textfiles/sf/XFILES/alk7

                    A Little Knowledge  (7/7)
                  *****************************
                               by
                          Patti Murphy


     The Smoking Man nodded to her.  "Agent Scully," he said. 
"Please come in and have a seat."  There was an ashtray beside
him on the table and an empty chair across from him.
     Scully sat down, never taking her eyes off his face, and she
heard the door behind her close.  The man lit a cigarette.  There
was a languidness about his movements, a deliberate slowing down
of his actions and Scully felt herself tensing as she watched
him.
     "I thought it was important that we talk," he said once he'd
taken a long drag from his cigarette.  "There's something that
you and Agent Mulder need to know."  He took another puff and
then put the cigarette in the ashtray.  "The man who has been
acting as Agent Mulder's anonymous informant is trying to have
you both killed."
     Scully held herself back, tried not to let her expression
change.  "I don't know who you're talking about," she said.
     "You're a poor liar, Agent Scully," he said, "so let's not
waste time.  Three hours ago, someone tried to kill Agent
Mulder."
     She flinched.  "Why should I believe what you're saying?"
she said.
     He picked up his cigarette.  "You have no reason to trust
me," he said, "but your life and your partner's life are in
danger, so I suggest that you listen to what I have to say."
     Scully studied his face, which remained flawlessly neutral. 
"Is Agent Mulder all right?" she asked.
     He nodded.  "For now."
     Scully knew that this was a chess game he was playing with
her, and decided to move a few pieces of her own.  "Agent
Mulder's informant has provided us with valuable information, in
the past," she said.
     "He has helped you only insofar as it furthered his
interests, but now too many people can connect him with you and
Agent Mulder."  He blew smoke into the air, watched it swirl. 
"His position has been compromised."  He looked squarely at
Scully.  "Very simply, Agent Scully, you know too much.  And a
little knowledge can be a very dangerous thing."
     Scully's eyes were burning from the smoke and the pain in
her head hammered at her, made her feel weak, but she kept her
gaze on his face. "Who were those men who came to my apartment
tonight?" she asked.
     "Does it really matter?  They were there to kill you and we
stopped them."
     "Were they working for him?" 
     "No, but he has been using this situation as an opportunity
to have you killed without getting your blood on his hands," he
said.
     "How?"
     "Let's just say that he's in a position to know a great
deal.  He knew that there would be a clean up crew dispatched
with the task of reclaiming the information and eliminating
anyone who had found out too much."
     "Are you saying that he gave us that information so that
some hit squad would come after us?" Scully asked.
     He picked up his cigarette and leaned back in his chair,
crossing his legs.  "It was in his best interest that you and
Agent Mulder get to the bottom of this case as quickly as
possible.  Why do you think he made it so easy for you?"
     She pondered this a moment.  "How do you know all of this?"
she asked.
     The faintest suggestion of a smile crossed his face.  "It is
my business to know such things, Agent Scully."  He puffed on his
cigarette.  "We've been watching him ever since he first
contacted Agent Mulder."
     Scully's face reflected her scepticism.  "I don't believe
you," she said.
     There was at trace of disdain in his look.  "Don't be
stupid, Agent Scully.  If I wanted to know out what your mother
had for breakfast this morning, I could find out in an hour."  He
flicked the ash off the end of his cigarette.  "All that matters
now is that the evidence that was in your possession has been
destroyed.  With no proof to support your claims, you and Agent
Mulder are no longer a threat to those people who would have been
embarrassed by your continuing investigation."
     "You realize that whoever is responsible for the deaths of
all those innocent people is going to get away with it," Scully
said, angrily.  "They're just going to walk away from this. 
Doesn't that bother you?"
     He looked at her through the haze of blue smoke between them
and said nothing for the longest time.  Then, he took a last drag
on his cigarette and extinguished it in the ashtray.  He got up,
walked to the door and opened it. "You'll be escorted home, now,
Agent Scully.  I'm glad we had the chance to talk." 
     "Why did you tell me all this?" Scully asked.  "What do you
get out of this?"
     "I have my reasons.  And besides, I've come to have a
certain respect for you and Agent Mulder."
     A wave of pain and exhaustion swept over her and Scully let
herself sink back into her chair.  The Smoking Man started to
leave, but her words stopped him.
     "Who are you?" she asked.
     He turned and looked at her.  He smiled and the expression
seemed out of place on his face.  "Think of me as your guardian
angel," he said, and he left.  



