![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
51stcenturyfoxitle: Parallels (Torchwood/X-files crossover)
Author Name:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
51stcenturyfox
Pairing(s): Mulder/Scully, Jack/Scully, Lone Gunmen, PC Andy
Genre: Romance, het, mostly gen, humor
Summary: Dana Scully goes missing in Cardiff, and Torchwood is involved
Rating: R for language
Warnings: Spoilers for Everything Changes. One-off. Contains some X-Files cliche cheese.
Word Count: 2616
Author's Notes: after reading the Torchwood/X-Files crossover Tunguska bycyus this morning, I had a plotbunny. Not posted anywhere. Concrit welcomed.
Fox Mulder sat at his desk, chewing thoughtfully on a cold bagel sandwich. Getting the dregs of the cafeteria leftovers came with the basement office, at least whenever he lost track of time and only remembered to head upstairs for breakfast at 10:30. He also blamed working late on the lack of windows. Of course he had a watch, and the corner of his computer screen showed the time, but it always surprised him a little, even after all these years, to stroll out after work and realize it was pitch dark. Who the hell works underground? Fuckups, that's who.
Working late this week had nothing to do with Scully being away at a medical conference in Wales. Nothing at all. He threw the remainder of his sandwich into a wastebasket and opened another folder on his PC desktop.
*
Dana Scully grabbed the empty styrofoam cup off the floor and left the hotel's conference room to join the other pathologists heading for the exit. She paused in the hallway to review a sign board listing the next day's seminar events, her toe dragging on the fleur-de-lis-patterned carpet.
GENETIC TIES AND BLOOD ANALYSIS
Rainbow Room - 303
BAD WIRING - PSYCHOLOGICAL DIAGNOSES
with special guest, Dr. Oliver Sacks
Dragon Room - 305
Well, now, those sound considerably less boring than today's parade of powerpoints, she thought. She decided that a nice long soak would be a good way to end the evening. The water pressure in the showers here was pretty bad, but at least the water was hot.
A dark-haired man in a long coat stepped in front of her, his hand capturing her elbow. She looked up to see... well. he was good-looking. Very.
He glanced at her name tag. "Dr. Dana Scully?"
She nodded.
"Captain Jack Harkness. Torchwood. Could I speak with you for a moment? Privately?"
*
Jack pulled a chair out for Scully in the corner of the hotel bar.
"What is this about?" she asked him as she sat. She realized she still had the coffee cup clenched in her hand and set it on the table.
"I understand you're a pathologist, and you've worked on some strange cases," Jack replied.
"Strange?"
"Yes, strange. Unconventional. That isn't accurate?"
"I work for the FBI in the US. My findings are generally classified."
"I know all about your findings, Dr Scully. Torchwood has access to them, and..."
"It's Agent Scully. And sorry, but who are you with again?"
Jack put up a hand as a cocktail server approached. "Two pints of - Agent Scully, you do like beer?"
She nodded slowly. "Sure."
"Two pints of Cwrw Haf, please."
The server left and Jack smiled at Scully. "Welsh ale. It's a nice one. One of the best parts of travel is sampling the local specialties. One time, I had a variety of vodka that was out of this world. I mean, literally. The martinis they made with that stuff could knock you flat on your ass within ten minutes." He winked.
"Okay then. Back to... what's Torchwood?" Scully asked, tapping a beer mat against the edge of the table.
"You like to get down to business, don't you, Agent? Actually, do you mind very much if I call you Dana?" He smiled disarmingly.
Before she could answer, their pints arrived and Jack toasted her. "Lechyd da. That means 'good health.'"
She took a sip, nodded.
"It's very nice."
"Thought you might like that one," Jack replied, leaning back in his chair.
"So. Again. Torchwood?"
"Tenacious and strikingly beautiful. Your hair..."
Scully raised a cynical eyebrow and crossed her arms. What a player.
"I think it'd be better if I just showed you," Jack said. "Bottoms up. But I have to uh, spend a penny first. Be right back."
As he strode away, Scully pulled her phone out of her purse.
