The X-Files--Incognito

The X-Files
"Incognito"
by Orianna

X x X

Mulder glanced up as Dana Scully walked into their basement office. She had a leather garment bag over her shoulder that she carefully hung on the coat rack behind the door.

"Hey, partner," he greeted the redhead. "What's in there?" He eyed the expensive looking bag curiously.

Scully glanced at him as she made sure the bag was hanging straight. "It's for tonight."

"Ah," Mulder said with an understanding smile. "Do I get a sneak preview?" he asked slyly.

Before Scully could reply, the door opened behind her and the three Lone Gunmen filed into the room. "Greetings fellow truth seekers," Byers cheerfully said. The other two spread out through the room, conducting a rapid but thorough search.

"You're clean," Langly announced, having found no electronic listening devices except the ones they had planted.

Scully sat at her desk, deliberately ignoring the trio. One of them approached her and produced a single pink rose from an inner coat pocket. It was only slightly bruised. "Good morning, O beautiful goddess."

She gave him a slightly exasperated look. "Frohike. Thank you, you shouldn't have."

"Oh, but for you, I would walk the alleged eternal flames of hellfire," he quickly stated. Then he added, "Not that I'm sure they exist. There is the possibility that the whole doctrine was invented by an ancient government in order to inhibit criminal activity."

Mulder rolled his eyes, along with the other two Gunmen. Langly slapped Frohike on the shoulder and grinned. "The flower stand on the corner was having a sale."

Frohike glared at Langly. "Are you suggesting that I am a cheapskate?"

"Not at all, my friend. Not at all," insisted Langly, still smiling broadly.

"So what's up, guys?" Mulder leaned back in his seat, and propped his feet up on the desk.

"Here," Byers reached into his coat pocket, withdrawing a miniature cassette tape. "We just wanted to deliver this. It's an interview with the survivors of that plane crash over the Pacific last month. Several of them claimed to have seen a bright flash in the sky just prior to the engines failing."

Langly pointed to the tape in Mulder's hands and added, "We do, of course, have more than one duplicate of that. Just in case."

"A wise precaution," Scully said dryly from her seat.

"We thought so," admitted Byers, oblivious to her sarcasm.

Frohike noticed the garment bag hanging behind the door. "I take it, Agent Scully, that you decided to attend this year's annual FBI Masquerade Ball?"

She nodded, hoping that he wouldn't ask to see her costume. He did. Sighing, she got up and unzipped the bag partway, displaying the faded fabric of the Raggedy Ann outfit. She heard Mulder snickering from behind his desk. "My mother made this for me when I was in high school," she glared at him indignantly.

"No, no. It's...nice." Frohike stuck up for her. "And I'm sure that it will look quite lovely on you."

"Thank you, Frohike." "Might I ask, Agent Scully, have you yet aquired an escort for this evening? Perhaps you would consider attending this function with myself?" Frohike ventured bravely.

"Oh," Scully frowned and zipped the bag back up. "I'm sorry. I've already promised tonight to Agent Mulder, who will probably frighten everyone away in his little green martian costume."

"Actually, it's grey," Mulder pointed out.

"That's quite all right, I should have asked you sooner," Frohike smiled. "And I do believe that Mulder's EBE outfit shrunk at the drycleaners after last year's event. We were unable to discover what he decided upon this year."

"You'll never know," Mulder smiled triumphantly.

"Actually, we're attending this year." Langly pulled an invitation from his pocket.

Mulder frowned. "How'd you manage that?"

This time it was Frohike's turn, "You'll never know."

Scully raised her eyebrows, positive that she didn't want to know.

"Well, as fun as this has been..." Byers tactfully reminded the others of the appointments they still had to keep.

"That's right, we must be going." Langly and Frohike made their way to the door. "Until tonight, then."

Mulder glanced at the clock and realized what time it was. "Hey, Scully, I'm going to head home to change. Meet you there?"

She looked up from the report she was filling out and hid a smile. Perfect... "Sure. What are you wearing?"

Mulder smiled cockishly. "Nothing so interesting as you'll be wearing."

Scully shot him a look. Little does he know... "I'm sure. I do need to be able to find you amid the throngs of agents, though."

"Right. It's an 18th century getup. You know, high boots, loose shirt, sword." He slipped into his dark jacket and stuck the tape the Gunmen had dropped off in his back pocket. "See you soon."

As soon as she was sure that Mulder had really left, Scully locked the office door, and pulled her real costume out from its hiding place. It was a beautiful work of satin and crushed velvet that Melissa had found at some boutique and insisted on buying for her sister the year before her death. Until now, Scully had never had the opportunity to wear it.

