Title: Suffer the Children
Author: MJ
MJR91@aol.com

Summary: Hostages. Kids, a schoolbus load, at the National Aquarium. 

I pace the floor in front of the conference room whiteboard, on which I've
scrawled any number of small diagrams in red and blue marker. Four agents,
sleeves rolled up, Kevlar vests showing on two of them, slump at the table,
alternately working and trying to rest. Someone - who? - decided that I was
the best person to lead a multi-agency task force, so here I pace, as I have
for the past three days, directing FBI, Secret Service, and a few assorted
federal marshals. The Baltimore field office has seen better days.

Hostages. Kids, a schoolbus load, at the National Aquarium. Bad enough in any
circumstances. But when a senator and two congressmen have their kids on the
field trip in question, hostage incident escalates to national crisis level.

I was told I could bring my own people, so I did. With no pressing X File
investigation open, I brought Agents Mulder and Scully. I had specific reasons
for choosing them. I knew when I decided to bring them that I'd better be able
to articulate why. Scully is level-headed, practical, and a doctor. I
understand that one child is asthmatic, another epileptic. Mulder's done
hostage negotiation before, and he is still the best profiler this agency's
ever seen. I want that insight right now to deal with the bastards there at
the Aquarium. I need those skills. If, incidentally, my selection means that
I am working directly with my lover on this project, that is a fringe benefit
which neither of us has the luxury to enjoy. We have both been too drained to
exploit the situation.

I check my watch against the wall clock. Mulder has another two hours
scheduled on this current shift with the negotiation team. Two and a half
hours until I take the dinner and sleep break that Scully demands I take. She
knows I won't leave here until Mulder's gone off duty and come in from the
field.

Scully comes in bearing a tray of sodas. She places the tray on the table and
pointedly shoves a drink at me. I must be more dehydrated than I think. The
air conditioning here is, admittedly, poor, and I am stressed; perhaps I do
need it. It has caffeine in it, anyway; I know I ned that right now. She
looks around, sees the local boys concentrating on their own work, and touches
a finger to the back of my wrist. "He's fine, Sir." I nod. She knows, I
think; by now, how could she not know? Discretion is one thing; an ability to
keep secrets from Dana Scully is another.

"You've been on you feet for eighteen hours straight, Sir."

"I'm well aware of that, Agent Scully."

"You could put relief on now, Sir. You probably should."

"Agent Scully, I appreciate your concern for my health-"

"But you're not leaving yet. Neither am I, Sir. I know he's fine, but I'm
waiting here too. I think we'd both like to see him back here in one piece
before we take a break." He's lucky to have her for a partner. He'd probably
be dead by now if he didn't. Is she in love with him? I'm not sure. She's
shown no animosity towards me, even if she is in love with him, even if she
knows about us as I think she does. The fact that she cares about him as
obviously as she does charms me; much as I love Mulder, I know just how
impossible the man can be. Her tolerance for his foibles exceeds even mine.

A telephone rings. One of the locals, an Agent Shadle, answers it. He smiles
as he talks, nods into the phone, flashes a "thumbs up" towards me. "Good
news, Sir. They're leting the two sick kids, the asthmatic and the epileptic
ones, go. Agent Mulder's going in to get the kids now and he's bringing them
out. He should have them in about fifteen minutes."

"Agent Scully. Go get hold of the parents, get the medical team, and head down
to meet them. Thanks, Shadle. That's the first break we've had."

"The boys down at the Inner Harbor say your guy Mulder's doing one hell of a
job." My guy Mulder - that's about the size of it, I guess. My guy; my lover,
my partner of the past six months. We have been sharing a bed, if not an
apartment; much as we might like to, I can see no way for us to move in
together any time soon. We risk more than enough already simply by my being in
love with one of my own agents. 

Scully returns. "Sir? Did you want to go down to the Inner Harbor with me? 
There may be press there to deal with." I sigh, nod, look for my suit jacket. 
She drops a hand to my arm. "We should be able to bring Agent Mulder back with
us." Bless you, Scully. We head down in the elevator and into the car.

