"Released After Routine Questioning"

Name: Branwell

E-Mail: COMBS-BACHMANN@WORLDNET.ATT.NET

Date Finished: Sept. 8, 1999

Rating: R, Language.

Category: V, A, M/S Friendship, post-ep
Vignette, Mulder/Scully Friendship,
Post-ep, "The Red and the Black"
Archiving permission: Anyone may archive this. Just keep my name
with it.

Disclaimer: Chris Carter, David Duchovny, Gillian Anderson, and
Ten Thirteen productions created and own the characters you
recognize. My writing is for fun, not profit.

Thanks: I owe thanks, as always, to Pellinor's incomparable "Deep
Background." I would also like to thank bugs for words of
encouragement and advice.

Summary: At the end of the episode "The Red and the Black",
Mulder evaded security and fired his weapon within the
jurisdiction of Wiekamp AFB. I assume he was questioned
aggressively and then released. This vignette describes a
scene from the trip home.
+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

At three A.M. I stopped at a rest area. There were eight or ten
trucks pulled off to the right, their motors humming in the dark.
I didn't expect to find much activity. There wasn't much tourist
traffic this time of year.

It was damp and chilly. I could see a fine mist around the lights
in the parking lot. There was one other car, but no sign of a
person. In the building it was too warm. I heard water running in
the ladies' room. When I went into the men's room I remembered
what I hated about these places. Breathing was like smelling piss
through a perfumed dryer sheet.

It must have bothered somebody else more than me. I heard him
puking his guts out in the last stall while I stood at the
urinal. I was shaking off the last few drops when there was the
sound of a long, slow, slide from the corner.

I bent over and looked across. Sure enough, the occupant was laid
out on the floor. His cheek was on the tiles and his eyes were
closed. All he needed was a good-night kiss. His face was pale
even next to the white toilet.

His legs stuck way out from under the door. The trousers had to
be silk, and those shoes cost more than I make in a week. Cinta
used to bring magazines home from the grocery with pictures of
men dressed like that. Her eyes would flick back and forth
between me and the magazine when she thought I wasn't watching.

I'd leave him to sleep it off. Maybe he'd learn something. The
worst that would happen would be getting his wallet lifted. Then
the poor guy would have to wait until his secretary cancelled a
boat load of credit cards before he could bend her over his desk
and fuck her.

There was a tiny woman standing outside the door to the men's
room. She sent me a loud message with one hard stare. "Back off."
Bullets probably bounce off her. I suppose she thought I'd drag
her into my van and rape her if she smiled at me. Just because
I'm big and male. Maybe the tattoos bothered her. Instead of
someone like me, she'd always trust the guy in the custom made
suit and expensive hair cut. Right up to the minute he dumped her
in a strange city with no money and no friends.

Her hair must glow like fall leaves when she's in the sun. The
glare from the sodium lights outside gave it a pinkish color. She
still looked good though. No extra pounds on her. Next to her
Cinta might seem a little chunky.

Of course she was waiting for the jerk poured out on the men's
room floor. I wondered if she knew what she was in for when she
signed on to be his designated driver. I was telling myself to
let it alone when her mask slipped for just a second. It was like
seeing Mom when the doctor came out to tell us how Dad's bypass
operation went. She was dying of worry inside, but she knew
everyone expected her to control herself.

"Um, if it's your friend in there, he's having a problem." I
spoke first, always ready to trouble trouble.

"What kind of problem?" she shot back, rolling up onto her
tiptoes, ready to go into action.

"He went to sleep. Or maybe he passed out." I mumbled the last
part. She had to wonder why I didn't do something about it
sooner. If she was wondering she didn't stop to say anything.

I followed her in and watched. It was amazing. She scooted under
the stall door beside him. The front of her pantsuit wiped the
floor and she didn't seem to care. She opened the door from
inside and then got down on her knees beside him.

I stood and watched. "Does he always drink like this?" I asked,
trying to sound nasty. There was no shame in leaving a drunk to
take the consequences. I hadn't had a drink in five years, four
months, and fifteen days. But who was counting?

"He hasn't been drinking. He's been under a lot of stress. A
lot," she repeated. Meanwhile her hands were moving over him and
she looked under his eyelids. Then she took a handkerchief out of
his pocket and put it between his face and the floor. Before she
flushed it she inspected the vomit, as cool and careful as if it
was a road map.

"He hasn't been able to keep anything down since this morning. If
he can't drink something soon he'll have to go to a hospital and
be hydrated intravenously." She blinked and twisted her hands. I
could tell how much she hated seeing him stretched out on that
grubby, piss-smelling floor.

"I could get him out of there." I volunteered, like the rawest
recruit at boot camp. Why didn't I just ask her to admire my
muscles?

