#outsider's perspective

“I can’t explain it. I remember training her during her first time at Quantico. She was a medical doctor that choose to be an instructor. Then I heard she got assigned to the basement with Ol’ Spooky.”

“Spooky,” his wife paused in thought. “Haven’t I heard that name before?”

“Fox Mulder,” Seth clarified.

Rachel hummed in thought. She knew who Fox Mulder was all right. Seth hadn’t been the first FBI agent she had dated, not that she dated him, but the agents she had dated talked about Spooky Mulder. She saw his picture along with that Scully on The Washington Post quite a bit when there was a local or unusual homicide. She also knew Fox Mulder was also quite a catch. During Christmas parties, she overheard the gossip from the secretaries, especially the blonde one from some director named Kersh.

“Oh yeah, I know who you’re talking about,” she confirmed. Rachel turned back to her history papers. “He’s the little guy that chases aliens.”

“Well, he isn’t exactly little,” he said. “The man is over six feet. Unlike Agent Scully. Despite her small size. I still wonder how she even passed the physical qualifications.”

Rachel snorted. “Does that matter?

“I mean…” Seth looked up blustered from the exchange with his wife. His antiqued world views about women serving active duty roles in law enforcement and the military were outdated, according to his wife. “Are you trying to start a fight with me, Rachel?”

“No. Just making a point.”

“Does it matter? I mean, they’re more than partners. I’ve seen them come and go through the years.”

“I mean, I’ve heard from Bev how close her husband is to his partner and their marriage is fine.”

“Rick’s partner is Morales and Morales is a guy,” Seth said. He finally found a beer and began to struggle to find a bottle opener. “That doesn’t count.”

“Okay,” Rachel said. After a moment of thought, she said. “Carol Rivers.”

“Carol is married to the job and her partner bats for the other team. Try again.”

“Fine,” she said. “So you’re saying they’re like more than partners, like best friends.”

“Try again.”

“What could be more than best friends…” Rachel’s eyes widened. “You aren’t saying...aren’t their rules for that?”

“I am and yes, but that isn’t stopping them.”

Rachel shuffled her students’ history essays. “Well, I say good for them.”

“There are rules of a reason,” he reminded her.

“Quite your Old Boy attitude.”

As much as she loved her husband, she couldn’t help but feel like an outsider looking in with his life at the Bureau. There were other wives she had met and become friends with who had the same predicament. They bonded, became friends, and talked about their husbands. Quite frankly, she found it boring. The fantasy of two strangers should have only seen on the back of a newspaper or no mistaking Mulder was wearing the 11 o’clock evening news huddled together in some office, doing more...it was appealing. The fantasy had an allure that called like a siren to her. How exciting and passionate your life must be to be in a situation like that, having no one but each other to trust, against all odds. She felt the warm twinge of more passionate nights with her husband as she imagined having the same thing with her that Mulder and Scully had for each other.

“Rachel? Houston to Rachel, are you still with me?”

“Of course,” she answered, snapping out of her daze. She blinked and smiled automatically. “Did you ever catch them?”

Seth arched an eyebrow at his wife. “Why?”

“I’m just curious.” That incessant warmth between her own legs wouldn’t go away. “You know.”

“Uh,” Seth said, scratching the back of his neck. “Well, I didn’t but Tony...you remember Tony, don’t you?”

“Yes,” she answered distractedly.

“Well, okay. He said he did once one night a few months ago. I didn’t believe it myself until I caught a glimpse of it.”

“You saw it?”

“Very unprofessional if you ask me. He had her on the range table that you put your weapon on. I guess to make up for the height difference.”

“Height difference?”

Rachel’s mind was already trying to do the mental calculations on how such a feat would be possible.

“Yeah, remember the height difference? Anyways, that was the only time I saw it personally. If you ask me, there is no professionalism left in the FBI. I thought that would change after Doggett came to the basement after Spooky was abducted by aliens.”

