Disclaimer: The characters of Mulder and Scully aren't mine, they belong to Chris Carter and FOX. All other characters are mine mine mine, please don't use without permission.
Please read and review! And by review I mean let me know WHY you hated or liked it, not just that you hated or liked it. Anything you say will help me improve :)
*****
Some Enchanted Evening
by AnneV
*****
Her hips surged up to meet his thrusts, the bedsprings creaking sinfully with their rhythmic movements. He moaned atop her, and she echoed him in a primal harmony. She clung to him as they rode their passion into the night, gasping, clutching, wet, wild.
What was she doing here? Why had she come with him, to this unfamiliar place, so far from home? She didn't know, but the music had been so loud, and his kisses so sweet and his voice so beautiful...The next thing she knew the wind was in her hair and they were driving through the desert, their laughter echoing behind them.
Then they had stopped, at this cheap motel, all flashing neon and hourly rates. There had been wine, laughter, his hands were so gentle, then deliciously rough. The stab of pain when he entered her was nothing compared to the pleasure that followed, and she reveled in it, writhing under him with ecstatic abandon.
"What would your daddy think now, hm?" He laughed into her ear, his voice low and rough. "The good Reverend seeing his little angel like this?"
She should care, she should care....but then he caught her nipple between his fingers and she didn't care anymore so long as he just...didn't...stop....oh god...his lips crushed against hers and she felt the first rush of her orgasm. The thrill was incredible, the first orgasm that she hadn't given herself, her hands dancing under the sheets and her pillow muffling her cries. She opened her eyes, looking up at her lover as she soared over the edge, wanting to savor this moment forever...
And she screamed.
**********
"I do apologize for the delay, Agents. My daughter hasn't been able to sleep since this whole...ordeal, and I just can't wake her right now."
Agent Scully nodded silently as Mulder smiled. "It's quite all right, Reverend, we can wait."
Scully could tell that his statement had been meant as a dismissal, and she saw the Reverend's hands twitch, an annoyed gesture, as if he wasn't used to being defied. Something in the back of her mind enjoyed his discomfiture, despite the situation that prompted their arrival.
The afternoon sun streamed in through the windows of the penthouse suite and set everything a-glitter, from the diamonds on the Reverend's rings to the amber liquid in the tumbler beside him. Scully shifted in her seat and tried to keep the faith that there was something in this vast, gilded, ornately decorated shrine that was small and unassuming and didn't shout to the world, "I have enough money to buy another Pope." Perhaps an ashtray, or a soapdish, or a toothbrush that someone got from a drug store, but she doubted the good Reverend would ever allow such a thing in this carefully crafted scene.
Reverend Elijah Canfield, renowned television evangelist known from the Bible Belt to the Golden Gate for his charisma and charm, had caught the attention of the FBI when his daughter disappeared from a convention here in Las Vegas and reappeared two days later in California, claiming to have been kidnapped. Since she was taken across state lines, it fell under their jurisdiction, and the...distinctive nature of her experience had brought the case to her and Mulder.
Scully shifted again, wishing profoundly that she were elsewhere. The scent of his cologne, a subtle scent that she normally liked, would never be the same to her again, and the almost palpable aura of self-importance that surrounded him turned her stomach. She despised people like him, those who claimed to speak for God, and could offer to whisper to him for everyone...for a price. Everything about the man, from his good ol' boy accent to his Armani suit oozed over everything he touched, a slug trail of conceit. She was more than happy to let Mulder do the talking this time; she didn't know if she could keep her tone steady as she regarded him.
"Now, when your daughter...."
"Christine, please."
Mulder nodded and continued. "When Christine called you from California, she claimed that she'd been assaulted?"
The Reverend's expression hardened. "Do *not* make light of my daughter's trauma, Agent Mulder. Her virtue was *ripped* from her, taken by--"
Mulder held up a quieting hand, taking control of the interview before the Reverend could run away with it. "Christine claimed that she'd been raped, Reverend?" Scully suppressed a smile. Yes or no, Reverend...no sermons this time.
"Yes, Agent Mulder." He shifted in his seat, taking another sip of his drink before setting it back down.
"And that she recognized her attacker?"
He nodded. "She did."
Mulder consulted his notebook again, even though Scully knew that he'd memorized the file on the flight out to Vegas. "She claimed that the attacker was Satan."
Another nod, this time with more conviction. "Precisely, Agent Mulder. The Devil himself."
