Summary:  Terry Guss is the newest agent assigned to the X-files
division, where he will encounter whole new truths and mysteries,
and where the biggest enigma of all is the division's director,
Fox Mulder.

DISCLAIMER: The X-files, Mulder, Scully, Skinner, and anyone else
you've seen on the show that I've forgotten to mention are the
property of Chris Carter, 10-13, and FOX.  I'm borrowing them for
fun, no cash involved.  However, Guss, Pender, and the rest of
the X-files /team/ belong exclusively to ME,
(I'm not opposed to lending them out if anyone wants them for
some reason, but you gotta get my permission first). The story
too is mine mine mine, (c) 1997.

This is dedicated to my younger sister (who has yet
to be abducted; guess she got too old! :)  Thanx greatly,
Jeannine, for getting me hooked on this dang show, and for
encouraging this fanfic with elaborate threats!

Now (at last!) The Story:


                        Future Horizons


Special Agent Terry Guss took a deep breath and knocked on the
door of his new office.  His new assignment.  The beginning of a
whole new life, a whole new career.  A whole new existence.

He was telling himself not to be so dramatic when a baritone
voice called out from inside, "Enter of your own free will."

Forcing himself to relax, Guss pushed open the door.

Five heads looked up; five pairs of eyes locked onto him.  He
gave them all a cursory glance and picked out the pair he most
recognized, more from reputation than from actual encounters. 
"Agent Pender?"

The man straightened up from where he had been hunched over a
desk with the other four agents and strode over to the newcomer.
He stood at the same height, maybe even a little shorter, but he
gave the impression that he was towering over Guss.  "May I help
you?"

Guss stuck out his hand. "Agent Terry Guss--" he began.

"--newly assigned to the X-files," Pender completed the sentence
for him.

"Graduate of Pennsylvania State University, magna cum laud,"
picked up one of the two women, a tall brunette.

"Degrees in biology and chemistry, specializing in molecular
genetics," added the black man next to her.

"Entered the academy straight out of college," continued the
blond man on the other side of the desk they were gathered
around.

"And only graduated from that a year ago, making you the youngest
agent assigned here, lucky boy," concluded the small Asian woman
to the other's right.

Guss stared hard at each of them in turn and managed somehow to
keep his expression calm. "Seems you all have me at a bit of a
disadvantage."

"Seems so," Pender replied, countenance just as blank.  But Guss
thought he saw a few discreet smiles on the other faces.  "You
see, Guss, one thing that binds us all here is a desire to know. 
If you belong here, and I think you might, you'll understand what
we want to know."

"Everything," said Guss.  His reward was five sharp nods, one
from each of the other agents.  With that slim confidence, he
added, "I don't mind being called Terry."

Something that might have been a grin if it hadn't disappeared so
fast moved across Pender's face.  "I hope you don't mind being
called Guss, Guss."

"No..." Guss began.  He trailed off, looked around the office. 
Anywhere but at Pender, whose eyes were doing a good job of
boring through his skull.  

It was cluttered, only a step away from being called messy.  The
three desks were arranged haphazardly, so that they created a
virtual maze through the office.  The walls and desks both were
covered with papers, photographs, charts.  One of the
wastebaskets had a miniature basketball hoop, and one of the
desks was painted on the side with a florescent flying saucer.

Pender noticed the direction of his gaze.  "Gibbons' work," he
commented, gesturing with one hand in the direction of the brown-
haired woman.  She smiled at him, barely, and gave a little wave
in return.

"Not exactly bureau policy," Guss said slowly.  

He regretted it when they glared in return.  Not only because
their combined silent killing looks were more than a bit spooky,
but because he was already feeling as if he might be able to fit
here, and he didn't want to jeopardize his chances.

He was the fourth agent assigned to this section in the last six
months; the rest had all transferred out or been reassigned as
soon as possible.  Not a good record.  Not that the Bureau could
do much about it; the X-files was a necessary section.  If one
believed the media nowadays, it was the most vital section of the
entire FBI.  That didn't mean that it was large.  Or that it was
easy to get along with.  On the contrary, it seemed.  The agents
here understood their lofty position, and therefore knew that
they could do as they pleased and face less than severe
consequences.

But something didn't fit right.  All rumors had it that the X-
files section director was quite a taskmaster, a tough man to
work for or even to get along with.  So how did Pender and the
rest get away with everything?

Curiosity may have killed the cat, but it had gotten Terry Guss
this far at least. "Do you have any problems with our director? 
Over the painting or anything else?"

"Worried about your career's future?" Pender asked in return. 
They all were still watching him like hawks about to tear into a
rabbit.

"No," said Guss honestly.  "I like the painting.  I like this
office, personally.  Career or not, I have this urge to be an
individual and maybe I can actually be that here.  I'm just
wondering how you get away with it."

There was a long pause.  Then the others looked away, returned to
studying the papers on the desk together.  And Pender leaned over
to Guss and asked, in a low voice, not an explanation but another
question, "Do you believe in the existence of extraterrestrials?"

Guss paused, caught off guard by the non sequitur.  Pender's
expression was unreadable; behind the intensity in his blue eyes
lurked a hint of humor.  At least, Guss thought he saw it.  For
lack of a better response he took the question at face value. "I
believe that extraterrestrials have been proven to exist, Agent
Pender.  The Smithsonian still is displaying the Granite Ridge
wreckage, it's been there for three years now.  In fact, it was
the work of the X-files section that brought it into the open. 
Your work, actually--"

"Not mine," Pender corrected him.  "I was just baggage when we
cracked that conspiracy--so was Gibbons.  That honor goes all to
the boss--not that he'd take any credit."

Guss frowned. "Baggage?"

Again, the almost-smile flitted on and off Pender's face. "Don't
worry, Guss, we aren't for show.  Every agent here puts in about
ten times the effort as in the other sections.  We're a team.  
It's your choice whether you can join that team."

"What about the 'boss'?" asked Guss. "Is he part of it?"

"It wouldn't exist without him," said Pender seriously.

"The X-files would never have been opened if it wasn't for him,"
remarked Gibbons from behind him. 

"We wouldn't be here without him," asserted the black man next to
her.  Dubzinski, Guss found out later.

And then the door of the office opened.

Even if Guss hadn't heard it, he would have known someone had
entered by the way every agent straightened up.  They made no
effort to neaten papers or even adjust their ties, but Guss still
got the impression that they were suddenly all business.

"Agent Guss," said a voice from his side.  Guss turned to face
it.  Pender next to him was cooler than ever, yet his expression
was the closest it had come yet to truly smiling.

The eyes before him were level with Guss's own.  Very dark eyes,
and they didn't waver in their gaze.  There was nothing in the
face that was particularly noteworthy, except for its lack of
expression.  And the intensity burning in the eyes.  Somehow they
gave an impression of age, an impression heightened by the
respect the other agents projected now.  Yet Guss knew the
director was only around forty.  The lines on his face weren't
deep and the brown hair was only speckled with grey.

"Welcome to the X-files, Agent Guss," he said.

"Thank you, sir," Guss answered hurriedly.  He stuck out his hand
and was mildly surprised to have it taken, shaken firmly and then
dropped.  "I'm...I was glad to be assigned here."

"I requested you," said the director. "Only a certain type of
agent can work here, and we needed a new one.  I read your senior
thesis on radioactive mutation and possible human subtypes. 
Quite thorough and well written."

"Thank you," Guss said again.  "Some of my professors thought it
was a little...weird.  Too extreme."

"In this section, extreme hypotheses are an asset more than a
problem," he was told.

Pender surprised him by speaking. "As long as they're properly
supported."

If Guss hadn't been watching closely he would have missed the
quick look the director threw at Pender.  A mere shift of the
eyes to the other agent and then back to Guss.  It didn't seem
angry.  More like approving.  Then the director was speaking
again.  "Go with your ideas, but don't let them carry you away,"
he was saying. "You seemed to be able to do that in your writing. 
If you can apply that to your work, you'll fit in well here."

"And he's open to possibilities," said a voice Guss recognized as
Gibbons.

The director nodded.  "That might help.  Guss, you are as of this
moment part of the X-files section.  You'll be partnered with
Pender; he'll teach you what you need to know, assign you duties,
show you where we've hidden the pencil sharpener.  He'll report
on your progress to me; in a month if you want out or if we want
you out you'll get a chance to be re-assigned.  Until then, try
to keep up with everyone."  And with that he pushed past them and
went through the door on the opposite wall leading to his own
office.

Guss stared at the door as it closed, trying to process the last
few minutes.  His first meeting with the director of the X-files. 
A man he had heard about all through his time at the academy, the
brilliant agent who had broken open multiple conspiracies,
uncovered truths people didn't know existed and released them for
the world to view.  He hadn't been the only one at the academy
who had been interested in the director's work, but he was
probably the most obsessed.  And the director had not only read
but had liked his thesis!  

Pender reigned him in verbally. "Okay, you've met him.  I'm not
going to ask what you think, I can see it quite clearly in your
eyes."

"What do you mean?" Guss demanded.

Pender smirked, very slightly. "He tends to affect everyone
strongly.  Sometimes negatively.  Some people get a little edgy
when he stares them in the eye and talks in a monotone.  But you
were so impressed I doubt you even noticed that."

"It didn't seem important." Thinking back, he realized Pender was
right; the quiet, even tone had been perfectly level for every
word uttered.

Pender was also apparently gifted with the talent of reading
minds, or at least reading expressions. "None of you new ones
notice any oddities.  You've all been taught through the Academy
that he's brilliant, and important, and great."

Gibbons cut in. "Which he is."  Looking around, Guss saw that the
others were listening to them intently.  And occasionally
whispering comments to their fellow agents in voices too low to
be heard by Guss.

"Of course he is," Pender said suddenly.  "It's just a little
different from when I went through, and that wasn't so long ago."

"What's different?" Guss asked.

Pender actually laughed.  Or snorted at least.  "Guss, when I was
at the academy, so many years before--"

"Oh, yes, must have been an entire ten years ago," commented one
of the others, the Asian woman called Wong.

"When I was there, we also heard about the director.  And we did
hear that he was brilliant.  Also that he was a little cracked,
which wasn't too far off base.  But he wasn't great; he wasn't a
director, he was an agent who barely held onto his job.  And he
had a nickname, too, because he insisted on believing in what
everyone was sure wasn't there.  They called him Spooky Mulder
and they all thought he was crazy."

Guss blinked at him.  "The same Mulder?"

"The exact same.  A lot has happened since then." Pender looked
away, toward the wall.  Guss, following his line of sight, saw a
poster, half-covered by the papers and newspaper clippings
surrounding it.  A UFO, probably faked, flying over hills, and
underneath in plain block lettering "I WANT TO BELIEVE."  An
older poster.  Anyone who wanted to believe now could do so with
impunity.

Whatever revery Pender was in, he soon shook himself out of it.
"C'mon, we've work to do.  Burnett, surmise the situation for our
new acquaintance."

The blond man stood up from his chair. "It started out as a
possible abduction case, three disappearances in a small town in
one night at approximately the same time.  Several witnesses
swear to seeing bright lights at the time.  But Pender checked it
out, and he thinks we're dealing with a hoax--and the director
agrees.  So either we have a kidnapping or a practical joke, but
either way, someone's trying to perpetuate the alien myth. 
What's not helping matters is that a true abduction may have
occurred in the same place over three months prior, but was never
reported.  That's at least what we were currently discussing when
you came in, Guss.  There's three other cases in the works right
now."

