PUT IN PERSPECTIVE (part 1) By Lauriebds@aol.com (feedback appreciated) *** "Mulder, what makes you think this guy has anything valuable to tell you?" Scully asked as they stopped walking and she turned to face him. She had to squint from the glare of their car's headlights. Mulder shrugged, glancing back down at her from the corner of his eye. "Intuition?" he smiled. As Scully opened her mouth to reply, another set of headlights accosted them from the opposite direction. Mulder squinted into the light as Scully turned and used her hand to shield her eyes. "Agent Mulder?" A voice whined from in front of them, somewhere outside of the circle of light created by both cars' headlights. "I thought I told you to come alone." "You did," Mulder shrugged, not impressed with Fletcher's cloak and dagger approach to their meeting. "Listen Fletcher, cut the theatrics and just tell me what this is all about?" Fletcher sighed heavily, giving up the covert drill for the moment as he walked into the light. As he walked up next to them, he quickly checked his watch. For a split second, his glance shifted upward before it settled on them. "Agent Scully," he nodded, his eyes flicking this time up and down her body. Scully pursed her lips and looked away. "You're looking beautiful as always," he slithered as his gaze remained on her figure. Mulder broke in, Get to the point." Fletcher shrugged, but didn't remove his gaze. "I have some information you might be interested in." "And..." Mulder helped him along. "And," Fletcher said as he finally shifted his gaze to Mulder, "I need to know what a case file from the DOD is worth to you." "Case file?" Mulder frowned. "Concerning a weather balloon gone down in a small town in Wisconsin." "Is there reason to think we're talking about something other than a weather balloon?" Mulder asked. "Oh, yeah," Fletcher drawled. "What you have to consider is why the DOD would be investigating an incident involving nothing more than the crash of a weather balloon?" Fletcher looked at them expectantly, cocking his head and flashing his teeth in what he undoubtedly considered a charming grin. Scully glared at Mulder, subtly warning him not to go off half cocked. "I'm listening," Mulder answered after a moment. Fletcher suddenly looked at his watch, and then at Scully again. He seemed a little agitated suddenly. "I need to speak with you alone, Mulder. No offense, Agent Scully." "None taken," she mumbled, her brow shrugging in disdain. "I'll wait for you in the car, Mulder," she said as she crossed her arms in front of her chest and turned back toward the car. She walked a few feet when a squeal of tires caught her attention. A blue Taurus suddenly pulled around Mulder's car, parking astride of it. As she heard the Taurus' gearshift thrown into park, the driver's door suddenly flew open and Skinner emerged with his gun drawn. "Sir?" she started, but when she saw the grim set of his jaw as he headed down the road toward Mulder, she turned back herself, suddenly regretting her initial estimation of Morris Fletcher. As she caught up to Skinner and reached behind her back to draw her gun, Skinner halted her movement. When she looked up to him in question, she realized his attention was directed upward as well. While both Mulder and Fletcher's faces were illuminated in the beams from the headlights, Skinner's attention rose above and beyond where they stood to a single light in the sky. The light grew steadily brighter as they watched. Mulder and Fletcher, however, hadn't noticed it. "What the hell?" Fletcher began, startled by Skinner's appearance. Mulder's reaction to Skinner's unexpected arrival was to take a step backward from Fletcher and go for his gun. Suddenly, there was a roar from overhead. A beam of light passed over them which was brighter than the combined force of the three cars' headlights. As quickly as they were assaulted by the sound and light, the night was silent again. "Son of a bitch," Fletcher spat out, turning on his heel without explanation. He was out of the circle of light and in his car before Mulder made a move. The slam of Fletcher's car door seemed to distract Mulder away from searching the night sky. As Fletcher's car suddenly jumped backward in a tight circle, Mulder ran up to it. He just touched the trunk when Fletcher floored it, leaving him in the dust. He stood watching the taillights of Fletcher's car fade in the distance. When he turned around and started heading back toward Skinner, Scully and the cars, his progress slowed as he took in the scene before him. Skinner's hand was still on Scully's arm, but his attention was absorbed entirely in reading Scully's face. She was no less enthralled as she gazed into Skinner's face. "Oh My GOD!" Skinner said slowly. *** "What the hell are you doing here?" Mulder said to Skinner as he headed for his car. When the two continued to look at each other, he stopped and stared at them. "Skinner?" "I..." Scully began, but stopped again as she closed her eyes, her jaw thrusting forward and shifting silently side to side. When she opened her eyes again, she turned to face Mulder, steeled as if in determination. "I received an anonymous message that the person you were meeting out here was going to kill you." Mulder's brow wrinkled in confusion. "What do you mean? Why didn't