Subject: New! Missing Pieces by S.Proto
Date: Sun, 19 Sep 1999
Category: X-File (don't faint! <G>), M/S UST,
ANGST, MT-lite (ahh, now that's more like it!)
Rating: PG13 for language
Spoilers: through season six (but I always say that to be safe!)
Summary: Scully can't understand why she keeps misplacing
things that are
only of value to her, or are they?
Archive: Yes
Disclaimer: Chris Carter owns the ones you recognize. I'm just
borrowing
'em. I'll give 'em back. Later. I own the ones you don't. You can
borrow
'em. Later.
The site addy for Susan's Garden (courtesy of the incredible
Shirley
Smiley/Web Mistress Supreme of MTA) is:
http://susanproto.freeservers.com/
Special thanks to Vickie Moseley who keeps reminding me to
keep true to the
characters.
Thanks in advance for all of your feedback.
Please send e-mail comments to: STPteach@aol.com
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Missing Pieces
By Susan Proto (STPteach@aol.com)
Part 1/4
Dana Scully woke up to find the sun shining and the coffee
perked, just as
she'd expected it to be having set the timer the night before.
She wasn't
sure which pleased her more; the sunny weather after a few
consecutive days
of inclement weather or the freshly brewed coffee. She took a
deep breath.
Definitely the coffee.
After pouring herself a cup and stirring in a sweet and low,
Scully headed
toward the bathroom and showered in the fifteen minutes she'd set
aside for
just that task. Some days she set aside ten extra minutes, but
she didn't
need to shave her legs or under her arms, so it would be a quick
in and out
today.
She climbed out of the tub and dried herself off with a huge
bath towel and
then quickly put her terrycloth robe on so she wouldn't catch a
chill. She
took out the blow dryer and quickly fluffed it dry for a minute
or two, and
then took the extra fifteen minutes she needed to blow dry the
curl out of
her naturally wavy hair.
One of these days, she thought to herself, she would let style
be damned and
just let it dry naturally. So what if she'd look like Shirley
Temple. Or
perhaps she should just cut it all off. Now that would get
someone's
attention, wouldn't it? She just wasn't sure whose attention that
would be,
or why she'd want it.
So, for now at least, she carefully sectioned each part of her
red hair and
held it taut to blow it dry. A little styling spray, and that was
done.
Next, Scully sat down at her make-up table, turned on the
lights, and began
the next task. She had this one down to a science. It took her
exactly ten
minutes to 'put her face on,' as her mom used to call it.
Scully reminisced briefly of the times she sat and watched
first her mom and
then her older sister, Melissa, put on their make-up. It was fun
to watch,
though she remembered thinking at the time that it seemed to be
an awful lot
of bother.
Of course, Scully smiled to herself over that as she used her
concealer stick
to hide the small mole above her lip. So much for too much
bother.
Her hair was styled and make-up was done, so the next step in
preparing for
the day was to get dressed. She went over to the hook behind the
door and
pulled down the suit and blouse she had hanging there. Always one
to save
time in the morning, it was Scully's habit to choose her next
day's outfit
prior to going to bed. It was a habit her father had taught her
when she was
a little girl, and it was one she'd never forgotten.
She loved making Ahab proud of her, and one of the ways to do
that was to
always be dressed and on time for breakfast when he was on shore
leave.
Dana, as a little girl, always tried to be the first of the four
Scully
siblings down to breakfast, and she usually was. This gave her
some extra
individual time with her dad, which she treasured to that day.
Scully finished the last of the coffee in her cup and put it
in the sink.
Next, she smoothed out her suit jacket and grabbed her
briefcases, one, which
contained reports and files, while the other held her laptop. She
then
pulled out her ring of keys and opened her front door.
*THUD!*
"Jesus Christ!" she screamed in terror as she first
felt the heavy weight
fall on top of her feet, and then heard the loud thud.
Milliseconds after
feeling threatened, Scully dropped her briefcase and pulled out
her weapon.
She then managed to jump back out from under whatever it was that
had fallen
on top of her.
She naturally looked to her left and right and then her eyes
went downward to
the floor of her hallway. What she saw caused her to gasp.
"Mulder?" she finally asked, as she saw her partner
was lying in a heap at
her feet. "Mulder," she called out again as she quickly
knelt down to him to
check for a pulse. She was relieved to find he was indeed
breathing.
She was surprised, however, to hear the very next sound that
came out. A
snore. She was amazed to see her partner sawing wood with the
best of them,
as well as shocked to see him dressed in what were obviously
pajama bottoms,
no top, and bare feet. And he was sleeping like a baby.
"What the hell?" Scully couldn't help but ask out
loud. Finally, she nudged
his shoulder and called out to him, "Mulder, wake up.
Mulder, you've got to
wake up!" she said a little more urgently.
"What?" he startled awake. His entire body shuddered
and as he tried to
focus his still heavily lidded eyes, he tried desperately to
ascertain where
he was. He was definitely not home, and his body ached in places
he didn't
know he even had, so it was obvious he hadn't slept in someone's
comfortable
bed.
"Scully?" he said with surprise. "What's going
on?" His expression was as
confused and bewildered as that of any toddler on their very
first day of
nursery school. Mulder had no idea as to what the hell was going
on.
"Mulder, what the hell is going on?" asked Scully a
little too tersely. She
was disconcerted, to say the least, and she wanted to get her
partner up and
out of the hallway. She knew some of her other neighbors would be
leaving
their apartments very shortly.
"Oh, get up, Mulder," she directed, and when he
demonstrated some difficulty
in rising, she offered her hand in support. He stood up, though
he did sway
a little until he regained his sense of balance, and walked into
her
apartment.
"Okay, Mulder," she began, "why were you
sleeping outside my door? What time
did you get here, and why aren't you dressed? Mulder, you're
barefoot for
crying out loud!" she ranted.
Meanwhile, Mulder's mind was now going a mile a minute. He had
no idea how
he even got to Scully's apartment in Georgetown, much less what
time or why.
Why? When? He looked at his feet and saw they weren't too dirty,
which told
him he probably hadn't walked all the way. He couldn't find his
car keys, so
he wasn't sure if he'd driven himself over or not.
He moved silently over to Scully's window, which looked out
onto the street.
He hadn't answered any of her questions yet, because he didn't
know how to
answer them.
"Shit," he muttered out loud.
"What?"
"My car," he muttered. She stood beside him and
looked out the window, only
to see Mulder's car parked slightly askew on the street. It
wasn't quite
double-parked, but both agents were quite certain the police
would have no
problem coming up with a rationale for towing it away.
"When did you drive over here?" she asked with
annoyance. She wanted a
straight answer and was getting more and more frustrated as time
went by
without him giving her one.
"I don't know, Scully."
"You don't know," she echoed with disbelief.