"One at a time," Pender admonished him, "let's not scare off our
rookie immediately.  Shall we look at the evidence, partner?"

Apparently, however, "not scaring off the rookie" meant "do not
all talk at once."  Within half an hour Guss had heard all four
cases in detail, as well as listened to about ten times as many
theories involving causes.  Pender shot half of them down without
a second thought.  But Guss noted that the other agents didn't
necessarily agree with his judgement, though they respected it. 
Two of the wildest theories were vigorously defended by their
creators, and Pender eventually gave in to the verbal onslaught
both times. "Fine then.  Investigate it.  When you find the truth
don't hide it from me out of embarrassment for being wrong."

"I won't hide it; I'll shove the fact that I'm right into your
face," Dubzinski assured him.

The entire feel was an odd mix of informal professionalism.  Guss
had worked with agents who were devoted to their job, but few of
them exuded the passion that the X-files agents did.  To an
agent, they were dedicated to their work.  Not to their career;
Gibbons and Dubzinski, appropriately partners, both talked and
acted as if rules and policies were obstacles of which the point
was to avoid or break.  They'd probably start a private business
if--or rather when--they were fired.  Pender, on the other hand,
would most likely come to work daily even if he was handed a pink
slip and the office was turned into a darkroom.  No, it wasn't
their career that mattered to these people.

It was their work, their search, their relentless pursuit of the
truth.  The worst crime to any of them was a lie; the worst pain
they could feel was that of ignorance.  Guss discovered soon
enough that keeping quiet was not a great deal more acceptable
than outright falsehood.  Listening to Pender systematically
destroy one theory, he opened his mouth to speak, then decided
against it.

Pender noticed it and broke off mid-sentence. "You were about to
say something, Guss?"

"No sir, nothing really."

"Sir?" Pender stared at him hard.  "Excuse me?"

Guss noticed all the others discreetly turning away to examine
the floor, ceiling, or dust bunnies under the desks.  "I didn't
really have any idea.  Just a dumb thought."

"Please elucidate.  And remember I'm not a sir to you--we're
equal in rank."

"Pender, it was idiotic."

"We like that here.  Guss, I doubt anything you can say could top
some stories I've heard in this room.  And some of those stories
in the end have turned out to be the truth.  Even if it's dumb,
even if it's hopelessly stupid and completely inaccurate, it
might give one of us an idea.  In here, we're all listening
close, we won't laugh, and we want to hear whatever you have to
say.  The one rule we have is that any ideas you have are the
property and right of the team--and we treat them all as such."

"Which doesn't mean that if you're right, you can't boast about
it all you want for weeks afterwards," added Dubzinski.  So Guss
said his theory, they discussed it, ripped it apart, and finally
threw it away.  

There were other rules, or traditions, or habits, that Guss soon
learned.  Such as the X-files lunch-break, which he got a taste
of the first day.

Before they all left around noon in search of a meal, Pender
knocked on the door, the door leading to the other office.  He
opened it before there was any acknowledgement from inside. "Sir? 
What would you like for lunch?"

"I'm not hungry," came the reply. "Take care of your own meals."

Pender closed the door, then frowned at the others.  Guss saw
similar expressions on all the agents' faces.  "What do you bet
that he hasn't eaten all morning?" Pender asked.

"I'll buy a BigMac or something; if we shove it into his mouth he
should swallow it," Gibbons offered.

Pender nodded.  "Do it."

"Is this common?" Guss asked in an undertone. "Sounds like you've
done this before."

Pender groaned quietly. "Like, every day.  If it wasn't for us
he'd probably have starved to death by now."

"Doubt it," Dubzinski commented.  "He probably doesn't need to
eat.  Not like he does anything else human."

"No eating," Gibbons agreed, "No sleeping."

"No emotions," Burnett said flatly.  

Guss saw the other agents nod their heads in silent agreement.
"What do you mean, exactly?"

Pender sighed. "I've been with him the longest.  We were partners
before he became director, I've seen him in all kinds of tight
spaces.  He doesn't get scared.  He doesn't get angry, and if
he's ever nervous it sure doesn't show."

"He doesn't laugh, he doesn't cry," Gibbons recited.  "And if he
smiles it's probably in the dark when no one can see.  Hey, you
know, we could probably turn this into a song--"

"Yeah, the Spooky-Spock melody," Dubzinski muttered.  Then he
shook his head. "I'm sorry.  I didn't mean that.  It's just--he
really does give me the creeps, sometimes.  Seriously, is he
human?  Pender, have you ever seen any sign?"

Pender glared at him. "Watch it," Gibbons warned. "Lee, we know
he's your friend, I'd like to think we're all his friends--"

"He's odd," Pender said flatly.  

"There's more to it than that," Wong murmured.

And suddenly they were all looking at Guss again.  He was
suddenly very conscious that he was still something of an
outsider.  Yet he had the feeling that everything they had said
had been for his benefit.  Like they were warning him.  The boss
is weird, we all know it, if you can't handle it then leave.

                              *              *             *

Guss confronted Pender with this at the end of third day, when
the other agents were leaving.  He marched over to his partner's
desk (now his desk too, he supposed) and said in a low voice,
"Can I ask something?"

"Go right ahead," Pender said, equally softly.

"What is with our 'boss'?"

Pender raised his eyebrows.  "Well, you certainly are curious,
aren't you?"

"You made it very clear from the start that something's up with
him.  And that you know what it is.  If I'm working here I think
I need to know."

"You're right.  Precisely correct."

After a pause Guss pressed, "Well? What's the secret?"

Pender waved as Gibbons, the last agent remaining, left the
office for home.  Then he turned and eyed his partner. "The
secret is mine to know and yours to find out."

"Excuse me? What happened to the team, Pender?  We tell each
other everything?"

"And you're part of that team after three days?"

Guss looked away.  "I thought I was," he mumbled.

He was surprised when Pender patted him on the shoulder.  "I
think you might be too, Guss.  What little I've seen I like. 
This question of yours, it's an initiation rite, sort of. 
Everyone asks it eventually.  And it's the one question everyone
learns the answer to on their own.  Consider it an unofficial--
but not informal--assignment.  Find out what the deal is with our
wayward commander, and you're part of the team.  If you still
want to be."

"What if what I find is different from what you know?"

Pender smiled.  "That would be wonderful, frankly.  Every piece
of the puzzle will be much appreciated--particularly new ones." 
He turned to his computer. "Guss, before you begin, there's a few
details you should know.  Most of what you find will be
classified.  For various reasons, mostly because Mulder's gotten
tangled with so many conspiracies, cover-ups, and covert
operations that he probably should be dead.  So keep quiet about
what you learn, and try not to get caught learning it."

Guss nodded slowly.  The only reason he wasn't entirely shocked
was because he had heard such things for three days.  His own
partner, telling him to seek out data that the government had
declared out of his reach.  No wonder this section lost agents--
most members of the Bureau were not fond of law-breaking.  But
Pender and the rest believed that the truth was more important
than the law, and Guss agreed with them. "Alright.  So I just try
to dig up whatever I can, carefully?  On my own time, I take it?"

"Yes," Pender affirmed.  "But before you start, I have a clue for
you.  The same clue I got, five years ago.  Guss, five years ago
most of what would help you was purged.  Either classified or
deleted.  Like I said, some of the story is tangled up with
things the government would like to keep quiet and hidden.  I
found something that they missed.  I stored it.  Then I deleted
it, so no one would ever know I had found it.  So now the only
copy of this is in my possession--and the only people that know
about it are in the X-files section.  Where they're smart enough
not to tell."

"What is it?" Guss asked, half-expecting Pender not to answer.

But he did. "A tape.  That's all.  I never even made a
transcript.  It's a voice record from about six years ago, when
the X-files were just a little heap of cases, barely a real
section."  He reached into his desk drawer, pulled out an
unlabelled cassette tape.  "You have a tape player at home,
right?  This doesn't fit in a CD player."

Guss nodded.  "Recording CDs cost too much for me."

"Good.  Take it.  Listen to it.  Do /not/ make a copy, though. 
And return it to me in a week.  Got it?"

Again, Guss nodded.  "So that's it?"

"That's it." Pender stood up.  "I'll see you tomorrow."  Then he
went to the office door, knocked and opened it. "Good night,
sir."

"Good night, sir," Guss echoed.

"Good night, Guss, Pender," came the director's voice from
inside.

The two agents turned out the lights and left.  On the way to the
parking lot Guss asked, "When does he leave?  It's already seven
o'clock."

Pender shrugged. "Some people swear he doesn't.  He's got an
apartment.  And he goes there on weekends, at least.  Late. 
Always late."

"Why? What does he do in there?"

"Well, he's got another exit.  We don't see him go out for
meetings and the like.  And he's on the computer a lot.  He has a
network of people who feed him information.  He's very good at
piecing things together for them.  And us."

"He just stays in there all the time surfing the Web?"

Pender smiled very slightly.  "Not when we're out on cases; he
joins us sometimes.  Randomly; I've had him meet me in California
without mentioning it previously that he had a ticket.  Because
he heard of something interesting in the case I was on.  And then
other times..."

Guss was learning fast.  Every time Pender trailed off, it was
because of something odd.  Something most likely to do with the
big mystery surrounding the head of the X-files.  "What?"

"He's disappeared more than once."

"Disappeared?"

"Happened several times when he was my partner.  He just wouldn't
be at work, no explanation given.  Sometimes for a week.  Then
he'd just come back and pick up like he'd never been gone.  I got
pretty pissed, because I'd be left covering his ass.  But no
matter how much I complained, he never got punished.  And he
wouldn't tell me a damn thing."  Pender's expression showed only
the faintest hint of remembered annoyance.  "He appeared in the
hospital a couple of times.  Came to work with a broken leg and
second degree burns on his face once or twice.  I stopped asking
around then.  I wasn't sure I wanted to know.  It doesn't happen
so much anymore.  Last time was oh, maybe five months ago.  For
six days.  And I still haven't figured out exactly what he does. 
The only pattern I know is that when there's a large number of
sightings, or when lots of possible abductions occur at one time,
it's best to keep an eye on the boss--and be prepared to cover
when he's gone."

With that, Pender bade his new partner good-bye and drove off,
leaving Guss to return home and mull over the events of the last
few days.  And to listen to the only clue of his first
"assignment."

That was his first activity after microwaving dinner.  He popped
the tape in the player and listened to its entirety, which wasn't
that long.  He listened again while he ate, and then he played it
continuously before sleeping, trying to memorize it, and
understand it.

It was immediately obvious that it was a fragment of a larger
conversation.  The speakers, the location, and the circumstances
were left unidentified.  There were two voices only; a male,
which he recognized immediately as none other than section
director Mulder, and a female voice he had never heard.  She was
definitely not Gibbons or Wong, but what she said indicated that
she was an X-files agent.  Except the tape came from before the
time that the X-files were a full section...

"--think he's telling the truth?" The recording began mid-
sentence; the speaker was the woman.

"That's what the test shows.  Anyway, why would he lie?" The
answer was clearly the director's voice.

"He could have thought he was telling the truth.  Hallucinations. 
Confabulation."

"Look at his records.  No known drug-use.  And never diagnosed
with any sort of psychological disorder.  A fine, upstanding
citizen."

