Agent Dana Scully was typing away on her laptop when her partner arrived. She didn't even glance up, barely acknowledged him other than a short utter of, "Mulder."
It took all of her willpower to be in the same room with him now, after what had been progressing the past week.
Scully knew it was wrong to be angry that Mulder had a new girlfriend. After all, she had never ventured to tell him her feelings, so why shouldn't he share his own with someone else? It was perfectly fair, and she knew it.
But whenever he came into work, flushed and tired, his hair sticking up higher than usual, she couldn't help grieving over everything she had lost.
"So, Skinner assigned me another goose chase," said Mulder, as he sat down and propped his feet lightly on the desk beside her.
Scully simply nodded.
"Well, more specifically a doll chase." He placed a folder on top of her keyboard.
She took a cursory look at the file, before pushing it aside and continuing with her typing. "Voodoo dolls, Mulder?" she asked, not being able to resist this little dig of sarcasm at him.
"Not exactly."
Scully didn't allow her eyes to find his face, but she knew he was smiling. God, how she loved that smile! Subtle and mysterious, the way his lips slightly curled up, and his green eyes narrowed. She wanted to see it more than anything, just this once, but she knew that if she gave herself the pleasure, she would feel even worse than she already did.
"Apparently there's some sort of famous doll missing from a museum somewhere. The curator, Margaret Davis, has been panicking beyond belief."
"So, why did Skinner drag you into it?"
"Probably wants to keep me occupied." Agent Mulder slid his chair closer to Scully.
Immediately her heartbeat quickened. He smelled so wonderful; it must have been his cologne. Her heart sank when she realized he most likely put it on for her, his new girlfriend.
Scully had been fortunate enough not to meet her, which didn't prove to be very hard since Mulder hardly spoke of her, much less went around showing her off. She knew the woman's name was Claudia, and she assumed she was pretty (probably much prettier than her), but other than that; this new edition to her partner's life had stayed in the shadows. Which was, of course, where she mostly preferred it to be.
"Uh…occupied?" Scully inclined, suddenly remembering he was still sitting there. She sincerely hoped he couldn't hear her heart racing in her chest, or see the hairs on her neck standing on end.
"Anyway, I'm not starting until Monday," said Mulder, getting up to grab his coat.
Scully finally looked up at her partner, but right away wished she hadn't. The first button on his shirt had come undone, and his tie was just loose enough to be pulled off. Before she could stop herself, she imagined pulling it off all the way, feeling his skin against hers, the touch of his lips…
"Hey, Scully, is there a government conspiracy behind me, or just a knife in my chest?" His eyebrows rose as he grinned playfully at her.
Her thoughts dispersed, and she was so embarrassed she could hardly speak. What did he think of her now, staring hungrily at his bare skin?
"W-Where are you going?" she managed to get out.
Mulder hesitated before finishing buttoning his coat. "I'll be back," he replied, flashing her a mischievous smile before shutting the door behind him.
As soon as he had gone, Scully clutched her face in her hands and hit her head against the desk. What the hell was wrong with her? Couldn't she control herself for one damn second? What was it about him that made her so weak?
She closed her laptop and decided to go home, take some well-deserved time off. She just hoped she wouldn't run into Fox Mulder on the way.
Mulder lingered outside his office door. What was the matter with Dana today? Her bright blue eyes were strangely dull, her shoulders sagged, and he could have sworn he saw her blush after he had teased her.
Had it been family issues? And if it was, why wouldn't she tell him? Was there some reason she felt she couldn't trust him? Or maybe it was the new cologne he had bought. He hoped she would like it, but clearly it made her uneasy. He wouldn't wear it tomorrow, he decided. Or maybe he would wear something less strong…
He froze as the thought came to him that it could have to do with Claudia. He was sure her respect for him had gone down ever since he had told her he was seeing her, but he had assured himself she would understand.
Mulder's thoughts swam endlessly around his head as he made his way slowly to the car, desperately trying to deduct what he had done. Why was it that in any case, he could pick out the detail no one else could, but when it came to his partner, he was completely clueless?
He hated calling her that. His partner. But he knew that was what Dana wanted, for their relationship to stay strictly within the colleague realm. And he would do whatever she wanted.
He set off down the road, focusing his thoughts on his destination.
Scully stared at the phone on the wall. She kept having this urge to reach for it, to dial his number, just to see if he was okay, that was all, but she discouraged herself from it. She didn't want to be even more embarrassed than she already was.
What a fool she had made out of herself! She knew if she was going to hold it together, she needed to try harder. She had to flirt with him innocently like she always did, to question his every motive. That was what Dana Scully did.
She groaned and collapsed on the couch, scolding herself for being so uptight and pathetic. She couldn't just sit at home every day, worrying about a man who was out with another girl.
Maybe she just needed some time to clear her head. Maybe go on a date, or to a club. What was there to lose? If Mulder could have a good time, why couldn't she? What was stopping her?
Scully dressed quickly and headed outside into the night air.
"Mulder, is everything all right?"
Mulder lifted his head to look at Claudia. "Of course," he answered lazily, shifting on the couch.
Claudia removed her pencil from behind her ear and began scribbling something in her notebook.
Mulder eyed her suspiciously. "What are you writing?"
