ONE DAY LATER
The sign on the door read OFFICE OF PROFES-SIONAL REVIEW. Inside Scully shifted ner-vously in her chair, far too conscious that the one beside her was empty, and tried to focus on what was being said.
"In light of Waco, and Ruby Ridge…" Scully bit her lip. This review was impor-tant, far too important for Mulder to be late; but Scully herself had barely made it here on time, exhausted as she was by the night-owl from Dallas back to D.C. In front of her, six assistant directors were arranged at a long table, shuffling papers and clearing their throats self-importantly. At the center of the conference table Assistant Director Jana Cassidy was declaiming, with the air of someone who held the fate of the world in her strong, impeccably manicured hands.
"… for the catastrophic destruction of pub-lic property and the loss of life due to terrorist activities…"
Next to Cassidy, Assistant Director Walter Skinner cast Scully a level look, letting his gaze linger for just a moment upon Mulder's conspicu-ously empty chair. Over the years Skinner had spent a lot of time in this room. Scully and Mulder reported directly to him, and had since they'd been working together.
When he could get away with it, he'd acted as something of a champion for Mulder and Scully. That would be difficult this morning, though, with Mulder absent. Scully crossed and uncrossed her legs, and tried not to glance over her shoulder again at the door.
"Many details are still unclear," said Cassidy. Her cool blue eyes regarded Scully from above a sheaf of papers as she went on point-edly. "Some agents' reports have not been filed, or have come in sketchy, without a satisfactory accounting of the events that led to the destruc-tion in Dallas. But we're under some pressure to give an accurate picture of what happened to the Attorney General, so she can issue a public statement."
And then Scully heard what she'd been waiting for: the muted creak of the door finally opening and a familiar footstep. She turned to see Mulder, his freshly pressed suit jacket doing a poor job of hiding the fact that he wore the same shirt he'd had on yesterday, his face creased with the slightly chagrined expression of a man who knows he's late for his own funeral. Scully didn't dare smile, but she felt her heart lift as Mulder pulled out the chair beside her. He said nothing, acknowledging her with a glance before turning his attention to Cassidy. The keen-eyed lawyer turned and glared sternly at the two of them, and continued before Mulder could sit.
"We know now that five people died in the explosion. Special Agent-in-Charge Darius Mich-aud, who was trying to defuse the bomb that had been hidden inside a vending machine. Three firemen from Dallas, and a young boy."
Mulder's hand froze on the chair in front of him. He looked quickly at Scully, who's raised eyebrow confirmed that this was news to her, too.
"Excuse me—" Mulder shook his head, try-ing to keep his voice even as he questioned Cassidy. "The firemen and the boy—they were in the building?"
Cassidy's cool gaze grew icy. "Agent Mulder, since you weren't able to be on time for this meeting, I'm going to ask you to step back out-side, so that we can get Agent Scully's version of the facts. So that she won't have to be paid the same disrespect that you're showing the rest of us."
Mulder stared her down unflinchingly. "We were told the building was clear."
"You'll get your turn, Agent Mulder." Cassidy's frigid tone held a warning as she ges-tured at the door. "Please step out."
Mulder swallowed, and for first time looked over at the other ADs at the table. The only sympathetic face he found was Skinner's, but Skinner's sympathy was tempered with a warn-ing. The assistant director had been here with Mulder on many occasions, and watched as the younger man inevitably ran up against the Bureau and its stiff conventions. There wasn't much that Skinner could do for Mulder, stuck as he was in the middle of it all; and right now it seemed unlikely that he'd be able to do any-thing at all.
But it was always worth a try. Mulder fought to keep his voice even, and motioned at the binder in front of Jana Cassidy.
"It does say there in your paperwork that Agent Scully and I were the ones who found the bomb…"
Cassidy sternly waved him off. "Thank you, Agent Mulder. We'll call you back in shortly."
Defeated, Mulder slid his chair back and left the room. Scully watched him go. A moment later, Walter Skinner quietly excused himself and followed Mulder into the hallway.
He found the younger agent standing in front of a display case, staring broodingly at the marksmanship trophies inside.
"Sit down," said Skinner, indicating a beige couch beside the case. "It'll be a few minutes. They're still talking to Agent Scully."
Mulder plopped onto the couch, and Skinner joined him. "About what?"
"They're asking her for a narrative. They want to know why she was in the wrong build' ing."
"She was with me."
Skinner studied Mulder, shaking his head. "You don't see what's going on, do you?" he said softly.
"There's forty million dollars in damage to the city of Dallas. Lives have been lost. No sus-pects have been named. So the story being shaped is that this could have been prevented. That the FBI didn't do its job."
Mulder's eyes narrowed. "And they want to blame us?"
"Agent Mulder, we both know that if you and Agent Scully hadn't taken the initiative to search the adjacent building, we could have multiplied those fatalities by a hundred—"
"But it's not the lives we saved." Mulder paused, savoring the irony. "It's the lives we didn't."
Skinner shot him a mirthless smile, and recited the dictum, "If it looks bad, it's bad for the FBI."
Mulder's hand clenched. "If they want someone to blame, they can blame me. Agent Scully doesn't deserve this."
"She's in there right now saying the same thing about you."
Mulder shook his head. "I breached proto-col. I broke contact with the SAC…"
He paused, remembering Michaud's drawn face as he stared at the explosive-rigged vending machine, and blinked painfully at the image. "1—I ignored a primary tactical rule and left him alone with the device…"
"Agent Scully says it was she who ordered you out of the building. That you wanted to go back—"
"Look, she was—"
Before he could on, the door opened. The two men looked up to see Scully exiting. The look she gave Mulder told him that, whatever had happened inside the Professional Review Office, it hadn't gone well. She took a deep breath, then stepped briskly to where the men sat.
"They've asked for you, sir," she said, indi-cating Skinner.
Skinner gave one last look at Mulder. Then he stood and, thanking Scully, returned to the review.
Scully watched the door close behind him, her expression pained. Mulder stared at her and after a moment said, "Whatever you told them in there, you don't have to protect me."
Scully shook her head. "All I told them was the truth." Her deep blue eyes looked wounded, but she avoided his gaze.
"They're trying to divide us on this, Scully." Mulder's voice rose defensively. "We can't let them."
For the first time Scully gazed directly at her partner. "They have divided us, Mulder. They're splitting us up."
On the couch Mulder stared back at her, uncomprehendingly. Finally he said, "What? What are you talking about?"
"I meet with OPR day after tomorrow for remediation and reassignment."
Mulder looked stricken. "Why?"
Sighing, Scully sank onto the couch. "I think you must have an idea. They cited a his-tory of problems relating back to 1993."
"But they were the ones who put us together—" Mulder protested heatedly.