(Headers and Disclaimers in Chapter One) Chapter 20 of 20 Scully planned her arrival for rec time. She wore her best don't- fuck-with-me look and her own FBI windbreaker when she returned to prison. She carried an empty cardboard box under her arm and asked Mulder to wait in the lobby. It had taken her a long time to decide on the windbreaker. In the end, she decided it was better not to fly false colors any more. Sgt. Anderson met them at the cell block door. Mulder almost felt sorry for the guard. He didn't recognize Scully in full flight. "You have to be escorted, AGENT Scully." "Fine," she said and shoved the box at him. He accepted it rather than have it pushed into his stomach. They stopped just outside the cell. Scully turned down the row, stared down the guard at the far end. Anderson twirled his arm and the guard opened the door. Anderson smirked at Scully, but it was a wasted gesture. She had already stepped inside. "You are the one. I've been waiting three awful years -" Scully heard Zelda's voice on the still air in the small space. She could scarcely blink back the tears. "Zelda," she whispered. "I miss you." Anderson dropped the empty box on the floor. "You want me -" "Get out," Scully said. "Don't touch anything. Watch if you want, but get the hell out." "Now wait..." "Do you have a problem with that, Sgt. Anderson?" He smirked. "No ma'm. I understand fine." He backed out and leaned against the railing outside the cell. "I understand." It didn't take long, really. The inmates weren't permitted to keep many things in their cells. Scully packed a few of the pictures Zelda had ripped from "National Geographic". "You're honorable. I'm counting on that," Zelda had said. Scully almost hadn't been. It had been so tempting to bury it all deep within her as she had with so many other X-files. Scully threw in a few last items - toiletries, mostly - and found a book on her bunk. It was the one she'd been reading off and on - when she could read - in the rec room. She fingered it for a moment and came out of the cell with a greater sense of purpose. She thrust the book under her arm and the box at Anderson. "Let's go." "Out this way, Agent Scully." She ignored him and walked down the hallway to the rec room. He trailed behind. "Oh, man! I wouldn't-" he began. At the door to Scully stopped and took a deep breath. She took out the book she'd last been reading and patted the photo in her pocket. "Take that box down to my partner. Don't drop it." The talking and laughing stopped immediately when Scully came in. She noted the green chair was vacant. She walked to it, sat down, opened the book and started to read. She had just about decided to turn the fourth page when she saw a pair of feet, then another, move up around the chair. "What," she said irritably. "Laquintia stealing hairbrushes again? I say we shave her head and have done with the problem." More feet. Scully turned the page of her book. As soon as it got quiet and the feet stopped she marked her place and closed the book. Eight pair of eyes, some hostile and some only hurt, glared down at her. More than one woman had clenched fists. They stood poised over her, around her. "You fucked with us good," said the forger. "Bitch," murmured Angela. Laquintia stepped up front. "Shut up! All y'alls," she said. She folded her arms in front of her. "So. You do get around. Where you been this time, Li'l Mama?" "Running," she said. "But I'm here and I will tell you what happened. You want to take this standing up or sitting down?" She waited, but nobody sat. "Okay." Then she told them all of it as much as she knew: the undercover, the mind meld, the book, the robberies, the night Zelda and Bernice died. "Where that book now?" one woman said. "Agent Mulder and AD Skinner offered it to Donaldson in exchange for the videotape which exonerated me. They weren't sure who would show up for the robbery -- or that Donaldson planned to stop the robberies by killing the participants. The FBI had no idea anyone would be hurt or that Bernice wanted to kill me --" "--Huh! The FBI shoudda asked me 'bout that one," Mary said and a few of the women muttered their agreement. "How cum this Donaldson dude kept the deal for the tape," someone asked. "He didn't. He destroyed it. But Amelia had given a copy to some friends for safekeeping -- along with her book. In any event Donaldson thought I would be dead or insane by the end of this operation and not a viable threat to him," Scully said. "Which were