Fletcher2: Rollercoaster 
By: Dana Starbuck
Feedback: dks_starbuck@yahoo.com
Disclaimers:  See Chapter 1
WARNING:  The next few chapters contain some violence and "ick".
THANKS:  Once again, big thanks to Athos, Selena & Rad (welcome back, Rad).
 Your help, feedback, patience and friendship is greatly appreciated.  I
can't do it without you.  And a special thanks to my cyberbro deejay. 
Words can't express my thanks and gratitude.


<<Chapter 17>>

Sunday, December 6th, 6:00 AM

Scully quickly shut the alarm off.  Fletcher hardly stirred.  <She sleeps
so soundly.  I'm so glad she hasn't had any more of those - what does
Mulder call them - 'walkabouts'?>  She curled her body around Fletcher's. 
<Who'd have thought that waking up beside someone could feel so nice, so
_right_?>

"Fletcher?" she said gently.  "Fletcher, I'm getting up now."

"Now?  So soon?" she groaned, turning over.  "Can't you stay in bed a
little longer?"

"Well, you _could_ try a little gentle persuasion," she suggested, kissing
Fletcher's forehead, then her nose, then her lips.  "I'm sure I'd be open
to that."

"I like the sound of that," Fletcher said, grinning happily as she gently
tugged Scully into her arms.  She hugged Scully close, then kissed her. 
"Red, last night, yesterday, hell, the whole fucking weekend, has been so
wonderful."

"It's been pretty spectacular for me, especially when we started it out
with a bang," she smiled coyly, "so to speak."  

"Think we can end the weekend with a 'bang'?"

"I don't think we'll have any trouble seeing fireworks tonight."

"How 'bout some this morning?" Fletcher rolled them both over, laying her
body on top of Scully's, her hips beginning to thrust in the familiar
rhythm that Scully had come to know and love.  "I'm sure your mother would
get a kick out of seeing her daughter with that well-fucked look on her
face again."

"What?  What do you mean, 'again'?"

"Red, yesterday morning, when you came back after answering the door...if
anyone ever was sporting a well-fucked look, it was you."

"Oh, God," she groaned.  "Do you think she could tell?  Really?"

"Well, we could always try again this morning and see if she notices,"
Fletcher suggested with a smirk.

"I don't think so," Scully said, trying to wiggle her way out from
underneath Fletcher, but her efforts were only half-hearted.  She slid her
hands down Fletcher's back, her hands on her hips, urging Fletcher.

"Are you sure we have time, Scully?"

"We'll make the time," she replied, kissing Fletcher hard on the lips.



Sunday, 12:50 PM

<This hasn't been too bad,> Scully thought as she walked beside her mother
on the way to the restaurant.  <She hasn't asked one prying question. 
That's a little unusual, but she doesn't act like she even wants to,
either.  She's been content just to talk about the family and Christmas
presents.  She hasn't asked me once about work.  I don't know if I should
be relieved or worried.>

Ruby Tuesday's sat on the lower level of the mall, right next to Macy's. 
It had the common failing new restaurants had of thinking Tiffany lamps,
70s music, and posters from long-forgotten movies added up to Atmosphere. 
But the food was both good and reasonably priced, and it had a great salad
bar, always a plus in Scully's estimation.  Scully and Maggie paused at the
entrance.  The hostess station was empty.  "They're not here yet," Scully
said, her eyes scanning the booths.

"We're a little early."

"Or Mulder's a little late, as usual."

"I'm sure you're used to that by now, Dana."

"I'm used to it, but it doesn't mean I like it."

Again, Scully noticed a peculiar, almost secretive smile on her mother's
face.  <What is going on?  Why is she smiling like that?  It's driving me
crazy.>

"Can I help you?" The hostess had returned, interrupting Scully's thoughts.

"Yes, we'd like a table for four.  We've got two friends meeting us, but
they haven't shown up yet."

"No problem," said the hostess, who couldn't have been more than twenty.
"I've got a table in sight of the door. Right this way, please."

She followed her mother to the booth.  It was on the opposite side of the
restaurant, but it had a clear shot at the door.  She sat down beside her
mother and accepted a menu.

"Do you have much more shopping to do, Dana?"

"I've got two more people to shop for."

"Is Fox one of them?"  

<There's that smile again,> Scully thought.  "Yes.  He's so impossible to
shop for.  I never know if he's going to give me a serious present or a
joke gift.  I always end up guessing wrong and giving him something totally
inappropriate."

"I'm sure whatever you give him, he'll like it just fine," Maggie
commented, spreading her napkin on her lap.

"There they are," she said, spotting Fletcher and Mulder.  Mulder was
wearing his black leather coat, Fletcher was in her brown leather one. 
Both were wearing jeans and sweaters, and she could just make out the
outline of Fletcher's gun hanging from her shoulder harness.  <I love her
so much,> Scully thought suddenly.  <Easy.  Don't stare too much at
Fletcher,> she warned herself as she realized she was smiling broadly. 
<Don't make it obvious.  As far as Mom is concerned, Fletcher's a friend, a
co-worker.>  

<Dana's got such a smile on her face,> Maggie thought, as she watched
Scully watch her friends.  <She looks so happy.>  A warmth filled Maggie's
heart.  <Finally.  Dana's finally got some happiness in her life.  I'm just
surprised it's taken her – them – this long.>

Mulder greeted Maggie Scully warmly, a quick hug and a quick peck on the
cheek.  Fletcher hung back, an almost shy look on her face.

