Title: Space Invader
By: ML
Archive: just let me know where
Spoilers: Deep Throat
Rating: everyone
Disclaimer: I still don’t own them, darn it, just the action figures. But I’m grateful to Chris Carter, 1013, and Fox, not to mention all the actors, for bringing these characters to life and giving me so much enjoyment.
Acknowledgments: to the Posse, always.
Author’s notes: This is the second story in an exploration of the early seasons. They are loosely tied together but can be read as standalones as well.
Synopsis: There are many different kinds of invasions.
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Space Invader
by ML
The bar was very crowded, but that was an advantage. He could sit nursing his drink and no one would notice him.
He observed the comings and goings in the bar, but he always had half an eye on the young woman sitting a few seats down from him at the bar. She was dressed in a business suit, reading a file as she sipped at what he was sure was club soda.
A number of men were attracted to her as they approached the bar. A few of the more intrepid tried to address the young woman, but she either barely glanced at them or ignored them entirely.
She was a cool customer, this one. He was impressed by her composure in the midst of this cacophony, curiously at ease in the maelstrom. With nothing better to do for the moment, he enjoyed the view.
Then another man approached, partly blocking his view. Undeterred by the obvious “back off” signal that most other men seemed to sense from her, he leaned in close, invading her personal space.
To the observer’s surprise, she turned and spoke to him directly, tilting her head to his as he towered over her. For one brief moment, he thought the man would bridge the very small gap between them and kiss her.
He shook his head. Flights of fancy were not his usual style, but there was something in what he saw — a brief spark of mutual attraction, perhaps?
Then the man turned and he realized who he was observing: Fox Mulder. Which meant the woman had to be his partner, Dana Scully.
Interesting.
He’d only seen photographs of Agent Scully thus far and until now had only a passing interest in her. She was not the reason for his visit to this particular bar on this particular afternoon. The pictures he’d seen did not do her justice — obviously out of date, not surprising he’d not recognized her right away.
Fox Mulder he knew much better, though they’d only met once and Fox had been so young it was doubtful that he remembered. Even as a young boy, before tragedy befell his family, he was more interested in his books than in visitors.
He watched as the two agents made their way to a table, Agent Mulder the picture of courtesy, holding Agent Scully’s chair before seating himself with his back to the bar.
He could tell from Dana Scully’s expression that Mulder was making his case. Her expression was serious, though one eyebrow was raised every so slightly. She listened. She asked a question, and listened to his answer, listened some more, and then spoke at length with some intensity.
From the set of Mulder’s shoulders, her response wasn’t enthusiastic. They continued to debate for a few minutes more, and then Mulder excused himself.
That was his cue. He got up from the bar and ambled toward the men’s room, glancing at their table as he did so. Agent Scully was intent on the contents of the file Agent Mulder had presented her with.
He entered the men’s room cautiously. Fox Mulder had a bit of a reputation for flying off the handle, and approaching anyone in a men’s room was a chancy business anyway. He thought he’d finished with these hole-and-corner dealings, but he’d been recruited back into active duty in this strange new war they were fighting, and he had to use the tools of the trade, however distasteful they’d become to him.
Agent Mulder was busy drying his hands as he spoke, a nicety of timing he was glad he still possessed.
Moments later, he was out the door of the bar, before Mulder recovered from his surprise and could chase him down. He didn’t have to wait around to see results — Mulder also had a reputation for contrariness and flouting authority. Tell him no, and he was more likely to go ahead and do what he wanted.
The hook was baited; now, like a patient fisherman, he’d have to see if he got a strike.
end.