Claudia smiled and ignored him. "You just seem a little…pressured." She leaned forward in her seat to examine him. "I know this must be a rough time for you, what with your father and all—"
"Can we…not talk about that?" Mulder interrupted.
"Talk about what?"
"You know…" Mulder's eyes slid to the window, where the trees were swaying in the wind.
"Have you told your partner that you've been coming to see me?"
He closed his eyes and buried his face in his hands. "Yes," he answered finally.
"And how does she feel about that?"
He stared at the window again. "I'm sure she thinks I'm insane."
"Why would you think that?" Claudia looked at him with concern.
Mulder stood up from the couch and started to pace. "Because I'm an F.B.I. agent. I should be able to take care of myself."
"You can take care of yourself, Mulder. Everyone needs a little help sometimes."
Mulder sat down again. "She's…so confusing sometimes."
"Who?"
"Dana."
"You call her Dana?"
"That's her name, isn't it?" he demanded, irritated.
"Does she call you Fox?"
"No," Mulder snapped. He should have known that he would eventually have to talk about her with his therapist, but even so, he wasn't prepared. What if he should let something slip?
"Mulder, is Dana your friend?"
Mulder laughed. "Of course."
"You would consider the two of you to be close?"
Not close enough, he thought. "Yes, very," he confirmed. "I would trust her with my life, and I'm sure she'd do the same."
Claudia nodded. "And yet you were hesitant in telling her you've been coming to see me?"
"Well, definitely." Mulder sighed. "I want her to be able to respect me."
"Do you think she does?"
Mulder closed his eyes again. His mind was occupied with visions of her, laughing, crying, his arms encircled around her, staring into her blue eyes. "I sincerely hope so," he replied.
In another city, in another part of the country, far away from Washington, D.C., a man was lighting a cigarette.
It was his fifth in the past hour, but he couldn't help it. He smoked when he was thinking.
And he was always thinking.
"Sir, you wanted to see me, sir?"
The man turned slowly, then smiled. "Yes, Darren. Please. Have a seat." He gestured breezily to the empty chair in front of his desk.
Darren sat down nervously, wiping sweat off of his brow.
"Rough night, Darren?" the man asked, stifling a laugh.
"Yes, sir." Darren's eyes darted frantically around the room.
"Then, I guess we should just cut to the chase." The man took a long drag of his cigarette and leaned forward on the table. "Darren, I like you. You're a good agent and a good man."
Darren swallowed, his eyes fixed on the cigarette. "T-Thank you, sir."
"No, thank you." The man licked his lips, then continued, "You're the only person I could trust with this job." Slowly, keeping the cigarette in his teeth, he opened a drawer on his desk. Darren's eyes followed him quietly.
The man gently pulled out a large photograph and placed it right in front of his companion. "Do you recognize this woman?" he asked.
Darren stared at it intently, not wanting to let down his boss. Red hair, blue eyes, pale skin, gorgeous but unfamiliar. "Uh…no, sir. I've never seen her before in my life."
The man crushed his cigarette in a crystal ashtray on the corner of the desk. "Then you should be paying more attention."
"W-Who is she?" Darren stammered, more confused than ever.
The corners of the man's mouth curled up into a dangerous smile. He leaned back in his chair, lit another cigarette, then replied, "Special Agent Dana Scully. And tonight, I want her dead."
As soon as Scully opened the double doors of the nightclub on the corner, she regretted coming. She felt so out of place there, a small, high-strung woman in her thirties, surrounded by grinding, muscular college students and blaring music.
She considered leaving, just turning back and heading the way she came, but she talked herself out of it. She needed this more than anything.
Scully took a cautious step farther into the room. Gathering her confidence, she made her way quickly to a dark corner in the back. She retouched her lipstick, hiked her dress up, and scanned the scene before her.
Instantly, she spotted a lone man, who looked to be about her age. For a second she thought it might be Mulder, and her face flushed with hope.
But after another look, her wishes were silenced. This man was tall, dark, and handsome. He had a cigar in his mouth, and was chewing it gently with his teeth. Any of her friends would drool over a man like that, she thought, so why shouldn't she? He seemed nice enough. Sure, he was missing the beautiful green eyes, the subdued smile, the playful manner, the captivating ability to believe…
She shook away her thoughts. You're supposed to be here to forget about Mulder, she reminded herself. After a moment to catch her breath, she approached him.
"Hi," she said, trying to bat her eyelashes.
The man looked at her, surprised. "Hi." She could feel his eyes slide up and down her, evaluating her. She tried not to notice.
"What's a classy girl like you doing in a place like this?"
Scully tucked some hair behind her ear, unsure of how to respond. It had been so long since she had done this, any of this. What was she doing?
The man touched her face lightly. In a moment, his expression changed. She could practically feel his heart racing.
"You wanna…go somewhere?" he asked, smiling.
Dana, this is crazy, Scully thought. She wanted to run away right then.
But she remembered Mulder, and where he was right now. She had to do this. Not only for him, but also for herself.
She turned to the man and summoned her courage.
"Sure," she said.
As Mulder made his way back to his apartment in the dark, he considered the previous events of his therapy session. She truly was skilled, he thought. In the course of thirty minutes she had managed to extract from him nearly every feeling he had for Dana Scully.
