Title: That Ole Black Magic
Summary: The Lonegunmen find out some more about Diana Fowley and tell Scully.
Author's note: Someone asked me "Vickie, how do you really feel about Diana?" They meant it as a joke, but this is to answer that question. I'm leaving it short of purpose, because I have no desire to dabble in the darker forces. If someone else wants to take up where I leave off, and add a little Mulder hurt/Scully comfort along the way, I will praise you all day long :)
And for those curious souls, yes, I'm still a little miffed, but I'm getting it out of my system <G>
This is a challenge, folks, so begging will not get you anywhere :)
Frohike was leaning so far over Langly's shoulder that he was fogging up the Nirvana groupie's black rimmed glasses.
"She's never gonna buy that crap, and you know it," he hissed in disgust.
Langly shot his co-editor a withering stare. "Look, it's documented. I can show her times, places. Corroborating witnesses. All the stuff she usually jumps all over. Besides, it's not like it's that far fetched an idea, anyway," he muttered as he hit the print icon.
"Mulder sure knows how to pick 'em, don't he?" Frohike chuckled lightly.
"One could include Agent Scully in that description, you know," Byers said from his seat at the table.
Frohike looked offended. "Never! Besides, Mulder didn't pick Agent Scully. He stumbled on he. That was just plain dumb luck that he found someone like her," said the little man, turning away. "Before I did," he whispered, hoping neither of the others would hear the last comment.
They did, but they didn't say anything.
"OK, I got all I'm gonna get. Let's call her up, get her over here," Langly announced, shuffling the papers and straightening them.
Dana Scully's Apartment 9:15 pm
Scully had just hung up her coat and was heading for her bedroom. It had been a long day. When Kersh had agreed to give the X Files back to her and her partner, she'd been overjoyed. It was the best thing that had happened in the months since their return from Antarctica. That was until they got down to the basement.
The files were a mess. Regardless of how highly Mulder thought of Diana Fowley, the woman was not a neat nik. Nor, apparently was the now late Agent Jeffrey Spender. The files were unorganized, some not even in file folders. Scully had found an entire desk drawer filled with autopsy photos. Thankfully, there had been notations on the back of each black and white 8 x 10 glossy giving the case name and the location of the crime scene. She had spent the better part of the day sorting through that drawer and trying to get the wayward photos back into their appropriate file.
In short, she was exhausted and just wanted to make it all the way into her bathroom and spend the next hour soaking in a tub of hot water.
The phone rang as she reached her bedroom door.
She sighed. It was probably Mulder. He knew she was still a little miffed at him, for believing in Diana, for spending most of the day trying to find out where she'd gone after the 'burning' at the El Rico Air Base hanger. Dental records had shown that she was not among the victims. Even Scully had to admit that she didn't hate the woman enough to wish her a fiery death. But Mulder had been a man possessed trying to find her.
She told him off about 3:30, telling him pointedly to suck it up and get back to the task at hand. There was mre than enough work to go around for the both of them. Apparently, when Spender decided that finding a file folder and labeling it was too much of a hassle, he would shred the documents. Mulder was getting pretty good at finding all the right pieces to tape back together. There were two more bags of shredded paper waiting for his 'magic' touch. But Mulder had just glared at her and picked up the phone again calling everyone possible, from the Pentagon down to the ASAC of the anti-terrorism group in charge of Europe looking for Diana. Scully had enough of him and Diana. She was out of the office promptly at 5:00, slamming the door as she left.
Now, in her apartment, the ringing continued. "Talk to the machine, Mulder," she gloated as she slipped into her bedroom and started undressing. With half an ear she listened to the message being received.
"So the old slave driver's got you burning the midnight oil, uh, Agent Scully? Well, when you get home, give us a call. Langly found something that you really need to see. We're up all night, it's a Leave It To Beaver Marathon on TV Land. Just give us a call."
Frohike? OK, sure, she'd been calling the guys more frequently lately, but she hadn't asked them for anything in a few days. She knew of no reason they would be calling her at this hour. And why were they calling her when Mulder had the X Files back? She reversed the process she had just started, and walked back into the living room, dressed and ready for action. She was glad she decided to do so because what Langly told her over the phone had her out the door and down to her car in three minutes flat.