you tell me this earlier?" Scully seemed stumped by his question. "Agent Mulder, let's take this conversation back to civilization," she ordered. "I..." and her brow knitted, "think we have a lot to talk about." She suddenly seemed distracted by a stray piece of hair at her brow line. She caught the strand and looked at it, sighing heavily as she blinked her eyes in disbelief. After a moment, she dropped the offending hair and set her jaw. Thus resolved to her hair emergency, she turned to walk, somewhat slowly and gingerly, back to the cars. "*Agent* Mulder?" Mulder repeated in whisper, looking a bit puzzled. As he walked past Skinner, he mumbled, "You still haven't told me what you're doing here." Skinner didn't answer. He just stood rooted to the spot, silently watching Scully as she veered course and headed toward Mulder's car. After a moment, he slowly raised his hands up from his side, looking at both in turn. Upon seeing his gun, he moved to return it to his holster at his back. When he turned back to Mulder, he looked stunned. "This can't be happening." *** For the first time Scully could remember, Mulder was speechless. In actuality, none of the three had much to say. Scully studiously avoided looking at herself sitting at the end of the table. It was too disconcerting. As she sat across from Mulder, she could almost believe it was all a bad dream. True, her vantagepoint was off. She was sitting much higher over the table than she normally would. Plus, every time she tried to cross her legs, she kept banging her knees on the underside of the table. But each of these were only subtle reminders of her plight. The realities she couldn't ignore were Skinner's voice forming her words and the big hands sitting on the table top before her, cradling the cup of coffee she was tasting. Try as she might, she couldn't keep her gaze off of them as she handled the cup, adding the requisite amount of cream and sugar. She finally forced herself to sneak a gaze at "Skinner." She was surprised that she could almost mistake herself for someone else. As she thought about it, she realized she had never seen herself fleshed out in 3D. The woman she watched looked world weary. She sat leaning back against the wall of the booth, her face in her hand, her elbow resting on the table. One pinky finger lay across her upper lip as she asked in mumbled resignation, "What now?" Mulder shook his head as if rousing himself. "I think we need to talk to Morris Fletcher." "What makes you think he knows anything about this?" the woman asked, shifting her weight forward as she turned to face the table. She pulled herself upright, rolling her shoulders back as if in preparation for battle. "This is too weird," Mulder mumbled under his breath, but answered the question just the same. "Fletcher was pissed when he took off. Whatever this was all about, something went wrong. But I'm sure he knows what that something is." "Do you think this was some kind of test?" Scully asked, Skinner's voice still surprising her. "I don't think so. He's DOD. From what he told me, his primary job is keeping this kind of thing under wraps. That would explain how he might know the ship would be out flying around tonight. I doubt he is part of its operation." "If his job is keeping it under wraps, why lure us out there with stories of alien ships masquerading as weather balloons?" Scully asked. "Alien ships? Your 302 had this guy listed as an informant in the Hernandez case," Skinner started, but he seemed to recognize the absurdity of his reprimand, given as it was in Agent Scully's voice. "I don't want to know how you two play fast and loose with the facts," he said, his unique body language manipulating Scully's actions. Her head cocked away from the conversation before it righted itself, apparently working a particular chronic pain in her neck. "It's US two now, partner," Mulder said pointedly. Skinner turned at the comment to fasten Mulder with a steely glare that was definitely all his own. Mulder met it solemnly. He was not teasing. "Well, anyway," Mulder began as he turned his attention to Scully. "I don't think we have a lot of choices about where to start." As Mulder watched the man across from him reposition his glasses with both hands, deliberately positioning the frames in a comfortable spot along the bridge of his nose, he suddenly realized how many little manifestations of personality each would have to deal with. He'd never seen Skinner do anything other than jab his glasses back up his nose with his middle finger. "In the meantime, you two might have to work out some practical considerations," Mulder reminded them. "It's 12:30 p.m. We're not going to get anywhere tonight. Scully," he started, addressing the man sitting across from him. "You'll have to continue the masquerade. Go to Skinner's apartment tonight. First thing in the morning call in sick to Kim. That might buy us a few days." Mulder turned to the woman next to him, and found her rubbing the bridge of her nose. While it was a familiar movement, it was wholly unfamiliar on Scully. "Sir, you and I can hunt down Fletcher in the morning." Skinner nodded, answering, "Scully, the security code to my apartment is 4-6-52. Anything I need to know?" "No....I can't think of anything." A wince suddenly crossed Skinner's features