He contemplated stopping by her apartment, just to say hello. Maybe ask her to take a walk with him. Then she could tell him why she had acted so strange in his office this morning. Maybe he would stop her on the corner and kiss her gently, and he would finally have the guts to tell her…
But even as his expectations played out in his mind, he knew how wrong they sounded. Everything was wrong when it came to Dana.
He pulled over his car, right next to where she lived. He would just knock on the door, that's all. If she didn't answer, that would be that. Besides, the last place he wanted to go was back to his apartment, where he would eat alone, sleep alone, dream about her…
Mulder got out of his car and climbed the stairs to Scully's home. The night was cold and humid, and the warm lobby of the apartment was wonderfully calming.
He took the elevator up by himself, until he found himself standing in front of her door.
He stood there, his hand poised to ring the bell. All of a sudden, he felt exceedingly stupid. What if she got annoyed with him for coming so late? How could he forgive himself if had caused her to wake up?
Then again, maybe she'd come out in her robe. Her hair would be slightly messed up, that would be a given, but it might shine even brighter in the dim light. Heck, she might even get scared and open the door holding her gun, and he longed to see her the adorable creases on her face.
Mulder knocked twice.
There was no answer. Mulder wasn't that surprised. After all, what had he expected, that she would immediately throw the door open and wrap her arms around him?
Then he heard it. A loud, bloodcurdling scream. Terrifying.
And unmistakable.
Dana.
He panicked and his mind began to race. What was she doing in there? Was there a man with her? Was he hurting her?
Mulder couldn't just stand there and wait. Drawing his gun, he burst the door off its hinges with a strength he didn't know he had.
"Here we are," cooed Scully, shutting the door behind them and placing her keys on the table.
The man tossed his coat onto the couch then turned to regard Scully. She really was beautiful, he thought. If his employer hadn't paid him just to take the files and then kill her, he would have deflowered her right on the spot. But he needed the money, and the money was in those files.
His eyes slid to her coat, where her gun was still pocketed. Casually, he made his way over to her from behind. He playfully tugged at it, until it was completely off, then placed it on the far table.
When he returned, Scully's eyes were wild, but he could still detect fear in them. He didn't have complete control yet. She still had doubts.
"Hey, what's wrong?" he asked, his hand making its way slowly up her arm.
Her eyes closed to his touch. "Nothing," she insisted. "I'm just…nervous. I've never done something this rebellious, not even when I was a teenager."
The man smiled. "There's nothing to be afraid of," he assured her. He took a step closer, so their bodies were nearly touching. But her face was still firm. He hadn't gotten through to her.
"Look, I don't know you," he whispered, breathing lightly in her ear, "but I wish I did. You seem like an amazing woman."
Scully didn't smile. "Thank you."
He was almost there, he thought hopefully, as he leaned down to kiss her neck. He almost had her.
Scully caught her breath as the man's mouth sucked at her neck. She was calmer now, but there was still a stinging feeling in her chest, telling her to stop being so stupid.
She felt strong hands close on her waist, pulling her closer. Her dress stretched over her thighs.
The man seemed so nice, so caring. In a way Mulder sometimes was. It was freaky, actually, their resemblance. Almost…spooky.
Her eyes hesitated on a small object, protruding from the man's pocket. She squinted. It looked like some sort of box…
Her heart stopped.
It was a pack of cigarettes.
Instantly, she shoved the man away from her and reached for her gun, but it wasn't there. Horrified, she realized it was still in her coat. Her heart thumping in her chest, she jumped to retrieve it, but the man was faster. He took her coat with one hand and pinned Scully down roughly with the other.
Scully wriggled and squirmed, but soon he had both arms on her in a strong, steady grip.
Her voice was stifled. She could barely breathe. "Mmm…" she struggled.
"Where are the files?" the man demanded in a rough, harsh voice. "Where are they?"
Scully shook her head, utterly confused.
"Tell me or I'll kill you!" he growled.
Thinking fast, she nodded, as if to tell him she did know.
He groaned and removed his hand from her mouth. "Well?"
Taking advantage of the moment, Scully licked her lips and screamed as loud as she could. "Help me!"
In a second, the door swung open and Mulder appeared in the room.
The man was so shocked he loosened his grip, giving Scully just enough time to jerk free.
Mulder lunged for Scully's gun, then tossed it to her.
She caught it swiftly, then loaded it and pointed it at the man.
Mulder grabbed the man by the collar and slammed him against the wall. "Who are you?" he yelled. "Who do you work for?"
The man didn't answer.
Scully swiped the box of cigarettes from his pocket and shoved it in his face. "Why do you have this? Tell me!" she ordered. There was a moment of silence
Mulder stared at him intensely. He punched the man in the face. Blood trickled down his cheek. "Answer her!"
Suddenly, the man charged at them at full speed, knocking them to the ground. Mulder instantly got up and reached over to grasp his ankle, but it was too late.
The man was already out of the apartment, the door swinging behind him.
Mulder shot after him, but before Mulder he could get up to follow, they heard an engine start, and tires screeching as a car sped away.
Scully was so shocked at what had just occurred, she barely had the strength to lift her head.