"Mulder, It's me. Can you run a check on this name..."
*
Byers shook his head as he pulled a sheet from the printer.
"Really random mention. Suffolk, UK. Rendlesham Forest UFO sighting - reports of some Army personnel turning up, called themselves Unit, or The Unit, something like that. MUFON interviewed several people in the area and one of them mentioned Torchwood. Here it is."
He passed the printout to Mulder.
'A representative told my wife and me he was from Torchwood, Tall bloke in a military coat. He dug the metal bits we'd found out of the back garden and thanked us. Nice fellow - made us all a cup of tea. I have arthritis, see, hard to do much on my own these days. Next morning the wife seemed a bit hazy and didn't remember anything about the meteor or whatever he'd said it was. Eleanor, she has problems recalling though. Memory does go at our age. I only remembered myself when I ran across the shovel and that great hole in the garden by the rosebushes.'
"And that's all we've got. No mention of that other name." Byers straightened his tie.
So you think the UK Government is tied to this Torchwood thing? Covering up UFO evidence?" Mulder asked, as he gingerly moved the guts of a CB radio or something, off of a stool in the Lone Gunmen's office so he could sit down.
"Well, duh," Langly said. "But we shelved this years ago. Don't have much to go on here. Wanna tell us what this is about?"
Mulder glanced at Langly, then down. He fiddled with the CB parts.
"Scully left me a message - '...check out Torchwood - Jack Harkness - can you see if you have any info?' She sounded kind of rushed. I tried to call her back this morning and she didn't answer. I called her hotel, where the conference is, and they have no record of her checking in, no reservation, nothing... but they'd put me through to her room yesterday."
"Dana's... missing?" Frohike asked. His face dropped.
*
Dana Scully was a cautious person by nature, but something about Jack Harkness made her want to follow him out of the hotel and down the street. It was partly professional curiosity - strange cases - and maybe a little bit of it was the way he smelled. Kind of...well, it was indescribably good. She shook her head as she rushed to keep up.
Jack led her down the Plass until she found herself at the entrance of...
"...a tourist office?"
"Yeah, it's...well, it's just through here," Jack said. He unlocked the door and placed a hand at the small of her back to guide her in. Scully tensed. She was armed, just in case this Harkness guy turned out to be...a bit...off.
They walked through another door and a dark hallway in silence, then into an elevator. They emerged into another hallway and were met with a grinding noise and a beep as a metal door slid to the side like a piece of clockwork.
She looked around. "So, Torchwood is a clubhouse. With a hidden underground lair."
"Not exactly," Jack said, laughing. "Yeah, I know it's odd, working underground. The basement is usually where they put the oddball stuff, huh?" His eyes met hers and he extended a hand.
"Follow me, Dana."
He led her across a catwalk, where she nearly stumbled. Jack reached out to steady her, catching an elbow and a hip.
"You okay?"
"Yes, fine," she answered, stiffly. Am I getting turned on?
Scully brushed a strand of hair from her eyes and followed Jack to a wall with rows of drawers and watched as he pulled one of them out. A body.
"A hidden underground lair. With a morgue."
Jack grinned at her and pulled over a wheeled cart. He flipped back a green cloth to reveal a set of surgical instruments and selected a scalpel. He dragged the scalpel over the inside of the subject's arm and squeezed. A rivulet of black blood trickled forth.
Scully leaned in for a closer look, index finger out to poke at the incision, but Jack caught her shoulder.
"You'd better glove up. We don't know if it's a good idea to touch that."
"What about you?"
"I'm sort of, well, immune to this. To lots of things, actually. Long story."
*
Mulder shoved a half-bag of sunflower seeds into the glovebox, slammed the door shut and spoke into his phone, "Got anything this afternoon? That's good. No, just one. Yeah, economy is fine. Dulles to Cardiff, connecting through Gatwick. Gate 4F. Got it." He hung up and dialed again.
"Skinner, you know that leave I'm gonna lose if I don't take it before the end of the year? Well..."