"Of fourteen years of age, Mulder."  The voice confirmed the
identity of the other...agent?  The way they spoke, they could
both be agents, working on an X-file.  "Maybe just an active
imagination."

Guss wondered if it was his imagination.  The voice that answered
was clearly Mulder's, but he heard anger in it.  Still even, but
harsher, somehow.  From a man who never displayed emotion? "His
imagination didn't make his brother disappear.  He saw
something."

Reconciliation was evident in the reply. "I don't deny that.  The
only question was what it was he actually saw." She hesitated for
a moment, then added, "Whatever it was, the important thing is
that we find him.  That's our main object.  We're looking for the
truth, but the most important search is for the boy."

There was a long pause.  Then Mulder spoke quietly. "If we don't
find the truth," he said, "we may never find that boy, either."
He took a breath deep enough that it was audible on the tape.
"And I need to find him."

"I know.  I know you do, Mulder," said the other voice.  There
was another pause, and then she spoke again.  Very softly, so
Guss had to turn up the volume nearly all the way to make out the
words.  "And you need to find Sam."

If Mulder had a response, it was lost to history.  The tape
fuzzed out entirely and Guss could not make out another word on
it for the fifteen minutes it took until it reached the end.

He marvelled for a few moments that Pender had been able to piece
together any sort of story from that small fragment.  Certainly
it raised plenty of questions, but it didn't offer the slightest
hint of answering any of them.  Who was Sam?  Who was the woman
who talked to Mulder like a colleague, or even a friend?  And
what was the case they were on?

Guss started the real search the next day.  He first went to
Pender, who only smiled a tiny, smug smile and didn't say a word
when Guss asked his questions.  Obviously he was on his own.

He first checked past cases, closed X-files.  And he discovered
quite quickly that there were gaps.  Large gaps.  Cases that had
been stamped closed and then incinerated, it seemed, leaving only
vague references in shadowy computer directories.  Other cases
had been censored; parts were there, sections were gone.

There were a few names that turned up several times.  One name he
couldn't track; it was as if all information concerning her had
been deleted.  No birth or death certificate, no records of
marriage, moving, bank accounts--nothing.  The person might have
never existed, except that she was referenced in several x-files.
Sometimes as the pathologist of an autopsy, sometimes as the
author of the final report closing a case.  Only a name, nothing
more.

Another name appeared a couple of times, and Guss had a much
easier time tracking that one.  No agent would have had much
difficulty.  It was a little harder to arrange an appointment
with the man, but he managed.

Guss couldn't help but be a little nervous when the time for the
interview came.  A conference with the Director--not the director
of the X-files section, but the Director of the entire Bureau. 
It was somewhat intimidating.

And Director Skinner himself looked just as intimidating as his
position.  Guss wondered if he had made a mistake to come.  What
could he tell the Director, anyway?  "Hi, I'm here on unofficial
business because I'm nosy about my boss, and I've only worked
with him for six days now?"

Fortunately he didn't have to say anything. "Agent Guss.  Come
in," said Skinner as soon as the secretary announced him.  "Take
a seat.  Now, before you say anything, I'll tell you that I know
this is about your new assignment to the X-files."

"Yes sir," said Guss.  "At least, in a way--"

"I'm not finished, Agent Guss.  You're here to ask me about your
section director."

"Yes," Guss agreed, surprised. "How did you know, sir?"

Skinner's expression changed very slightly, to something
resembling resignation.  "You're the sixth agent to come to me
about that.  The rest are all part of the X-files section. 
Pender will be very pleased with you, if you've made it this far
in so little time.

"Before you ask me anything, I'll tell you now--I won't be able
to answer most of your questions.  Even if I know the answers,
most of them are classified.  I could do more than lose my job if
I told you everything I know."

"Does that mean you can't tell me who Dana Scully is?  Or what
relation the name Sam has to director Mulder?"

"Unfortunately," Skinner said with a sigh, "that's exactly what I
mean."

Guss regarded the Director thoughtfully.  It definitely sounded
as if he knew the answers he needed.  In fact, it sounded as if
he would like to tell them.  But that he wasn't going to.

So instead of pushing, Guss asked another question, one that had
been bothering him for the last few days, ever since his
assignment.  "Sir, why are the X-files agents allowed to do as
they please?"

Skinner's eyebrows shot up.  "Are you criticizing your section,
Agent Guss?"

"No sir," Guss said firmly.  "But I'm curious."

"As long as they X-files have been open, they've been unorthodox
in their methods.  That was a trend started by your director when
he worked alone, before the X-files were considered a complete
section.  I disapproved initially, but the truth is, they got
results."

Guss noted the "they" but said nothing.  He doubted he'd get an
answer.  He listened intently as Skinner continued, "For five
years now the X-files have been considered an important,
necessary section of the FBI.  They do what they like because
they know they're needed.  They know the rest of the Bureau can't
do without them.  I couldn't shut them down if I wanted to, but
frankly, I don't want to.  I've re-opened that section twice. 
Both times with opposition.  I'm content--it makes my job easier-
-to have it in its current, untouchable condition.  I like it
there."  He looked away momentarily.  "There was a time," he
said, in a quieter, more reflective voice, "that your director
would have liked it, too."

Guss cleared his throat. "Sir, may I ask another question?"

"Go ahead," Skinner nodded.

"Is it true that director Mulder sometimes...disappears?"

"It's true.  And before you ask it, I don't know where he goes
usually, though I try to find out.  Sometimes I've been able to
send people to pull him out of tight spots.  I can tell you this
much--he's been doing this for a long time.  And I don't
reprimand him any more.  It's not worth it.  I can't fire him;
the Bureau needs him.  I can't punish him; there's nothing I can
do that would change him in the slightest."

"Would you do it if you could?"

Skinner looked at him for a time, without saying anything.  Guss
was hard-pressed not to squirm under that gaze; it was almost as
penetrating as the X-files director's.  At last the Director
spoke. "No.  I wouldn't.  Is that all, Agent Guss?"

"Yes.  I guess, sir.  Thank you--thank you for answering what you
could, sir."  Guss stood, was about to open the door when Skinner
rapped out, "You forgot a question."

Guss turned back. "What?"

"You forgot to ask why I put up with you and your questions."

Guss hesitated, then decided that speaking his mind more couldn't
hurt much. "I think the question is why you put up with Pender
and his questions and the puzzles he gives agents."

"Very perceptive, Agent Guss.  Do you know the answer?"

"Not really, sir."  He added as an afterthought, "Can you give it
to me?"

Skinner frowned. "Not the full answer.  But I'll tell you
something that might mean nothing.  To you, at least.  When the
X-files were re-opened for the second time, over five years ago,
Agent Pender was assigned to them for the first time.  He was
assigned as partner to Agent Mulder, who had had four years
previous experience.  Agent Mulder didn't want a partner.  He got
one for two reasons.  The first was because Agent Pender had
asked for the assignment.  He wanted to work on the X-files.  I
still don't know exactly why.

"The reason I gave him the assignment, though, was not because of
his wishes.  It was because I didn't want Agent Mulder working
alone.  The Bureau needed Mulder on the X-files.  They wouldn't
let him resign.  But I wouldn't have done it if Pender hadn't
been put with them too."

"Why not?" Guss asked, when Skinner paused.

Skinner pinned him with a sharp look.  "Because," he said
clearly, "I didn't want Mulder alone every day, with a gun and a
pile of cases and nothing else.  Agent Pender understands this. 
And I know that he won't let anyone into the X-files who doesn't
also understand."

And that was the end of the interview.

Guss moved beyond the cases.  He examined past records,
certificates, anything with the name "Fox Mulder" on it.  There
was pitifully little.  Whatever leads he found he pursued,
through phone calls, e-mail, anything.

A week passed.  Another went by, and Guss found himself working
with the team, found himself becoming part of the team.  He knew
that he was a member of it when he called Pender at one o'clock
in the morning with a sudden insight into one of their current
cases.  Pender sounded asleep, then excited as he listened.  He
was not in the least annoyed.  The truth couldn't wait for any of
them to wake up.  They all knew that.  Guss was hardly surprised
when he came in early the next morning and found everyone
discussing his theory, already well-versed in it.  Apparently
Pender had called them all the moment he had heard.

The acceptance of his theory, on what the purpose of the faked
abductions was, was a triumph.  But Guss had an even larger
accomplishment in store.  He waited until the end of the day to
present it.  When the other agents left, he approached Pender's
desk.  

"Partner," he said, "I got the story."

Pender knew, with that instinctual, almost telepathic ability,
exactly what Guss meant.  He leaned back in his seat.  "I'm
listening," was all he said.

Guss didn't expect anything more.  He launched into the tale. 
"Okay, here's what I've found.  Agent Fox Mulder was an academy
boy-genius, an Oxford grad, majoring in psychology, with a talent
for profiling serial killers.  He should have sky-rocketed to the
head of the bureau except that somewhere during his career he
became fascinated with the X-files."

Pender was nodding slowly, with a bored expression clearly
plastered on his features.

"Yes," Guss addressed this, "I know this is all accessible
knowledge.  It was what I started with.  Anyhow, I figured out
pretty fast that the explanation probably lay in why he got
interested in the X-files.  It's taken me this long to piece out
why, but I think I have it.  

"When Fox Mulder was a boy, he was traumatized severely.  This
trauma lead to his obsession with the strange, the unexplainable,
and particularly with extraterrestrials--before he proved they
existed, when 'believer' was thought to equal 'screwball.'  This
trauma occurred when he was twelve, and it affected him enough
that he was hospitalized for it for several weeks.  And though it
doesn't say so in any records I could find, part of those weeks
were in a psychiatric ward."

Pender sat up abruptly. "Oh?" he said.  "If there are no records,
where is your proof?"

Guss suppressed a smug smile.  "I called around.  I found the
names of employees of various such institutions in Massachusetts,
where Director Mulder grew up.  I was playing a hunch, and I
found one talkative old lady who was a nurse some years ago.  She
had clear memories of 'a nice young boy named Fox.'  Who
apparently was catatonic at least part of the time due to stress. 
Now, there are no written or electronic records of any Fox
staying at the institute she worked at.  But it's a rare name,
and the boy she recalls was the same age our director would have
been at the time, thirty or so years ago."

Pender pursed his lips and whistled very softly.  "I admit it,
Guss, I'm impressed.  You've dug up another piece, and I thought
I'd found all the ones out there."

"It's not that big a thing."

"No," Pender agreed, "and I don't see that it means much of
anything, but the mere fact that you found something new says a
lot.  Like, that you're smarter than me, maybe.  Who knows who'll
be running this section in forty years?"

"Forty years?"

"Doubt the director will quit before then.  Go on," and he waved
at his partner to continue.  "Tell me about his trauma."

Guss pushed ahead with a certain eagerness.  He was positive
Pender knew everything that he was going to say.  But he was
elated that at least one fact, however minuscule, had been first
discovered by himself.  "The trauma," he said, "was the loss of
his younger sibling, Sam.  Who was, as far as I can tell,
completely erased from record some time ago.  I couldn't even
find out why.  Most of what I know is what little scraps I
gleaned from your tape, Pender.  In other words, nothing.  He had
a little brother named Sam who disappeared in an alien abduction. 
And the director's devoted his life to finding him.  Made it his
absolute obsession, his raison d'etre.  I got a little more, a
very little more, from some older agents.  But they tend to clam
up too.  Everyone does.  My story's incomplete, I know.  But I
searched everywhere, and I couldn't find the conclusion. If it
ever existed, it doesn't now, Pender."

