Title:  Tombstones
Author:  Vickie Moseley
Summary:  Fill in the blank for Within, just after 
Doggett reveals Mulder's tombstone with the death 
date of 2000.
Spoilers:  Within
Category:  V SA MT SkA MSR
Rating:  E for Everybody
Archive:  yes
Disclaimer:  since the body of work that is fan 
fiction by now far exceeds the body of work that is 
the original series (even including the stuff in the 
final two years), I present to the court findings that 
it is the fan fic authors who rightfully hold this 
intellectual property.  However, since American 
jurisprudence is based on economics as much as 
intellectual freedom, I will refrain from infringing 
on the previous and still existing copyright. (Can 
you tell I've been writing Rules and Regs this 
week?)
Author's notes:  Really short one hammered out 
while cleaning up a longer story.  I've always hated 
the stupid 'Clue' style revelation of Mulder's 'brain 
affliction' and tombstone in Within.  The man had 
been hospitalized no less than 4 times in Season 7 
and we're supposed to believe that Scully didn't 
know he had this frontal lobe thingy???  What the 
heck kind of pathologist is she supposed to be??  So 
I sort of walked them through a reasonable (or at 
least plausible) explanation.  Also, my Scully isn't a 
pod person.  She knows what she's doing.  Nuff 
said.
Comments:  vickiemoseley1978@yahoo.com

Tombstones
by Vickie Moseley

Skinner walked with her to the elevators.  She 
showed no sign of wanting to talk, but he had too 
many questions.

"Scully," he said, obviously at a loss for words, but 
needing something to pry information out of her.

"Not here.  By the Basin -- in thirty minutes," she 
hissed and when she got off on the wrong floor, he 
didn't try to stop her.

It was a long wait, and he had a meeting that he was 
forced to cancel, but finally he found himself 
walking across the sun-drenched sidewalk toward a 
bench near the Jefferson Memorial.  The cherry 
blossoms were mere memories now, the full green 
leaves of the trees danced in the wind.  He sat down 
beside her and waited to speak until a young couple 
pushing a stroller were out of earshot.

"How much of that did you know?" he asked, 
having had time now to form his jumbled thoughts 
into coherent questions.  He had been shocked by 
all of it, Mulder's terminal illness, the clandestine 
trips to North Carolina, the gravestone.  It was all 
too much and too much like Mulder.  Maybe 
walking into that beam of light had been a mercy 
killing?

"We found out about the illness shortly after he 
returned to work last year, after the 'surgery'."  She 
spat out the last word as if it were a curse.  
"Apparently it only slowed the progression, stopped 
the dissonance that caused him so much trouble.  
But whatever had caused it never really went 
away."

"Scully -- "

"It started with headaches.  I thought it was his 
contacts, he's always forgetting to get his eyes 
checked.  When I finally got him to an 
ophthalmologist, the doctor immediately referred 
him to a neurologist.  We went to four different 
neurologists in a period of about 6 weeks.  All said 
the same thing."

"Why didn't you tell . . . "  Skinner's voice trailed 
off, but from the betrayal in his eyes, he hoped it 
was understood.  Why didn't they tell him, of all 
people?

She looked him straight in the eye and with a grim 
expression.  "We didn't know who we could trust -- 
who hadn't been compromised."

Her words would have had no less impact if they'd 
been a sledgehammer to his gut.  She reached out 
and did something so uncharacteristically 'Scully-
like' that he forgot for a moment about his own 
pain.  She put her hand on top of his and squeezed.

"We knew that . . . forces . . . were at work.  We 
were trying other options."

"The trips to North Carolina?"

"My idea.  When Mulder was at Ashford Medical 
Center being treated for the tobacco beetles his 
doctor suggested I call one of his friends from med 
school.  The man is a specialist in neurology who 
works out of the University of North Carolina.  He's 
done some tremendous work with lasers.  We'd 
hoped . . ."

"But you didn't know about the stone, Scully.  I 
could see that in your eyes."

"No.  He hadn't told me about that.  But one time, 
something my mother said . . . "  Her voice caught 
and she looked away, gathering composure and 
resolve to continue.   "Apparently, when I was gone 
so long ago, when everyone thought I was dead -- 
my mother asked Mulder to help her pick out my 
tombstone.  She said she'd never seen anyone look 
so desolate.  She regretted inviting him to come to 
the masonry; it seemed to crush his spirit.  She 
thought afterwards that he looked like he'd lost faith 
in everything that day.  I was found shortly 
afterwards, so the stone went unused but that day, 
my mother feared for his life."

"She thought he'd -- "

"Commit suicide, yes," Scully finished Skinner's 
thought.  "I can only guess that he wanted to save 
me from that experience, picking out his stone."

She leaned her head back and caught a few rays of 
the sun.  "We aren't going to find him digging up all 
their red herrings, sir," she said calmly, though he 
was certain calm was the last thing she felt.  "For all 
I know, that tombstone was a plant.  Someone is 
trying to pass themselves off as Mulder, using his 
credit card, showing up at my apartment.  We know 
there are people out there -- "

"What about Agent Doggett?  Who's side is he on?"  
It was a question he knew was on her mind as well.  
One of them had to give voice to it.

"Agent Doggett is a fool," she growled, "but I don't 
think he's in league with them."  She sat up and 
leaned forward.  "I have no doubt that Kersh 
handpicked him precisely because he never colored 
outside the lines in kindergarten."

"He's a good investigator," Skinner said, but it was 
a lame attempt at best.  "I've looked over his 
record."

"So have I and I have no doubt that he can follow 
clues, sir.  But can he tell when he's being fed false 
ones?  That's the far more difficult task we face.  I 
know that Mulder is alive; I can feel it in my very 
bones.  But I also know that looking at his credit 
slips and finding tombstones he may or may not 
have bought are not going to find him.  There are 
bread crumbs out there, but we have to know that a 
lot of them have been placed as detours."

"So where do we go from here, Scully?  And what 
are you going to do about Doggett?  If you're right 
and he follows the wrong clues, he could very well 
impede our own efforts."

"Which is exactly what they want him to do, sir," 
she said, taking a deep breath.  "For the time being, 
I think we should keep a close eye on Agent 
Doggett."

"Is that a good idea?" Skinner asked.

Scully smiled sadly.  "A close friend of Mulder's 
once told him 'keep you friends close, but your 
enemies closer'.  Until we know what side he's 
really on, I plan on keeping John Doggett right 
where I can see him, but far enough away that he 
doesn't know what I'm doing."

"This is a dangerous game, Scully."

She looked out onto the water, where the sunlight 
sparkled on the ripples created by the breeze.  "I 
figured that out a long time ago, sir."

the end