There is a mob scene at the Inner Harbor. Local television and network boys
are jostling for position; the senatorial offspring have seen to the network
crowd. Mulder is making his way out of the building with two - no, five -
small children. From photographs I recognize the asthmatic and the epileptic;
somehow or other, the three smallest children are also with him. Still nearly
thirty children inside, but Mulder's pulled off a minor miracle anyway. I
could kiss him, but that's not good copy at the moment. Some newspaper boys
call for me; I give them a standard "need to obtain further information" answer
and mutter about needing to have the children checked and to have a debriefing
with the agent in question. Great photo for the papers of two of the children
running towards their waiting mother. I direct a couple of marshals to help
pull press away from Mulder, who's trying to get the asthmatic kid - who's
wheezing pretty badly - handed off to a white coat and ducking questions.

Scully bundles Mulder off like a pro and pushes him towards the car. I head
there myself and climb into the back seat with him, venturing a hand squeeze -
all I dare at the moment. Mulder squeezes back, pushes my hand against his
thigh with his own hand. Scully climbs into the driver's seat. "We've got to
go back to the office," I remind her. "The rules call for immediate
debriefing."

Mulder sighs loudly. "It's only been fourteen hours - you're sure I can't grab
a nap first?"

Scully looks over her shoulder at the two of us. "You'll forgive my saying
so," she says archly, "but might I suggest, Sir, that any debriefing of Agent
Mulder that takes place in the next few hours happen back at the motel? I
don't think either of you is up to much else right now."

Mulder howls. "Scully, what kind of debriefing are you suggesting?" I'm not
sure if I'm laughing or I'm imagining things.

"That's none of my business, Mulder," she replies primly. " I believe that
that would be Assistant Director Skinner's area of expertise."

"Walter, what have you been telling her?" Mulder gasps between bouts of choked
laughing.

"Not a damn thing, Mulder. However, your partner is a trained observer."

Scully clears her throat. "Where am I heading, gentlemen?"

"You win, Doctor Scully," I inform her. "The motel it is."

"I don't want to see either of you out of that room for eight hours."

"Only eight, Scully?"

"Shut up, Mulder." A joint chorus from Scully and me. I squeeze Mulder's
thigh, feeling him press my hand with his own again. It's good to get this day
over and done with. "Let's go, Scully."


* * * * *


Our rooms at the motel connect; Scully's is across the hall from our rooms. 
Kim had booked adjoining rooms for Scully and Mulder, with mine across the hall
from them. Scully didn't blink when we checked in when I asked if she minded
switching rooms. She has the better view anyway, not that we've had much
opportunity to enjoy such things.

I have been awake for so long that I am having difficulty falling asleep. 
Mulder has no such problem; head against my shoulder, arm across my chest, his
breathing steady, he is sleeping the sleep of the righteous. As well he should
- he has, after all, performed a great feeat in getting those five kids released
at the Aquarium. I know him all too well, though - in his own mind, he has not
rescued five children but has failed to rescue thirty while less competent
agents take the new shift. If only he could stop blaming himself for his
triumphs as readily as he blames himself for his failures.

Suddenly he is bolt upright, not quite screaming but more than groaning;
perhaps I should call it "keening". He sounds nearly like a wolf, the cousin
to his namesake. Is he dreaming? No, no, not exactly - I've seen this before,
back in 'Nam. He's having a flashback in his sleep. What the hell has this
incident been triggering in him? I cannot begin to imagine what he sees. I
pull him to me, one arm around him, stroking him, while I reach for the bedside
phone with my free hand. "Scully - can you come over here? Mulder's having an
episode of some sort - it looks more like a flashback than a nightmare. I
think I could use some help."

I climb out of bed, wearing only my shorts - but had we not both been
exhausted, I probably would not be wearing this much. Well, whatever Scully
already knows from deduction she will manage to confirm by observation. A
knock at the door. Scully enters, hair pulled back, wearing an oversized man's
tee-shirt. I rush back to the bed; Mulder, still non-conscious, is curled in a
nearly fetal position, shivering. "Is this what he was doing before?" Scully
asks me as she reaches over to check Mulder's vital signs.

"No. He sat straight up, and he was moaning, or something like it - just
continuous sound, not words. He curled up like this after I got out of bed." 
No point either in lying or in delicacy at the moment, and not with Scully
particularly. 