"No, damn it, I don't know. I don't know what time I got
here. Scully, I
don't remember driving over here, I don't remember walking into
your
building, I don't remember coming to your door. I don't know what
the hell
I'm doing here!" he responded angrily, though she was sure
his anger wasn't
meant to be directed at her.
"How do you feel right now?" she asked as a way of
deflecting his ire for the
moment.
"Okay, I think. I mean, my back hurts, but I think that's
more from not
sleeping in a comfortable position. My head feels a little muzzy,
but I
haven't had coffee yet, and I'm trying to hold a coherent
dialogue with you.
I think I'm fine, Scully, with the exception of standing before
you in
nothing more than my pajama bottoms.
"G-d, it's a good thing I didn't go to sleep au natural
last night," he
muttered to himself.
"Damn," whispered Scully in response to words she
knew hadn't been meant for
her.
"What time is it?" he asked.
Scully looked at her watch and cried out, louder this time,
"Damn it! We're
supposed to be meeting with Skinner in exactly thirty-five
minutes, Mulder.
I don't think you're going to make it on time."
"My keys. I don't know where my damn car keys are," he ranted in frustration.
"I didn't see them on the floor in the hallway. You
probably left them in
the car, no?" When she saw him shrug his shoulders, she
became more
aggravated. "Look, Mulder, let's get out of here. We'll
check your car for
the keys, and then proceed from there."
That was Scully for you; always the pragmatic, organized one.
She took
things step by step by step. Everything was in order; everything
had its
place. There was a time for everything as well. And Scully knew
she was
supposed to be in the AD's office in less than thirty minutes
now, and she
was pissed off that there was going to be yet another reason for
Walter
Skinner to be pissed off with the X-Files division.
"Mulder, c'mon. I don't want to be late if I can help it;
maybe I can stall
for you."
He followed her out the door, all the while praying he didn't
run into any of
her neighbors. He was not only confused and worried, but he was,
at that
moment, extremely embarrassed about his appearance. He didn't
want to cause
Scully any undue embarrassment either, so it was with a great
sigh of relief
that they'd arrived at his car unseen by the neighbors.
He looked inside the car, and sure enough, the keys were still
in the
ignition. Unbelievably, no one stole the car even though it had
an open
invitation for anyone to do so.
He quickly got into the car. He looked at Scully and wasn't
sure what to
say. She asked him once again if he felt all right, to which he
assured her
he did, and that he'd appreciate it if she had a cup of coffee
ready for him
at the meeting with the AD.
"Right, Mulder. I'll be sure to be carrying a latte
grande into the
Assistant Director's office and tell him I'm saving it for
you," she said in
a peeved tone. "Just get your butt to work, Mulder, without
taking out any
red lights on the way, okay?"
"Okay. Scully, I'm __." He didn't know what to say.
Somehow, saying he was
sorry didn't quite seem right, since he wasn't sure what it was
that he was
sorry for. Keeping her from getting her to the office on time
seemed to be
the most immediate source of her agitation, so that's what he
apologized for.
"I'm sorry I'm making you late. I'll get there as quickly as
I can."
"Fine, Mulder." She began to walk away to her car,
but then quickly turned
and called out, "Mulder!" When he looked directly at
her, she said more
gently, "Please, drive carefully. I want you back at the
office in one
piece, okay?"
He smiled, nodded, and drove off back to Alexandria.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Scully was already in the office when he'd called in to let
Skinner know
there was a traffic delay, and that he was going to be a little
late. He
apologized profusely, which everyone heard as Skinner had put the
call on
speaker phone, and insisted that they begin without him, since
Scully could
bring him up to speed when he arrived.
Skinner looked at Scully, as well as the other Division heads,
to see if that
was okay with them. When they all nodded in agreement, Skinner
informed
Mulder that they were indeed going on with the meeting and that
he was to
arrive as quickly as he safely could. Skinner clicked off the
phone and
called the meeting to order.
Mulder had somehow made it to the meeting only forty-five
minutes late. Two
of the four other division heads had already made their monthly
report, which
left only Agent Hendricks, Agent Stallworth, and Mulder to
report. When he
saw he still had to sit through two other reports before he could
make his
own, he wondered if there was a way to sneak out and come back
later. There
was nothing duller than having to listen to other division heads
give their
report.
Scully had to smile to herself when she watched Mulder walk in
and take his
seat by her side. The poor guy looked pretty good for someone
who'd grabbed a
catnap on her hallway floor. She couldn't imagine what had gotten
into him;
why he ended up by her front door was a real mystery. But with
Mulder,
Scully had learned never to be surprised by anything.
Silently, she nudged a large Starbucks coffee cup over toward her partner.
If he could have kissed her right then and there, he would
have, but somehow
he didn't think the AD would approve.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
They'd all sat through the reports presented by Hendricks and
Stallworth, as
well as Mulder's own report. He, at least, had learned what the
other agents
would find helpful and interesting and cut most of the fat out of
his report.
What took each of the other two agents forty minutes to report
took Mulder
half that time, for which everyone was eternally grateful. The
agents were
dismissed shortly after Mulder wrapped up and they all dispersed
to their
respective offices.
Mulder sat down at his desk and pulled out a couple of files
he'd wanted to
update. Scully, on the other hand, stood resolutely by his desk
with her
arms crossed in front of her. When Mulder took a moment and
looked up, he
saw his partner hadn't settled down to the day's business yet.
"What?" he asked confused. "Did I forget to
thank you for the coffee? I
didn't mean to; I mean I don't remember the last time I was so
grateful to
see a Starbucks container," he said innocently.
"Mulder, this isn't about the coffee for which you're welcome, by the way."
"Then what?"
"For crying out loud, Mulder," she admonished,
"tell me you've forgotten
where I found you at seven-thirty this morning!"
At least he had the decency to blush, but in all honesty, he
had forgotten,
just as he had no memory of what had precipitated his early
morning journey
to Scully's apartment.
"Scully, I'm sorry. I honestly don't know what that was
all about. I wish I
had an answer for you, but I don't."
Scully watched him carefully as he explained his ignorance of
what had
transpired the night before. Mulder lied with the best of them;
he lied
expertly to everyone, with the exception of one, and that was
Scully.
So, when he finished his, albeit very sketchy, explanation,
she felt she had
no recourse but to believe him. She sighed, told him to try and
be more
aware with what was going on with his life, and got on with her
work for the
day.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Both agents had gone through a number of new possible cases
for them to look
into, but by the time two-thirty rolled around, both of their
stomachs
started growling and insisted they get some sustenance.
They decided to take their short lists of potential cases to
the corner deli
and discuss which ones might have enough merit as an X-file.
"Let me have a corned beef and pastrami on rye,
Samuel," ordered Mulder at
the little New York style Deli. "I want a knish too."
"Potato or Kasha?" the deli man asked.
"Potato, Samuel. Never could understand what anyone saw
in kasha. Gives me
the heebee-jeebees just looking at it."
