Okay, guys. Here's another. Yes, I know, I'm writing too damned many of these things these days, but, with no life, I have to do something! This one is not inspired by 2SHY, but by a misunderstanding I had on the net. It's a tenuous inspiration at best--as I said to the person in question, I don't recall being quite as brutalised for my words as Mulder gets. Language and violence, but probably only a PG-13 rating. Maybe even PG, but I'm a hopeless traditionalist! Anyway, write me at xangst@marina-pt.com and tell me what you think. Choose your words carefully, though. ************ Re: The Truth by Lisdean Warner She fingered the plaque on her office door lightly: Rae Chelsea VP Computer Production What the Hell did that mean? She unlocked the door, bombarded once again by the chaos that had become her life. She wasn't sure when it had happened. At twenty, she had been on her way to realising the dream of being a college professor. At twenty-six, she found herself in the unenviable position of a lonely workaholic, whose six figure salary didn't come close to making up for the fact that she had no one. The place was a mess--as usual. Computer printouts littered the desk, the table--the floor when they had to. Three computers, equally well-used, took up half the available surfaces. She sighed at the clock, which again told her that it was the obsene hour of 4:15, as it did many mornings. She sat down at her Unix station, flipping on the mac and PC as she passed them. She smiled suddenly. She had mail. The best part of the day was when she had just got in. She could spend an uninterrupted hour going through her email. Looking for him. She went through methodically, letter by letter. It made his all the more sweet when she got to it. She smiled shyly to herself as she tapped his message. To: Rae.Chelsea@crunchcon.com From: SpookyM@anon.com Subj: Alien Autopsy--RIGHT! Rae-- Did you catch that Alien Autopsy show Fox ran last night? I could have done better with a couple of balloons and a broomstick! Thought I'd let you know, I'll be in Oregon for a few days. Another wild goose chase, I'm sure, but it pays the rent. Wish you could feed my fish by email. I'll write when I get back. Have a good week, Spooky She saved it to her harddrive, as she did all his letters. They were the one thing that kept her going. No friends, no family, no life... just Spooky--her mystery man in the ether. He wouldn't tell her what he did for a living. In a way, it made him just that much more interesting, but after a month online, she knew only that he travelled, and that he had a major thing for UFOs. She wanted to know more. She tried a tired old tack she'd used weeks before. To: SpookyM@anon.com From: Rae.Chelsea@crunchcon.com Subj: The Truth Spooky-- All right. I know I've asked you this before, and I'm sure you have a very good reason for ditching the subject, but, WHO ARE YOU? I feel like I keep talking to this very pleasant, moderately witty computer. Spooky is obviously not your real name--so what *is* it? And what do you do? It seems you travel a lot. Are you a salesman? Bigboy vp? Wait, I've got it!" You're a spy, right? Spooky--spook! Come on, Spook, give. Waiting breathless, Rae She sent it off, knowing she'd get no answer before next week, but indeed waiting breathless anyway. FB Headquarters 6:15 am "It'll just take a minute, Scully," Mulder pleaded. "Mulder..." her tone was threatening as he flipped on his computer, shedding his coat as he waited for it to boot up. "We're going to miss our plane, Mulder." "We won't miss the plane," he said, opening his mailbox. "We've got plenty of time." He scanned the subjects quickly, muttering as he did so. "'Financial reports status...' Forget it guys, I'm in Oregon." "Not if we miss this flight," Scully admonished quietly. "We won't..." He stopped dead, looking up at her, smiling. "Here's a subject... 'The Truth.'" Scully walked around behind him. "Who's it from?" "Rae. She's a sci-fi nut I met on a chat line." Scully smiled blackly. "Mulder," she tsked. "Do you know what kind of people surf those chat lines?" "Yeah, but I can't arrest myself, can I?" he smiled back. They read the letter, a little noise--half surprise, half amusement--escaping Scully's throat. "She's got *you* pegged." "So she thinks," Mulder replied, a sly look on his face as he typed a response. Scully frowned at it as he sent it off. "That was cruel." "It was funny," he said, a little irritated. "She's got a sense of humour. She'll get it." "We're going to get it if we don't catch that flight." "Okay, okay," he said, grabbing his coat and briefcase. ****** To: Rae.Chelsea@crunchcon.com From SpookyM@anon.com Subj: Re: The Truth Okay, Rae--The Truth. I can't keep it from you any longer. You're right. I'm a spy. My partner and I investigate little grey men sightings all over the country. Spooky is my secret code name. I could tell you my real name, but then I'd have to kill you. My partner Bright Eyes and I are going to Oregon to investigate alien abductions. I cannot lie to you any more. Spook P.S. *Moderately* witty? Rae's hand shook as she trashed the note. He was making *fun* of her! If he didn't want to tell her, fine! But this was cruel! She fumed, tossing a Jolly Rancher into her mouth angrily. What