*
"You certainly have some expensive equipment here," Scully said, yawning, as she pulled an output sheet from the machine testing the blood sample. She checked her watch. 4:30 am. God, being underground really does screw up your internal clock, she thought.
"See, we do. We have lots of tools, but nobody with the right background to operate them. This is why I wanted you to have a look. Torchwood doesn't have a doctor. Kind of need one."
"Well, something must be wrong with your equipment. This isn't human DNA," Scully said.
"Yup. It's alien."
She looked it him skeptically.
"It is," Jack continued. "You have just autopsied and analyzed an alien."
Scully made a face. This sounded familiar. Am I a magnet for these types? "I hardly think you have an alien here. Just a deceased woman, mid-20s, with an uncategorized blood disorder."
"Alien. Shape-shifting alien, to be exact."
"O-kay, well, if you're convinced of that, why do you need a pathologist?"
"We need to find out how to kill these particular aliens."
Scully regarded him. "Well. Something pretty basic killed this one."
"Yeah..?"
"Blunt force trauma. Back of the head."
*
Mulder stood in an office at the Constabulary, waiting for an officer to take his report. To kill time, he had a look at the missing persons list on the bulletin board.
"Hello sir, have a seat," said the blond man. "PC Andy Davidson. How can I help you?"
"Missing person. You seem to have a lot of them around here."
"Yeah, well. Cardiff," the young-looking policeman said, as if that explained everything."Name?"
"Dana Scully. Special Agent, FBI. In fact, maybe I should be talking to someone at one of your agencies," Mulder said.
"Nah, she went missing here, it's a local case. We'll handle this for you, sir. Now, you don't suspect foul play, do you? Was she investigating something here in Cardiff? That would be unusual, wouldn't it?"
"Yes, well, no, she was...here for a medical conference at the Convention Centre, but she's no longer listed anywhere and she left me a message to check out a Torchwood and a Jack Harkness. Heard of 'em?"
"Can't say I have, sir. Would you mind passing me your mobile? Perhaps we can trace where the call originated."
*
"Can I get you a cup of tea?" Jack asked Scully as they walked upstairs and he motioned to a sofa.
"Yes, certainly."
"You would probably prefer coffee. I do too, but our coffee is total crap. Nobody can make a decent cup around here." Jack walked away and she examined her surroundings. Computer monitors, an upper level.
Jack returned shortly with two mugs. "So I was saying, Dana, we don't have a doctor or pathologist here."
"Right."
"...And I was wondering if you might be interested in the job."
She took a breath. "I have a job. And I don't even know what you actually do here."
Jack sat back on the sofa.
"Cardiff," he began, "is set on a rift in space and time..."
When he finished his explanation, Scully's mouth was hanging open. Jack captured her hand and hoisted her to her feet, pulling her towards the cells in the basement.
"Let me just show you something, before you make up your mind." he said.
*
Scully gawked at the being behind the perforated cell window.
"What the hell is that?"
"That is an alien. We call them Weevils. They live in the sewers, mostly," Jack said, crossing his arms and leaning against a wall.
Scully peered through the plexiglas. "Maybe it isn't an alien," she said. "It could be a mutant, or something."
"Alien. Trust me."
"Yes. Well. This is... whoa. It's..."
"Alien."
Scully regarded Jack. He was smiling. She began to laugh, at first quietly, but the laughter built and rose until she was struggling for breath.
"You know," she gasped, "I believe you. I...believe."
Jack nodded.
"Mulder has GOT to see this," Scully said.
"That's your partner, huh?" Jack asked.
She nodded.
"Well, he can't know. Sorry."
Scully looked at the alien, then at Jack.
"So are you and...Mulder... are you together or something?"
"We? He? No. God, no."
And she felt Jack's chest against her back, before he turned her towards him.
"More tea?" he asked, before his lips met hers.
The Weevil growled.
*
Mulder leaned on the brass rail lining the edge of the hotel bar. Truth be told, it was holding him up.
"They call me Spooky, ya know. Spooky Mulder, whose sister was abducted by aliens when he was just a kid and who now chases after little green men with a badge and a gun, shouting to the heavens or to anyone who will listen that the fix is in, that the sky is falling and when it hits it's gonna be the shit-storm of all time."