"You may be right," Pender said slowly.  "It might not exist. 
But you aren't going to make director, I'm afraid.  I still have
quite an advantage of knowledge over you."

Out of the blue Guss was furious.  He managed to keep his voice
level with an act of will strong enough that the words shook--
which defeated the purpose.  At least he wasn't shouting.  Yet. 
"I searched every record I could find.  There's a huge hole, and
it swallowed up just about everything that could help me.  There
is no hard knowledge, no computer files, they've all been erased,
deleted, burned.  I found evidence of that at least.  Now the
only place that information exists now, as far as I can tell, is
in the minds of the X-files team.  And that's one place I can't
access.  I'd like to.  I want to be part of the team.  Not just
to know their secrets...though that's part of it.  But I have no
way of letting myself in.  It's hopeless."

"Nothing's hopeless," Pender said, before Guss could go on.  "And
you're already in.  You were in when you told me the story, as
far as you could go with it.  

"And because you're one of us, because you /need/ access to our
secrets the way all of us /need/ the truth, I'll give you
everything you don't know.  Everything the team knows, at least."

Guss couldn't help but stare at him.  "You will?" he whispered,
only vaguely aware of how idiotically grateful he sounded.

Pender said nothing of this, only nodded sharply.  "I'll begin by
telling you that you were wrong about certain details."

"Which details?" Guss demanded.

Pender, in what Guss had learned by now was his fashion, answered
the question with another.  "What is the name of the only proven
abductee?  One who knew details about the universe before any
scientists did, who swore even under hypnosis that she had spent
decades travelling through it, visiting planets our telescopes
are only just discovering, right where she said they'd be?"

He was only asking for the name of one of the most well-known
people on the planet.  Not exactly a tricky question. "One of the
few factors that have convinced people at last that life is out
there?  Pender, that's hardly a Trivial Pursuit question.  More
like a test for brain-damage."

"Just say her name, Guss."

"Samantha Miller."

"Bzzz--incorrect, agent.  That's her name now.  The earliest
articles, if you'd bothered to search for hard copies, call her
'Samantha /Muller/.'"

"And?" Guss tried to make sense of this.  Pender watched him,
then gave up.  "Think, Guss.  I thought you were bright.  They
changed the name.  They could have changed it originally...they
did change it originally.  And altered it again because they
decided even the first change was too small.  They covered up her
true identity."

And Guss got it all.  In one blinding flash he understood.  "To
Miller from Muller from /Mulder/."

"Not a little brother.  A little sister.  Sam wasn't Samuel; Sam
was..."

Guss's head was whirling.  He tried to make it add up but it
wouldn't. "But...but Samantha was ancient!" he cried.

"/Quiet/!" Pender ordered, his low tone brooking no
contradictions.  His gaze shifted to the door of the inner office
and back again.  "There's sound-proofing, but don't risk it.  He
hasn't gone home yet."

"Samantha," Guss said, keeping his voice quiet, "was over a
hundred.  She died of old age!  She couldn't possibly have been
the younger sister of the director!"

Pender was shaking his head slowly.  "Don't believe all you're
told.  Never accept facts at face value.  Samantha /Mulder/
*appeared* to be around one hundred and ten.  But I was
interested in such things when she first showed up, and I did
some research through the FBI that most people couldn't
duplicate.  I found out some things that were covered up so deep
that if they knew I knew them, I probably would be dead.  

"And lots of that information is interviews and examinations of
Samantha Mulder.  One such fact--she insisted, repeatedly, that
she had been gone for less than a decade.  And that at the time
of her abduction she was under ten years old.  

"Now, she didn't remember the exact abduction.  She lost time,
not the few minutes or hours some abductees report, but
apparently almost a year.  Then...she says that it was them, the
extraterrestrials, the aliens, that were responsible for the
rest.  They aged her.  They needed her as an adult so they made
her one.  And something went wrong with their treatments; they
meant to make her in her prime, but she didn't stop aging, until
she died of it.  

"That's what she said.  Maybe she was fooled, you could say. 
Delusional, thought she was a young girl.  Or she lost a lot more
time than she knew.  But she never showed signs of schizophrenia. 
That's one reason her whole story is believed by the majority. 
And...

"The doctors' reports--there were plenty of tests performed on
her--the reports are fascinating.  For instance, she seemed to
age some five years physically in the six months between her
'return' and her death.  Also, her age was deeply in question. 
Certain physical signs, obvious ones, put her over one hundred.

"But when they did the autopsy (and this was some of the hardest
data to find), analysis of bone marrow, growth, other factors--
she was only twenty according to the deeper tests.  And if that's
not complicated enough...at her death, Samantha Mulder was, by
her birth certificate, thirty-three years old."

Guss felt like a fish; his mouth seemed to be locked into a
permanent "O" shape.  At last he regained control of his tongue,
if not his vocal cords.  His voice was a hoarse whisper. 
"But...but /how/?  I don't...I can't see how all that's possible. 
She can't, she couldn't be the director's sister.  Not if there's
all that conflict...it's too fantastic!"

"If she isn't," Pender said, "then there are a few facts to be
explained.  One, why was a certain Fox Mulder involved with
almost every aspect of Samantha's life--he signed documents for
her, authorized tests, apparently blocked quite a few more tests,
and generally was with her more than any other person.  And two--
why did the X-files close less than a week after Samantha's
return?"

"They did?" Guss asked faintly.

"Check the records.  Second time they closed.  First time due to
outside-Bureau forces...second time, Agent Mulder shut them down
personally.  And they weren't re-opened until after she died. 
Guss, does that make any sense?  Go back.  Look at the records. 
Some of them at least are obvious.  There are sixty X-files from
the exact time of Samantha's appearance.  It didn't come without
a price, apparently.  Something along the lines of five dozen
people vanished when she appeared.  And they've never re-
appeared."

Guss found an anchor.  "None of them?"

"Not one."

"Can't be."

Pender, instead of replying, turned to his computer and typed so
fast Guss could barely follow it.  The files from that time
appeared.  All were flagged yellow--still open, though not
currently under investigation.

Guss looked the directory over.  "There's only thirty-eight here. 
You said sixty."

Pender folded his arms across his chest.  "At one time there were
sixty.  When I joined the X-files officially, it had been cut
down to those.  The others had vanished.  Swept under the rug."

"Any theories on that?" They might be getting off track.  Guss
couldn't tell.  By this point he had lost the thread of the
conversation and was only picking up random facts.  

"Most of these files have a common trait.  The people in them had
a 'history' of claiming they were abductees.  None were taken
seriously.  None of them had ever been reported missing.  But
that doesn't make them liars.

"I think the others had a similar history, with one difference. 
They had gone missing.  They had disappeared for a time, and it
was proven."

"So they were all double abductees?" Guss said slowly.

Pender nodded.  "Almost definitely.  And here's another fact. 
All those missing files, I saw them once, before they were
erased.  And I remember a couple of the names.  Guss, those names
don't exist anymore.  No records remain of their births or their
deaths or marriages or bank accounts or anything.  They're gone. 
All erased."

"Why?"

"Want my theory?" Pender asked.  "Or do you want time to process
everything and come up with your own?"  He didn't need to wait
for Guss to answer that.  "The government erased those files. 
Nothing else could have done it so thoroughly.  And it explains
why those cases were classified and /then/ wiped.  Why so much is
classified.

"Guss, the government sanctioned human tests.  I have no proof. 
I have no proof of anything.  Everything I've found has been
erased or destroyed somehow.  I keep quiet so the same thing
doesn't happen to me.  But I know the truth.  The government
tested people.  Abducted people.  And then..."

Guss felt his brain come alive, sluggishly.  "They were abducted
for real.  By aliens.  But why?  How?"

"I don't know." Pender shook his head.  "I don't know.  But it
explains it all.  It even explains why Samantha lost a year.  A
year erased, not by little grey men, but by her own people.  The
EBEs let her keep her memories.  Humans didn't."

Guss had been sitting on the edge of the desk.  Now he slid down
to the floor and crouched there for a long time.  It was dark
outside.  Lights blocked the stars that he should be able to see
out the window.  Human lights blocked the extraterrestrial ones. 
Human crimes blocked any alien ones.

No wonder the director was the way he was.  He must know all
this.  The entire X-files team must know.  How... Guss cleared
his throat.  "How come...how come you all aren't like him?  If
you know all this, and can't do anything..."

"We do what we can," Pender's voice came to him quietly.  "It
wasn't truth, or knowledge, that made the director who he is."

Childhood trauma.  It had seemed so plausible.  Even more so now,
he guessed.  That on top of knowing this.  Or underneath it.  It
was the director's devotion to his cause that had lead to these
discoveries, Guss was sure.  "He knows it all, doesn't he?"

"Mulder?" Pender says.  "Yeah.  Of course.  He knows more than I
do.  It wasn't that knowledge that makes him who he is.  I told
you.  It was...I can't be sure.  I say I am but I'm not.  All I
have is theories.  About everything.  No proven truths, just
plausible knowledge."

"It was..." Guss murmured.  "It was losing Samantha again. 
Wasn't it?  Having her return, and then losing her..."

"Grief can do strange things to one's soul," Pender said.  "I
think that's what it was.  That's the only explanation I can come
up with.  And yet..."

"There are loose ends," Guss remarked.

"Lots of them," his partner agreed.

Guss tried to remember what they were.  Only one small thing came
into his head. "Like why Samantha was physically only twenty when
she should have been thirty."

Pender laughed.  At least that's what Guss thought the dry wheeze
was.  "That's one thing Gibbons figured out.  She thinks. 
Science fiction to me, but so were aliens, five years ago.  She
says that relativity, scooting around the galaxy at light speed,
slowed down Samantha's clock.  Which the aliens sped up as it
was.  It's that whole Einstein theory with the twins--a twin in a
spaceship, and one on earth--"

"The one in the ship, moving at near-light velocities, will come
back much younger."  Guss nodded.  "I understand."

"Good," said Pender shortly. "I don't."

Guss couldn't summon up the energy to explain.  "What...what
other loose ends are there?" he asked instead.

"The biggest," Pender answered, tapping his fingers together, "is
where he goes when he vanishes.  Where he goes, and why."

Guss mulled this over.  "There's something else, too," he said
suddenly.  "The tape you gave me--the woman speaking with the
director..."

"Yes?" Pender said sharply.

"I identified her as Dana Scully.  She's listed in several older
X-files, closed ones.  She was his partner, a while ago.  I
think."

"You're right," Pender verified.

"What happened to her?"

"Gone." Pender spread his hands wide.  Open, empty. "Vanished.  I
can't prove it, but I think she's one of the missing files.  The
lost abductions."

"Could..." Guss hadn't thought of this before, but maybe...
"Could he be looking for her?"

"Maybe." Pender's shrug indicated it was unlikely.  "After five
years, though?"

"He kept looking for his sister, you said."

"You said it to me, I believe."

"We both said." Guss frowned.  "If I'm part of the team, does it
matter?"

"No," Pender stated plainly.  "But your new hypothesis doesn't
hold.  I didn't know either of them.  But I was working here
during their partnership, and from what I heard, they didn't
always get along.  Apparently she was a scientist, a logical sort
who didn't hold with any of his wild theories.  And rumors had it
that she was on the X-files to de-bunk it--that was why they were
shut down at first, because she had reported all sorts of non-
policy procedures.  Then when they were re-opened, she was kept
on them as punishment for failing to keep them closed."

