ximilia | text. un: knicksfan1961

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text. un: knicksfan1961

[ In 1999, usernames describing interests are king and web 2.0 has yet to be dreamt of. This looks like a place to keep a weblog, and Mulder's not opposed to the possibilities. ]

Since childhood, I've dreamt of space. Who among us didn't, raised as we were? We grew up in the shadow of JFK's promise to take America to the moon, watching Neil Armstrong's fateful steps on minuscule TV screens, sitting in sweltering living rooms and imagining we were the ones clambering out of Apollo 11. That it might have been faked by Stanley Kubrick is beyond the point; we were kids, and we believed.

I've taken a giant leap for a man, let alone mankind, waking up in what appears to be a space station and not a sound-stage built by the Walt Disney Company. I see no flaws as of yet, no flies in the ointment. And yet I confess that I'm suspicious.

My concerns are several, key among them the possibility that I'm actually dying in a cave somewhere under the surface of North Carolina. That this is a distraction from the real work I intend to do, lunatic hallucinations designed to keep me from escaping my fate - but if my mind doesn't deceive me, this could be the case I've waited for. There's no denying that the bargain I've (allegedly) made is a strange one, threatening the fabric of time and space. And yet it feels almost reasonable: if I can be stolen from a hospital bed to the furthest reaches of the universe, why can't I intercede in events that have already happened?

(Merely existing here, witnessing technology beyond any I've seen in my dealings with Cancer Man or his shadowy colleagues, already continues work I've chased for years. I want to know more.)

I'm keeping a careful eye out for anomalies in my perceptions, anything that might lend credence to my null-hypothesis (digestion by way of fungi). I'm also on the search for a functional television and VCR; among other things, I've arrived with a handful of videotapes, but I have no way of watching them.

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Though I recognize that this does not address your question; I was wondering if you would like a cup of tea, and perhaps a biscu...bite to eat?

[ Because you seem a little rattled, and in Lockwood's experience a nice cup of tea and a biscuit often helps. ]

Why not? I'm more of a coffee guy, but I'll take what we've got.

Meet you at the kitchens?

[ Believe it or not, text is not his typical form of communication. But he figures it out quickly enough. ]

I've always found tea better for the nerves, but I know my way around a coffee maker. I'll see what I can get started while I wait.

[ Which was meant to be an affirmative to meeting in the kitchen.

Lockwood didn't know if this man would actually show up or was just stringing him along, people could go either way in his experience, but he always tried to give the benefit of the doubt. As such he suited action to words.

Rather than make a whole pot of coffee, and since he was putting the kettle on with hot water for his own tea, Lockwood scrounged up a French Press to use for coffee. If and when Mulder arrived he would find a young man hard at work making hot beverages. Closer to eighteen than sixteen, bean pole slim, with his left arm in a sling and an iron rapier swinging off his hip. Despite the weapon, Lockwood's resting expression tended to be closer to a smile than a frown, so hopefully he presented a welcoming figured.

Motion at either doorway would draw his attention, and a full force of a megawatt smile. ]

Hello! You wouldn't happen to be 'Knicks' would you?

Then when I have a case of nerves, I'll give you a call.

[ The man who shows up in the kitchen is tall and casually dressed - and if he's not expecting a teenager, he at least has the good grace not to show it. (Not beyond the momentary raise of an eyebrow, anyway.) ]

You can call me Mulder. [ The kid looks like he really should be the one getting waited on, judging by that arm injury. He's dressed to the nines, by teenager standards - maybe they pulled him straight from Carrie's prom. ] Lockwood, right? You want a hand with that?

[ He really does need to find some different clothes. The work uniform took something of a beating and despite appearances to the contrary, he doesn't actually like running around the kitchen in a tie.

If Lockwood recognizes any hints of Mulder being surprised by his age he, likewise has the good grace not to show it. His smile is sincerely friendly, though professional in its reserve, and he holds himself confidently as he extends his right hand towards the older man. ]

Anthony Lockwood, but Lockwood is what I prefer. [ He agreed. ] A pleasure to meet you, Mulder.