"Oh, c'mon, Agent Mulder. It's good stuff! Ya gotta try
it again sometime;
taste buds change, ya know?"
"Yeah, sure," he agreed, but both men knew he had no
intentions of ever
trying a kasha knish in his lifetime. "What do you want,
Scully, and so help
me, if you order a corned beef on white with mayo again they will
never allow
you back in here," he said, only half teasingly.
"Okay, okay," she responded to the teasing, but knew
he was more serious than
either wanted to admit over something so minor," I'll have
the corned beef on
rye, with mustard." She glared at him and said, "See? I
learn, I learn."
Mulder caught the twinkle in her eyes and knew she wasn't
really angry with
him. He grabbed their sandwiches while she took the bowl of
pickles and sat
down at one of the booths in the back. They had their choice of
seats as it
was late; the lunch crowd was long gone, and there was still a
couple of
hours till the dinner crowd showed up.
Samuel brought over their drinks; he considered them part of
his regulars now
and so he knew Mulder liked sweetened iced tea and the lovely red
headed
Agent Scully enjoyed root beer. The agents thanked their server
and
proceeded to both chow down and compare their case lists.
"Okay," mumbled Mulder in between bites of his
sandwich, "I've got something
here that sounds promising." He then went on to talk about
the possible
merits of a case in Mississippi where suspicious lights were seen
on several
of riverbanks in the state.
"Mulder, is there anything unique about these
lights?" asked Scully
impatiently. She was tired of the fact that every time a case of
unknown
lights came to his attention, he assumed they were alien in
nature and he was
willing to go traipsing off to investigate them.
"Well, no, not exactly__," he began.
"__Next," interrupted Scully. When he didn't argue,
she knew even he wasn't
sure of the case's merit. "Okay, how about this one, and
it's right here in
town. Apparently there's been some instances reported of women
claiming some
of their personal effects have come up missing, but they swear
there's no
sign of anyone in their home that doesn't belong there."
"What's missing?" Mulder asked, as he took a bite of the potato knish.
"Oh, things like hairbrushes and headbands, or favorite
pieces of jewelry.
Nothing necessarily expensive; more priceless in terms of
sentimental value,
you know?" Scully explained.
"So, how do you see this as an X-File? Sounds more like
petty theft to me,"
Mulder observed.
"But the women have no clue as to how the person got in.
The police were
called in and there were no signs of breaking and entering, doors
and windows
remained locked from the inside__," she noted.
"I don't know; it sounds more like someone's acting out
of petty jealousy or
something. Probably a family member exacting revenge over
something or
other," he responded.
"But there were six victims noted, Mulder, and they claim
they're strangers
to one another."
Mulder shrugged his shoulder and continued to eat. Scully took
that as a
'no' and crossed it off her list.
They'd gone over three more cases each until they finally
decided to go with
one Scully had unearthed from the local paper. There was a small
article in
the local paper about a new antihistamine coming on the market
that was being
produced by the Roush Corporation.
Neither Mulder nor Scully were sure if there was any
connection to the Roush
Drug company the consortium had been dealing with, but they
figured since it
was local it was economically worth looking into. They'd been
consciously
trying to watch their expenditures and had even been commended by
the AD for
their prudence of late.
Both agents figured it might help them in the long run to
watch themselves
now. They never knew when they'd need the AD to be more than just
understanding when it came to Mulder's propensity for losing a
cell phone or
two.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
They'd finished up their lunches, though Scully had half of
her sandwich
wrapped to take home for a midnight snack. They'd gone back to
the office
and set to work on gathering as much information as they could
about the
local Roush Corporation.
By the time they'd finished their telephone inquiries and
surfed the net to
find unusual links, the clock showed the afternoon as well as
early evening
had passed.
"Mulder, it's going on seven o'clock and I'm going home."
"Um, did you still want your sandwich, Scully?" asked Mulder hopefully.
"Yes, Mulder, as a matter of fact I did," she said
firmly, but with a smile.
"Good night. I'll see you tomorrow. Umm, let's make that
I'll see you
tomorrow in the office, okay, Mulder?"
"Yeah, yeah," he said sheepishly, "in the office."
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Scully arrived home and placed her laptop and brief case by
her desk. She
then unwrapped the half a sandwich from the tin foil and
rewrapped it in some
paper toweling. She popped it in the microwave for about three
minutes on
low, and while it heated up, Scully went into her bedroom to
change into more
comfortable clothes.
She hung up her suit jacket and slacks and tossed her silk
shell into the
hamper. She realized she needed to make a trip to the dry
cleaners soon, as
all of her favorite tops were just about used. She pulled up her
favorite
jeans and searched for the NY Knicks tee shirt she'd secretly
requisitioned
from Mulder one night.
She knew he'd have her head if he ever found out she'd taken
the shirt, but
she really, really loved the softness of it. The fact that it had
belonged
to him was not withstanding; she just loved having a part of him
with her.
But now she couldn't find it and she was becoming ticked off.
She was sure
it wasn't in the hamper, as she'd just done a regular wash. She
looked
around for several more minutes but finally gave up. She figured
he probably
discovered it one night and took it back as surreptitiously as
she'd first
taken it. She pulled out another tee, one not nearly as
comfortable, and
pulled it down over her head.
She then went into the kitchen, grabbed a root beer, and put
her sandwich on
a paper plate. She sat down on her couch to relax for the rest of
the
evening until she began her same routine all over again the next
morning.
And it was.
It was exactly the same.
From waking up to the sunshine, to smelling the coffee, to
hopping in the
shower, to using the hair dryer, to putting on the makeup, to
getting
dressed, and to finding Mulder sound asleep outside her door in
his yellow
pajama bottoms once again.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
End of part 1/4
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Missing Pieces
By Susan Proto (STPteach@aol.com)
Disclaimers in Part1
Part 2/4
Scully chose to simply ignore the situation. She decided if
she didn't give
the incident any undue attention, it might help to resolve the
problem before
it became more complicated to deal with.
Though Mulder tried to ingratiate himself back into Scully's
heart, he knew
she was, if not totally pissed about the situation, certainly
disturbed by
it. Quite frankly, so was he. Having nightmares was one thing to
deal with;
even sleepwalking, though not a desirable trait, it was certainly
not one
unique to him.
Driving in one's sleep was another story entirely. And the
fact that he
hadn't killed anyone (or himself for that matter) was a miracle
in and of
itself. Neither was sure how long his luck was going to hold.
Mulder knew Scully didn't want to talk about it, and he wasn't
about to press
her. He wouldn't have known what to ask her or what to say in
reply, so
Mulder almost breathed a sigh of relief when he realized she
wasn't going to
delve into the matter.
However, there was this very pregnant pause that seemed to
engulf the office,
since neither wanted to broach the subject. Mulder picked up the
Roush file
and began skimming it yet again. It was a long, silent morning
for both
partners.
The phone rang around one o'clock in the afternoon, and Scully
picked up
while Mulder pretended to still be engrossed in the file.
