Title: SO THIS IS AGENT MULDER... 
Author: aka "Jake"
Rating: R (Language) 
Classification: V
Keywords: Doggett POV 
Spoilers: Up through early Season 8   

Summary: Agent John Doggett finally meets MIA Agent Fox Mulder. First impressions are everything, they say.   

Disclaimer: Do these characters really belong to Chris Carter, FOX and 1013 Productions? If so, no copyright infringement intended. Fun, yes. Profit, no. 


So This Is Agent Mulder...
By aka "Jake"


So this is Agent Mulder. Dana's long lost partner. The real deal. Not the man I saw on an Arizona cliff, the guy who "looked like Mulder but wasn't Mulder," kidnapping Gibson Praise, evading capture. Not a shape-shifting, bounty-hunting doppelganger from outer space...if you believe in that sort of B.S. This is *the* Agent Mulder. The man who exposes government plots, hunts alien invaders, makes theoretical leaps in a single bound. I'm surprised he isn't wearing an "S" on his chest...or a little tinfoil cap on his head. Golden Boy or lunatic, he's dressed in ordinary blue jeans and a T-shirt -- much like his imposter in Arizona. 

Although he's freshly scrubbed, dressed in clean clothes, hair combed, nails clipped and probably ass wiped, Agent Mulder smells...bad. The odor reminds me of a place I visited years ago, back when I was serving warrants -- a torched animal shelter. You don't forget a stench like that. Burnt hair. Cooked flesh. Animal excrement. The whole building reeked. The same terrible air of death clings to Mulder now and the stink sets my teeth on edge. 

Jesus. Agent Mulder's been fucked over with a capital "F." Black-and-blues cover his neck and head. The cuts on his face look like roadmaps to Hell. His hands are crisscrossed with scratches, and the split knuckles would indicate he didn't go down without a fight. Both his wrists are bandaged and I can't help but wonder if the hidden wounds are self-inflicted. 

Mulder's eyes dart around the room as if he's keeping tabs on ghosts. Being abducted by EBEs must take a sizable chunk out of a man's sanity. That's where he claims he's been, by the way. On a ship of extraterrestrial origin. I don't know if I should laugh or believe him. Dana believes him and I've come to trust her instincts, so if she accepts what he says is true, I guess I have to, too. At least until proven otherwise. 

AD Skinner is here backing them both and he's about as straight-laced as they come, so who am I to argue? Sitting behind his desk, the AD is strung tighter than usual today. Jaw set. Shoulders back. Ready to rush the next hill and conquer the universe. His scowl could singe the devil himself. Glad I'm on his side. 

At least, I think I'm on his side.

Mulder stands in front of Skinner's desk, scarcely able to keep himself upright. Dana paces the room. Her eyes never leave her swaying partner and she stays within arm's reach as she walks around him. She's prepared to catch him if he drops. For the time being, though, he's holding his own. Barely. 

After an unscheduled eight-week absence, Mulder unexpectedly resurfaced early this morning. I didn't hear the news through official channels, unless you consider the bullpen "official." My exclusion from the loop wasn't worth taking personally however. Christ, Dana's had plenty on her mind lately. And let's be honest, I never did make it onto her speed dial. Hell, I was satisfied when she finally started to call me John instead of Agent Doggett. 

As soon as I'd learned Mulder was back among the earthbound, I phoned Skinner and bullied my way into his unofficial, pre-Kersh debriefing. It wasn't an easy boxing match. I had to remind the AD exactly how I'd risked my ass filling in for our wayward agent over the past several weeks. It wasn't until I mentioned the slimy creature I sliced outta Dana's back in Juab County, Utah, that Skinner finally relented and allowed me access.

Holy Mother of Christ, the glare Dana shoots at me when I crash their private party could frost Mercury. I've seen Lebanese sandstorms that look friendlier than the "no trespassing" signs flashing in her eyes. Message received loud and clear, Agent Scully: no intrusions on Mulder's homecoming speech. I close my mouth and slide into the back of the room as inconspicuously as possible. 

No one makes any introductions, but the way Mulder eyeballs me, I get the impression he already knows exactly who I am. And he doesn't seem at all pleased I've been keeping his seat warm while he's been away. It's clear he doesn't trust me as far as he can throw me, and considering the shape he's in right now, that wouldn't be very far. 

The feeling's mutual. I don't trust him either. Dana may think the guy's a Boy Scout but I gotta go with the facts. And the facts include car rental receipts on Agent Mulder's Visa, four consecutive weekends in May, same mileage each trip. A debit to a Raleigh, North Carolina, mortuary. A headstone in the Mulder family plot with Fox Mulder's name engraved at the bottom. Then there are his medical records -- recent stuff, from the past year. Clear documentation of physical decline -- Dana saw the documents herself and vouched for their apparent authenticity. And let's not forget the kidnapping of Gibson Praise and our merry chase through the Arizona desert. 