Guss sighed, not happy to have his theory shot down so quickly. 
"Well, was she pretty?  Maybe they had some sort of non-career-
related relationship..."

Pender snorted. "As I heard it Dana Scully wasn't anywhere near
ugly, or even plain, but she also was plenty career-centered. 
Enough that she wouldn't risk her job on an affair with a
partner. "

"Particularly with a partner she didn't like," Guss agreed.  "If
not her, though, then who?  Because I bet it's someone."

Pender nodded. "Maybe.  Could be anyone, though probably one of
the abductees.  I suspect the only way to find out would be to
ask our director directly..."

"I'm not going to," Guss said immediately.

"Nor I," Pender responded.  "For different reasons, maybe.  But I
won't ask.  It's personal."

Guss regarded his partner narrowly.  "That didn't stop you
finding the rest of the stuff."

"The rest," Pender explained, "didn't require me asking him
questions to his face."

"Pender," Guss said slowly, "do you know something that I don't?"

Pender gazed at him innocently. "At this point, you know what the
team knows.  Welcome aboard."

"Thank you," Guss said, almost automatically.  He noted to
himself that Pender had side-stepped the question.  He also knew
that asking directly was not the way to find the answer, that
Pender would simply dodge in another direction.  And he knew that
he was tired.  Drained, even.  Everything he had heard was
pressing on his mind, his heart.  

Pender of course noticed.  "You're tired, Guss," he said quietly. 
"Go home, get some sleep.  Think over everything you've heard. 
It'll seem brighter at dawn, I guarantee it.  Oh, and about that
theory you worked out today?  Concerning the false abductions?"

"Yes?"

"Keep with it.  It sounds likely to me."

Guss recalled it with effort.  His idea was that they were in
truth kidnap victims, maybe of some mob ring, maybe something
even darker, and that the families that had received ransom
demands were keeping quiet out of fear for their lost ones.  That
it was darker was indicated by the levels of subterfuge they were
keeping up, faking abductions.

After what he had heard from Pender, about what the government
had done to its own citizens, his theory felt more accurate than
ever.

Pender watched Guss leave.  His partner was definitely in need of
a good night's sleep.  As a matter of fact, so was Pender, but he
could live on only a few hours without difficulty.  And his
naivete hadn't just been crushed.  Guss would build up a healthy
little wall of cynicism, and then he'd be okay.  Pender had seen
just about every X-files agent go through this.  Part of the
process of joining the team, the baptismal rites of passage.

He had gone through something similar himself, only it hadn't
been as easy for him.  There hadn't been any support from inside. 
His innocence had been shattered before even joining the X-files;
he supposed the scarring from Carol's death when they were both
teens was one of the things that had drawn him to Fox Mulder. 
Finding his pain in the other man, only magnified.

The X-files had interested him from the moment he heard of them,
of course.  Pender had always had a fascination with the
unnatural, the paranormal.  He wasn't a believer; he didn't buy
most of it.  But he was interested in it.  If he had lived in the
last century he would have been one of those guys who went around
de-bunking soothsayers and seances, hoping to find the real thing
but always expecting a fake.

But when the X-files were re-opened, it wasn't the paranormal
that drew him so much as the opportunity to work with "Spooky"
Mulder.  Supposedly one of the most brilliant agents on the FBI. 
A genius crack-pot, who had been proved to be not so cracked as
everyone had thought.  In fact, he had suddenly been elevated to
the status of Hero, the revealer of the deep secrets of the
universe.  One of several who proved We Are Not Alone.

It didn't mean everyone was clamoring to work with him, though.

Pender had met Fox Mulder only once before when he had requested
the assignment.  He had seen him multiple times, passed him in
the halls, but had only talked to him once.  And he doubted that
Mulder even remembered.

                       *              *             *

It was at least three, maybe four years before Pender joined the
X-files, during the time of their first closure.  He was the new
guy, the latest in a series of bright, green agents learning
their way around the halls of the J. Edgar Hoover Building. 
Maybe a little more determined than most to do his part, but they
all were usually raring to go.

It was around noon.  Half the agents in the building, or so it
seemed, were gathered around in the halls, loitering, about to go
on their lunch breaks.  Pender was chatting with several of his
new friends, also young agents, all discussing their ambitions.

The door of Skinner's office opened.  At the time he was only an
Assistant Director; still, there was a slight lull, as everyone
straightened up a bit, lowered their voices, in general tried to
act like respectable, busy agents.  More or less.

And then the conversations simply came to a halt.  Or at least
dropped into whispers.  Pender and his companions all turned to
see what the event was.

A man was leaving the office.  It wasn't AD Skinner.  A younger
man, an agent.  Pender recognized him from reputation if nothing
else: "Spooky" Fox Mulder.

But it wasn't for that reputation that everyone had gone quiet. 
It was for his expression.  For the way he looked.  Everyone had
been telling Pender that Mulder was a little bit crazy,
particularly since the X-files had been shut down; but Pender had
yet to meet a completely sane agent.  Now, looking at him, he
understood what they were talking about.  And "a little bit" had
been underrating it.

Mulder looked like he hadn't shaved in about two days.  His suit
looked fresh, but still, something about it screamed "unkempt;"
like he had just thrown it on.  His hair was a mess.  But that
wasn't what stood out.

What caught the other agents, what made them stop in their
tracks, was his face, his expression, his eyes.  Too thin, too
pale, unhealthy, and his eyes burned very dark.  He looked sick,
like he had some deathly fever, actually.  

Pender was close enough to see his look clearly, and what he saw
there was worse than illness.  Rage, fear, and grief were all
over-written by an emptiness that burned cold like dry ice.   The
sort of consuming emptiness that turns people into hollow shells.

Pender recognized the look.  He had seen it in the mirror several
years ago.   The abyss, looking into you when you look into it. 
It had taken the combined efforts of his family and his closest
friends to pull him away from it.  How many different times had
he come /this/ close to joining Carol?  Too many, much too many. 
He was grateful that was over now, that he still grieved, but
memories of her made him smile, too.  

But this man...  Even the people who didn't understand exactly
what they were seeing saw it.  Pender heard whispers around him,
low enough that the agent now making his way slowly down the hall
didn't hear.  "What happened--?" 

There was worry in the whispers the answered.  Not only because
there was something terrible in his visage, like he was a real
spook, a haunting soul, not a living person.  Worry because,
though they may not personally like Spooky, he was one of their
own.  And the news they spoke of was part of that unity, too.  It
shook them all.  "She was taken." "Scully's kidnapped."
"Abducted." "His partner's missing." "Agent Scully's been lost."

Maybe one phrase reached the other's ear.  Maybe he just reached
some unseen barrier.

Whatever it was, he stumbled then, caught himself on the wall and
leaned against it, eyes closed.

Pender couldn't stand by and do nothing.  It wasn't in himself to
merely watch as others took falls he himself had experienced.  He
stepped forward.  "Agent Mulder?"

The agent straightened up and looked at, or rather through,
Pender.  "I'm fine.  I'm just tired."

Pender looked closer and saw that bags under the eyes would be an
understatement in his case.  "How long has it been since you
slept?" he asked, worry mingled with curiosity.

The other agent blinked in his general direction with a small
frown.  The answer came fast enough, though. "Three nights."

Pender was good at arithmetic.  "96 hours?" He managed to contain
his next question, which would have been 'You're still standing?' 
Instead, he said, "You should get some sleep." He looked at the
other agents, standing there in the hall, watching them.  They
stared back, torn between their dislike of the agent in question
and a more general sympathy.  He read encouragement in their
faces.  They wouldn't help but they were glad he would.  Thanks a
lot, people. "Do you want some help home?"

"I'm fine," Mulder repeated, denying all physical evidence to the
contrary.  Paying more attention to the condition than to the
words, Pender found himself almost guiding the other agent down
the rest of the hall, all the way to the parking lot.  He didn't
offer any physical support and guessed that if he had it would
have been ignored.  Still, he would catch Mulder if he did happen
to topple over, as he appeared on the verge of doing.

When they got to the lot, he wondered if he should drive Mulder
to his house.  The other agent assured him that he could manage
on his own.  

Pender nodded uncertainly. "You're sure?"

He was told it wasn't far.  By a man who looked as if standing
straight up was a major effort.  Pender hoped he wouldn't get
pulled over for driving under the influence.  Of sleep-
deprivation, in this case.

And something worse.  That frightening pain, even clouded as it
was now, still burning in the eyes.  Pender wanted to say
something, address it some way.  But he didn't know how.  "I'm
sorry," he settled for saying.

Mulder looked at him bleakly.  "For what," he asked hoarsely. 
"Nothing anyone could do.  Except for me.  And I failed."  

Pender met his gaze steadily, but couldn't find a response.

"They gave me back the X-files," Mulder went on.  Rambling, from
exhaustion.  "Skinner opened them, for me.  Re-opened them.  Like
it could do something, like there's something to accomplish in
there.  If he had before this, maybe we would have been together
then, maybe I could have done something more..."

Pender knew that that guilt had to be ended.  He wasn't the one
to do it, but still, he had to try.  He said the only thing that
came into his mind.  "You will find her."

Mulder's expression knocked him back with the tangible feeling of
loss.  "But I never found her," he said, and then he climbed into
his car and drove away.

Pender didn't even see Mulder for a long time after that.  He
would have liked to.  He wanted to do something more; he also
wanted to know what the agent had meant by his cryptic last
statement.  But in a week he was assigned to a temporary position
in the Chicago branch, and he was so busy before that that he
didn't get a chance to drop into the basement offices.

By the time he returned to DC, there was no need for him to do
anything.  He asked one of his acquaintances what had ever
happened with Agent Scully's disappearance and got a blank look,
than a start.  "Oh, that!  Nearly forgot; it's been resolved for
over a month, you know."

"It has?"

"Yeah.  Thought you would have heard, you like that crazy stuff. 
Not like you're Spooky or anything, but--"

"Well, what happened?  Since I do like it?"

The other agent shrugged.  "Nothing big," he said.  "She came
back.  Returned by whoever, dropped in a hospital.  I heard for a
bit that she was dying, but she's been back at work for a month
now, still down in the basement, sadly.  So I guess it was just
rumor.  Have you heard about their latest case? Something to do
with graverobbers, I hear..."

Pender couldn't come up with any reason to descend into the
basement.  But he did see "Spooky" occasionally, though he never
spoke to him.  He was surprised by the change in the man, the one
long look he got.  Mulder was with his partner at lunch, and
Pender had happened to be at the same restaurant with a friend. 
They came in and his friend sighed.

"Look at that," the agent said.  "Spooky & the Mrs.  It's such a
pity she's always down below."

Pender turned his head a bit, looked surreptitiously at the
partners.  "Guess she's not bad," he admitted.  "Are
they...involved?"  

His friend snorted into his coffee. "Not from everything I've
heard.  Except that they're /always/ together, it seems.  Can't
date a woman who's tied at the waist to another man...even if
they aren't actually 'involved' as you say."

