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UNIVERSAL INVARIANTS

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by syntax6

Chapter Five: A Generation Lost in Space

"You know when I was a kid, I had this ritual. I closed my 
eyes before I walked into my room, cause I thought that one 
day when I opened them my sister would be there. Just lying 
in bed, like nothing ever happened. You know I'm still 
walking into that room, everyday of my life." -- Mulder in 
"Conduit"

~*~*~*

Scully awoke to streaming sun and the pungent smell of 
coffee. She scrunched deeper into the pillow, denying the 
obvious arrival of day. The mattress sagged behind her.

"Morning," Ethan said.  "I brought breakfast."

Scully shifted to squint at him.  He had a tray on his lap, 
loaded down with orange juice, coffee, a toasted bagel and 
cream cheese, and what looked like fresh cut strawberries.

He licked a stray bit of cream cheese from his thumb.  

"Come on," he said when she didn't say anything.  "I come 
in peace."

Scully sat up.  "What are you going to eat?"

"I'll grab a bagel on the way in.  I can't stay.  Got an 
early meeting."

Scully sipped the coffee and fingered the violet he'd stuck 
in a bud vase.  "You took this from my plant," she said.

"You're still mad."  He sighed and leaned back against the 
headboard.

"I'm not mad. I'm--" She hesitated, searching. 
"Disappointed."

"God, I think I'd rather have mad."

"Dredging all that stuff up about Mulder and his sister and 
putting it on TV -- how exactly does that help find Patty 
Waeleski?"

"It doesn't," he admitted.  "But that's not my job.  That's 
your job.  My job is to keep the public informed about 
what's going on with the case."

"So put the case on TV, not Mulder."

"At this point, my dear, they are one and the same.  
Besides, if I were Mulder, I'd want my mug on TV every 
chance I got."

She raised an eyebrow at him.

"If his sister is out there," he explained, "she might just 
see him."

Scully turned to regard him more seriously.  "You think 
she's still alive?"

"No."  He kissed her cheek.  "But Mulder does.  Have a good 
day.  I'll call you."

~*~*~*~*~

Blevins kept his office well chilled, and Scully suppressed 
a shiver as she stepped inside.  She checked quickly for 
the dark, smoking figure in the corner, but he was not 
present.  "You wanted to see me, sir?" she asked Blevins.

She made it a point not to sit.

"Mulder's got a new case," Blevins said, "and this one has 
raised some concern here that I hope you can allay."

"Mulder has a new case?  I thought he was still working on 
Patty Waeleski's disappearance."

Blevins placed his hands over his ample belly.  "Mulder's 
contribution to the Waeleski case was most welcome.  Thanks 
to him, we have a prime suspect."

"The CD store manager, Stan Manning.  I saw the news.  
Mulder said he doesn't believe Manning is guilty."

"If Manning is innocent, the investigation will show that."

"Patty is still missing.  I don't understand why you would 
remove Agent Mulder from the case."

"If you saw the news, then you shouldn't have to ask why."

Scully stiffened.  "You would take Mulder off an active, 
open case because of a little media attention?"

Blevins gestured vaguely.  "Agent Mulder is not off the 
case per se.  For a variety of reasons, we felt his talent 
would be better utilized elsewhere right now.  If we have a 
development in the Waeleski case that requires his 
attention, you can be sure we will notify him immediately."

"Sir, don't you think the public will find it odd that a 
major news broadcast heralds Mulder as the Waeleski's best 
hope and the very next day the FBI removes him from the 
case?"

"It's not my place to cater to public opinion, Ms. Scully.  
The public can rest assured we have a number of our very 
best agents working the case.  Mulder was brought in to 
identify a suspect, a job he performed ably."  

His tone made it clear that the topic was closed, but 
Scully could not leave it alone.  "I can't believe you 
would take him from the case with the girl still missing."

"Even if it is to look for another missing girl?"  Blevins 
raised bushy eyebrows.  He took a folder and handed it to 
her. "Agent Mulder's latest 302.  Requesting assignment and 
travel expenses for the both of you."

"Sioux City, Iowa.  That's the first I've heard of it."

Scully flipped the page and saw the newspaper clipping 
attached.  "TEEN TAKEN FROM TENT BY ALIENS," it read.

"I don't understand," Scully said.

