::  Little Voices  :: 

Dana Scully hated stakeouts. Of course, normally she was crowded into a debris-strewn alley or stuck in a car with an obnoxious partner. Now she was comfortably ensconced in a furnished apartment that shared an alley with some of the swankier townhouses of Alexandria. It overlooked the back of the residence of the poor State Department bureaucrat who had made the mistake of being seen passing documents to Gregor Baskov, the top spymaster of the former Soviet Union and the ‘New’ Russia, at the Metro Lounge. Being seen by someone who recognized him. Alvin Kersh, who had been at the Metro with his elite team of agents, ala J. Edgar Hoover, to be photographed arresting Baskov, had quickly called off the arrest. "That’s the Special Assistant to the Secretary of State – I want him."

Special Agent Tina Miller had told her all this after the briefing for the case that had finally gotten Scully off fertilizer detail. Mulder was still doing background checks on new agents out in Oregon and Scully thought, not for the first time that he had gotten the better deal, once again. Scully and Miller shared the detail to watch the poor schmuck who had some how managed to incur Kersh’s wrath. Sigh, the enemy of my enemy, sorry fella. It was a cushy detail as such boring details went and she was really surprised that Kersh had assigned her to the plush $2000/month apartment. The windows on the wall not facing back were open and the May breeze rattled the blinds and wafted in the scent of spring flowers into the comfortable bedroom.

The equipment was excellent, as befitted AD Kersh’s pet project. The cone mike picked up the ping of an acorn as it hit the multi-level deck. The lens of the high-powered camera allowed her to make out the nick on his neck from where the razor cut a little too close, the green in his eyes when he turned just right. He wasn’t a bad looking man, a bit prissy and up tight, but the soft brown hair with the beginnings of a widow’s peak was carefully groomed. The hearing aid so small she didn’t even notice it until last night when the last rays of the setting sun struck it as he was going back into the house. The three-piece suit must have cost a couple of grand.

"You must be dirty. How else can you explain the town house that had to cost two and half, the two-seater Mercedes. Shit! You are such an idiot to flaunt it like that." She muttered. Of course, they weren’t any closer to getting anything on him than they were three days ago. For three days the man rose promptly at 6:00 AM, did twenty minutes on the Bow-flex before stripping and going into take his shower. The first day the blinds had been drawn and she and Tina could only guess at his activities. After that for some reason, he had forgotten to draw the shades and they had been treated to a very nice little show. Who would have thought those suits were hiding that body? Damn he wasn’t bad at all. By 6:45 he was dressed, making coffee and then sitting on the deck reading the paper until he entered his garage and drove off to the State Department promptly at 7:15. Two cars of two agents each followed him to work and home. He left the office promptly at 5:00 and no one ever saw him leave for lunch. Kersh was quietly working on getting an agent in place inside of State. Good Luck, you bastard. Dana was developing a decidedly unprofessional camaraderie for a man she was likely never to meet; whose name she hadn’t even learned until yesterday. Not that it made a difference. She would do her job and put the probable traitor behind bars where he probably did belong.

She looked behind her and wondered if Tina was ever going to return with lunch. Normally, they would be back at the Hoover doing paperwork waiting for the evening shift to begin but he had only gone into the office for a few hours this fine Saturday morning; Kersh had found her at her station and ordered her back on duty. "I’ll track down Miller and have her join you." He snapped rudely.

She wasn’t surprised that he came out onto the deck, he usually did for a few hours every evening, sometimes grilling his dinner on the large stone barbecue. Carefully positioning his chair almost like he was posing for her, he took out a file from his briefcase to study it. Scully knew that Kersh was applying for search warrants but Scully thought it was all rather premature. She wasn’t privy to any of the other information that was being gathered. But she was used to being kept in the dark.

"We’ve got company, people." The two-way sputtered. "Hot number. Hey, Colton check her out."

"Jesus, Fuller, you are such an ass." She ground out as she picked up her two-way to hiss, "Hey knock off the chatter. I’m less than fifty yards away."

"Yeah, yeah, Scully." Colton snarled. "Hey, she’s going around back. You got her yet, Scully?"

"No….Wait." She heard loud pounding at the side gate.

"Go away!" The man shouted. It was the first time she had actually heard his voice. For some reason the cone mike couldn’t pick up sounds inside the house. Kersh was yelling at the techies about that now.

