Title: Twist
Author: fran58

See part one for headers.

Twist part two

Special Agent Alan Pittman was having a bad day.  It had started with a
head cold that morning.  The day was made worse by the fact that his
girlfriend, Dora, was still angry and not talking to him.  Now he was
standing outside his supervisor’s office for a nine a.m. appointment.
His
supervisor was late, which was odd in and of itself.  She was almost
frighteningly punctual, and her lateness only added to Pittman’s anxiety
at
this meeting.  Alan paced nervously outside her office and glanced at
the
maze of cubicles that filled the large, open office outside her office
door.  He felt uncharacteristic longing to be in his own little box,
safe,
at his desk.  He swallowed and hoped his hands weren’t sweating too
much.

“Hey, Pittman,” a smooth voice startled Alan.  “Waiting for the big
meeting? Relax a little.  It can’t be that bad.”  Richard Lawson
smirked.  “I can think of worse things than being swallowed whole by
your
boss woman.”

Alan had a sudden image of his ‘boss woman’ on her knees in front of
him.
He fought to control his blush.  Just the image he needed, thought
Pittman.  As if he weren’t discombobulated  enough already.  Lawson was
from one of the other departments, a sub-department of Internet Fraud,
housed in the same area as the X-Files. His office cube was kitty-corner

from Alan’s. In Alan’s opinion, guys like Lawson were a pain.  Richard’s

suits were never wrinkled.  The dark blue one he was wearing today
looked
impeccably pressed and cleaned.  Next to him, Pittman felt dowdy and
rumpled.   Even his name had a thrumming, all American cocksure quality.

Alan would have liked to take the blond, blue-eyed, broad-shouldered son
of
a bitch and...

“Good morning, Agent Pittman, sorry to keep you waiting”

“Ah, good morning Agent Scully.”  Pittman scrambled to follow her into
her
office.  He could feel Lawson still smirking at his back.

Agent Scully, too, looked impeccable.  Every shiny hair in place, nice
coal
grey slacks and black blazer.  The only thing out of sync were the
smudgy
circles under her eyes.

“Have a seat.” Scully indicated the chair in front of her desk.  She
went
around to the other side and set her briefcase down .  Alan waited for
her
to sit down before taking a seat himself.  Grandma would have been
proud.

Scully opened her briefcase and began pulling files out of it and
dumping
them on the neat desk.  Pittman took the opportunity to look around.  He

had not been an agent long, and had not been in his supervisor’s office
often.  It was not large, but comfortable enough.  There were no
‘look-at-
me trophies’, as Pittman was apt to call prominently hung awards and
framed
copies of photo-ops.  Her medical certification hung discreetly in a
corner, partially obscured by a large Swedish Ivy that hung near the one

small window to the right of her desk.  Well, *her* right, my left, he
thought.  He wondered what things had been like when the X-Files had
been
housed in the basement.

Still arranging files and papers on her desk, Scully looked up at him,
light filtering in through the window and across the top of her
the-wind-
wouldn’t-dare-disturb-my-coif head.  “I wanted to talk to you about that

report you were supposed to turn in to the VCS.”

“Yes, ah, yes Ma’am.  I walked that down to them two days ago.”

Scully raised her eyebrows.  “You did?  I got a message from the AD that

said the report had still not been turned in.”

Pittman shook his head.  “I turned it in myself.  Like I said, I walked
it
down.  After the first one got lost, I thought I would make sure this
one
got to the right place.  I handed it to the receptionist myself.”

Scully nodded.  “Do you still have a copy of the report?”

“Well, actually, I do.  At my girlfriend’s.  For some reason I can’t
find
it on my hard drive here - I’m not sure what happened.  I could have
sworn
I saved it.”  He rubbed his chin absently.  “Couple of things have been
missing lately.  Can’t figure it out.”

Agent Scully looked at him sharply and bit back a yawn.  Abruptly, she
stood and walked to the door, motioning Pittman to follow.  She walked
past
the reception and bullpen areas and out into the hall.