     Mulder was on the steps of Scully's building, watching
federal agents and technicians flow past him, into Scully's
apartment.  Bright yellow crime scene tape had been erected,
fencing off the entire building from the street and despite the
rain, which continued to pour down, a crowd of curious neighbours
had gathered on the sidewalk, talking quietly and staring at the
building.  The lights from several police cars strobed silently,
bathing the onlookers, the lawn and the whole block with
intermittent flashes of stark light.
     Mulder ran his hand through his hair, and fought the urge to
scream at somebody.  He desperately wanted to be doing something,
anything, but there was nothing to be done, except wait for the
experts to do their jobs, document the scene and hopefully turn
up some clue which might help them locate Scully.  
     He walked to the edge of the steps and looked up at the
clouds.  The sky was grey and bleak, and there were no stars.  He
rubbed his chin, and wondered if she was still alive.  Bile rose
in his stomach and he had to take a deep breath to steady
himself.  He couldn't start thinking like that.  He had to
concentrate on finding her.
     A movement across the street caught his eye -- there was
something familiar in it.  He peered through the rain and the
darkness, shielding his eyes against the flickering police
lights.  The figure was limping and moving unsteadily, but he
recognized the stride and the defiant tilt of the chin.
     He flew down the steps, pushed past the uniformed officers
and ran across the street, stripping off his trenchcoat as he
went.  He descended on her, quickly wrapping his coat around her,
and then holding her at arm's length to look at her face.
     She was drenched and shivering.  There were dark bloodstains
on her sweatshirt and her hair was plastered to her head.  The
right side of her face was scraped and swollen and a bruise was
ripening around her eye, which was half-shut.  She looked
disoriented and she swayed a little on her feet.
     "Scully?" Mulder said to her, as he steadied her.  "Scully,
are you all right?"
     Her eyes searched out his face and she grabbed his arm. 
"Mulder, they're destroying all the evidence," she said.  "We've
got to take Dr. Hamilton into custody.  She's the only one who
can prove any of this now."
     "They already got to her," he said.  "They burned the cabin,
Scully.  She's dead."
     He felt her sag.  She looked around, rain pouring down her
face and then her eyes met Mulder's again.  "We've got nothing,"
she said.  "We can't prove a thing."
     Mulder pushed wet bangs back from her eyes and gently cupped
her face in his hands.  He looked at her face, as if he was
memorizing it, then said, "It doesn't matter, Scully."
     She tried to summon up a protest, fought to find the
strength to object, but instead found herself teetering on the
brink of tears.  Her shoulders slumped.
     Mulder pulled the coat around her more tightly.  "Come on. 
We need to get you to the hospital," he said.
     She nodded, numbly.
     He wanted to scoop her up in his arms and carry her to his
car, but knew that she wouldn't allow it.   He settled for
wrapping his arm around her and leading her across the street,
towards her building.  She leaned against him as they walked,
until he was supporting her.  Mulder thought about what he'd just
told her, and realized, to his surprise, that at that moment,
nothing else did matter. 

               
EPILOGUE
FIELD REPORT
submitted to Assistant Director Walter S. Skinner
Special Agent Dana Scully
April 4, 1995


     "...Both Agent Mulder's apartment and my own were searched,
ostensibly to locate and remove any evidence pertaining to our
investigation of the retrovirus project.  The hard drives on our
computers were destroyed, and the computer of Dr. Elizabeth
Przednowek, a virologist at Georgetown University, was stolen
from her office...
     "...Two bodies were recovered from the site where Agent
Mulder met with Dr. Leslie Hamilton.  Dental records were used to
positively identify one body as that of Dr. Hamilton, but the
other body, a male, 30-35 years of age, is as yet, unidentified. 
Autopsies of the bodies revealed little, owing to the fact that
the human remains had been mostly destroyed by the fire...
     "...The investigation into the death of Dr. Joseph Costanza,
of Phoenix, Arizona, also believed to have been involved in the
retrovirus project, is now closed, and his death has been ruled
an accident...
     "...The body of Peter O'Hara, a journalist with the
Washington Post was found on the morning of March 27, in an
alley.  He had been shot three times at close range.  An autopsy
showed elevated amounts of cocaine and alcohol in his blood.  A
known drug trafficker pleaded guilty to his murder and several
other unrelated charges, and is currently involved in
negotiations for a plea bargain with the District Attorney..."


     Scully sat, staring blankly at the computer screen, the
cursor blinking impatiently, waiting for her to finish.  She
didn't hear Mulder open the door to their office, didn't notice
him standing in the doorway, watching her.
     Blue light from the computer screen washed over her face,
but didn't disguise what remained of her black eye, or the
puffiness around her cheekbone.  Mulder wanted to wince whenever
he looked at her, and he still felt some unexplainable guilt
every time she rubbed her hand over the pain in her forehead. 
The headaches seemed better this week though and he was relieved. 
He wondered what she wasn't telling him.
     "You look like you could use a break," he said, as he walked
across the office to her desk.
     She looked at him as if he had just materialized in front of
her.  "I'm sorry, what did you say?" she asked.
     "You've been working at that all morning," he said.  He
pushed some files aside and perched on the edge of her desk. 
"Maybe it's time for a break."
     She slipped off her glasses and rubbed her eyes, then let
her head rest against the back of the chair.
     "Having a hard time with the report?" he asked.
     She stared at the ceiling for a while before she answered. 
"I'm having a hard time believing just how big this is."  She
lifted her head to look at him.  "Mulder, they managed to make
everything disappear.  Everything.  Evidence, medical files,
bodies.  Just gone.  And there's nothing we can do."  She frowned
and fiddled with the arms on her glasses.  
     "What?" Mulder prompted.
     "I'm just wondering what they'll do next time we get too
close," she said.
     Mulder's eyes were clear and intense, but his voice was
soft.  "I don't know what they'll do," he said, "but I know what
we'll be doing."
     She raised an eyebrow.  "What?"
     "Watching each other's backs," he said.
     She looked at him for a moment and then her expression
softened.  She nodded.
     "So," Mulder said, as he slid off her desk, "got any plans
for lunch?"
     "No. Why?"
     "I was thinking we could go out.  Someplace nice, you know,
with tablecloths and real cutlery and everything."
     He'd been hovering over her like this since he'd met her on
the sidewalk in the rain, over a week ago.  But somehow, this
time, she didn't mind as much as she usually did.
     "So, what do you say, Scully?" he asked.  He was already
holding the door open for her.  
     She smiled.  "You buying?" 
     "Why not?"
     She saved the file she was working on and turned off her
computer.  The report could wait until after lunch.  She grabbed
her suit jacket off the back of her chair.  As she passed him in
the doorway, Mulder noticed that her eyes were sea-blue again. 
He smiled.

**********************************

     I hope this helps to fill the void until September 22nd and
the season premiere.  I would really love to hear people's
comments and I am e-mail accessible at:  

75271.3116@compuserve.com