"Open up, damn you, Webb!" The strong firm feminine voice yelled back.

"I’ve got nothing for you, Mac." Clayton Webb threw down his papers, then grabbed them before they blew off the table and jammed them into the brief case.

"You son-of-a-bitch. You know where he’s at." The voice rose and Scully watched in amusement as Webb looked at his neighbors’ houses. "Not real bright are you Mr. Webb, not bothering to look over here." She chortled. Not that the sheers didn’t hide her and the equipment, but he had never once glanced up at the house directly across from his back yard.

Angrily Webb rose from his chair and stomped down a level and yanked opened the gate. "Mac, damn it, go home." He pleaded wearily.

Scully gasped, leave it to Colton to not bother to tell her that the ‘hot number’ happened to be a US Marine Major. Of course with that figure and those legs Scully was surprised that Colton had remembered how to use the radio. Scully knew that she was cute, but damn to be tall and leggy like that. The woman, Mac, didn’t even have to tilt her head to look Webb in the eye. Scully began to snap her pictures.

"Why won’t you tell me?" The Marine snarled at she pushed past Webb and stomped up the stairs.

"Because it is none of your business." He replied, the weary tone held just a hint of humor.

"None of my business, he’s my partner!" Scully had to turn down the volume and once again Webb glanced at his neighbors houses.

"That’s right."

"You bastard. You send him on a mission…"

Webb grabbed the Marine’s arm roughly. "What your mouth, Major MacKenzie."

"What the hell?" Scully stared at the pair. "Mission?"

"Oh, excuse me!" MacKenzie purred dangerously. "Mustn’t let…"

"Go home, Mac. It wasn’t me. What makes you think it was?"

Scully stared at the tape recorder. The alarm bells in her head so loud she almost thought he could hear them.

"He told me he was going overseas because there aren’t any cases at JAG right now. Harm’s in trouble. I just know it." The anger had been replaced by a kind of reasoning pleading that suddenly sounded familiar.

"So it had to be me? Go to hell, Major." Scully put her eye to the camera and carefully studied the pair. In the three days that she had studied Clayton Webb she had come to view him as little more than a minor governmental functionary with access to important State Department documents. She had never seen an expression on his face other than boredom or intense concentration as he sat reading reports on the deck or an almost wry amusement as he showered or worked out. The look on his face now was one of intense anger. She had seen that look before but couldn’t quit remember where or on whom. But, it was close. She almost had it when the woman completely threw Scully for a loop.

"Please, Clay." If the cone mike hadn’t been the best, Scully would have missed the whisper.

"Oh boy." Scully’s eyes grew wide as Major MacKenzie walked up to within inches of Webb. Scully could see the shock in Webb’s eyes and something else. Pain and sorrow. She knew that look well. It had been the look that Skinner always wore when she asked him to help her find her errant partner. Only, until this moment, she’d never put the emotions to it. It had always just been his ‘what the hell do you want from me now look.’

"Please, Clay. Tell me." The tone made Scully wince. She had never used that tone with Skinner. Always she had demanded, never, well hardly ever, had she begged. She sucked in a gasped breath as Mac ran her hand up the lapel of his suit.

It was then that it all fell into place for Scully. He’s in love with her! The hurt in his eyes had to be evident even to the Marine because she hastily stepped back. "I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have done that."

"You’re right, you shouldn’t have." The voice was ragged. "Look, Mac. I know where he is, what he’s doing and whom he’s doing it with. You’re not going to be happy until you know. You are going to be more unhappy once you do know."

"I have to know. He’s in trouble, I can feel it." The wail brought a blush to Scully’s cheeks. She knew exactly what the woman was going through, she had done the same thing so many times with Skinner. But Skinner was her boss, who the hell was Clayton Webb to Major MacKenzie. Damn, they would have to check her out too and Scully knew in her heart that this had nothing to do with espionage. This was more high soap opera than high treason. This was so very familiar.

The anger exploded Webb’s mask and he grabbed the Major by her shoulders. "Fine, I’ll tell you. When he’s drummed out of the Navy because you did ask and I did tell, you can hold me responsible. Its all my fault somehow anyway isn’t it, Mac?"

"What the hell are you talking about?" Shock, rage and fear spread on her face. "You low-life, motherfucking spy!"