“Agent Pittman, do you think you could get a copy of the information in
that report to me?”  She walked slowly as she spoke.

“Yeah, sure.”

“I’d like to pick it up somewhere outside the Bureau.”

Pittman nodded.  “That’s - sure, ok.”  He shifted.  “Why not just do it
here?”

“This isn’t the first time this has happened.  I’m beginning to think
that
someone is ‘losing’ your report on purpose.”

“Why would someone do that?”

Scully shrugged vaguely.  “Any number of reasons, Agent Pittman.  I
think
we should take precautions, okay?  You just told me that you had other
information go missing.  I just want to be careful.”

Alan nodded, not really understanding, but unwilling to pursue the
point.

*************************

The house looked cold and alone in the rain.  The blinds were drawn, and
a
week’s worth of newspapers lay piled against the front door.  Mulder sat

back in the car.  The radio blared a commercial for a new fast food
place,
the windshield wipers slapped back and forth rhythmically, transfixing
him.  Slowly, he turned the car key, shutting off the ignition.  It was
suddenly too quiet.

Inside, the house wasn’t much better.  The air was damp and chilly, the
rooms were dark.  Mulder dropped his things with a ‘plop’ in the master
bedroom on the un-made sheets.  He turned up the heat, hoping to drive
away
the dank feeling in the air and in his bones.  He checked the answering
machine.  Nothing.  Karen hadn’t called – wasn’t likely to, he guessed.
He
wasn’t sure he could stand to stay in the house without her.  Things
were
not right between them, but he still missed her presence, a small,
incessant tugging at his heart.

He wandered into the kitchen.  Normally, it was light and airy. Art
Deco-
style appliances blended with the rich wood of a by-gone era.  Today, it

was dark and empty, the rain slipping down the windows made them seem
like
they were covered in dirty plastic.  Unwashed dishes hunkered down in
the
sink, entrenched for a long stay.

Mulder half-heartedly began gathering up the discarded pizza boxes
strewn
about the table and counters.  All ambition had drained away, and he
found
himself wondering why he should bother.  After all, he was just going to

mess the place up again.  Karen wouldn’t be back for a couple of weeks.
He
had plenty of time to straighten up.  Letting the boxes drop, he made
his
way back out to the front room.  It was less disorganized than the
kitchen,
but not by much.  On most occasions, being in this room comforted
Mulder.
He found its blues and greens peaceful, the sturdy furniture
comfortable.
He moved to the picture window that dominated the room and peered out
onto
the street, carefully avoiding the plant stand.

It was a pleasant street in a pleasant neighborhood.  The kind of
neighborhood where regular people lived.  It was just tattered enough
around the edges to not be pretentious.  Across from his own house,
Mulder
could see that the Cavelli’s daughter had left her bike out again.  As
he
watched, it teetered for a moment in the increasing wind, then tipped
into
the bushes that lined the front of his neighbor’s house.  The bright red
of
the bike against the green of the leaves had an off-kilter festive
look.  A
white plastic bag skittered by along the sidewalk, hovered for a moment
in
Mulder’s front yard, then was swooped up by the wind into the branches
of
the sugar maple in the front yard.  One more thing for Mulder to clean
up.

His folks would have hated this neighborhood.  Mulder liked it.
Normally
it gave him a sense of belonging, but not today.  He wondered if he
should
try to call Scully – he wanted to call, but held back.  He really had no

particular reason to get in touch, and she had made it clear that she
didn’t appreciate his surprise visit.  Mulder moved to the front door
and
pulled it open, blinking in the onslaught of rain.  He hadn’t bothered
to
bring the newspapers in for several days.  They lay in front of him, a
soggy heap.  He bent down and scooped up them up, quickly closing  the
door.  He wiped his face with an errant end of his shirt.