Working quickly, Scully slipped out of her tailored suit and pulled the exquisite dress on over her head. The emerald fabric clung tightly to her waist, then spilled out over the wide-hipped petticoats, just touching the tops of her matching shoes. She swept her hair up into a round twist and pinned several long ringlets underneath the coil. The false hair was the exact shade of her own and it added the perfect touch, making her look as if she had just stepped out of a 1700-era ballroom.

She glanced at the clock. Hurry up, Dana. You're already late. The last accessory she slipped on was the delicate half-mask that was a requirement at masquerade events.

Mulder stood patiently near the entrance to the elegantly decorated hotel ballroom. He sipped from a fluted champagne glass, idly studying the other agents and government officials present at the ball. A flash of red hair caught his eye and he turned his head to greet his partner. But it wasn't her.

My god, he stared at the woman, his eyes flicking to the revealing square neckline of her gown. The green velvet set off the red hair that had first attracted his attention, but it was much longer than Scully's and done up in old-fashioned curls. Raggedy Ann, he reminded himself, tearing his eyes away from the entrancing sight. Look for Raggedy Ann.

Ooh, thought Scully when she sighted Mulder standing at the arched entranceway. The only word she could think of to describe his appearence was...dashing. The ruffled ivory shirt he wore was the kind that had long sleeves and laced half-way up the front. A poet blouse, she thought it was called. It was tucked loosely into a pair of snug dark pants, which in turn were tucked into black polished boots that came to a few inches below his knees. A sword hung from his left hip, and he had a narrow black eye-mask tied behind his head, completing the outfit.

Scully walked toward him, absently returning the greetings that were being thrown her way. He looked at her, and for a moment she could have sworn that he was checking her out. Then he glanced away, obviously looking for someone. He doesn't recognize me, she realized suddenly. This could get interesting...

Mulder sighed and set his empty champagne glass down. That redhead in the emerald ballgown was staring at him again, not that he minded. Scully still hadn't arrived, so he decided to ask the mysterious lady to dance. As he made his way through the people that were milling about, he heard a familiar voice.

"I saw her first!"

"You did not."

"Did too."

Mulder grinned. The Lone Gunmen had arrived, decked out like the Three Musketeers. "Hey guys," he got their attention. "I saw her before any of you."

"Oh, no you don't!" the two unmarried Gunmen chorused, prepared to aid each other in keeping the disputed woman away from Mulder. They knew that neither one of them had a chance if Mulder got to her first.

"Where'd she go?" asked Mulder.

"What? Oh, no." Frohike looked annoyed and dejected at the same time. "You idiots scared her off."

"You mean you idiots scared her off." Mulder shook his head. "Oh well. You know, I bet that Scully'd be happy to dance with you when she gets here, Frohike."

The shorter man perked up. "Really? You think she might?"

She owes me for standing me up like this..."Oh yeah, sure," Mulder assured him. "All three of you."

"Agent Fox Mulder, you have a telephone call, line two. Agent Fox Mulder, telephone call, line two."

Mulder glanced up at the loudspeaker, grimacing. "I guess that's for me. Excuse me, guys." He hurried up to the information desk and grabbed the phone, pushing the button for line two.

"Hello, Mulder?" It was Scully. Who else would dare have him paged as Fox Mulder?

"You're late, Scully. Where are you?" Mulder plugged one ear, trying to block out the noise of the party.

"Something came up, I'm sorry. I'll still be there, but it might be a while. I just wanted to let you know, so you didn't think I stood you up."

"Yeah, okay. Thanks Scully." He paused. "Is it anything you need my help on?"

"No, no. Don't worry about it. I'll see you soon." Click.

He hung up the phone, curious as to what had delayed her. Then he noticed the redhaired knockout, coming in from outside. Glancing around quickly, he spotted the Lone Gunmen clear on the other side of the ballroom. Perfect, he thought to himself, and followed her to the punchbowl table.

"Excuse me, would you like to dance?" Mulder touched her on the shoulder. To his delight, the woman nodded and took his arm. From across the room, Frohike and Langly scowled.

They danced silently, and as the song ended and another came on, Mulder found himself reluctant to let go of the beauty he held in his arms. Apparently, she felt the same way, because she made no move to leave. The song was slower, more romantic, so Mulder pulled her closer to him. She was wearing Scully's perfume, and if he closed his eyes...

Scully drifted happily along the dance floor. She was dancing with Mulder, in his arms, and he was nuzzling her neck. Smiling faintly, she turned her head and rested against his shoulder. If only he knew...was the one thought that marred the moment. Mulder was holding her, attracted to her, but he was under the impression that she was someone else. She sighed wistfully, and started to pull away. It wasn't right.