"Whatever I am, Major, I manage to keep secrets from most people." His voice dropped but the tape picked it up anyway. "Except from you. You’re a good lawyer, Mac. I wonder how good a friend you will be?" He walked over to the table and pulled out a piece of paper. Writing quickly he handed it to her. "Read this and don’t say a damn thing." He waited while she read it and then walked over to the pit, put it on the grate, struck a match to it and watched it curl. When it was completely blackened, he stirred it to ashes that no one would ever be able to reconstruct.

"You know we’re here! You’ve known for days! Who the hell are you, Clayton Webb?"

She whispered to herself.

"Now, Sarah, go. Please. Oh and Sarah, when you find him. Ask him not to come and break my nose. AJ beat him to it in Russia, remember."

Scully watched him watch her walk away and her heart broke for the man so thoroughly in love with a woman in love with someone else. The door to the apartment opened. "’bout time you got here with my lunch. Or should I say dinner, Agent Miller." She called out softly. She wasn’t paying much attention to her current partner. She was still watching Webb, who obviously was something more than a special assistant to anybody. He disappeared inside with his brief case but returned with a small heavy glass, the amber liquid sparkling in the afternoon sun. And he sat and waited. Scully felt the presence behind her and she stiffened. And then as his scent reached her she relaxed for a moment and then stiffened again. What the hell is he doing here? He’s not supposed to come anywhere near us! Is something wrong with Mulder? Before Skinner could say anything though, the cone mike picked up the shrill brrrr of the cell phone lying on the table in front of Webb. Staring at it through three rings he finally reached for the instrument and picked it up. "Hello?"

Scully watched in fascination as amusement replaced the grim countenance that had aged his face ever since the Marine Major had ran out. Even before he hung up the phone and finally looked up at the window he had studiously ignored for three days, she laughed out loud.

"What?" The low growl behind her sent an unfamiliar pulse through her. Or perhaps not unfamiliar just unrecognized.

"Sssh. I owe him this." She whispered.

"Yes you do, Agent Scully." The cone mike’s speaker whispered back.

"What the hell." Skinner gasped.

"Who’s that, Dana?" The purr demanded.

"A friend, Mr. Webb." Dana smiled up at Skinner and saw the tired suspicious look in his eyes.

"A good friend, Dana?" Almost involuntarily Skinner’s hand gripped her shoulder.

"Yes, Mr. Webb. A very good friend." She finally admitted to herself.

"Good. Don’t fuck it up, Dana." The whispered response echoed through the room.

"How about you, Clayton Webb?"

The sigh filled the room and broke her heart. "Never gonna happen, Dana."

"Then you, sir, are a fool."

A short bark of laughter was her answer followed by a gleeful, "but not as big a fool as your Mr. Kersh. He won’t be giving you much trouble for a few days at least, he has bigger concerns for a while." Webb stood up, clutching his glass and phone.

"Good." She watched him approach the door. "Where are you going, Clayton?"

"Why, Dana? Would you like to have dinner?" He didn’t even bother to look up at the window.

The hand on her shoulder tightened and she stuttered. "Ah…I don’t think so, Clayton. But I suspect you’ll have a chance to offer a strong shoulder to cry on later."

"Nah, I don’t think I want it that way, Dana." He stepped into the house, the door still open but static marred the reception.

"She might need a friend." Dana insisted.

"Yeah, but that would not be me."

"You never know, Webb. Damn it." Her eyes stung from the unshed tears.

"Good bye, Agent Scully." The static grew and then the signal died as he closed the door. The cone mike ordinarily should have picked up the signal easily through the glass.

Skinner turned her around. "What the hell was going on here, Scully?" He growled angrily, but she ignored the tone and heard the concern, fear and jealousy in his voice.

"Who is he, Skinner?" She wished, for a second, she could see his eyes without have to stretch her neck.

A wolfish grin replaced the stony façade. "Mr. Clayton Webb, Special Agent to the Secretary of State is actually Mr. Clayton Webb, Central Intelligence Agency. Evidently the Director was on the phone all morning being asked to explain why the FBI was so flagrantly trying to ruin the delicate handling of a long time double-agent by one of their top men." The grin grew and he didn’t seem to notice just how close they were standing. "I understand that Alvin is in major, hip-deep shit right now. I heard phrases like ‘keystone-cops’ and ‘we don’t need this shit right now, AD Kersh.’ And my personal favorite, ‘if you are having that much trouble figuring out who the good guys are, then perhaps you have too much and too many agents on your plate right now, Mr. Kersh.’

