========================================================================== NOTICE: - Deslea's URL is now http://www.deslea.com or http://fiction.deslea.com. - Email address is now deslea@deslea.com. - May be archived by Scully/Skinner specialty archives only. This information supercedes all other information found in this file. ========================================================================== Someone I Trusted XI: Ground Zero *PG13* (Series NC17) 1/1 Deslea R. Judd drjudd@primus.com.au drjudd@catholic.org Copyright 1998, 1999 DISCLAIMER This work is based on The X Files, a creation of Chris Carter owned by him, Twentieth Century Fox, and Ten- Thirteen Productions. Fox Mulder, Dana Scully, Walter Skinner, and the Cigarette Smoking Man remain the intellectual property of those parties and are used without their consent and without commercial gain. Susannah Skinner is my creation and may not be used elsewhere without my consent. Some parts of this work are verbatim extracts from the show and are also owned by the parties mentioned. OK to archive/forward. Spoilers: Pilot, Erlenmyer Flask, One Breath, Blessing Way, Paper Clip, Nisei, Piper Maru, Apocrypha, Avatar, Tunguska, Terma, Leonard Betts, Never Again, Memento Mori, Max, Zero Sum. Category: Story, Romance (Skinner/Scully). Rating: NC17 (Series for sex and adult themes), this installment PG13. Summary: Sequel to Someone I Trusted I-X, in which Skinner deals for Scully's life - and fertility. Fan mail is always appreciated!!! My e-mail is drjudd@primus.com.au and drjudd@catholic.org. This and my other stories may be found at http://home.primus.com.au/drjudd (shameless plug). PREVIOUS TITLES: Someone I Trusted (The Blessing Way), in which Scully pulls a gun on Skinner...and surprises him Someone I Trusted II: The SSR File, in which Scully and Skinner discuss their coupling and try again Someone I Trusted III: Always, in which Scully and Skinner resume their affair and discuss children Someone I Trusted IV: The Apocryphal File, in which Scully decides to try for a baby, after all Someone I Trusted V: Sharon's Reprise, in which Skinner is torn between his past and his future Someone I Trusted VI: Interlude, in which Skinner and Scully holiday with his daughter. Mulder finds out about their affair. Someone I Trusted VII: Terma's Shadow, in which Scully answers Skinner's jealousy with a commitment. Someone I Trusted VIII: Memento Mori, in which Scully and Skinner discover she can't bear children. Someone I Trusted IX: Susannah, in which Susannah Skinner comforts her father and Scully. Someone I Trusted X: Through Darkened Glass, in which Scully remembers her abduction - and Skinner's part in it. Someone I Trusted XI: Ground Zero *PG13* (Series NC17) 1/1 Deslea R. Judd drjudd@primus.com.au drjudd@catholic.org Copyright 1998, 1999 ONE: SCULLY Scully surveyed the empty apartment with satisfaction. Mentally, she ticked off the security features she had had fitted. Bulletproof glass, back-to-base security monitoring, video surveillance, an identification entry system which detected unique pigment patterns in the eye, and secure telephone lines. It wasn't perfect, but in addition to the normal features of the security building, it was sufficient. Her stepdaughter spoke. "Don't you think this is going a little overboard, Dana? I mean I understand the risks - my own mother was murdered over your work, after all - but even you don't have these sorts of features in your apartment." Scully turned to face the girl with a shrug. "Susannah, I bought my apartment before I was assigned to the X Files. If I had bought it in the last few years I probably would have fitted exactly the same devices to mine." She lowered her voice. "And your father is taking more risks in his own work these days, too. We need to keep you safe." Susannah frowned. "But Dana, you don't have this kind of money. The security alone is pushing the hundred- grand mark. The apartment is worth another three. Daddy has this kind of money, but I file his papers, his bank statements. I know he's not footing the bill for this. I'm not a fool. There's something you're not telling me." Scully met her gaze. "Look, Susannah, we both know there's a good chance of me not being around to protect you-" "Bullshit." She gave an exasperated sigh. "Well, you can play total denial if you wish; but the fact is, I am terminally ill. This is my way of being here to protect you if - when - I am no longer here. Will you please humour me?" She dropped her gaze then, because the truth of her words concealed a lie she could not reveal. Purchasing the apartment was indeed Scully's way of protecting her daughter, but not as Susannah understood it. The money - another lie of omission - had indeed come from her resources, but not from her own pocket. Her life insurance provider had paid out her million-dollar policy when she had furnished proof of a life expectancy not exceeding six months. Susannah had miscalculated the apartment's value; between the purchase cost and the first ten years' body