Title: On the Job Experience
Author: JRFPatton
Feedback: Absolutely
Archive: Anywhere, just tell me
Email: JRFPatton@hotmail.com
Rating: PG
Classification: SRA
Spoilers: through Dead/Alive
Keywords: Mulder/Scully romance
Disclaimer: The main characters, the familiar ones, are the
property of Chris Carter, Fox, and Ten Thirteen
Productions used without permission. This story is in no way 
affiliated with or endorsed by anyone associated with The X-
files nor intended to infringe on copyrights.  
Summary: Fueled by euphoria over Mulder's return, Scully 
challenges a new female agent.


On The Job Experience


    Fox Mulder leaned over and listened to the regular 
breathing of the woman beside him. He had to be sure Dana 
Scully slept when he told her.  The months he was missing, 
a captive of the aliens, she had suffered just as he had,
albeit differently.  
    Difficult to tell now though. She acted as though he was 
back, she was pregnant, God was in His heaven, and all was 
right with the world at long freaking last. She'd turned the 
page; gone on without him as though those dark days were part 
of a horror story she read with Agent John Doggett. She 
wanted to follow old familiar patterns now alien - no, he 
smiled, foreign - to him. He seen and felt and heard and 
experienced too much to do that so soon, maybe ever. Still, to 
please her Mulder followed for a while. . . while he polished 
his confession.
    "A part of me went willingly," he whispered into her back, 
into the hard bone of her shoulder blade that was so prominent 
because she was too thin. "A part of me was curious. Standing 
in that light of the alien craft -- I was glad to know the 
truth. I can't regret that. But I can't go back. I can't 
pretend that it didn't happen as we did other times. I can't 
stand still-it would cause..." 
    Scully stirred, rolled over, and smacked her mouth. He 
brushed his lips over hers ever so lightly; his skin still 
tender from the abuse it received. He resisted the need to 
gather her up and hold her close. She didn't see that she had 
changed too. She was a force. He had to go back in history to 
Jacqueline Kennedy to find a woman with an aura of power that both 
repelled and fascinated the bureau as Scully did now -- although 
he was fairly certain she would resent the implication of that 
analogy. He was old Mulder in new skin and she was new Scully 
in old skin.
    Quietly, he eased out of his bed -- their bed -- and crept 
out of the room.
    His going broke the connection. They had never 
slept spooned or wrapped together. Mulder might have grown 
used to it. Scully couldn't abide it. They slept with the barest
whisper of a touch so each would know the other was still there. 
The tip of her toes warmed against his leg or knee,
his fingers grazing her back, shoulder or arm.
    "Mulder?"
    "Four o'clock. Go back to sleep," he said.
     She yawned. "And miss Australian rules football?" She had 
only heard the last of his confession, perhaps dreamed the rest. 
As she struggled to sit up and find her robe she wondered for 
the millionth time what kind of massive ego was required to 
assume that everything wrong was somehow your responsibility 
to right.
++++
    The sign over the sink, printed in black letters on 
someone's computer then laminated and taped over the soap 
dispenser, read: "For good health, please wash your hands."
    Before every meal and nearly every time she came out of 
the bathroom her mother said, "Genie, did you wash your 
hands?"
    Now FBI Special Agent Genie Markham stared at the 
institutional green walls of the first floor women's restroom 
in the J. Edgar Hoover Building for only a second before 
starting to work. She pushed up her sleeves until the cuffs of 
her white silk blouse scooted over her elbows and gave the hot 
water knob a vicious twist. Ever obedient, she began to wash 
her hands.
    For more than two weeks she had washed her hands. 
Repeatedly.  And the blood from a bullet wound she could not 
staunch was still pouring through her fingers. Her hands were 
still dirty.
    How trite, she thought. What a clique: washing and washing 
your hands to get the blood off them. Like Pontius Pilate 
ridding himself of Christ's blood. Like people in mental 
hospitals. Like her loony Uncle Paul who thought bugs were 
crawling up his arms.
    So she knew it was crazy yet she kept doing it. In the 17 
days since the young bank robber died from a bullet she fired, 
Genie had been to the FBI shrink like a good little agent, 
endured her review with OPS, and even taken a few days off to 
visit her folks and fight with her fiance until they were both 
raw. Then she returned to work. Desk duty. A few pats on the 
back from those who knew it was a righteous shoot, a few buck-
up words from the more sensitive agents, and she was ready for 
field duty again.