"Are you okay, Scully?" Mulder asked, staring at her with concern.
"I'm fine," she answered bitterly, her emotions swirling with gratitude and humiliation. Nothing made sense.
First of all, how had Mulder just instantly turned up at her door to rescue the day? Had he been there before? But why?
Secondly, she was horrified at what his opinion must be of her now. How stupid it must have looked, for him to walk in on her, about to sleep with some random guy she had just met, and to be pinned pathetically to the couch, unable to protect herself? An F.B.I. agent would never be so utterly foolish. She had never been so embarrassed in her life.
Still, Mulder didn't seem to be upset with her. Then again, a man did just almost try to kill them both. She supposed that must lighten the mood a bit.
"Are you sure?" Mulder asked. "I'm calling an ambulance—"
"I'm sure, Mulder!" she snapped. "I've never been so damn sure in my life!" Tears were welling up in her eyes. Before she could stop herself, she was sobbing helplessly into her hands.
Immediately, Mulder's arms were around her. In spite of herself, she could feel her mind begin to calm. With him, she always felt safe. Even if he wasn't hers.
"God, Mulder, I'm so sorry!" she cried into his shoulder. "I'm such an idiot!"
"You're not an idiot," he said in a low tone. "I promise that."
Scully sobbed harder. How could he not be upset with her? She humiliated herself, she humiliated them both, and she let a suspect, possibly even a fugitive escape!
She pried him from her. "No, I'm okay now," she said quietly. "I'm okay, I promise."
"You're shaking," he noted worriedly. "Can you stand?" He tried to help her to her feet, but every time he let her go, her knees would collapse and she would fall again.
"I just need…to sit down," she said, sinking into the soft cushions of the couch.
"I'll get you some water." Mulder got up and made his way into the kitchen.
Mulder's knees felt weak. This wasn't at all what he had expected from a nightly excursion to Dana's house, but then again, he tended to have high hopes about that sort of thing.
First he found her in the arms of some other man, a tall man, at least two inches taller than him, he was sure of it, then he was pinning her down, threatening her, hurting her. He could have killed her, for God's sakes! And if Mulder hadn't come…
What if she had died? What if he had decided not to come and knock on her door, what if he had found her bleeding the next morning? The very notion was unbearable.
Then the way she had broken down in front of him, in a way she never had before, calling herself stupid, calling herself an idiot, crying in his arms, it was frightening beyond belief. He had never seen her so weak, so vulnerable. She had always been the strong one, the professional one, the one who didn't get their feelings involved, and here she was, reckless and helpless, lying on the couch in her apartment.
He reached for a glass, then stuck it under the tap to fill with water. He struggled to think of when it had started. Was it at the beginning of the case? Starting with the way she had looked at him in the office? Or was it when he had told her she was seeing his therapist? And how could that possibly upset her?
Mulder stepped back into the room and pushed the glass of water into her hands. She took it eagerly, gulping it quickly down to the last blissful drop.
He watched her intently as she began to calm down. It was a selfish time to think about it, but God, she looked amazing in her dress! Now that he thought about it, she had never worn a dress for him before. Not that he had anything against the silky suits that clung perfectly to her curves…
She finished drinking, her eyes not meeting his.
Occasionally he would offer to get her something, but each time she politely declined and continued to stare down into the cup.
After about ten minutes, she finally spoke.
"Thank you," she said, her voice almost irritated. Clearly, it caused her pain for him to see her like this.
Mulder couldn't resist poking some fun into the conversation. "So…now that you can talk again…do you mind me asking what that was?"
Red flashed momentarily through her creamy, marble cheeks. "Well, I could ask you how you managed to get in here so quickly. Were you waiting there all night for me to let you in?"
Mulder started to answer, but she cut him off.
"Wait, let me guess, you were possessed by some alien impulse. Or was it that Mexican goatsucker?"
Mulder laughed, glad she was acting normal again. "Not unless you can find any puncture wounds on my neck."
Dana giggled, and Mulder softened at the sound. Then her face became serious. "I don't know what I was thinking," she said quietly.
"Well, I must admit, I didn't predict you to be the kind of girl who goes out clubbing for a one night stand—"
"Hold on. What makes you think I was looking for a one night stand?"
Mulder raised his eyebrows. "What, you expect me to believe you've spent the past few months dating a serial killer?"
"He wasn't a serial killer," said Dana. "He asked me for something…some files. He kept asking me where they were."
Mulder's brow furrowed in concentration. "What kind of files?"
Dana shrugged. "I don't know, but they seemed pretty important."
"They must be, if it's worth killing a pretty girl for." The words came out before he could stop them. Panicked, Mulder continued, "So, how'd you know he wasn't just some guy at a club?"
Mulder dared not look at Dana, so he wasn't sure how she had reacted, but her voice sounded strange when she spoke. "The pack of cigarettes. It was in his pocket." She produced it from inside the folds of the couch and showed it to him.
"It was him, I'm sure of it," Mulder said bitterly, looking out the window. "How could he do this to you?" He slammed his fist hard against the table, causing Scully to cringe. "I will get him for this."
"Mulder…I need to tell you something."
He craned his neck to look at her. Scully was paralyzed. She didn't know what she was going to say exactly, or how she could possibly say it, but she felt like now was the time.