Without missing a beat, he pressed on. "Do you believe her?"
There was a long pause as he considered his answer. "I believe my daughter was traumatized, and I believe that Satan is capable of taking many forms on this earth." He picked up his drink, gesturing with it before bringing it to his lips. "And I want to catch the bastard who did this to her."
Scully pondered the Reverend's answer as he sipped again. *So many ways to avoid the question, Reverend...of course you're well acquainted with skirting the truth.* She would have asked about the girl's mother, but the file had indicated she had died when Christine was three years old. She tried to picture a little girl growing up in this man's shadow and couldn't, but had no time to try again as Mulder continued.
"Did she mention any other name besides Satan when she told you what happened?" Mulder played dumb so well. "As I understand he has many names."
Ordinarily Mulder's callous treatment of religious issues made her mental hackles rise. She never said anything to him about it; she never needed to. She knew what she believed, and while she had come to believe a lot more during her time with the X-Files, her faith never wavered. No flippant remark from her partner was about to shake it, though apparently his words caused some tremors in the Reverend.
Canfield's eyes darkened, and his mild-mannered facade began to crumble as he set down his drink hard. "MISTER Mulder, I don't think I like your tone." He laced his fingers together over his broad belly, the tips white as he tried to disguise his anger. "I don't think my daughter's *vicious* attack deserves your callous attitude!"
"I don't remember his name."
Mulder and Canfield turned to see the wide blue eyes and sleep-mussed hair of a teenage girl. Scully, who had seen the door open and the girl edge out, spared a moment of resentment that a man of his dubious integrity had fathered a girl like that.
The silver satin pajamas she was wearing made her seem much younger than seventeen. Her light blonde hair tumbled past her shoulders in soft waves, and her fresh-scrubbed face and willowy build all came together to form a pretty girl that was just on the edge of becoming a stunning adult. She watched them all with frightened eyes, saying nothing after her initial statement.
"Christine?" Scully took her cue as Mulder's gaze slid to her for an instant. She put on her gentlest smile as she approached the girl. "My name is Dana Scully....you know why Agent Mulder and I are here?" She nodded silently, and Scully continued. "I'd like to ask you a few questions." The girl said nothing, but she backed out of the doorway, gesturing for her to follow. Scully glanced back at Mulder and the Reverend, then followed the girl into the bedroom as Mulder began talking again.
The bedroom had much the same opulence as the living room, but the occupant didn't seem to care as she curled up on the only chair and began playing with her hair, pulling a thick lock of it in front of her eyes. Scully sat on the bed and regarded her for a moment before breaking the silence. "I know how painful this must be to recall, but I need as much information as you can give me about your attacker."
At the word "attacker", the girl flinched slightly, and Scully saw the barest shake of her head. "I already told the police who he was." She pushed her full lips into a pout, still looking at the lock of hair she twisted around one finger.
Her voice lacked a southern drawl, which further led Scully to believe the Reverend's accent was affected rather than genuine. She pushed those thoughts to the back of her mind as she watched the girl. "Let's start at the beginning, okay?" She leaned forward so her elbows rested on her knees. "Where did you meet him?"
Christine didn't look up. "At Daddy's dinner party."
Scully made a note to review the security tapes of the ballroom event. "Did he sit at your table?" Head shake. "When did you meet him?"
"After dinner. When the music started." Her voice had a detached quality that set Scully's mental antennae on alert. Something she'd read not long ago....something about rape victims' reactions to their trauma didn't jive with the girl's demeanor. She kept that at the front of her mind as she continued.
"What did he look like?"
This time she caught the slightest upward twitch of the girl's lips, quickly suppressed as she answered. "He was tall, he had dark hair....hazel eyes....he was older."
She felt her eyebrow rise, and agreed with it. A near-smile was hardly the reaction of someone thinking of the man that raped her.
She stifled her own nod of realization as she considered the situation. A growing girl, an overbearing, domineering father with strong convictions regarding virtue....the pieces were falling into place with a familiarity that was uncanny. She could apply the same description to her younger years. *But I didn't lie about it* she thought, *I didn't put a young man in criminal danger because I was afraid to tell my father.*
"Were you drinking that night?" Scully knew the answer, but wanted to see how the girl would react to the implications.
She was not disappointed; the girl's gaze was icy...and scared? "Everyone was drinking.....I had some champagne." Her expression darkened slightly, and the resemblance to her father's petulant stare was remarkable. "What does that have to do with it?"