In the kitchen, he fished out the current paper and tossed the rest into

the recycling bin in the back hall.  He rummaged through the
refrigerator
and finally found a lone Leinenkugel’s Red hiding behind the spoiled
milk.
Twisting off the cap, Mulder liked the feel of the cold liquid sliding
down
his throat, relishing the yeasty taste of the beer.  He headed back to
the
front room, paper tucked under his arm.  Dropping to the couch, he
turned
to the sports section, but stopped when a brightly colored flyer drifted

down onto his chest.  He picked it up.

Mulder smiled.  Perfect.  Just what he needed.

********************

The answering machine light blinked incessantly.  Scully studiously
ignored
it until she had divested herself of her work clothes and started
dinner.
On her way out of the kitchen back to the bedroom, she stopped by the
phone
and hit the ‘play’ button.

“Hey, Scully.” It was Mulder’s voice.  “I know it’s late notice, but I
thought if you weren’t busy tomorrow I’d stop by and take you on a
little
excursion.  Leave a message on my cell phone voice mail.  If it’s a go,
I’ll be at your place by 7:00 – yeah, in the morning.  Don’t dress up.”

How like Mulder to be so cryptic.  Why couldn’t he just say what he had
in
mind?

Irritated, she stabbed at the ‘erase’ button on the answering machine.
Before she could take a step, however, the phone trilled at her.  Scully

frowned, glancing at the caller ID window.  Seeing her mother’s number
come
up, she reached for the handset.

“Hi, Mom, I just got in.  What’s up?”  She trailed into the kitchen,
wedging the telephone handset between her shoulder and ear as she
checked
the pasta she had started earlier. Captain Marvel leapt to the counter
to
look on as Scully poked at a tortellini, watching it bob up and down in
the
water.  She reduced the burner’s heat.

They talked of odd and ends; Bill and Tara’s new car, the color of the
mums
blooming in her mother’s front yard, plans to have lunch in the next
couple
weeks.

“I had an odd call recently.”  Maggie said.  “It was Fox.”

“What did he want?”

“I’m not really sure.  He was... vague.”

“Go figure,” Scully mumbled.

“We had a quick chat,”  Maggie continued hesitantly.  “Have you spoken
with
him?”

Scully sighed.  “He stopped by here to... talk, I guess.  And he left a
message on the machine tonight asking if I was available for an ‘outing’

tomorrow.”

“What kind of an outing?”  Her mother’s voice held a note of wariness.

“I don’t know, Mom.  Just Mulder being mysterious.  Par for the course.”

“Are you going?”

“Probably not.”  Scully suddenly didn’t want to discuss this.  The
emotions
Mulder’s visit had churned up were still skittering just under the
surface,
ready to fly out if any chink were detected.

“Might not hurt just to find out what he wants.”  Despite her words,
Maggie
sounded doubtful.

Scully fidgeted and bit her tongue.

“It isn’t that easy, Mom.”

A sigh traveled along the wire.  “I know.  I’m afraid I wasn’t very
accommodating myself.”

Scully replaced the handset in its cradle,  turning her mother’s words
and
Mulder’s invitation over in her mind.  For all the resentment that still

lingered, she was intrigued by Mulder’s call.  He still had it, she
thought
dourly, an irresistible pull that went straight to the marrow.  She
should
tell him no, she should let it be.  Mulder was married, and nothing was
the
same.  Could ever be the same.

**********************

Mulder was early.  Still in her robe, Scully opened the door to find him

wearing his leather jacket and a smile.  At least she thought it was a
smile.  It was difficult to tell behind the broad leaves of the large
plant
he held in his arms.

“You brought a plant?  What kind of expedition is this, Mulder?”

“The plant is for you.  It looked lonely.  I thought it might like your
company.”  Mulder moved through the apartment and set the plant on the
kitchen table.

“That’s very thoughtful, Mulder, but I don’t know that I can have room
to
accommodate another plant.”  Scully closed the door and turned to look
at
Mulder.

“I’m trying to make nice, Scully.  It’s a *peace* lily, get it?”

“Ah, gotcha.  There’s coffee if you want some.”  She turned and
disappeared
into the bathroom.