"Scully," she
answered. She heard the front security guard, Stanley, inform her
that
Charlie, Samuel's son and chief delivery boy from the D.C. deli,
was waiting
with a lunch order for them and would she confirm it.
"Mulder, did you order lunch?"
"Order? No, though I was thinking of ordering some
sandwiches from the deli
a little while ago. Why?" he asked curiously.
"Because Stanley, at the front desk, says Charlie, from
the deli, is waiting
with an order for us."
"Whoa, this is a little spooky even for me," he replied.
She wasn't sure if he was kidding her or not, though from his
nonplussed
expression, she had to believe he was playing it straight with
her.
"Maybe you did order it, but didn't realize it?" she asked.
"Scully, I've been sitting here with you the entire
morning, haven't I?" he
asked incredulously. She had no choice but to nod in agreement.
"Well,
hell," he continued, "I guess we shouldn't waste good
food. Tell Stan to
send him up."
Charlie arrived a few minutes later. He nodded and smiled at
both agents
when they greeted him. "How's your dad, Charlie?"
Scully asked.
"Same old, same old," he replied, quietly but with a
huge smile. In fact, he
seemed to blush slightly as well. To the young man in his early
twenties,
everything his father did was the 'same old, same old.'
"Well, that's good," answered Mulder, oblivious to
everyone except the food.
He pulled out a pastrami sandwich and slathered some mustard on
it. "But,
Charlie, I don't understand. Neither Agent Scully nor I ordered
these
sandwiches. How come you're here?" he asked as he pulled out
his wallet to
retrieve some money to pay for the food.
"I don't know, Agent Mulder. Dad said to deliver the
order, so I deliver the
order, ya know?" he explained. "Oh, Agent Scully,"
he began, his voice
softened, "Dad told me to tell you he added a little tub of
mayo just for
you."
"Damn straight, it's just for her. Nobody in their right
mind puts mayo on
corned beef," Mulder groused.
"Tell your father thank you from me, okay?"
Charlie nodded in acknowledgment and said, "Sure Agent
Scully. I'll be happy
to. You're one of his favorite customers, ya know?"
"Yeah, and I must be chopped liver," Mulder muttered
in between bites of the
delicious corned beef on rye.
Scully didn't hear her partner's remark due to her busily
crinkling aluminum
foil to unwrap her sandwich. Charlie heard him, but he apparently
chose to
politely ignore the agent. Mulder finally took out a twenty and a
few
singles and told the younger man to 'kill the change.' Charlie
thanked
Mulder, and then smiled engagingly at Scully and wished each of
them a good
day. He then left.
"I think someone has a crush on you, Agent Scully,"
teased an almost sated
Mulder. He was now taking a long swig on his iced tea and watched
Scully's
face as she tried to both finish chewing a huge bite of her
mayonnaise-laiden
corned beef sandwich and control her shocked expression.
She couldn't control the blushing though. "Oh, Mulder,
for crying out loud,
the last time someone had a crush on me, it nearly cost me my
heart.
Literally. So, let's not even go there, okay?" she replied
with a hint of
annoyance, though both knew she wasn't really angry. Just
uncomfortable.
Wisely, Mulder let it lay, and they both continued to eat.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
"Damn it!," muttered Scully a little more loudly than she'd intended.
"What?" asked Mulder.
"Oh, it's nothing," she replied half-heartedly, but
then added with
annoyance, "damn it, where the hell is it?"
"Where the hell is what?" asked Mulder with a bit of exasperation himself.
"Oh, I'm sorry, Mulder. It's stupid, that's all."
"Scully, what? What's stupid?"
"I chipped a nail," she replied.
"A nail? Scully, I've seen you break a nail before and
not get all bent out
of shape like this," he noted.
"It's not the nail; I can't find my nail file. It was a
really expensive
one, too. Mom bought it for me a few weeks back and I really
liked it, and
now that I've chipped a nail and need it, I can't find it, damn
it! This is
so frustrating!"
"Maybe you left it at home?" he asked hoping to be helpful.
"No! No, I didn't leave it at home. I don't put it back
anywhere else
except in my purse. I know I didn't leave it at home, Mulder.
"Well, I have a file on my Swiss Army Knife, if you want
to use it," he
offered earnestly.
"Thanks, Mulder," she answered gratefully, and
decided she couldn't possibly
remain annoyed with him any longer.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
When Scully returned home that evening she'd completely
forgotten about the
missing nail file; that is until she discovered her tortoise
shell handled
hair brush was missing. She was every bit as upset over that
missing item as
she was over the missing nail file and tee shirt.
She'd had the hairbrush, as well as its matching wide-tooth
comb, practically
forever. Her older sister, Melissa, had given it to her for
Christmas when
Dana had turned eighteen. Melissa had received one for her
birthday from
their grandmother some years before that, and Dana had always
admired it.
Melissa knew her sister would love her own and she was right.
Dana couldn't understand where the brush had disappeared. The
comb remained
sitting on her dressing table, but the brush was no where to be
found.
"Damn it," she cried out loud. "First the
shirt, then the file, and now my
brush? Shit! I can't possibly be that forgetful, can I?" she
asked aloud to
herself in the semi-darkness of her bedroom. She finally couldn't
stand it
any longer and thought of something that might help to make more
sense of
everything.
Scully walked into the living and picked up her briefcase.
Inside were the
case files Scully had tried to persuade Mulder to investigate.
She pulled
out the file that involved the women and their missing treasured
items. She
opened it up and read the file more carefully.
She took note of the details listed in the file more carefully
and with some
surprise she realized she'd glossed over some very key
information. The name
Amy Shea rang a bell, though she couldn't for the life of her
remember from
where; at least not until Scully noted Amy Shea's job title.
Secretary to the Assistant Director of the FBI.
Scully felt foolish for not taking note of this information
earlier. Ever
since Kim had left suddenly, the AD had a revolving door of temps
working his
front office desk. Amy Shea only became his permanent secretary
the last
month. Since Scully and Mulder had been out in the field a goodly
portion of
that month, Amy's arrival kind of sneaked up on them.
Scully then looked over the names of the other victims more
carefully and
realized she'd recognized another name. Bonnie Jenkins was an
agent who had,
at one time, worked with Agent Pendrell. Scully remembered she'd
assisted
him on a couple of occasions on certain rush requests she and
Mulder had made.
The other four names didn't ring a bell with her, but since
Scully knew two
of the victims worked at the Bureau, she couldn't help but wonder
if any of
the others did too. She decided to take a chance and see if
Mulder was still
at the office; he'd have easier access to the FBI database than
she would.
"Mulder," he responded.
"I can't believe you're still there," she said.
"Obviously you had to have some belief in it, or you
wouldn't be calling me
here, now would you?" he asked rhetorically.
"Touche, Mulder."
"What's up partner?" he asked now with concern. "Are you okay, Scully?"