"Get back in with him. We need to wake him up. He'll probably feel better
with you there, and if he has a bad reaction you'll be able to keep him still."
 Once a Marine, always a Marine; I know when to follow orders. I crawl back
under the sheets and work at uncurling Mulder. Scully sits at the side of the
bed, concerned, one small hand against Mulder's face. A whisper. "Mulder? 
Mulder? It's me - Scully. C'mon, Mulder - wake up there, boy." She shakes
him gently. "Hey there, Mulder. It's gonna be okay. I'm here. Wake up." It
occurs to me that I ought to be jealous off this easy familiarity, of the
secure assumption that Mulder will listen to her even in his sleep. Yet I
can't find it in me to be irritated, even though I am so exhausted that every
nerve is on edge. I cannot be jealous of this much unreserved concern about
Mulder; in fact, I have been finding these past few days that I love Dana
Scully for caring about him as she does.

"Uh- geez- God-" Mulder shakes his head, blinks. "Scully - I - uh - Walter? 
Where am I?" He looks around, collapses against me in a cold sweat. "Oh. 
Yeah. Baltimore. What the fuck just happened?"

Scully looks straight through him. "Skinner called me in here." I must remind
myself to tell her that there are some times she really should call me Walter. 
This would be one of them. "You were sleeping, but it looks like you just had
a bad flashback. Do you remember anything?"

Mulder nods, blinks, reaches for my hand. "Yeah, Scully. Going in there-
those kids' faces; they're terrified, absolutely scared witless-" He rubs his
other hand across his face, thinking. "When Sam was abducted- the look on her
face- I knew where my father kept his gun; I tried to get it-" He fades out. 
"The kids there, the guns - shit." Mulder draws himself up into a cross-legged
sitting position on the bed; I push more sheets up around him. "That's it- I
think that's it."

"Will you be okay?" Scully asks him. He thinks, then nods a "yes." She looks
at me, pointedly. "Are * you * going to be okay?" I nod. "Do either of you
need any sleeping pills? Will you be able to get back to sleep?"

"I'm okay, Scully," Mulder sighs, snuggling in against me. I probably could
use one, but I'd rather be tired later than foggy from pills. I wave a "no" to
her. "Thanks anyway."

Scully nods. "Call me if you need anything. Now, both of you, get some
sleep." I punch the too-soft motel pillow into a semblance of usefulness and
adjust myself against Mulder. It strikes me that I should feel more
self-conscious than I do. My lover's partner is watching their boss try to get
comfortable in a king-size motel bed with her partner, and she's not even
blinking. Maybe she's in a semi-detached "the doctor is in" mode. Maybe it's
the affectionate smirk she's giving as Mulder tries figuring out which angle of
my shoulder makes the best pillow at the moment. Her eyes drift over to mine
as she heads for the door. "He'll be all right, Sir," she says quietly. "It's
worse than usual, but he will be all right. Take care of our boy, hmmm?" She
slips out quietly.


* * * * *

We are back at the regional office the next morning, Mulder reviewing the night
team's experences with them and recapping for the day shift. He has his
debriefing shortly. I mainline coffee right now much in the way that I once
mainlined China white during my worst stretch in 'Nam. I can't help needing
the caffeine fix now any more than I could help needing the fix then, but to
different ends. I need to run a textbook debriefing for this crew. Worse, the
SAC, Levine, is handling media right now and wants Mulder to do a press
conference in an hour. 

One of the local boys passing through a corridor and a guy from the Secret
Service team high-five Mulder on their way past him. God, I could kill his
parents. He's dying at being reminded that he just rescued five children from
four armed men; any other agent would be counting days until promotion. He
looks over at me, pleading. "Come on, Walter. Get me back out there. Let me
do something useful here, huh?" I feel for him, but I have to refuse. The
dog and pony show has to go on; we have to feed the CNN wolves their raw meat.

Finally. Debriefing, strategy assessment, press conference. He may have hated
every second of it but he looked good there. It's practically lunch time. 
Someone offers to bring him a carryout salad. He asks for a sandwich, a soda,
and a lift back down to the Inner Harbor. He's chafing at the bit to get back
to his work on this.