Andy Davidson rolled his eyes. Community policing and assisting traumatised victims was one thing, but fuck, this American was daft.
"Scully, she doesn't believe. She doesn't BELIEVE in aliens. Even after the things she's seen with her own eyes," Mulder continued.
"So... you chase aliens?" Andy asked.
"Ayup." Mulder hiccuped.
"Oh. Right."
The PC's mobile chirped and he answered it with a look of relief.
"They've traced the last spot where your partner's mobile was used."
Mulder perked up. "Yeah?"
"Here. This hotel. Twenty minutes ago. Sir, have you knocked her up"
"What? No. We're not... it's not, like that. Platonic?"
"Er, sorry, I mean, have you actually gone round to her room to see if she's there?"
*
Earlier, Jack Harkness had tucked Dana Scully into her bed. He liked to think of himself as a gentleman, sometimes, so he'd undressed her with his eyes closed.
Alright, one eye.
He was genuinely sorry he'd had to Retcon her, but she didn't want anything to do with Torchwood unless Mulder was a part of it, no matter how vehemently he made his case. And her (infamous) partner just wasn't part of the plan. Jack had given her enough sedative to put her down for several hours.
Special Agent Fox Mulder would have fucked everything up.
At least Jack had been able to kiss her before their second cup of tea. Scorching. He loved her hair, but her lips... he sighed. What a shame.
He placed a labeled bottle on top of her suitcase, straightened his coat lapels and returned to the Hub to ring FedEx for a pickup.
*
"I really can't believe you, Mulder," Scully said, as she pushed the seat back in the plane and pulled a set of headphones from her bag.
"What?"
"I don't answer my phone, so you fly to Wales to check on me?"
"You left me a message, I think. I don't recall, really. I was just worried about you," he said. "Sorry. I'm a pain in the ass."
"No, it's alright. It's... kind of sweet, actually."
*
Frohike opened the box. "Says, it's from Mulder, sent from Cardiff." He reached in and extracted a smaller container enclosed in dry ice. Three bottles of beer.
"A three-pack? Is that a Welsh thing"
"Mulder must have cracked one," Langly said. Byers rolled his eyes. Mulder had... no class.
"Well, he found Scully. Good reason to celebrate," Langly pointed out.
Byers nodded. "Hopefully he'll be able to fill in the gaps on this Torchwood deal when they get back."
Frohike fished a typed note from the box.
"Guys, try this as soon as it gets there while it's still cool or it'll go off. Welsh ale. Good stuff. Cheers, Mulder"
Byers pulled out the bottle opener on his keychain. "Well, why not?" He passed out the bottles as the men settled back at their computers.
Half an hour later, Frohike motioned at the other boxes that had arrived that day via FedEx.
"Hey, Langly. Gonna collate those newsletters from the printer? It's your turn."
Langly took a final pull from his bottle of ale. "Dude, I'll do it later. I'm really tired all of a sudden."
---------------------
* Epilogue *
--------------------
PC Andy looked over the CCTV footage with Gwen Cooper and motioned at the image of Jack Harkness on the tape. "What's your friend Mulder doing there?" he asked.
"Who?"
"I thought... he just reminds me a bit of a bloke I met - back before you joined the force. Another Yank. Kind of a spooky bugger. Never mind me."
*
Scully bent over her computer screen, squinting at tiny print in a report. Black oil? Why did that ring a bell?
She closed her eyes and felt the edge of a memory tickle her brain. Black blood. Tall man. Underground."Lechyd da." What?
Scully shook her head to clear it. Suddenly another memory...a feeling...hit her. A scent.
She felt a flutter in her belly and looked at her tall, dark-haired partner, who was tying his shoe. She bit her lip.
"Hey, Mulder."
"Yeah?"
"It's after 7. Let's get out of here, grab a...beer? Maybe?"
"You and me?"
Scully nodded.
Mulder grabbed his jacket from the coat rack as he turned off the lights in the basement office, his hand at Scully's back.