    Right. 
    The gun holstered in the small of her back felt like it 
had gained a lot of weight since she last wore it. 
    Genie used the inside of one elbow and a toss of her head 
to throw her shoulder length brown hair off her face. She 
couldn't use her hands, her dirty hands, until she scrubbed 
them clean in hot water.
    "You're going to boil your skin off," said a voice behind 
her.
    Genie looked in the mirror over the sink into the eyes of 
Special Agent Dana Scully, the Iron Maiden herself. She stood 
behind Genie with her arms crossed, her lips pursed. Impending 
motherhood filled out her cheeks and made the freckles stand 
out, but she presented a formidable figure. Maybe legend and 
rumor had something to do with the image Genie had of Agent 
Scully. Genie was a good five inches taller, yet she felt 
small.
    "Spilled something on my hands," Genie said. She tried a 
chuckle then remembered FBI agents shouldn't do things like 
laugh or smile. Certainly not in the women's restroom with a 
senior agent.
    Scully nodded. Her big belly made a convenient resting 
place for her arms. "Had some nasty spills myself."
    Genie suddenly realized there was only one sink in this 
restroom. "Uh, you need to get in here, Agent Scully?"
    "Not yet. You're the only person I know who spends more 
time in here than I do," Scully said. "I'm pregnant. What's 
your excuse?"
    Mortified and flustered, Genie turned off the water and 
reached for a paper towel. Scully handed her two. She was 
waiting for an answer and Genie didn't have one. Water dripped 
from her hands and arms.
    "I-I didn't realize my personal habits were of such 
interest," she said. Especially not to an agent with Scully's 
reputation.
    "Agent Markham, you are the only agent I've known in the 
last 10 years who whistles under her breath in the hallways. 
You are the only person who, after a full year on the job, 
smiles on a regular and rather sincere basis. You are bound to 
attract some attention," Scully said. "I have it on some 
authority that you sing in elevators. Can that be accurate?"
    Genie flushed. "I didn't realize anyone could hear." 
Scully made her feel like a fool when she already felt like a 
criminal.
    "This is the FBI. We hear everything," Scully said. She 
plopped her purse on the counter next to the sink and sighed. 
"For instance, I hear you've stopped doing all of the above."
    "I've been- on administrative leave," Genie said.
    "You're back."
    "So I am."
     Scully refused to let go of Genie's eyes. "Are you 
really?" 
    "Ah, Agent Scully, I appreciate--"
    "No," Scully said. "You don't welcome my interest, you 
want me to leave you alone to wallow in the pit of misery and 
self-condemnation you've dug yourself."
    "And you would know!"
    "Yes, Agent Markham, I would know. Better than most." 
Scully said, rather shocked at the backlash. "What color was 
the boy's hair?"
    "Light brown."
    "Eyes?"
    "Green. Pug nose, thin lips. Not more than 18. Looked like 
a kid I used to baby-sit for."
    "Did the kid you used to baby-sit hold a gun to an elderly 
bank customer's head?"
    "I know I did the right thing!" Genie shook her head 
miserably. "Why is this so hard?" 
    Scully dug into her purse and came up with a tube of hand 
cream. "Here. This is the best I've found." She cradled 
Genie's hand and squeezed a long, thick line into the palm. 
"Makes the red go away." Scully had never been a guilty hand-
washer though she could imagine Mulder had spent some time 
over washroom sinks. 
    The lotion was cold and there was so much of it Genie 
could hear it squishing between her fingers as she massaged it 
in. Scully was right, of course, she had been wallowing in 
self-pity. What she'd done was part of the job, she'd known it 
was a possibility all along. Yet, faced with the reality of 
all she'd seen and heard from others -- Genie drew a deep 
breath and looked up at the senior agent. She resented Scully 
for being right. "Why do you care?"
    Exasperated Scully said, "Honestly? You've been sort of a 
curiosity. You came in here from the academy like all of us, 
bright eyed and full of righteous determination. And you've 
hung onto it in the face of everything from paperwork to blood 
and gore. Incredible. Every time a new class comes in senior 
agents take bets -- how long that first flush will last. Agent
Thomas won $100 on you. Wish I had a piece of that."
    "Should have been quicker," Genie said bitterly. "I've got 
April 15 in the latest office pool. Taxes due that day too." 