Mulder set the over-sized plant on the kitchen table.  A small noise
from
the kitchen made him turn.  Half expecting to see Leandro Vega in his
shorts, Mulder was surprised to find an even younger man, in jeans and
blue
pullover, rinsing out a porcelain mug.  The man set it carefully next to

the sink.  He nodded to Mulder.

“I’m Alan Pittman.  Nice to meet you Mr. Mulder.”

Mulder raised his eyebrows.  Mister?  “Just Mulder’s fine.  And you know

who I am because...”

“I work at the Bureau.  I, umm, people still talk.  About you, I mean.”

“Great.  Zippity doo dah.”

“No, I didn’t – I’ve always wanted to meet you.  It’s too bad you aren’t
at
the Bureau anymore.  I would have loved a chance to work with you.”

“Yeah, you say that now...”  Mulder let his voice trail off and wondered

what the hell Scully was doing.  As if on cue, she walked into the
kitchen,
still dressed in her robe.  “Nice threads, Scully.  Nice that you
dressed
for company.”

She scowled at him.  “Agent Pittman was early, too.  Normally I would
have
changed but Agent Pittman was in a hurry”

Not in such a hurry that he couldn’t have a cup of coffee, thought
Mulder.

“I really do need to go.”  Pittman started for the door and Scully
followed.

After she had closed the door behind him, she turned back to Mulder.

“They’re getting younger and younger, Scully.  Hope I don’t end up
bailing
you out of the hoosegow for trolling the high schools.”

Scully bit the tip of her tongue.  No, she wouldn’t take the
bait.  “Pittman’s one of the agents working on the X-Files now, Mulder.”

“Ah, I see.  You’re his boss to boot.  It keeps getting better.”

Scully breathed a long suffering sigh.  “Nice, Mulder.”  She waved a
manila
folder at him.  “He was just dropping of some information.  His
girlfriend
lives a few blocks away.”  She frowned at Mulder.  “I’ll get you some
coffee.  At least if it doesn’t put you in a better mood, your mouth
will
be occupied.”

Scully moved to the kitchen and took a clean mug from the cupboard above

the counter.  As she reached up, the loose sleeve of her robe fell back,

and Mulder noticed a triptych of bruises along the inside of her arm.

He took the mug from her outstretched hand and asked,  “What happened to

your arm?”

Confusion clouded Scully’s face for a moment, then cleared.  “Oh, that –

hazards of the job, I guess.”

She turned and headed for the bedroom, calling over her shoulder,  “Help

yourself.  I’ll be right back.  I’m basically ready, I just need to get
changed.”

Mulder poured himself a cup of coffee and glanced around Scully’s tidy
kitchen, noting the bowl of cat food and water on the floor, tucked out
of
the way.  He didn’t see the orange monster around.  That was good.  He
didn’t need to be mauled again.

A few minutes later Scully emerged from the hall, pulling on a jacket.
“So
where are we off to?”

“The Apple Holler Fest.”

“The what?”

“The Apple Holler Fest.  It isn’t too far from my house –  although --
it
will probably take us about ninety minutes or so to get there from here.

There’s a fortune teller I want to check out.  And they have an Elvis
look-
a-like contest.  For produce.  Let’s move, Scully.”

“Want to tell me why we need to get to the Apple Holler Fest so early?
Was
it really necessary to get me up at the crack of dawn on the weekend?”

Mulder pursed his lips.  “I didn’t wake you up, Scully, young Agent
Pittman
was here first.”

Scully closed her eyes briefly, battling annoyance.  “True, but I
wouldn’t
have told Alan he could come over so early if I hadn’t had to get up
anyway
for this little ‘outing’.”

Mulder glanced at his watch.  “Well, It’s almost 7:30 now.  We want to
be
on time for the opening ceremony at 9:30.  That’s when they unveil the
lucky Elvis contest participants.”

“For produce.”

“Yeah.”

Scully blew out a huff of air.  “Opening ceremony.  Right.”  She moved
past
him into the kitchen and dutifully shut the coffee maker down then
checked
the cat’s food and water.  “Okay, fine, let’s hit the road.”

