Socks

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Chapter One: Socks
by Abree
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"Someone left the cake out in the rain..."

Brian Pendrell tossed a can of Sonic the Hedgehog Spaghetti-O's into the cart. Dinner for Friday. Now, Saturday...

"I don't think I can TAKE it," Donna Summer wailed over the grocery store's sound system. "'Cause it took so long to BAKE it!"

He snagged a Sara Lee cheesecake as he walked towards Aisle 28. "Subliminal advertising," he muttered sourly. He passed by two men in leather jackets examining coffee cans with a high degree of interest.

"And I'll never have that recipe again..." Ah! Lipton's Chicken Noodle soup. He took three boxes and went off in search for his Sunday meal.

"Oh nooooooooo - " He attention quickly turned its focus to the sound of wildly squeaking shoes. A man in a low brimmed baseball cap and a green sweatshirt took off like a rocket past Brian. His hand slammed into the cart and caught.

The two men, who seemed to have lost their interest in Folger's Crystals, reappeared around the corner. The man glanced at them in a panic, sent a quick look of desperation towards Brian, and gave his arm a horrific yank.

His arm came loose. The man raced for the door, the two men hot on his heels. Brian stared for a moment before picking up the arm and waving it aloft.

"Hey! You forgot your arm!"

There was no answer. Brian paused for a moment, wondering whether he should get involved or simply lay the arm on the shelf next to the Prego spaghetti sauce and walk away. He remembered the man's quick, pleading look of terror and made up his mind.

He carefully set the arm on the shelf, putting a jar of Prego in it's waxy hand. He grabbed a box of macaroni and cheese and walked down the aisle as Donna reached the 300th syllable in "no."

This was Washington D.C. He wasn't about to do anything as foolish as get involved with complete strangers.

****

The parking lot was deserted.

Brian looked around a little warily. There was no sign of the man in the green sweatshirt or the men who had followed him. He breathed a little easier. He did make sure his right arm was free to reach for his gun if need be.

He found his car and set the bags on the roof. As he unlocked the door, the milk began to slide back down. He irritably reached up and pushed it back.

A hand touched his hip. All the blood in Brian's body immediately raced to his heart, which began to do a drum solo in his ears. Before he could react, the hand had pulled his gun out if its holster and was training it on his head.

"Turn around," a male voice ordered.

Brian did, wincing as the milk slid off and crashed to the ground behind him. The man with the green sweatshirt was back, his shaking hand causing the gun to wobble dangerously. He looked around for a moment.

"Um, look," Pendrell stuttered, "I don't have much money, but you can go ahead and take the car. I don't want any trouble. You - "

"Shut up," the man hissed. He struggled to touch the trigger. "Look, I'm kind of in a hurry. I'd like my arm back, if you don't mind."

"Oh. I left it in the store," Brian explained, taking small steps out of the gun's aim.

"You what?" the man exclaimed, his nerveless hand dropping the gun. It hit the pavement at an angle and went off, striking Brian's car with a loud metallic clang. The man winced as a man from across the lot shouted to his cohort.

Brian quickly snatched back his gun and opened the car door. "Get in," he whispered, training the gun on the man with a much steadier hand. The man crawled into the car and huddled down in the backseat. Brian slammed the door and began to wave the gun around angrily as the two men approached.

"Hey, you! Did you - " The taller man quickly shut up as he noticed the gun. "Umm...is everything all right, sir?"

"No!" Brian shrieked, wondering how much longer he had to live. "That guy! That - uh, that thief!"

"The one in the green sweatshirt?" the shorter one asked.

"Yeah, him!" Brian let his flailing hand point at the two men, who cringed and ducked back. "He drives up in this stolen car, yells at me, and shoots my car!"

"Where is he now?" the taller one demanded.

Brian shrugged, feeling rather hysterical. "He drove off that way," he said, gesturing towards the parking lot's exit. "But it's just maddening, what people are doing today! Shooting and causing people like me all this stress!"

"Thank you, sir!" The two quickly turned and ran for their car.

"No, thank you!" he screamed after them. His fingers, numb from trying to keep a grip on the gun for so long, went lax. The gun hit the pavement and went off again, adding another dent onto Brian's passenger-side door.

Brian heard a yelp from inside the car. He waited until he saw the two men speed away before opening the door.

The man tumbled out, jittery with nervous energy. "Thanks," he muttered, keeping his head low.

"No problem," Brian said nervously, reaching for his gun.

The man tumbled in front of him and grabbed it. He pointed it at Brian. "My name's Alex," he said, standing up.

"Brian. Pendrell," Brian said, inching slightly to the left.

"Thanks again, Brian. Um, now, my arm?"

"Oh! Right." Brian glanced at Alex's empty sleeve for a moment before slowly turning and inching his way towards the store.

"Sorry about this," Alex said from behind him, keeping the gun trained on his back. "It's just that my arm is VERY important to me."

"To tell you the truth, it's kind of cheap looking," Brian said tentatively.

Alex pressed the gun into the small of his back. "I don't know. I've learned not to judge things by their appearance."

"Right," Brian whispered.

