Theater of the Absurd II: Home
By Anna Otto and Ashlea Ensro
annaotto1@aol.com <mailto:annaotto1@aol.com> & morleyphile@yahoo.com <mailto:morleyphile@yahoo.com>

Disclaimer and other information in Act I

Act IV: The Tug of War

Skinner read the sparse, concise report on the case of 
Sharona Adamowictz, signed by Fox Mulder and Dana Scully. They 
had no chance to investigate before she was delivered to the 
Georgetown Medical Center. The young woman still hasn't regained 
consciousness, but her vitals were strong and she was expected to 
recover fully and quickly. The case was put on hold until such 
time as Sharona could tell her story.

This report was unlike any that came from the X-Files 
department two years ago. There were no outlandish theories 
from Mulder on the woman's whereabouts during the two weeks she 
was missing. There were no speculations from Scully on what she 
may have been suffering from. Nothing but straight, dry facts. 
He read it again, seeking familiarity in the strangely 
dispassionate account. 

<Delivered.>

The choice of words made him cringe.

"I am surprised by your forgiving nature, Mr. Skinner." 

He looked up at the smoker coolly, wondering for how much 
longer he could ignore his presence. 

The visitor, apparently unperturbed by the lack of reaction, 
continued in tone. "Had I been in your place, I wouldn't let Mulder 
and Scully step inside the Hoover building," he gazed into space 
reflectively. "After everything they put you through..."

Skinner closed the file and put it away with a sigh. "I've 
been taking lessons from you," he conceded to the conversation 
reluctantly. "After everything you suffered from their 
interference... essentially, you let the snake into your own 
house."

"Really?" The Smoking Man sounded genuinely surprised, 
cigarette pausing in the air for a second before continuing its 
journey to the mouth. "They have always been extremely helpful."

"Just your presence here indicates that they are doing 
*something* right," Skinner commented calmly. "Now, would you 
tell me what is it and kindly leave?"

"I understand why you would want them back." Thin smoke 
curled upward, accumulating at the ceiling like a threatening 
cloud. "Why, they must have solved this latest case in a 
day! Supernatural speed."

"Just a lucky break."

"Was it, Mr. Skinner?" the Smoking Man cocked his head to 
the side. "Well, perhaps."

Skinner shrugged philosophically, turned back to his 
paperwork.

"It would probably make sense to give these two other 
missing person cases to Mulder and Scully, as well," the Smoking 
Man nodded to a couple of folders lying off to the side. "Maybe 
they will get lucky again."

"Thank you for advice," he stood up, walking to the door. 
"If you will excuse me, I will follow it right now."

The visitor brushed past him, turning around with a slight 
smile. 

"The snake may change its skin, but it's still a snake. 
Take that from someone who'd dealt with a lot of serpents, 
Mr. Skinner."

* * *

Skinner watched coldly as the door closed behind the smoker. 
Demagogic conversations aside, there *was* something strange about 
the Adamowictz report, though he would be hard-pressed to find an 
objective reason to nit-pick it.

Picking up the two folders, he walked downstairs, hoping 
to catch the agents still at work, despite the late hour on Friday. 
He wasn't disappointed when the light greeted him from behind the 
closed doors. 

"Good evening, sir," Mulder welcomed him with a smile. He 
gestured at the half-packed briefcase. "I was just about to leave."

"I won't take too much of your time," he took in the 
organized chaos in the office that had grown progressively worse 
since it became occupied, once again. "Just wanted to commend you 
on the success of the last case."

Skinner watched as Mulder shifted uncomfortably, his 
fingers starting to play with a pencil nervously. "It was nothing. 
It didn't depend on us."

"Regardless, this was a success," he disagreed. "Did Agent 
Scully already leave?"

"Yes, she was going to drive over to Baltimore. She wanted 
to avoid traffic," Mulder's voice changed colors. "I told her it 
would be good if she... if she went there again."

Skinner translated his words. Scully had no recollection 
of Margaret, and she wouldn't have wanted to visit, especially 
alone. 

The tense silence stretched and he glanced down at the 
folders in his hand. "I have two more cases similar to the one you 
just completed," he offered them to Mulder who made no move to 
accept them. "It looks like work of the same person or group of 
people," he continued, undaunted.