I've got things managed, though I wasn't sure if you would rather something sweet or savory with your tea, er, coffee? I don't have the widest range of culinary skills but I'm sure I can find either a packet of biscuits, sorry, cookies or I can make some cheese on toast?

I spent a few years in Oxford. You don't have to translate for me.

[ Pleasantly, and with a broad American accent that wasn't touched by his sojourn in the UK.

Under the circumstances, he's tempted to insist on helping the kid out, but Lockwood seems determined to get this done on his own. Enough so that horning in on his territory - fancy drinks, by the standards of someone who owns a Mr. Coffee and hospitality - might close down the conversation before it really begins. So he leans against a wall, arms crossed loosely, and watches. ]

And I'm not too picky - I'll have whatever you're having.

[ Lockwood's smile broadens at Mulder's response, even as he makes the necessary mental notes about the man. The offer of coffee and something to eat were absolutely genuine, but Lockwood also makes use of moments like this to get a read on the people with whom he'll be working.

The fact that Mulder doesn't press the issue about trying to help him is also noted and, perhaps oddly enough, raises the man in Lockwood's esteem. ]

Cheese on toast it is then.

[ Initial pleasantries out of the way, the teen moved quickly back to work. If the heaping of grounds going into the press are anything to go by ... hopefully Mulder likes his coffee strong. ]

You made quite an impression with your words across our devices. [ He's a natural conversationalist, even in awkward moments, and takes his cue from the way Mulder settled against the wall, rather than asked a question of his own. A teenager he might be, but obviously comfortable leading an interaction. ]

I hope you don't mind that I listened in, where I could. You were gaining some interesting insight from our fellow team members, and while I am aware there is some sort of file floating about with previous mission information on it. I hate reading. [ That quicksilver, mischievous grin makes another appearances, just before he starts to add boiling water to the press, and to a mug with a tea bag in it. ]

Who's this 'Cancer Man' you mentioned?

[ Mulder shrugs. ]

It's what I'd do.

[ Listen in, that is. People say more than they realize - and Mulder counts himself among them, considering what the kid asks next. Can he talk about Cancer Man? Sure. Does he want to? Absolutely not. ]

He's a guy who smokes a lot of cigarettes. Looks like someone's grandpa, higher voice than you'd expect. If someone by that description shows up here, steer clear - he's bad news.

[ 'It's what I'd do.'

The response doesn't surprise Lockwood in the least; another note added to his mental file. Coffee and tea given time to brew, the cheese toast is pretty straight forward. A couple of slices of cheese on a couple slices of bread, under the broiler to heat while Lockwood puts down a couple of plates.

He pauses to glance towards Mulder when the older man gives that weaksauce response to his question. The way Mulder had framed his original words more than suggested that this 'Cancer Man' played a significant role in his world. The fact that Mulder was now obviously avoiding the topic was also very telling, and Lockwood let his expression say this without words. Lockwood weighed whether or not it was in anyone's best interest to pursue it, ultimately deciding to file it under 'adults and their sketchy behavior' file he keeps. ]

I've found it best to meet a person, and then draw my own conclusions. [ Everybody gets a fair opportunity to make an ass out of themselves in front of him. Most people live up to that opportunity, but every now and then a few folks pleasantly surprise him. ] But I will keep your warning in mind, should the need arise.

[ From the scents filling the kitchen, everything was ready to be plated and that was exactly what the teen focused on doing for the next couple of minutes. Only when cheesy toast, coffee and tea had been served, did he carry his to the center counter, grabbing a stool to sit on and motioning for Mulder to do the same, if he wished. ]

Did you locate a VCR?

[ He pulls up a stool as well, reaching for a piece of toast. It tastes like food - surprising, somehow, to end up in deep space and still have access to recognizable food, not tubes of sustenance or capsules.

No complaints, of course, but it's unexpected. ]

Not yet.

[ Not that he really wants to talk about the VCR, but the alternative is saying no, no, you can't screw around with the smoking man, you're a kid. The guy's always a step ahead and above everything Mulder investigates with Scully; what hope does a high-schooler have?

