From: msk1024@yahoo.com   
      
   Title:  Inextricable    
   Author: msk   
   Email:  msk1024@yahoo.com   
   Rating:  R   
   Keyword: M/S, M/Fowley, Angst   
   Spoilers:  The Beginning, Drive   
   Notes:  This is the first in a series of   
   stories.  Some readers may prefer to wait   
   until the entire series is posted.   
       
      
   "Oh, the usual. Destiny, fate, how to throw a    
   curve ball. The inextricable relationships    
   in our lives that are neither accidental    
   nor somehow in our control, either."    
              Fox Mulder, The Red and the Black.   
      
      
      
      
   "And to the best of your recollection, did Mr.    
   Arbogast ever submit anyone else's work as his    
   own when you were both at Ohio State University?"   
      
   Dana Scully fought back a yawn as she listened to    
   the overgrown frat boy vow his old college buddy was    
   as honest as a boy scout, as sober as a judge and as    
   American as apple pie.  She thanked him and hung up    
   the phone.   
      
   The notes she jotted down on the evaluation form    
   reflected her skepticism over Mr. Arbogast's straight    
   and narrow college years.     
      
   Scully consulted her watch, shaking her head slightly.   
   Background checks made each day feel like an eternity.     
   It was four in the afternoon, and quitting time felt    
   like it was a mirage on the horizon.   
      
   They'd been on background checks for two weeks now,    
   since the whole disastrous Crump affair.  Disastrous    
   and personally expensive.  Scully was still paying off    
   the debt they'd incurred by going AWOL on their case.     
   At least they'd been able to get out into the field    
   when they worked domestic terrorism.    
      
   Scully thought back, remembering how she and Mulder    
   had seemed back in step for a short while.  Of course,    
   she'd allowed him to pull her into the Crump case.     
   She'd been out of her comfort level, on a wild ride    
   on the Mulder roller coaster.  She'd realized then    
   how much she'd missed the adrenaline rush of working    
   with Mulder, breaking the rules, jumping the ditches    
   in an out-of-control ride.   
      
   Her mind slamming back into the present, Scully swiveled    
   her chair around and sighed.  Her partner's desk was    
   unattended, as it seemed to be more and more these days.     
   The work bored him, that much was clear.  He was restless,    
   an animal in a cage and he gave her flimsy excuses about    
   why he had to be anywhere other than the bullpen.     
      
   He'd announce that he "had to see a man about a horse"    
   and leave for so long Scully was afraid he'd actually   
   gone to Kentucky looking for a horse stable.  He    
   offered to hand deliver their reports, telling her    
   that the interoffice mail system had been slow lately.    
      
   When he was there, he wasn't really there, either.  If   
   he was at his desk, he was hunkered down, his voice a    
   low murmur as he spoke into the phone.  Mulder seemed    
   to barely register her existence most of the time.   
      
   Scully knew the loss of the X-Files weighed heavy on him.    
   She remembered how broken he'd been the first time they'd   
   been taken away.  This time was worse, somehow.  Mulder    
   wasn't just broken this time--he was bitter and angry    
   and not just at the powers that be.  He blamed her.   
      
   She had failed Mulder, and though he wouldn't put voice   
   to it, she knew he couldn't look at her without remembering   
   that.  In spite of their brief moment back on the same    
   page in Idaho, the rock solid relationship that she'd    
   always taken comfort in now bore stress fractures.   
      
   And Diana Fowley had neatly inserted herself into the   
   fissure between the partners.     
      
   She remembered the first time she'd ever seen Diana at   
   a briefing for the Gibson Praise case.  The woman had   
   thrown her support at Mulder and he turned to her like    
   a plant turns to sunlight.     
      
   Scully disliked her on a cellular level.  Whenever she    
   was in Diana's presence, the hair at the back of    
   Scully's neck prickled, as if a thunderstorm was on    
   the horizon.   
      
   Scully had tried to raise questions about the timing    
   of Fowley's reappearance, but Mulder, the most paranoid    
   of men, saw no correlation.  And no red flags obviously.    
      
   Scully hadn't asked where he spent so much time, not    
   that he probably would have opened up to her.  But she    
   was pretty damn sure who he was with.  Agent Fowley had    
   the thing he wanted more than anything else in life--the    
   X-Files.  And Scully was the person who'd cost him that    
   prize.   
      
   A year ago, at the height of a crisis of faith that had    
   rocked his world, Mulder had talked about inextricable   
   relationships that were beyond their control.  His voice   
   that night had been contemplative, almost wistful, and    
   she had wondered how he felt about their relationship.     
   It was pretty clear to her now that he regretted his   
   ties to her.   
      
   Scully turned back to her desk and typed up her notes on    
   the Arbogast interviews.  The fraternity brother was the    
   last of several contacts she'd spoken to about the ATF    
   hopeful.  If prior experience was a plus, Mr. Arbogast    
   had alcohol and tobacco in his favor.  It was past    
   quitting time before Scully slipped the last sheet of    
   paper into Arbogast's file folder.  There was no sign    
   of Mulder.   
      
   His suit jacket was gone.  She remembered seeing it   
   draped over the back of his chair earlier in the day.     
   Mulder must have come back and packed up when she was    
   away from her desk.  Well, she wasn't going to wait    
   around for him.   
      
   Scully shut down her computer and locked up her desk.    
   As she shrugged into her coat and gathered her bag,    
   she glanced around the nearly deserted bull pen.     
   She couldn't remember when she'd felt so alone.   
      
   Isolation hadn't been her choice, not really.  It was    
   a nasty side effect of life on the X-Files, where the    
   answer to "how was your day?" was never fit for mixed    
   company.  At the end of the day, the only person she    
   could really talk to was Mulder.  And at the end of    
   this day, he was nowhere to be found.   
      
   She passed a few agents as she walked to the parking    
   garage.  The Hoover Building quieted down in the    
   evenings, but it was never empty.  Her heels    
   echoed down the hall.   
      
   The lights were too bright in the elevator and when    
   she stepped out onto her floor; it took a few moments    
   for her eyes to adjust.   
      
   As the doors closed behind her, Scully heard a woman's    
   laughter, low and throaty.  She found the source--Diana   
   Fowley--standing by a large luxury car halfway down the   
   length of the parking area.  She was talking to a man   
   whose back was to Scully.   
      
   She didn't need to see the man's face to know it was    
   Mulder.  His lanky grace was imprinted on Scully's brain.     
   His hands were thrust into his slacks pockets and he    
   cocked his head to one side as he listened to whatever    
   Diana was saying.   
      
   Scully moved into the shadows, her discomfort level    
   rising at the cozy scene before her.  She didn't think    
   she could bear the embarrassment if they were to notice    
   her watching them.  She prayed they wouldn't drag their    
   little chat out forever.   
      
   Mulder reached out to open the car door.  A bitter little   
   smile crossed Scully's face; no matter what, Mulder was   
      
   [continued in next message]   
      
   --- SoupGate-Win32 v1.05   
    * Origin: you cannot sedate... all the things you hate (1:229/2)