corporate fees, over half of that million was gone. Another quarter was invested to provide the girl, now eighteen, with an income. It was only two days ago that her oncologist had confirmed her cancer had almost certainly metastasised, although another round of tests was needed to say so definitely. Her time, she knew, was running out; and it was quite likely that the cancer would spread to her brain, causing dementia, before she died. It was important that she laid the groundwork for Susannah's survival while she was still competent to do so. It had been a fortnight since she had remembered her abduction. A fortnight of avoiding Walter, of avoiding her certain knowledge that he had been responsible for what had been done to her. Soon, there would be a confrontation. It was unavoidable. She would have to tell him what she knew, but she had not and would not tell Mulder. To admit to another the truth of what this man she loved was - this monster - was more than she could bring herself to do. No, justice was something that was lost to her now. Exposing Walter would mean leaving Susannah fatherless, for he would surely be murdered before he could stand trial. The girl had barely recovered from losing her natural mother, such as Sharon had been. And Scully was under no illusions as to the devastation that her own death would bring to Susannah. She had to protect the girl at all costs - even if that meant also protecting Walter. As it was, there remained a small risk that, upon learning of her knowledge, Walter might kill her, then himself. In some ways that possibility comforted her. Still, she had to face the fact that Mulder may expose Walter at some later time. She had to make the girl safe, help her to start a life independently now...just in case. For there would be no-one to help Susannah if both she and Walter died; no-one to protect Susannah if she were targeted as a weapon against Walter. But she had done her best, and Susannah was, after all, a Skinner; she could protect herself. She needed only the tools, practical and personal, with which to do so, and Scully had provided those. Walter would supplement them if ever a specific need arose. She had entrusted her own life to him, and that had been a mistake; but she had to have faith in his love for their daughter. She had no other choice. Susannah's eyes were still on her, and she met the girl's gaze for a long, long moment. Her expression was openly suspicious. Finally, though, her face softened, and she approached her and embraced her with great tenderness. "I love you, Dana." Scully broke then. She couldn't help it. Silent tears streaming down her cheeks, she choked, "I love you too. Oh, Susannah, please be safe." //Dear God, please keep her safe.// "No-one can come to the phone at the moment. Leave a message after the beep." Susannah gave a wry grin. "Your voice mail message has all the charm and personality of a McDonald's Drive Thru." Scully was flipping through her mail. "It's not there to take my place, just my messages," she retorted absently. "You have one message," an alien, disembodied voice said importantly. "Bully for you," Susannah snorted. She gave Scully two morphine capsules. Scully dry-swallowed them. "You always speak to inanimate objects?" Susannah was rifling through her bag. "I was raised by the Ice Queen, remember?" Her tone was light, but oddly harsh. Scully registered Walter's voice on the machine and forced herself to continue speaking naturally. "Raised isn't quite the term I'd use for Sharon's version of parenting, but let's not go there today." She turned to face her. "Okay, that was your father. Could you tell him when you get home that I'll call him tomorrow?" Susannah held up a toothbrush. "No can do, Dana. I told him you were in hospital this week. He was surprised you hadn't told him. I told him you were to be discharged this morning - little dreaming we'd detour to my new home - and he asked me to stay with you tonight, make sure you were okay." Scully rolled her eyes. "My very own chaperone, for God's sake. All right. Pizza and videos suit you?" "You got yourself a date." "Some date," Scully muttered, with an affectionate glance at Susannah. Strictly speaking, it was a glance at Susannah's coffee-coloured hair, which was all she could see of the girl. Susannah herself was buried somewhere on the lounge within the warm confines of a thick quilt. She had been asleep twenty minutes into the first movie. Scully herself had switched to Star Trek: Voyager, but had dozed off after half an episode. Neither party animal had stirred from their prime-time slumber until - Scully checked her watch in the dim light of the television - two am. Scully had slept deeply, a sometime side-effect of the morphine. Now, she felt very fresh and alert, having slept a good six hours. She should go to bed; but her body was primed to start the day. She did not rise just yet; content to let her mind drift. Sooner or later it would seize on something - a case, her monograph, the paper she would present at Harvard next year (probably posthumously, her mind added brutally), maybe just that book of logic problems she'd waded through while in hospital. Then she would get up and satisfy whatever mental craving presented itself for a few hours, then go back to sleep. She equivocated a while, then settled on the logic problems. She rose and went to her overnight bag she had had with her at the hospital, but the book was not inside. She looked down at the bag thoughtfully, mentally retracing her steps. //The car.