********************

“Look, Mulder, you can go look at the squash that looks like Elvis if
you
want.  I’m going to grab something to eat.”

“Come on, Scully, I...”  Mulder’s voice trailed off as he gazed past
Scully’s shoulder.  Without warning, he reached down and grabbed her
hand
and began moving across the festival grounds.

“Mulder!  Stop!”  Scully dug her heels into the ground, effectively
slowing
Mulder down.  “What are you doing?”

“She’s about to close down, Scully,” he said, pointing at a white tent
with
rainbow stripes staked out next to the soft pretzel vendor.

Scully squinted in the direction Mulder had indicated.  “Madam Zorina,
Fortunes and Futures?  You go ahead.  I’ll wait.”

“No,” he began tugging on her hand.  “We both go.”

“Fine, Mulder.  Then we get something to eat.”

Mulder nodded.  “Agreed.”

The woman, who Mulder thought must be Madam Zorina, was indeed getting
ready to leave.  She was about seventy, with silvery grey hair pulled
back
in a loose ponytail, jeans and sweatshirt visible under her just
unzipped
indigo robe.  She looked up abruptly as they entered.

“I’m sorry, I was just heading for home.”

Mulder nodded.  “I know, but could I talk you into a couple of last
minute
fortunes?  There’s an extra ten in it for you.”

Madam Zorina stepped forward, scrutinizing Mulder, her robes swaying
with
movement.  Her eyes were an unusual shade – almost turquoise – and her
face
was covered with fine, soft lines.  Madam Zorina reached out a hand and
laid it on Mulder’s arm, still gazing at him.  She glanced sharply in
Scully’s direction before saying, “No charge.  It’s on the house.”

Mulder grinned.  “Cool, a free fortune.”

Madam Zorina continued to stare at Mulder.  “Give me your right hand.”

Mulder dutifully presented his hand.  The fortune teller took it in both
of
hers and just held it for a moment, then shook her head, mumbling,  “It
isn’t you.”

“What isn’t me?”

Madam Zorina didn’t answer.  Instead, she was now staring at Scully with

the same intense gaze she had fixed on Mulder.  Blinking, she turned her

attention back to the man standing in front of her.  “You’re a good
man.  A
little too impulsive, but you mean well.  Cut yourself some slack,
things
will get better.”  The woman suddenly smiled.  “One more thing, animals
can
tell when you’re afraid of them.”

She straightened her back and turned to Scully.  “You’re turn.  Give me
your right hand.”  Reluctantly, Scully stretched out her right hand, the

sleeve of her sweater pulling back to reveal the bruises Mulder noticed
earlier.

Taking the outstretched hand, the fortune teller nodded to
herself.  “Violence, pain, control.  Passion –  compassion, too.”

The woman’s grip tightened.  Mulder thought for a moment Scully might
pull
her hand away.

The woman went on.  “He will find out.  It’s inevitable.  Do not fear
the
consequences.  It’s useless to try to control them in this case, it will

only make things more difficult.  The flesh is easily satiated, but the
spiritual pain you try to lessen with the physical cannot be eradicated
in
that way.  You need to open yourself, you need to cut the bonds...”

She met Scully’s eyes and held them for a moment.  “There’s more, but I
don’t think you really need to hear it.  I think you already know.”

Scully swiftly pulled her hand in and backed away from the woman,
clearly
unbalanced.  She pushed the sleeve of her sweater back down and squared
her
shoulders.

“Let’s go, Mulder,” she said and turned to leave the tent abruptly.

Mulder thanked the woman and tried to pay her, but she waved him away, a

wisp of white hair falling over her eyes.  On his way out of the tent,
he
realized that the bruises he saw that morning had been on Scully’s left
arm, not her right.  He glanced back at Madam Zorina, but she had
disappeared out the back of the tent.  An unwelcome thought insinuated
its
way into Mulder’s brain.

********************

cont'd in part three