as a thought dawned on Scully. "My mother...just don't answer the phone for right now." As Scully shimmied daintily out of the booth, carefully keeping Skinner's legs together in unconscious habit, she continued under her breath, "I can only pray things are back to normal within a couple of days." "If this situation continues past tomorrow, you'll have a lot more than your mom to deal with," Mulder informed her after he stood up and threw some money down on the table. "I'm just trying to keep you straight in my mind, but starting tomorrow I'll have to address you by your outward appearance." Scully shrugged. "Okay. But starting tomorrow, okay?" Mulder gulped, unnerved at the pleading brown eyes level with his own. *** Skinner pulled the keys out of the overcoat's pocket, realizing as he did so that he didn't know which key to use in the lock. In an unaccustomed episode of luck, he found it on the second try. Once inside the darkened apartment, he closed the door quickly and leaned heavily against it. He immediately slid off the 2-inch high heels, letting out a deep sigh. After a moment, he searched along the wall for a light switch. Finally finding it, he was greeted from all sides with warm yellows and reds. He had to admit the room looked inviting. He sighed, imagining the stark walls that would greet Scully. He had been avoiding the need to go to the bathroom for the last hour. He looked to the heavens with a glance of pure ire as he pushed himself off of the door and headed deeper into the apartment. He accomplished the task with the discipline that served him through his tour in Vietnam and his rise in the bureau. But as he washed his hands after standing up from the toilet, he caught Scully's image in the mirror. As he slowly dried his hands, he decided it was time to let this reality sink in. As he stared at Scully's reflection, he raised his hand to touch her cheek, manipulating Scully's actions as well. He wasn't sure how long he stood there, staring. He finally roused himself upon witnessing Scully's thumb caress her lips. *** "There's something else I can't quite put my finger on with this guy," Mulder droned on, apparently used to thinking out loud. "Something he said when greeting us. He was too familiar." "Too familiar? What do you mean by that?" Skinner asked, Scully's voice sounding short and distracted, as he brought her elbow down from the door of the car. "He acted like he knew us. In fact, he told Scully she looked beautiful, 'as always'." "Pretty thin, Mulder," Skinner mumbled. Mulder shrugged, "It's more than that. I sensed something familiar about this guy. Like I knew him from somewhere." Skinner sighed before answering, his attention partially taken by the passing scenery. "Maybe you've met him before." "I have a photographic memory, remember? I either know a face or I don't," Mulder said, looking over toward Skinner, his movement drawing Skinner's attention. As Skinner met Mulder's eye, he caught Mulder's gaze drift up and down Scully's body appreciatively." "Jesus, Mulder...." Skinner started. Mulder returned his attention to the road, smirking slightly. "Don't worry. I don't normally ogle Scully. It's just that you look...she looks... so different." Skinner harrumphed. "I'm something of a novice in hairstyling and makeup, Mulder. I wouldn't have bothered at all, except that I was trying not to embarrass Agent Scully." "No," Mulder answered, his voice slightly strangled until he cleared his throat, "You look good." At Skinner's snort, Mulder tried again. "I'm serious, Sir. You do her hair differently, but it looks good. In fact, she looks very good, softer...." "Mulder," Skinner interrupted. "It's no win." Mulder nodded and gave up. *** The light filtering through Scully's eyelids finally woke her, sending her into a slight panic as she realized sunlight was streaming in the window. Everything looked off as she opened her eyes, but she didn't take time to wonder about it as she strained to her left to read her alarm clock and damn its betrayal. She blinked her eyes several times trying to dislodge the sleep from them, but the numbers on the clock continued to blur. Suddenly, it all came pouring back. She flopped back down on the bed, screwing her eyes tightly shut. After a few moments, she took a deep breath and opened her eyes. Her left hand roamed over to the nightstand, patting around the tabletop for Skinner's glasses. She put them on and sat up slightly to face the world, vision in tact. First things first, she was extremely uncomfortable. When she got into Skinner's apartment the night before, she went immediately to the bedroom to take off the size 13s, fall down on the bed and go to sleep. That was her plan. Part of her shocked mind still believed she would "wake up", and thereby avoid some of the more intimate invasions into Skinner's privacy. As she stood before the commode, she steeled herself to approach this with the same detachment she learned from long experience in autopsy suites. She unzipped Skinner's pants, reached in with an odd sort of relief born from the fullness of his bladder, and parted the fly of his BVDs. What she found there shocked her back into the moment. "Holy, Shit," escaped in appreciation, Skinner's husky morning voice echoing back the sentiment within the tiled walls of the bathroom.