Now to give her the hook, the "out" that she would take if she was lying. "Did he get you a drink? He could have drugged you. Use of Rohypnol is common in cases like these."
It was as if she was watching a textbook. In the space of two seconds, she could see the girl considering the suggestion, weighing it against the validity of her original story and the consequences if she added that detail to it. The nod, uncertain at first, gained conviction quickly. "He brought me a glass of champagne, yes." Her eyes were wide. "Do you think....?" The tears welled up quickly, the image of innocence shattered.
Scully wasn't fooled for a second. Time to end this game before the girl dug herself too deep. "I think....that you haven't been truthful with us, Christine."
The girl froze. Even the tear stopped rolling down her cheek. Caught. "You left the party with him willingly, didn't you?"
She had to admit, the girl was good. The fear didn't change, but it still had the discordant ring of lies. "Please don't tell Daddy..." She sniffled. "He gets so mad...sometimes--"
She was not amused. "How about this one....and stop me if I stray from the thread here." She didn't wait for an answer as she continued. "You were at your father's dinner party. You didn't want to go, but you couldn't very well say no. Dry chicken, disgusting gravy, all these people with their hands out, looking for your father's money. You were bored. There was no one there to talk to, and you wanted to leave.
"Then he came along. Tall, dark hair, hazel eyes...older man...he smiled at you, brought you a drink, treated you like an *adult*, instead of Daddy's girl. You danced with him, maybe had a bit more than a glass of champagne. He suggested that you two leave, find somewhere more fun, more private...whatever, and you were only too relieved to say yes."
Christine watched her silently, all pretenses dropped, sullen acquiescence in her gaze. "You left the party, and he suggested a midnight drive. You didn't notice how far you'd gone because of all the champagne, and you were already a little sleepy when he pulled into a motel."
Scully paused, but the girl had nothing to offer, staring at the fringes of her hair. "So, there you were. A little drunk, a lot happy to be doing something that would send your father into a conniption, and things progressed to their logical end."
At this, the girl seemed to jolt out of her sullen reverie, and her eyes widened. "No! No they didn't, that was the thing!"
Scully tilted her head. "You didn't have intercourse with him." She didn't phrase it as a question; the girl had without a doubt had sex that night. The rape kit had revealed that much, though it was the absence of any actual -injury- other than to the girl's hymen had that roused her suspicions.
Christine blew the lock of hair away from her face. "I did, but something happened....when I looked at him, he changed..." *Now* her fear was genuine; she shivered and hugged her arms around herself. Her whisper was loud in the quiet room. "It was the devil, Agent Scully....and I wouldn't lie about that."
Scully paused in the face of the girl's conviction. She had figured that this aspect of the story would crumble as easily as the circumstances. But now the circumstances didn't seem to matter as the girl pulled her knees up to her chest, rocking back and forth slightly in the chair.
An internal battle began. Scully knew without a doubt that there was evil in the world as much as there was good. She had seen irrefutable examples of both in her time with the X-Files. She had stared evil in the face, she had seen angels in the night. She had put her life on the line to protect a child that was more holy than a thousand Reverend Canfields. Still, she *had* to find out. "Christine, I know that you're scared, and I know why you lied about the kidnapping, but are you absolutely *sure* of his...identity?"
The girl looked her in the eye, her gaze steady for the first time since she entered the room, and nodded. "It was him....I saw the horns, and his legs....!" She paused, then continued. "I was so scared, but I didn't tell him to stop." She seemed almost incredulous at her own words. "I felt so free with him, like I could do anything if I just let go, you know?" She looked down at her hands. "If I stopped caring what Daddy expected of me and followed my own heart." She gave a brief, choked laugh. "Pretty crazy, huh? Here I am, saying I was raped by the Devil when I loved every minute of it."
Scully said nothing, remembering her own mother's surprise when she showed up at her doorstep in tears, hearing her own broken voice saying how ashamed her father would be, how dependent she had been of his approval, even after his death. There was something else, tickling at the back of her memories, but it faded quickly as Christine went on.
"How was I supposed to tell him what happened? You saw him, the Almighty Elijah Canfield...how would I live after that with him trying to *cleanse* me of my "wanton behavior"?" She said the last in a dead-on imitation of her father. "I finally felt like I had *lived*, and if I tell him now that I liked it, my life will be over before it has the chance to start!" She shook her head, tears beginning to stream down her face.
