X-PROOF

PART TWO:

J. Edgar Hoover Building
FBI Headquarters
Washington D.C. – 9:36 am

“Mulder.”

He rolled the sunflower seed shell around in his mouth, up against the back of his

incisors, mouth pursed in a weird expression as he fixated on the computer screen

before him.  Should he say something or not?

“Mulder!”  Scully’s voice became more insistent from the other side of the monitor. 

“Are you going to answer me?”

Fox Mulder, the FBI’s most unwanted agent, lifted his eyes from the monitor to see

Dana Scully step up to the side of his desk, arms folded, eyebrows arched slightly in

that school-marmish way that always made him fear he would be asked to stand and

recite the Gettysburg address for the class as punishment for not listening.  But he’d

been taking so long to answer her because he was debating whether or not to mention

the e-mails he had been getting from a (somewhat) reliable informant. 

He had, of course, heard her offer to bring him something from the commissary, but

the wheels had been turning on the words in the e-mail that popped up not five minutes

before Scully walked in. But it wasn’t the tone of her voice that had finally pulled him

from his reverie.  Dressed in a wine-colored skirt and jacket, Scully was softer-looking

today, the deep red of the outfit making the color of her eyes more prominent and clear. 

“Do I want a…?  Oh, sure, a sandwich is fine,” Mulder said, and leaned back in his

chair to appraise his partner.  She either had a class to teach today or was in a more

expansive mood than usual.  Shifting out of her usual repertoire of black and neutral

colors meant she was going to be a bit more unpredictable…which might work in his

favor.

She returned his stare for a few moments of consideration of her own and then

unfolded her arms.  He opened his mouth, realizing he had waited too long to answer

again, but she stepped away, shaking her head.

“No, Mulder, I don’t want to read the newest round of tasteless jokes,” she flatly told

him.  “The last one you foisted on me made me skittish about corn on the cob for weeks.”

“That’s not it at all,” he promised her, and was rewarded with her usual skeptical look.  Relenting, he turned the computer monitor toward her.  “Just regular e-mail.  See?”

It said much about Scully and her curiosity that she paused a few beats to study his

earnest expression and then bent over to give the screen a cursory glance.

“Yep.  Just as I thought.  Another pen-pal threatening injunctions,” she quipped in a

matter of fact tone and stood once more. 

“Bend over and slide past that to the one I’ve highlighted,” Mulder grinned, making

sure he put enough inflection in his words to turn the simple statement into an innuendo. 

Giving her a few moments, he then asked,  “Did you read it?”

Scully was blinking as if she could not believe that she had.

“Someone has written saying they found a colony of look-alikes…of…no, not the actor! 

Really?”  She gave a brief snort of disbelief, expression between amusement and

boredom.  “I didn’t know you were into impersonators, Mulder, much less ones of

Russell Crowe.  Is there anything else you’re not telling me?”  Her eyes narrowed as

she read the next few lines.  “But it's not even in Las Vegas.”  She straightened and

turned the school-marm disapproval back upon him.  “A tasteless joke, Mulder. 

Thanks.”

“Not impersonators, Scully,” Mulder corrected, still trying to decide if he should even

approach the subject, especially since he had not decided if the lead was something

worth pursuing after all.  “My contact there says they think cloning is going on.”

Instantly, the personae of Scientific Reason snapped into place as Scully met his gaze,

a simultaneous thought crossing the short distance between them.  In all their pursuits,

in all their cases, one abnormality had the consistent hallmarks of an all too familiar

pattern of obfuscation and conspiracy.  Clones, colony clones, had made dramatic

entrances and scars in their years together as a team, and in light of their investigations,

were becoming more the target of their X files.  Clones had led Mulder to believe his

sister was still alive.  Clones had been the subject of horrific experiences.  Had they

found another nest of them?

“You don’t think…” she began, leaning back against the edge of his desk.

“I think…I thought, when I first read this that it was a tasteless joke too, but this

contact hasn’t let me down but once before, and I’m not even sure I can blame them,”

Mulder replied, tapping a pencil against his thigh in thought.  “More than that, I’ve

checked out the company’s credentials.  It’s called NanoCorp Subsidiaries and they

are a nanotechnology engineering company, with interests in biomedical research

and defense.  So it’s a possibility…” he trailed off.

“But Mulder, all this person has to say about it is that he saw a few guys at this place of

business who resemble each other and resemble a particular actor.  For all we know,

NanoCorp is run by a large family that has distinct traits that match one individual, and

yet will have no familial or genetic connection at all…apparent synchronicity where

there is actually just…random similarities.  I mean, out of all the differentiation that

occurs in the human genome, there are bound to be several examples of look-alikes that

show up…especially since the world is much more interactive now…has been since

man began exploring the globe.” Scully began to pour out all her own thoughts on the

matter. “I mean, how many times do we joke about having a doppelganger somewhere?”

“In other words, it isn’t true when they say ‘they broke the mold when they made you?’ 