He had called her pretty…meaningless, she knew, and probably mindless as well, but it had aroused something deep inside her, and she had decided she would tell him now.
She shifted her weight, gathered her courage. "I—"
"Before you say anything," Mulder interrupted. "I just want you to know that I forgive you. We all have our weaknesses, and it's okay. I mean, as you know, I see Claudia—"
Scully's heart stopped. "Claudia?" she asked, her jaw clenched. Suddenly, she was overcome with rage. She knew she had to leave, or he had to leave, or…
"I have to go," she stammered, getting up from the couch.
Mulder frowned. "What?"
"I mean, I think you should leave. I'm not…feeling so well, all of a sudden, and I think I should be alone…"
Mulder was still sitting on the couch, his face a disgruntled portrait of confusion. "Um…okay. I wouldn't want to impose—"
"Okay, so leave," she snapped. "I mean, please leave. Right now would be best." Her head was spinning. It was getting harder to stand now, her knees were loosening…
"Are you sure you're okay?"
"Yes, I'm positive. I just want to be by myself now."
Mulder didn't seem convinced. He was gripping her arm now, which she was grateful for, because she would have surely fallen without it. "I can sleep here if you want. Just in case he comes back…"
"Mulder, you're my partner!" Scully snarled. "I don't need you to tuck me in, and I don't need you, so just get the hell out of here!"
That silenced him. Taken aback, he gathered up his things and left her apartment, shutting the door gently behind him.
Mulder stood outside her door, lost.
Everything inside him felt hurt, upset, angry. Dana had kicked him out like he meant nothing to her, and on top of that, she had referred to him as her partner.
Why had he ever indulged himself to believe that she ever thought of him as something more? Why had he even bothered to find the truth, when he hadn't even found the truth about Dana Scully?
It was hopeless. All of the things that had happened…they had nothing to do with him, or what she thought about him! He had hoped she considered him as at least a friend, someone to confide in, but apparently he was wrong.
He was all wrong.
He sauntered to his car and got in, slamming the door a bit too hard. It wasn't fair, he thought. It wasn't fair how life turned out, how you spent half a decade of your life devoting yourself to someone who could care less if you even existed!
Mulder raced onto the road, moving way over the speed limit, but not caring.
He reached his apartment in a matter of minutes. He slammed on the brakes, jerking himself to a stop.
"Hey!" shouted the man in the car behind him. "Idiot!"
Mulder exploded out of his car. He didn't care if it was towed, even if it was destroyed, or if a UFO fell out of the sky. He just needed to get home.
The door was already unlocked when he arrived. Obviously he had forgotten to secure it before he left. He closed it with a bang and collapsed on the couch.
He was nothing to her. Nothing.
And she was everything.
Mulder shut his eyes forcefully and hoped for sleep.
The man was waiting for Darren as he made his way into the office.
A cigarette already lighted in his hand, his eyes followed the hands on the clock, which seemed to be moving abnormally slow.
Suddenly, Darren burst into the office, panting. His brown hair had gone awry and he was soaked in sweat from head to toe.
He was mumbling the same two words over and over. After he had calmed himself considerably, the man could finally make out, "I'm sorry."
The man's hand tightened into a fist. "What do you mean, you're sorry? Do you have the files?"
Darren was shaking uncontrollably as he answered, "I failed. I didn't kill her. I didn't even get the files. I'm so…I'm so sorry, sir. So sorry."
The man couldn't comprehend what he was hearing. "How could you fail? Was she armed?"
"It was the other agent, the tall one. Somehow he got there before I could…"
"Mulder," the man hissed, his eyes narrowing. Smoke swirled from his mouth. For a moment, he began to pace.
Then he turned on Darren. "I trusted you to finish this," he growled, his cold, green eyes, searching Darren's face.
"I know, sir. I really tried, sir. I just didn't expect him. The man." His knees were weakening as he stumbled to a chair. "I…Oh, God, I need to sit down."
The man was glaring now, his cigarette glowing. "There will be no need for that." In a split second, a gun appeared in his hands.
Darren barely had time to open his mouth.
There was a loud crack, and then a body fell lifeless to the ground.
Mulder arrived at the office early next morning after a sleepless night.
He had hoped to be alone there, since he adjudged Dana wouldn't show up, but the second he turned the doorknob, he was met by a familiar face.
"Agent Mulder, I need to speak with you. Now." As usual, Assistant Director Skinner seemed to be in a foul mood.
Mulder sighed and followed Skinner into his office. "What is this about?" he asked, annoyed, even though he had a pretty good idea of why he had been called.
"How's that case I assigned you coming?" Skinner asked, taking a seat at his desk.
"What case?" Mulder asked. Then, catching himself, he corrected, "Oh! Right. The missing dolls. It's going very well. I've got a few general theories, you know, but…" His voice trailed off as he glimpsed Skinner's face. "To tell the truth, I haven't looked into it."
"Why not?" said Skinner, his eyebrows still raised. "Look, you're not an F.B.I. agent so you can go prancing around taking shots at people. You're here to solve cases, all right?" He got up from his desk and began to circle Mulder. "I just got a report from one of Agent Scully's neighbors. It seems she was making quite a racket up there last night. Perhaps you can explain what she was doing firing her gun at three in the morning."