ya?" Angela said bitterly. Scully regarded her in silence, then said, "A bit of both, I suppose." "None of that don't answer the question. Where that book now?" the woman in the back said. Scully licked her lips. "I burned it." The women recoiled. "Amelia left it for me. I took it in trust. It brought nothing but misery and unhappiness to everyone who read it, believed in it," she said. "And really, did it tell us anything that we here don't already know about instinct, intuition, and sex?" Somebody snickered. "Couldn't read it no way," said a woman in the back. Everyone began to laugh. "What happens now?" said Laquintia's cell mate. "You give back the money you have. I'll arrange it. No harm, no foul. There will be no additional charges." "My mama, my kids living on that money -what they gonna eat now," one woman wailed. "This ain't much of a deal, Scully," Laquintia said. "That money long gone." "I suspect you can get something from Mr. Donaldson's trust and estate," Scully said. She reached into the pocket of her slacks and handed Byron Water's business card to the woman closest to her. "I know a good attorney." "Getting money from Donaldson." The artist smiled. "That has a certain-." "Je ne sais quoi?" finished Mary. The inmates giggled. "Yeah," said Laquintia. "Jest like that." But the moment passed. "Scott?" said Angela. Scully eased the picture out of her jacket pocket and patted it. She pulled herself out of the chair. "You bring him to see us sometime?" Laquintia said. Scully hesitated. "Sometime-" "What are you gonna to do, Scully? You gonna be okay with all this?" said the forger. In all her thoughts about this moment it never occurred to Scully that the women in her pod would be worried about her. She started to give them the standard answer, the knee-jerk reaction that would be so insulting. Instead she said, "I still have some thinking to do." Impulsively she handed her book to Laquintia. "I don't know how it will turn out." "Scully!" She paused on her way out, to freedom, to her real life. "You never really fit in, ya know," Laquintia said. "That's not how it felt," Scully said. ******************** The three of them - Scully, Mulder and Skinner - sat before the massive cherry desk of the Attorney General of the United States in subdued silence. They took turns studying the flags of the United States and the seal of the office, the maroon carpeting, the photos of the AG with various dignitaries that covered the walls. When she came in with two aides they stood respectfully and she waved them back to their seats. "Sorry for the interruption." She picked up some papers from the desk, signed something, and sent her aides outside. The AG folded her hands on the top of her desk. "You were saying, Agent Mulder?" "That it's unclear who contacted Zelda about the first robbery in New York. We know Bernice and Amelia Peterson drove them after that. We also know Zelda participated willing and both the money she and her mother --" "Henry Donaldson's alter ego--" said the AG. "She lived inside him, ma'm. Two people in the same brain and body," Mulder said. "It's a type of mind-meld--" "Split personality disorder?" the AG said. "Yes," Scully said. Mulder regarded Scully with what she knew to be exasperation, then went on: "We can only surmise that Henry kept Zelda's existence from Amelia." "Amelia wanted to use the robberies not only to fund her charities, but to ruin Henry Donaldson, the man she loved, the man who abused her," Scully said. "She kept her illegal activities from Donaldson." "And Donaldson didn't let Amelia know he had planted Agent Scully in prison and alerted the FBI to the final robbery," said Mulder. The AG dropped a pen on her desk. "Is this possible? Agent Mulder, you're a psychologist. Is it possible for multiple personalities to keep secrets from each other?" "Not only possible, but common," Mulder said." Often one personality doesn't know the other exists. In this case-- " "It is common, m'am, in persons suffering from this disorder for one personality to act contrary to the interest of the other personality," Scully said. She caught another look of surprise from Mulder. "Even so, why was Henry so anxious to have Agent Scully imprisoned and ultimately, murdered?" said the AG. "I don't believe he cared about Agent Scully. At that point in the operation she was neutralized," Skinner said. "It was his plan to murder the two ghostly robbers -- and Agent Scully only if she happened to be in the way instead of insane or