NEW: Trace Evidence II: Hobson's Choice (01/10) (X/CRA)
Vampyres Incorporeal
Title: Trace Evidence II: Hobson's Choice (01/10)
Author: Saundra Mitchell
E-Mail: v...@netdirect.net
Feedback: Please!
Archive: Yes
Category: X/CRA
11 Cents Category: NA
Rating: R (Adult situations, language)
Summary: Scully stumbles across a cry for help on the
Internet which brings her, and her partner up against a
veil of government secrecy; in the meantime, Bayliss struggles
to adjust to his new life "out of the closet".
Spoilers: Current Seasons
Original Posting: alt.tv.x-files.creative, X-Files Fanfic
List, 11 Cents
Do NOT post to alt.tv.x-files.creative, I'll do it, thanks:)
Keywords: Mulder, Scully, Pembleton, Bayliss, Munch,
x file, romance, slash, Homicide, mind control,
conspiracy, government
Disclaimer: Scully, Mulder and "The X-Files" are
copyrighted by 1013 Productions. The cast of
"Homicide: Life on the Street" including Bayliss,
Pembleton, et al, are copyrighted by Baltimore Pictures.
"Trace Evidence" and "Inadmissible" are copyright
1998, Saundra Mitchell. All rights reserved by the
respective companies and author.
Notes: "Trace Evidence" follows and continues the
stories in "Forward Slash"; many of the aspects will
make a lot more sense having read the first four stories.
They can be found at
http://netdirect.net/~vii/fanfic/index.html After "Forward
Slash," my stories have completely diverted from the
actual shows, so don't expect to see aftermath resulting
from them here! Thanks to Sheryl Jern for technical
advice. The fact that Tim's mother continues to be called
"Sarah" in my series is not a mistake. When she was first
introduced into my stories, she had yet to appear on
"Homicide", so I'm going to keep the name I gave her.
Just one of the quirks of an alternate universe.
More Notes: Have you written me feedback on any of
my Forward Slash/Trace Evidence stories? If so, keep
an eye peeled; your name might appear in this story in
some form. Additionally, just because your name
_doesn't_ appear here doesn't mean I don't love you, it
just means I didn't have space to add you. Don't worry,
there are always more stories later. Thank you for
reading!!!
Mulder's Apartment
Clad in boxers and little else, Mulder and Bayliss
sat side by side on the pleather couch, punching the
multi colored controller buttons furiously. On the tv
screen, Kitana executed a perfect punch-kick-punch
combination, and Sub-Zero was thrown from the top of
a temple to his death on the rocks below. Scowling,
Mulder watched Tim punch his initials into the high
score list. All evidence that he had ever played Mortal
Kombat had been erased by a long row of "TB"s.
Bayliss grinned, putting his arms behind his
head. "Feel like being beaten again?"
"I'm just going easy on you," Mulder muttered.
"Twelve games in a row?"
"I'm a generous guy."
Tossing his controller on the arm of the couch,
Tim fumbled for his crutches. Wrapping the grey plastic
braces around his biceps, he forced himself into a
standing position.
"After all that hard work, I'm thirsty," he teased
Mulder. "Want a beer?"
"I can get it," Mulder said, starting to stand. He
sank back into his seat on the power of Tim's pointed
glare. "Okay. Yes. Please."
Another wave of thunder echoed outside, and
the soft whisper of rain against the window shifted to a
thrumming torrent. Lightning flashed, silhouetting Tim's
lithe form as he made his way into the kitchenette.
Admiring the graceful lines of his back and shoulders,
Mulder drew a sharp breath. If he let himself think about
it, he was still surprised and a little disconcerted to
realize he loved another man. It was easy enough to
banish the thoughts, though. Standing, he crossed the
short distance between them. Chest to back, cheek to
cheek, Mulder ran his fingers gently down Bayliss' chest
as the other man continued rummaging through the
fridge for a beer.
"You can't seduce me out of grinding you to a
pulp again," Tim said, tilting his head back against
Mulder's shoulder and closing his eyes.
"Damn," Mulder muttered in mock
disappointment. "Do I get a consolation prize at least?"
Taking a half step back, Bayliss closed the
refrigerator door. Leaning against the appliance for
support, he maneuvered his way out of one crutch and
turned around. He was only a few inches taller than
Mulder, but it gave him advantage enough to hover
dangerously close to the other man's parted lips.
"That depends entirely on how you want to be
consoled," he whispered, his mouth brushing across
Mulder's.
"Rematch," Mulder answered softly. "Pizza.
Wild animal sex on the living room floor."
Curling his free hand against Mulder's cheek,
Tim half smiled. "I think I have the money for a pizza."