// Susannah had picked her up in Walter's car, and she had been working on them as the younger woman drove. The book must be on the front seat. Shrugging slightly at her forgetfulness (and suppressing a shiver of fright that she got so often now about the possibility of dementia), she picked up Susannah's keys and padded out to the car. It was as she approached Walter's sleek sedan that she wondered what the hell he was driving. Why on earth would he let Susannah take the car when he knew she would stay at Annapolis overnight? He often walked to work, that was true; but he usually drove to the gym. Frowning, she opened the passenger side door and located the errant book, her mind working. //He told Susannah to stay the night with me. Why?// Nothing so odd about Susannah staying, but Walter telling his adult daughter to play chaperone after a routine run of tests was strange. //Why did he give her his car? Her old Ford is reliable enough.// Could it be for her, Scully's, comfort? She didn't think so. Susannah's Ford might not be new - Walter believed even a wealthy teenager must earn a brand new car with a good driving record over five years, just as he had - but nonetheless, he had bought her a 1993 model in the middle price range. It had air conditioning and a CD player. It put Scully's own perfectly restored Morris Mini to shame. Something else was bothering her. It was something Susannah had said that day. //Daddy has this kind of money...I file his bank statements.// Walter was moderately wealthy; Scully had always known that. Most of it was from his family; some inherited from Sharon; some of it from his own earnings. They rarely discussed money, but Scully knew that the Assistant Directors had packages amounting to around $450,000 per annum. She knew he lived relatively frugally, usually spending only $70,000 of it at a guess - $100,000 now that he paid Susannah to keep track of his financial affairs and manage his properties. But she realised now she had very little idea of exactly how much he really was worth in cold, hard, available-on-the-spot cash. At the time of her investigation into the attempt on Sharon's life, which had eventually killed her, Scully had located assets belonging to Walter amounting to around six million dollars. Sharon's estate had been worth another four, and he had a life interest in half of that. But none of that had been liquid. Walter bought two or three properties every year from his salary and his rental income, usually in Virginia. His familial inheritance was tied up in managed trusts and tax havens all over the world - accessible, but not liquid. The money from Sharon was still in trust with the executor, who distributed the interest to him annually. The capital would only be distributed to him if Susannah predeceased him; otherwise it would pass to Susannah on Walter's death. But Susannah seemed to be aware of a cool half million sitting in his bank account - Walter, who believed anything more than two thousand in cash management accounts was a waste of interest. She could have misinterpreted the girl's words, of course. She could have meant simply that no record of a half-million dollar liquidation had come her way. But then why the specific reference to bank statements? It was strangely out of context; given Walter didn't normally keep his money in the bank, but in assets. It made no sense. She sat down on the passenger seat, frowning. On pure instinct she wished she could deny, she opened the ashtray on the console. With dismay but no real surprise, Scully pulled the cigarette stub from the tray, eyeing the word on the side with a sigh. //Morley//. //Damn it, Walter; what have you gotten into now?// She returned to the apartment, the logic problems forgotten. She went to her bedroom and dressed, with no real plan except to locate Walter and see what happened. She was tempted to let it go. She must maintain some minimal contact with Walter - they had a daughter who commuted between their homes, after all - but Walter was really no longer her concern. He was her partner, her fiance, only in name; and the confrontation that would end that state of affairs was surely not far away. But what Walter did - especially where it concerned Sarron Andrews - endangered Susannah. That the smoking man had been in the very car Walter had lent Susie enraged her. Walter was a target; didn't he see that? Scully was their enemy, but these people's friends were often in worse danger from them than she was. At any time Sarron or someone higher than him might