Roadside Assistance 5, repost
Polly Moller
Roadside Assistance, part 5....by Polly Moller
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I must have stood there for quite a while in the middle of the
wooden landing. My heart rate slowly returned to normal, and I noticed
how cold my ears were, after standing so long trying to let the wind and
the fear flow around me. My shield was finding it painfully obvious that
there was no one else around but Mulder on that chilly night.
I clenched my teeth against a creeping feeling of guilt.
Automatically I reached my soul downward to feel the presence of the
earth, the sandy earth at that. _You don't owe him for his help_,
I insisted to myself. _He can't guilt you into this_.
I looked and saw that he hadn't moved. The edges of his
coat strained backward from him in the wind. I let my feet carry
me toward the railing, slowly. I watched as he heard my footsteps,
and felt that he welcomed my approach, somewhat despite himself.
"Well, I guess you've found the limit to Santa Cruz hospitality,"
I remarked, trying to strike the right balance between humor and
regret.
I arrived beside him to lean on the railing. He smiled
ruefully, looking down at the dark beach and the waves.
"May I have some more of those seeds?" I asked quietly.
Silently he pulled out the bag and handed it to me.
After a few moments, he spoke. "I just keep stepping right out
of line, huh?"
"It's hard to know where the line is, in something
like this," I pointed out.
It was painful to observe him so withdrawn, when we had
both been so unrestrained. His eyes remained firmly fixed on
the incoming waves, barely visible far below.
A truck rumbled by on the highway. I was standing too
close to Mulder to bring up my shield safely, so I took a nervous
step away to take an inward look round. I still didn't sense
anyone nearby.
"What?" Mulder asked softly.
"Nothing. Just checking."
I looked at him in time to see him blink a few times, and
frown. "And I believe you. You see how you hold all the cards?"
"You should believe me," I told him. I hoped I was
projecting confidence, and a light touch. Something that would
show how easy it was for me to say these things. "I am never
going to lie to you."
He leaned with his back against the railing, staring out
at the road, and turned up the collar of his coat. Casting a
glance at him sideways, I glimpsed his eyes, almost completely
dilated with the thinnest of rings around them.
Perhaps this was a good lightweight topic of conversation.
"What color are your eyes really?" I asked. "They were green
for a while there."
"They're mood eyes from the seventies," Mulder remarked,
archly raising his eyebrows. "Yours have been green for quite
a while now."
"Yeah. They're family eyes." Sensing something, I offered
him the open sunflower seed bag, which he gratefully reached into. I
wondered how often, and how carefully, he'd looked at my eyes. It wasn't
the kind of detail I could sense easily. He must have remembered
each of those committed gazes of his.
A ripple appeared on the edge of my intuition. Carefully,
I slowed my breathing and concentrated over to my left, somewhere up
the highway. Whatever it was, it was further away than I usually
sensed individuals. If it were one person, it had to be somebody
familiar to me. "Mulder?" I called out quietly.
"What?"
"Something's there." I closed my eyes, trying to screen
out Mulder's presence on my right side, and focus on the smaller
thing further away. Fuzzily I sensed Mulder wanting to get
closer to me, but avoiding me for my shield's sake. Under more
relaxed circumstances, I would have been very impressed with
his understanding of my ability.
"Are there trails around here?" Mulder asked quickly.
"Other ways to approach the landing we're on?"
"Yeah, there's one there, and there." I pointed. To
our right, was the trail on whose tributaries I'd detoured with
Josh. "This is an old military installation--there are disused
tunnels all around here." Raising my left arm distractedly, I
tried to nail down the position of the approaching person.
"Whoever it is, they're over there. On the road."
Mulder followed me as I walked distractedly toward the
parking lot. Descending the steps onto the asphalt, I sensed
whoever it was had picked up some speed. "Somebody running,"
I told Mulder. "It's one person. Confused and a little
scared."
Mulder's impression, behind me, had wound itself up
tightly. He seemed to be reaching forward as well, like a
person flying a kite, trying to see with his own intuition.
Suddenly, like a crystal instantly forming, I knew who the
runner was. "It's Will," I cried. "Mulder, it's him."
Mulder did not reply, but I felt his excitement.
Footsteps became audible in the distance. "Hawk?" I
called out, and my voice cracked.
"Hi, Mari." The answering voice was faint. A figure
appeared, tall and indistinct in a long coat, at the
entrance to the parking lot.