an asshole! She'd just asked him what he did for a living. It wasn't like she'd asked him to take her to Monte Carlo! And just how stupid did he think she was? He obviously thought she'd find it "moderately witty," but it was demeaning. He was making her out to be an idiot! She abandonned the debug she was running and turned back to her mail. "Skinner's going to laugh at that expense sheet, Mulder," Scully warned as they entered their office. "You can't expect the bureau to pay for that." Mulder shrugged, a disarming smile on his face. "The guy was getting away. I had to stop him somehow." "By bringing a billboard down on him?" Scully asked incredulously. He struck a pose. "James Bond would have done it." She bit her tongue. "Hey," he said brightly. "Here's Rae's answer." Scully turned sober. "You shouldn't have sent her that, Mulder. It was mean." "Oh, come on, Scully," he said, vaguely reminiscent of a boy whose mother had called him in to dinner. "I told you she had a sense of humour." Scully walked over to read the message. Her face became pinched. "Not as much as you thought." Re: The Truth SpookyM: So sorry to have bothered you for a fucking little bit of information. Obviously, I ask too much. If you wanted to keep your life secret, this was not the way to go about it. I can find out whatever I want about you. When I do, I'll let you know. Rae P.S. Hope you and Bright Eyes had a good time! Mulder found his heart racing a bit. Scully tsked at him quietly. "Mulder, do you have to piss *everyone* off?" "It was a *joke!*" "Well, you'd better write her back as soon as possible and tell her that, because I don't think she got it." Mulder turned around to compose his letter as Scully went to her own desk to check her mail. "I didn't know a joke could backfire like this." He was halfway through the first sentence when Scully gasped. "What is it?" "From: anon@anon.com, to:DS431@VCSXF.FBI.gov.com," she read slowly. He rose at the use of her 'internal use only' address. "Re: The Truth." She looked up at him. "All it says is, 'Hey, Bright Eyes.'" He stood behind her, staring at the message. "Did you get anything else from her?" Scully asked. She admitted to being a little nervous. This woman was good if she could get a government controlled address. Mulder scrolled through a week's worth of mail. He stopped when he found it. Re: The Truth. He read it slowly, looking up at his partner as he finished, his throat suddenly very dry. "What does she say?" He looked at her for a moment, scared. "It just has your address." Mulder thanked his stars that they had decided to go straight to the office from Dulles. The apartment was trashed; pictures-off-the-walls, tables-over-turned trashed. Scully looked at her ruined home, her voice calm, non-recriminating. "You pissed off the wrong woman." Mulder looked over at her, guilt in his eyes as he righted her coffee table. "You can't stay here tonight, Scully." She nodded absently, looking back at him. "Can *you* stay at your place? I mean, she found me through you." To Scully's mild irritation, Mulder's apartment was untouched. "So why'd she hit me?" she wanted to know. Mulder shook his head. "Revenge by proxy?" "We've got to find her, Mulder," she said firmly. "Where is she from?" He shrugged. "I don't know, Scully--I don't *know!*" he repeated defensively. "I never asked her." Scully sat before his computer, booting it up. "Let's check the Phonet and see if we can find out." Mulder's email light was blinking. One message. That same mocking heading--Re: The Truth. Her message was brief, the time they had to read it in briefer still. A little pyrotechnics, please. Scully screamed shortly as the computer exploded before her, shutting her eyes and throwing her arms in front of her to ward off flying glass. ************ She sat there in the park, watching. She could see only shadows of them, but she knew she'd see the flash. She had been a little piqued to see him walk in with *her.* She hoped they'd been to the office, seen her apartment. Trashing it was a little petty, Rae knew, but she felt better for it. Of course, this would be much more fun. It hadn't been a big thing to get in there, to plant the charge. Well, she thought, self-effacing, not really a charge. A simple chemical concoction, set to go off as the monitor warmed up. She was glad his apartment had been cold; the charge needed very little to go up. She smiled a little cruelly to herself. The burns would be hell. Chemical burns were never pretty, always damaging. He wouldn't be surfing the internet any time soon. There it was. A satisfying flash, a bark of horror she could hear from accross the way. She waited now, watching for them to come out. When they did, she almost screamed. *Her!* Spooky ran out of the building, his *partner* close by his side, her hands deeply red, arms wrapped in increasingly blood-soaked towels. He threw the sedan door open for her, closing it carefully behind, as he went to the driver's seat. As they peeled out, Rae took a moment to collect herself. It wasn't so bad--note really. She had wanted to get him, didn't really think that *she* was a suitable substitute, but it wasn't so bad. He'd have to come look for her now. He wouldn't let an attack on his partner go unpunished. She'd just go home and wait for him to come to her. That he had indeed told her the truth--albeit flippantly--was a fact she kept firmly in the unused portions of her mind. He had made fun of her. That was all there was to it. That just couldn't go unanswered. The nurse who approached Mulder was clearly angry. "Sir," she said pointedly, "you are going to have to pace *somewhere else.