decide to double-cross Walter. What if they planted a bomb in his car, and he'd lent it to their daughter? Scully drew her gun from her bedside drawer and checked it. She put it into its holster, its weight comforting in the small of her back. No, what Walter did was still her concern. She herself was dying, but it was not yet too late to protect their daughter. She hoped. Skinner's apartment was empty. The phone was off the hook, and Susannah's car was not in the garage. Frowning, Scully let herself in. After a cursory look at the lounge, she switched on her flashlight and went upstairs to Susannah's office. She looked appraisingly over Susie's desk, with a jealous glance at the girl's computer (it was a Pentium II with so many trappings it required a maxi tower), then moved on. Her gaze settled on a tray labelled "WS: Requiring Attention" - Susannah's effort at professionalism (this from the same girl who had been known to holler, "Daddy! Phone," Scully thought affectionately). There was a sheaf of bank statements with a note attached. Scully read it. Daddy: Unknown deposit from Switzerland came through overnight. Megan at Mercantile faxed me with details due to its unusual nature. Nine hundred thousand Swiss francs - maybe a half million US dollars at the current rate of exchange. Source: Coded bank account at Bank Suisse, owner unknown. I can find no record of any expected income from Switzerland - Rothschild Zurich managed trust income is automatically reinvested. Have you put the chalet in Geneva on the market by any chance? I will need to update my records. Please advise. Susannah. Scully groaned. //Payoff.// Part of her was dismayed, but another part of her was exasperated by the man. Damn it all, he knew better than this! Why the hell was he leaving a paper trail? He'd spent more than enough time in Switzerland when Susannah was at school to have unidentified accounts there himself. Why would he have had them deposit the money into his US account? It was unbelievably careless - almost reckless. This from Walter, the most methodical and careful of men. It was almost enough to make her think he was being set up. //Wishful thinking, Dana. You know what you know, and what you know can't be denied. Not only is he in this, he's higher up than the Smoking Man is. He's playing a game of his own. You just need to work out what it is.// For Susannah. She sighed heavily, then returned downstairs, and settled down in the shadows, troubled, to wait. TWO: SKINNER Walter was afraid. He was a Skinner, and he was tough, but right now he was deathly afraid. He was standing in his briefs in Susannah's office. He had just put some evidence of the night's events (Jane Brody's blood sample, to be precise) in her safe, concealed beneath her desk, and turned to leave; but his gaze had fallen on a note in his daughter's hand. //Nine hundred thousand Swiss francs. Oh, God.// He passed a weary hand over his eyes. //I'm being set up.// He had offered Sarron his soul for Scully's cure, but it was starting to look very much like he would pay instead with either his liberty or his life. And Scully? Scully they would continue to hold over his head until she died, no doubt believing he had betrayed her. Assuming she didn't think so already. Scully's distance these last two weeks had not been lost on him. They had slept in the same bed one final night after the evening of her unexplained distress, but she had been stiff with tension, and she had cried out his name in her sleep with devastating grief. Either she had been fed some bullshit information that led her to believe he had betrayed her, or she had in some way come to know he was once again meeting with Sarron. He ached to go to her, to make things right between them. But he could not confront her, because that would bring the estrangement into the open, hurting Susannah; he could not reassure her, because then she would learn the truth. He sighed heavily, his husky breath tinged with agony. //Damn them. Damn them all. I should just take her away where they can't find us and finish out our days. There is no cure. They've lied to us all along.// His hand drifted to a picture of the three of them, himself, Dana and Susie, on his daughter's desk. He touched it tenderly. //Dana.// If she were here right now he would kill her. He would touch her face, tell her he loved her. He would embrace her, not as her lover, but with the chaste adoration of her beloved. His hand would come up behind her head as he embraced her, and he would shoot her in the base of her neck, blowing her brainstem apart, ending her pain and her knowledge in a blinding instant. And if he were not killed by the same bullet, he would cradle her as her life ebbed away to join her soul, and then he would shoot himself. But not in the neck. Between his eyes. He would be left with the mark of Cain. Shivering slightly, he looked at the picture of the three of them once more. No, he could not do that. He could not give up. For Susannah, he had to see it through. They both did. With