credible. His motive was most likely to keep his secrets -- about his Vietnam service, his ability to meld with other minds, and to enhance his stature in this department," Mulder said. "Agent Scully's role was to flush out the robbers, these so-called flyers?" said the AG. "And to keep Donaldson appraised of the time and place of the final target," Scully said. "If you note in the report, he had already sent Special Agent Ann Millard to the prison undercover. She was discovered by the inmates, specifically Bernice Johnson, and driven to suicide," Skinner said. Someone opened the AG's office door and she drove him or her out with an annoyed look. She regarded the trio, each in turn, carefully and critically. "This defies rational explanation," said the AG. "I find in it no plausible connections between the apparently innocent people serving prison terms, my office's involvement and these robberies. You can't expect me to take this all seriously." "I'm sure all those innocent prisoners and their families will be heartened to know you take your job seriously." Mulder rose. "Scully and I can go. We've heard this before." "Mulder..." Scully's voice, soft and low, held a warning. "Sit down, Agent Mulder, I have only begun." The Attorney General adjusted her glasses. "First, I'm concerned about how this affair was handled. You, Mr. Skinner. My first instinct is to ask for your resignation. I don't want anyone working under my auspices who would put their people at such risk. I'm contenting myself with a letter of reprimand to the director. Comment?" "No, ma'm." Skinner said. "Had Donaldson come to you with this undercover proposal, would you have accepted it, Agent Mulder?" "No," Mulder said. "Assigned it?" "No." "That's, in part, why we kept Agent Mulder in the dark," Scully said. She would have added the decision proved wise, but the AG's look did not invite further remarks. "Why not, Agent Mulder." "AD Skinner was right to suspect Donaldson. He did act on his suspicions, by providing me with information I needed." "But he failed to protect Agent Scully's interests." The Attorney General of the United States said. "Agent Scully, once you knew the truth, why did you continue the assignment?" "I didn't have a choice. But even so, my instincts also told me too many lives were at stake. At the time I thought the gains outweighed the risks," she said. "It was an error in judgment." "Was it?" The AG said quietly. "At the risk of pointing out the obvious, it worked," Mulder said. "Whatever you may think of the methods, Scully succeeded in uncovering Amelia's hold over her victims." "You seem to have a genuine love for the outlandish and unbelievable, Agent Mulder," said the AG. "That's why I'm in the basement with the X-Files," he said. "Ah, the X-Files. I thought I was reading Ray Bradbury until I noticed the report was in an FBI jacket," the AG said. She slapped her hand flat on the file atop her desk. Scully and Mulder exchanged a glance in the silence that followed. "These ghost hunts, the X-Files, they seem to mean a lot to you, Agent Mulder-and to Agent Scully." "We think it is important work, yes." "Mr. Skinner?" "I would not recommend continuing the X-Files if I didn't believe they had validity," he said. "There are things we can't explain, things we need to investigate." The AG sighed. "I would not have agreed with that statement a week ago. Now I'm not so certain. I'm not clear about what happened in that prison and to be candid, I'm not certain I want to know." She leaned back and drew straight lines up and down on a blank pad. "What you have accomplished, Agent Scully -and you, Agent Mulder - is do more than raise questions about the paranormal. You've cast doubt on the integrity of this office." The AG leaned back in her chair. "I'm not sure I can forgive you for that, but I admire your spirit." "What about the prisoners?" said Mulder. "Most of the stolen monies have been returned thanks to Agent Scully's intercession with the women prisoners Amelia. Donaldson is in a mental hospital for the rest of his life. What about those who suffered most from his deception?" "Are you talking about Agent Scully?" "In part-" "They will be pardoned-" the AG said. "Pardoned is not the same as exonerated," said Scully. "I'll note that," the AG said coolly. "Donaldson made certain promises to Agent Scully-" Skinner began. "He did not speak for this office," said the AG. Scully turned slightly in her chair, which protested with a squeak. The Attorney