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[fic] Case X-1743: Unresolved, Part II (2a/2) X-Men/X-Files; Mulder, Scully, Scott, Jean

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  • Minisinoo Girl
    First, to those of you whom I owe email ... I ll answer as soon as I can. I m working away from home at the moment. :-) CASE X-1784: Uresolved Part II,
    Message 1 of 1 , Jun 9, 2001
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      First, to those of you whom I owe email ... I'll
      answer as soon as I can. I'm working away from home
      at the moment. :-)

      CASE X-1784: Uresolved
      Part II, Washington, DC, 2005
      Minisinoo
      http://www.geocities.com/minisinoo/x1743b.html


      X-Files / X-Men Movie Crossover

      See initial Notes please, but a few additions....
      X-Men fans, I couldn't resist a few puns and obscure
      references, including the �very big truck.' And
      although we didn't see it in the film, I've assumed
      here that there is more than one way down to the
      infirmary in the X-Mansion sub-basement, and Jean
      would not take Scully in through the hall that opens
      on Cerebro and the X-Men uniforms, etc. Agent Craig
      Downer was mentioned in the X-Men: The Movie
      novelization; John Doggett, of course, was not.
      -------------

      FLOOR OF THE US SENATE, Washingtton, DC, Spring, 2005
      ---

      A theater-sized screen slid closed silently behind the
      speaker, a pretty woman in a fire-engine red suit and
      hair that glowed soft auburn under the high, bright
      lights. She concluded her presentation:

      *'. . . . We are seeing the beginnings of another
      stage of human evolution. These mutations manifest at
      puberty and are often triggered by periods of
      heightened emotional stress.'*

      *'Thank you, Ms. Grey. It was . . . quite
      educational. However, it fails to address the larger
      issue, which is the focus of this hearing. Three
      words: Are mutants dangerous?'*

      *'I'm afraid that's unfair question, Senator Kelly.
      After all, the wrong person behind the wheel of a car
      can be dangerous.'*

      *'Well, we do license people to drive.'*

      *'Yes, but not to live. It is a fact that mutants who
      have come forward and revealed themselves publicly
      have been met with fear, hostility, even violence. It
      is because of that ever-present hostility that I am
      urging the Senate to vote against Mutant Registration.
      To force mutants to expose themselves. . . . .'*

      *'Expose themselves? What is it that the mutant
      community has to hide, I wonder, that makes them so
      afraid to identify themselves?'*

      *'I didn't say they were hiding.'*

      *'Well let me show you what is being hidden, Ms. Grey
      . . . . '*

      Mulder sighed and got up off the couch �- his old
      black leather couch, which he'd insisted on bringing
      to their new home along with his fish. Scully hadn't
      quibbled. Much. "He's eating her alive," he muttered
      to his wife, as he passed behind Scully's chair to get
      cold pizza out of the fridge. Married three years and
      he still hadn't changed his eating habits.

      Seeing the pizza box, Billy chanted, "Pizza, pizza,
      pizza!" from where he was playing with a wooden Brilo
      train set in the rec room.

      "He's definitely your son, Mulder," Scully said
      without looking up from the paperwork she was doing at
      the kitchen table.

      "Was there any doubt?"

      Scully just grinned. These days, it was a joke.
      Once, it had been anything but.

      "And," Scully went on, "I think Dr. Grey is doing
      quite well, considering."

      "Considering what? That Kelly is a jackass?"

      "That, among other things. Her position may be
      reasonable and perfectly scientific" �- high praise
      from Scully �- "but it's hardly popular. People are
      easily frightened, Mulder. As we both know."

      Sighing, Mulder got out two slices of Little Caesar's
      Italian sausage for himself and one for his son,
      heated them in the microwave and brought them into the
      rec room where the television had been set up. The
      nice couch was in the living room. *His* couch was in
      the rec room. He never spent time in the living room
      anyway. "Pizza," he said, and set down Billy's plate
      beside him, along with a tippy cup full of "green
      juice" -� that is, Tropicana kiwi/white grape flavor.
      How the kid drank that stuff escaped Mulder. It
      looked vile. But he'd long ago concluded that child
      taste buds were a true X-File.

      "Mulder!" Scully said from the kitchen table. "Did
      you get napkins?"

      "Yes, ma'am." And, in a stage whisper to Billy, "Be
      careful or Mom'll skin us both."