Fortunately, it won't matter until it matters. Right now, he's seen no evidence that the guy's here, and going over his crimes with this kid won't help anyone. ]

So what brings you here? Seems like you'd be better off working on your uni applications.

[ If only George were here. George would show Mulder real food, the younger boy was a culinary genius.

Picking up his tea, Lockwood is politely attentive with only his fingers tightening a bit around the mug when Mulder mentions the idea of uni applications. ]

For all intents purposes I've already graduated all of my available schooling. [ Which was not a lie, he had all of his certifications and then some. ] I run my own agency back home, and it keeps me quite occupied.

[ There is only a hint of an edge to his normally affable voice. It's the bleakness in his eyes, more than this tone that suggests Mulder said anything offensive. Best for them both that there was no verbal mention of 'high-school'.

But in a blink, all the edge is gone and Lockwood is once more his happy, smiling self. ]

Do you know what is one the tapes you brought? I'm assuming they're not movies, so are they some manner of research?

[ Mulder catches the tiny shifts of the kid's face and body, noting the tension running through him without thinking about it. He's always been Spooky Mulder to peers at the Bureau, but before he started chasing after X-files full time, he'd been a criminal profiler with the Violent Crimes Section. The skills he'd honed there are still a part of his arsenal, and this much he knows: Don't ask Lockwood about why he's a small-business owner when he should be fighting senioritis.

Or maybe do ask him, when it becomes necessary. But for now, let the conversation change. ]

I...do.

[ He swigs a mouthful of coffee to buy him a second. What's on those tapes? would be one thing, coming from an adult; he'd say something euphemistic and the conversation would move on. From a kid, he's decidedly less interested in giving a straight answer. ]

One's research - an alien autopsy. Paid 29.95 for it, plus shipping and handling. The rest are movies.

[ All true, technically speaking. ]

[ Lockwood isn't a criminal profiler and it is quite possible that the FBI as Mulder knows it, or rather the British equivalent does not even exist in Lockwood's world. He certainly does not have the older man's training or experience. He does have an innate ability to observe more than people may want to share, but this comes from his role as a leader to his team. And, if he were honest, it was still a developing skill. He'd missed the cues with Fairfax, which had nearly been a fatal lesson.

What Lockwood is good at is mercurial changes of conversation and mood. Mulder had him on his back foot for a moment, with the university question, then the older man released the pressure. Which Lockwood appreciated as it saved him some more creative avoidance. But then the conversation changed and Lockwood could read the same avoidance from the adult.

Now it was Lockwood's turn to decide whether it was worth asking about, or letting go for the time being. Like Mulder; he let it go. For now.

Rearranging his expression into something appropriately teenagerish and vapid, Lockwood reached for his cheese on toast before asking his next question. ]

An alien autopsy? Is that something you encounter a lot in your world? Aliens? [ Sorry Spooky, disbelief crept into his tone just then. Perhaps to his credit, Lockwood does look around the room, seems to remind himself where they are and in the next moment looks a little apologetic as he munches. ]

I do. [ This around a mouthful of cheese toast, which somehow tastes exactly like being at uni again. ] Most people? They see Jonathan Frakes introduce the idea on TV, shrug, and go about their lives.

[ He considers the need to say this, uh, isn't the same alien autopsy, this one is real and then decides that even if they come from the same time and place, that particular bit of must-see TV probably didn't make it over to the UK anyway. ]

But you could say aliens are kind of my thing. Among other things. [ It's conversational, and it's provocation - if not at Lockwood. He glances up at the corners of the room, like he might see a security camera in one. ] Bigfoot, hauntings, shadowy groups of men intent on controlling the world - I cover it all.

[ If Cancer Man's behind this somehow, then that's about as good as yelling his non-name and demanding a meeting. Probably. ]

What about you? What's your agency?

[ Unfortunately Lockwood has no idea who Jonathan Frakes is so that reference goes right past his head and this is probably reflected in his expression. Mulder gives just enough context that Lockwood decides it is not important to ask who is this Frakes, figuring it might be the same if he were to say 'Marissa Fittes talking about Type Three'.