They finally reached the door. Brian tugged on the handle, but the door refused to open.

"It's locked," he hissed.

"Then knock!"

Brian pounded on the door. The owner walked past, waving his hands in exasperation. "I'm sorry, we're closed!" he called.

"It's important!" Brian hollered.

"Sorry! We open at 9 a.m. tomorrow!"

Brian turned to Alex. "I don't know what to - "

He paused. "Oh, yeah." He snatched the gun out of Alex's hand and found his badge. "WAIT!" he shrieked. "I'm a federal agent! Open up or I'll have backup here in five minutes!"

The man stopped in his tracks and slowly turned. "What are you doing?" Alex hissed, pawing for the gun.

"Just wait!" Brian pressed his badge against the window. Alex knocked the gun out of his hand and it smacked the pavement once more. A bullet embedded itself in the ceiling above them.

"What is WRONG with your gun?" Alex demanded, picking it up gingerly and concealing it behind his jacket. The man opened the door hesitantly.

"Special Agent Brian Pendrell," Brian said solemnly, trying his best Mulder impression. He flipped his badge open and held it three inches from the man's nose. "I need to check your store for, uh, stolen goods."

The owner shook his head vigorously. "I don't know anything about - "

"Please." Brian quickly slid his hand under Alex's jacket and snatched the gun back. "I don't want to have to use this."

The man's eyes bulged out of their sockets. "All right. I'll, uh..."

"Why don't you just stay up here while we look," Brian suggested kindly.

"Sure. Right. Great."

Brian nodded once and strode off towards Aisle 28. Once out of sight, he began to giggle madly. "Can you BELIEVE that?" he said, stuttering with laughter. "God, we're lucky he didn't ask any questi - "

"You're a federal agent?" Alex demanded. He paused and yanked the gun out of Brian's hands as they approached Aisle 28.

"Yeah, I work in the Sci-Crime lab. It can be boring as hell sometimes, but man, some of the female agents - oh, here we are." Brian quickly dislodged the Prego jar and handed Alex his arm.

"Hold out your hand," Alex said briskly. He set Brian's gun down on the shelf and quickly shook the false arm. A canister of film dislodged itself and fell into Brian's waiting palm.

"Yes," Alex breathed, his body collapsing with relief. He dropped his arm on the floor and took the canister. Brian took the opportunity to tuck the gun safely into its holster.

A shot rang out. For a moment Brian was sure his demon-possessed gun had gone off, but in a moment the two men from before appeared around the corner. Alex cursed and took off like a rocket. "Run!" he shouted to Brian.

"What about your arm?" he demanded as another shot sent a shower of macaroni and cheese boxes down to the floor.

"Eh, it was cheap-looking. Now RUN, dammit!"

Alex took off towards the poultry counter, Brian on his heels. Another shot burned a thin line of blood across Brian's arm. "I knew I should've waited 'til tomorrow to get my groceries," Brian moaned.

"Shut up!" Alex hissed, making an ungraceful leap over the poultry counter. Brian scrambled over as three more shots clanged against the counter. They both headed for the back door.

The back parking lot was empty. Alex and Brian sprinted for the road.

"Hold it!" shouted the taller man. Both Alex and Brian froze, turning around slowly. The two breathless men pointed two extremely steady guns at them.

"You're lucky we've been ordered to take you alive, Krycek," the shorter one snarled, taking a step closer. "You," he said, jerking his head towards Brian. "Take out your gun slowly and toss it next to me. Don't try anything stupid."

Brian snuck a quick glance at Alex and slowly reached into his holster. He pulled the gun out slowly, and carefully tossed the gun to the man.

The resulting bullet lodged itself into the man's upper arm. He howled in pain as the other man fired his last bullet. It zipped through Alex's empty sleeve. The man cursed and ran forward, trying to reload. Alex took off towards the road while Brian darted forward and snatched his gun back.

"Hey!" Alex shouted, throwing himself in front of a passing car. The car screamed to a halt and the driver stuck his head out the window. "Hey! What do you - "

Brian hurled his badge into the front seat and shoved Alex in the back. "I'm an FBI agent and this is an emergency. DRIVE!"

"How do I - "

Brian slammed the door shut behind him and very calmly pointed the gun at his own head. "Look," he said pointedly. "All I'm asking is that you drive away before we all get killed. Is that too - much - to ask?"

After darting a quick look at Brian's badge and then the gun digging into Brian's skull, he pulled back onto the road and slowly began to pick up speed.

"Can't you go any faster?" Brian nearly screamed. Alex quickly wrested the gun out of Brian's hands. Brian glared at him but kept silent.

A few moments of silence passed, save for Brian's occasional snarls of dissatisfaction aimed at the odometer. "Um...." the driver said tentatively.

"What?" Brian shrieked.

"Sorry."

"No, go ahead," Brian said, slumping back in the seat. "Sorry. It's just - this is the first time I've been in a real live life-and-death situation before."

"I thought you were with the FBI," the driver protested.

"I work in the Sci-Crime labs! I spend my days analyzing metal and letting provocative female agents take tissues samples out of my arm, not running around fleeing men with guns chasing down one-armed men!"