      Billy just blinked up at Mulder, then took plate,
      tippy cup and paper towel and -� with exaggerated care
      -� brought them in to the coffee table so he could
      join his father on the big black leather couch.
      Watching him, Mulder wondered idly if their miracle
      baby would turn out to have this mutant X-gene. And
      if he did? It wouldn't matter to Mulder, but it
      wasn't something he'd wish on anyone, especially his
      own child, in the current socio-political climate.
      There were always reasonable people, but fear made a
      ready weapon for the hate-mongers. Given the peculiar
      circumstances of Billy's conception and birth, Mulder
      had no idea what to expect as his son aged. Already,
      the boy showed signs of advanced talents -� better
      than average fine-motor skills for a four-year-old,
      especially a boy; better than average verbal skills,
      especially for a boy. But neither Mulder nor Scully
      were average, so why should it surprise if their son
      was exceptional, as well? Who needed mutant genes for
      that? Or alien DNA, for that matter.

      He returned his attention to the television. The
      Senate hearings had fast devolved into a rhetoric
      platform for Senator Robert Kelly. Dr. Grey had been
      silenced, and stood, frustrated, on the speaker's
      bema, the podium. She couldn't get a word in
      edge-wise. There was much shouting from the floor.
      "Jack-ass," Mulder whispered under his breath, then,
      louder, "You just know that jerk is going to run for
      president."

      "Probably," Scully replied from the kitchen table, but
      her voice held no interest in pursuing it.

      Mulder crossed his arms and sulked in front of the
      television. Kelly annoyed him, and he needed a good
      argument to release the tension. Scully wasn't giving
      him one, and Billy was too young. Mulder sighed
      loudly and flipped the channel, listened to Cokie
      Roberts analyze first Dr. Grey's points, then Senator
      Kelly's points. She was perceptive as always, but it
      still bored him because he didn't get to participate.
      He flipped to another channel. It showed Dr. Grey
      leaving the platform, disgust written all over her
      fine features as she exited into the hallway.
      Outside, she was assaulted by reporters but turned her
      head down and pushed through. There was a young man
      waiting to help her keep the reporters at bay. A
      pretty boy with model looks and a pair of stylish
      red-mirrored sunglasses. Seemed odd for a genetics
      researcher to have a bodyguard dressed in GQ-casual.

      Abruptly Mulder sat up while his brain did one of its
      famed abstract tap-dances across the synapses of his
      memory. He knew that face, dammit. He knew that
      face. Not Grey's. The man's.

      *From where did he know that face?*

      It hit him full on just a few moments later when the
      good doctor and her companion were met outside at
      their limousine by a balding man in a wheelchair.

      "Oh, my God . . . ." Mulder said. Then, "*Scully!*"





      "You want what?" said the gravelly voice on the other
      end of the phone line.

      Mulder switched his cell phone from one shoulder to
      the other while he sorted laundry. "X-File number
      one-seven-four-three. There's a letter in it. I need
      that letter."

      "Mulder, you know that releasing material from a
      federal case file -� "

      "Shove it, John. The letter doesn't belong to the
      government. It belongs to Scott Summers. I put it
      there for safe-keeping."

      "Fine. But you wanna tell me why you're so sure a guy
      you saw for �- what, a minute? -� on C-SPAN this
      morning is the same kid who went missing nine years
      ago?"

      "It's the same kid. I'm sure of it."

      A heavy breath from John Doggett on the other end.
      "Okay. I'll release the letter. But I'm giving it to
      Dana."

      "Doggett -� "

      "Don't push me, Mulder. The letter goes to Agent
      Scully. You do this her way. You can't just go
      busting into these people's lives. If it's been nine
      years, don't you think he's contacted his family if he
      wanted to?"

      "Maybe. Maybe not. Consider the current climate for
      mutants. If he is a mutant �- and that'd explain a
      hell of a lot -� he might not want to have run the
      risk. Some kids are getting kicked out by their
      natural parents. He was a foster kid."

      "So what makes you think his foster parents would want
      to talk to him now, if he is a mutant? It was nine
      years ago, and as you said, some natural parents are
      rejecting their own kids. Myself, I don't get that,
      but I know it happens. Wouldn't it be cruel to set
      him up to get hurt?"

      "It's not going to happen. Trust me."

      "Mulder, it really worries me when you say that.
      'Trust me' is usually followed by some hare-brained
      stunt that gets somebody hurt or almost killed."

      "This isn't that kind of situation �- "

      "Maybe not. But I'm still giving the letter to Dana.
      She's the one with the badge."





      "Mulder, please relax. You're twitching like a
      long-tailed cat in a room full of rocking chairs."

      Mulder tried to glare at his wife but couldn't
      suppress a grin. After nine years, the hunt was back
      on and he stood the width of a single door from his
      quarry. He might not have the badge any more, but he
      could still feel the thrill. "Knock, Scully."

      She sighed and did so. There was a long pause. No
      doubt the people beyond weren't expecting visitors.
      They counted on hotel security and privacy acts to
      protect them from intrepid reporters. And normally,
      such things would. Scully's badge jumped a lot of
      hurdles.