Mulder swallowed hard, his temper rising. "Well, maybe you can explain something to me, sir," he hissed. "Why was there a man sent to kill Agent Scully last night?"
Skinner was confused for a moment. Then he frowned and replied, "What do you mean, sent? Was he hired?"
"I think you have a pretty good idea whose dirty work he was carrying out," Mulder answered angrily. "Now, you told us you reasoned with him. You told us you gave him the files in exchange for our safety."
"You bet your sorry ass I did," Skinner said crossly. "I risked everything to negotiate with that man."
"Then what kind of file does he want? More importantly, what file could be so important it's worth killing over?" Mulder demanded.
"Agent Mulder, in case you've forgotten, you don't ask the questions. I do. So listen carefully. There is nothing to be done. I can't help the situation, and neither can you. So I highly suggest…" Skinner leaned forward to whisper, "…that you focus on the dolls."
Mulder could feel hate tearing through the back of his throat. How could Skinner act like this? Did he care at all about Dana? She could have died! She could still die, and he was prepared to just sit back and watch it happen?
Well, not on his watch.
"Yes…sir," Mulder said through his teeth.
"Good afternoon, Agent Mulder." Skinner gave him one last intense look before shutting the door behind him.
Scully rubbed her lips together, blending her peach lipstick.
She had debated coming to work today, especially since that meant facing her partner, and apologizing for the way she had treated him the night before.
It was cruel, she knew, but she couldn't help it. She was stressed and angry, and Scully knew how much of a handful she could be when she got angry.
But today would be different. Today she would keep things under control. She would help Mulder with the missing dolls, or action figures, or whatever case they were supposed to be working on. She would show no signs of weakness. She wouldn't break.
Scully did one last check in the mirror before gathering her belongings and heading out on the road.
The office was full and bustling, as usual, with phones ringing, computers beeping, and anxious agents speed-walking down the hall, their hands filled with thick files.
She took a deep breath, brushed her hair off her shoulders and opened the door to Mulder's office.
He was crouched over a file when she entered, his glasses slightly askew on his face. His tie was blue today, with white stripes on it. He had never worn it before. Maybe it's a gift from Claudia, she thought subconsciously, but immediately blocked out the thought. It hadn't even been a minute. She could handle this.
"Hello, Mulder," she announced, staring at him expectantly.
Mulder looked up, surprised, still clutching the file rather tightly. "Scully. I didn't know you'd be coming in today."
"Of course I am," she said confidently, keeping her chin up. "Why would you think I wouldn't?"
The air was surprisingly tense between them, although she couldn't decipher why. Scully, of all people, knew they had had their share of odd and dangerous experiences and vicious fights, but this time seemed different. What had happened last night that had caused everything to change?
"I don't know," Mulder said, his eyes returning to the file. "I thought you might want to sleep in." It was one of his usual quips, but for some reason, there seemed to be no humor in it.
Scully bit her lip and took a seat beside him. "Did you find any more information on the dolls?"
Mulder scratched his neck and nodded. "Yeah. They're old, ancient to be exact. Margaret Davis claims they were used in some kind of colt ritual where they sacrificed young children." Scully noticed, to her horror, that he was slightly moving away from her as he spoke.
Scully cleared her throat and raised an eyebrow. "That's…that's not a very pleasant thing to have hanging in a museum."
"Well, Miss Davis would disagree." Mulder pointed to a picture of an older woman, maybe in her sixties or seventies, standing next to a museum exhibit.
"So, what's so unexplained about missing dolls?" Scully asked nervously. Why wasn't he meeting her eyes?
Mulder hesitated for a moment, staring at the file. Then he smiled. "Well, right before they disappeared, Miss Davis swore she saw a bright light in the sky," he said dramatically.
Scully snorted. "What, they were abducted by aliens? That's the most ridiculous thing I've ever heard. And I've heard some pretty ridiculous things."
Mulder nodded in agreement and closed the file. "Which, as I come to understand it, is exactly why Skinner assigned me this case."
"Are we going to visit the museum?" asked Scully, turning down the collar of her brown coat.
He nodded gravely. "The doll chase has begun."
Upon the arrival of the two agents, they were greeted eagerly by Miss Davis. She was a petite, plump woman with frazzled, silver hair and bright blue eyes. Her lips were smeared with red lipstick, though not very well, and they could visibly note her knees were wobbling.
"Oh, thank goodness you're here," she sighed. "I was beginning to think you would never come." She pulled out a handkerchief and began to dab at her forehead.
Scully began, "Ma'am, would you mind—"
"Just show us the dolls," Mulder interrupted.
"Oh, right this way," the old woman coughed. "It's just terrible, terrible!"
She led them to a long, glass hallway. Each panel was adorned with a different doll or stuffed creature. At the end of the hall, one panel was shattered terribly, and the hook where the doll usually hung was barren.
As they walked, Scully couldn't help but notice how Mulder's hand never fell to the small of her back. They'd been working together for years, and Mulder had always touched her there. Now, walking without his warm fingers on her spine felt oddly empty. She had never realized how reassuring such a little thing could be.