"I'm fine," she responded automatically.
"Scully," he hissed.
"No, Mulder, really, I am fine; though I'm a little
perturbed. I'm missing
another item, and well, it gave me the impetus to take another
look at that
file we'd talked about earlier."
"And, you discovered something new," he stated rather than asked.
"They don't call you Spooky for nothing, Mulder," she retorted.
"Hey, that's why they put the 'I' in FBI," he teased
kindly. "What did you
find?"
"Do the names Amy Shea and Bonnie Jenkins ring a bell?" she asked.
"Umm, not really," he replied hesitantly. He wasn't
sure if this was some
kind of test or not.
"Amy is Skinner's new secretary and Bonnie is an agent
who worked with Agent
Pendrell some time back," she explained.
"Okay,'' he acknowledged, "I recognize Amy now, but
I don't know if I'd ever
had chance to run into Bonnie. Pendrell was kind of your insider;
like I
have Danny."
"Right, well, I was wondering if you recognized any of
the other victims'
names. I figured if we had connections with two of the six, I
thought we
might have some knowledge of the other four," she
elaborated.
"Okay, makes sense. Shoot."
"Umm, there's a Mary Fitzpatrick, Candace Phillips,
Sandra O'Neil, and Peggy
Ortega," she listed.
"Peggy Ortega, I think used to work in VCU, and
transferred over to DC a
couple of years after me. I remember her because she'd gotten
married the
year I left. She was Peggy O'Connor before she got married to
Jaime. Really
nice guy, as I recall, but the two of them made such an odd
couple. Man,
talk about opposites attracting, Scully."
"How so?"
"Jaime was from Central America. Tall guy, very dark skin
and jet black
hair. Very good looking. Peggy, on the other hand is this tiny,
petite
little red head with very fair skin and lots of freckles. They
were truly a
"Mutt and Jeff" couple," he said with a chuckle.
"But they were so much in
love and really, really happy."
Scully imagined the small smile on her face was a direct
reflection of
Mulder's at that moment. "How about the others?"
"I don't know, Scully. They don't let me come out and
play with others as
often as you. I'm not sure; I mean, wait a minute. Mary
Fitzpatrick. Does
it say what her job is?" he asked curiously.
"Um, housekeeping?" she responded.
"Scully, Mary works the nightshift. She cleans the office," he said.
"Yeah, well, you have more opportunities to meet her than
I do," Scully said,
and then added, "I'm sure if you hold out a little longer
you might run into
her tonight too."
Mulder smirked a bit on the other end, but he knew there was
definitely a
ring of truth to what she said. "Look, I don't know the
other names, but
I'll type 'em into the database and see what comes up,
okay?"
She repeated their names and Mulder typed in 'Phillips,
Candace' and 'O'Neil,
Sandra.' Both came up positive for working for the FBI in one
capacity or
another. "Look, I'm going to print out information on the
victims from the
database and come over. Maybe we can find a connection between
them all,"
Mulder suggested.
Scully agreed and their phones clicked off. Mulder brought up
the personnel
files of all six victims along with their photo I.D.s. He drew in
a quick
breath when he printed and set the dossiers side by side. There
was one
connection that became all too obvious.
He gathered his data and rushed out the door to go to Scully.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
End of 2/4
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Missing Pieces
By Susan Proto (STPteach@aol.com)
Disclaimers in Part 1
Part 3/4
He knocked on the door, and though Scully was expecting him,
habit forced her
to look through the peephole to see Mulder's face. She was
somewhat
surprised by the expression he wore; he seemed more upset than
the situation
warranted, and she wondered why.
"Mulder?" she asked as she opened the door, "What's wrong?"
"I don't like what I found, Scully. Come here and take a
look," he said as
he walked over to her couch and sat down. Next he spread the
printouts on
her coffee table, so she was best able to see the identification
photos that
were included in each of the bureau's staff data file.
Scully looked briefly at each of the photos, which lay before
her. Then she
looked at Mulder, but eventually returned her gaze to the photos.
"Damn," he cursed softly, "this one could be
mistaken for your twin sister."
He pointed to Candace Phillips whose hairstyle was even similar
to Scully's.
"Scully, they all look just like you," he remarked with
some sense of awe.
To which, Scully actually chuckled.
"What's so funny? This is serious! They're doing it to us
again, damn it!"
he responded petulantly.
"Mulder, has it ever occurred to you that I might be the
one to look like one
of these women?" she asked. When he looked back at her with
an air of
puzzlement, she clarified by saying, "Isn't it possible that
this isn't a
government conspiracy? I mean, maybe it's about one of these
women, and not
me. Maybe it's because I look like one of them, that I've been
targeted."
"So you _do_ think you've been singled out," he confirmed.
"Well, I guess the pictures and the fact that they all
work for the bureau in
some capacity clinches it. I mean, _look_ at them, Mulder. Even I
can see
the amazing resemblance."
"So, what were the other items?" he asked.
"What?" she reacted to the change of subject.
"You mentioned before another item was missing. I know
about the nail file,
but you didn't mention what had gone missing tonight."
"My hair brush," she replied a little dejectedly.
"The fancy one?" When she nodded, he sympathized and
said, "I'm sorry,
Scully. I know you really liked that brush." She nodded
again, and then he
asked, "Was that it? Just the file and hairbrush?"
She felt her face begin to flush a bit involuntarily and
didn't know if she
should admit to the missing tee shirt. But her Irish coloring
didn't give
her much to hide behind, and he chided her to 'fess up on what
she was
concealing.
"It was just a tee-shirt, that's all," she said very softly.
"Tee-shirt? What's so special about a tee shirt?" he asked puzzled.
She almost laughed out loud at that question, because Scully
knew perfectly
well that Mulder had been extremely attached to that particular
Knicks tee
shirt before she'd confiscated it. "Well, if you must know
it was a New York
Knicks tee shirt," she admitted a bit warily.
"Knicks? Scully, I didn't know you treasured the Knicks,
too," he reacted
with some surprise.
Scully looked at him and didn't know whether to laugh or cry
over his
naivete. "Oh, Mulder, you are priceless, you know that? It's
not the Knicks
that I treasure!"
He looked totally confused over that last comment until it
finally dawned
upon him what she was actually telling him.
"Scully! _You_ had my Knicks tee shirt?!"
Well, something had dawned on him, at any rate.
"Yes, Mulder," she answered honestly, "I had
it, but now it's missing and I
am really, really pissed off about it." When he looked at
her with sudden
warmth and affection, Scully responded in typical defensive mode,
Scully-fashion, "It was damned comfortable."
"Oh, of course, it's because the shirt was comfortable.
C'mon Scully, admit
it. You just needed something to wash the windows with," he
chided wryly.
She knew she couldn't leave it like that; Scully knew she had
to tell him the
truth, but that would be going against the Scully rules and order
of life.