He'd never tire of following her.
*
Author Name:
51stcenturyfox Pairing(s): Mulder/Scully, Jack/Scully, Lone Gunmen, PC Andy
Genre: Romance, het, mostly gen, humor
Summary: Dana Scully goes missing in Cardiff, and Torchwood is involved
Rating: R for language
Warnings: Spoilers for Everything Changes. One-off. Contains some X-Files cliche cheese.
Word Count: 2616
Author's Notes: after reading the Torchwood/X-Files crossover Tunguska by
cyus this morning, I had a plotbunny. Not posted anywhere. Concrit welcomed.Fox Mulder sat at his desk, chewing thoughtfully on a cold bagel sandwich. Getting the dregs of the cafeteria leftovers came with the basement office, at least whenever he lost track of time and only remembered to head upstairs for breakfast at 10:30. He also blamed working late on the lack of windows. Of course he had a watch, and the corner of his computer screen showed the time, but it always surprised him a little, even after all these years, to stroll out after work and realize it was pitch dark. Who the hell works underground? Fuckups, that's who.
Working late this week had nothing to do with Scully being away at a medical conference in Wales. Nothing at all. He threw the remainder of his sandwich into a wastebasket and opened another folder on his PC desktop.
*
Dana Scully grabbed the empty styrofoam cup off the floor and left the hotel's conference room to join the other pathologists heading for the exit. She paused in the hallway to review a sign board listing the next day's seminar events, her toe dragging on the fleur-de-lis-patterned carpet.
GENETIC TIES AND BLOOD ANALYSIS
Rainbow Room - 303
BAD WIRING - PSYCHOLOGICAL DIAGNOSES
with special guest, Dr. Oliver Sacks
Dragon Room - 305
Well, now, those sound considerably less boring than today's parade of powerpoints, she thought. She decided that a nice long soak would be a good way to end the evening. The water pressure in the showers here was pretty bad, but at least the water was hot.
A dark-haired man in a long coat stepped in front of her, his hand capturing her elbow. She looked up to see... well. he was good-looking. Very.
He glanced at her name tag. "Dr. Dana Scully?"
She nodded.
"Captain Jack Harkness. Torchwood. Could I speak with you for a moment? Privately?"
*
Jack pulled a chair out for Scully in the corner of the hotel bar.
"What is this about?" she asked him as she sat. She realized she still had the coffee cup clenched in her hand and set it on the table.
"I understand you're a pathologist, and you've worked on some strange cases," Jack replied.
"Strange?"
"Yes, strange. Unconventional. That isn't accurate?"
"I work for the FBI in the US. My findings are generally classified."
"I know all about your findings, Dr Scully. Torchwood has access to them, and..."
"It's Agent Scully. And sorry, but who are you with again?"
Jack put up a hand as a cocktail server approached. "Two pints of - Agent Scully, you do like beer?"
She nodded slowly. "Sure."
"Two pints of Cwrw Haf, please."
The server left and Jack smiled at Scully. "Welsh ale. It's a nice one. One of the best parts of travel is sampling the local specialties. One time, I had a variety of vodka that was out of this world. I mean, literally. The martinis they made with that stuff could knock you flat on your ass within ten minutes." He winked.
"Okay then. Back to... what's Torchwood?" Scully asked, tapping a beer mat against the edge of the table.
"You like to get down to business, don't you, Agent? Actually, do you mind very much if I call you Dana?" He smiled disarmingly.
Before she could answer, their pints arrived and Jack toasted her. "Lechyd da. That means 'good health.'"
She took a sip, nodded.
"It's very nice."
"Thought you might like that one," Jack replied, leaning back in his chair.
"So. Again. Torchwood?"
"Tenacious and strikingly beautiful. Your hair..."
Scully raised a cynical eyebrow and crossed her arms. What a player.
"I think it'd be better if I just showed you," Jack said. "Bottoms up. But I have to uh, spend a penny first. Be right back."
As he strode away, Scully pulled her phone out of her purse.
"Mulder, It's me. Can you run a check on this name..."