Scully composed herself and asked, "Is this where it happened?"
Miss Davis nodded. "Yes, yes, this is where."
Mulder cleared his throat. "Can you tell us exactly what occurred?"
"Y-Yes, of course. I was at the end of the hall, at about ten o'clock last night."
"What were you doing?" Mulder asked.
"C-Cleaning the dolls," Miss Davis replied. "That's what I always do, every night. This is my favorite exhibit, you see. I like to keep it clean, but sometimes it's hard. I have to use this special cleaner that can only be found in—"
"Miss Davis," Scully pressed gently. "You said you saw a bright light?"
"Oh, yes," the old woman said, her eyes growing distant. "It was the light that took her."
"Ma'am, when did you see this light?"
"I told you, I was cleaning the dolls, when I heard it. A loud, rumbling noise. Then, I saw a blinding, rushing wave of luminescence. I was rooted to the spot. I couldn't see anything, except for profiles."
"Profiles of whom? A man?" Scully pried. "A woman?"
Miss Davis shook her head. "No. Whatever they were…they weren't human."
Scully closed her eyes, annoyed. This hadn't been the first time they'd come in contact with some crazy lady. And it was always the same. The loud noise, the figures, sometimes green, sometimes gray, and the light, always the bright light. She hated when Skinner did this to them. Mulder was right, it was a goose chase. They wouldn't get anywhere…
"…when I took my hands away, the dolls were gone."
"Oh, really?" Scully said, sighing. "Well, thank you for talking to us, Miss Davis. We promise, we'll do our best to restore your dolls."
Miss Davis nodded, and hurried away, blowing into her handkerchief.
Scully watched her go, then turned to Mulder. "What do you make of that nonsense?" she asked, but Mulder seemed to be otherwise occupied.
He was crouching down, examining the exhibit.
"Mulder, just what do you expect to find? It's already been looked over for fingerprints."
Mulder ignored her, and slowly reached his hand down to touch the hook. The second his fingers made contact, he winced.
Scully jumped. "Mulder! What happened?"
"It's still hot," he murmured.
She crouched down beside him. "So? What does that mean? It's insulated in here."
Mulder looked down at the burn marks on his hand. "It's hot, Scully," he said, louder now. He jumped up and raced after Miss Davis.
Scully groaned, all alone now. "Damn dolls," she muttered, before gathering her coat and taking off after him.
Mulder could hear Dana's voice behind him, and her feet pattering on the floor. He quickened his pace.
He had persuaded himself she wouldn't show up today. That was the main reason he decided to come to work in the first place. But not only was she here, she was trying to pretend like nothing had ever happened!
He knew he couldn't be mad at her for last night. After all, she wasn't wrong, he had just misjudged the situation. He had to admit Dana had a point. He wasn't acting very "partner-ly." Whatever that meant.
"Mulder, wait up!"
So why was he keeping his lead from her? Because she would think it was ridiculous? Because she would think he was stupid? Well, there was nothing out of the usual there.
Dana finally caught up to him. She was panting, and her red hair fell in mismatched waves. "God, Mulder. What is going on?"
"I don't know," he said truthfully. He wasn't lying. He didn't know anything for sure yet, so why share his opinion with her?
"Well, you could have waited for me," she said angrily. "You didn't have to run off like I wasn't there."
He didn't answer, just kept facing forward, away from her.
"Mulder, what's going on here? Who are you looking for, anyway?"
"Miss Davis," he replied calmly, not meeting her eyes.
"Mulder, we already questioned her. The woman's insane! I mean, come on. A bright light? A loud noise? Aliens abducting ancient dolls? You can't possibly believe any of that."
"A lot of people are insane, Scully," he said, finally looking her straight in the eye. Her penetrating blue eyes stared back at him. I'm insane, he thought, for thinking what we had was something more than this. "That woman's not one of them."
He strode away quickly, leaving her trotting to catch up.
Mulder searched the halls for Miss Davis, but she was no where to be found. "Excuse me," he asked a tall, blonde police officer, flashing his F.B.I. badge. "I'm looking for the curator of this museum. Do you know where she is?"
The man nodded blankly. "No, sir," he said in a thick Southern accent. "But she definitely left a few minutes ago. Can I help you?"
"No, thank you," Dana said before he could reply.
Mulder rolled his eyes and pushed the double doors open.
"God, Mulder, where are we going now?"
Those last words struck a nerve. Why did she have to be so irascible? He turned on his heel and glared at her. "I'm going to solve this case," he snapped, "but if you have somewhere more important to be, by all means, hop to it. No one's stopping you."
Dana recoiled, her face becoming stubborn. "Sure. Fine. Whatever," she retorted.
He started to walk away, her voice still calling behind him.
"Go and question Miss Davis again, see if I care!" she yelled. "I'm going to go employ my time in something a bit more useful."
Mulder whirled around to face her. "What, like sleeping with an assassin?"
As soon as he said it, he wished he could take it back. Dana's eyes were flaming. Her mouth moved frantically, but her words seemed to be stuck in her throat. Mulder could see her inhale, before forcing out five, weak words, "See you later, Agent Mulder."
Walter Skinner paced his desk anxiously, massaging his temples. How had he gotten himself into such a charade? First the files, now this, all because Agent Mulder couldn't keep his damn eyes to himself!