something like disgust, Skinner picked up the bag containing his clothes - the ones he had worn to dispose of Jane Brody's body for Sarron. The woman had been dead some hours when he had retrieved her. The clothes smelled of decay, tissues in necrosis, blood stagnant and congealed. He had touched her face fleetingly with apology at the morgue, and he had seen the dignity and grace of the dead in that moment; but now, human recognition gone, he was left only with the scent of organic death, and it made him feel ill. Stalking to the door, he flung it open - and stopped. Mulder was there. "Ah! You //are// home," the younger man said. Startled, Skinner stammered, "Yeah. What are you doing here?" Oblivious to his agitation, Mulder said, "I was just trying to reach you. I think your phone's off the hook." Despite his startled fear, Skinner's irritation flared. Only Mulder would show up at four in the morning and bitch accusingly that he'd had his phone off the hook, like Skinner had some divine imperative to keep the lines open in case Mulder needed him. "I needed some sleep," he said sharply, with an undertone that clearly said that Mulder was disturbing him. "Is that why you're taking out the garbage at four in the morning?" Skinner bristled. "What do you want, Agent Mulder?" he demanded. Mulder pushed his way past into the apartment. "Some answers," he said cryptically. Skinner clenched his fists. //He's Dana's best friend. Don't punch him//, he counselled himself. "Concerning?" he asked stiffly. Mulder was still oblivious to Skinner's fury. "The unexplained death of a postal worker. Which someone is apparently going to great lengths to keep unexplained." Skinner swallowed hard. Mulder should not have had this information so quickly. He had expected to have this conversation with him in the morning in his office, not in his home. He felt at a psychological disadvantage. He felt vulnerable. In the shadows, Scully frowned as Mulder explained. Mulder was too absorbed to see it, but Walter's tenseness had not been lost on her; nor had his obvious intention to dispose of the black clothes he had entered the apartment wearing. Her mind was racing far ahead of Mulder as she considered his over-long shower. Half an hour at least. It had seemed almost compulsive. Like a woman who had been raped. Like a man who had - //touched something dead// Scully shuddered. Was Walter a killer? Her mind recoiled at the thought. But disposing of a body? Yeah, she could buy that. She considered what Mulder had said. A postal worker. Dead of - she could barely see the photos Mulder had shown Walter from her position, but it looked to her a lot like bee stings. The body, stolen from the morgue that very night. The files deleted from Mulder's computer - more of Walter's handiwork, she realised at once. An investigating officer killed. //Please God, don't let that have been Walter//, she pleaded; but she didn't really think so. He had flinched slightly, something she had sensed rather than seen, at that news. Evidence accessed fraudulently. She stifled a groan. //Oh, Lord, what a mess.// "What do you want from me?" Walter was saying. "I want your help on this, Sir," Mulder said with the air of one stating the obvious. "What about Agent Scully?" he asked automatically. Mulder hesitated. "Agent Scully is in the hospital." Skinner jolted. //Again?// he wondered in alarm. "Has something happened that I should know about?" he demanded fiercely. Had Mulder been less absorbed in the death of Jane Brody, he may have wondered why Skinner didn't know - he was, after all, Scully's fiance - but as it was, he merely responded to the question. Scully was in hospital for some imaging tests. Skinner was about to tell him she'd already been discharged when Mulder shocked him. "Her oncologist thinks her tumour may be metastasising." Skinner felt the blood drain from his face. He rocked slightly on his feet. He fought an urge to throw up, and won - just. He responded automatically when Mulder asked him to take a further look at the photos. When Mulder showed himself out, offering to take Skinner's garbage with him, he declined just as automatically. He shut the door behind his unwelcome visitor with a final click. "Dana," he said softly, and then he was silent. He had loved this woman before they met, it seemed. He had saved her and condemned her with a single act so many years before; one Dana herself had no memory of. Saved her to die of a cancer that had no cure; saved her to face the theft of her fertility; saved her to love a man who would lie to protect her, only to be betrayed. When she first recalled shadows of that act, she had come to him, confused, frightened, and angry. Anger had turned to lust, and they had joined in a mutual fury that bordered on hate. And then, in the desert, anger had melted away. Forgiveness bore fruits of trust and love, and they had become one. And that was how they had remained these two years. And now the one would once more become two, severed by her very life's blood. //Metastasising.