      The door opened. It was Dr. Jean Grey looking a bit
      dazed, as if she'd just woken up from a nap. Her
      auburn hair was mussed in a tracery of fine webbing
      around her face. "Yes?" she asked, cautious. "How
      may I help you?"

      Scully flipped open her badge. "I'm Special Agent
      Dana Scully. This is my husband, and former partner,
      Fox Mulder. Could we have a few words with you, Dr.
      Grey?"

      Grey looked shaken, but opened the door to let them
      enter one of the more ritzy suits at the downtown
      Hyatt. Thick carpet and forest green curtains. Decor
      in tasteful wood. "Of course."

      Mulder grinned at her as he passed. She was a stately
      woman, pretty in a dignified way, mouth and eyebrows
      distinctive and well formed. Maybe a little
      stubbornness about the chin. "What is this about?"
      she asked as she closed the door.

      The best defense is a good offense. Mulder admired
      that. "We're here on some very old business," Mulder
      said. "A case from nine years ago, in fact."

      Grey had tipped her head sideways. "I can't imagine
      what that would be."

      Scully sighed grandly and elbowed Mulder. "Ignore
      him, please. Dr. Grey, this isn't an official
      investigation, and we haven't reopened the case.
      We've come only because we have some information that
      may be of interest to one of your associates. I also
      want to say � while I have the opportunity � that I
      found your presentation this morning quite
      fascinating. I'd love to talk to you some other time
      about your research."

      "Talk to me about it?" Grey was still wary.

      "I'm a medical examiner, and I've worked with some . .
      . unusual cases . . . for the Bureau. I'd love to
      discuss your research into mutant chromosomes and the
      possible ranges of mutant manifestations."

      "Ah." Grey was relaxing a little. Trust Scully to
      know how to put another woman scientist at ease �-
      compliment her research not her dress. Mulder
      grinned.

      "For seven years, my husband and I worked together in
      a section of the FBI called the X-Files," Scully
      continued. "We dealt primarily with cases concerning
      unexplained phenomena."

      "And you've come to talk to me about one of those
      cases? You think it might have involved a mutant?"

      Mulder's grin widened. "We're fairly sure it involved
      a mutant, but actually -� "

      "Mulder!" Scully snapped.

      He ignored her, " -� we've come to talk to the young
      man I saw you with outside the Senate house the
      morning. A guy in glasses? Kind of clean-cut? Is he
      here?"

      Grey's face blanched. "Scott? What do you want with
      Scott?"

      It took every ounce of Mulder's control not to crow in
      victory. After nine years, he'd finally tracked down
      Scott Summers. And right under his nose in
      Washington, too. Beside him, Scully hastened to
      assure Grey, "He's not in trouble, doctor. "But we
      think he may have been involved in an old case file,
      and my husband has some information for him."

      Grey sat down on the hotel suite's couch as an older
      man in a wheelchair motored out of one of the
      ante-rooms. "Agents, please," he said with a faint
      smile. "I'm afraid you're alarming Dr. Grey. Jean,
      they mean us no harm."

      Mulder narrowed his eyes at the man. "Who are you?"

      "Mulder!" Scully snapped again. She had a way of
      making him feel like an errant child at times.

      But the older man just came further into the room,
      joining the three of them by the couch. The faint
      smile had grown to one of genuine pleasure. "I'm very
      pleased to meet you at last, Mr. Mulder. Assistant
      Director Skinner has told me a great deal about you.
      My name is Charles Xavier, though most of my students
      call me Professor X. You've come looking for Scott
      Summers, I believe. You have a letter for him."

      "How do you know that?" Mulder snapped. Then, "You
      were in Omaha, nine years ago, weren't you?"

      "Indeed, I was. I apologize, Mr. Mulder, Dr. Scully.
      But at the time, it was imperative that I make contact
      with Scott without outside interference. He was . . .
      in a delicate frame of mind."

      "What did you do to me that evening?" Scully asked,
      frowning. Mulder knew that look and usually sought
      cover when it showed up.

      ""Absolutely nothing permanent, I assure you. It
      would be very much against my ethics. But I was born
      with certain gifts." Then, continuing in Mulder and
      Scully's heads, *Like Scott Summers, I, too, am a
      mutant.*

      "My God -� " Mulder muttered, unsure if he was more
      alarmed, or more delighted. After all, he'd been
      briefly telepathic himself, even if it had nearly
      fried his synapses. Whatever the case, he found
      himself grinning at full wattage.





      "So you were the one who had Skinner call us off the
      case and close it down."

      "Yes," said Xavier, "I am sorry but it was critical
      that the case be closed and left unresolved. There
      were entirely too many people interested in you at the
      time, Mr. Mulder. I had to deflect any attention from
      Scott. He was already being pursued by a man named
      Jack Winters, another mutant -� but one inclined to
      use his mutation for harm. He had read about Scott's
      mutation manifestation and was on the hunt to use him
      for his own criminal purposes."