Her eyes sparkled. "You think you can get us back the X-Files?"

His face fell and the look returned. The look she had seen for over four years now, the look she had just seen on Webb’s face. He turned away from her. "I don’t know, Scully." He ran his hand over his jaw. "Look, I’m only here because Kersh is getting his ass reamed and I was the only other AD stupid enough to be working on a beautiful Saturday. Freeh sent me out to round everyone up as quietly as possible. I caught Miller downstairs, now I have to go and roust Frick and Frack." Seldom did she ever hear anything derogatory about any agent from Skinner, but everyone knew of his intense dislike of Colton and Fuller. Hell, she couldn’t think of anyone in the Hoover who did like Colton and Fuller.

"Sure, sir. No problem. Uhm…who’s going to see that this stuff gets back to the Hoover? I walked over from my place." She looked around at all the equipment.

"Well I guess that would be me, wouldn’t it." He sighed. "Look, let me go finish rounding everyone up and I’ll come back for it. You don’t have to wait."

Pointing to her two-way she questioned, "Why don’t you just call everyone?"

Skinner looked around the room. "How did he know what you were saying Scully? The Director doesn’t want our ignoble retreat saved for posterity anymore than it already will be."

Her perfect mouth formed a perfect ‘O’ and he had to fight the urge to kiss her. She saw that too and wondered why she had missed the signs for so long. Blushing, she turned toward the equipment. "I’ll have this cleaned up by the time you get back, sir."

She watched him walk through the door, slamming it behind him.

Sighing, she started to disassemble the camera. "You were saying, Dana?" She jumped at the sound of his voice. Stepping to the window she pushed back the drapes to find him sitting back in the patio chair. Even without the camera lens she could see the smile. Have you ever shown ‘her’ that smile, Mr. Webb.

"Saying about what?"

His soft snort hovered between them.

"He’s my…."

"Not anymore, at least for a while, Dana."

"Damn you, how do you know so much."

"Hey, you need to know your enemies, Agent Scully. A skill you and that fruitcake former partner of yours really need to cultivate." He raised the glass to his lips. "And it wouldn’t hurt to know your friends."

"So what am I?"

"You, Dana? You were a wonderful diversion while I figured out what was going on."

"How long, Mr. Webb?"

"How long did it take me to figure out I was being tailed? Christ, your people are pathetic. I spotted them in the restaurant when I was giving Baskov the passports for his grandchildren. I led them on a lovely tour of the southeast side ghetto. Once I had the license plates traced I went home and the next day we finally figured out what was going on. Another dark day for the FBI. I knew immediately that you guys would use the apartment. Hell, I might have too. So I’ve been entertained by you and the lovely Agent Miller’s satirical comments on my physique for three days now. You two really are wonderful for a guy’s ego, you know that, Dana."

"Terrific." She wondered if he could see the bright blush on her face. Tina had been extremely detailed, if not downright risqué in her critique of the man working out on the weight machine.

"Ah…Dana?"

"Yes, Clayton?"

"The recording from today?"

She smiled wickedly. "The tape, Clayton? There really isn’t much there you know."

"Dana, please." There was a treble to his voice that wiped the grin off her face. She turned toward the machine recording the cone mike’s pickup, took out the CD-R and walked back to the window. Opening the window, she leaned out and tossed it like a Frisbee across the alley. It skimmed over the small cherry tree growing near the fence and landed on the deck, not three feet from his chair. "Jesus Christ." The panic was evident. "What if the wind would have picked it up and carried it."

"Ah come on Webb, you know the way those things scratch and warp."

He rose and started to kneel down to pick it up but instead he ground his heel into it, shattering it into a thousand pieces. Shattering the evidence of the chink to his armor. "Thank you."

"You’re welcome."

"You sure you don’t want to have dinner with me tonight?" He meant it this time.

The sadness in his voice wouldn’t have been evident to anyone who hadn’t witness the scene between him and Major MacKenzie. Briskly, she turned around and finished packing away the camera. "No Clayton, but thank you." She shut off the machine and started to gather the wires of the cone mike. She really didn’t want to disconnect from the CIA agent but Skinner would be back soon. She knew there was little she could do about Webb’s unhappiness, but she could solve her own problem - if she had the courage. "Clayton?"

