C019D9C090E03@comcast.net> 9dd17fbf   
   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 16   
      
   Sunday, September 29, 1940 - 12:08 a.m.   
      
      
      
   What the hell were they thinking? The question played over and over in   
   Frohike’s mind as he stepped inside the elevator and pushed the button for the   
   third floor.  He could understand the professor's desire to recover his   
   precious equations but at the    
   risk of his life? What good was he to anyone if he got himself killed?   
      
   And Jimmy. What was his excuse? He knew how dangerous this whole situation was   
   but he didn't have the drive or the need to get back something that had been   
   hard won and would be difficult to recreate.   
      
   He leaned heavily against the railing in the rear of the elevator, his bad leg   
   throbbing from the constant exertion.  The first thing he intended to do when   
   he found Jimmy and Langly was to knock their heads together.  Then he would   
   take them back to the    
   morgue and let Yves draw and quarter them at her leisure.   
      
   That was, if someone hadn’t beaten him to it.   
      
   The elevator door slid open.  He stepped out to see a middle aged woman   
   standing just inside her apartment holding the door halfway open. She had   
   curlers in her hair and was clutching her chenille robe tightly at her   
   throat.  Frohike doubted the fear on    
   her face was because of his sudden appearance.   
      
   "There was a terrible ruckus,” the woman said when she saw Frohike.  “It woke   
   me from a sound sleep.”  She made a disapproving noise but her expression   
   softened. “I haven’t heard anything for five minutes or so.  Who knows what   
   they did to that young man.   
    That’s when I called you.”   
      
   Frohike realized the woman assumed he was a cop.  He decided not to enlighten   
   her.  “Thank you for calling,” he said, “I’ll check it out.”   
      
   The woman slipped back inside, closing the door behind her.  He heard the   
   sound of a deadbolt sliding home.   
      
   Frohike turned his attention to Jimmy’s apartment, noting the damage to the   
   front door.  An uneasy feeling curled around his stomach and his hand slid   
   inside his jacket withdrawing his gun.   
      
   He moved toward the partially open door.  The lights were on.  He pushed the   
   door open the rest of the way and saw Jimmy lying face down on the floor near   
   a worn out couch.    Dead?  Unconscious?  Frohike couldn’t tell.   
      
   He stepped cautiously inside, scanning the rest of the apartment.  It was   
   small and open offering few hiding places.  He quickly checked the bedroom and   
   the bathroom.   
      
   A groan snapped his attention back to the prone photographer bringing him to   
   the injured man's side. Frohike saw his hand move.   
      
   Relief moved through Frohike like a gust of cool wind.  He crouched down,   
   ignoring the protests of his throbbing leg.   
      
   “Jimmy,” he whispered, waiting for some indication of just how badly hurt the   
   young man was. "Can you get up?"   
      
   "Yeah, I think so." Jimmy groaned again and started to get to his feet.    
   Frohike helped him up then led him to the couch.  Once he sat down Frohike   
   noted his beaten and bruised face.  The kid’s right eye was blackened, his   
   bottom lip split and bloody.     
   There were several other cuts on his face as well.   
      
   "Where's the professor?" Frohike asked, afraid he already knew the answer but   
   needed to confirm it.   
      
   "They took him.  I tried to stop them but….” Jimmy sighed heavily his breath   
   ragged with pain as he leaned back on the couch.   
      
    Nothing Frohike could say at that point would express his disgust, anger or   
   distress at this development.  There would be time for that later.   "Can you   
   get up?" he asked Jimmy. "We gotta get out of here before the cops arrive."   
      
   Jimmy nodded then stood up shakily, one arm wrapped protectively around his   
   ribs.   
      
   Frohike offered an arm for support but Jimmy waved him off. "I can walk…but I   
   have to tell you…"   
      
   "We don't have time for apologies now,” Frohike said, his tone curt.  “We have   
   to get back and let Yves know what happened.  I think you should be the one to   
   tell her about this incredibly stupid stunt you pulled tonight.”   
      
   Jimmy didn’t respond. He just watched as Frohike opened the door and checked   
   the hallway.  “It’s clear.  Come on before the police arrive and we have to   
   try to explain this.”   
      
   “Frohike,” Jimmy said quietly, “I have to tell you…” he winced from his split   
   lip.  “They gave me a message…”   
      
   "Damn it!” Frohike said.  “I hear police sirens.  We can’t use the elevator;   
   we’ll run into them for sure.  Where are the stairs?”   
      
   “At the end of the hall,” Jimmy indicated the proper direction.   
      
   Frohike opened the door to the stairwell.  His leg quaked under him at the   
   thought of descending three flights of stairs.  Why the hell did the kid have   
   to live on the third floor?   
      
   “I gotta tell you about the message,” Jimmy insisted.   
      
   “Tell me later,” Frohike snapped.  “Let’s go.”   
      
      
      
      
   * * * * *   
      
      
      
      
   Heat and light: she was first aware of these two things. The lamp was so   
   bright, it kicked off enough heat that her face felt like she had spent too   
   much time in the sun. There were also voices but she could distinguish nothing   
   more than silhouettes that    
   moved around beyond the circle of light in which she existed.   
      
   There was also pain. First, in her bound wrists, then from a needle that was   
   shoved none too gently into her arm. Then there were voices again, becoming   
   more and more insistent. She was uncertain if she responded to them or not.   
      
   She hoped not.   
      
   The voices grew louder; the silhouettes moved closer until one separated   
   itself from the rest and became distinct. His features were large, his   
   hairline was receding and his smile made Yves' insides twist in revulsion.   
      
   Yves snapped awake but lay still, her harsh breathing the only sound in the   
   darkness.   
      
   She had never dreamed before that night - when one small error in judgment had   
   thrust her into three days of prolonged hell.  The first time she had the   
   dream, she realized she could either dwell on the memory and question her   
   abilities or she could    
   acknowledge the mistake, learn from the experience and move on.   
      
      
   [continued in next message]   
      
   --- SoupGate-Win32 v1.05   
    * Origin: you cannot sedate... all the things you hate (1:229/2)