Pender watched them.  His friend was right; they didn't seem to
be involved.  No kissing or hugging or hand-holding or physical
contact at all.  But they talked throughout lunch.  They had
papers with them, so Pender assumed at least part of their
discussion concerned a case.  However, it must have strayed at
least a few times to judge by the way they smiled and laughed. 
Both of them.  Pender would almost have said that the agent he
had helped to his car some months ago was incapable of laughter,
but here he was, smirking at something his partner was saying.

Mulder abruptly looked up and straight at him; Pender ducked his
head.  When he dared peak back he was met with two pairs of eyes,
Mulder and Scully together staring directly at him.  He looked
away hastily, glad that he didn't blush easily.  Suspects must go
through hell being interrogated by those two, he decided.  Her
look could freeze nitrogen and his look...Well, it was healthier
than it had been.  A balance of curiosity and annoyance.  None of
the fury or loss Pender had seen before, though he thought he saw
something dark, grieving, deep inside.  But veiled, and not
overwhelming.

By this time he was well on his way to figuring out what that
something was.  Pender's curiosity as well as his compassion had
been peaked by his first encounter with Fox Mulder, and at least
part of his stay in Chicago had been devoted to appeasing that
curiosity.  His mild interest in the paranormal had already
pointed the way to the X-files, and he had delved deeper now.

Samantha was only a name to him then, but by the time she was
actually returned Pender knew the entire story.  Knew it well
enough that he knew that telling it might have dire consequences. 
So he kept quiet, and tried not to appear too understanding when
the X-files were closed and Fox Mulder took an extended leave
from the Bureau.  Even though the halls buzzed with questions--
"/Quitting/? Spooky's gone and left us?"--Pender made no attempt
to answer, and asked a few of his own for camouflage.

For a time Dana Scully's disappearance was linked with her
partner's leaving.  It took nearly a month before those questions
started up--"Where did Agent Scully go?  I thought she quit with
Spooky!  No? Maybe she was abducted again"--that was a joke. 
Very few people knew how accurate it was.

Pender of course was one of them.  He saw the file, opened by Fox
Mulder with all the others.  But not many people were accustomed
to examining the X-files, and they noticed nothing when half the
new cases, unexamined since the X-files were closed, simply
dropped off the face of the earth.  Along with the names of the
people in them and the people themselves.

It started to be passed along the grapevine that the X-files were
to be re-opened.  Pender acted quickly; he went straight to the
former supervisor.  "Assistant Director Skinner, I would like to
request assignment to the X-files."

Skinner looked at him through his wire-frame glasses.  "That
division has been closed."

"Scuttlebutt has it that it's about to be re-opened, sir.  With
all the new findings about Identified flying objects..."

"Rumor is not always correct, Agent Pender."

But it was, in this case.  Not for a few months.  Pender was
about to start a private campaign for re-opening when two things
happened simultaneously: Samantha Miller passed away, and rumor
solidified into hard fact; the X-files were to be investigated
once more.  Pender visited Skinner a second time.

"Agent Pender," said Skinner, "Are you aware that Special Agent
Fox Mulder is the chosen agent for those cases?"

"Yes, sir," Pender replied.  "I believe he doesn't have a partner
now, sir."

Skinner's gaze flickered away and back briefly.  Pender thought
he saw an expression of sorrow in the AD's eyes, which was fast
replaced by his more ordinary stern look.  "If you were assigned
to the X-files, you would be the junior partner under Agent
Mulder."

"I am aware of that, sir.  Would that be a problem?"

"Possibly." Skinner regarded the agent thoughtfully.  "I am aware
that Agent Mulder has something of a reputation around the
Bureau, Agent Pender.  I assume you've heard the stories."  He
waited for Pender's nod before continuing. "I am warning you, not
slandering him, when I tell you that most of what you've heard is
probably accurate.  He is a brilliant agent, that is undeniable. 
But he can be a difficult man to work with.  Particularly now."

"Why would that be, sir?" Pender asked innocently.  He thought he
knew.  He was almost positive he knew, in fact.  But he wondered
if the AD was aware of the reasons, and also if he would tell
them to another agent who had no relations to Mulder.

"Agent Mulder," Skinner explained, "has specifically requested no
partner or other agents.  He wishes to pursue the cases his own
way.  I know from experience that although Mulder's methods are
unorthodox, they get the job done.  I was considering letting him
have his way."

Pender grabbed onto his wording.  "Considering, sir?  So you
haven't decided?"  He didn't need to wait for Skinner's reply. 
"Sir, I am more than willing to work under Agent Mulder, and to
follow his lead on everything.  I realize I'm less experienced
than him, and not as good an agent.  I'd willingly work under
him, not with him, from everything I've heard about him."

Skinner looked unconvinced.  Pender considered his options and
decided to take a chance.  "Sir, I'm asking to be assigned to the
X-files.  I'm not asking to be made Agent Mulder's partner.  I
think that may be too big a job for me, to be his full partner. 
Junior partner perhaps.  But full..?"  He paused again, then
finally said, "I understand that Agent Mulder doesn't want
another partner."

He said the last sentence quietly, clearly but low-voiced.  A
slight accent on the 'another' to verify to Skinner that he knew
of the first partner.  I'm not out to replace /her/, sir.  But
maybe help in my own small way.

He could tell that Skinner understood, by the cool manner in
which he was regarded.  Then the AD looked at his desk.  "Your
request has been accepted, Agent Pender.  In one week you'll be
partnered to Agent Mulder and can begin work on the X-files."  He
glanced up at Pender again.  "You will be dealing with cases of a
rather unusual nature.  I've seen your records.  You are a good
agent, and you've dealt with some pretty tricky matters.  I think
you can handle the X-files.  I just hope you understand what
you've gotten yourself into."

"I do, sir," was all Pender said.  He knew that the AD wasn't
talking about the case files.  And he saw that Skinner understood
his response fully.

In a week he was down in the basement, actually meeting Agent Fox
Mulder for the first time.  A real meeting, in which both parties
gave each other's names out and shook hands to seal the bargain.

Pender could tell right off that Mulder was far from happy to
have a partner.  Even a self-described junior partner.  He wasn't
exactly rude, but he was cool as hell and far from talkative.  He
also spoke over Pender multiple times--like every instance Pender
tried to say a word about himself.  After a phrase Mulder would
finish the sentence for him, making it completely clear that he
knew Pender's entire history already and was not particularly
interested in hearing it again.

Mulder never mentioned Carol.  Pender didn't know if it was
because he himself never quite mentioned the name or if his so-
called partner (Pender early on started thinking of him as a
superior) didn't know that passage from Pender's life story.  He
suspected the former.

Mulder also never mentioned Dana Scully.  Pender didn't bring up
the topic himself.  It wasn't one spoken of anywhere, actually. 
Hush-up.  Pender knew it had to be.  Everyone who had known her
had been warned.  She didn't exist anymore, according to most
certificates.  Except for a few references in the X-files.

And in Mulder's memories.  Even if he never mentioned her aloud. 
Pender saw that, clear as glass.  Clear as Mulder's eyes, with
their dark pain.  Clear as his icy expression, which never
changed.

He cracked jokes sometimes.  Random sarcastic comments, some
amusing, some more biting.  He never smiled at them, though
Pender might.  Pender remembered hearing him laugh at the
restaurant those few years ago but most of the time couldn't
quite make himself believe that that had been the same man as his
current partner.  

He wasn't the same man whom Pender had seen stumble out of
Skinner's office, either.  Somehow he was even darker than that. 
More focused, and with none of the weakness that man had shown. 
None of the vulnerabilities.

They stopped calling him "Spooky" around the Bureau.  Mulder had
gone beyond that now; he wasn't a laughingstock.  He wasn't a
nutcase anymore, he had been proven right, and now the nation
depended on him to find more truths, an encore performance. 
Pender wondered if he was even aware of his own worth.  He wasn't
impressed by it, certainly.

Pender found it ironic that the nickname had been dropped.  Maybe
because now it was a little too appropriate.  Mulder wasn't
merely spooky.  He was downright frightening sometimes.

Like the way he figured things out.  That frightened Pender.  Not
terribly, not in a skin-crawling horror-inducing sort of way. 
But still, it was shocking, the way he read a case.  Then re-read
it.  And sometimes he would sit totally still for an hour,
staring at a picture in it or a paragraph or rifling through some
research book, and then scribble something down and practically
flee from the room.  Often enough Pender would have to literally
run to keep up with him.  Or mentally race, trying to deduce what
Mulder had already figured out because his /partner/ refused to
tell him /anything/.

Pender ended up in Skinner's office about a month later.  He was
called in because of some detail or another on their last report. 
Which Pender had written with practically no explanation because
he had none to give; he didn't even know what the conclusion was,
only that the most likely suspect had been apprehended.

Skinner asked him a question, Pender tried to respond civilly,
then ended up exploding.  "Dammit, it's not my fault, I don't
know, I'm a goddamn chauffeur, not an FBI agent!"

The assistant director's stare would have felled a charging
elephant.  Pender dropped more than sat back into his chair. 
"Sorry, I'm sorry sir," he choked out.

"Agent Pender," said Skinner quietly, "please calm yourself, and
then explain what you meant exactly by that."

Pender took three very deep breaths and concentrated on the
neutral carpet.  At last he looked up.  "I'm sorry, sir," he said
carefully.  "I didn't mean to shout.  I think I'm a little
stressed, sir."

"Apparently."  Pender was surprised to see a very slight hint of
amusement on the AD's face.  "At least you only verbally decked
me.  Now, if you would explain this stress to me."

"Sir." Agent Pender rubbed his face.  "You did warn me.  I just
wasn't quite as well prepared as I had thought.  It's my partner,
sir.  As I think you've guessed."  Skinner's grim look verified
this.  "I'm not requesting a transfer.  I want to work in the X-
files still.  But...Agent Mulder can be...difficult to work with. 
He is definitely good at what he does, but he won't let me do a
damn thing.  Except drive us places.  And that's only when he has
something to work on, or else he drives and I move fast to make
sure I'm in the car when he takes off."

"What do you want me to do?" Skinner asked.

"Sir, I sort of doubt you can do anything."

"You may underestimate me somewhat, Agent Pender.  I've known
Mulder for five years now.  I have some influence with him."

Pender put his head in his hands. "I don't know what to do.  Tell
him I'm on his side!  That's what I want him to understand!  Tell
him he can trust me! But I have this feeling that that will take
some convincing."

Skinner sighed. "At least you understand some of what's going on. 
I can talk to him.  I don't know how much good it will do.  I do
understand that you don't want a transfer, though?"

Pender shook his head quickly. "No, sir.  I want to stay with the
X-files.  I even want to stay with Mulder as my partner.  I just
want him to accept me /as/ his partner."  He hesitated. "May I
ask a question, sir?"

The AD's sigh was more pronounced than before. "Yes, agent."

"Who the hell is Krycek?"

Skinner stood up and pinned him with a glare. "Where did you hear
that name?"

"From Mulder.  Muttered in my general direction multiple times. 
Never aloud.  Took me a while to figure out what he was saying,
and I was only guessing it was a name."

Skinner rubbed the bridge of his nose. "He's been calling you
that?  Dammit."  Frowning more than ever he studied Pender.
"Alright, I'll talk with your partner.  I might be able to help
some.  If I can convince him that you aren't Krycek re-incarnated
you might have a better chance."

"Sir, who /was/ Kry--"

"Don't ask, Agent Pender.  Just understand that you are /not/ him
and be glad of that fact.  Or I'd be kicking you out through the
window right about now."