Everything had its own place, including Mulder, who held a
special place in
her heart. Problem was, she was the only one who knew for sure
where that
place was.
She supposed it was time for that to change.
"Mulder, it smelled of you. Even after I washed it, it
still had your scent
on it. That's why it's so comfortable to me. While I wear it, it
feels like
you're with me, even when you're not," she admitted quietly.
He stared at her. Mulder was no idiot; he knew that was as
close to a
declaration of love he was going to get, at least for the time
being, and
that was fine by him.
For now.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
The two partners spent the next thirty minutes or so perusing
the files of
the other employees who had filed reports with the local PD over
their
missing items. It did seem possible to Mulder that Scully was the
actual
target, yet Scully's scenario wasn't unreasonable either. Then a
thought
came to him.
"Scully, what if we're both wrong?" When she nodded
to him as a
communication for him to continue, he did. "What if none of
you were the
specific target, but just your look was. What if someone was
looking to
replace someone that had looked just like you with one of
you?"
"But why just take our things? Why not take us__?"
"__Bite your tongue, Scully!"
She smiled at his reaction to her suggestion that the UNSUB
should prefer the
real thing to the objects that represent her. But maybe that was
it?
"He's taking the objects to try replace her. He's trying
to recreate the
essence of her; not necessarily the actual person," she
murmured.
"Hey, Scully, when did you start profiling?" he
asked with a smile. "I have
to concur with your hypothesis. It's possible, to take it a step
further,
our UNSUB has already conjured up his ideal woman in his mind,
and he's
bringing her presents."
"To make her happy?" she suggested.
"Or to _keep_ her happy," he said with a little more solemnity.
"I don't understand, Mulder. The articles he's stolen are
mere trinkets that
have little monetary value. They're priceless only in the
sentimentality the
owners feel toward them. Why would those objects keep anyone
happy?" she
asked seriously.
He thought over her questions carefully, and finally stated,
"To be honest,
I'm not sure. The only thing I could attribute to it is perhaps
the UNSUB
knows how much importance you and the others ascribe to the
objects and that
importance is what the UNSUB's woman needs to survive. She
thrives on others
strong emotions; she lives through the vicarious feelings of
others whom look
just like her."
"You know you're making me a little nervous here, Mulder."
"Well, then, I suppose I should just stay here and
protect you my fair
maiden," he jested half seriously.
Scully's immediately blurted out, "No." She was
damned if she was going to
admit just how anxious she really felt.
"I don't think so, Mulder," she responded slowly,
"and in fact, I think it's
time for all good agents to go home to bed."
"Oh, c'mon, Scully," he urged, "the way things
have been going, I'm only
going to end up here anyway. Besides, I'm sure we can both think
of a whole
lot more comfortable place for me to sleep instead of outside
your apartment
door," he leered slightly.
Perhaps it was the fact she didn't want to admit her
discomfort to Mulder,
and the energy she expended in keeping her nervousness hidden was
draining.
Or perhaps it was Scully's usual defensive reaction to one of
Mulder's
innuendoes, but whatever the reason, her reaction was swift and
cutting.
"Is this what all of this was all about?" she asked
incredulously, all the
while giving him a look that could sear a steak.
Mulder's face held an equally disbelieving expression.
"Scully, what the
hell are you talking about?"
"I'm getting tired of it, Mulder. When I leave for work
tomorrow, I do not
want to find you outside my door. Do you understand me? I feel
like I have
no privacy anymore, damn it! My things are being taken from right
under my
nose, and you've apparently set up permanent camp outside my
door. That's
it, Mulder, I want my life back. It's time for you to go home and
stay
home," she declared sternly.
"Shit, it's not like I plan on coming here," he
grumbled, "I mean, I'm
sleepwalking here for crying out loud! What do you want me to
do?"
"I don't care. Don't sleep. Stay up all night, I don't
give a damn. Just
make sure you don't show up here between now and tomorrow when I
leave to go
to work. Now, goodnight, Mulder," she pronounced.
"Scully __."
"__Don't say another word, Mulder. Go home. I'm tired and
I want to relax
without another thought about what's been going on. Please,
leave."
Mulder stared at her for several seconds, not moving, and
wondered what the
hell had just happened. One moment they were working in a
collegial give and
take, not to mention the fact she'd finally admitted she had
feelings for
him, and then the next moment Scully was essentially accusing him
of sexual
harassment. He was about to ask her, when he watched her open the
front door
and practically wave him out.
"Fine," he muttered. He quickly picked up the
material spread out on her
coffee table, gathered and tamped it down, and placed it back in
his
briefcase. He was so annoyed at that moment he simply walked out
the door
without saying a word. If she didn't want his help on this, then
so be it,
he thought.
She just wouldn't know about it, he thought to himself. He
crossed the
street over to his car, and sat down in the driver's seat. Only
he didn't
drive away. He turned on the portable radio he kept in the car
for stakeout
purposes and kept the volume down low. Next, Mulder hunkered down
for a
night of quiet surveillance.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
It was going on three o'clock in the morning. The first few
hours home were
a piece of cake for Mulder, as he was usually a night owl. But as
the hour
hand continued to creep forward later into the night, even Mulder
had to
succumb to the fatigue he was feeling.
His eyelids felt heavier and heavier. He thought he'd be able
to simply
close his eyes for a moment or two; forty winks would be just
enough to
refresh him and allow him to continue his watchful eye on
Scully's apartment.
Of course, within minutes of closing his eyes, Mulder fell into a
deep, deep
sleep.
It was then the visions played out in his mind; the drama that
induced him to
risk his own life (and those of others, as well.)
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
She wore a blue flowing dress, and her red hair blew about her
face in the
wind. Her mouth formed words, but no sound came out. Mulder found
himself
watching the woman's mouth intensely, and he tried to read the
lips that
spoke with such intensity.
The repetitions helped, and finally Mulder was able to hear
the words that
were formed silently only moments before.
"I need more time," she said in a soft, lightly
accented voice. "I need more
time with you."
Mulder knew she wasn't speaking to him; he could see her line
of vision was
directed over towards another figure. The other person was
obviously male,
and he thought there was something familiar about him, but he
wasn't sure.
Finally he heard the other voice speak, though the sound of
his voice was
distorted making it difficult to decipher just who it truly was.
"I know,
I'm trying. I'm trying to do what you asked, but it's so hard.
I'm afraid
they'll catch me, and then I'll lose you again, forever. What can
I do? Oh,
God, what can I do?" he wept.
"Shhh, shhhh," she replied in a loving manner. She
practically floated over
to where the male figure stood, hunched over. Mulder watched her
reach out
and practically enveloped the other person into her arms.
"It's time, my
sweet man, it's time," she whispered.
"Time?" he looked up.
Mulder couldn't tell whether the other man did not understand
exactly what
the woman was declaring, or was not willing to believe what the
woman was
saying.
