019D9C090E03@comcast.net> 21d7ba2f   
   Note: I'm decided that it will take all summer to get this posted if I keep   
   trying to post every other day. So, I'm switching to a chapter a day. I   
   apologize to those of you who receive multiple copies of it for filling up   
   your email boxes.   
      
   Mags   
      
   Title - Decoding the Enigma   
   Authors - Amy Jonas and MagsRose   
   E-mail - adjonas2000@yahoo.com or magsrose@comcast.net   
   Rating - FRT-13 (PG - 13)   
   Category - AU/Gen/Het   
   Archive - Just let us know.   
   Feedback - Yes, please. Any kind is always welcome. We just like to know   
   someone is reading this stuff.   
   Disclaimer - Without Prejudice. The names of all characters contained here in   
   are the property of Chris Carter, et. al. No infringements of these copyrights   
   are intended, and are used here without permission. All original characters   
   are the sole property    
   of Mags or Amy and may not be used without the author's permission.   
   Summary - In 1940, Private Investigator, Melvin Frohike thought he was working   
   on a simple missing person case but he soon found himself embroiled in   
   something far more sinister.   
   Authors' notes - After seeing the Maltese Falcon, Amy presented Mags with an   
   idea for The X-Files characters in an Alternate Universe.  Intrigued by the   
   possibilities, Mags suggested a co-authoring effort.  The result is the story   
   you see here.  Thanks    
   to Erynn and Alison for betaing this for us.   
      
      
      
      
      
   Chapter 13   
      
      
   Maggie couldn’t decide what to feel as she sank into her office chair.  She   
   had hoped Mel would be at the office although what he would have been doing   
   alone in the dark she didn’t want to contemplate.  She sighed, leaning back in   
   the chair.  Did she    
   really want to find Mel drunk or passed out?   
      
   Of course not, she admonished herself.  And Mel was stronger then that.   Yes,   
   he’d had a few set backs recently but the Jennings case had hit him hard.     
   However, he was doing better in his professional and personal life.  He even….   
      
   Maggie shot up in her chair, laughing aloud.  Of course!  Why hadn’t she   
   thought of it before?   
      
   She grabbed her phone and quickly flipped through her address book until she   
   found the number she wanted.  Mel, she was sure, would seek the company of the   
   one person who was responsible in large for his improved mood these days.   
      
   She dialed the morgue, hoping she was correct. The phone rang several times   
   with no answer.   
      
   “Office attire has never been more lovely.”   
      
   The familiar voice made Maggie turn around.  “Mr. Fletcher,” she said,   
   dropping the receiver on the hook.   
      
   Morris Fletcher stood at the door, a smarmy grin on his face.  "It’s Maggie,   
   right?”   
      
   Maggie stood up, unconsciously smoothing her dress, trying to disguise how   
   uneasy the man made her feel.  “What are you doing here, Mr. Fletcher?”   
      
   He entered, still smiling.  “I was hoping to speak to Mr. Frohike about my   
   case.”  His gaze flicked around the room, settled on Frohike’s closed office   
   door a moment before returning to Maggie. “Is he here?”   
      
   “Of course not,” Maggie said cautiously in her most businesslike voice. “It’s   
   Saturday night.”   
      
   “And yet you’re here.” Fletcher’s smile never wavered; his voice never lost   
   its mild tone.  It unnerved Maggie.   She had worked too long for Mel not to   
   understand the man was fishing for information and was not above putting her   
   on the defensive to get    
   her to slip up and reveal the information he wanted.   
      
   Except Maggie didn’t know where Mel was.  She pasted an embarrassed smile on   
   her face.  “Yes.  I was meeting a friend for dinner…" Where was Fox? He should   
   have called all ready. “…when I realized I had forgotten to type up a contract   
   for a client.”   
      
   “If you're still interested in talking to Mr. Frohike,” she continued, “he   
   will be back in the office at 9 a.m. on Monday.”  Maggie tried to guide the   
   man out but he neatly sidestepped her.   
      
   “I don’t think you understand what I want, Maggie.”  Fletcher continued to   
   smile.   
      
   Before Maggie could think of anything to say, she heard footsteps in the   
   hall.  She looked up, expecting to see Fox, a boyish grin on his face and she   
   nearly let out an audible sigh of relief.   
      
   It caught in her throat.   
      
    A man, tall and good looking stood in the doorway.  He didn’t say anything,   
   just gazed at her.  His silence was more frightening then Morris Fletcher’s   
   malevolent smile.   
      
   “Alex,” Fletcher said cheerfully. “Come in.  Maggie and I were having a   
   conversation, why don’t you join us?”   
      
   Krycek stepped inside the office, closing the door behind him.   
      
   Maggie heard the snick of the lock a moment later.   
      
      
      
      
      
      
   * * * * *   
      
      
      
      
   Jimmy couldn’t believe his luck.  His camera seemed to have made it through   
   the evening’s craziness intact.  Its only real value was sentimental. He'd   
   purchased it with his first paycheck as a staff photographer on the Gazette.   
      
   He looked through the viewfinder and scanned the room.  Professor Langly was   
   sitting in a corner with a notebook and pencil furiously attempting to   
   recreate his lost notes.   If Langly had been agitated about being in a   
   morgue, he apparently had    
   forgotten all about his fears once he was lost in his work.   
      
   He turned his attention, adjusting the focus until he saw clear images of   
   Frohike and Dr. Scully talking quietly to each other. Back in the chair he had   
   claimed when they first arrived, Frohike looked a lot better. Dr. Mackenzie   
   had sutured his leg and    
   ordered him to stay off it as much as possible. He had pretty much obeyed her   
   instructions with the exception of washing up and changing into an extra set   
   of clothes he had stashed in the trunk of his car for long stakeouts.   
      
   He heard footsteps from the hall and quickly set the camera on the little   
   table that held gleaming surgical tools.  Trying not to dwell on the possible   
   use of a particularly nasty looking saw-like thing, he watched anxiously as   
   the door swung open.   
      
   He let out his held breath when Yves and Dr. Mackenzie entered.  Yves looked a   
   lot better. Like Frohike, she had washed off the worst of the dirt and soot.    
   Dr. Scully had lent her some clothes she kept in her office for, as she said,   
   ‘just in case.”     
   She hadn’t elaborated or given an explanation for those cryptic words but   
   after seeing the tools of her job, Jimmy didn’t particularly want to know.   
      
   “Miss Harlow,” Dr. Mackenzie was saying, frustration evident in her voice.    
   “You should be wearing a sling to keep that shoulder immobile. "If those   
   stitches …”   
      
   “They won’t,” Yves interrupted dismissively.   
      
   “Then at least get some rest.”  Mackenzie’s gaze slid from Yves to Frohike.    
   “Both of you.  Your bodies have suffered significant trauma and blood loss not   
   to mention the signs of exhaustion you're both exhibiting.  You need to let   
   your bodies heal;    
   sleep is the best remedy I could prescribe.”  When both of her patients just   
   met her gaze with obstinate expressions, she sighed.   
      
   Yves spoke up. “Doctor Mackenzie.”   
      
      
   [continued in next message]   
      
   --- SoupGate-Win32 v1.05   
    * Origin: you cannot sedate... all the things you hate (1:229/2)