Pender wondered how the AD could be so sure that he wasn't like
Krycek.  He also figured out that he was probably never going to
learn who Krycek actually was; he had already tried every
possible spelling of the name in every database in the FBI and
had drawn a total blank.  He had wondered if Krycek was another
of the "missing" abductees (such that he called them in his mind;
so far he had never mentioned them aloud to anyone, not even to
Mulder).  Judging from Skinner's reaction, probably not...though
the AD and probably Mulder would have been perfectly content if
he was.

Whoever Krycek was, and whatever Skinner said to Mulder, there
was a definite improvement in the working relationship of the X-
files agents.  Mulder actually would speak to his junior partner,
actually started telling him at least a portion of his theories. 
He began to give Pender tasks to do on his own while Mulder
pursued other avenues of investigation.  And eventually he would
actually listen when Pender pointed out a flaw in reasoning...or
even came up with an independent theory.

Six months went by, and Pender went from being an ostracized
agent to a partner in the X-files division.  Not exactly a full-
fledged partner, of course.  Mulder was still definitely senior
to him.  But Pender had an important role, and if he wasn't as
well-known as his partner, he had the satisfaction of knowing
that some cases were solved because of him.  And that he had
somehow become, if not best friends, at least more than casual
acquaintances with Fox Mulder.

Some of that stemmed from concerns very much like the one which
had first lead him to Mulder.  From the beginning, Pender found
that it was almost entirely his responsibility to see that his
partner ate and went home at least once in a while.  He soon got
in the habit of buying a lunch and practically forcing it onto
his partner; Mulder always paid him back, usually with a tip, so
Pender lived with being a waiter.  Going home was another idea
that never seemed to enter Mulder's mind.  Pender usually
suggested it rather forcefully every Friday, or else Mulder would
simply stay in the office the whole weekend.  At least Pender
thought that might happen.  He had visions of coming in Monday
morning and learning that his partner had starved to death while
working on a case, locked in the basement.

He didn't even mention sleep; he didn't have an MD and therefore
couldn't prescribe the drugs he imagined were required to
actually get Mulder to lie down.  Let alone sleep.

It was six months after the X-files were re-opened when Pender
came in to find his partner sitting at his desk.  Simply sitting. 
Not looking at a case, just staring ahead.

Not into space, as Pender first thought.  Staring at the desk
calendar.  Apparently he had ripped off the sheet from the day
before and then froze; yesterday's date was still in his hands.

"Mulder?" Pender said cautiously. "Are you alright? Are you
there?"

"I'm here."  His voice was very low, hoarse.  A whisper.  And he
looked away from the calendar, but not up at Pender.  His eyes
dropped to the desktop, and he swallowed, not loudly, but the
room was totally quiet and Pender heard.

Pender wanted to ask what was wrong, but not outright.  Not just
a straight question; he wanted to know what it was without
asking, he /should/ know what it was without asking.  He thought
quickly.  The date.  What was it about the date...Yesterday, he
recalled.  Yesterday, alien enthusiasts holding parties,
celebrations.  The date Samantha Miller fell from the sky.  So
today...

He didn't have to ask.  Mulder answered the question unknowingly. 
"A year," he whispered.  "A year and she hasn't come back.  She's
not going to come back and I can't find her and I need her..."
Pender didn't strain to hear, he shouldn't have been able to but
somehow he caught all the almost inaudible words all the same.

And he didn't look closely, but somehow he still saw the shimmer
of water around Mulder's half-closed eyes.  And he didn't really
know what to do, but he had to do something.

Mulder was called into Assistant Director Skinner's office later
that day.  Skinner frowned, decidedly displeased when Pender
entered instead.  "Agent Pender, I need to speak with your
partner, not you."

"I'm sorry, sir," Pender said smoothly.  "He's not here now."

"Where is he?" Skinner demanded.

"At home."  Pender had called to check on this.  He actually was
there.   Wonder of wonders.

"Why is he there?  Is he sick?  I wasn't told he was absent when
I asked to see him."

"He's not officially gone, sir," Pender said.

Skinner regarded Pender suspiciously.  "Agent Pender," he said,
"Stop avoiding my questions.  Why is your partner at his
apartment instead of at his desk like he's supposed to be?"

"Because," Pender decided it wasn't safe to avoid anymore, "I
told him to go home."

"You /told/ him to.  Why in hell did he listen to you?"

"Because," Pender explained, "I told him it was your order."

Skinner's eyes bored into him.  In a patient tone he said, "So,
Agent Pender, I am to understand that you dismissed your senior
partner from work by lying and invoking an assistant director's
name."

"Yes, sir."

"You realize that this could be grounds for dismissal.  At the
very least there will be consequences, possible suspension of
duty without pay until this is cleared up."

Pender frankly thought that it sounded somewhat severe, but he
understood how seriously the chain of command was taken.  All he
replied was, "Yes, sir."

The AD adjusted his glasses, glaring at his agent behind their
lenses.  "Pender," he said, "why did you do this?"

Looking straight at Skinner, Pender told him, "Because of what
day it is."

Skinner glanced at his desk calendar and then back at Pender. 
The agent saw instant comprehension flare in his superior's eyes. 
All Skinner said aloud was, "I see, Agent Pender."  He took a
deep breath.  "Lee..."

Pender started.  Hearing his first name at the Bureau had become
a shock, ever since he started working in the X-files.

Skinner observed this reaction without a smile, but some
amusement glimmered in his eyes.  "Pender, I am hereby ordering
your senior partner to take today off for personal reasons. 
Please tell him he's relieved."

"Yes, sir!"

"And agent," Skinner added, "next time you make an 'executive
decision' please inform me of it.  As soon as you can.  It may
avoid problems in the future."

"Give us a chance to corroborate our stories?"  Pender didn't
even know where the thought came from; it just slipped out of his
mouth before he could censor it.

But the AD almost smiled.  Almost. "If I were you, agent, I would
be grateful that Agent Mulder didn't have a more pressing
appointment today, or you might have had some more explaining to
do."

"I would have worked out a better explanation in that case, sir,"
Pender said.  And knew that Skinner would understand--I don't
care who he had to see, I would have made him go anyway.  But I
wouldn't tell just anyone the truth about it.  Not unless I knew
that they'd understand.

The following day Mulder was back at his desk, and the agents
were back on the trail of a new case.  But the two weren't on it
for very long.  

Because their numbers were raised to three.  Pressure from a
variety of sources had convinced Skinner to add to the section. 
He sent several agents to Mulder and Pender, giving them the
authority to choose but making it clear that "none of them" was
not an option.  

Pender protested loudly; Mulder was not so verbal but Pender was
sure that his partner made his displeasure known to those who
counted.  All to no avail--Mulder's influence didn't reach quite
far enough.  It was quite clear that the X-files section was
over-extending itself, and therefore they needed assistance. 
Never mind that the section had been over-extended since long
before Pender joined it.  Before it didn't matter if the cases
went unsolved or even unopened; now it was imperative that as
many cases as possible were closed, what with all the attention
the public was giving them.

So they dealt with the new agents as best they could--doing their
damndest to scare them off.  Agent Gibbons proved to be the most
persistent by far, and with great reluctance she was officially
moved to the X-files.  

Pender gave up when she was added.  He didn't want her there, but
he also didn't want to put her through the same annoying
purgatory that he had experienced.  With some effort he included
her in what they did, at first finding it necessary to
"translate" Mulder's actions for her. She caught on quickly.  

It didn't hurt matters that she also believed, with almost the
same intensity if not with the same obsession that Mulder had. 
Aliens and government cover-ups; before Samantha became a house-
hold name she had been searching for evidence.  Samantha had been
a triumph, the confirmation of Gibbon's faith.  And Mulder had
been a personal hero--in the academy Gibbons had even earned the
name of "Little Miss Spooky" from certain rivals.  She took the
alias as a compliment rather than the intended insult.  

Her acceptance of Mulder and his theories helped a lot in his
eventual acceptance of her.  In a surprisingly small span of
time--little more than a month--the threesome were a team. 
Mulder had the duo role of team member and coach; it was to him
that the other two reported, but at the same time he worked
alongside them.  All three cased crime scenes, theorized, tracked
suspects and clues, and often charged in together for the kill. 

It was the beginning of the next stage of the X-files.  No longer
a partnership of two stuck down in the basement, but a section,
with an office on the second floor big enough for all three of
them to have desks.  And in the office, the team.

It didn't take very long for Gibbons to come to Pender with
questions.  By the end of the first week she cornered him after
hours.  "Okay, Pender.  What's the deal with our boss?"

Pender for once was floored.  "Huh?"

"Our fellow agent? Mulder?  The spooky one? You were partners
with him for half a year, surely you know something.  Like why
he's giving me the cold shoulder."

"He didn't want another agent.  He'll get over it."  Which of
course he did, but right then he had been rather silent to
Gibbons.

"I get the feeling that it goes a little deeper.  Like, why does
he occasionally get that look?"

"What look?" Pender inquired.

Gibbons eyed him.  "I don't know, maybe you haven't noticed it. 
I've only caught it twice and maybe it's a female thing--" 
Pender had heard Gibbons remark on this more than once; he didn't
see what exactly she found so attractive in Mulder but she
definitely saw something there and wasn't afraid to admit it, at
least not to /Pender/ "--but I swear it looked like the bottom
just fell out of his world.  This total lost expression.  Not
hangdog; just sad.  Very sad, we're talking far beyond
depression.  Most guys with looks like that end up with guns to
their heads...but he doesn't look like that all the time.  Only
when nobody's watching.

"And I think there's some reason for it.  And maybe you know what
it might be?" and she cocked her head curiously at Pender.

Pender said it sort of as a joke. "Maybe.  But I think it's
something you should find out on your own."

Except Gibbons didn't quite take it humorously.  She gave him
quite an odd look herself and dropped the topic.

And returned to it a week later, with a big smirk and no
questions.  Only answers.  She had found Samantha's secret; it
hadn't been fully covered up yet.  Being Gibbons, she had been
extraordinarily closed-mouth about the research as well, and
nobody found out anything from her.

But she hadn't found out anything concerning Dana Scully.  She
knew that Agent Scully had at one time been assigned to the X-
files, and she knew that the woman was vanished, gone, maybe
abducted.  But everything Gibbons had heard from other agents
included facts such as Mulder and Scully's fairly frequent
arguments, their lack of faith in each other's theories, and the
absence of any romantic attachments between them.

So when she told Pender her version of Mulder's story, Dana
Scully was little more than a footnote in his life.  And Pender
nodded and agreed with what she said about Samantha and
abductions and obsessions...

...and didn't say a word about Mulder's other X-files partner.

He didn't mean to hide anything from Gibbons.  Even that early on
he had the concept of team in mind, the idea of a group trusting
and confiding completely in one another.  But when Pender opened
his mouth to tell Gibbons that she was missing a significant
aspect, the words just wouldn't come.

It wasn't just that he couldn't say them.  It was that they
weren't there to be said.  For some reason he couldn't think of a
single way to tell her what little bits he knew. 

He never quite figured out exactly why his mind froze then. 
Maybe it was because he thought it was personal.  Maybe because
Gibbons wasn't asking questions; she was telling him everything
but making no inquiries.  Only getting verification from him, not
answers.  Maybe it was because of Carol, in his memories and his
dreams still.  Because he, Pender, kept that secret in himself,
and what secrets he knew of Mulder's were kept so close to his
own that talking of one would somehow betray the other.