"Mrs. Scully, this is a good friend of mine, a co-worker, Fletcher
Buchanan.  Fletcher, Mrs. Scully."

"How do you do?" Fletcher said, softly, politely, her hand extended for a
handshake.

<What an unusual looking woman.  Kind of masculine looking, even,> Maggie
Scully thought, shaking her hand.  <And her eyes.  They're so blue and so
intense.  I'd swear she was wearing contacts if she wasn't already wearing
glasses.>  She looked again at Fletcher.  Something about her looked
familiar, but Maggie couldn't quite place it.

Mulder sat down next to Maggie, his manner almost taking on a little boy
persona.  Fletcher sat in the only seat available, next to Scully.  She sat
stiffly, her posture formal.  <She's nervous,> Scully thought.  <She's not
comfortable with this at all.>

"How's the shopping been?" Scully asked.  "Any luck?"

"Some," Fletcher allowed. "How about you two?"

"We've made some progress."

"How have you been, Fox?  I haven't seen you in quite some time," Maggie
said, turning her attention to Mulder.

"Fine, thank you.  I've been very busy with work.  Did Scully tell you
we've been transferred again?"

"Yes.  What a horrible drive it must be for both of you."

"It's not too bad," Mulder explained, taking a sip from his water glass. 
"I stay at Fletcher's.  She only lives about twenty miles from Quantico."

<Now I'm confused.  Is Fox dating Fletcher?  She doesn't seem his type at
all.  She doesn't seem _any_ man's type.>  She picked up her glass.  <But
if he is, then who was in Dana's room Friday night?>

"Do you work at Quantico as well?" she asked Fletcher.

"Yes, ma'am.  I'm the Assistant Unit Chief of the Department."

Maggie hid her surprise very badly. "So you're their boss."

Fletcher gave an embarrassed shrug. "Technically speaking, yes."

"And how long have you known Fox?"

<Stop grilling her, Mom> Scully thought.  She nonchalantly dropped her hand
to her lap, then carefully placed it on Fletcher's thigh.  Except for the
sudden, slight twitch beneath her hand, Scully could detect no other signs
on Fletcher's face.

"I've known Mulder for what - ten years now?" she said, looking at Mulder.

"Something like that.  We worked in ISU together before I took over the
X-Files," he explained.

<So they're just friends,> Maggie thought, her hopes for Fox and Dana
returning.

"Hi, there, folks," the waitress interrupted.  "I'm Trish, I'll be your
server. What can I get you?"

- - - - -

Throughout the meal, Maggie had carefully watched her daughter and Mulder
interact.  She couldn't perceive any difference in their relationship.  If
anything, Dana had spent more time talking with Fletcher than with Mulder. 
<I was sure they had finally taken the step and become a couple, but
now...I'm not so sure.>  She was almost saddened by the thought.

"Will you be joining us for Christmas this year, Fox?" Maggie asked,
reaching for her coffee cup.

"I, um, I," he stammered, looking first at Scully, then Fletcher.

"It wouldn't be the same without you.  Unless you have other plans."

"No, no, I don't have any plans yet."

"Then you must join us.  I won't take 'no' for an answer."

Mulder knew he was trapped.  He looked again at Scully for some help, but
she only smiled at him.  "I'd love to," he finally said.

"Good."

Maggie went to pat him on the hand but her arm slipped, and she knocked her
spoon to the floor.  She reached down under the table to pick it up.  She
lifted her head and realized she was looking directly at Fletcher's feet. 
It suddenly occurred to her that she'd seen Fletcher's boots before - in
Dana's apartment.  <The leather coat I saw at Dana's.  Fletcher's wearing
that, too.  But how could?... Unless... Oh, no. No. No, it can't be. 
That's silly.  That's...>

She sat up, her mouth tight, her face white.  In an instant, all of her
plans for her daughter and Mulder were gone.  Maggie felt as if someone had
torn a hole in her heart.

Scully put her hand on her mother's arm. "Are you okay, Mom?"

"I'm fine.  Why do you ask?"

"You're so pale all of a sudden."

"I must have sat up too fast," she said tonelessly.

Fletcher looked carefully at Mrs. Scully.  <She knows.  I don't know how,
but she knows.  And it's not good.  She looks like she's seen a ghost.> 
She looked at Mulder out of the corner of her eye.  He noticed the change
in Maggie, but hadn't a clue as to what had caused it.

"Can I get you anything, Mrs. Scully?" Fletcher asked.

"No, no, I'm fine," she said quickly, too quickly.