Aside from my own existence, I’ve never believed that flattery,” Mulder said.  He loved

moments like this, when Scully’s incredulity rose to the challenge of explanation and

came forth as utter logic.  “And I’m less interested in who they look like than the cloning

bit.  Although, considering the person they look like, I figured you would have jumped

at the chance.”

“But why?  I mean, so what?  There are people who make their living trying to look like

a famous person.  What’s the X file in that?”

“In an engineering company that is a major contributor to biomedical advances? 

NanoCorp has developed a synthetic that supplements blood supplies in hospitals and

emergency vehicles, a synthetic that in test studies has shown to assist antibiotics in

healing and recovery.  Is it too far a leap to think that maybe a group of look-alikes

in a place like this would not be clones?  And if they are…” he took a deep breath,

“clones that have a purpose we already suspect?”

Scully stared back at him, his argument processing through her own skepticism. 

“There’s no real reason for us to go down there,” she answered after several long

moments.

“Easy.  You’re a doctor.  You could…wait, hear me out…” he protested as Scully rolled

her eyes and stepped away once more in disgust. 

“You’ve done that to me before, Mulder.  Never mind that it ruins whatever credibility

we have as investigators.  I don’t like being called on the carpet as a doctor,” Scully

snapped, blue eyes now dark with anger.  “And you know we can’t misrepresent ourselves

as federal officers…”

“All right, all right, it was an idea,” Mulder huffed in chagrin.  “It would be something

to look into, though,” he added, unwilling to give it up after all.  The more they discussed

the subject, the more the idea began to gain possibilities. 

“It could just be a group of impersonators that work near the offices,” Scully returned,

calming down. 

“It could be another group of clones that are working for the aliens,” Mulder countered. 

“Like Samantha was a clone.  Like others.  They could be one more piece to the puzzle

that shows us the truth.”

Scully’s arms were folded again, but this time her demeanor was considerably less severe. 

“Why don’t we think about it for a few more days?” She asked. “Ask your man to gather

more information and we’ll see…”

His focus returned briefly back to the monitor...another e-mail had chimed its way into

his box.  Same guy.  New info.

“I tell you what,” Mulder said, softly, rising from his chair and casting about for his

jacket and keys.  “You stand there and think.  I’ll go get the car.  Meet me in the parking

garage when you’ve realized that I’ve decided to go after all.”

“Mulder…”

“Read,” he commanded, pointing to the monitor.  “And if there’s any doubt that there

are alien clones there, you can persuade me of it on our way down.”

“Mulder!”

He stopped in mid-stride and turned to face her, tried not to have the same reaction he

always did when she was in full blaze of skepticism and disbelief. 

“There’s been a murder at NanoCorp, and from my contact’s description – green goo, unidentifiable - it sounds like a clone we’re looking for.”



After Terry left to respond to the phone call Bud made, a phone call not too warmly

greeted in the dark of the room as they both lay on the futon, spooned against each

other, cocooned in dreamless sleep, Deidre found she could not return to that quietness,

so she lay in wait for the sun to turn the tinted glass of the room a bright green.  Terry

had not muttered much about the call, only that it was imperative that he meet with

Bud and would return soon.  This gave her some time at least, to approach the events

of the last twenty four hours with a bit more objectivity and calm. 

And what kept returning to her mind, out of all the things that cried out for her worry

and concern, was the look on Terry’s face as he sat on the futon yesterday afternoon, as

all that had happened came crashing down on the both of them.  The look on his face

revealed a man who knew he had utterly lost control. 

Not that there had been much control in the beginning, she mused.   Not for the first

time, Deidre wondered why it was that Terry had not done more to try and wrest the

whole project away from Sid.  All throughout ‘Gladiator,’ there had been less talk of

why the team even agreed to assist Sid than there was of actually accomplishing the

 goal.  In a way, Deidre realized with a painful twinge, there had been almost an

underlying, tacit agreement on Terry’s part to not question the entirety of the mission. 

And they had all been too busy just mucking through the whole mess for her to really

see that.

That look on his face, though…almost as if he had been hoping for something different…

No!  It was too much to think about.  How could she think this way when she cared so

much about him?  She was sure Terry had his reasons.

But sometimes…

She found herself pacing the room, hands clutching at the long strands of her hair. 

She was just frazzled, just distraught.  Terry is a good man, she told herself….she just

couldn’t think about any of that now.  It led to circular thinking that spun around the

crux of the whole matter, Sid’s utter abduction of Maximus; spun like water spinning

down into the drain.  And it all just led to wondering how she ended up here in the first

place, how something that had been so fabulously intriguing then had become a sickening

lump in her stomach.  Especially since Terry looked like he had twice the size of that

same lump to carry around.

Deidre sat up as sunlight broke over the tops of the trees that filled the parklands

surrounding the large campus of NanoCorp, Subsidiaries, dubbed “Emerald City” for

its sleek walls made of thick green glass and centered atrium filled with tropical plants. 