*
Byers shook his head as he pulled a sheet from the printer.
"Really random mention. Suffolk, UK. Rendlesham Forest UFO sighting - reports of some Army personnel turning up, called themselves Unit, or The Unit, something like that. MUFON interviewed several people in the area and one of them mentioned Torchwood. Here it is."
He passed the printout to Mulder.
'A representative told my wife and me he was from Torchwood, Tall bloke in a military coat. He dug the metal bits we'd found out of the back garden and thanked us. Nice fellow - made us all a cup of tea. I have arthritis, see, hard to do much on my own these days. Next morning the wife seemed a bit hazy and didn't remember anything about the meteor or whatever he'd said it was. Eleanor, she has problems recalling though. Memory does go at our age. I only remembered myself when I ran across the shovel and that great hole in the garden by the rosebushes.'
"And that's all we've got. No mention of that other name." Byers straightened his tie.
So you think the UK Government is tied to this Torchwood thing? Covering up UFO evidence?" Mulder asked, as he gingerly moved the guts of a CB radio or something, off of a stool in the Lone Gunmen's office so he could sit down.
"Well, duh," Langly said. "But we shelved this years ago. Don't have much to go on here. Wanna tell us what this is about?"
Mulder glanced at Langly, then down. He fiddled with the CB parts.
"Scully left me a message - '...check out Torchwood - Jack Harkness - can you see if you have any info?' She sounded kind of rushed. I tried to call her back this morning and she didn't answer. I called her hotel, where the conference is, and they have no record of her checking in, no reservation, nothing... but they'd put me through to her room yesterday."
"Dana's... missing?" Frohike asked. His face dropped.
*
Dana Scully was a cautious person by nature, but something about Jack Harkness made her want to follow him out of the hotel and down the street. It was partly professional curiosity - strange cases - and maybe a little bit of it was the way he smelled. Kind of...well, it was indescribably good. She shook her head as she rushed to keep up.
Jack led her down the Plass until she found herself at the entrance of...
"...a tourist office?"
"Yeah, it's...well, it's just through here," Jack said. He unlocked the door and placed a hand at the small of her back to guide her in. Scully tensed. She was armed, just in case this Harkness guy turned out to be...a bit...off.
They walked through another door and a dark hallway in silence, then into an elevator. They emerged into another hallway and were met with a grinding noise and a beep as a metal door slid to the side like a piece of clockwork.
She looked around. "So, Torchwood is a clubhouse. With a hidden underground lair."
"Not exactly," Jack said, laughing. "Yeah, I know it's odd, working underground. The basement is usually where they put the oddball stuff, huh?" His eyes met hers and he extended a hand.
"Follow me, Dana."
He led her across a catwalk, where she nearly stumbled. Jack reached out to steady her, catching an elbow and a hip.
"You okay?"
"Yes, fine," she answered, stiffly. Am I getting turned on?
Scully brushed a strand of hair from her eyes and followed Jack to a wall with rows of drawers and watched as he pulled one of them out. A body.
"A hidden underground lair. With a morgue."
Jack grinned at her and pulled over a wheeled cart. He flipped back a green cloth to reveal a set of surgical instruments and selected a scalpel. He dragged the scalpel over the inside of the subject's arm and squeezed. A rivulet of black blood trickled forth.
Scully leaned in for a closer look, index finger out to poke at the incision, but Jack caught her shoulder.
"You'd better glove up. We don't know if it's a good idea to touch that."
"What about you?"
"I'm sort of, well, immune to this. To lots of things, actually. Long story."
*
Mulder shoved a half-bag of sunflower seeds into the glovebox, slammed the door shut and spoke into his phone, "Got anything this afternoon? That's good. No, just one. Yeah, economy is fine. Dulles to Cardiff, connecting through Gatwick. Gate 4F. Got it." He hung up and dialed again.
"Skinner, you know that leave I'm gonna lose if I don't take it before the end of the year? Well..."
*
"You certainly have some expensive equipment here," Scully said, yawning, as she pulled an output sheet from the machine testing the blood sample. She checked her watch. 4:30 am. God, being underground really does screw up your internal clock, she thought.