"Yes, it is time, or I will be lost forever. I'd thought
everything you'd
brought me would be enough, but alas, it is not. I need to become
one with
another like me. I need to become the other. I need you to bring
me one
last gift, to ensure my survival," she explained solemnly.
"Oh God, what you are asking of me, I do not know if I
can do," the man said
in a tremulous voice.
"You must, or I will be lost forever, and it was not my
time. It was too
soon," she said.
"I will try, because I love you. I love you, and I miss
you so much," he
said.
"Go. Go to her now, and prepare her for me," she commanded.
And as the figures began to fade before his eyes, Mulder saw
himself begin to
move about as well. He clearly saw himself moving; it was as if
he were
watching a movie of himself.
He calmly got out of the car and stood to check for his
weapon. When he
confirmed he indeed had it holstered, he closed the car door and
headed
toward Scully's apartment house.
And Mulder did all this while he remained sound asleep.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
End of Part 3/4
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Missing Pieces
By Susan Proto (STPteach@aol.com)
Disclaimers in Part 1
Part 4/4
Scully became restless and stirred in her sleep. She felt
herself slowly
coming to wakefulness, when she sniffed something unusual in the
air. Just
before she became totally awake, the mysterious odor became
overpowering, and
Scully lost consciousness.
The stealth figure was dressed in black slacks and turtleneck
along with
gloves and full hooded mask. He waited with mute patience outside
her window
until the drug-induced fog did its job thoroughly. After several
minutes
passed he entered her apartment building using the passkey he'd
created from
an earlier mold.
Without drawing attention to himself, he quietly unlocked her
front door and
let himself in. He entered the apartment cautiously, and
carefully left the
front door open ever so slightly so as to make his departure that
much
easier. He'd never had to worry about having his hands so full
that he
couldn't get the door; this time was the exception.
He walked quickly toward Scully's bedroom and carefully
cracked the door open
to take a peek inside. He was fairly certain the sweet smelling
anesthesia
did its job, but he was always one to err on the side of caution.
He saw her
laying totally still, with the exception of the rhythmical
movement of her
chest which ensured his catch was breathing deeply and steadily
in her
unconscious state.
This was a relief to him, as it was never his intent to harm
her; in fact, he
could never allow any harm to come to her, or he'd have to search
for yet
another surrogate to be the necessary host.
He lifted Scully up with great care, almost to the point of
reverence. He
wanted to return back to his home as quickly as possible with her
without her
regaining consciousness. He wasn't sure how much time he had to
accomplish
that feat, as he'd always left the victims behind having gotten
the object
his love desired.
He was grateful she was a petite woman, for he was not a very
large man. He
hoisted her in the fireman's grasp, and started toward the
apartment door.
It was there that he met his first obstacle.
Mulder stood in front of the door, silently, and immovable.
Though it was
slightly ajar, he never made a move to go in. It was as if there
were some
type of barrier erected that prevented him from entering.
The man looked at Mulder with amazement that the agent made no
sound and
simply stood there, blocking his way. The man couldn't understand
why Mulder
made no attempt to remove Scully from his arms. He couldn't grasp
why Mulder
merely stood there; why didn't he attempt to stop him and take
the small
woman from him.
Not knowing exactly what to do, the man attempted to move
around Mulder.
Mulder simply stepped to that side. When the man attempted to go
on the
other side of him, Mulder quietly sidestepped to block him again.
Finally, exasperation took over and a need to see this entire
ordeal to its
conclusion, the man defied logic and attempted to barrel right
through
Mulder. It was at this point that Mulder's affect began to
change. He
suddenly appeared confused and disjointed.
He looked all around him and realized he was no longer in his
apartment on
his couch dreaming the strangest dream he'd ever dreamt. He was
no longer
watching a film, as it had appeared to him earlier. He was
experiencing in
real time, in real life, with all of the real characters, the
action he'd
just been dreaming about.
Only this wasn't an unknown woman; this was Scully. And this
wasn't an
unknown man; this was __.
"Samuel?" Mulder gasped, as he was now more awake
than asleep. "My God,
Samuel, what the hell are you doing?"
The little man looked totally mortified. He retained his firm
hold on
Scully, but he was aghast that Mulder recognized him. How could
he have
recognized him with the mask on?
"Get out of my way, Agent Mulder," he demanded.
"Put her down, Samuel. You haven't done anyone any real
harm yet, so please,
before someone gets hurt, put her down," Mulder pleaded.
Somehow Mulder knew Samuel's real motivation was not meant to
hurt Scully,
but something more personal, more deeply affecting the older man.
Mulder
couldn't put his finger on what it was now that he was awake.
But Mulder also knew he couldn't allow Samuel to leave the
premises with
Scully still in his arms. Mulder certainly didn't want to hurt
the smaller
man, but he had to make it clear that he was not going to allow
Samuel to
leave with his partner.
"Samuel, put her down, so we can end this amicably," Mulder warned.
"Or what, Agent Mulder? You'll arrest me? I'm already in
a prison, young
man, and you couldn't possible imprison me any more than I
already am," he
said with regret.
"Samuel, please. You can't take her from here. You can't
take her from __,"
Mulder stopped as he realized what he was about to say, and
instinctively
knew it was the wrong thing to say to that man. The only problem
was,
Samuel's instincts were well honed as well, and he knew exactly
what Mulder
stopped short of saying.
And Mulder was right. It was more than what the older man
could deal with
and at that very moment, Samuel's persona changed before Mulder's
eyes.
"GET OUT OF MY WAY. NOW!" he roared and with
strength neither man realized
Samuel possessed, he pushed Mulder with his one free hand so hard
he knocked
him against the wall, snapping his head back and forth like a toy
doll.
Mulder was stunned momentarily and had to take a moment to shake
off the pain
of hitting the wall as hard as he did.
Mulder tried to rear back and strike out at Samuel, but the
older man had
suddenly developed superhuman strength and stamina. He threw a
punch to
Mulder's midsection, which caused the younger man to retch in
response.
Next, while Mulder was obviously still incapacitated, Samuel
threw a final
blow to Mulder's jaw, stunning him into submission.
Samuel harshly pushed his obstacle down onto the hallway floor
and stepped
over him. What was truly amazing about the entire episode was
Samuel had
accomplished that feat while he held Scully over his shoulder the
whole time.
Mulder felt ready to pass out until he remembered his partner
was still in
the arms of her captor. When he looked up, he saw that Samuel was
within
only a few steps of the small stairwell that led to the main
entrance of
Scully's building.
Mulder quickly reached into his holster for his gun. He pulled
it out and
held it shakily in front of him and shouted, "Samuel, FBI.
Stop where you
are and put down my partner!"
"I can't, Agent Mulder. I'm so sorry, but I can't lose her again," he moaned.
Lose her again. How many times had Mulder thought those very
same words, and
now it was happening to him all over again, in front of his very
eyes. He
struggled to stand up and staggered out the front door. He could
only
stumble down the steps to the sidewalk, and though his vision was
blurred
from the blow to his head, Mulder still managed to hold the gun
out in front
of him and maintain it on his target.