      "You realize his foster parents were worried �- "

      "Scott writes to them once a month," Jean Grey
      interrupted. "They know he's fine."

      "So he doesn't need this." Mulder fished out
      Elizabeth Franklin's old letter -� a little yellowed
      now -� from his raincoat and held it up.

      "Ah, but he does, Mr. Mulder," Xavier said, smiling a
      bit enigmatically. That smile could start to get on a
      guy's nerves, Mulder decided, even as the letter
      lifted itself out of Mulder's fingers and floated
      across to the hand of Jean Grey.

      She was smiling, too. "My mutation."

      "I should have guessed," Mulder said. "Or guessed
      that you were all mutants, in any case."

      "Does that bother you?"

      "No," Scully said firmly from Mulder's side. She'd
      been keeping mostly silent, observing. "But if Scott
      keeps in touch with his family �- "

      " -� why would he need the letter?" Xavier completed
      her question. He glanced at Grey, who'd risen to take
      the letter over to her briefcase -� "Jean, a moment"
      �- then his eyes flicked back to Scully. "Because
      while he writes to them faithfully, he refuses to put
      a return address on the envelope. I think it time for
      Scott to quit running from his past." Mulder could
      see that Grey's back had stiffened. She clearly
      wasn't comfortable talking about Summers this way
      behind his back. From that, and a few other clues -�
      not to mention the diamond on her finger -� Mulder was
      fairly sure that Scott Summers was more to her than a
      sometimes bodyguard and fellow staff member at this
      private prep school that Xavier had told them about
      and which he directed. It was a subtle affection, but
      Mulder knew personally just how deep that kind could
      run. Grey would protect Summers by choosing the time
      and place to give him the letter.

      And Xavier was not going to let her get away with it.
      "Please bring that back, Jean. It's not yours to
      deliver. Mrs. Franklin entrusted it to Mr. Mulder,
      and I think he should be the one to give it to Scott."

      Grey spun around. "Professor �- " But she didn't go
      further. The two of them stared hard at one another a
      few minutes, and Mulder exchanged a glance with
      Scully. Was Xavier speaking to Grey telepathically?
      Mulder could see that Scully was wondering the same
      thing. Then again, maybe they didn't need telepathy.
      Maybe they simply knew one another very well �- the
      same way Mulder knew Scully.

      In any case, Grey's lips had gone thin in annoyance,
      but she brought the letter back to Mulder and handed
      it over without any display of mutant abilities. A
      mark of her reluctance to let go of it.

      "When will Mr. Summers be back?" Mulder asked as he
      took it.

      "He won't," Xavier said, and Mulder jerked his head
      up.

      "Scott went back to Westchester," Grey said, sitting
      down. "He drove to DC last night, so he could be with
      me this morning, but he can't leave the school for
      long and he went back right after we had lunch."

      Xavier had been resting elbows on the arms of his
      wheelchair, and now folded his hands in front of him.
      "Scott runs the school in my absence, you see �-
      although in truth, he runs it most of the time." He
      smiled faintly, a smile that Grey echoed more fully.
      "Forgive me, a slight private joke. Scott's
      organizational talents are famous �- or infamous,
      depending on whom you ask. But the school simply
      would not function without him. I am too often
      occupied with other matters, and he is effectively our
      headmaster even though my name is still on the school
      brochure. I should probably change that one of these
      days."

      "You should," Grey said and Mulder had the impression
      that she was using his and Scully's presence as covert
      cover to deliver an overdue nudge.

      "So," Mulder said, holding up the envelope and getting
      back around to the main point. "If you want me to
      deliver this, just how am I supposed to do so if he's
      not here?" But truth was, he wanted to deliver it,
      wanted finally to meet the elusive Scott Summers
      face-to-face.

      "By coming to Westchester, Mr. Mulder. Jean and I
      shall ourselves return tomorrow morning �- I fear that
      we have accomplished all here that we currently can.
      It would be my pleasure to show you both around
      Xavier's School for Gifted Youngsters, if you and
      Agent Scully would care to accompany us back to New
      York. Given your interests, I believe you would find
      it quite . . . educational. And," he added, glancing
      at Scully, "it would give Dr. Scully a chance to
      discuss research with Dr. Grey." He smiled warmly.
      "The two of them can cloister themselves in the
      basement with the microscopes while the rest of us
      enjoy the sun, tulips, and hyacinth in the garden."

      Mulder chuckled, because Scully and Grey had each
      turned beet red, and in both cases, it clashed with
      their hair.

      End part II 2a/2
      I'll post parts 2b and 2c as soon as I am able
      ---

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