"See, we do. We have lots of tools, but nobody with the right background to operate them. This is why I wanted you to have a look. Torchwood doesn't have a doctor. Kind of need one."
"Well, something must be wrong with your equipment. This isn't human DNA," Scully said.
"Yup. It's alien."
She looked it him skeptically.
"It is," Jack continued. "You have just autopsied and analyzed an alien."
Scully made a face. This sounded familiar. Am I a magnet for these types? "I hardly think you have an alien here. Just a deceased woman, mid-20s, with an uncategorized blood disorder."
"Alien. Shape-shifting alien, to be exact."
"O-kay, well, if you're convinced of that, why do you need a pathologist?"
"We need to find out how to kill these particular aliens."
Scully regarded him. "Well. Something pretty basic killed this one."
"Yeah..?"
"Blunt force trauma. Back of the head."
*
Mulder stood in an office at the Constabulary, waiting for an officer to take his report. To kill time, he had a look at the missing persons list on the bulletin board.
"Hello sir, have a seat," said the blond man. "PC Andy Davidson. How can I help you?"
"Missing person. You seem to have a lot of them around here."
"Yeah, well. Cardiff," the young-looking policeman said, as if that explained everything."Name?"
"Dana Scully. Special Agent, FBI. In fact, maybe I should be talking to someone at one of your agencies," Mulder said.
"Nah, she went missing here, it's a local case. We'll handle this for you, sir. Now, you don't suspect foul play, do you? Was she investigating something here in Cardiff? That would be unusual, wouldn't it?"
"Yes, well, no, she was...here for a medical conference at the Convention Centre, but she's no longer listed anywhere and she left me a message to check out a Torchwood and a Jack Harkness. Heard of 'em?"
"Can't say I have, sir. Would you mind passing me your mobile? Perhaps we can trace where the call originated."
*
"Can I get you a cup of tea?" Jack asked Scully as they walked upstairs and he motioned to a sofa.
"Yes, certainly."
"You would probably prefer coffee. I do too, but our coffee is total crap. Nobody can make a decent cup around here." Jack walked away and she examined her surroundings. Computer monitors, an upper level.
Jack returned shortly with two mugs. "So I was saying, Dana, we don't have a doctor or pathologist here."
"Right."
"...And I was wondering if you might be interested in the job."
She took a breath. "I have a job. And I don't even know what you actually do here."
Jack sat back on the sofa.
"Cardiff," he began, "is set on a rift in space and time..."
When he finished his explanation, Scully's mouth was hanging open. Jack captured her hand and hoisted her to her feet, pulling her towards the cells in the basement.
"Let me just show you something, before you make up your mind." he said.
*
Scully gawked at the being behind the perforated cell window.
"What the hell is that?"
"That is an alien. We call them Weevils. They live in the sewers, mostly," Jack said, crossing his arms and leaning against a wall.
Scully peered through the plexiglas. "Maybe it isn't an alien," she said. "It could be a mutant, or something."
"Alien. Trust me."
"Yes. Well. This is... whoa. It's..."
"Alien."
Scully regarded Jack. He was smiling. She began to laugh, at first quietly, but the laughter built and rose until she was struggling for breath.
"You know," she gasped, "I believe you. I...believe."
Jack nodded.
"Mulder has GOT to see this," Scully said.
"That's your partner, huh?" Jack asked.
She nodded.
"Well, he can't know. Sorry."
Scully looked at the alien, then at Jack.
"So are you and...Mulder... are you together or something?"
"We? He? No. God, no."
And she felt Jack's chest against her back, before he turned her towards him.
"More tea?" he asked, before his lips met hers.
The Weevil growled.
*
Mulder leaned on the brass rail lining the edge of the hotel bar. Truth be told, it was holding him up.
"They call me Spooky, ya know. Spooky Mulder, whose sister was abducted by aliens when he was just a kid and who now chases after little green men with a badge and a gun, shouting to the heavens or to anyone who will listen that the fix is in, that the sky is falling and when it hits it's gonna be the shit-storm of all time."