    Scully's slight intake of breath was the only way Genie 
knew she'd scored a hit. "You'll lose." It came out tight and 
dry. 
    Genie had the decency to be ashamed. It wasn't like Agent 
Scully didn't have her plate full. Her partner, the most 
likely candidate for father of her child, shows up again after 
being given up for dead by everyone but Agent Scully. God -- 
and probably no one else -- knows what really went on during 
X-File cases, but the rumors were bad. In spite of the 
skepticism that was de rigueur when discussing the senior 
agent, Genie harbored a generous amount of respect for Agent 
Scully. This is how she repaid the woman's concern? 
    She didn't even have the nerve to look Scully in the eye. 
"I'm sorry. You didn't deserve - that was extremely cruel and 
not at all like me - I hope you believe that," she said. "I 
haven't really been -. I've been pretty much a bitch all 
around."
    "Welcome to the sisterhood."
    Genie chuckled. "Yeah, well, you're not the only one I've 
tried to skewer. I have a fiance..well, I think I still have 
one." She sighed miserably and leaned against the sink. 
Scully's figure against the frosted panes of the double window 
became outlined in light. "I felt so close to him; now I don't 
feel close to anyone."
    "Thing like this - it's got to change you, to make you see 
things differently," Scully said. "But if it shakes your core, 
turns you into someone you don't like - get out before you don't 
recognize yourself. Before you become so slick and hard 
nothing sticks to you."
    "That what happened to you?" 
    Scully's eyes widened, then she realized Genie hadn't 
meant to be harsh. She said softly, "It wasn't the killing. It 
was the - treachery. Mine, everyone else's."
   "Yours?"
    Scully appeared sorry she'd opened this line of 
conversation. She tried to back off. "It doesn't matter," she 
muttered, put the tube back in her purse, and it looked as 
though she was leaving. Genie put her hand on Scully's wrist. 
   "What could you possibly imagine was treachery in you?" 
    It was the purest compliment Scully could remember 
receiving. "Betraying myself. . .what I always felt to be 
morally just and right. That's the worst, isn't it? That's why 
you're in here washing your hands until they're red, why 
you've taken a bite out of everyone around you, why you jumped 
down my throat."
    Genie dropped Scully's wrist as though it were on fire. 
    "I never could see things in gray. Do what you have to do
 and move on, but my partner. . ." Agent Scully seemed stricken 
with a terminal case of self-consciousness. Genie thought at first 
she was mistaken, but then, it was clear in the senior agent's 
posture, the way she licked her lips.
    "Your partner. . .?"
    "Hm-m . . .  when I heard, ah, about your shoot I 
realized something. . . something you might want to know. It 
was a little late in coming for me," Scully said. She drew a 
deep breath, releasing the air slowly with her words. "I think 
only someone capable of bringing forth life can truly 
appreciate the horror of taking life away." 
    For a moment the water facet dripped with a poignant 
plink, plink. "Yeah," Genie said at last.
    The door to the restroom popped open and two young 
secretaries came in, giggling at something or someone in the 
hall. Their laughter choked off when they recognized the two 
women standing by the sink. Both secretaries ducked into 
stalls.
    "A show-stopper," Genie whispered.
     Scully shook her head. "Not you."
    "Probably not you either," Genie said.
    Scully looked up from under arched eyebrows to indicate 
she wasn't buying.
    "Most likely Agent Mulder. He's doubtless pacing outside. 
He seems to be, ah, attached to you in some fashion, like a-a 
goiter," Genie said. Her face was deadpan serious.
    Scully considered her words carefully. She had already gone 
further with the young agent than she'd planned so she attempted 
a deflection tactic that worked so well for Mulder -- humor. "Agent
Mulder labors under the illusion I am the only woman who's ever been 
pregnant."
    "Defies logic."
    "Hmm," Scully said.
    "Unless -" Genie said. "Unless you are to him." Scully's 
cheeks colored. "Then it makes perfect sense."
    The two agents stepped aside as first one then the other 
secretary washed her hands, murmured hello, and disappeared.
    "Anyway, I came in here to find you," Scully said at last. 
"AD Skinner has an assignment. Since Agents Doggett and Mulder 
are currently unavailable I asked if I might take you with me. 
I obviously need someone who can move fast." The look on 
Genie's face caused her to add: "You're not going to sing show 
tunes, are you? Because, really, I don't think I could take it 
in my condition."