Mulder didn't speak as folders landed on the desk. 

"Agent Mulder," Skinner was somewhat alarmed at this 
unnatural passivity. "Perhaps you should take a look at all 
three kidnappings, write a profile?"

"Sir," there was a begging note in Mulder's voice. 
"Maybe..." he didn't finish the thought, nodding to the pile of 
folders on his desk. "We have enough work."

"This work waited for two years," Skinner snapped, 
immediately regretting his own abruptness as Mulder flinched 
visibly. "This is more urgent," he explained, in a softer tone.

Mulder's cellphone trilled and he muttered excuses as he 
reached into his jacket pocket. "Fox Mulder," he offered tersely, 
listened to someone on the other end, the color slowly draining 
from his face. "I understand," he choked on the words, tried to 
regain his ability to speak. "Thank you. I understand," he 
repeated once again. 

"We shouldn't have done this," he whispered despairingly 
as he punched the end button.

"Did something happen?" Skinner was chilled by the 
expression of horror that his agent didn't try to disguise. 
"Who was it?"

Mulder stood up, finished packing quickly, the two folders 
Skinner brought stuffed into his briefcase along with the rest of 
the daily work. "It was the hospital. Sharona Adamowictz is 
dead."

"What?" Skinner took a step forward, tried to meet Mulder's 
eyes without success. "How?"

"She went into seizures and passed away thirty minutes ago," 
Mulder explained, shrugging into his coat. "I asked them to contact 
us in case anything happened."

"It could have happened for any reason, Mulder," Skinner 
grabbed his shoulder, hoping that he interpreted his reaction 
correctly. "This is not your fault."

"You don't understand," Mulder shrugged the offending 
appendage away, opening the door quickly. "It didn't work. I have 
to... I'm sorry."

Skinner listened to the sound of receding footsteps, puzzled 
and disturbed by his agent's reaction. What was he supposed to 
understand? 

Distractedly, he picked up the top folder from the teetering 
pile on Mulder's desk. Poltergeist. He rolled his eyes, put it away. 
Next folder... strange animals in Mexico City. Third folder told of 
the demonic possession. Now uneasy, he opened up the next file, and 
the one after that. 

Half an hour later, after he'd gone through the pile, Skinner 
stared at his fingers and tried to subdue their trembling. All of 
these cases were perfectly within the scope of the X-Files department. 

They were also perfectly useless. Bland.

Non-threatening. 

Skinner looked around, certain that he'd missed something - 
his gaze catching another pile, albeit smaller, hidden from view 
under Scully's desk. More reading yielded results considerably 
different from the first pile. Here were purported alien abductions. 
Visions of the UFOs. Unresolved murders with insufficient evidence. 

Two years ago, Mulder would have jumped at the chance to 
investigate each one of these cases.

Today, the partners used them as a footrest.

<They've always been extremely helpful.>

No, he told himself firmly. Since when did he listen to 
this black-lunged bastard? 

<We shouldn't have done this...>

Skinner took a deep breath, corrected the disturbed pile 
of folders - set it back under the table. Everything was coming 
back to normal - there was no reason to grow paranoid and suspicious.

None at all.

* * *

"Dana, honey..."

Scully started, then turned around with a brilliant smile. 
"Yes?"

Margaret studied the familiar blue eyes that seemed to look 
past her, the tense posture of her daughter's small figure. "You've 
been in the kitchen for the past two hours. I hope you didn't come 
here to cook."

Scully glanced at the lasagna rolls she'd been stuffing for 
the past half-hour, at the chicken breasts soaking in the marinade. 
"I just wanted to do something nice for you," she explained guiltily. 
"I haven't called since..."

Margaret squeezed a smile, scared at the answer. "You don't 
have to apologize. I know you have a busy life."

"It doesn't matter," Dana shook her head resolutely. "I 
should have come before. Or called. If Mulder didn't..." she stopped, 
bit her lip, knowing that she slipped and it was too late to backtrack. 
"Oops."

"Did Fox tell you to come?" Maggie had to make an effort to 
sound even, understanding. "He always was... considerate."

Dana laughed bitterly. "Was he? Yes, I bet he was," she turned 
back to the table, mixed the perfect stuffing to an even better 
consistency. "What was I?"