// //The cancer is in her blood.// //The vital organs, the brain. Her body is going to fall apart, and take her mind with it.// //I love her, and she will die.// He put his head against the door, and, heartbreakingly, shuddering, he wept. In her hiding place, Scully stifled silent tears of her own - tears for herself and for him. Whatever Walter had done to her, whatever he was, he loved her, even now. And reluctantly - how she hated herself for her weakness! - she loved him, too. She could have gone to him now, and healed the breach between them, forgiven him and allowed him to forgive her. They would make love one final time. And then, she thought - with little knowledge of how close her thoughts were to his that night - then, perhaps, they could go into the darkness together. //Susannah. Susannah!// No. She had to hold on. She had to stay strong, to fight Walter, to find out what he was doing and protect him from himself. For Susannah. THREE: SCULLY Five am. Scully frowned. She would have to go home soon. Susannah would wake around six. She would not be concerned at Scully's absence - she often walked in the early morning - but she would wonder why she returned wearing black and packing heat. The garage was deserted besides herself and Walter. He had come down here and screwed the number-plates back onto Susannah's car, having apparently removed them for his night-time errand. She wondered whether he had had any qualms about transporting a dead woman in his daughter's car. There was the screech of a speeding car, and Scully retreated further behind the large Land Rover she had used for cover. Skinner, however, stepped out into the path of the approaching vehicle, and she held her breath, anticipating the dull thud of his body being struck. But the car stopped inches from him, Skinner leaning forward onto the hood. His demeanour was menacing, and Scully was suddenly afraid. Sarron would not take kindly to that, superior or not. He stepped from the car, cigarette in hand. There was an argument, and it was loud; but she was some distance away. Nonetheless, she got the idea. Walter cried out angrily, "You killed an officer of the law!" Sarron said words to the effect that Walter had no business taking the moral high ground, a sentiment with which Scully had some sympathy. You can't deal with killers and expect them not to kill because it offends your sensibilities, after all. Scully watched this scene unfold coldly. Walter had been framed for this man's death; she understood that now. Probably to give them some additional leverage over him, just in case his conscience got the better of him. But this failed to interest her. //You brought it on yourself, Walter. You dug your own grave. The Devil rarely keeps to his bargains.// But Susannah. How would this affect her? As far as Scully could see, it wouldn't. Sarron was not seriously interested in exposing Walter as far as she could tell. He only wanted to curb Skinner's annoying little scruples about murder. //Damn nuisance, those scruples, aren't they, Sarron?// she thought bitterly. No, Walter was safe from exposure, unless of course Mulder kept digging. And if Mulder found out, she could, perhaps, convince Walter to flee the jurisdiction ahead of being charged. But she also had to rely on Walter, to some extent, to protect himself. For Susannah. //Susannah, Susannah! Keep saying it, Dana. And hold on.// //Hold on.// FOUR: MULDER Date: 27 April 1997 From: Fox_Mulder@xfiles.violentcrimes.fbi.gov Subject: Formal Report Of Section Activities During Absence To: Dana_Scully@xfiles.violentcrimes.fbi.gov CC: Walter_Skinner@asstdirectors.executive.fbi.gov Scully Herewith is my brief report on my activities during your absence, at your request. 1. The Easter Bunny Case (X425611L07) No developments. The Easter Bunny Killer, as the press have dubbed him, appears to have vanished. One priest I have spoken to mentioned that liturgically, Easter is considered to continue until Pentecost. He feels the dates of the murders may be significant. Followup: At leisure, but preferably before next Easter (haha). 2. Van Blundht (X425611L03) Eddie Van Blundht was sentenced to nine years prison for sexual assault and assaulting a federal officer. His court-appointed psychologist argued for acquittal, saying he demonstrated "pre-moral development without an understanding of the rights of others, but also a complete lack of malice. Her testimony and the fact that he is paying voluntary child support for the five children were substantial factors in reducing his sentence. *shrug* go figure. All five babies faring well, with no sign of voluntary dermal musculature among them. Case closed, and thank God for it. 3. Agent Sean David Pendrell (X425611W89) Not surprisingly, there's been no progress on the murder of David Pendrell. I've been instructed to make the case inactive unless further evidence emerges. However, on a personal note, his next of kin - his parents - are on some kind of safari adventure trip in South America, and are not able to be contacted until their return in July. The extended family is reluctant to claim the body. The Coroner has agreed to keep the body at the County Morgue until that time. The extended family has suggested we tentatively note July 14 for the funeral. 