The teen listens but he is also watching. He may not be well versed in the ideas of Bigfoot and aliens, but hauntings and shadowy groups of men intention on controlling the world all sound familiar. The way Mulder is casing the room is also observed, drawing a quiet comment. ] I'd be more concerned about the magic in this place. If they're listening in on us, they have ways above and beyond cameras.

[ Which is a reality that Lockwood is trying to reconcile with himself. Setting down his plate, he uses his good hand to pick up his tea. Yes, he's reaching for the comfort of tea; call him a British cliché if you must. The teen briefly weighs more avoidance, but comes to recognition that dodging the question would just be useless verbal fencing. Especially as Mulder just mentioned 'hauntings'. ]

We're ghost hunters. That, I suppose, is the easiest way to explain it. My world, my Earth we had an event known as The Problem. It's a convoluted set of circumstances and the subject of a whole host of conspiracies that I won't bore you with. The upshot is that my world is overrun by the Dead. Ghosts and spirits that have been the cause of hundreds of thousands of deaths over the past forty years. Agencies like mine, operatives like myself and my colleagues, we help protect people and ensure the dead, finally stay dead.

Magic, huh? I don't get that a lot.

[ It's a concern he usually only fields...well, in the field. And on a space station, it's the furthest thing from his mind: they're in the realm of science fiction here, not fantasy. All the eavesdropping he's familiar with, outside from remote viewing, has a basis in technology.

Scully'd be laughing, if she could hear the wheels in his head turning, the way his kneejerk reaction is a kind of amused disbelief. And then how, in response to that imaginary Scully, he's tempted to kneejerk believe the kid - but the important thing here is that Lockwood saw where his eyes went and sussed out the meaning of it without any help. He's a smart kid, clearly. Mulder has the feeling he'd do well to keep an eye on him. ]

Next time there's something strange in my neighborhood, I know who I'm gonna call.

[ He's not expecting this joke to land, either, content to tell it for the sake of it. ]

How long have you been ghost-hunting?

[ It doesn't even occur to Lockwood that someone wouldn't believe what he'd just said. The world had lived for close to half a century laboring under The Problem; who would question it? Lockwood might have to learn to adjust his expectations, since many people would feel about as skeptical about ghosts as he had about aliens.

But that was a future Lockwood problem.

The pop culture reference goes right over his head, his expression curious but blank of any recognition regarding Egon and the boys. He approaches the question as if it's genuine, unable to fathom that his answer will probably draw more skepticism. ]

Officially an operative must be thirteen years old before they can go into the field. My Sight has been strong since I was born and I was unofficially assisting my foster home from age six.

[ He says it without a hint of bitterness or that anything is amiss with this set up, because in his world it was just how things worked. Children and teens had the Talent. Adults didn't. Couldn't fight what you couldn't see, hear or touch so that left the kids on the front lines. ]

Six?

[ Whatever this kid's world looks like, it's clearly a bleak one. Child labor laws that leave a lot to be desired. No Ghostbusters. The dead everywhere.

He can't be more than twenty now, and from the look of him, Mulder'd guess less than. Over a decade in his work history, and he's barely an adult. It'd be infuriating, if there were anything he could do about it. As it is, he just feels a kind of weary kinship - the same one that exists for him in the face of every kid who's had to grow up too fast. ]

Sounds like the station's a big change.

Well. [ Lockwood began, because he was weighing Mulder's words. Like the whole of this conversation, they felt nuanced, with multiple layers and Lockwood was by no means comfortable enough with this adult to start peeling those onions.

He also suspected that reticence ran both ways.

Part of being able to read a room was also being able to read when it was time to gracefully exit stage left. He'd made good on his promise of tea and cheese toast, and to be quite honest; he was starting to feel the weight of Mulder's profiling abilities. Lockwood had a great deal of self-confidence, but he knew when he was outmatched, and he'd developed a well honed sense of who he could bluff past, and who to retreat from.

This was a time to retreat. A decision that past through his mind in the time it took him to say 'Well', take a breath and straight away from the counter. ] I do feel a sense of deep regret at the options for tea, but I expect I'll get used to it.

But now, if you will excuse me. It was a pleasure to meet you, Mulder.

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