"Dana..." Margaret couldn't think of a reply, and walked 
around the table to clasp her daughter's hand. "You are a strong, 
caring, intelligent, kind woman. You always were and you always 
will be. You cannot remember what your life was - but it doesn't 
change your essence. It doesn't change who you are."

Dana stared at the small fingers of her mother and drew her 
wrist back gently, imperceptibly. "You've never asked what we were 
doing in San Diego. Don't you want to know?"

Margaret was startled by the metallic notes in Dana's voice. 
"I don't want to intrude."

"Dana Scully was a saint."

Margaret shook her head, the same grotesque sensation she'd 
felt in San Diego coming back to engulf her. The icy glare of the blue 
eyes that accosted her, the cruel set of the mouth that mocked her 
hardly belonged to her daughter.

"Dana?" she whispered, unsure of what response she was looking 
for. Praying that this stranger would suddenly transform into the young 
woman she'd once known and loved. 

But Margaret still loved Dana. Didn't she?

<But was this woman really Dana?> 

The doorbell saved her from answering the tricky question.

"Fox!"

"Mrs. Scully," Fox Mulder stood at the doorstep, shivering in 
the cold wind. "I was looking for Dana - is she here?"

"Of course - come in," Margaret was relieved to see her 
daughter's partner, for reasons she couldn't fully explain or comprehend. 
"She was cooking all evening, so this time you might get a chance to eat 
a home-cooked meal." She drew a breath, knowing that she was blabbering, 
but unable to help herself. "I know that I went a little overboard the 
last time."

"It's all right, Mrs. Scully," Mulder followed her into the
kitchen.

"Mulder," Scully grabbed a tray with rolls, set it in the oven. 
"Just a minute," she adjusted the temperature. "What are you doing 
here?"

"I am sorry to interrupt," he glanced uncomfortably at Margaret, 
took Scully's hand. "We need to talk."

"Mom," Dana started. "Could you..."

"Of course," Margaret smiled brightly, insincerely. "I will be 
in the living room."

She closed the door to the kitchen, took a few steps away, but 
at the sound of Dana's voice stopped abruptly, her hand flying up to 
cover the sob that was about to escape. 

"I cannot be here. I am not what this woman needs."

<This woman?>

Mulder's voice didn't come for a few moments. "I know it's 
hard," he sounded weary. "But you have to try. We both have to try."

"I'm not Dana Scully."

"But..."

"And you're not Fox Mulder," she continued with mounting 
exasperation. "What are we doing?"

"Trying to play the parts," his reply was soft, anguished. 
"Scully..."

"Don't call me that," his partner hissed.

He sighed. "*Kathy*. I think we may have bigger problems 
than this."

Margaret leaned against the kitchen door, trying to still 
her breath. Listening in on her daughter and her partner may have 
been wrong. But listening in on these two people... 

Not only did it seem right, it was absolutely necessary.

"I got a call from the hospital. Sharona is dead."

A startled gasp was his answer. "Oh my God. The vaccine didn't 
work - or there were complications..."

"And Skinner gave me two more cases. Here," there was a flutter 
of papers. "I remember these two. We saw them in the laboratory."

"Subjects of the same experiment?"

"Yes. We need to make sure you do the autopsy tomorrow."

"Paul... what if we killed Sharona simply by taking her out of 
the lab? Even if we could, we shouldn't interrupt anymore."

"I agree," the answering voice was suddenly stronger, more 
assured. "Kathy, I don't like what's happening. The testing is 
attracting too much attention."

"I've worked so hard to make this vaccine work," she whispered. 
"We all have. I never imagined that human experimentation would fail." 

He moaned. "This is so - *wrong*."

"What are you proposing?" she asked. "We can't just call them 
and ask what's up."

A heavy sigh was her answer - in the ensuing silence, the timer 
of the oven sounded shrill and abrupt.

Margaret Scully sat on the floor, rocking from side to side, her 
hands covering her ears.

The tears that rolled down her cheeks were gray and salty. But 
they didn't signify sadness or grief.

For the first time, Margaret tasted hatred.

* * *

"Such a pity." The morgue attendant slowly unzipped the body bag, 
revealing the still face of the young woman. "She was beautiful."