I took off at a run to meet him, and in the dark,
I got both arms around him. My right thigh bumped something
large and hard under his coat, and I noticed he
was only embracing me with one arm. He had the briefcase
under his long coat. I kept a firm grip on myself; I would
not cry and embarrass him. Looking up, I found that he'd
grown a few inches of beard. His hair was longer. Although
his hair was the brown I remembered, his beard had a lot
of the Stevenson red in it.
"Y'know, Hawk," I began awkwardly, reluctantly letting
him out of my grip, "you're looking a little like the lead
singer of the Spin Doctors."
Will guffawed. Grinning ruefully, he held out his right hand
to Mulder. "Hi, I'm Will. I guess you know that by now."
Mulder nodded and shook Will's hand. "Mulder. I
guess you're in some trouble."
Will made a face, trying to seem amused by his
circumstances. "I'm being offered a job, and that's being
in some trouble," he remarked. "And they did me the favor
of resigning me from Quantico. _Real_ considerate of them.
I just wake up one morning and I can't get into class 'cause
I've _resigned_."
A scuffed brown briefcase appeared from under Will's coat.
Reluctantly, he handed it over to Mulder. "You remember Danny
Casolaro?" he asked abruptly.
The name was vaguely familiar to me, but it charged
Mulder with excitement. "He was a journalist," he began. Each
statement curved upward at the end with anticipation.
"He was murdered, although it was made to look like a
suicide. His papers, his research notes, were missing at the
crime scene. Nobody knows what happened to them."
"Yeah. He was researching ties between government
and organized crime. CIA having people murdered. October
Surprise." Will kicked distractedly at a yellow line painted
on the parking lot, and with his eyebrows indicated the briefcase
in Mulder's hands. "Those are his papers. In there."
Mulder stared at Will, and glanced down at the case,
his mouth open the slightest bit. Will continued.
"The Professor gave me the case. He didn't tell me what it was.
I was just supposed to leave it somewhere and I was going to, but
suddenly standing right in front of him, I knew he was giving me
something that was a lie."
It took me a moment to realize that "the Professor"
was Will's name for Mulder's contact. Mulder frowned. "He
lied to you?"
"He didn't _tell_ me anything." Will was barely
containing his consternation. "He didn't lie to me. He
just said here's the package. Take it to Union Station
and lock it up in a locker! That's all he said to me!"
He turned angrily to me. "Don't look at me like that,
Mari. Don't look so _pleased_."
I pulled myself away from his frustration. "If
that's what you think, you haven't had much practice with your
ability," I informed him.
"I just knew." Will spat the words out. "The
stuff in the briefcase was a complete and total crock.
It was so _obvious_. And I had no basis for it. And
the _next_ thing..." he trailed off, and took a deep
breath.
"What was the next thing?" Mulder asked in a
low voice.
Will opened his mouth, but did not speak
immediately. His presence quivered a little with
remembered fear and bewilderment. "Then I saw..."
He threw up his hands violently. "I saw him die.
I saw him shot at close range."
"Who?" I demanded.
"The Professor!" Will nearly shouted. "But
he wasn't dead. I'd just seen this in my head. So
after he left, and I was supposed to deliver the
briefcase, I _had_ to look inside it. I had to see
what the stuff was that was bogus, and I picked the
lock and I read all of it." Will paused for breath,
and licked his lips. "It is _scary_. _Really_
scary. This guy was killed for finding this stuff out,
but none of it's true."
A wave crashed in the distance. Will looked at
the pavement, his fists clenching and unclenching at his
sides. Mulder held the briefcase against his chest with
both arms, frowning.
"The case was for you," I reminded Mulder slowly.
"You've got it now. What are you going to do with it?"
Mulder shook his head. "I...don't know."
Will turned to me, blinking. "You've got to
help me with this, Mari. Can you make it go away?"
He meant his ability. "Of course not," I almost
snapped. "It's one of your many talents now. It's better you
learn how to make it work."
"Oh my God. I don't _want_ it!" Will paced
back and forth, with an impression so agitated I was
nervous about approaching him. "This stuff, these
visions, they don't come when I need them. They just
show up. It's pretty damned inconvenient!"
My mind was reeling a little bit. I was still
mulling over Will's second vision. He had seen something very
specific regarding Deep Throat, or "the Professor." Had
he entered some part of the older man's impression? Or
had he seen the future? I had never seen the future
while awake; only in dreams.
"Were you followed here?" Mulder asked Will.
"I don't know. I hitchhiked." Will kicked at
the asphalt again.
I stepped forward and grabbed both of Will's hands.