Whatever happened, something was started then.  Even though he
found a way to say it later on, it was too late then.  What was
he supposed to say?  "Gibbons, you were partly wrong, Mulder's
not simply mourning the loss of his sister, his life's
obsession?"  There wasn't any way to even bring the topic up.

It became even trickier several months later.  They were told
again that there was to be an expansion.  The news still came
from Skinner's office, but it had a lot more weight behind it
this time, because he had just been promoted up to Director of
the entire FBI.  And Mulder was promoted as well, to director of
the X-files.  Which didn't mean that he stopped cracking cases
with Pender, Gibbons, and the new Agent Burnett; but he stayed
behind more often and figured them out behind his desk.  And he
had a lot more paperwork to handle too, for which Pender didn't
envy him in the least.

When Wong was added the year after that, the section was split
into two sets of partners plus the director.  Despite this, it
still functioned as a team, Pender saw to that.  And the team had
started to have traditions, the biggest of all being the "study"
of the director.  Burnett didn't ask questions; he merely
investigated on the side silently, and Pender didn't even find
out that Gibbons was secretly encouraging and hinting to him
until he already had the story.  Or at least the story as far as
Gibbons knew it, the story that the team knew.  No one really
guessed that Pender had more left untold.

By the time Wong asked her first questions Pender confidently
told her to seek and find on her own.  He had tried the trick
with three others.  One of them had flat-out refused to bother if
the story was right there with the rest of the team; the other
two simply didn't look hard enough.  It confirmed the good
impression he had of Wong that she found it; it had practically
become a test.

Dubzinski somehow wormed his way into the X-files much the way
Pender had, by bothering people about it until he was assigned. 
He was inquisitive and determined enough that he found the story
in record time; with his brazen attitude and total lack of
reluctance to spout out the most outrageous theories to anyone
who would listen, he also ingratiated himself with the team in
record time.  He was the one who informed Pender that Skinner
could tell what agents were due to become permanent members of
the X-files simply by how many visits they paid the Director.

Dubzinski also partnered with Gibbons like they were made for
each other.  Both had casual relationships with other people;
Pender knew they weren't involved with one another, but they
worked together most of the time like they were the perfect
match.  Whenever Gibbons got mad, Dubzinski could tease her out
of it; whenever Dubzinski got too caught up in craziness Gibbons
could make him see logic (or what passed for logic among them;
another reason they got along so famously was they had well-
deserved reputations as the wildest theorizers of the X-files
agents).

Burnett and Wong's partnership took longer to work out.  Both
were quieter, calmer agents, with a penchant for logical
reasoning.  But Burnett had an odd streak running right down his
center; he would once in a while have intuitions straight out of
the blue, completely bizarre notions that invariably proved to be
correct.  However, he lack faith in his own instincts, and had a
habit of not saying whatever came to him until he had
proof...which, more than once, was /after/ a case was closed. 
Wong somehow (Pender couldn't quite figure out her technique, but
it worked) managed to draw him out.  He would at least tell her
what went through his mind at times, and she always seemed to
know, with the same sort of intuition, how to act on what he
said.  

With two near-perfect partnerships on the team, Pender was more
often than not the odd agent out.  Mulder, his one-time partner,
had too much to do to handle fieldwork with him most of the time,
though occasionally he would, as Pender had told Guss, simply pop
up on a case to offer assistance.  Pender generally either worked
on a solo project or helped one of the pairs with their cases. 
Sometimes of course the whole team worked together, and then he
was in the center of things.

Pender was in fact always considered to be in the center from the
other teammates' perspectives.  Mulder was their director, their
boss; but Pender was their coach and advisor.  He helped keep the
two teams in touch on cases.  The director assigned them the
cases, but unless it was something big Pender coordinated their
efforts, told them when to pursue leads and what to let slide. 
He made sure that they buttoned their coats in cold weather and
saw to it that none of them got trapped in some place really
tight; if a section agent was in danger then Pender was there. 
In truly bad situations, so was Mulder, of course.  "Protecting
our own" was the only thing as highly regarded as finding the
truth to the X-files agents.

Despite this, Pender couldn't help but feel somewhat left out. 
Particularly as he had the rather unpleasant task of chaperoning
a rapidly-growing pile of rejected agents through the X-files. 
The last year had seen nine green agents in and out; half of them
had been screaming for release, the other half were simply not
appropriate.  Pender had been partnered with them all.  Most of
them had been more than competent, several would someday be damn
fine agents; but they weren't X-files material.  None had pursued
Mulder's story, for instance.  They had either not chosen to or
had been stone-walled and given up.

Not that that was the final test or anything.  If one of them had
simply respected their director's privacy but had still had that
burning desire for the truth, the drive to devote as much as was
necessary to the X-files, the will strong enough to accept what
lay outside their realm of experience...Pender would have
accepted such an agent in an instant, but the truth was, none of
them had what he knew was required.

Except Terry Guss.  Pender had known that from day three, when
Guss asked his question about the director; the rest of the
section had seen it too.  He had told Skinner that Guss was to be
permanently assigned to the X-files (the Director had already
signed the papers by that time; one interview had been enough to
convince him).  Pender had also decided that unless they got a
new agent, and that wasn't likely, at least not for a year or
two, Guss was to stay as his partner.  They worked well together,
he saw that clearly.  Guss was more open than Pender when it came
to extreme possibilities; Pender was more open when it came to
human nature and what people could do to each other.  Of course
Guss was learning; still, Pender hoped that not all of his
beliefs had been shattered by their conversation, by Mulder's and
Samantha's stories.

Whatever happened, Guss was his partner, and Pender was pleased
to have him as one.

Guss was also not there that Monday.

Bye ten o'clock he hadn't come in; nor had he called to say he
was going to be late or out for whatever reason.  All the agents
happened to be in the office, but none had heard from him all
weekend.

No matter what people said sometimes, Pender wasn't psychic.  He
could read peoples' expressions, but not their minds.  And he
certainly wasn't clairvoyant or prescient or any of that; he
didn't believe in any such abilities, in fact.

Nevertheless, when Guss didn't appear by ten thirty Pender had a
very bad sinking feeling in his stomach and a rather ill
premonition that he knew what was going on.

Stop it, he told himself, don't give yourself an ulcer over
nothing.  Casually he called Guss's home number, got the
answering machine and no one there screening calls.  He also
inquired around to see if Guss was visiting another section for
whatever reasons.  No luck.  So he called Guss's celphone.

The staccato beeping told him that Guss had his phone, but the
ringer was off.  The main time an FBI agent turns the ringer off
is when they're in a sneaky situation, one in which ringing
noises cause problems such as getting captured.  Pender's
premonition started to get louder and clearer in his mind.

And it came to a head a few minutes before eleven, when his phone
beeped loudly.  He answered it in a hurry. "Pender here."

At eleven o'clock Pender came charging into the Director's
office.  Not Mulder's office, but where Mulder was at the time,
in a meeting with Director Skinner and several other important
FBI officials.

Pender didn't even look embarrassed as five people, all of whom
could fire him with a simple signature, stared at him.  Behind
him Skinner's secretary was waving frantically.  "Sir, I'm sorry,
sir, will you please wait for the meeting's end--" she was
alternately saying to Skinner and to Pender.

Mulder had stood the moment his agent entered.  "Excuse me," he
addressed his colleagues first, "I think my agent has something
to report," and then turned to his agent, "Pender, what's this
about?"

"Sir," Pender said, very coolly, "We have a situation."

Mulder's expression as good as screamed 'I can see that' but all
he said aloud was, "What?"

Momentarily Pender's eyes flicked to the Director and the other
three seated at the table.  Not the best impression we X-files
agents can make, he supposed, and then he focused on Mulder.
"Sir, Guss has gone on sort of a private crusade, and if we don't
move real fast my partner's going to be in some boiling hot
water." 

Mulder nodded once sharply and turned to Skinner. "Sir," he
began, "if I may--"

Skinner waved him away with one hand. "We'll finish without you,
director Mulder.  Go take care of this.  But I want a full report
tomorrow..."  He trailed off; Pender mentally filled in the next
sentence...'If it's something you can actually report.'

Pender filled the director in on the details while they hurried
back to the X-files office.  "Guss is in Minnesota of all places-
-"

"Those false abduction cases."  Statement, not question.

"Yes.  Did you read his report on his theory?"

"Kidnappings.  Covered up for unknown reasons by making them look
like alien abductions."

"Well, Guss did a little more theorizing over the weekend.  He
put together a whole slew of facts and came up with the notion
that a company there may have been behind it, possibly backed by
a larger interest..." No need to say conspiracy, government or
otherwise.  Mulder could fill in those blanks just fine. "And
moreover, he changed his mind about something.  His original
theory had it that the families were hushing up ransom demands;
now he thinks that there weren't any.  The kidnapping was for
other reasons...possibly related to the fact that a real
abduction, by aliens as far as we can tell, occurred a few months
prior to all this."

"Wasn't this theory already covered?" Mulder asked.  Of course it
was; it was one of the most standard ones of all.

"We checked that out first, sir, of course.  But it didn't have
any of the earmarks of a 'standard' fake abduction."

"Guss's explanation for this?"

"It wasn't a 'standard' abduction.  Rather it was performed by an
outside source who didn't know the techniques of faking an
abduction..."

"So ended up doing one all the more realistic," Mulder finished
the thought grimly.  "Where's Guss now?"

"Minneapolis.  Checking out the company firsthand."

They had reached the office by now.  The other agents immediately
took up orbit around their director, and he took the head
position willingly, issuing orders immediately, sending Pender,
Gibbons, and Dubzinski to the airport and to the scene, calling
the Minneapolis police for some requests for backup, and ordering
Wong and Burnett back to their own case. "If you're needed, we'll
get you, but other than that you'll do more good at your assigned
post."

They all congregated momentarily outside the office.  Gibbons
grabbed Pender's arm and drew him off to the side, though somehow
the others managed to get pulled along as well.  

"Pender," Gibbons hissed, "listen to me."

Pender stared down at her.  "Listening," he reported.

"You are /not/," she told him, enunciating every word, "/not/
going to blame yourself for this."

It was an effort not to squirm, but Pender managed.  "I'm not,"
he said, "but I can't deny the fact that this whole part of his
theory was a direct result of what we talked about Friday night-"

"--And that he's run off to set wrongs right just because you
told him just how many wrongs are out there, and besides which
you were the one who put Hitler in power," Gibbons snapped. 
"Lee, I am not going to let you wallow in remorse about this. 
Whatever happens to that boy is his own damn fault.  And whatever
happens, this division does not need /two/ agents completely
wrapped up in pointless guilt."

"Do I look wrapped up in guilt?" Pender demanded.

Well, maybe it didn't show on his face, but something must have
been there if it inspired Burnett of all people to speak. "You
know you don't let expressions show unless you put them there
deliberately.  It doesn't mean you aren't feeling anything
anymore than the director's look means he's emotionally dead."

Wong nodded, backing her partner up.  Dubzinski had that solid,
unmovable stance which indicated clearer than words that he was
behind his own partner about five hundred percent.

"I'm not wrapped up in it," Pender growled. "I'm fine.  Let's
catch the plane, people, before I actually have something to feel
guilty about."  And he took off down the hall before his fellow
agents could say something else to make him feel completely naked
in their eyes.


end part 1