With a gentle push, Mulder forced him against
the refrigerator door. Taking advantage of his newfound
leverage, Mulder pinned him in a slow, smoldering kiss.
Catching Tim's lower lip in his teeth, he pulled back
softly, opening his eyes to stare up at him.
"I don't want pizza."
Twining his fingers into Mulder's hair, Tim
pulled him close and returned the embrace, relishing the
harsh scrape of day-old stubble and hard, masculine
hands on his skin. They fit together perfectly, mouth on
mouth as the heat rose between them. With a flickering
pass of their tongues, they pressed harder into one
another, gently pulling hair and clenching fingers into
flesh.
"I don't want a rematch," Tim breathed when
their mouths parted, reaching for his other crutch.
"Wild animal sex it is," Mulder replied, skipping
the living room floor part entirely.
Scully's Apartment
Poking at her plain bologna and mustard
sandwich, Scully stared blankly at the lap top screen.
Scrolling through one of her usenet groups, she flicked
through posts with barely a glance at their contents.
Illuminated only by the light of a vanilla-scented candle,
her living room looked warmly inviting, but it was
Saturday night, and she was alone again.
Frustrated with herself, she pulled up the next
entry, deciding it would be her last for the night. It was
bad enough that she was alone on date night; worse that
she was spending it cooped up in her own apartment as
she played at catching up with the threads in her
pathology news group. Without reading the subject line,
she skimmed the first few paragraphs of the message.
The words caught her attention. She pushed up her
glasses, and backed the cursor up the screen to start
again.
>From ???@0x00002B7C Sat May 16 15:23:00 1998
Path:ameritech.net!ais.net!portc01.blue.aol.com!audrey
01.news.aol.com!not-for-mail
From: AGi...@aol.com (AGilson)
Newsgroups: sci.med.pathology
Subject: Government Mind Control Experiments in New
Berlin
Lines: 140
Message-ID:
<199805161711...@ladder01.news.aol.c
om>
NNTP-Posting-Host: ladder01.news.aol.com
X-Admin: ne...@aol.com
Date: 16 May 1998 17:11:08 GMT
Organization: AOL http://www.aol.com
Xref: ind.ameritech.net sci.med.pathology:3818
Status: N
I wish to report the commission of atrocities in the New
Berlin, New York area using a form of electrically
stimulated mind control. The local police department, in
concert with the CIA and NSA are entrapping and
torturing victims with secretly implanted brain altering
devices.
Victims are kept debilitated with chronic electrical
stimulation which is at times similar in potency to nerve
gas in terms of being a hazardous biological agent,
except that the effects are more specific to a particular
target. The levels are periodically upped to that point
whenever the predators deem it necessary to keep their
prey in thrall, or to achieve a desired end. This is in
effect electronic telepathy--being used for nothing but
deleterious purposes, however (for the implementation
of torture).
The signal can be transmitted to victims from incredible
distances with accuracy, it is impossible to evade, and
there is a large network of government agents engaged
in the monitoring of these implanted individuals. There
is probable usage of satellite tracking, augmented by
ground-based weapons, making escape impossible. . .
Leaning back in her chair, she devoured the rest
of the post with skeptical amusement. She didn't
understand why AGilson had decided to post this bit of
fiction to sci.med.pathology, but she was glad he or she
had. It was something to bring to Mulder's Weekly
World News sessions, and it gave her hope that she
wasn't the most pathetic being in North America. With a
grin, she saved the post as a text file, then closed out her
connection.
Monday Morning
Mulder's Apartment
"You're sure you'll be all right," Mulder asked
again, hastily running a comb through his hair as he
shifted his toothbrush from one side to the other. The
deft choreography of brush teeth-brush hair-slip into
shoes-shake out jacket told Tim that Mulder was in the
habit of running late.
"I'll be fine, Mulder. I can entertain myself."
"I can drive you into town. You could check out
the Smithsonian."
"If I want to go to the Smithsonian, I know how
to call a cab."
Using the spray attachment on his sink as a
water fountain, Mulder rinsed his mouth then buttoned
his jacket. He jacked his foot up against the counter,
tied one shoe, then repeated the process with the other.
Glancing up at the clock, he winced. He grabbed his gun
from the counter, pushed it into the holster, and
dropped a kiss on Bayliss' mouth.
"Oh hell," he muttered, reaching into his pocket.
He pulled out one of his cards. "My number at the
office, and my cell number is written on the back."
Tim took the card, and nodded. "Okay."
"Scully's going to kill me," he scowled, heading
for the door.
"Have a nice day at work, honey," Bayliss
intoned in a falsetto, grinning at the look of disgust
Mulder shot him.
(End Part One)