I get Mulder, I really do. I understand obsession. So I gotta ask how far would he go? I mean, would he stage his own disappearance to buy himself time to gather the proof he thinks he needs? 

I'm told Agent Mulder is only after the truth. Well, so am I and I worked tracking fugitives for the NYPD long enough to smell a red herring. The question now is who's responsible for this smokescreen? Mulder? Or, as Dana suggests, is he just being used?  

I stare right back at him. What the hell else can I do? 

"Their timetable?" Skinner asks his itinerant agent, not the least interested in the private face-off between Mulder and myself. After all, a planned alien invasion usurps almost anything else you can think of. And Deputy Director Kersh has scheduled a little inquisition of his own at 0900 -- a half-hour from right now.

"Not sure. Soon," Mulder whispers, his voice sounding raw. He shakes when he speaks. Exhaustion threatens to drop him where he stands. "Busy...getting ready."

"How many are there?"

"Lots." He chuckles at this, although I can't imagine why. "They know about...about the vaccine. They're prepared this time."

"Prepared? How?"

"Blood. Mine. Provided the necessary ingredients for their secret recipe."

"What about the Faceless Rebels? Can we expect help?"

Mulder nods and the effort causes a spasm of pain that nearly topples him.

"What are 'faceless rebels'?" I chance a question and earn three sets of angry eyes. "If it's any of my business." 

"An extraterrestrial resistance group," Skinner says, although it's clear he doesn't want to waste precious time bringing me up to speed. "They're interested in preventing the alien invasion."

"Why?" 

From everyone's expression, I'd have to guess this is a new question.

"A lot of the details remain sketchy, Agent Doggett," Dana says. At some point in the last few hours she's decided to drop our hard-won informality. "We don't have all the answers." 

"Do we have any?"

"We know they have a lethal virus." Dana continues her pacing, hands on her hips, eyes still fastened on Mulder although she speaks to me. "Held within the pollen of genetically altered corn, the virus is to be distributed by bees whose sting transmits the pathogen, causing--"

"Causing the growth of an extraterrestrial biological entity inside its human host," Mulder finishes for her.

I try to picture it, but I simply can't make the image come. "Inside...?"

"Infection is always fatal unless the vaccine can be administered within ninety-six hours."

Jesus Christ. The scope of this nightmare makes Anthony Tippet's bad dreams seem like kid's stuff. I can't accept it. I just can't. Viruses and aliens and planned invasions...it's too much. Maybe Mulder's been sitting with this stuff long enough to believe it, but my brain is shouting for a time out. "Dana, do you...do you really believe all this? You've actually seen it?"

"Two and a half years ago...I was infected. I would have died if..." She stops, struggling to control her emotions. This is hard for her. Obviously, it's personal. But I suspect the intangibility of the circumstances frustrates her, too. She has no evidence to hang her hat on. Dana's background is in science and I've worked with her long enough to know that's where she looks first for answers. I've also worked with her long enough to know she's willing to open her mind to more extreme possibilities when science doesn't provide any answers. But aliens from outer space? How can she accept such an impossibility? She clears her throat, steadying her voice. "Our only defense is a weak vaccine."

"*Was* a weak vaccine," Mulder corrects her. "Now that's useless, too. They've developed an uber-virus...thanks to me."

"Can't we develop a stronger vaccine to counteract their new virus?" I suggest.

"Not with our current technology and the given timetable." Mulder shuffles to one of the chairs facing Skinner's desk. He walks like an inmate who's been wearing shackles for half a century. When he eases himself into the chair, he exposes a line of fresh blood running across the back of his right hand, originating from somewhere beneath his bandage. 

"It took more than fifty years to develop the last vaccine," Dana tells me. She notices the blood, too.

"My fault," Mulder mutters. "Shouldn't have gone to Bellefleur."

Christ, I'd hate to carry the guilt this guy must be feeling. I'm guessing he expected to be the hero in all this, infiltrating the enemy camp and bringing back Lord-knows-what to stop Armageddon and save the day. Instead, he's unwittingly aided and abetted the bad guys, whoever the hell they are. I'm not yet willing to concede the black hats are from any world other than our own, but somebody's responsible for beating the crap out of Mulder. And that same somebody scares the hell out of Dana and Skinner.   

"They would have found you wherever you went," Skinner tells Mulder.

"Maybe they didn't know...didn't know I was immune...until they did the tests."

"Stop blaming yourself. They know everything."