Scully felt an unexpected pang of sympathy as Christine started to cry. This girl had lived most of her life without a mother, and a father who not only didn't understand women but treated them as saints, expecting nothing less than saintly behavior. She needed someone to tell her it was okay to feel this way, someone who knew about passion restrained and could comfort a guilty conscience....she froze in the act of reaching out for the girl. As much as she wanted to, she couldn't be that person, no matter how familiar this situation seemed. Not if she still wanted to do her job.
"Christine, I know this has been hard for you....but in the interest of what really happened, I need you to tell me the truth about that night." The girl nodded and sniffled, her tears subsiding; she'd figured that much out at least, and seemed to be coming to grips with it. "He did commit a crime, and we are going to find him, but I need you to tell me as much as you can remember. Was there anything he said or did that can help us identify him?"
She scrubbed at her tears, now looking every bit of scared seventeen as she tried to think. "He kept talking about a golden bear....teasing me about worshipping a golden bear instead of a calf....it was so weird...but I was drunk." Her expression was finally earnest as she looked up. "I swear, that's all I remember, that and what I told you."
Scully nodded. Christine had had enough for today, and that last remark had struck a chord. She spoke softly, putting as much sympathy as she could into her voice. "Christine, I can understand how hard this has been, and how hard it's going to be to get through this. What I can tell you is this; wanting to test your wings isn't evil, especially at this point in your life. Wanting to do something that would make your father angry is certainly par for the course of being a teenager." *Trust me* "Still, no matter how much you think you liked it, you *were* a victim of a crime, and it had nothing to do with the devil trying to tempt you away from your path."
Christine listened, wide-eyed, and sucked her lip between her teeth. "Agent Scully? Daddy does say that the Devil is the master of lies..." her hands rubbed at her thighs, as if to scrub away what had happened. "Could he have *made* me like it? Or made me think I liked it?" The look in her eyes was pleading, and again Scully stopped herself from taking her hand.
"Call a rape crisis center, and see if you can talk to a counselor. They can recommend support groups or individual counseling, whichever you prefer." She put her hand on the girl's shoulder. "Whatever *did* happen that night....it wasn't your fault, and the counseling will help you put yourself back together."
The girl nodded. "I understand....thank you."
The corners of her mouth inched upward, and for a moment, seeing that sweet smile, Scully could understand any parent wanting to protect their daughter from harm. She'd seen that smile on an even younger girl, and swallowed the lump in her throat as she blinked away Emily's face. She rose, and gave Christine's shoulder a reassuring squeeze. "It's going to be all right." She smiled down at her, and as she turned to leave, she heard a soft, "I know."
She emerged into the spacious living room, and the Reverend stood at her entrance. "How is she, Agent Scully?"
She spoke to him for the first time since he'd let them in, and now it wasn't hard at all to keep her voice steady. "She's going to be fine, Reverend, but she's been through a lot and is going to need some help getting through this. I've recommended a rape crisis center, and they can help her get into counseling."
He nodded rapidly, and for a moment he looked just as lost as any father would be after a trauma like this touched his family. "Whatever you think is best, she'll get it." He gave a hesitant smile, and Scully returned it without venom; perhaps there was humanity in him after all.
He looked to Mulder, and her partner picked up on the tacit dismissal. "Scully and I are going to review the tapes of the dinner event from last week. We'll inform you when we have any other leads, and please call us if you or your daughter remember anything."
He passed the Reverend a business card, and Canfield tucked it into his breast pocket. "I'll call, Agent Mulder. Thank you both, and I hope that you catch the bastard who has shattered what's left of my family."
Mulder joined her at the door. "We'll do everything we can, Reverend. Good day."
Mulder looked down at her as they exited the suite. "What did you find out with the girl?"
She gave a half-shrug. "Well, the devil may have made her do it, but not in the way you're thinking." She looked at her watch. "Let's go review some of the tapes before dinner. I want to check something out."
Mulder smiled, and she knew exactly what was coming. "Can I have an amen for the marvels of security video!"
**********
Reverend Canfield ordered up some dinner for Christine. "I'm just going to stay in tonight and watch TV," she'd said, and he'd left her alone. He looked at the trashy tabloid that now graced the coffee table.
REVERND'S DAUGHTER RAPED BY THE DEVIL!
He gritted his teeth until he felt his jaw creak. He didn't know who the leak at the police station was, but *someone* was going to pay for this blight on his reputation. He picked up the phone a second time and dialed. His accent was shed as easily as his peaceful demeanor as he spoke into the phone.