Computer printouts we needed yesterday arrive at last - background on the
right-wing slimeballs holding the kids. Copies to me, several for the guys
strategizing at the table, more copies foisted on Mulder as he heads out the
door. Although profiling wipes him out, he still looks better than he did
either debriefing or with the reporters. He is in his element again, heading
back to the communications van down at the Aquarium. I swear that the worse a
situation is, the happier he gets at tackling it.

Agent Shadle calls me back to the telephone about an hour later. There's
action down at the Aquarium; the bastards may be letting some more kids go. 
Mulder's put in a request for me to get myself down there; it's not clear to
the agent reporting as to what is actually happening. Shadle hustles me to a
car and drives me down; en route, I piece together that the main targets were
the senator's and congressmen's kids all along. This wasn't a random hostage
seizure; these nuts have more balls than brains and are after the political
leverage of holding some congressional family members. Wonderful; right wing
looney tunes with an agenda and a plan.

Mulder's on the cell phone now seeking an authorization from me. These clowns
are tired of playing standoff; apparently they may let most of the children go
if they can leave with the three prize catches of the day. They have buddies
with an armored van they want to have pick them up. Mulder wants me to
authorize an assault team to grab them with the congressional brats on their
way out of the Aquarium. Levine, the SAC here, opposes the move; he sees
pictures of dead congressional offspring, investigations, and budget
reductions. Fucking wonderful.


I arrive at the crime scene - it's normally called a tourist trap, but today it
really is one - and scout locations. Mulder's in a communications outpost van.
 Jacket off, sleeves rolled up, tie loosened; he's getting a slightly glazed
look that I don't like seeing. I'm not sure if it's from exhaustion,
frustration with Levine, the pressure, or thinking about his sister. One of
the other guys in the van shoves a soft drink at him.

Levine makes a dead set for me as soon as he sees me. I have to agree with him
that there's tremendous risk to those three children in Mulder's scheme. I
also have to wonder if twenty-seven other kids and their families are going to
be okay. Can we afford to placate Congress in exchange for twenty-seven other
children's lives? If Mulder thinks he can get all but three kids away from
there in one piece, I don't think there's an option. It's what happens
afterwards that has to be considered. Mulder ducks out of the van to argue
with Levine again. I bite my lip. I'd like to kick Levine at the moment - but
damn if I don't want to box Mulder's ears, too. "Look, Mulder, you get those
kids out of there. Tell them anything. Tell them Santa's going to pick them
up and fly them to the North Pole, but get them to release those kids. That's
an order. Your end of this stops there. That's another order. Don't figure
out the cleanup, just get the kids out. Do you understand me?"

Mulder nods, doesn't even flinch. "Yes, Sir." Thank God for small favors;
he'd rather die than presume on this relationship to win against Levine. 

"Levine. You don't like assault teams? You tell me a better idea." I pull
him aside to debate the issue as Mulder, honor satisfied by my reaming both of
them, heads back to the communications van. It's time for me to take a meeting
with some of these Secret Service boys.

* * * * *

Two hours. We're still planning. Mulder's taken off the headset and reached
for the Kevlar. Shirt and tie off, Kevlar vest over the undershirt, everything
back on. A couple of the other agents are donning bulletproof gear. They're
pulling those kids out now? Damn, Levine and I aren't ready to roll yet.

He must have alerted Scully already; she's standing by with the medicos. No,
she's heading over to Mulder, tossing him a bullhorn. He's in the walkway with
Scully and the other two agents. "Okay, Harrison, we're here. Let's see the
kids. All of 'em. Line 'em up right outside the doors."

A shout from the building that I can't hear. Mulder nods to Scully and the
others, then unfastens his holster, draws his gun, and sets it on the pavement.
 The other three follow, one by one. "Okay, Harrison. Did you see that? 
We're unarmed. Nobody's on the sidelines. Have your men bring them out."

Two dirty, disheveled guys in what look like appliance repair uniforms
alternate lining up small, frightened children. Three, seven, ten, twelve,
fifteen. "Okay, Harrison, I'm sending two of these agents to bring this group
away." Scully and one of the male agents walk slowly dwn to the children;
Mulder dangles the bullhorn in one hand, wipes his face with the other. Levine
and I stand and watch.

"He's good," Levine concedes, muttering under his breath. He's damn good." 
Yes, I know he is, Levine. I'd like to smile smugly for a moment, but I don't
dare.