My shield dissolved and it occurred to me that without that sense
to tell me who he was, I might not have recognized him.
He was wearing old jeans, ripped in several places, old work
boots, and a stained tan raincoat--probably to disguise himself
as a homeless person, just as I had. His eyes were the
only familiar part of his face, and those were tired and red. Looking
carefully into them I made my voice steady and autoritative.
"Hawk, I can help you, but I can't make the visions go away.
Or the feelings. What I can do is show you how to control them."
"That's what _they_ said." Will frowned down at me.
"They said they'd give me training. They said for some of what
they do, only extrasensory operatives can do the job."
"And you don't want to do this kind of work." Mulder
was back in questioning mode, contained and focused.
"No. I don't trust these guys." Will withdrew his
hands from mine. "I mean, would you? Extrasensory operatives?
What kind of tabloid crap is that?"
"It sounds like you believe it." Mulder persisted,
shifting the case under his arm.
"Well, yeah. They're serious. And I _am_ feeling
this stuff. I just..." Will turned away and ran one hand
through his hair. When he spoke again, his voice was muffled
by the sound of the waves, and very forlorn. "I just don't
want to work for them. I'd _really_ like to go back to Quantico."
I gasped suddenly as a cold chill hit me between the
shoulder blades. It was a little like an ice cube sliding
down my back, but it was all intuitive. "Mulder, somebody's
coming," I called out. My throat tightened and nearly strangled
the words. "Uh...they aren't friendly."
"Car keys?" Mulder asked quietly. Shakily I handed them to
him, and watched him lock the briefcase in the trunk of the Hyundai.
"Mari?" Will drew up hesitantly beside me. "Who's
coming?"
Before I could answer, a dark blue van pulled into the
parking lot. Mulder stood motionless beside my car, watching
it. It had no license plate on the front.
Automatically I took a few steps backward, up onto the
sidewalk. I had felt danger before, usually associated with a
wreck on a highway or a dangerous-looking part of a strange
city, but never anything this...concentrated. How could
so much danger and violence emanate from one vehicle? It had
a kind of focus and intent that made me want to take my shield
down.
The van stopped a few feet from the curb and switched
its brights on. Startled, I threw up a hand to shade my eyes,
and heard one of its doors slam.
"Will Stevenson." A man's voice spoke. I could make out
legs, visually, and the edges of yet another long coat. There
was also the cold feeling of weaponry around him. "This
has gone on long enough."
Will's impression was taught with fear. His voice,
though, did not betray it. "Yeah, I think so. You're wasting
your time."
I felt that there were more people present than the
man who was speaking, probably inside the van. Backlit by
the bright headlights, the man before us looked tall, and
gaunt. "I see you've made your delivery."
Mulder stepped up onto the curb. "Who are you?"
he demanded.
"That's not your concern." The stranger took a few
steps toward us, and I saw his scarred face, his crew cut
only about a quarter of an inch high. His eyes
regarded Mulder with mild amusement, then returned to
Will. "You've heard our offer. There is work only you
can do for us."
There was silence except for the idling engine of
the van. Will gazed at the stranger with visible dread.
I was on the point of pinching myself to banish the images
of the van and its driver--such poignant impressions of
cruelty could only belong to nightmares. Mulder was seething
behind his professional exterior, mixing curiosity and indignation.
"I don't want to work for you," Will replied finally,
enunciating each word carefully. "I don't."
A few seconds of silence followed. The van idled
smoothly before us, and I searched for any change in the
stranger's demeanor to predict what might happen next.
"This has always been your decision." The stranger's
statement felt like the slick surface of a frozen lake.
"It has consequences you must be prepared to accept."
Will's presence was withering under the menacing gaze
of the stranger, but he stood his ground. My heart was
pounding the inside of my ribs, and I wanted to yell out,
_He's not kidding_.
My feet carried me the two steps it took to place
myself between Will and the stranger. He looked
like nothing more or less than a tall, thin missile with a
crew cut. I wondered if he would reach for a weapon and
deliver the consequences himself. Reaching earthward,
I looked straight into his eyes. "You heard him. He's
not interested."
The stranger took a few casual steps back. His thin
lips curved slightly in a sneer as he looked at Will. Then, he
looked back at me. "He's far more advanced than you," he told me
coldly, before stepping up into the cab of the blue van.
*
Only after the van, and its contents, disappeared from
my shield's edge did I relax. When I did, I found my hands were
shaking and my arms and legs tingled. Mulder stepped around in
front of me to regard me with warm concern. "Are you okay?"