Skinner, Mulder, Dana -- they look beaten down. Not hopeless exactly, but bone tired. 

"Nobody knows everything," I say, "And everyone's got a weakness. You just need to find it. What other weapons do they have? Is the virus their only means of attack?"

They stare at me as if I'd morphed into a green-skinned alien myself.

"I'm going back," Mulder announces, struggling to his feet. 

Dana is immediately at his side, steadying him. "You're in no condition to go anywhere, Mulder," she whispers.

"No choice. My day pass is running out."

"What the hell are you talking about?" Skinner's on his feet now, too.

"When the Rebels attacked the ship, they set fire to everything on board." 

Well that explains the smell I noticed when I first walked in. 

"They freed me, but only for a few hours. They want me back. They're waiting now."

"No. They can take me instead," Skinner volunteers, adamant.

"Sorry, sir, wrong blood type. The Rebels were too late to destroy the new virus. The Alien Invaders had already FedExed it to their buddies back home. So the Rebels took the next best thing -- me. They want to use me to recreate the new virus...and then develop an antidote. And I plan to help them. Sir, you're the only one I trust to watch Scully's back while I'm away."

If that's an insult aimed in my direction, I take no offense. Hell, Mulder doesn't know me any more than I know him. He hasn't any idea I've been playing white knight to his partner while he's been fighting for the future of mankind. 

With a quick glance at Skinner, Dana laces her fingers through Mulder's, hiding the blood on his hand with her palm. "No. You can't go back. Not now. I-I need you here."

"Scully..."

"I won't let you go. Not alone. Not again. I'm going to go with you this time."

Both Skinner and Mulder object and then it hits me. All the clues fall into place. The doctor's appointments and the hospital stays, the way Skinner covers for her...she's pregnant, for Christ's sakes. My eyes go straight to her stomach and I feel like such a fucking idiot. She and Mulder are not just partners; they're lovers and she's carrying his child. I suddenly feel like the world's stupidest detective.

Dana's pregnancy, Skinner's concern, Mulder's injuries all add up to the same thing: Mulder never staged his own disappearance. There are no selfish motives here. What they've been saying about an alien invasion is grounded in truth, no matter how bizarre it sounds. To top it off, Mulder expects to walk right back into the middle of it. 

Wrapping his arms around Dana, Mulder plants a kiss on the top of her head. "Don't worry, Scully. They promised to let me out for good behavior."

"I don't trust their promises," she mumbles into his shirt.

"Then trust mine. I promise I'll be back before he's born." He holds her more tightly and aims a lopsided grin at Skinner. "Besides, Uncle Walt will be here if you need anything."

"Believe it," Skinner assures.

I'm reluctant to intrude on their sentimental scene, but I've still got questions. "Agent Mulder, why let you go at all? Why let you return here today?" 

Mulder draws back from Dana to study me. He's taking stock, judging my trustworthiness, my loyalty, my beliefs.

"To enlist reinforcements. The Rebels need a little help organizing an effective human resistance. Staging a few well-placed diversions. Infiltrating a couple of strategic strongholds." He squints at me. "The chances of success are kinda slim, but the cause is just."

Well, what do you know? It's an invitation. So this is Agent Mulder. Not a kidnapper. Not a crackpot. He's a man of courage. A good and brave man, throwing himself at an inhuman threat from the stars, ready to risk his life for a greater good. And willing to trust me to help him. The guy's a damn hero. 

Hell, maybe we'll both be heroes before it's all over. 

"I'm in...if you'll have me," I tell him and when he extends his hand, I shake it, sealing the deal with a smear of his blood across my palm. 

Dana and Skinner merely blink at us, unable to believe what just happened. The Lebanese sandstorm expression has vanished from her eyes and Skinner looks downright envious. Mulder doesn't give either of them the opportunity to speak. 

"Any partner of Scully's must have a good quality or two,"he says.

I nod, hoping I haven't just made the biggest mistake of my life. "So what's next, Agent Mulder?"

"The shit-storm of all time, Agent Doggett. You ready for it?"

Strangely, I find that I am. Not exactly what I was expecting when I got out of bed this morning, but I'm an optimistic man. 
Despite the odds, I'm in this game now, and Mulder and I are about to take our best shot for the home team. 

Besides, I'd rather face an army of little green men than try to explain to Deputy Director Kersh how Agent Fox Mulder slipped through the FBI's fingers a second time.


THE END (at least for now)


Author's notes: I've been hankering to do a Doggett fic. I like him. He's no Mulder, but I like him anyway, and he and Mulder would make an awesome team. Due to reader requests, I've written a sequel to "So This Is Agent Mulder..." called "Sieg und Verlust."