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Mulder, FBI

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Think of it as a 1940's radio show. Sort of along
the lines of Johnny Dollar, Private Investigator.
Can you imagine him talking like one of those
gumshoes?



Rated: G

Category: M POV, Vignette

Spoilers: Almost everything.

Feedback: patfiler2016@outlook.com

Archive: Gossamer. Available only with my
permission.





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When she first walked into the office, I was expecting the
old maid type, with sensible shoes, grey suit and glasses,
a bun in her hair. Well, I was wrong. This dame had
great gams and the warmest smile I've ever seen on a
G-woman. What a shame she was a marker sent from upstairs
to shut me down.

Her handshake was firm, yet soft, and her eyes sparkled
like mother's crystal, so finely polished. That red hair
of hers shone so brightly, even in the dimly lit
basement office.

A couple of years later, I wondered why I had ever wanted
to blow her off, why I ever wanted to work alone. It ain't
always easy on the road, and a gal can get hurt in this
business. But then so can a guy. The night they took her
tore my heart out, and I felt an emptiness in my gut so
bad it was hard to get up in the mornings. Still, I trudged
through this godforsaken country, earning my living and
lookin' for her. She was my sidekick by then, and I hate
losin' to some crazy bunch of dopes in the conspiracy
business.

They brought her back, and the pain went away until... I
saw the miles of tubes, myriad of machines and the
greyness of her once beautiful skin. Gotta hand it to
her. She was a feisty broad, and fought hard for her life.
The doctors and even her family were ready to write her
off, but she came through. How I was pulling for her:
That's what made her come back, and she was holding onto
my belief she could do it.

After five years, I would have climbed every mountain in
the world just to get her a pair of stockings if she asked
me to, and I ended up going to the Antarctic to save her
from one hideous experiment even Orson Welles could never
have dreamed up.

That dame was strong, feisty, argumentative, and pragmatic,
yet she was also warm, considerate, empathetic and
trusting. She gave me reason to go on when the odds were
against me. And damn, she could hold her beer just as well
as I could. One stare from her could make a grown man sit
in the corner begging for mercy, and a few choice words
could send him running for cover. A sly glance could turn
a man's heart to jelly.

A G-woman and lady doctor, highly educated, grounded in
science turned this guy into a marshmallow. And did she ever.

All she did was ask me a favor, and I was there. I offered
to help her have a baby the technological way, and that
failed. After a lot more great adventures, she had my baby.
Then, there came the day we had to both run for our lives.
So, Mulder, FBI, the tough gun who kept losing his gun,
his files, his parents, lost his life for a while, but
gained a son.

Now when I think back on all those years, I figure I ain't
so tough after all. She's my compass, my touchstone. She
keeps me in line, and she keeps me focused.

Can't get rid of me now. She couldn't even get rid of me
when I got on the horn in the middle of the night and
asked, "Ya ever wonder... " My kind of pal.

Sure. I blew her off once in a while out in the field, but
hey, I hadta get my nose into a lead to see if it was
the real McCoy, and sometimes ya just gotta go on the
fly. No time to talk. Besides, couldn't have her gettin'
any more hurt than she already had been.

Yeah, I gotta give her brother Bill some credit. Sometimes I
can be one sorry son of a gun. It comes with the territory
for any FBI agents.

She's my one in five billion, that dame.

Next time, I'll tell ya about one of our case files.
See ya then.

Mulder, FBI.


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Disclaimer: I must give credit to Chris Carter, Ten
Thirteen Productions and Fox Studios. No money made, no
copyright infringement intended.