Mulder grunted without commitment, tossing a furtive glance 
towards Scully. "An autopsy hasn't been conducted yet," he said.

"We were waiting for notification from her family."

"We were told she didn't have any family," Scully retorted.

"Well..." The attendant glanced at the dead woman's face. "I 
don't know what the relation is, but *somebody* certainly seemed 
interested in her the other day."

Mulder felt himself gripped by a sense of outrage. Those 
bastards...they would just as soon take the body and cover up the 
whole incident. They would probably do exactly that.

The morgue attendant was still talking, directing his words to 
Scully. "They said it's against their religion, or something...the 
family...that she has to be buried right away."

"I am sure they are interested in finding the cause of her 
death," Scully said coldly, "In finding the persons responsible."

The attendant's eyes traveled over the dead woman's body. 
"I'd be just as happy to keep her here until this is settled."

"Uh..." Mulder hoped that the expression he saw in the man's 
eyes was not a leer, but he had the sinking feeling that it was. "We'll 
be back with the paperwork tomorrow." He lay his hand on Scully's arm 
to guide her outside.

They went out to the car in silence.

They were halfway to the Hoover Building before Scully finally 
spoke.

"Mulder?"

"Yeah?"

"You know, they'll have taken the body by tomorrow."

A pause as his hands slid ever so slightly down the steering 
wheel.

"I know," he said.

* * *

"There's been another abduction," Skinner said.

Scully looked up, startled - wondered why she hadn't noticed 
him standing there. She felt Mulder shift uncomfortably beside her.

"Sir...I'm sorry?"

"Another young woman was taken from her apartment. We have 
reason to believe-" He broke off abruptly. Tried to meet Mulder's 
eyes. When that failed, he looked towards Scully. "It is not common 
Bureau protocol to refuse cases assigned by a superior, is it?"

Scully glanced at Mulder, wondering if she should be the one 
to speak.

"Ummm..."

"I was under the impression that we had an understanding, sir," 
Mulder said quickly.

Skinner glared at him. The disapproval sketched in his eyes 
was familiar, but it was shaded by something else. Exhaustion, 
Scully decided. He looked too tired to fight anymore.

"Do we have an understanding, Agent Mulder?" The voice was 
deadly.

Scully groaned inwardly. "Sir, we can't investigate these 
cases."

The glare migrated to her.

"And why is that?"

"We're not at liberty to explain why, sir." Mulder's voice 
sounded more confident suddenly, more like -

<Paul's voice...>

- the voice of a man who knew he was right.

Scully dealt the final blow. "We...you..." She smoothed back 
her hair, an unconscious reflex. "You have to take our word for it. 
You have to trust us."

For a long time he stood there, watching both of them. "Do 
you trust us, sir?" she asked in almost a whisper.

A hesitation, and then, "Yes."

He was out the door before Scully had the chance to wonder 
if he really meant it.

* * *

"Agent Holmes?"

She turned sharply, recognizing the silky siren call from 
the shadows. As her eyes grew adjusted to the darkness, she could 
see the trademark tip of a black hat over glinting eyes, the flash 
of white teeth in an indistinct blur of features.

"Mr. Ng?"

He was standing behind her car in the parking garage, 
leaning against a concrete pillar. He met her puzzled expression 
with a casual flick of his wrist, motioning for her to come closer.

"What are you doing here? How the hell do you know where 
I live?"

"I am in the business of knowing things," he replied, "As 
for your first question..." A dramatic delay. "I was wondering if 
you had thought any more on our conversation the other day."

She felt her cheeks flush. "Look, I don't know who you are, 
or what kind of twisted agenda you have, but I don't appreciate you 
lurking in the parking lot of my building. So would you please get 
out of my way?"

"Gladly." He stepped aside, one hand sweeping towards her 
car. "Be my guest."

Holmes hesitated, her palm limp on the handle of the door. 
"What do you want from me?"

"I believe I have already answered that question."

"But you never answered why."

"Why I want to help you?"

"I don't want your help."

Martin smiled. "I wonder," he said, "Have you informed your 
partner of this independent streak of yours? How readily would he 
agree with you?"

"You..." She broke off, trying hard to contain the seething 
rage building within her. How dare he?