Samuel knew it was going to end here, but he knew he had to
keep trying or he
wouldn't have accomplished anything. He had to see it to the end,
and if it
meant his life was going to be taken then so be it. Perhaps then
he could be
back with his Evie, his beautiful Evie, who had been taken away
from him so
long ago on the day of his only son's birth.
"Stop, Samuel. Please, stop!" Mulder cried out. He
didn't want to fire, but
he knew he would have to in order to save his partner.
He couldn't lose her again.
"I'm sorry," the older man whispered as he made his
way to the driver's side
of the car.
BANG!
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
It had only taken the one shot.
Samuel's body ceased to be when Mulder had taken the shot. By
this time,
Scully had regained consciousness and moved immediately to check
on the older
man. When she checked his vitals, she'd tried to institute CPR,
but she soon
realized it was all for naught.
The old man died of cardiac arrest.
Mulder had shot out the tire.
Mulder's head continued to throb, and he felt himself sway
from dizziness.
Scully helped him take a seat on the front stoop of her building
and looked
up to one of the many neighbors whose heads were now poking out
in curiosity.
"Please, call 911, and tell them we need an EMT unit here
as soon as
possible." When she took another look at her partner, she
realized he would
need to be checked out, so she put in an added request for a
second ambulance.
"Scully, are you okay?" Mulder asked through chattering teeth.
"You're going into shock, Mulder," she said in
non-response, "Let me check
your pulse."
"Damn it, Scully," he shouted as he angrily pulled
his arm away from her
probing fingers, "just answer me for once. Are you
okay?"
"Mulder, I'm not the one showing signs of shock. I'm not
the one who is
squinting because the street light is reflecting in my eyes. I'm
not the one
who is having trouble taking a breath, so I guess I'm the one who
should be
worried and pissed off that you're refusing to allow me to check
you out,"
she replied with equal ire.
"Aw, Scully, please," he responded breathily, and
his entire body began to
shake as he looked out toward Samuel's body, as he lay dead in
the street.
Scully realized Mulder was taking the entire blame for
Samuel's death and
tried to dispel that misnomer immediately.
"Mulder, he died of a heart attack. It was not your
fault." When he didn't
respond, she decided to take a different tack. "It was
Samuel who took our
property?" she asked.
He nodded mutely as he continued to look out toward the fallen body.
"How did he get in? There was never any evidence of a break-in," she asked.
"Keys. He's made enough deliveries to have access to
agents who live in the
area, so maybe he made molds of the locks. He drugged you before
he came in,
so he had free reign of the apartment. I think he sprayed
something through
your window," he replied tonelessly.
"Mulder, how? Why?"
"He loved her," he whispered. "He didn't want
to lose her again, and you
were his chance to regain his lost love."
"But you weren't supposed to come over here tonight, so
why __? "How did you
know?" she asked gently.
"I saw them," he replied. When she nodded he knew
she meant for him to
continue, but he wasn't sure if he would be able to explain it to
her. He
wasn't sure if he could explain it to himself.
"I saw it in my dreams, Scully. I saw the trinkets and
treasures weren't
enough and she demanded he prepare you for her so she could
become one with
you. She felt she'd been take from Samuel too soon, and she told
him he
needed to bring you to her so she could come back to him.
"He was going to take you from me, Scully, so he could
have his love with him
again," he said through quiet tears. He hung his head down
with his chin on
his chest. "I didn't want to hurt him, Scully. He was
hurting so much
already. I know how much he was hurting
"
"Oh, Mulder," she whispered and sat down next to
him. She wrapped her arms
around him in a small attempt to comfort him, but she knew he'd
most likely
have to work this one out for himself. All she could hope to do
was remind
him over and over that she was there for him. She wanted so badly
to be able
to soothe the hurt.
The EMTs and the ambulances showed up within ten minutes. One
team checked
over Samuel, placed him in a body bag, and then readied him for
transport to
the morgue. The second team gave Mulder a quick once-over, and
told him they
were going to get him hooked up to an IV and readied for
transport.
Of course, Mulder's first impulse was to refuse.
And it was Scully's immediate response to try and convince him otherwise.
"Mulder, you're torso is badly bruised, and you're still
light sensitive.
Please, go to the hospital for some tests. If all they feel is
warranted is
an overnight observation, I'll make sure we sign you out with an
Against
Medical Advice form."
When he didn't look totally convinced she added, "You'll
come back here under
my care. Mulder, I don't want to lose you either," she
pleaded.
He nodded in agreement and went to the hospital without
further argument.
When the tests came back negative the doctors had suggested an
overnight stay
for observation. Scully kept her word and brought the AMA form
for him to
sign, so he could release the hospital from any responsibility.
He then gingerly climbed into Scully's car and she drove back
to her
apartment. The ride was silent, but neither was sure if it was
due to any
discomfiture on their parts or the late hour. They suspected it
was a
combination of the two.
They arrived and the gods were obviously with them as she
found a parking
space right in front of the building. She got out of the car and
came round
to the passenger side to open the door for Mulder. Instead of
getting out of
the car, however, he remained seated looking straight ahead out
the
windshield.
"Mulder?"
"I think I should go home, Scully, to my own place."
"Mulder, the agreement was for you to come back here so I
could keep an eye
on you. Otherwise you belong in the hospital, Mulder. Besides, we
told the
Georgetown PD that we'd be there bright and early to make a
statement. I
don't want to have to have drive all the way from Alexandria to
the PD
tomorrow morning."
"I figured I'd meet you there. I have my car here
already, so you wouldn't
have to drive me home," he offered.
"Mulder, are you crazy? And more to the point, do you
think I'm crazy? Do
you really think I'd let you go off and drive by yourself back to
your
apartment now?" she asked rhetorically. "Get out of the
car, Mulder," she
ordered.
"Scully, but I __," he began.
"__But what? What is your problem, Mulder?" she asked in frustration.
"Scully, you're the one who kicked me out of your
apartment not four hours
ago with very specific orders not to grace your doorstop
again," he said
softly.
"Oh, Mulder, that has nothing to do with now. Don't you
understand me yet?
I couldn't admit my fear, my sense of helplessness to you; not
then when I'd
just made myself so vulnerable and admitted my feelings for you.
Mulder, I
stole your Knicks tee-shirt, for crying out loud," she
admitted with a small
smile.
He didn't have a choice. He had to smile in return. He turned
to face her,
finally, and saw the tears in her eyes, as she must have seen the
tears in
his own. "Okay, Scully, if you're sure."
"I'm sure, Mulder. I'm sure." She helped him up out
of the car and they
slowly walked up the steps together. "By the way,
Mulder," she asked with a
small, shy smile, "Just how attached are you to this
tee-shirt you're wearing
tonight?"
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
End of Part 4/4
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