"In essence, Mulder is petitioning the bureau to attach a 
case number to a tabloid headline."

Scully's heart sank.  "He must have more evidence than 
this."

"Not according to the 302."

Scully began to see why they were concerned. But Blevins 
was not through yet.  He got up and retrieved a second X-
file, which he also handed to her.  Scully opened it and 
caught her breath at the sight of Mulder's little sister.

Oh, Mulder, she thought. What are you doing?

"You don't have to protect him," Blevins told her.  "He 
initiated the file himself.  We need to know. In your 
opinion, has Agent Mulder's personal agenda clouded his 
professional judgment?"

Yes. Yes.  And yes.

"In my opinion, no," Scully heard herself say.  Mulder was 
blind, but he was not stupid.  She risked a guess he knew 
more than he was telling.

Besides, at this point, she owed him one.

"I am going to disallow the 302," Blevins said, picking up 
his pen.

"With respect, sir," Scully blurted.  "At least let me talk 
to him first."

~*~*~*~*~*~

Scully took the file to the basement.  "You didn't tell me 
we had a new case."

"I see Blevins filed you in," he replied carelessly, eyeing 
her folder.  "I didn't think he would ever approve it."

"He hasn't.  Yet."

"Oh, I see," Mulder said, rocking forward with a grin.  
"You're the keeper of the crypt."

Scully dropped her chin.  She could not look at him.  
"Mulder.  I want to apologize again for Ethan's piece.  If 
it in any way affected this case--"

"Please," he said, waving her off.  "Is that what they told 
you?  They were looking for a reason to sit me down.  The 
more I can stay out of the limelight, the happier they are.  
When they finally realize Manning isn't the guy, they'll 
come sniffing around again."

"And you?"

Mulder pointed at the picture of Patty he had tacked to his 
wall.  "I'll be ready."

Scully peeked again at the inside of the new file she had 
in her hand.  The missing girl was Ruby Morris, aged 
sixteen.  She, too, had a brother left behind.  Just like 
Patty.  

She listened to Mulder explain how Ruby Morris disappeared 
from a known UFO hotspot, Lake Okobogee, and how her 
mother, Darlene, had been involved in a UFO incident in 
1967.

Scully did not believe a word of it.  The file listed Ruby 
as a probable runaway.

She hoped it was true.  If it were, Fox Mulder might have a 
shot to bring home a lost sister at last.

Scully gave her approval for the 302.

~*~*~*~*~*~

She watched him read the pictures in the Morris household 
with his hands and was reminded of blind Willie Holcomb, 
the man who "saw" crime scenes in a way others could not.

Scully spoke to the frazzled mother while Mulder devoted 
most of his time to Ruby's small, silent brother Kevin.  
Scully supposed this made good sense.  Kevin was the only 
possible witness to Ruby's disappearance.

She watched through peripheral vision as Mulder chatted 
with the boy.  What did one ask a fellow sibling whose 
sister had disappeared into the light, she wondered?

She hoped Mulder had the good sense not to put ideas in the 
kid's head.  

Afterward, in the car, he showed her what Kevin had given 
him.  "He's got pages of this stuff, Scully."

Scully looked at the pages of ones and zeroes written in an 
eight year-old's handwriting.  "Binary code?  What's a boy 
that age know about numeric coding?"

"He says it's coming from the TV."

Scully let the page rest in her lap.  "The TV?  Isn't that 
just a little too 'Poltergeist' for you, Mulder?"

"I'm only reporting what Kevin told me.  As you just said, 
it's unlikely he would have the knowledge to create 
something like this on his own."

"Something like what, Mulder?  This could be just a bunch 
of jibberish for all we know."

He plucked the paper back from her.  "That's why I want it 
checked out."

Scully touched her fingers to her face, choosing her words 
carefully.  "When I was little and my father was away at 
sea, I used to have these compulsive tasks I'd perform to 
try to keep him safe.  His birthday was March seventh, so I 
would try to do things in multiples of seven.  I brushed my 
teeth for seventy seconds.  I took seven steps to cross the 
room.  At night in bed I would count backwards from one 
thousand by subtracting sevens."

"Must have worked," Mulder commented.

"Of course it didn't work. But it made me feel like I had 
some control over what happened to my father.  I think 
Kevin's number game might be the same kind of thing.  He's 
trying to feel connected to his sister."