Martin's smile did not even lessen a fraction. "You doubt my 
motivations, I see. I am sure you have your reasons, however 
misguided. What would I have to do to convince you of my sincerity?"

She said nothing. Did he want her to answer?

He leaned closer. His breath smelled of alcohol. "Yesterday 
a young woman, a victim in a case under investigation by Mulder and 
Scully, died of unknown causes in Georgetown Medical Center."

"Why are you telling me this?"

Martin moved back again. "These people are murderers. You 
know that yourself. The official channels will never bring them to 
justice."

"How do you know?"

He laughed, waving his hand dismissively, as if she was 
the sweetest, most naive creature he had ever encountered. "You've 
seen it, haven't you? Some people are simply above the law."

"You think...they..."

"I know it." He took a few steps backward as she slipped 
into the car. "If you reconsider, Tanya, the offer remains." 
She slammed the door and started the engine. "Have a pleasant 
evening."

Her eyes bore into him.

"You too," she mouthed the words out the window as she 
pulled away.

* * *

Skinner studied Tanya Holmes' face - her expression 
carefully neutral, her hands resting placidly in her lap. He 
recognized a mask when he saw one; still, she was getting better 
at hiding her emotions. 

"Sir, I would like to investigate the case of Sharona 
Adamowitcz." Not a request, a demand.

His eyes narrowed. "The case has been closed."

"I believe that investigation hasn't been complete, sir," 
Holmes retorted. "There has been no autopsy performed - and there 
is still a question of who was responsible for her disappearance 
and subsequent death."

"There was no permission for an autopsy, Agent Holmes," 
Skinner explained wearily. "There were no witnesses who could 
provide any information."

"The body vanished from the morgue," she informed him 
dispassionately. "That could be a start."

"Agent Holmes, I can't let you investigate this. 
Especially," his gaze skimmed over the empty chair, "Especially 
not alone. "

She appeared frail instantly - a doll whose perfect mask 
was about to crumble. Skinner let his eyes drop to the table, 
unwilling to witness it.

"Why are you so interested in it?" he asked instead.

"Because I would like to know the truth. The truth that 
others..." Holmes glanced at him meaningfully, "...are trying 
to hide."

Skinner stared at several folders on his desk - cases 
that the X-Files agents refused to investigate. Cases that he 
now believed were related to the Alderwood Medical Center fiasco. 
If he buried them now - he would be no better than those who were 
responsible for the abductions.

He glanced back at the young woman. The studied calmness 
could not hide the anger and passion burning in the dark eyes. 
If expertly directed, this passion could move mountains or 
destroy cities. 

And suddenly, he felt very tired and very old to stand 
in its way.

"These are three related cases," he handed her the files. 
"One of the young men abducted was returned to Holy Cross Medical 
Center yesterday. He still hasn't regained consciousness. The other 
two are still missing. I wish you good luck."

Holmes eyed him warily. "Thank you."

"I hope," Skinner emphasized each word. "That revenge 
isn't your only motivation." 

Silently, he waited for a reaction to the jab. It didn't 
come. "That will be all."

She walked toward the exit, half-turning on the way back. 
"Why are you protecting them, sir? You saw - you *know* - what 
they had done."

Skinner's lips curled in a self-deprecating smile. The 
explanation for Mulder's and Scully's behavior sounded too 
incredible. Their actions since they came back were too 
questionable. Their motivation was clearly lacking. 

He didn't reply - he could not reply.

He watched as the door closed behind her, felt his jaw 
clench. The X-Files department was operating, but its usefulness 
was minimal. Mulder and Scully were back, but their passion was 
gone - their quest for the truth no longer evident. Darkly, he 
questioned if their decision to come back to work was wise and 
if he should have ever agreed to it.

Glancing at the ash in the little tray on the table, he 
wondered if he wasn't being played for a fool - once again. The 
loyalties of the X-Files agents were clearly suspect.

With all the information that they possessed, after having 
worked for two years in the very organization responsible for their 
abductions - they used none of their knowledge to do any damage, 
they tiptoed around the hot issues.

No one who knew the things they did would be allowed to 
leave - they wouldn't live long enough to draw another breath...

The realization hit, gripping him in icy fingers.

The very fact that Mulder and Scully were here and alive 
signified their disloyalty.

End of Act 4/7