"I may have a job for you. I'll be in touch."
Please read and review! And by review I mean let me know WHY you hated or liked it, not just that you hated or liked it. Anything you say will help me improve :)
*****
Some Enchanted Evening
by AnneV
*****
Her hips surged up to meet his thrusts, the bedsprings creaking sinfully with their rhythmic movements. He moaned atop her, and she echoed him in a primal harmony. She clung to him as they rode their passion into the night, gasping, clutching, wet, wild.
What was she doing here? Why had she come with him, to this unfamiliar place, so far from home? She didn't know, but the music had been so loud, and his kisses so sweet and his voice so beautiful...The next thing she knew the wind was in her hair and they were driving through the desert, their laughter echoing behind them.
Then they had stopped, at this cheap motel, all flashing neon and hourly rates. There had been wine, laughter, his hands were so gentle, then deliciously rough. The stab of pain when he entered her was nothing compared to the pleasure that followed, and she reveled in it, writhing under him with ecstatic abandon.
"What would your daddy think now, hm?" He laughed into her ear, his voice low and rough. "The good Reverend seeing his little angel like this?"
She should care, she should care....but then he caught her nipple between his fingers and she didn't care anymore so long as he just...didn't...stop....oh god...his lips crushed against hers and she felt the first rush of her orgasm. The thrill was incredible, the first orgasm that she hadn't given herself, her hands dancing under the sheets and her pillow muffling her cries. She opened her eyes, looking up at her lover as she soared over the edge, wanting to savor this moment forever...
And she screamed.
**********
"I do apologize for the delay, Agents. My daughter hasn't been able to sleep since this whole...ordeal, and I just can't wake her right now."
Agent Scully nodded silently as Mulder smiled. "It's quite all right, Reverend, we can wait."
Scully could tell that his statement had been meant as a dismissal, and she saw the Reverend's hands twitch, an annoyed gesture, as if he wasn't used to being defied. Something in the back of her mind enjoyed his discomfiture, despite the situation that prompted their arrival.
The afternoon sun streamed in through the windows of the penthouse suite and set everything a-glitter, from the diamonds on the Reverend's rings to the amber liquid in the tumbler beside him. Scully shifted in her seat and tried to keep the faith that there was something in this vast, gilded, ornately decorated shrine that was small and unassuming and didn't shout to the world, "I have enough money to buy another Pope." Perhaps an ashtray, or a soapdish, or a toothbrush that someone got from a drug store, but she doubted the good Reverend would ever allow such a thing in this carefully crafted scene.
Reverend Elijah Canfield, renowned television evangelist known from the Bible Belt to the Golden Gate for his charisma and charm, had caught the attention of the FBI when his daughter disappeared from a convention here in Las Vegas and reappeared two days later in California, claiming to have been kidnapped. Since she was taken across state lines, it fell under their jurisdiction, and the...distinctive nature of her experience had brought the case to her and Mulder.
Scully shifted again, wishing profoundly that she were elsewhere. The scent of his cologne, a subtle scent that she normally liked, would never be the same to her again, and the almost palpable aura of self-importance that surrounded him turned her stomach. She despised people like him, those who claimed to speak for God, and could offer to whisper to him for everyone...for a price. Everything about the man, from his good ol' boy accent to his Armani suit oozed over everything he touched, a slug trail of conceit. She was more than happy to let Mulder do the talking this time; she didn't know if she could keep her tone steady as she regarded him.
"Now, when your daughter...."
"Christine, please."
Mulder nodded and continued. "When Christine called you from California, she claimed that she'd been assaulted?"
The Reverend's expression hardened. "Do *not* make light of my daughter's trauma, Agent Mulder. Her virtue was *ripped* from her, taken by--"
Mulder held up a quieting hand, taking control of the interview before the Reverend could run away with it. "Christine claimed that she'd been raped, Reverend?" Scully suppressed a smile. Yes or no, Reverend...no sermons this time.
"Yes, Agent Mulder." He shifted in his seat, taking another sip of his drink before setting it back down.
"And that she recognized her attacker?"
He nodded. "She did."
Mulder consulted his notebook again, even though Scully knew that he'd memorized the file on the flight out to Vegas. "She claimed that the attacker was Satan."
Another nod, this time with more conviction. "Precisely, Agent Mulder. The Devil himself."
Without missing a beat, he pressed on. "Do you believe her?"