"Okay, Harrison, let's see the rest of those kids." Three, five, eight, kids
lined up by the uniformed grunts. Ten. Twelve. With the others, that makes
twenty-seven. "My people are coming down for them. You can take your men
inside." Scully and the other agent go for the second group. Mulder places
the bullhorn down by the guns on the pavement and begins walking forward,
towards the Aquarium, alone. What the fuck is he doing? He's just thrown the
textbook so far out the window it could never be rescued.

Scully races over to me. "Mulder's going in," she blurts. "He's body-miked
and he's wearing an earphone. He's trying to negotiate about those other three
children one on one with Harrison."

"Yeah, and he's got three armed goons with him. Mulder's unarmed."

"Not exactly," Scully replies. "Just hope they don't pat him down. He's got
two backup guns on him borrowed from some of the others, and I think he's got
my handbag .22 cal on him." Oh, I feel much better, Scully. He's not
unarmed, he's the OK Corral.

Scully sees my frown - I suppose it can't be missed, as far as that goes. "He
didn't want you to know he was planning to go in because we both knew what
you'd say."

"Agent Scully, am I to understand that you agree with this- stunt of Mulder's?"

"I didn't say that, Sir. But Mulder thinks there's a better chance of getting
those children out if he talks to Harrison directly. He thinks he could work
better in person- and if that in itself doesn't work, he's planning to push
Harrison into letting those three go and holding him."

I'm not hearing this. I am definitely not hearing this. Mulder, if you get
killed, I'm going to- uh, no, strike that. God damn it, why are you pulling
this? "Scully-"

She looks directly at me, not blinking. "He presumes that you'll be more
reasonable about the assault team question if there's one federal agent inside
rather than three children in there with Harrison. Whether you go in on the
building or after their transportation, you have an adult volunteer who's paid
to know the risks entailed. Sir."

"Scully!"

"I couldn't stop him, Sir. And- he may just be right."

"Scully," I hiss, hoping Levine and his friends are out of earshot, "I can't
send a team after them with him in there. Not if I don't have to. I won't
make that call." I can't say more than that with Levine nearby.

Scully's gaze softens. I realize that the most self-controlled human I've ever
met is on the verge of tears. She nods, slowly. "I - I know that, Sir." 
Swallowing.


Levine picks up on the discussion as he perceives it - neither of us will
correct him, I know. "So - her boyfriend set her up to break the news? Sweet
guy. Agent Scully, you sit down for a while. If your boss doesn't mind,
that's an order." Scully and I both nod. There's noise, some activity. What
now? One of the agents back at the communications van runs over to us.

"Agent Scully," the messenger calls. "Agent Mulder's gotten Harrison to send
those last three kids out now. He wants you to come down for them." Scully's
face goes back into "agent in action" mode as she heads for the doors of the
Aquarium building.

"She's some woman."

"Yes, she is," I agree to Levine, though not for what I'm sure are Levine's
reasons. She can handle Mulder, can even take care of him, in a way that no
one else can, and I am coming to depend on her for that Jealousy would be
absurd- and would probably kill my relationship with my lover. Better to
acknowledge, and to take advantage of, what is freely offered. "Okay, Levine. 
We've got limited time and choices, and they've got a federal agent. Option
one - we let them go, free and clear. Rate that."

"Not an option," Levine responds.

"Two. Assault team goes in now."

Levine shakes his head "no" vigorously. "Not if we can help it. That's the
National Aquarium. Aside from threatening endangered species, and aside from
imagining the possible flooding- major electrical fire hazards unless we cut
power- we'd need blueprints, maybe an architect, the fire department, the
electric guys- too complicated."

"Three. We let their van come for them, then take the van."

Levine shrugs. "They could get away. And possible danger to a federal agent."

"Any other thoughts, Levine?"

"Not at the moment, Sir."

"You call it."

Levine nods. He waves across rhe plaza. "Someone tell Mulder in there that
we're contacting Harrison's buddies with the van." He flags another agent. 
"Assault team. Now. Get them here and get them hidden.
We're letting them go and taking their van once they leave. Do it."

I sit down. I have visions of maniacs in pseudo-uniforms, an attack team in
windbreakers, armor-piercing loads in weapons. I see six dead lunatics, and
one Mulder splattered over all of them. I think I'm going to be sick.