"Now, before we show you any of this, you have to agree to keep an 'open mind'," Langly said nervously, holding the sheaf of papers just out of her reach.
"Hand those pages over, NOW, Langly," Scully growled low with her head down ready to charge.
He handed the pages over without further comment.
Scully read through the first couple of pages and closed her eyes in disgust. "You can't be seriou," she muttered. But rather than handing the pages back, she continued to look through them, even going over to the formica topped kitchenette to sit and sort them out in front of her.
"This is really neat-o keen, guys, but he's never going to buy it," she said tiredly, rubbing her hand over her eyes.
"Of course not, Agent Scully. The man is not himself. She has him . . ." Byers looked over to Frohike.
"The word you're reaching for is 'bewitched'," the little man smiled proudly.
Scully closed her eyes in exasperation. "Guys."
"In every place Diana Fowley lived, there was an active coven of practitioners of black magic. Her phone records show calls made to the head of the covens, as well as other members. Many of those people have since been arrested for 'illegal acts' ranging from animal torture to setting fire to people's houses. There are photographs, taken by Interpol, which show Diana in the company of many of the indicted. Then there's the fact that her neighbors reported her absence on all the pertinent dates--July 31, October 31, . . ."
Scully held up her hand. "I think you've got it wrong, fellas. I work for the FBI, not the Salem Witch Trials. Besides, she might have considered these people to be terrorists. That was her job over there, you know."
Frohike had just about had it. He slammed a meaty fist on the table. "Damn it, Agent Scully, this is serious!" His shout brought all eyes on him. "If it's true, and believe me, I was as skeptical as you are, but if it's true, it explains everything! Mulder hasn't been acting like himself around her since she got back. She's got him under a spell, I know it!"
"And she was his lover for over a year! You told me so yourselves," Scully spat out. "Any spell she's woven has to do with male genitalia, not eye of newt and wart of toad!"
"But that doesn't explain why he would believe her, even in the face of evidence as damning as what we showed him before," Byers pointed out calmly. "He's believing her over you, even."
That cut a bit to deep. Scully's eyes flashed as her cheeks reddened. "He's a red blooded male with a closet full of porn videos and a dusty address book. You do the math," she seethed.
"Well, then that's probably why he took off from the hospital with a gunshot wound to the head to travel 36 hours by air and brave the Antarctic to find you," Frohike shot back, arms crossed in front of him in defiance to her anger. At her startled gasp, he held his hand out, a peace offering. "Here me out, Scully. He loves you. You two are the dumbest people on the planet if you haven't figured that out yet. He would do anything to save you. Other men tell women that they'd go to the ends of the earth for them, Mulder _has_ gone there, for you. He would never go that far for Diana. Hell, when she left him, he didn't even bother to go to the airport."
Byers and Langly's heads shot up and pinned Frohike in their glare. The little man shrugged. "I found out what flight Diana was on when Mulder he found her note back in '92. Thought he should know. I gave him the number. He wadded it up and tossed it in the garbage. When her flight was taking off, he and I were sitting in a bar on Pennsylvania Avenue, working our way through a keg of Miller Lite." Frohike chewed on his lip a moment, hesitant to bring up the subject. "She'll probably kill him when she's done with him."
Scully sat there, silent, taking it all in. It was crazy, but it almost made sense. Mulder had been acting completely out of character. Like he'd become possessed. Could it be true?
Finally she spoke. "What can we do? Even if I believe you, there's nothing we can do, is there?"
"We can figure out how she's doing it. It's probably a spell that can be broken," Langly said softly.
"And if we can't?" Scully asked, lashes holding back her tears.
"I really don't think we can accept that as an outcome," Byers said slowly and the other two men shook their heads in agreement.
"Tell me what to do," Scully said nodding her head with them.
If you want more, take a crack at it yourself ;)
45 to 55 for conviction
Can we go back to just running the country now?