She wore the shirt Terry had been wearing the day before; would wear it until she

decided to change into the clothes she brought to his hidden little flat.  She bent over

her lap and looked down at her toes, wiggling them.  An image of her feet next to her

brothers’ in the stream that ran through the woods that spread out behind their Aunt

Ginny’s rambling two-story, three pairs of feet all wiggling and bumping next to each

other.  She turned her head to look up at the sunrays beaming through the green glass

wall, falling upon her feet with a light the same way the water had coursed over theirs. 

Harkin.  Wilder.  Deidre sighed, feeling the lump of yet another problem remind her

that she had more than repercussions of retrievals to consider.  Harkin, in a hospital

in Germany.  Wilder, ready to excommunicate her…at least it had sounded like it from

the tone of his voice.  She hadn’t called him back since yesterday.  Didn’t want to,

either.  Wilder’s bitterness towards her was uncalled for and unnecessary.  And besides,

what could she do until she got to Germany anyway?

She showered, changed into the  set of clothes she brought with her and began to fix

coffee, feeling certain that would help put her brain together.  She glanced at the clock. 

Terry had been away for nearly an hour now.  She went into his main office, picked up

a tablet and sat down on the couch and began listing things she needed to handle for the

day.  Glanced at the clock again, wondering if Rachel had made it to Hromada.  Then,

the door to the office opened.

Terry’s face was grim, lips set in a thin line, but she sat wordlessly on the couch and

watched him as he stalked to his desk and thumbed through his planner.

“I’m asking Bud and John to come up here in an hour or so,” he told her several moments

later, looking up at her as if just seeing her there for the first time, appearing a bit

sheepish in realizing his delay in acknowledging her.

“Why?”  Deidre asked, steeling herself.  “What’s happened?”

“There’s been a murder.  In the gymnasium.  Tom Exton.  Rachel’s fencing instructor,”

Terry told her in brief clips of information. 

“It was Tom?  But…why?”  Deidre forgot her list, forgot all other anxieties.  “He was

just a trainer.”

“Not really,” Terry said.  “That was a kind of moonlighting he did, that took advantage

of our facilities here.  And of the fact that we wanted to keep Rachel in training for the

fencing she had learned in school.  We thought it would be useful…” he began to laugh

and caught himself.  “Main point is that he worked for NanoCorp as a warp tech as well.” 

He straightened from bending over his planner, turned to the window looking out across

the parkland, silent for several moments.  Deidre could see the tension rising in his

shoulders.  It finally released with a vicious curse directed at Sid, softly said, but

succinct.

Deidre pressed her hands to her forehead, wondering if things could get any worse.

“You said they’re coming up in a bit…?”  she finally ventured, but before Terry could

answer, the phone rang.

“It’s Rachel,” Terry informed her when he saw the caller identity on the display.  He

plopped himself into his armchair and pressed a button to put their friend on speaker-

phone.

“Well, I’m here,” they heard Rachel say.  “The Mini is very, very…”

“Pink?”  Terry asked and surprised Deidre with a wink.

“Well, maybe not so very pink,” Rachel said, sounding much too tired to laugh, but

amused anyway.  “But it’s a very nice hotel and I’m thankful.  I don’t think I could ask

for a better spot.”

“I knew you’d like it.”

“Is Dee there?  Or did she go home already?”

“I’m here, Jedi,” Deidre replied, leaning over Terry’s desk to pitch her voice at the open

mike of the phone, but Terry motioned for her to come around the desk, and when she

did, pulled her onto his lap.  “You sound like you had a good trip,” she added, more to

make conversation than anything.  She glanced down at Terry.  Would he tell her about

Tom? 

No, he shook his head.

“It was uneventful, although I didn’t get any sleep at any time along the way, so I think

I’m going to crash now.  Have you heard about Harkin?  How is he?”

“Nothing new, I’m afraid.  I’m still working out plans,” Deidre said, trying to be neutral

as well.

“Call me back when you have your first day there,” Terry said, his tone indicated he

would like to conclude the call.  “Get out and explore the city some.  I know, Rache, I

know,” Terry said, when Rachel began to argue, “we’re all anxious about the time

passed, but trust me, you’ll need to get your bearings.  Find out the reputation of

Grovensky Construction, or how far away Neviditelny is.  You’re on recon for now. 

And you wont be much of a retriever if you’re too shattered to think.”

“Aye, aye, sir,” Rachel said and with a final good-bye, hung up.

“We should find out more about why Tom was murdered before we say anything,” Terry

told Deidre before she had a chance to form the question in her mind.  He looked up at

her as if suddenly realizing she was perched rather precariously on his knee and leaned

back to curl her up more closely, burying his head in the fall of her hair, in the crook of

her shoulder and breast.  “I knew there would be hell to pay, but I didn’t think it would

be like this,” he mumbled.  His arms wrapped around her, hands flattened against her. 
 

Deidre settled into his embrace, kissed the top of his head.  There were too many questions,

too many thoughts; and not enough time to answer them all.  What mattered now was that

Terry needed her.

“I’m here with you,” she replied.

ON TO PART 3

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