No, Mulder thought to himself. This isn't right. You can't pretend it's her, that wouldn't be fair to either of them. He lifted his head from against her cheek just as she let go of him. "I'm sorry," he whispered.

She looked up at him and shook her head. "So am I," she whispered back, cursing to herself. Her plan had been to tell him who she was, after flirting with him for awhile, but now...how could she? After dancing with him like that, he'd realize that she had crossed the line of partnership and into way more dangerous territory.

Mulder snagged a new glass of champagne from a roving server, and downed it in one swallow. How could he have done that? It wasn't his partner, and even it had been, especially if it had been, it was foolish. How could he face when she finally came in, knowing that he'd been imagining that the woman he'd held was her?

The Three Musketeers approached. "Hey, Mulder. Congratulations...looks like she has the hots for you!"

He shook his head. "Nah. She's not my type."

"Good!" Langly and Frohike said in unison, quickly disappearing.

Byers smiled at Mulder. "That poor lady. Say, did you get a chance to listen to that tape yet?"

"Nope. Sorry, Scully kept me pretty busy all day." Mulder glanced around, wondering if he had the time to use the restroom before she showed up. He noticed a clown making his way to the center of the dance floor, alone. "I wonder what he's doing?" It was a slow song, not the type people usually danced to by themselves.

The man lifted a gun into the air and fired twice into the ceiling.

A few startled shrieks echoed with the loud report. The music stopped, and people around the room dove for cover. Instinctively, Mulder reached for his gun, but it wasn't there, and he cursed the costume that left no place for his concealed holster. God, please don't let Scully walk in now!

"Okay," the person with the gun shouted. "I want two hostages...a man and a woman, then everyone else can go. Volunteers?" No one moved. He fired a bullet into the punchbowl, causing the expensive crystal to explode. Red liquid gushed off the table, pooling on the hardwood floor. "I asked for volunteers!"

Immediately, a woman stepped forward. Mulder blinked. It was the woman he'd been dancing with, the one in the old-fashioned ballgown. He stood and walked over to stand next to her, not knowing if she had any kind of training in hostage situations, not even knowing if she was an agent or not.

"All right, you've got your hostages." Assistant Director Skinner shouted at the man. "Now let these other people go."

The man looked around the room. Angry federal agents and their frightened dates looked back at him. "Go." He gestured toward the door with the weapon. Everyone hesitantly stood. "Except you," he pointed at Skinner. "I want you to negotiate with me."

"Okay, people, you heard the man," Skinner directed the others. "Go into the lobby, now." He turned back to the man wielding the gun. "What do you want?"

"No. First you search them," he gestured to the hostages. "And take away that sword."

Mulder was bored almost to tears. The man holding him and the mysterious lady hostage kept prattling on and on about how he and his family had been slighted by the justice system. His tales went back all the way to when his grandparents had been evicted from their home despite his grandfather having served in the first world war.

A.D. Skinner was pacing in the hotel lobby, listening over the phone to the gunman's story. He was starting to get really annoyed. Several times he had to bite his tongue to prevent from cursing the man out. There were snipers on the roof of the building across the street, in case the man decided to flee, but there were no windows to the ballroom to allow a clean shot while he was still inside.

"Why don't you tell us what you want now, sir," Mulder suggested, not for the first time. He wasn't surprised that the man ignored him.

Scully glanced at Mulder, who was seated next to her, trying to catch his eye. The man was starting to get more agitated as time went by, his storytelling becoming more and more loud. She feared what he might do once he had said all that he had to say, and from all indications, he was getting close to that point.

Out of the corner of his eye, Mulder noticed the redhead move slightly. She placed her hand on his leg and squeezed ever so lightly. Slowly, she moved her hand higher up his thigh.

He swallowed. We're being held hostage and this woman is trying to make a pass at me? I do not believe this. Covering her hand with his, he arrested her upward motion, and placed her hand back on her own lap. Swiftly, before he could it pull away, she twisted his hand so that it was under hers.

What is she doing? Mulder thought. This is insane! He could feel the heat of her through the satin gown, and it was distracting him from the man's litany.

Slowly, so as not to attract attention, she guided his hand up her leg, stopping about mid-thigh. He frowned. Instead of soft skin under his fingers, he felt the cold leather strap of a concealed holster. His eyes widened in surprise, but he did not look at her, lest his gaze reveal something to the man pacing wildly in front of them.

Ok, think Mulder, think. Mulder chewed on his inner lip, wishing for Scully's ability to come up with viable plans instantly. How do I get that gun out from under her dress, or give her the opportunity to get it out, without Mr. Storyteller here noticing and blowing our heads off?