"You could be right," Mulder said, and ceased argument.  

Scully looked out the side windows at the passing pine 
trees.  She could be right, of course, but somehow, when it 
came to Mulder, she never was.

~*~*~*~*~*

They found a dead boyfriend in the woods.  A biker with his 
ear burned off from radiation.  The NSA wanted a piece of 
Kevin since his number game turned out to have defense 
satellite information embedded in it.

All of this, but still no Ruby.

Night deepened the sky as they climbed back into their 
rented car.  Mulder sat behind the wheel, but he scrubbed 
his face with his hands rather than putting the key in the 
ignition.  Scully waited.

Finally, he turned to her, expression cloaked in shadow.  
"You want to get a drink or something?"

Her clothes were stuck to her skin in the thick summer 
humidity.  After getting rousted by the NSA in the middle 
of the night the evening before, she wanted only to shower 
and to climb into bed.  But she sensed if she said "no" 
now, there might never come another offer.

"Sure," she said.

He took them back to the biker bar, which was doing a 
pretty good business for a Wednesday night.  They ordered 
drinks from a waitress in tight cut-offs and a T-shirt that 
said "Slippery When Wet."  The wooden table had deep scars 
over the surface.

"Apparently we're supposed to carve our names," Mulder 
remarked.  "Do you suppose that's how the waitress 
remembers where to bring the drinks?"

"Somehow I doubt she reads much." Scully cast an eye around 
at the other clientele; leather and shredded cotton seemed 
to be the standard attire.  Whether it was the too loud 
music or too much booze, she couldn't say, but the bikers 
did not appear to mind two FBI agents in their midst.

Scully relaxed a little and daintily plucked a few beer 
nuts from the sad, fake wooden bowl.  Mulder watched her, 
openly amused.

"I can't believe you're eating those."

"I haven't had anything to eat in eight hours.  It's either 
this, or I'll be singing on the table."

"Can you sing?"

"Not in such a way that it's recognizable as singing, no."  
She smiled and he smiled back, nudging the bowl at her.

"Better eat up then."  

He fiddled with the napkin dispenser for a minute, and then 
occupied himself playing ketchup bottle hockey.  The 
waitress arrived with Scully's margarita and Mulder's beer.

She took an experimental sip.  "Not bad."

Mulder nodded and drank his beer.  Scully leaned back in 
the booth, licking the traces of salt from her lips.  
Mulder said nothing and she was not sure what sort of 
conversation was appropriate.  In months of work together, 
she and Mulder had not made any attempts to socialize.

"So," she said. 
 
"So," Mulder agreed.  He drew a line through the 
condensation on his beer bottle.  They looked at each 
other.

"Kevin is getting messages from the TV," she said at 
length.  "This is still your theory."

"He's getting them from somewhere.  We can agree on that, 
right?"

Scully nodded.  "It's just the TV part is a little hard to 
swallow."

"You mean you can't feel it?"

"Feel what?"

Mulder's leg brushed hers under the table.  He seemed 
restless, searching.  "You know when I said before, how I'm 
still walking into that room?"

The room with his sister, each time hoping she would 
magically be there when he opened his eyes.  "Yes."

"It's like--It's not just a metaphor, Scully. I am 
literally walking into those rooms.  Each time I take a 
case like this, it's always the same.  You go into a house 
with a missing child.  You open the front door and this 
gushing pain comes out.  The people inside can barely talk.  
It feels like the whole building might crumble at any 
second."

"I can't even imagine."

"I guess you can't."  He wasn't snappish, merely accepting.  
"When a child just vanishes like that..." He shook his 
head.  "It seems so unreal that you start wondering what 
else might happen, what other unreal things are waiting out 
there.  Things that seemed impossible before become your 
reality."

"You mean like UFOs?" She treaded carefully, not looking at 
him so she wouldn't seem confrontational.

He drank some more beer.  "UFOs, messages from the TV set, 
whatever. I know you think I'm crazy."

"No," she said quickly.

"That little girl in Poltergeist who disappeared into the 
TV -- her family had to go in after her."

"Is that what you're doing?"

He shrugged.  "Sometimes I wonder if we aren't already 
living inside the TV set.  All of us."

Mulder ordered a second beer.  Then a third.  He was not 
stumbling around drunk, but Scully elected to drive back to 
the motel.  Mulder leaned against his car door and looked 
up at the sky.