"Thanks for the stereotype," Alex said tonelessly.

"Oh, leave me alone!" Brian snapped. "And would you give me back my - "

He paused, peering out the window. "Wait!" he yelped. "I know someone who lives here! She can help us out! She owes me for that tissue sample!"

He opened the door, taking the opportunity to grab his gun back. He hauled Alex out by his good arm. "Thanks!" he shouted to the driver, who took the opportunity to drive away as fast as he possibly could. Brian ignored him and began to push Alex towards the building complex. Alex glanced around, recognizing it instantly. "No. Brian, I can't - "

"FREEZE!"

Per orders, Brian and Alex froze. Clicking heels approached them from the shadows.

"Scully!" Brian breathed, relieved. "I was just looking - "

"Pendrell," she hissed. She stepped into the light of a street lamp, her gun trained on them. "I - " She paused, her eyes narrowing to slits. "You traitor."

"What?" Brian asked, confused.

"And you," she muttered, her glittering eyes resting on Alex. "I should shoot you dead, Krycek."

She noticed the gun in Brian's hand. "Drop your weapon, Pendrell."

Brian looked down at his hands and gaped. "Dana, please don't make me - "

"I'm about out of patience, Pendrell," Scully growled. "I trusted you, and I didn't expect to be repaid with a visit from your dark cohorts. Drop the gun before I show you my gratitude!"

Brian threw a desperate look at Alex. He shook his head silently.

"All right," Brian groaned. He held out his hand and tossed the gun to the ground.

The explosion rang out into the still night and the bullet struck a tree, sending a branch crashing down.

The calm silence fell over the complex as the three stood staring at each other.

"All right." Scully fumbled in her pockets and pulled out a pair of handcuffs. She tossed them to Brian, her gun never wavering. "Put it on on both of your ankles. And if I don't hear it click shut, I'm going to take that as an invitation to shoot."

Brian unsteadily reached down and fasten the handcuffs to his own ankle, then Alex's. The click sounded sharp in the still night.

"All right. Now both of you follow me. I'm going to put you two somewhere safe until I see what Skinner wants to do with you."

She took a step back. "Come on!" she shouted.

"Thanks," Alex muttered to Brian, taking a step forward with his free leg and hauling Brian along with his other, "not only are we most likely dead, but we look like fools."

"I only tried to help you!" Brian hissed. "I didn't ask for any of this to happen!"

"Shut up and walk!" Scully screamed.

They made their way to Scully's apartment in silence. She kept them ten feet away while she unlocked her door, her gun hand steady. She walked them inside a ways before opening the door to her walk-in closet.

"Get in," she ordered.

Brian and Alex paused. "In your closet?" Brian asked weakly.

"Pendrell, I - what the hell is your first name, anyway?"

"Brian. Shouldn't you already kn - "

"Brian." She rolled the sound around her tongue. "Nice name. Now shut up and get in the closet. All right?"

Brian nodded and took a step forward. Alex hadn't moved and they tumbled into the closet in a heap.

Scully barely managed to suppress a snicker before shutting the door on them and locking it firmly.

There was a brief silence. "Dare I ask what that just was?" Brian's voice was muffled.

Alex sighed. He untangled himself from Brian and a pile of fallen hangers and sat down, leaning against the wall. Brian gingerly sat down against the opposite wall, his ankle stretching painfully.

"Ouch!" Alex yelped. "Look, sit next to me and see if you can't get these off."

Brian moved next to Alex, examining the handcuffs. He pushed Alex's pant leg up. "Does she have any wire hangers in here?" he asked.

Alex looked around and handed him one.

"Thanks." Brian bent the hanger out into a straight wire and began to pry at the lock. "Black socks?" he inquired carelessly.

"White doesn't match anything I own," Alex said tonelessly.

"Same with me." Brian stretched his ankle out, the black peeking out between the cuff of his jeans and his shoe.

After a moment of pained silence, Brian gave up. "It's not working."

"Then I guess we wait," Alex said.

Another tense silence passed. "So," Brian said.

Alex smiled faintly. "Sorry about all this, Brian. I'll tell them that you were just trying to help me, but I doubt they'd believe."

"Who's they?"

"Skinner. Scully. Mulder, probably. Just a word of warning - Mulder's got a really good punching arm, but he's nowhere near as good as Skinner."

Brian closed his eyes. "So, what do we do 'til they arrive?"

The silence made him open his eyes. Alex looked at him intently, a small smile playing on his lips.

"What?" Brian asked, a little nervously.

"Nothing." The tiny tilt in his lips betrayed him. "So," Alex said, forcing his mouth back to normal. "You really like black socks better than white?"

"Yeah," Brian said. Alex shifted, his weight pressing against him a little more. "Um, why?"

"Just wondering. A little conversation to pass the time." Alex smiled again.

Brian lips tilted upward, his mind racing with silent thoughts.

"So..." he said after a moment. "Anything else you'd like to....talk....about?"

"Oh, I don't know," Alex said, shifting again. "I could talk about socks for hours...."

***

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