Fletcher felt a familiar vibration against her hip and looked down at her
pager.  <I don't know if I should glad it's going off or not.>  She
gracefully stood up.  "Excuse me.  I have to make a phone call.  My pager
just went off."

"Do you need me, Fletcher?" Mulder asked.

"Not right now. I'll know more when I come back."

She apologized again, then went out into the mall to use her cell phone. 
"This is Agent Buchanan.  I was just paged...Yes, I'll hold...Roy, it's
me."

"What's the phrase nowadays," Roy Tupper, her immediate superior, asked.
"'You've got mail?'" The connection was crackly, the signal broken up by
the mall's steel structure.

"Don't tell me you haven't got AOL, Roy," Fletcher joked. "All the _cool_
kids do."

"My secretary handles all my email," Tupper informed her.  "I look at
computers too damn much as it is.  This is actual paper-driven,
pen-written, post-office-delivered mail we're talking about."  His voice
had become serious.

"Fan mail from some flounder?"  She wasn't as buoyant as she had been a
moment ago. <I have a bad feeling about this...>

"Close."  He paused.  "Your boy's got himself a pen pal."

Fletcher went cold. "New Jersey?"

"He refers to himself as 'Algernon', like the lab rat in that short story. 
He sent a letter to a columnist on one of the New York tabs, and he
included serious detail about the crime scenes, including everything we've
held back. It's the real deal."

"Jesus Christ," she breathed. <What kind of serial killer calls himself
'Algernon',> the satiric part of her asked.  <The same kind that called
himself 'Son of Sam'.  Hell, writing one of the tabs is right out of Sam's
playbook.> "The paper holding onto it?"

"Not without a lecture on Freedom of the Press and The Public's Right To
Know. I know _I_ was edified."  When he was in the mood, Tupper could lay
the sarcasm on with a trowel.  "We negotiated them down to keeping it on
ice for seventy-two hours.  After that, it's open season."

"Peachy."  <We've been working this case for _weeks_! Now I've only got
three days? 'Hey, Rocky! Watch me pull a rabbit out of my ass...'>

"There's more."  Tupper paused.  "He mentions you in the letter."

If she was cold before, she was frozen now. "Me _personally_?"

"Not by name, but there's a passage in the note about 'the skinny alien
with glasses who keeps stepping all over my art work.'"

"Fuck!"  Her exclamation made several passersby give her a sidelong glance.
"He's been watching us work the scenes!"  <Shit, he hasn't just escalated. 
He's _mutated_!>

"The little bastard's getting cocky," Tupper agreed. "I've got a crash
briefing set up for four o'clock.  Crocker's flying down from New York with
the letter. Can you rustle up Mulder?  He's not in the office, and I still
don't have his cell phone number."

"I'll find him," Fletcher assured him.  "We'll be there."  She snapped her
phone off. <Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, FUCK!>

Mulder and Scully were talking about something when Fletcher returned to
the booth.  Maggie Scully was silent, and still very pale.  Fletcher leaned
over and whispered into Mulder's ear.  "We've got to leave.  We need to be
in Quantico for an emergency meeting."

"What's up?" he asked, rising out of his chair. 

"I'll explain it to you later."  Fletcher turned to Maggie and Scully. 
"Excuse us.  We've got to leave right now.  Duty calls."

"Of course," Maggie said, a slight fluting tone to her voice. "We
understand."

"Do you need me?" Scully asked, switching to Professional Mode.

<Boy, do I.>  "No, Gabe's been riding point on this one.  If he needs help,
he'll holler, don't worry.  Besides, this isn't about forensics."

"Let me know how it goes."  <She actually looks frazzled.  I wonder what
the call was about?>

Fletcher was frazzled, all right, and not just about the man she now knew
as Algernon.  <I don't want to leave like this,> Fletcher thought.  <I
can't leave Scully knowing that her mother _knows_.  She's bound to say
something to Scully.>  She tossed some money on the table.  <And I can't
even say goodbye to Scully, can't even tell her that I'll call her when I
have a chance.>

"We'll be in touch," Fletcher said, hoping Scully understood the meaning
behind her words.  "I don't think the meeting will go much past six or
six-thirty."

Mulder quickly realized that Fletcher was trying to pass a message on to
Scully without being too obvious.  "We'll grab dinner at Fletcher's," he
added.

Scully nodded as she watched them hurry out of the restaurant.  She waited
a moment before turning her attention back to her mother.  Maggie Scully
was still pale, and hadn't said much before or after Fletcher had left to
make her phone call.

"Mom, what's wrong?" Scully asked.

Her tone lacked all color.  "When were you planning on telling me, Dana?"

"Tell you what?"

"Or were you _ever_ going to tell me?"

"What are you talking about?"

"You...You're...I can't..."  Maggie Scully almost choked on her words,
unable to form sentences, unable to meet her daughter's eyes.  She leaned
forward, her voice a whisper now. "Dana, _how_?"  She swallowed.  It didn't
help the rasp in her voice. "_Why_?"

<Oh, God, she knows.  How?>  Scully closed her eyes and turned away.

-end-