At the Stay and Save, they walked down the hall corridor 
under eerie gray lights.  Mulder's room was first, and she 
paused with him to say good night.  He stuck the plastic 
key in the lock but did not open the door.  Instead he 
loomed over her, eyes hooded.  Stubble dotted his chin.

"You're so sure," he said, and she could smell the beer on 
his breath.  He had her trapped between his body and the 
wall.  "All the time."

Scully swallowed.  His hand came up and traced the side of 
her face, barely touching her.

"Once it happens," he breathed, "you can't go back.  Can't 
ever go back.  You know?"

"I know," Scully lied.  He swayed a little and dropped his 
hand.  Then he drew himself up.

"It's late.  Or early.  One or the other, I don't know 
which."  He rubbed his head.

"Mulder--"

He opened his door and stepped inside.  "Go to bed, 
Scully."

The door shut on her face, and Scully stood there staring 
at it. At last, she touched her fingertips to the wood and 
walked away.

Scully went back to her room, showered and climbed into 
bed. Alcohol burned in her veins. She counted backwards by 
sevens until she slept.

~*~*~*~*~*~

The sky turned a smoky orange and the earth trembled.  
Bikers tore through the woods like harbingers of a heavy-
metal apocalypse. Scully remembered Darlene screaming and
Mulder's great black coat flapping away into the night. 

Somehow, through it all, Ruby Morris reappeared.

Scully and Mulder watched outside the hospital room as 
Darlene fussed over her daughter.  "They spit her back, 
Scully," Mulder said.  "Like she was a fish too small to 
fry."

"She's back, that's what matters.  You found her."

Kevin Morris lingered by the door, small face ever serious.

"I didn't find her," Mulder answered.  "Kevin did.  He knew 
all the time she would return."

Kevin paced, casting looks back at his sister.  He stopped 
and met Mulder and Scully's gaze, but did not smile.

"You would think he'd be happier," Scully said.  "Ruby is 
going to be okay."

Mulder shook his head.  "It's like I said, Scully.  You 
can't ever go back."

~*~*~*~*~

Back in the city, Scully crawled into bed next to Ethan.  
He stirred and smiled sleepily when he saw she was with 
him.  "Hey," he said, encircling his arms around her.  
"You're here."

"Yeah." She rested her cheek against his chest.

"Tough case?" he asked, stroking the length of her spine.

"Mmmm.  I guess.  Another missing girl, but she isn't 
missing anymore."

Ethan kissed the top of her head. "That's great.  Everyone 
loves a happy ending."

Across town, Mulder set his bag down in the hall and fitted 
his key to the lock.  He held his breath, closed his eyes 
and pushed open the door.

No one was waiting on the other side.

~*~*~*~*~*~

Mulder rose before dawn and ran his usual route through the 
streets around his apartment.  The sky brightened, stars 
winking out, and Mulder raced the sun back to his doorstep.

The morning paper carried no news of Patty Waeleski.  The 
cops had not announced anything since their interrogation 
of Stan Manning.

Fresh from one success, Mulder felt renewed.  If Ruby could 
come home, then so could Patty.

He grabbed a bottle of water and popped his copy of the CD 
store surveillance tape into the VCR.  Patty flickered onto 
the screen, searching through the bin of Beatles albums one 
more time.  Mulder had the small section of tape memorized 
by now, but he couldn't help feeling like there was 
something he was missing.

He hit the "slow motion" button and watched Patty become 
almost animatronic.  Mulder leaned forward to study the 
screen.

"Huh," he said.  He hit rewind and tried it again.  "Son of 
a bitch."

Mulder palmed the phone and dialed Scully's number.  
"Hello?" she said, sleepy.

"She knew him, Scully.  She had to."

"Mulder?  What are you talking about?"

"Patty Waeleski.  I'm watching the tape again.  If you slow 
it down, you can see she gives this half-smile before she 
turns around.  She heard a voice she knew."

"If she frequented the store, she would know Manning," 
Scully said.

"It's not Manning.  Whoever took this girl, it was 
personal. I'll bring the tape to work, and you can see for 
yourself."

Two hours later, he stood with her in the basement as they 
went over the tape frame by frame.  "You see?" he asked.  
"She recognizes a voice before she ever turns around."