There was a long pause as he considered his answer. "I believe my daughter was traumatized, and I believe that Satan is capable of taking many forms on this earth." He picked up his drink, gesturing with it before bringing it to his lips. "And I want to catch the bastard who did this to her."
Scully pondered the Reverend's answer as he sipped again. *So many ways to avoid the question, Reverend...of course you're well acquainted with skirting the truth.* She would have asked about the girl's mother, but the file had indicated she had died when Christine was three years old. She tried to picture a little girl growing up in this man's shadow and couldn't, but had no time to try again as Mulder continued.
"Did she mention any other name besides Satan when she told you what happened?" Mulder played dumb so well. "As I understand he has many names."
Ordinarily Mulder's callous treatment of religious issues made her mental hackles rise. She never said anything to him about it; she never needed to. She knew what she believed, and while she had come to believe a lot more during her time with the X-Files, her faith never wavered. No flippant remark from her partner was about to shake it, though apparently his words caused some tremors in the Reverend.
Canfield's eyes darkened, and his mild-mannered facade began to crumble as he set down his drink hard. "MISTER Mulder, I don't think I like your tone." He laced his fingers together over his broad belly, the tips white as he tried to disguise his anger. "I don't think my daughter's *vicious* attack deserves your callous attitude!"
"I don't remember his name."
Mulder and Canfield turned to see the wide blue eyes and sleep-mussed hair of a teenage girl. Scully, who had seen the door open and the girl edge out, spared a moment of resentment that a man of his dubious integrity had fathered a girl like that.
The silver satin pajamas she was wearing made her seem much younger than seventeen. Her light blonde hair tumbled past her shoulders in soft waves, and her fresh-scrubbed face and willowy build all came together to form a pretty girl that was just on the edge of becoming a stunning adult. She watched them all with frightened eyes, saying nothing after her initial statement.
"Christine?" Scully took her cue as Mulder's gaze slid to her for an instant. She put on her gentlest smile as she approached the girl. "My name is Dana Scully....you know why Agent Mulder and I are here?" She nodded silently, and Scully continued. "I'd like to ask you a few questions." The girl said nothing, but she backed out of the doorway, gesturing for her to follow. Scully glanced back at Mulder and the Reverend, then followed the girl into the bedroom as Mulder began talking again.
The bedroom had much the same opulence as the living room, but the occupant didn't seem to care as she curled up on the only chair and began playing with her hair, pulling a thick lock of it in front of her eyes. Scully sat on the bed and regarded her for a moment before breaking the silence. "I know how painful this must be to recall, but I need as much information as you can give me about your attacker."
At the word "attacker", the girl flinched slightly, and Scully saw the barest shake of her head. "I already told the police who he was." She pushed her full lips into a pout, still looking at the lock of hair she twisted around one finger.
Her voice lacked a southern drawl, which further led Scully to believe the Reverend's accent was affected rather than genuine. She pushed those thoughts to the back of her mind as she watched the girl. "Let's start at the beginning, okay?" She leaned forward so her elbows rested on her knees. "Where did you meet him?"
Christine didn't look up. "At Daddy's dinner party."
Scully made a note to review the security tapes of the ballroom event. "Did he sit at your table?" Head shake. "When did you meet him?"
"After dinner. When the music started." Her voice had a detached quality that set Scully's mental antennae on alert. Something she'd read not long ago....something about rape victims' reactions to their trauma didn't jive with the girl's demeanor. She kept that at the front of her mind as she continued.
"What did he look like?"
This time she caught the slightest upward twitch of the girl's lips, quickly suppressed as she answered. "He was tall, he had dark hair....hazel eyes....he was older."
She felt her eyebrow rise, and agreed with it. A near-smile was hardly the reaction of someone thinking of the man that raped her.
She stifled her own nod of realization as she considered the situation. A growing girl, an overbearing, domineering father with strong convictions regarding virtue....the pieces were falling into place with a familiarity that was uncanny. She could apply the same description to her younger years. *But I didn't lie about it* she thought, *I didn't put a young man in criminal danger because I was afraid to tell my father.*
"Were you drinking that night?" Scully knew the answer, but wanted to see how the girl would react to the implications.
She was not disappointed; the girl's gaze was icy...and scared? "Everyone was drinking.....I had some champagne." Her expression darkened slightly, and the resemblance to her father's petulant stare was remarkable. "What does that have to do with it?"
Now to give her the hook, the "out" that she would take if she was lying. "Did he get you a drink? He could have drugged you. Use of Rohypnol is common in cases like these."