General glared at her. "I have contacted Judge Amos McDonald," Skinner said. "I sent him a copy of the videotape that night and today asked that Agent Scully's criminal record be expunged. I can't be bailing her out of jail every time she meets a policeman with a computer in his vehicle." "And Amos agreed?" The AG asked. Skinner nodded. "Well, then that's all that need be said." Mulder opened his mouth as though he had an opinion on that subject, but Scully threw him a look that effectively closed it. She put her hands on the arms of her chair as if to rise. "Gentlemen, you are excused," the Attorney General said. "I'll speak with Agent Scully." The AG played her the pen until the door closed behind the two men. Somewhere in the outer office a telephone rang. The AG's eyes narrowed and Scully read concern as well as displeasure. "I understand how much you suffered on this assignment." "No, ma'm, with respect, you don't. And you won't because you've closed your mind to the possibility of anything you can't touch, taste, smell or see," she said. "I understand why." The AG rubbed her forehead. "You're a scientist yet you believe all this-" She waved her glasses over the file. "I only wrote what I've seen and experienced. I can't explain it all. He - Agent Mulder - has seen much more than I have," she said. "I would be more comfortable bringing you a report with lab results, photographs, computer analysis.. but I can't. Not yet. To give you those hard facts -- that's what I understand my assignment on the X-Files to be." "Not at the cost of your life - or your sanity." The AG said. "You disregarded basic rules we established for the safety of our agents. We invest in your training, your equipment, your experience and we hope you'll live long enough to make that a wise use of public funds." "I saw a chance to legitimize what Agent Mulder and I have worked on for several years, to gain some degree of protection for our efforts. I assumed, incorrectly it now appears, that I was dealing with honorable people." The AG's face reddened. "You're insubordinate!" "Technically, I'm still on suspension," Scully said. "I can say whatever I like, whatever the truth is." "No, you can't, Agent Scully, and neither can I!" Scully held the AG's gaze in fury. The attorney general blinked first. "I know this is not all you hoped for. Your best protection is to make as little noise as possible!" "My best protection is to use the system as it has used me," she said. "I'm fortunate it's an election year and that journalists are such ambitious people." The AG's brow furrowed. "Don't threaten me." Scully drew a photograph out of her jacket pocket as though the AG hadn't spoken. She looked at the photo with a small, sad smile before handing it across the desk. "I'll go back into the basement quietly. But I keep my promises." The Attorney General looked with curiosity at the crinkled photograph of a grinning pixie with blue eyes, her arms draped around the neck of a dark-haired little boy. An hour later as Scully started to leave the AG said, "Your undercover service is already noted, agent. And I will put a letter of commendation in your file. Contrary to what you believe, I do have a conscience and I am grateful for what you've done." The lines in Scully's brow relaxed. "May I ask what changed your mind?" The AG pursed her lips. "Let's just say I don't want someone of your dedication to think I'm not honorable." *** Scully looked for Mulder in the AG's waiting room, but only found Skinner. Her heart sank. She was not surprised. Hurt, but not surprised. She figured she'd have to go search him out, pry him loose again. "He left without a word," Skinner said. "Do you need a ride home?" She shook her head. "Take a couple of weeks, Agent Scully. More if you need it. Maybe you should talk to someone-." Scully shook her head. "I just need some time." "I feel responsible..." Skinner seemed embarrassed. "She was wrong to censure you. You were against it from the first, " Scully said. Then she smiled at the irony. "I wanted to believe." "We didn't make any friends today," Skinner said. She was too tired to argue. "I'll be at my mother's." Scully walked to the elevator and took the first car that arrived. She didn't care if it was going up or down, she just wanted to be on the move. Mulder always said their quest to prove the X-Files lead them one step forward and two back. The same might be said of other aspects of their lives, she thought. She wearied of it and never