"Could you?" She wanted to believe me. Then something reminded
her to be careful. "I try not to make the mistake of assuming
that a big man can lift heavy things. Sometimes there's a heart
condition or back problem he doesn't like to talk about. Are you
sure it's all right?" She sounded like a teacher. Not a mean one
---just strict.

It was thoughtful of her. She didn't know I had nothing much to
do in my spare time lately except work out. I've still got a hell
of a gut, but I can bench press more than two hundred fifty on a
good day. Her boyfriend wasn't going to push my limits.

"Where do you want me to take him?" I asked.

"Out of here. Can you put him in the car if I open the door?"

"No problem." Brave words. It was going to be tricky. There
wasn't enough room for me to squat down next to him. "I'll tell
you what. Why don't I lift his head and shoulders, and you take
his feet and we'll slide him out. Then I can pick him up."

She nodded and stepped outside to let me move to the back of the
stall. I lifted his shoulders with my hands, letting his head
rest on my arms. I pushed while she pulled on his legs

This guy might never know if women loved him for himself or his
hair. It was thick and dark. A little bit long. I wondered if it
was like being a woman with big tits. She could never be sure if
it was her or them that got the attention.

If I didn't shave myself bald, I'd be damn close to it anyway.
I'm lucky. There's no confusion over why women are attracted to
me. It's my small dick, guaranteed to be painless. It has to be
that, 'cause there isn't anything else.

Outside the stall I had enough room to get a solid footing and I
didn't have to worry about cracking his head on the toilet on the
way up. He was awful long. A lot of leg hung over my left arm,
but he didn't weigh over a hundred and seventy. Once I ran up a
flight of stairs carrying Ozzie to show off. He weighs close to
two hundred pounds.

The woman wet a couple of paper towels at the sink. Then she
hurried ahead and held the doors for me. She had the car door
open and the passenger seat reclined halfway to horizontal before
I got there. I settled her boyfriend into the seat as well as I
could. It seemed to me like he might be coming around.

The girlfriend thought so too. She kind of pushed me out of the
way and used the paper towels to wipe his face off. Then she
started stroking his cheek. "Mulder. Mulder, it's me, Scully. Can
you open your eyes?"

His eyes fluttered open. For a minute I thought he was going to
pass out again. He fooled me and stayed with us. His eyes moved,
but not his head. I wondered if it hurt. He was trying to figure
out what was going on.

Then she smiled for the first time. It was at him of course.
Maybe she didn't smile often, but lack of practice didn't hurt
her performance. If she'd looked at me that way I would've lit up
with 1000 watts of happy. He gave her a weak smile back.

"I shouldn't have let you go in there alone," she said. Her hand
was still on his cheek.

His smile mutated into a leer. "You don't need an excuse Scully.
I'll let you hold it for me anytime I have to take a leak."

Her own smile went out, like a spotlight that took a hit from a
sniper. She pulled her hand back and swallowed. Maybe she was
deciding not to say something back. Or maybe she's like me and
never thinks of the perfect comeback until the next day. She
wasn't the kind to cry.

"Excuse me," I broke in. "I can stay here with him while you get
a drink. If you want."

He hadn't noticed me before. I could tell by the 'Oh shit'
expression that crossed his face when he realized I'd been there
the whole time. She sized me up again and nodded.

"Thanks. I'll be right back." She walked fast toward the vending
area.

"Bet you never thought you'd be adding 'Nanny' to your resume."
He managed to insult both of us.

We listened to the truck motors for a minute. I was probably
giving him a funny stare.

"What are you looking at?" This time I could hardly hear him. He
sounded as sullen as a kid caught with a cigarette.

"Why do you talk to your girlfriend like that?" I asked. I
figured he wasn't in any shape to turn this into a fight, and he
deserved some aggravation.

He frowned and winced. I noticed a purplish swelling on his
cheek. He must've bruised it when he fainted. "She's not my
girlfriend. Not that it's any of your business. She's my partner
and she lives to say 'I told you so.' Can't I even defend
myself?"

"And the best defense is a good offense, right? Well, relax. You
blasted any dangerous missiles loaded with warm, gooey feelings
before they left their silos."

I felt as mean as him after I spoke. He had this hurting,
confused expression.

It reminded me of Pete when he shot his first deer. He was the
only one of us to hit a deer that season. We congratulated him
while we watched it die. I was the only one who knew Pete was
torn up about it. I knew he was telling himself he'd done the
right thing, and he wasn't buying it. He never went hunting
again.

This was none of my business.

"I'm sorry. It's none of my business. Where are you and your
partner headed?"

"Back to D.C."

"What's your line of work? There's not much out here but the
base. Are you contractors at Wiekamp?"

"No. It's a long story. I'm too dry to tell it."