"Okay, then who was it?"

"I don't know."  Mulder hit "pause."  "I'm thinking maybe 
we should take a run at the Coach."

"Dave Matlock?  Last I heard, he gave a statement to police 
and was refusing to answer any more questions."

"Says it's hurtful to his training program," Mulder agreed.  
"Cops didn't push it when he turned up with an alibi for 
the afternoon Patti disappeared."

"So then why do you want to take a run at him?"

"His star athlete is missing.  He doesn't seem that 
invested in getting her back.  I'd like to know why."

Scully sat on the edge of his desk.  "And what makes you 
think he'll talk to us?"

"I've been thinking about that."  He dragged a rolling 
chair over to her and took a seat.  From this angle, she 
was taller than he was.  She had her arms folded and her 
mouth set in that go-ahead-I-dare-you-to-impress-me line he 
had grown to know so well. If he could sell Scully, he 
could sell anyone.

"There is an old mystery story," he began, "about a doctor 
who was selling illegal drugs to some of his patients.  
Let's call this guy Jones.  Another patient found out -- 
let's call him Smith -- and Smith started blackmailing 
Jones with some secret tapes he made of Jones's illicit 
contractions."

"What does this have to do with Coach Matlock?"

"I'm getting to that.  Anyway, Jones goes to this medical 
convention in Florida.  It's quite posh and all the doctors 
have their own cabins.  Smith decides to tag along and get 
more money out of Jones.  He rents his own cabin at the 
resort and calls Jones in the middle of the night, 
demanding payment.  Jones agrees to hand over a huge chunk 
of cash, but only if Smith will give him the tapes at last.  
Smith says he has the tapes and Jones can take them so long 
as he brings the money."

"Is there a point here, Mulder?"

"I'm getting to it.  Anyway, long story short, Jones shows 
up with a knife instead of the money.  He stabs Smith, and 
while Smith lies dying on the floor, Jones ransacks the 
place for the tapes.  He finds them and hustles out the 
door."

"End of story?"

"Not quite.  A few hours later, Jones is awakened by a 
phone call.  It's the police on the other end.  'Come 
quickly,' says the Lieutenant, 'a man has been stabbed and 
is near death.'"

"So he didn't die," Scully said.  "Big mistake."

"Yes, that's what Jones is thinking too.  He throws on some 
clothes and goes racing out to the cabin, trying to figure 
out what he's going to do about Smith.  He can't let him 
live because he'll tell everything."

Scully was into the story now, he could tell.  She leaned 
towards him.  "What happened next?"

"So Jones gets to the cabin and finds it full of cops.  
Smith is lying dead on the floor.  He's been dead for 
several hours.  'Why did you say to come quickly?' Jones 
asks the Lieutenant. 'This man is quite clearly dead.'

"'Yes,' the Lieutenant replies, 'but you can see he has 
written the name of his attacker in blood.' Sure enough, 
next to the body, Smith had written 'DR.'

"'There are a hundred doctors here,' Jones protests. 'This 
could be anyone.'

"'That's what I thought too,' the Lieutenant replies. 
'That's why I called them all and said to come quickly.  
The only thing is, I didn't tell them where to come.  
You're the only one who showed up.'"

"Busted," Scully said, smiling as she got the joke.  "Very 
clever.  But what does this have to do with Coach Matlock?"

Mulder hauled the phone across the desk and handed Scully 
the receiver.  "Call the Coach.  Tell him you know how 
Patti sprained her arm, and if he wants to keep you quiet, 
he'll meet you in Montrose Park at noon.  North entrance."

"Why me?"

"He has to believe Patti would have told someone her 
secret.  Patti's more likely to talk to a woman."

Scully made the call.

"Did he take the bait?" Mulder asked.

"I don't know. He hung up on me."

Mulder grabbed his jacket.  "Time to go feed the pigeons in 
the park, Scully."

"You really think he'll be there?"

Mulder was already far ahead. He didn't really have an 
answer.

But in a week where little girls returned from the sky, 
anything was possible.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

End chapter five.  Continued in chapter six.

Many thanks to Amanda for proofing!

A cookie to anyone who gets the chapter title reference. 
*g*

Sorry for the long wait this time.  It's been a hellish 
couple of weeks!

It's always nice to know if people are reading!

Feedback always welcome at syn_tax6@yahoo.com