"Who was he?" I asked after a moment.
"I don't know," he answered.
Will came up behind me, and put his hand on my left
shoulder. I jumped as if he'd struck me, then smiled at
him to apologize. He looked so haggard. I wished I could
shave him and cut his hair myself, to make him look like the
old Hawk as soon as possible.
"Want me to drive?" Mulder murmured gently.
I was about to take offense, before I realized he
didn't mean any. "No, I'm okay," I assured him, reaching
down again through my feet, through the asphalt, to find the
earth.
Silently he handed me the keys.
No one spoke the entire trip back to the Jade Mantis
Academy. I took my shield down to help me concentrate on the
road; I was sure the car was roiling with emotions, and I
decided not to look at them. Watching my breathing grow
deeper and more quiet, I wondered if I dared think this
was all over. Will had given the stranger his answer.
Mulder had the briefcase, even if the contents were useless.
Will was back, and after a time he would be healed. I
could not determine whether he would be allowed to return
to Quantico.
We arrived at the school to find it dark and quiet,
except for lights in the upstairs living quarters. A figure
at an upstairs window turned out to be Jason, who came downstairs
to let us in.
Will got to Jason first, and embraced him. "It's all
been taken care of," Will told him, his voice muffled over
Jason's shoulder.
Letting go of Will, finally, Jason looked intently
at Mulder. "Is this true?"
Pulling my shield together, I found that Jason was a
little distracted, maybe even afraid, although he wasn't
afraid of any of us. Had the stranger threatened him?
"It seems that way," Mulder answered. "It's hard to
know."
"Hi," I said lamely.
Jason smiled at me, but remained distracted in his
impression. Stepping forward, he gathered me up in a quick
hug that seemed to dissolve a lot of the remaining tremors
inside me. "Come upstairs," he ordered us. "I've got to
tell you something."
We followed him to the stairway, and he began talking
while we were still climbing the steps to the kitchen. "I got
a couple of messages while I was teaching my last class."
We all emerged into the kitchen, and Jason flipped on a light
and turned to face us. "The first one was the Department of
Records. My P.I. license documents have disappeared, and none
of the information is in their computer any more."
I sat down hard on a kitchen chair. Will covered his
mouth with his hand. "Oh my God," he whispered.
"I can't do any more P.I. work until I reapply, and
they give me a new one." Jason paced across the kitchen, and
then back toward us. "The second message was from the I.R.S.
I'm going to be audited next week."
Will buried his face in his hands. Remorse seemed to
engulf him where he sat. Jason looked at Mulder, and his voice
became brittle. "Considering the amount of cash I've accepted
for my services, like art, and the occasional one-off self-
defense workshop--without recording it, they might decide I've
broken some kind of law."
"Love, it's not Mulder's fault." I could barely keep
the tears back. Jason's image in my eyes was starting to
waver and become watery.
"Of course not," Jason snapped. He opened a cupboard,
distractedly, and stared into it.
Mulder's mind had that hard disk data retrieval feeling
again. I pushed away the impulse to beg him to use his influence
with the Department of Records and the I.R.S. _What a ludicrous
notion_, I told myself bitterly. _That crew cut man thought Mulder
was some kind of amoeba_.
Struck by a sudden and painful calm, I took the few steps
to the kitchen phone, and watched my fingers dial my home number,
and enter the code to replay my own messages.
There was only one, in the voice of Dr. Harris, the Music
Department chair. "Mari, please call me immediately when you
get home." A short pause, containing a deep breath on Harris'
end. "There's something I need to tell you as soon as possible."
I started to feel the attention of all three men in the
kitchen as I dialed Dr. Harris' home number. A small relief--
he answered the phone himself.
"Hello Robert. I got your message," I told him. My
voice did not shake. It had the same painful calm as the rest
of me.
Dr. Harris hesitated. "Mari, I have bad news."
I waited, without speaking. I could already guess.
"The Dean's decided to eliminate your position." The
words spilled from Harris' mouth. "The women's choir, the
new music ensemble...she decided they had to go in order to
balance the budget."
I turned to look at Jason in the silence. He was
staring ahead so fixedly I couldn't catch his eye.
"Are you sure that's why?" I asked Harris quietly.
"Mari, we don't have any chance of fighting this."
There was an undercurrent of fear and resentment in my
boss' voice that made a lot of sense to me.