* You're in the way." He didn't seem to hear her. "Can I see my partner yet?" She pursed her lips angrily, turning to an approaching triage doctor. "You deal with him, Chris. I'm sick of it." The doctor advanced as she stalked off, a wry smile on his face for her anger. "Agent Mulder?" he asked, extending a hand. "I'm Dr. Carter." Mulder shook the hand, eyes anxious. "Is she okay?" The doctor led him toward a treatment room. "Her hands were pretty badly burned," he admitted. "Minor lacerations on her face, a few stitches in her forearms." He pulled back an exam curtain to reveal Scully, who was just slipping off the exam table. "All in all, I'd say she was pretty lucky." He helped her on with her coat, presenting her to her partner. "You can take her home." Mulder thought not. The hotel was nicer than Scully had learned to expect from her partner. "Are you sure you can afford this, Mulder?" she asked, shrugging painfully out of her trenchcoat. "I mean, after that billboard..." "I'm *not* paying for that billboard," he corrected firmly, sitting on the bed and reaching for the phone. "Langly, turn off the tape." Scully sat wearily on the second bed, watching him. "Any luck?" He jotted down an address. "No. If she was smart enough to set all of this up, she probably won't stick around there. I'll check it out, though." Scully pursed her lips as he hung up. "You *had* to call them?" "Danny couldn't have done it any faster," he said reasonably. "We've got her address." Scully stood up. "Let's go." Mulder shook his head, gesturing for her to sit. "You're staying here." The fight went on for some time, but Mulder finally left--alone. It was a pitifully non-descript house; grey siding, a tiny front garden. It showed all the neglected evidence of a home whose owner was never there. He tried the direct route first. When his knocking brought no answer, he eased around to the back porch. The door was locked, but the key under the mat fit it perfectly. He drew his gun, sliding quietly into the darkness. The kitchen was a mess, the living room hardly tidier. But there was no one there. He moved on to the den, finding two computers, a hurricane of printouts, and little else. In comparison, the bedroom was tidy--probably no more than a weeks worth of clothes gracing the floor. He let his grip relax. She wasn't there. He was almost out the door when she attacked. She was tall, powerful--of course, the bat she held helped immeasurably. Mulder abandoned his gun to ward her off. "FBI! Freeze!" Scully's voice had to be the sweetest thing he had ever heard. The sound of it almost washed away his anger at her following him. "Put your hands up and step away from him." Rae Chelsea rose slowly, nearly dropping the bat on Mulder's head. She turned to face Scully, whose bandaged hands barely held her pistol steady. "Step away from him." The steel in Scully's voice was suddenly more annoying than Rae could stand. She launched herself at the smaller woman, confident that her battered hands could never reach the trigger. Mulder's, however, could. The shot caught her just above the shoulder blade, spinning her around slightly to face him. She fell heavily, almost taking Scully with her. Mulder stood, shaking, pulling out his cuffs. Rae looked up at him, the betrayal in her eyes more than he could bear. "All I wanted from you was the truth." She *had* got the truth, Scully mused sadly at the arraignment a few days later. They would hold her over for psychological evaluation, and Scully had no doubt that she would get the mental help she so obviously needed. Her co-workers had described her variously as brusque, flightly, quiet, and strange. She had no friends to speak of, and hadn't been in contact with her mother or sister for several years. Scully watched her partner fiddle guiltily with a pen as they waited for the judge to have her final say. He had been very quiet since the arrest, picking her up every day so she wouldn't have to fumble for the steering wheel with her burned hands. He felt guilty, she knew--but not just about her. He had appearantly been the only friend Rae had---she had never met him, and yet, he was it. Scully was really more sad for the woman than angry. Over-worked, unloved, underappreciated, her link through the ether had become her only way of communicating. She sighed as they left, and her partner glanced down at her. "You okay?" She nodded quietly. "Want some lunch?" Scully shrugged, lifting her hands, today wrapped with lighter bandages. "Just no Chinese. I couldn't handle the chopsticks." He smied slyly. "*I* could help you," he offered, opening the car door for her. She gave him a half-serious glare. "Mulder, I think you've had enough misunderstandings for one month, don't you?" "Yes, ma'am," he said as he closed the door, a ghost of a smile playing on his lips. ********** There you go. Hope you enjoyed it! lis