"Yes, Dana?"

"Where are they?"

"What?"

"Come on Mr. Webb, I gave you yours now it’s your turn. Where are the bugs? I can’t imagine why you would keep the nonsense between me and Agent Miller, but since we were talking about you, do with them as you like, but I want the bugs."

The deep sigh washed over her. "Fine. See the leather chair in the front room?"

"Yes"

"Third nail down the right arm."

"Got it." She called from the living room.

"The light switches in the all the rooms."

"Shit, I have to get a screwdriver." She diligently pulled every tiny listening device. "Jeez, Webb, you guys went for the overkill didn’t you?"

"Hey, I was bored and I had them."

"Where’s the last one?"

"I’ll tell you on one condition."

"What?" She snapped. "Condition?"

"Yeah. Talk to me until he comes back."

Oh God. Tears started to form in her eyes. "I’ll talk to you until I get everything packed up but the cone, but then I have to know. Not that it matters. He doesn’t want me here when he comes back."

"Bullshit. Yes he does and you’re going to be there, waiting for him. And if I can hazard a guess that bed is going to get a workout tonight. I am very good at my job, Agent Scully and I was able to find out a lot about you people."

How could this perfect stranger know so much about her and the people around her. Was he part of the conspiracy. Did he have a clue about what was going on. Maybe dinner with the spy might…. "What did you find out about me?"

He chuckled and started to answer when a squeak of metal against metal startled them both. Dana walked back to the window and looked down into the yard. The sun was beginning to set and the area by the gate was cast in shadow. She couldn’t see who was entering but she heard his hiss of surprise. "Clayton?" Concern flooded her voice. "Clayton, are you all right?"

"The knob on the lamp on the nightstand. Goodbye, Dana Scully."

She waited anxiously until she saw who it was. The Major had come back. His arms were around her and the cone mike picked up the sobbed, "I couldn’t go. I really don’t want to know. If he wanted me to know he would have told me. OH GOD, Webb why am I such a fool?"

Shaking her head, Scully turned and pulled the last of the cords from the cone mike. Walking over to the nightstand she removed the last of the bugs. She knew that he wouldn’t lie to her. She had no idea how she knew that but she did.

She had just finished securing the last box when the door opened and he was standing there. The starched white shirt and patterned tie looked much the same as it when he had put it on in the morning. She had forgotten just when she had first admired the way cloth moved across his body. There was little doubt that he worked out diligently. She remembered the one time she had seen him in disarray. There had been a sudden downpour during lunch hour and she and Mulder were just coming going out when it struck. Skinner had been sitting at one of the small tables on the interior court patio in his shirtsleeves. By the time he ran inside, his shirt was drenched and the white cloth molded to his very find abs and pecs. She also remembered the time she had seen him nearly naked as they rushed him through the hospital corridors, the gunshot wound inflicted by Melissa Scully’s assassin threatening his very life. She liked the memory of the wet shirt better.

"Scully?" The word was so many questions. And instead of answering him she stepped into his personal space, lifted her head back and waited. "Dana?" The word was barely a whisper, but still he made no move until she touched him, lightly on the forearm.

It was like a switch was thrown and he suddenly came to life. Cradling her head in one hand, he lowered his head to claim her lips, claim her soul. Twin moans filled the room and if Clayton Webb had lied about the last microphone then he was hearing buttons skitter across the floor, shoes being toed off and kicked aside and tiny mews of pleasure as large hands caressed over soft skin. He would have heard the bedsprings creak and squeal in protest as two bodies, so long denied, fell upon it. There was nothing quiet in their love making, each encouraging the other in their explorations and finally Webb would have Dana Scully begin to chant, "harder, faster, oh deeper, Walter." The scream of her release would have been heard if he had been below any of the open windows of the bedroom. Skinner’s primal roar might very well have been heard had the spy still been sitting on his deck sipping his scotch.

They lay on the bed together panting and calming each other. Skinner finally managed to ask. "Damn, what just happened here?"

She gazed at him, her chin propped on her hand that rested on his marvelous chest. "You don’t know what we just did?"

He pulled her up and kissed the smile off her lips. "Why now? Why after all these years?"

"Oh, I don’t know, a little voice told me it was time."

Home     ::    crossovers Index     ::    e-mail