The man turned his back for an instant, and he dared a glance at the lady beside him. She was mouthing something at him. He grimaced, uncomprehensive, and she repeated herself, exaggerating the words carefully. Suddenly, it clicked and he grinned.

"Um, excuse me," he cleared his throat. "As interesting as this is, the lady here needs to use the restroom."

The man frowned. "Can't she hold it?"

She shook her head vigorously. Mulder added, "She's really gotta go. And so do I. Too much punch I guess." He shrugged.

Scowling, the man gestured them to stand and followed them to the restroom door. "No funny stuff, right?"

"Right...uh?"

"Oh, Martin. Inex Martin." He started to extend a hand, then cursed. "Great. Now you know my name, that means I'll have to kill you."

"No, no!" Mulder quickly assured him. "You're only supposed to kill us if we see your face, but since we've already seen what you look like, I guess it's only if you see our faces."

The man accepted this readily. "You going to go or not, lady?" She nodded and disappeared into the lady's restroom. "We wait till she comes out, then you and I will go in there," he pointed to the men's room.

"Fine with me, but I hope she hurries. Women always take too long in the bathroom."

A moment later, she emerged. She looked completely innocent, but Mulder knew that she now held the gun in the folds of her dress. Looking at Mulder, she blinked three times. He nodded once, so lightly that the man didn't notice.

"Ok, our turn," Martin said leaning against the door to push it open. Mulder glanced at the woman. She slowly blinked, once...twice...three times. He body slammed Martin, both falling into the men's restroom. The gun went spinning across the tile floor, and the woman swiftly pulled her own out and pointed it at the man.

"Don't even think about going for it," Mulder warned, as the man started to reach toward his weapon. With one hand, Mulder pulled the mask off of his face, which had been knocked sideways in the fall. With a sigh of defeat, the man sat up slowly, holding his hands in the air. "I just wanted somebody to listen to my story."

"Well, now its going to be a judge that listens." Mulder glanced toward the door and shouted, "Get in here!" Within moments, a flood of officers dresses as stormtroopers from Star Wars filled the small bathroom. They pulled the man to his feet, slapping cuffs on his hands. As they led him out, Martin began singing enthusiasticly in Italian.

Mulder and the woman stared at each other for a second, then both started cracking up. "Talk about psychotic impulses!" He grinned. "You okay?"

She nodded, still smiling. "Yes, I'm fine. You?"

Frowning slightly, he peered at her. He knew that voice...it haunted his dreams at night and filled his days at work. "Scully?"

She laughed, pulling the mask off. "Yeah, it's me."

Shaking his head, Mulder closed his eyes. "I don't believe it." He couldn't keep his eyes closed for long though. "I've never seen you like this..." he gestured in the general direction of her chest, then crossed his arms, suddenly embarrassed. He cleared his throat. "So, uh, how did you get your hair so long, anyway?"

Scully smiled and reached up to her hair, pulling the false ringlets out. She tossed them at him, and he jumped back with a startled yelp. "My god, its alive!" She stared at him as he eyed the hair that now lay on the floor. Gingerly, he touched with a toe. It didn't move, so he bravely bent over and picked it up. "You actually attached this...thing to your head? What if it sucked your brain tissue out or something?"

Scully sighed. "Mulder, there has yet to be a reported incident of a hairpiece feeding on someone's brain."

"The key words there being yet and reported. Someone couldn't very well report it if their brain had been sucked dry, now could they?"

"You have a point, Mulder," Scully sighed. "Now, as much as I enjoy speaking to you amid a row of urinals..." She moved toward the door.

"Uh, Scully?"

"hat is it Mulder?" She looked at him expectantly.

He looked sheepish. "Could I meet you out there? I uh..." He glanced at a urinal.

"Oh," she smiled faintly. "Sure. I'll just...go find Frohike."

A minute later Mulder came out to find a small number of people standing around the ballroom. Scully was reassuring Frohike that she hadn't been injured in the least. Assistant Director Skinner stood nearby, sweating in his Star Trek uniform. He approached when he saw Mulder standing near Scully. "Good work, Agent Mulder, Agent Scully."

"I guess the party's over, sir." Scully sounded regretful.

"Not quite," Mulder stated, and disappeared for a second. The lights dimmed, and a soft ballad came over the loudspeakers. He returned and squeezed his partner's elbow. "We have a dance to finish, if I'm not mistaken."

Skinner raised his eyebrows. The Lone Gunmen, Frohike in particular, looked disappointed, but neither agent noticed as they stepped into each others arms and began slowly dancing.

--end--