“What?”

“Are you even paying attention, Rachel?”

“Of course,” she said. “Doggett. Aliens.”

“Anyways, Scully came back to the academy this past year to raise her son. Pity though. I don’t know the full story but Dennis told me they got Mulder locked up.”

“Locked up?” Her attention shifted from the annoying warmth to her husband. “What do you mean?”

“I don’t know. He’s just locked up in the brig. Look, I’m going downstairs to watch some of the game. I’ll see you in bed, okay?”

He gave his wife a chaste kiss on the cheek and took his beer downstairs to the living room. Rachel looked down at the ungraded history essays and decided that the nagging feeling deserved her attention. She didn’t want to admit it. She loved her husband and had a good marriage. But she wish things would just get spiced up. Hearing about Mulder and Scully and the one time her husband witnessed their escapades, she wished she could have traded places. Her husband only cared about professionalism and the FBI. Couldn’t he see when two people were in love? Or at least, she thought it was love.

She went upstairs to their bathroom, forgetting her grading. She shut the door behind her and stripped herself from her clothes. She started a warm bath and brought down the showerhead. As Rachel relaxed in the warm water, her needs satisfied, she thought about her husband’s boorish attitude. She didn’t know why, or how true it was, but it did sound sad.

By the time she got out of her bath and changed for bed, Seth was joining her. Rachel flipped her pillow and commented, “You know, if I were in Scully’s place, I would do whatever I would take to save him. Damn it to hell with professionalism.”

Seth rested his back against the headboard. “Where did that come from?”

“Just my two cents. If two people love each other, they should do anything for one another.” She settled down and turned her back to her husband. “Good night, Seth.”

He frowned and bent over to kiss her cheek. “You would tell me if I did something wrong, right?”

“Yes,” she said. Rachel turned her head slightly to kiss him back. “But I do think you to reevaluate your views.”

“I’m not archaic.”

“Just a bit,” she yawned. “Will I see you tomorrow before work?”

“No. I have to go in early. Before dark but I’ll bring home dinner.”

“Sounds like a plan. Night, Seth.”

“Night, Rachel.”

As his wife dozed off next to him, Seth turned on the television and lowered the volume. He gave no more thought to Mulder, Scully, or the FBI as he switched it to the History Channel and fell asleep.

The next morning before he awoke, Seth turned off his alarm clock and got ready for the day. Life in the Marines had taught him to rise before the sun and avoid the unnecessary alarm clock. He got ready, shaved, dressed, and grabbed his coffee to go. As he drove through on the Beltway down to Quantico, it remained dark. He exited onto Route 1 and drove the darkened road to the Marine gate. He slowed when he saw two cars on the side road. He slowed, thinking it might be some broken-down motorist. Even in the headlights, there was no mistaking Mulder wearing an orange jumpsuit, Scully, Doggett, Directors Skinner and Kersh, and two other people he didn’t recognize. For a brief moment, his foot hit the gas pedal, speeding up past them.

His brain raced, thinking he should turn around and do something. Maybe he was imagining it. But his thoughts were confirmed as he pulled up to the Marine gate. The Marine security guards were buzzing like angry hornets next. As he pulled up to the security booth, he pulled out his badge and security credentials.

“What’s going on, Corporeal?” he asked.

“Something about an escape, sir,” the young Marine. He waved Seth through. “You didn’t see anything on your drive here, did you?”

For some reason, he found thinking of his wife and answered, “No. I’ll be sure to do so though if I do.”

“I appreciate it, sir.”

Seth’s day as a fire range instructor was not memorable other than Mulder’s apparent escape. His drive home was also unremarkable. Coming home, Seth was reminded of the previous night when he found his wife still grading student history essays. He could hear the news in the background. “Hey, Rach,” he greeted, “kissing her cheek.”

“I saw there was some big security breach at Quantico today on the news,” she said. “Everything okay?”