* * * * *

Two, two-and-a-half hours. A gray van pulls up loaded with more electronics
than I've ever seen on non-government vehicles. It's armored, all right - it's
waiting for the next damn war is what it's doing. Right wing militia kooks
bent on paramilitary bullshit, the sort that blow up buildings and people
without a second thought while I worry about my lover getting killed and Levine
worries about the lives of innocent endangered shellfish. Two grunts, again
in those appliance repair uniforms from Sears, visible in the front of the van;
heat detectors aren't indicating anyone else in the back.

Out comes the hostage-taking crew. Harrison, Mulder between two of the armed
goons, looking perfectly calm, and the last of Harrison's uglt thugs. They
climb in the back of the van, Mulder shoved in first. The doors shut. The
engine starts; the driver shifts into gear, and the passenger door flies open
towards the plaza, Mulder flying out of there like a bat out of hell and taking
a roll onto his shoulder as a few shots fire after him from the door as the van
jerks away, someone inside grabbing for the doors. The assault guys are ready
to go into overdrive, but I'm watching Scully and a couple of the medic types
running over to Mulder, who is pulling himself gingerly into a seated position.

Levine can have his fun with the assault team; I don't care. We got the kids
out, all of them, and if Mulder's sitting he's all right. His shirt is torn; I
see blood, but he must be all right if he's moving as he is. I want to run
over there myself, but I don't dare; at least I can see that I won't need to. 
If there were any chance he were seriously hurt- yeah, yeah, I'd be over there.
 One of the medics flags an ambulance parked to the side.

Scully walks over. "He's pretty badly bruised from that tumble, no surprise. 
I think he's got a dislocated shoulder, and I'm not certain about a couple of
his ribs. He does have a couple of bullet grazes - they had pretty good aim." 
She purses her lips. "He's going to be fine. They might not even keep him
overnight."

"Thanks, Scully."

She drops a hand on my shoulder. "Sir - do you need to stay here, or would you
prefer that I give you a lift to the hospital?" I think, then mumble to
Levine, who tells me to go deal with my agents. He's a good man, really; I can
delegate this cleanup to him. Scully slides an arm around me as I rise. "Sir
- are * you * going to be all right?"

"I'm fine, Scully."

"Sorry, Sir, but I'm not sure I agree. You've been through a lot since last
night." Last night. Mulder's flashbacks. I had almost forgotten. She tugs
me towards the left; now I can see her car. "I can only imagine what you must
have been feeling when Mulder went in to see Harrison."

"Scully, Mulder really thought we'd send an assault team, didn't he?"

"I think so, Sir. He'd resent your departing from procedure just because-
well-"

"Because we're sleeping together?" I supply for her as she unlocks her car
doors.

"No, Sir; I was going to say, because you're so obviously in love with him."

I climb in. Damn - short driver, seats way up to the front. I fiddle
underneath the seat, looking for the seat adjustment and blushing. "It's that
obvious, Scully?"

"I don't suppose it would be to anyone else, Sir, but I'm right there with both
of you." She starts the car. Damn these automatic seat belts, too. Whatever
happened to 1962 Chryslers, the sort of car that had the room for you to lose
your virginity in comfort? What the hell do teenagers do with these
uncomfortable sardine cans?

I lean back in the seat. "You love him too, Scully." An observation, not an
accusation.

"Someone has to," she laughs. "Not the same way you do, Sir, of course-" She
turns the corner. We're heading towards Johns Hopkins. "I wish he loved
himself more," she tells me. "That's why he's able to do this sort of thing." 
She's angry; she's venting at me. I'm listening. "It's easy to think you're
expendable when you don't see any value to yourself. He's got such incredibly
low self-worth." We pull up at a light. She turns to me. "If there's any one
thing you can do for him that nobody else can, it may be that." She bites her
lip. "Please- try."

It may take a long time, but I intend to.

The End


"I'm your boy, Sir!" -- Folie a Deux
"Wake the Russian bear, and he may find we have stolen his honey." -- CSM,
"Terma"

XFU, xslash, slashx, nick-fixx, OBSSE, FWMW, NLEB, PGTF, Desk For Dana#443
http://members.aol.com/mjr91/ficintro.html