    "I can teach you all the words," Genie said.
    "Requisition a car, Agent Markham. I'll meet you out 
front." Scully put her hand on a stall door and started 
inside.
    "Agent Scully -- you'll be a terrific mother."
    "Not yours."
    "Ah, no. But somebody's."
    "The car," Scully said.
    "I'll be just a few minutes," Genie's feet shuffled in 
excitement. "I have to make a call. I need to, ah, I'm -"
    "Ten minutes to put your house in order, not one --"
    But the younger agent had disappeared.
    When Scully came out of the restroom a few minutes later 
Mulder peeled himself off the wall with relief. "I thought 
you'd fallen in. I was trying to come up a graceful way to go 
inside and pull you out."
    "I ran into-"
    "Agent Markham," said Mulder. "Giving those maternal 
skills a test drive? When last seen Agent Markham was 
whistling - I believe it was the "The Simple Joys of 
Maidenhood" from 'Camelot'."
    "Oh God." She stopped and rubbed her eyes. "How on earth 
would you recognize that tune?"
   "Deputy Director Kersh won't thank you," Mulder said."She's 
going to be a good agent - probably first on his list to eliminate."
    "Doing my part to raise morale," said Scully.
    "Thinking of going into human resources?"
    "Perhaps."
    "Well, I can attest that you are very good at raising 
morale." He purred in her ear.
    "Careful, or your morale will show," she said. The tiny 
muscles at the corners of her mouth quivered and finally 
turned up. Her heels clipped down the hall and his followed a 
measured step behind.
    "I'll see you later. We can discuss this at length," he 
said.
    "I'm done talking about it." 
    "Even better." He pulled on her elbow. "What's your real 
interest in Markham?"
    Scully looked up and down the hallway, seeing nothing but 
the men hurrying up and down, poking their heads out of doors 
and entry ways in the normal course of business.
    "The easy answer is that I don't want her to wash out. I 
don't want the bureau to lose someone like her," Scully said. 
    "And the hard answer?"
    "I see myself, I suppose. Or someone I like in her." She 
searched his face. "Mulder. . .are you actually shadowing me?"
    "Always travel toward the light, Scully." His grin faded. 
"Do you feel smothered?"
    "No, as long as you're doing it because you want to, not 
because you're afraid not to," she said. 
    "I'm sure in some universe that sounds logical."        
    Glancing down she said, "Women all over the world do this 
every day."
    "No one else in all the world ever has done what you do,"
he said simply.
    Touched, she tried another it another way. "I won't break." 
    "Of that I'm sure."
    "You won't break either," she said. Her jaw set firm.
    "Yes, yes I will. I did. I have."
    "Nothing breaks you unless you allow it. You and Markham." 
Frustration tore her last vestige of patience. "Safe to say 
you scared the hell out of me. The rest is immaterial now." 
She sighed. "You did what you had to do. You always will. I 
couldn't stop that even if I chose to." 
   "Kersh won't let me. . ."
   "Be glad of the living, Mulder, whatever form it takes for 
you."
    Now it was his turn to check the hallway. "If that means I 
wash out?"
    "Wal-Mart is hiring."  When he didn't smile she said, "Are 
you serious?"
    "Life goals change, Scully. Evolve."
    "Not yours."
    "Mutate, then."
    "Mine haven't," she insisted.
    "They have, they will by necessity." Mulder looked in the 
direction Markham took down the hall and Scully followed his 
gaze.
    "What?" 
    "Then again..." Mulder's voice made a husky noise in the 
back of his throat that never failed to make Scully's pulse 
accelerate. "Young Agent Markham seems to have a spirit that 
won't be squashed. And,you have always been in the business
of protecting such spirits," he said. "One of the reasons I'm glad 
to be back."
    "And the others?"
    "Have to do with fingers and toes, waking up in the 
morning, falling asleep at night," he said. "And pizza with 
extra cheese."
    Her laughter made two agents in the FBI library door turn 
to stare. "Try not to make Doggett crazy. He doesn't deserve 
it."
    He did, Mulder knew. For the months he had Scully and 
Mulder didn't, Doggett deserved whatever he got. 
    Mulder watched her disappear into a sudden wave of white 
shirts and dark ties. He envied Agent Markham, innocent killer 
of young bank robbers, the latest person to be targeted for 
salvation by a woman with on the job experience.