Andy Davidson rolled his eyes. Community policing and assisting traumatised victims was one thing, but fuck, this American was daft.
"Scully, she doesn't believe. She doesn't BELIEVE in aliens. Even after the things she's seen with her own eyes," Mulder continued.
"So... you chase aliens?" Andy asked.
"Ayup." Mulder hiccuped.
"Oh. Right."
The PC's mobile chirped and he answered it with a look of relief.
"They've traced the last spot where your partner's mobile was used."
Mulder perked up. "Yeah?"
"Here. This hotel. Twenty minutes ago. Sir, have you knocked her up"
"What? No. We're not... it's not, like that. Platonic?"
"Er, sorry, I mean, have you actually gone round to her room to see if she's there?"
*
Earlier, Jack Harkness had tucked Dana Scully into her bed. He liked to think of himself as a gentleman, sometimes, so he'd undressed her with his eyes closed.
Alright, one eye.
He was genuinely sorry he'd had to Retcon her, but she didn't want anything to do with Torchwood unless Mulder was a part of it, no matter how vehemently he made his case. And her (infamous) partner just wasn't part of the plan. Jack had given her enough sedative to put her down for several hours.
Special Agent Fox Mulder would have fucked everything up.
At least Jack had been able to kiss her before their second cup of tea. Scorching. He loved her hair, but her lips... he sighed. What a shame.
He placed a labeled bottle on top of her suitcase, straightened his coat lapels and returned to the Hub to ring FedEx for a pickup.
*
"I really can't believe you, Mulder," Scully said, as she pushed the seat back in the plane and pulled a set of headphones from her bag.
"What?"
"I don't answer my phone, so you fly to Wales to check on me?"
"You left me a message, I think. I don't recall, really. I was just worried about you," he said. "Sorry. I'm a pain in the ass."
"No, it's alright. It's... kind of sweet, actually."
*
Frohike opened the box. "Says, it's from Mulder, sent from Cardiff." He reached in and extracted a smaller container enclosed in dry ice. Three bottles of beer.
"A three-pack? Is that a Welsh thing"
"Mulder must have cracked one," Langly said. Byers rolled his eyes. Mulder had... no class.
"Well, he found Scully. Good reason to celebrate," Langly pointed out.
Byers nodded. "Hopefully he'll be able to fill in the gaps on this Torchwood deal when they get back."
Frohike fished a typed note from the box.
"Guys, try this as soon as it gets there while it's still cool or it'll go off. Welsh ale. Good stuff. Cheers, Mulder"
Byers pulled out the bottle opener on his keychain. "Well, why not?" He passed out the bottles as the men settled back at their computers.
Half an hour later, Frohike motioned at the other boxes that had arrived that day via FedEx.
"Hey, Langly. Gonna collate those newsletters from the printer? It's your turn."
Langly took a final pull from his bottle of ale. "Dude, I'll do it later. I'm really tired all of a sudden."
---------------------
* Epilogue *
--------------------
PC Andy looked over the CCTV footage with Gwen Cooper and motioned at the image of Jack Harkness on the tape. "What's your friend Mulder doing there?" he asked.
"Who?"
"I thought... he just reminds me a bit of a bloke I met - back before you joined the force. Another Yank. Kind of a spooky bugger. Never mind me."
*
Scully bent over her computer screen, squinting at tiny print in a report. Black oil? Why did that ring a bell?
She closed her eyes and felt the edge of a memory tickle her brain. Black blood. Tall man. Underground."Lechyd da." What?
Scully shook her head to clear it. Suddenly another memory...a feeling...hit her. A scent.
She felt a flutter in her belly and looked at her tall, dark-haired partner, who was tying his shoe. She bit her lip.
"Hey, Mulder."
"Yeah?"
"It's after 7. Let's get out of here, grab a...beer? Maybe?"
"You and me?"
Scully nodded.
Mulder grabbed his jacket from the coat rack as he turned off the lights in the basement office, his hand at Scully's back.
He'd never tire of following her.
*