4. Those Rotten Bees (X425611X09) This is a bit more interesting. Earlier this week, bees carrying smallpox apparently killed a postal worker named Jane Brody. The crime scene was tampered with - cleaned up completely, in fact. Body stolen from the morgue, blood samples stolen - you know the drill. Detective Ray Thomas from Desmond PD was murdered, apparently because he was on the right track. Since then, a playground has been subject to an outbreak of the bees - three children and a teacher died; another seventeen are quarantined. The surviving children and their parents are under military "protection" until they're in the clear. Most of the forensic evidence and computer files have gone missing, too. I have a handful of photographs of Jane Brody but that's about all. My source, M., says the playground was a test, but that there is no immediate danger of a full-scale outbreak. M. also states that subsequent tests should be monitored. My personal assessment is that while the case is one for concern, the trail is dead. We must remain alert for similar situations in the future, but there is no further information to be gained by pursuing this one. Security suggestion: Change computer passwords and increase firewall protection. Enquire about possibility of transferring non- active X File archives to another facility. That's it: Another week, another mutant. Welcome back. Mulder Mulder sat back in his chair with a dissatisfied expression. He hated lying to Scully, and he feared she would know it, which was why he chose to do so by e-mail rather than in person. As it was, he felt it highly unlikely that she would believe him where Jane Brody was concerned. He could almost hear her thoughts on reading the e-mail - //Mulder saying it's time to let a case go? I don't think so!// - but she would have little choice but to accept given a complete lack of evidence available to her. The evidence. After discovering Skinner's part in the disposal of Jane Brody's body, Mulder had personally destroyed much of the evidence against him, but some of it he had retained as a way of protecting the man should further incriminating evidence came to light. In the event that Skinner's part in the cover-up was exposed, he wanted to be able to show how he had been framed for Detective Thomas' murder. The evidence was "misfiled" in a way that would make its location difficult, but Scully could not be underestimated. Mulder frowned. Scully must never know that the man she loved had fallen in with these people to protect her. The guilt would devastate her. And Skinner wanted to give this gift to her as all good men do - secretly, without acknowledgement. It seemed unsatisfactory to him - he ached to tell Scully how much she meant to Skinner, what he was doing for her - but there was honour among men as well as women, and this was how Skinner wanted to play it. Mulder moved the cursor over a button, and hesitated. Then clicked. //Send//. FIVE: SCULLY //That's it: Another week, another mutant. Welcome back.// Scully rose to her feet, massaging her aching nose. Her cancer-ridden sinus felt like it was decaying beneath her skull some days. She grabbed two morphine tablets, checked her watch, and saw she had already taken too much in too short a time. She dry-swallowed them anyway. //He lied.// //Mulder lied to me.// She had already gone into the office while Mulder was out, and she had quickly found the evidence he had "misfiled". It was a trick he had pulled many times in the early days of their partnership, when he hadn't been sure whether he could trust her. She had quickly caught on. He used mental tricks to keep the misfiles straight - usually nothing so overt as the same initials, but the misfiles had a distinctive run of call numbers, and their names were usually an in-joke. She had flicked through the names...Clinton Williams...Katherine Fox...Max Chedd. She stopped. //The Big Cheese//, she had translated. A surveillance photograph of Walter at Desmond PD was there, presumably proving that Walter had tampered with the evidence. So Mulder knew. And he knew she was dying, and he was trying to protect her from the truth until she died. Then he would, no doubt, move in for the kill. And who would protect Susannah then? She hung her head, silent tears coursing down her cheeks. Her lover had betrayed her, and now her best friend had lied to her. In a way, that was almost as bad. Her life was a tornado, and she was alone in the deathly silent centre amid the chaos. She was at ground zero. Scully had never felt so alone in her life. COMING SOON: Someone I Trusted XII: Redux, in which Scully turns on Skinner Someone I Trusted XIII: Tergiversate, in which Scully learns the truth from an unexpected source Someone I Trusted XIV: Pendrell's Legacy, in which Sarron's meaning becomes clear