His partner walked up to us empty-handed. "Do you have any
change?" she asked me, pulling out a dollar bill. "The machine
keeps rejecting my dollars."

"Stupid machine," I said. "Here." I gave her a handful of change.

Pizza delivery guys get plenty of change. We'd like more bills.

Up until I was abducted I owned a body shop. Afterwards I
couldn't concentrate. The group took up so much time, and it
seemed like booze was the only thing that kept away the fear.
Outside the group Cinta was the one person who didn't give me
that "I'm OK, You're fucking nuts" fisheye. In less than a year
the sheriff was tacking up auction signs.

Mulder grabbed the chance to place an order. "I want coffee
Scully. I'm cold." He shivered. It was probably genuine. Then he
looked up at her. There was something like fear in his eyes.

"You know coffee acts as a diuretic. That's the last thing you
need right now." I could hear the distance in her voice. The
teacher was back. There would be no more nonsense from anybody.

He huddled up in the seat. She leaned in closer to him. I saw her
start to reach for him and stop herself. "I'll start the car and
run the heater on high," she said.

She got in on the other side and turned the heater on full blast.
Mulder's door still stood wide open, so I shut it. His eyes were
closed now. I could see he was saying something. Then he reached
his hand blindly across the seat to her. I didn't realize how
high and tight he'd been holding his shoulders until they relaxed
when she put her hand in his grasp.

They sat for a minute before Scully got out and marched off. He
straightened his seat and rolled the window down.

"What are you doing on this road from nowhere to elsewhere?" he
asked me. He sounded almost cheerful now.

"I'm going to pick up a friend in Calhoun. She got stranded
there."

"Tough luck. You must be very good friends if she feels free to
call you out in the middle of the night."

"She used to be my old lady. She took off six months ago with
this guy she worked for. Turned out he starts pyramid schemes and
disappears. She called me and said he'd left her with ten dollars
in her pocket and a suitcase of clothes."

I almost laughed at his expression. He didn't know what to say. I
didn't care. It was worth the humiliation to see him speechless.
But that didn't last. I guess Mulder had never heard the one
about curiosity and the cat.

"So, you forgive her? Why? I mean, she betrayed you. She didn't
call you until she needed something."

"I hit her once. Five years, four months and fifteen days ago. I
changed myself and she forgave me."

"Oh. I get it. Guilt." He nodded.

How stupid he was to think it could all be summed up in one word.

"No. Not just guilt. Or even mostly. She forgave me. And I
stopped being such a prick. Even after she left I owed her, for
teaching me not to be such a prick. Now she's made a mistake and
it's my turn to give her a chance."

I heard slow footsteps. When I turned around I saw Scully coming
toward us. She balanced two cans in her right hand and carried a
cup in the left. When she reached the car she held the cans out
to her partner until he took them.

"If you drink both those AND eat these," she told him, "You can
have this coffee." She pulled a bag of pretzels out of her pocket
and waved the coffee under his nose. "You don't want to go to the
hospital, do you?" she ended. She set the coffee on the roof of
the car and tossed the pretzels in his lap. Without another word
she grabbed a can from him, popped the top and handed it back. It
was Sunny D.

They didn't need any more help I could give them.

"If you're going to be OK I'm going to head on out."

"Yes," she said. I knew she'd be relieved to see me go after what
I heard.

There was something she'd forgotten. I had a bet with myself that
she'd remember it, but it looked like I was going to lose. Then
Miss Manners came through.

"Thank you very much Mr. .... I didn't catch your name."

"Just call me Dutch."

"Dutch. Thanks for helping us. We should have introduced
ourselves before. He's Agent Mulder. I'm Agent Scully. We're with
the FBI."

Holy shit! Federal agents. I didn't let my face change but I was
sweating now. Had They found out about our surveillance of
Wiekamp? My guns were locked in the van. Damn that was careless.
These characters seemed pretty clueless, but They could use
anybody as pawns. It was lucky I hadn't told him where Cinta
really was. Careful habits pay off.

But They could have the Grays on my tail right now.

"You're welcome. Good luck," I told them. I managed not to run to
my van, and I didn't start speeding until the rest stop was out
of sight.

Ten miles up I made myself stop and I got out one of my rifles. I
put it right next to me on the seat. Then I was real careful
about the speed limit. I didn't want to get pulled over now.

Three miles north of here was a road to Leroy. I could call Ellie
from a pay phone and warn her. Then I'd finish the drive into the
big city and pick Cinta up at her motel. It could be a trap. I
had no choice. If there was a chance she needed me I had to go.
I'd be ready for Them.

They'll never take me alive again. I couldn't stand it. I'll blow
my own head off before I'll let Them. But if I go, I'll take
plenty of those slimy little bastards with me.