It was as if she was watching a textbook. In the space of two seconds, she could see the girl considering the suggestion, weighing it against the validity of her original story and the consequences if she added that detail to it. The nod, uncertain at first, gained conviction quickly. "He brought me a glass of champagne, yes." Her eyes were wide. "Do you think....?" The tears welled up quickly, the image of innocence shattered.
Scully wasn't fooled for a second. Time to end this game before the girl dug herself too deep. "I think....that you haven't been truthful with us, Christine."
The girl froze. Even the tear stopped rolling down her cheek. Caught. "You left the party with him willingly, didn't you?"
She had to admit, the girl was good. The fear didn't change, but it still had the discordant ring of lies. "Please don't tell Daddy..." She sniffled. "He gets so mad...sometimes--"
She was not amused. "How about this one....and stop me if I stray from the thread here." She didn't wait for an answer as she continued. "You were at your father's dinner party. You didn't want to go, but you couldn't very well say no. Dry chicken, disgusting gravy, all these people with their hands out, looking for your father's money. You were bored. There was no one there to talk to, and you wanted to leave.
"Then he came along. Tall, dark hair, hazel eyes...older man...he smiled at you, brought you a drink, treated you like an *adult*, instead of Daddy's girl. You danced with him, maybe had a bit more than a glass of champagne. He suggested that you two leave, find somewhere more fun, more private...whatever, and you were only too relieved to say yes."
Christine watched her silently, all pretenses dropped, sullen acquiescence in her gaze. "You left the party, and he suggested a midnight drive. You didn't notice how far you'd gone because of all the champagne, and you were already a little sleepy when he pulled into a motel."
Scully paused, but the girl had nothing to offer, staring at the fringes of her hair. "So, there you were. A little drunk, a lot happy to be doing something that would send your father into a conniption, and things progressed to their logical end."
At this, the girl seemed to jolt out of her sullen reverie, and her eyes widened. "No! No they didn't, that was the thing!"
Scully tilted her head. "You didn't have intercourse with him." She didn't phrase it as a question; the girl had without a doubt had sex that night. The rape kit had revealed that much, though it was the absence of any actual -injury- other than to the girl's hymen had that roused her suspicions.
Christine blew the lock of hair away from her face. "I did, but something happened....when I looked at him, he changed..." *Now* her fear was genuine; she shivered and hugged her arms around herself. Her whisper was loud in the quiet room. "It was the devil, Agent Scully....and I wouldn't lie about that."
Scully paused in the face of the girl's conviction. She had figured that this aspect of the story would crumble as easily as the circumstances. But now the circumstances didn't seem to matter as the girl pulled her knees up to her chest, rocking back and forth slightly in the chair.
An internal battle began. Scully knew without a doubt that there was evil in the world as much as there was good. She had seen irrefutable examples of both in her time with the X-Files. She had stared evil in the face, she had seen angels in the night. She had put her life on the line to protect a child that was more holy than a thousand Reverend Canfields. Still, she *had* to find out. "Christine, I know that you're scared, and I know why you lied about the kidnapping, but are you absolutely *sure* of his...identity?"
The girl looked her in the eye, her gaze steady for the first time since she entered the room, and nodded. "It was him....I saw the horns, and his legs....!" She paused, then continued. "I was so scared, but I didn't tell him to stop." She seemed almost incredulous at her own words. "I felt so free with him, like I could do anything if I just let go, you know?" She looked down at her hands. "If I stopped caring what Daddy expected of me and followed my own heart." She gave a brief, choked laugh. "Pretty crazy, huh? Here I am, saying I was raped by the Devil when I loved every minute of it."
Scully said nothing, remembering her own mother's surprise when she showed up at her doorstep in tears, hearing her own broken voice saying how ashamed her father would be, how dependent she had been of his approval, even after his death. There was something else, tickling at the back of her memories, but it faded quickly as Christine went on.
"How was I supposed to tell him what happened? You saw him, the Almighty Elijah Canfield...how would I live after that with him trying to *cleanse* me of my "wanton behavior"?" She said the last in a dead-on imitation of her father. "I finally felt like I had *lived*, and if I tell him now that I liked it, my life will be over before it has the chance to start!" She shook her head, tears beginning to stream down her face.