more than now. A long white envelope lay in the passenger seat of her rented car. It was attached to a new cell phone with clear tape. When she opened the envelope, a key fell out. She grasped it in her fist, feeling its comfortable weight before she opened the paper it was wrapped in. As she read the note a smile spread across her face, radiating down her body and throwing the weight off her shoulders. She turned on the car ignition and picked up the cell phone. It amused her to see he had already programmed his number on speed dial. "Mulder, it's me." "What did she say?" "She'll arrange it." "Congratulations, it's a boy. Where are you?" "Heading south. I'll stop and get some clothes." "Keep going south," he said. "Forget clothes and follow the map." "What about food?" "You won't starve. I'm a trained survivalist." "How could I forget?" "If I'm not here, you have a key," he said. "Come and go whenever you want." Her fingers reached into her pocket for reassurance. How did he know such a thing would mean so much to her? "Where will you be?" "Oh, doing survival stuff -- laying in provisions, digging privies, baiting bear traps..." "Of course." "Scully..." "Mulder?" "Hurry." Now it was fall, she told herself. She flipped the vent open and lowered the windows a little at the top. The car seemed to glide down the interstate passed the brilliant colors of red, yellow, orange that adorned the trees. Scully wallowed in the sheer power of steering the car down the open road and in the sensuality of thundering drums that poured from the radio. She actually missed the booming percussion of the rec room music. Scully followed the directions and found herself on a dirt road in a state park, driving carefully on rutted roads to the edge of a lake. More than 20 wooden steps lead down the hill to a cabin by the water. It looked new, luxurious. She put her hand on the railing for balance. The view from the top of the staircase nearly took her breath away. She could see miles of hills and water and blue sky over the tops of the trees. It was all so large, so open, so limitless. The lake sparkled in the light of the late afternoon sun. Next to the cabin's wooden deck, a small rowboat bobbed gently against the dock. A cloudless sky lent a deep blue backdrop to the riotous fall colors encircling the lake. Looking around once again, Scully inhaled deeply. "Are you coming the rest of the way?" Mulder said from the bottom of the stairs. His worn blue jeans fit him loosely and the long-sleeved tee shirt had a hole in the pocket. She felt distinctly overdressed. "This is beautiful," she said, meaning both the view and the man. She noticed he carried two fishing rods. "Scully-" "Mulder?" "Hurry." Suddenly the only thing constraining her were the clothes she wore; she felt truly free. Laughing aloud she marched down the stairs deliberate step by deliberate step. On the eighth step she removed her jacket and let it fall across her arm. On the eleventh step she paused long enough to drop one shoe off and put it in her hand. On the twelfth step the second shoe came off. Her belt looped over railing on the sixteenth step. Mulder leaned the poles against the steps, not caring that they toppled over immediately, and waited for her. She saw his fingers wiggling, as if he couldn't wait to touch her. Breaking into a sly smile she stepped into his arms from the nineteenth step and burrowed into the warm place between his neck and shoulder. "God, it's good to be home," Scully mumbled. It was a prayer. "We survivalists fish for our supper," Mulder said, nuzzling her ear, kissing her neck. "How hungry are you?" "Very," she said, grabbing his mouth with hers. His hands pulled her blouse out of the back of her skirt and reached for bare skin. "I got steaks- in case the fish thing didn't work out," he managed to say between kisses. "Later," she said, plunging one hand through his hair and kneading his shoulder with the other. "Much." He lifted her into his arms and carried her into the cabin. #### Author's Notes and Thanks: One of the fun things about writing fan fiction is meeting other talented people and working with them. My thanks, therefore, to beta readers mgreten, and Fran58. But especially to Fran, whose POV is irritating accurate. And to Mary G who took the time to explain how things were set up, catch errors and cope with the organizational mess that was "Prison". She never tired of editing and was unflagging in her encouragement. I can't tell you how much fun I had.