Foundation I (6/6): Laying the Groundwork

Disclaimer in Part 1

Six Weeks Later

Washington D.C.

"Agent Mulder, thank you for calling me," A.D. Skinner says, striding purposefully down the long hospital corridor. "How is she?" he asks.

"As well as can be expected, Sir," Mulder mutters. Skinner offers Mulder a styrofoam cup filled with stale, black coffee. He accepts it gratefully, tossing it back quickly. Lukewarm. He grimaces.

"The X rays have shown that the mass is shrinking. The doctors can't explain it," Mulder says casually. "Can you?"

Skinner glances away for a moment, and then fixes his gaze solemnly on his agent. "I don't know what you're talking about."

Mulder nods. "What is the price for this?" He gestures to the hospital room where Scully is sleeping.

Skinner clenches his jaw. "I don't know what you're talking about."

Mulder shrugs nonchalantly. "That's comforting," he says wryly.

The two men are silent for a long while. "I have something to confess," Mulder tells Skinner. He wears a sheepish grin. "Scully and I - "

"Agent Mulder, stop. I don't want to hear this," he mutters severely. He grabs his overcoat and heads for the nearest exit.

" - hey, I was just going to tell you that we'd be ready for field duty by Monday!" Mulder shouts after the retreating figure.

"Hey," a voice materializes from behind him. "What's going on?"

"Scully, you're awake," Mulder says, a warm smile gracing his features. "I was just filling Skinner in on our...vacation..."

"You didn't," she whispered, horrified.

"It's ok, Dana - he didn't want to listen to the good parts..."

"Mul - "

He hugs her tightly, and steps back. "Relax," he says with finality. He places a gentle finger over her lips. His dark eyes bore into her soul. "We'll be fine," he says softly. With his finger he traces a line from her temple back to her lips. He lightly kisses her temple. "We'll be fine."

Scully moves closer. She adjusts her gaze, focusing on his face. "I know," she tells him. "I trust you."

_______________________________________X

In a dark, smoke-filled room a cigarette is lightly stubbed out.

"Everything has gone as planned," the smoker says. "They amuse me. I think perhaps I will keep them around for a while." A match flares, and another cigarette is lit. "Everything has gone as planned."