Scully felt an unexpected pang of sympathy as Christine started to cry. This girl had lived most of her life without a mother, and a father who not only didn't understand women but treated them as saints, expecting nothing less than saintly behavior. She needed someone to tell her it was okay to feel this way, someone who knew about passion restrained and could comfort a guilty conscience....she froze in the act of reaching out for the girl. As much as she wanted to, she couldn't be that person, no matter how familiar this situation seemed. Not if she still wanted to do her job.
"Christine, I know this has been hard for you....but in the interest of what really happened, I need you to tell me the truth about that night." The girl nodded and sniffled, her tears subsiding; she'd figured that much out at least, and seemed to be coming to grips with it. "He did commit a crime, and we are going to find him, but I need you to tell me as much as you can remember. Was there anything he said or did that can help us identify him?"
She scrubbed at her tears, now looking every bit of scared seventeen as she tried to think. "He kept talking about a golden bear....teasing me about worshipping a golden bear instead of a calf....it was so weird...but I was drunk." Her expression was finally earnest as she looked up. "I swear, that's all I remember, that and what I told you."
Scully nodded. Christine had had enough for today, and that last remark had struck a chord. She spoke softly, putting as much sympathy as she could into her voice. "Christine, I can understand how hard this has been, and how hard it's going to be to get through this. What I can tell you is this; wanting to test your wings isn't evil, especially at this point in your life. Wanting to do something that would make your father angry is certainly par for the course of being a teenager." *Trust me* "Still, no matter how much you think you liked it, you *were* a victim of a crime, and it had nothing to do with the devil trying to tempt you away from your path."
Christine listened, wide-eyed, and sucked her lip between her teeth. "Agent Scully? Daddy does say that the Devil is the master of lies..." her hands rubbed at her thighs, as if to scrub away what had happened. "Could he have *made* me like it? Or made me think I liked it?" The look in her eyes was pleading, and again Scully stopped herself from taking her hand.
"Call a rape crisis center, and see if you can talk to a counselor. They can recommend support groups or individual counseling, whichever you prefer." She put her hand on the girl's shoulder. "Whatever *did* happen that night....it wasn't your fault, and the counseling will help you put yourself back together."
The girl nodded. "I understand....thank you."
The corners of her mouth inched upward, and for a moment, seeing that sweet smile, Scully could understand any parent wanting to protect their daughter from harm. She'd seen that smile on an even younger girl, and swallowed the lump in her throat as she blinked away Emily's face. She rose, and gave Christine's shoulder a reassuring squeeze. "It's going to be all right." She smiled down at her, and as she turned to leave, she heard a soft, "I know."
She emerged into the spacious living room, and the Reverend stood at her entrance. "How is she, Agent Scully?"
She spoke to him for the first time since he'd let them in, and now it wasn't hard at all to keep her voice steady. "She's going to be fine, Reverend, but she's been through a lot and is going to need some help getting through this. I've recommended a rape crisis center, and they can help her get into counseling."
He nodded rapidly, and for a moment he looked just as lost as any father would be after a trauma like this touched his family. "Whatever you think is best, she'll get it." He gave a hesitant smile, and Scully returned it without venom; perhaps there was humanity in him after all.
He looked to Mulder, and her partner picked up on the tacit dismissal. "Scully and I are going to review the tapes of the dinner event from last week. We'll inform you when we have any other leads, and please call us if you or your daughter remember anything."
He passed the Reverend a business card, and Canfield tucked it into his breast pocket. "I'll call, Agent Mulder. Thank you both, and I hope that you catch the bastard who has shattered what's left of my family."
Mulder joined her at the door. "We'll do everything we can, Reverend. Good day."
Mulder looked down at her as they exited the suite. "What did you find out with the girl?"
She gave a half-shrug. "Well, the devil may have made her do it, but not in the way you're thinking." She looked at her watch. "Let's go review some of the tapes before dinner. I want to check something out."
Mulder smiled, and she knew exactly what was coming. "Can I have an amen for the marvels of security video!"
**********
Reverend Canfield ordered up some dinner for Christine. "I'm just going to stay in tonight and watch TV," she'd said, and he'd left her alone. He looked at the trashy tabloid that now graced the coffee table.
REVERND'S DAUGHTER RAPED BY THE DEVIL!
He gritted his teeth until he felt his jaw creak. He didn't know who the leak at the police station was, but *someone* was going to pay for this blight on his reputation. He picked up the phone a second time and dialed. His accent was shed as easily as his peaceful demeanor as he spoke into the phone.
"I may have a job for you. I'll be in touch."