“Yeah. There was an escape from the brig.” He went to the fridge to search for his beer. “Mulder escaped some time this morning.”

“Oh. Do you think they’ll catch him?”

“I don’t think so. They were past security before the Marines could catch on. I saw them on the side of the road on the way in this morning. I did say anything.”

“Wait, wait,” Rachel said, getting distracted. “My husband, Mr. Special Agent FBI Professionalism himself, went against the rules?”

“And my oath probably. But it’s none of my business. Maybe something my wise wife told me last night stuck around in my head.”

“So, you let them go? What have you done with my husband?”

“If they really loved each other, I should think they do what is best.”

Rachel blushed. “I’m just...surprised.”

Seth smiled and shut the fridge, forgetting his evening beer. “What do you say I show you?”

“Is that an invitation, Seth?”

“Maybe?”

She didn’t bother to listen to any more protests, instead returned and watched through the peephole as the android knocked on the door and was let in.

It was a face that both she and Mr. Thompson became familiar with. They got a name from the android, Nines and learned that he was Gavin’s work partner. Despite appearances, he was as lost and bewildered by humans as most people were. His social protocols were stilted, almost as if he had to learn them but wasn’t equipped to understand them.

“Really, Gavin dear.” Mrs, Thompson’s eyes sparkled as she puttered around the hallway after getting the post. “Nines dotes on you. Nobody has been by to see you this often, See it for what it is. Don’t be obtuse.”

“He’s a machine, following his programming. There is nothing more than that going on here.” Gavin hobbled past them on his crutches.

“Machine or not. He’s not a nannybot, is he? I believe he mentioned being a military android. Those are programmed to kill, not care,” Mr. Thompson chipped in and nodded to the stairwell from which Nines was emerging, bag carefully clutched in his hands.

“Gavin! You shouldn’t be up yet!” He was already chastising Gavin, LED red. “The doctors said you need to rest your knee for at least a week, it’s only been two days.”

Mr. and Mrs. Thompson shared a look as the returned to their apartment. Nines may well still be a machine but he was trying and to them, that was more than enough. Deviancy could always come later.

As time went on, Nines became someone they ran into with increasing frequency. He was always immaculately dressed though in the winter months, he took to wearing a scarf. One that Mr. Thompson was fairly certain he’d seen Gavin sporting before.

A knock on the door revealed a rather flustered Gavin a few weeks later.

“I don’t suppose you have any thirium based recipes?” He looked rather embarrassed to be asking but spent the next hour or so with Mrs. Thompson in the kitchen, learning to bake thirium cup cakes. Throughout it all, he was adamant that he was just trying to show Nines different sides of life. His partner (work partner, nothing more!) was still as much a machine as when he stepped off the assembly line.

This just wasn’t going to do. Both Mr. and Mrs. Thompson agreed that it had gone on long enough. Even if they were old, they weren’t blind or deaf enough to not see how Gavin and Nines cared about each other in their own ways. So they lay in wait, watched as Nines approached Gavin’s front door, even drew a key from his pocket. Just as he was about to put it in the lock, they opened the door.

“Good evening lad,” Mr. Thompson nodded.

“Nines,” Mrs. Thompson waved cheerily, holding onto her husband’s elbow. “We’ve got date night. Would you be a doll and make sure our place stays safe? Gavin’s been working so hard recently, he needs a bit of freedom so we don’t want to ask him.”

“Of course.” Nines nodded seriously. “I will ensure your home remains untouched.”

Patting him on the arm, Mrs. Thompson smiled at him. “You’re of the good sort. Gavin’s lucky to have you. Make sure you greet him with a kiss tonight. There has been quite enough dancing around between the two of you.”

“And that’s an order boy,” Mr. Thompson added. They teetered off on their date night, tittering and giggling. When they got back, there was a small basket on their doorstep. The usual chocolates, a potted plant and, to their utter entertainment, a pair of earplugs. Taking the hint, they took out their hearing aids for the night.