Skinner remembered the horror, the anger in Mulder's eyes when he been told to move on. Sure, Mulder pretended he cared for Scully, but sticking his nose in the truth wasn't going to keep her any safer!
And that was all Skinner wanted, for her to be safe. What good was the truth or the answers if you weren't alive to see them? Mulder's vision was so clouded and so biased, even if both agents couldn't see it, and though it may give him the strength to be a brave man, in time, all it did was sink them into deeper trouble.
And Skinner, once again, would have to pull them out.
He checked his watch. He was late. Sighing, he got up to open the door, but before he could make a move, there was a loud knock.
"Come in," Skinner groaned, sitting back down at his desk.
"Good afternoon, Mr. Skinner," said a voice. "You called me here."
Skinner wrinkled his nose as a tendril of smoke seeped into his nostrils. He looked up slowly, keeping his expression blank. "Yes, I did," he confirmed calmly.
The Smoking Man crossed the room slowly, inhaling deeply.
"I thought we had a deal," Skinner growled, getting to his feet.
The man crushed his cigarette and pulled out another one from a box of Morley's in his pocket. "I told you," he said, tipping it to his lighter, "I don't make deals."
"And I told you," snapped Skinner, "it's over. There is no security. The files are mine now."
The Smoking Man didn't speak, just moved his cigarette to his other hand.
Skinner's anger was flaring. "There's no use in killing Agent Scully. She doesn't have it. Neither of them do."
"You think I don't know that?" the other man hissed. "I don't play the game, Mr. Skinner. I run it. Which means I also run you."
Skinner smiled slightly. "You think you can scare me."
"I don't think I can scare you," Smoking Man said, the wrinkles on his face tightening. "I think I can break you." His face fell sullen again, and he turned and left the room in one, swift move.
Skinner watched him go, his heart racing. What did that mean, break you? Truth was, he knew exactly what he meant. He was going after Scully. And Skinner knew that if the Smoking Man killed her, he could not survive.
The body cannot live without the heart.
Scully walked slowly across the street, her heart still pumping from her last conversation with Mulder. Why had he been so rude to her? What had she done? She reviewed their experiences last night, trying to pick out what could have caused him to act this way.
And then she remembered. Mulder, you're my partner! I don't need you to tuck me in, and I don't need you… Her words replayed endlessly in her head.
God, how could she be so rude? He had every right to be mad at her after that, and she hadn't even given it a second thought!
She picked up her phone and dialed his number. Pick up, she thought. Mulder, please pick up. It rang out.
Scully stuffed the phone back in her pocket, frustrated. Where had he gone?
"Excuse me, Agent Scully," said a voice behind her.
Scully turned around to find the blonde, Southern officer they had crossed paths with earlier. "Is there a problem?" she asked, bored.
"Do you know where your partner is?"
Scully's face changed. "No. Why? Is there something wrong with him?"
"No, ma'am," the officer replied. "They've just discovered something at the crime scene."
"What's that?"
He shifted his weight uncomfortably. "I think you'd better take a look."
Scully followed him wordlessly, her thoughts swimming. She pushed through the crowd near the exhibit and kneeled down. "What am I looking for?" she said, searching the glass. Nothing seemed to be out of the usual. Then again, Scully wasn't always the one to pick out the unusual.
"Behind the stand." The officer gestured to the back, where long, black stains were clearly visible. "Do you know what that is?"
Scully's eyes widened as she took in the new information. "It looks like the remnants of smoke."
"What kind of smoke?"
"From some sort of contained fire, like a lighter, or a cigar..." Her voice trailed off. She jerked to her feet and started to run from the exhibit.
"Where are you going?" the officer called.
"It's Agent Mulder," she said urgently. "I think he's in danger."
Mulder wandered the narrow streets, his black shoes making no sound on the pavement. He felt angry and guilty and pleased all at the same time, just because of one woman.
Why couldn't he figure her out?
He needed to see Claudia again, and soon. Right after this case. She could tell him what to do. There was no way he could do it on his own.
He wanted to take back everything he said to her, and replace it with the truth. But what did the truth matter, now that he knew she didn't feel the same way?
Mulder picked up the pace, peering down each street absentmindedly while his heart raced with unanswered questions.
In her apartment, what had Dana been trying to say? Mulder…I need to tell you something. What? That he was acting immaturely? But it had seemed like something more, something important.
Maybe she had figured it out.
He stopped in his tracks. That must have been it. Someone told her, maybe even his own therapist. That explained her odd behavior around him in the office. She knew, and she was clearly not too happy about it.
He was so preoccupied that he nearly missed Miss Davis strolling down the street.
"Hey!" he yelled, running to her. "Miss Davis!"
The old woman turned around slowly, then smiled sweetly at him. "Oh. Agent Mulder. Have you figured out where my dolls have gone to?"
"Not exactly," Mulder answered. "I'd like to ask you a few more questions, if that's all right."
Miss Davis' face looked alarmed for a moment, but she recovered the next second. "Yes, well…that's fine, I suppose. Would you mind if we stepped into that café, though? I haven't had my breakfast, and—"
"That's fine," he interrupted. "Anything you want."