Setting: Post-Season 9 (about 6 years later), Pre-IWTB
Spoilers: William, possibly The Truth, Provenance, Providence,
The Weatherman
Chapter One
Part 1.
Blue eyes stared down at the weapon before her—a nine-millimeter pistol still in its case. She picked it up and studied it, running one hand down the smooth barrel. Forcefully, she screwed the silencer onto the end of the gun, and stuck it in her holster, which was hidden behind her floor-length black leather coat. Studying the photo of her target, she prepared to move in for the kill.
She knew the door would be open, and that the hunted man was asleep in his bed by now, and so there was no need to kick the door in or sneak in through a window. Instead, she walked boldly in and marched upstairs to the bedroom, gun drawn and held up close to her head, for easy aiming in the near future. But she knew she would not wordlessly shoot right away, while he slept. No, that was too easy a death for this man. He needed to know why he was dying, and he needed to suffer.
Part 2.
Mulder awoke to a rather pushy knocking at the door. He rubbed his eyes while glancing at the clock—3:22 a.m. Surely nobody benevolent could be coming to visit at this hour. As the knocks got louder, he threw on a pair of sweatpants over his boxers and dug around in the dresser for the gun he had not used in years. The knocking became more and more insistent the longer he took.
Peeking through the keyhole, he was surprised to see a face he had not expected to see again—and surely not under these circumstances. Now he knew it could only be bad news. He put down the gun and opened the door for Walter Skinner.
Not sure whether to hug him or shake his hand, Mulder chose a middle ground—a partial hug with hand extended, and said, sleep still apparent in his voice, "Sir, what are you doing here?"
"Sorry to wake you, Mulder. Can I come in?"
Mulder stepped back to let the man enter the house he shared with Scully. "It's been…years…I don't know how long, Sir. Did I win the lottery or something?"
Skinner cracked a smile for a second but did not snicker. "I'm afraid it's bad news, Mulder. Do you know where Scully is?"
Confused, Mulder looked around as if she was supposed to be there, but answered, "Yeah, at a convention. Why?"
Skinner's eyes were too serious for Mulder. "Wrong," he said.
"What do you mean?" Mulder was beginning to feel panicked. "Where is she? Is she okay?" His mind began to run through the next steps—putting on clothes, packing a bag if needed, rushing in his car to her aid…
"She's fine." The silence over the next few seconds was unbearable. "She's in jail, Mulder."
Confusion set in quickly. "Jail? Why?"
The next words Skinner uttered almost knocked Mulder to the floor. "She killed an unarmed man, in cold blood."
Author's comments: This one is a big change of pace for me. All stories start with the question: What if? This one began with a question in my mind: What could cause Scully to murder someone? She did it in Orison, but she was also fighting for her life right before she shot him. Would she really hunt someone down and kill them? If so, what would cause her to do it? The answers are just ahead.