Will had his head down on the table, but with his
head turned, so he could look at me with one eye. Mulder
regarded me with silent sympathy. Both had somehow figured
out what had happened.
"Well, thanks, Robert, I guess." Recklessly, I
put the receiver down without saying goodbye.
Will raised his head to hold it in his hands. I
opened my mouth slowly, bemused by how easy it was to talk
about it. "Gentlemen, I've been let go."
"God." Will's eyes appeared above his fingertips.
"You're both welcome here." Jason looked from me
to Will, and spoke abruptly. "Always. You know that."
Mulder leaned against the kitchen door frame and
sighed in frustration. Everyone else remained motionless
and quiet, waiting for it all to sink in.
*
Some time later, it occurred to me that Mulder's
belongings were still at my house in Felton. If he wanted
to leave, I had to take him there first. I supposed while
there, I could start packing.
Again he offered to drive, and again I refused.
It seemed important, in a foolish macho sort of way, to
display driving ability in the wake of being laid off.
The drive was silent. Highway 280 cut through the
dark starlit Peninsula like the marks of a great scythe.
It was a clear night, with a few constellations visible
overhead. Highway 17, when we reached it, commanded most of
my attention. I tried not to dwell on my guest's immanent
departure. Only yesterday, he had been a stranger stranded
by the side of the road. Soon, he would be too far away
for me to sense him.
By the time the car rumbled over the potholed driveway,
I had steeled myself not to invite him to stay. I refused to
think about the good times we'd be sure to have, without Will's
disappearance for him to investigate. I had to send him on
and get to the unpleasant business ahead.
I called him a cab, and he packed without saying a word,
though I could feel he was reluctant to leave. One by one, his
briefcase, flight bag, and garment bag appeared at the door,
ready to go with him to Santa Cruz and the nearest car rental
agency.
Standing before the altar in the living room, I saw the
cab pull up, and waved to the driver to wait. Mulder slouched
up behind me, and saw the cab. "There he is," he commented
absent-mindedly.
"Yes." I turned around.
"Are you mad at me?" he asked tentatively.
"No, of course not." I avoided a nervous laugh. "Would
you take something with you from me?"
"Sure." His presence brightened with anticipation.
I reached down to the altar, and picked out my favorite holy
stone. It was a uniform dark gray, nearly spherical, with a
smooth hole worn in it by the ocean. Setting it in the palm of
my right hand I held it out to him. "Stones with holes in them
are symbolic of divine favor," I explained.
I felt him deepen with awe. "So I can wear your favor
into battle?" He grinned as he realized what he was saying,
and added, "Dulcinea?"
I smiled as I watched him slide the stone into his
shirt pocket with his glasses. He raised his eyebrows. "Will
this help you keep an eye on me?"
"Maybe a little bit," I answered. I felt myself
blushing all of a sudden and looked at the ground.
"It just feels bad to leave you in the middle of all this,"
Mulder said finally. "I could maybe stay another day, and..." He
trailed off, and I shook my head.
"What would you do?" I asked awkwardly. His eyes were
very definitely green, now.
"I don't know. Something." One side of his mouth smiled,
and he moved slowly to take both my hands, slowly enough that I
could take the necessary shield precautions. "Even though I'm
more trouble than I'm worth."
I shook my head at him again, with my head on one side.
"Go on, Mulder. You gotta get _some_ vacation in before you
get back to work." I felt the same side of my own mouth smiling
back at him. "Just don't forget me, okay?"
"I can't." He grinned, and let one of my hands go to
dig in one of his pockets. "You can reach me anytime at this
number," he informed me, handing me a business card. "And here's
what you do--next time you rent a video, copy it. I'll be on the
next plane to arrest you."
I laughed gratefully. "I'll get right on it."
He let my hand go, and I held the card carefully by its
edges to place it on the altar. Gathering up his luggage, Mulder
opened the front door. Looking past him, I saw it had begun to
rain, but he strode out into the driveway without appearing to
notice it. My hands began gripping the door frame while he
loaded his luggage in the trunk of the taxi.
The trunk lid closed with a finality that brought mist
to my eyes at last, but I managed to look forthrightly through
the rain when he turned back to look for me. Silently he mouthed,
_Bye_, and waved before climbing in the back seat.
I watched until the taxi disappeared from view, and Mulder
disappeared from my shield.
Closing the door on the sound of the rain, I headed for the
bedroom to begin packing.
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Polly Moller * ni...@netcom.com *...yadda yadda yadda...*
Flutist, Conductor, Teacher / Producer, Women's Alternative
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