully as she finished. "Oh, hi, Dana." Then she looked past Scully. Her hand patted Scully's for a second, and then she stepped away from her.

"Damn it, Janet-" Mulder said. He was shaking.

"Is this any time to quote Rocky Horror Show?" Janet asked, pokerfaced.

"Is this any time to be a snot?" he retorted, and crushed her in a bear hug. He let her go after a moment. "Jesus, there's a time and place for humor." He kissed the side of her face. "You idiot."

"I can't help it. It's a joke. This guy has the wrong law office."

Scully felt at sea. Neither one had ever told her-she had assumed-she clamped her mouth shut hard.

"I'm glad you're all right, Janet," she said formally. "Mulder, if we're not needed here-"

Infuriatingly, he held out the keys. He still had one arm around the other woman. "Here, I'll catch a ride home with Janet."

Numb, Scully took the keys and walked away. Behind her, she heard shouts and glanced back; she saw the door opening, and the gunman walking out with his hands on his head. As she walked to the car in the dusk, the camera crews were running up the street.

Later that evening, she was making a salad when the phone rang. She let the machine pick it up.

"Hey, Scully," Mulder's voice said. Scully came to the kitchen doorway to listen. "Just one person wounded." He paused. "Guy was at the wrong law office. Same last name, wrong lawyer. I told you, it's all random." And he hung up.

Scully stood there for a moment, looking at the knife in her hand.

As workmen installed the new steel-cored office door, Janet read a copy of Dana Scully's mental evaluation.

MENTAL STATUS EXAM:

Dr. Scully was appropriately attired and well groomed for this evaluation. She was wearing a business suit that was clean and pressed. She was wearing jewelry and makeup. There was nothing remarkable about this woman's physical appearance. Dr. Scully's thinking was logical and orderly. Her memory function was intact. Dr. Scully did not seem depressed to me. Her affect was normal. She was able to smile on occasion. She made good eye contact with me. She did not cry..

Janet flipped the page.

Throughout my time with her, I found Dr. Scully to be cautious and reserved, although striving to appear otherwise. She seems to be in denial regarding the dangers of her occupation. Dr. Scully's judgement is intact. Her insight is fair to poor.

Whoops, thought Janet. Did you piss the guy off, Scully?

The MMPI-2 was administered to Dr. Scully in order to assess her current psychiatric status. She completed this test independently and in a timely fashion. The results indicated a person who was striving to give "correct" answers; however, this is not unusual for persons of her educational level. It should be noted that Dr. Scully shows no evidence of depression, anxiety, or generalized distress. There is nothing here to suggest a psychotic illness. Dr. Scully shows clear signs of a dependent personality disorder. Indeed, she is likely to be passive-aggressive and attracted to dominant and/or maladaptive people.

Janet grinned. Battle of the doctors, and the Ph.D. is showing definite wounds at the hands of the M.D. Well, time for the J.D.

Someone knocked on the doorframe. Janet looked up. "Hi, Dana," she said, "Good. You got my message."

Scully's eyes widened for a moment, then she nodded.

Janet held up the pages. "Got your psych eval. You're going to feel all warm and tingly about this guy."

Scully sat down abruptly, and took the pages.

"We also need to think about referring you to another lawyer, "Janet said benevolently. Thank you, Jesus, she thought.

"Why?" Scully demanded.

"Oh, well, because if this," she picked up a letter, "goes any further, I'm going to have a conflict of interest."

"Because of Mulder? Why now?"

"Well, this and that. Because Mulder and I weren't seeing each other when I actually started representing you, and because I felt I could quash the Bureau investigation as well as the criminal charges." She held out the letter. "I actually think I can quash this, but now, Mulder would be a witness."

Scully made no move to take the letter. "What is it?"

"It's a demand letter by Donnie Pfaster's sister. A wrongful death suit."

Scully actually felt the room move. "What?" she asked faintly.

"Like I said, I think this will go away. But I think I better let one of my cohorts take over, now."

"I can't go through this again," Scully said. "I thought it was over." Her face was vanilla-colored. "I don't want to talk about this to a stranger. To a new lawyer."

"Well," Janet said, her voice suddenly formal, "I have advised you of a possible conflict of interest, in that I am involved with your partner, a potential witness. Do you ask that I still represent you?"

"Yes, of course," Scully said.

"Okay. Then, let me summarize. I think this is a nuisance suit. I think this sister is hoping you will pay her something to make her go away. I would like to write a strong letter telling them to go fuck themselves-"

"To use the legal term," Scully said, with a faint smile.

"To use the legal term," Janet agreed. "I would actually state that we would counter-claim against the estate for a lot of zeros. After all, he broke into your apartment. Property damage, bodily injury, emotional distress, punitive damages.I think, on the whole, we should meet with your Mr. Skinner. "

"Why?"

"Because the sister cc'd the Bureau."

Janet was used to striding through crowds, but she thought the number of people walking through the corridors to Skinner's office was excessive. She wasn't to know that Skinner's secretary had alerted her friends that Scully was on her way in with her lawyer, who was Mulder's girlfriend. (Kimberly's best friend bowled with Henderson and the ViCap guys and knew all about Janet.) Most of them were former bullpen colleagues who had a pool going as to whether Mulder was in a threesome with Scully and Janet.

Janet always picked up a weird vibe from Skinner. Today, while giving Skinner a copy of the demand letter and her draft of a reply, she studied him as she spoke. Damn, she thought, a light coming on, he's got a jones for Dana! She looked at Scully, who was all wound up as usual, but in an impersonal sort of way. And she doesn't have a clue!

Not for the first time, Janet wondered if Scully was asexual.

The meeting with Skinner went well; he gave his blessing to Janet's proposed plan of action, and greeted with obvious relief her plans to withdraw as Scully's lawyer, should litigation ensue. That made both Janet and Scully wary.

"With all due respect, Sir, I do feel that I would be better represented by my own counsel, rather than Bureau counsel," Scully said stiffly. Janet, lolling disrespectfully in her chair, grinned.

"Agent, I do not think you would enjoy having some-" he stopped, obviously trying not to say insulting things about lawyers-" Plaintiff's attorney quizzing you as to your knowledge of your partner's romantic-" he paused again.

"Entanglements?" Janet said, in a spuriously helpful tone.

"Partners," Skinner said, giving her his best Level Two glare.

Janet was unimpressed. "A little alliterative?" she queried. Skinner's head began to redden. "Look, Mr. Skinner. Right now, we're all on the same side. So can we skip the dancing around here? I'm out of here as soon as Agent Scully lets me go. She is satisfied that there is no conflict of interest, and frankly, so am I."

"Very well," Skinner said, standing up.

Janet nodded, seized her briefcase, and left, several paces ahead of Scully and Skinner. Through the open suite door, they (and Kimberly) heard her say, "Why don't some of you get the hell out of here and go find the Atlanta bomber? Jesus. Our taxes at work."

Scully and Skinner exchanged glances.

"Frankly, Agent," Skinner said weightily, " I think Mulder has met his match."