Rated: PG-13 (Language)

Category: Vignette, Angst, UST

Spoiler(s): Aw, come on, this is 2006. Okay, about
mid-series.

Feedback: Warmly welcomed. patfiler2016@outlook.com

Archive: Yes to Gossamer. I'll take care of the rest. Feel
free to ask me, if you want it.



He was tired, his tie was askew, and even the air
felt heavy. As he took the first vacant seat he
could see at the bar, he looked around the room.
*Yeah, definitely a bad business day for accountants
and fibbies. Well, at least the lawyers look pleased
with themselves.* He signaled the bartender.

"Agent Mulder. Long time no serve. So, what's your
pleasure?"

"Well, I'd rather not get into that right now. Just
get me a scotch on the rocks. A double. My psychologist
doesn't understand me."

The bartender grabbed an empty nut dish and replaced
it with a freshly filled bowl. Then, as he poured
the medicinal compound, he asked, "Wanna take it
easy this time, or should I grab your keys now?"

"I'll let you know later. Ever had one of those days
when you feel nothing you've done makes a difference,
even the guy upstairs doesn't understand and you just
wonder why you're here?"

The bartender smiled. "Only when the boss can't make
payday. But then, he comes through for me as usual.
I guess your pockets keep me fed. Was this one
of those days for you?"

Mulder ran his hands over his face and downed the
whiskey. "Oh yeah. One of those 'damn I forgot to
kiss all the asses and kowtow to the man' days."

"Yeah, well, everybody has one of those days. What's
wrong? Feel like the fifth wheel or redundant cog
in the machine?"

"No. Well, maybe both. No. I think today I feel like
one of those science fiction characters who discovers
nothing he writes gets on paper, his hands pass through
matter as he reaches for the buttons on the console
and he gets marooned on The Planet of the Galactic
Rejects." Mulder looked around and saw that Skinner
had just walked in, oblivious to the sight of Mulder
hunched over the bar. "Give me another. I need something
to kill the pain."

"Coming up. But maybe you oughta see a doctor. Where's
the pain?"

He pointed to Skinner. "Over there. Believe me, I've
seen my doctor and she can't do a thing for me right
now. She's probably drowning her sorrows in a hot bath
and I don't think she's feeling that great either."


"Here ya go. Sounds like two little fibbies got sent
to a time out."

"Something like that. Went outta town on a tip and came
back with no rhyme, reason or case. But we did bring
home a considerable amount of Minnesota mud." He held
up his trench coat.

"I can see that." The bartender heard someone call out
from the other end of the bar and went to serve two
women. Actually they were two hot, sexy and overly
made-up women. Call girls, he figured. Probably waiting
for their clients.

"Yoo-hoo, sexy boy! Need a date?" The brunette shouted.

Mulder just shook his head and downed the scotch. He was
beginning to feel the effects of his pain killer. That
is, until he saw Cancerman take a seat beside Skinner.
"The things you see when you've lost your gun," Mulder
muttered.

"Barkeep! Still thirsty here!"

The man rushed back and filled another glass. "Agent
Mulder, whatever's bugging you, I think I'm gonna cut
you off after this one."

Mulder had to chuckle. "Aw... Now see, that's why you
don't get your pay on time. I'm keeping you fed and
clothed and you cut guys like me off." He turned and
pointed toward Skinner and the CSM, sitting at a small
table across the room. "Now don't they make a great
pair? Well, go right ahead and think so. See, I figure
the glasses guy is saving our asses as well as keeping
that guy happy."

"They're an item?"

"Oh. Uh, no. Skinner's married. To a woman," Mulder
whispered low. "No, I think that guy pulls his strings,
because every time... " He was beginning to slur his
words. "Every time Scully and me make any headway, he's
in Skinner's face and his office. And he doesn't even
work there."

"Where does he work?"

"Somewhere in hell. I think he lives in a subdivision
of hell as well, and you kn... "

"Mulder, pay the man and let's get out of here." The
voice was unmistakably Scully's, and in his state of
mind, he thought turning on the charm might get her to
be a little more understanding than she was looking at
that particular moment.

He wheeled around and nearly fell off of the bar stool at
the sound of her voice. "Hey, Scul-- I was just thinking
about you. And may I say you look lovely tonight in that
sweatshirt and those jeans."

"No, I don't think you 'may' say anything right now,
Mulder." Scully stared at him in stone cold silence until
he reached into his pocket and took money out of his
wallet. "Move it."

"Thanks. Your taxpayers' money at work." Mulder turned to
Scully. "Are we angry at someone?" he asked in a child-
like tone.

"That's my cue to mind my own business," the bartender
said with a smile, taking the money and walking away.

"No, just watching your back." She tugged at his sleeve
and as he stood she warned him, "You know you can't talk
shop here. Especially here of all places. And that talk
wasn't the kind of talk that gets you anywhere right now.
I'm taking you home." She glanced at Skinner and he
nodded when the Cigarette Smoking Man wasn't looking.

Mulder staggered slightly as Scully helped him out of the
bar. "Mine or yours?"

"Yours. Then you'll sleep it off and we'll discuss this
tomorrow. I don't care whether you have a headache or an
upset stomach. What I do care about is you, Mulder. You
can't say all those things and I won't let you ruin your
career or mine. Now, get in the car, and I'll drive you
home. You'd better damn well be ready to go to work when
I pick you up in the morning."

As soon as Mulder was in the car, he passed out. Scully
just shook her head, fastened his seat belt and turned
the ignition key. As she glanced at the rear view mirror,
she whispered to herself, "Whether you know it or not,
in many ways. I believe. Tomorrow, we'll talk about it.
I promise I'll keep it calm and quiet."

She patted Mulder's back and pulled out into traffic,
knowing that her partner would be suffering in the
morning, but she also knew they could get through
anything. Together.


END