Timeline: The Red and the Black 5x14
Category: Post-episode
"The Knicks are playing tonight and I'm missing it," Mulder said, stirring next to her in the driver's seat of their Bureau issue grey Taurus.
"They won."
He turned in his seat and blinked quickly. He looked bemused.
"The game ended an hour ago. The radio jock gave game scores a few minutes ago," she explained, leaning forward to turn off the quiet hum of the radio.
"What time is it?" he asked rubbing his eyes.
"Eleven," she said tapping on the digital clock display with her index finger.
Mulder squinted at the green digits.
"Did I fall asleep?"
"A little," she conceded.
"Damn, sorry."
"S'okay."
Her partner wasn't the best sleeper. She didn't mind sitting quietly in the car while he caught a few winks. Besides, he looked sort of sweet awkwardly positioned in his seat, too big for the space, and his features calmly composed in rest. It was strange to think that she was probably the only one who ever saw him like that anymore.
"For a second there I thought maybe you were psychic."
"No, just awake," she said, looking back out the window into the dark of the night.
"I'd like that."
"What?" she asked still looking out the window.
"If you were psychic."
Scully gave a little snort. "No, you wouldn't."
"Yes, I would. You'd be my own little diminutive X-file. Proof in person."
"I'd know ahead of time all of your terrible jokes," she said, turning back to face him.
He shrugged. "What was the score?"
"I don't remember."
"Damn," he repeated as he struggled to stretch his legs without banging into the steering wheel column. "You're not psychic and you aren't a very good listener."
"This is a waste of time," Scully complained.
They'd been sitting outside of this house in Maryland for what seemed like forever. Other than seeing the couple come home from work and the husband cut the lawn, they had observed little else. The houses' lights were off. They were probably sleeping too.
"What gave it away for you?" Mulder asked sarcastically.
"Wouldn't you rather be at home? I would."
Interesting question. Would he rather not be in this car for eight more hours? Yes. Would he rather be at home in his apartment sprawled on his couch alone for the umpteenth time? Not exactly. He couldn't exactly tell her that he enjoyed being with her—even in the car on a bogus assignment. She'd get all flustered and tight-lipped if he said that. He was just glad she was still with him.
"Nothing is going to happen tonight…or ever from the looks of it," Scully continued to grumble.
"No, it doesn't seem like The Munsters are going to give us anything to go on."
"The Munsters?"
"Too young for a Munsters' reference, Scully?"
"I'd like to say so, but I just meant the comparison seems off to me."
Mulder dug in his pockets, trying to find any remaining sunflower seeds.
"There's nothing outwardly strange about this family," Scully continued.
"No, not outwardly. No one is a Frankenstein monster or suffering from a wicked widow's peak. Maybe the Brady Bunch is a better comparison."
He located one lone seed and popped it in between his front teeth, cracking it with obvious satisfaction.
"You've lost me."
"I thought that would be more your era…anyway, there was something spooky about that family. Too much happiness for a blended family. How many blended families do you know that sing and dance and smile that much?"
"I don't know anyone who smiles that much," Scully conceded.
"My point exactly. Spooky."
"So…they look too normal? Do you just mistrust normality in general now, Mulder?"
"I'm just saying. We should be ready to act if they start singing."
"We'll be waiting a long time for that, I think," Scully said, as she glanced at the digital clock once more.
"Maybe they'll go to the grocery store tomorrow morning and we can follow them," Mulder said in exacerbation as he cracked his neck.
He was going to pay for his cat nap with a middle-aged cramp in his neck from the awkward position he must have been in.
"We've been here too long," Scully agreed, leaning her head against the cool of the passenger side window. "So long that we're discussing bad TV shows."
Mulder decided to let the critique of The Munsters pass by without comment.
"When you get too close to the truth, you get handed a shit assignment like this one," Mulder said, glancing over at her.
He envied her smaller stature when they were stuck on details like this. She looked bored, but otherwise as cool as a cucumber sitting in the velour bucket seat. Her hair was a little mussed, but that only added to her appeal. He wouldn't mind reaching over and helping her mess it up a bit more.
"You think that's what this is about? We've been sent to watch this couple to…keep us out of trouble?"
No aliens. No men in black. Just good old fashioned misdirection.
"You think the Hinckley family poses any real threat to this neighborhood…let alone this country?" Mulder asked.
Well, it didn't look like they did. And the information they'd been given at the outset of the case had seemed flimsy to say the least. But Scully had learned one thing in her time on the X-files—not everything is as it seems. The Hinckleys could potentially be the dangerous criminals the FBI claimed them to be.
Or they could be sitting here watching the Bradys.
Scully sat upright. "Let's get some coffee."
"Your lack of protocol surprises me. You want to abandon our stakeout assignment?"
"Okay, fine," Scully said resignedly.
Mulder grasped the key in the ignition turning it. "Surprised and elated," he elaborated with a broad smile.
Scully couldn't help but give an inner cheer. She just wanted to get off this street—if only for a little while.
"Think anything will be open at this hour?" she asked.
Mulder turned right at the end of the street, making for the highway.
"I noticed a gas station at the last exit. That's all were going to get in this neck of the woods at this hour."
"Gas station coffee?"
"Haven't you heard QuikTrip's ads about their gourmet coffee?"
Yes: cappuccino. The announcer spoke in the strange fake accent about the wonders of their coffee. Cappuccino. 100 percent Arabica beans—whatever that was supposed to mean to her about quality. But it actually didn't sound so bad.
"You saw a QT?"
"No."
"Then you just got me all excited for nothing."
"I'm sorry. Do I do that to you a lot?" he asked seductively.
Scully ignored him. If she ignored him, he might go away. It hadn't worked yet, but it was worth a try.
"So, just gas station coffee," she said dejectedly as she pulled down the visor and flipped open the vanity mirror.
She evaluated herself quickly. Her hair was all out of place. 'What a fright.' Mulder probably was amused by her unusual lack of polish. She flipped the mirror closed—there was nothing she could do about her appearance at the moment and she'd rather not stare at herself knowing that.
"How about gas station slurpees?" Mulder asked cheerfully.
"A slurpee?"
"God's gift to man. And my treat," he said, merging into the light traffic.
"I think you're overrating slurpees, Mulder."
"On the contrary: I'm not rating them highly enough."
"I haven't had a slurpee since high school," Scully considered.
"Dana Scully, high school coed," Mulder said with a waggle of his eyebrows.
Scully could see the glowing red and yellow gas station sign above the highway, promising stale coffee or slurpees.
"I wasn't that exciting. Trust me," she said.
If she could go back and do high school over, maybe she would be a little wilder. A little more like Melissa, who'd always seemed to be enjoying herself. But, who wanted to do high school over?
"Maybe you didn't think so, but I…"
"Mulder, just stop," she cut him off from whatever innuendo he was about to make and held up her hand so as to emphasize her command. "I don't think you need the sugar content of a slurpee," she said, chastising him for his latest string of remarks.
Mulder turned on the indicator and took the exit ramp towards the gas station.
"But I fell asleep. Zonked out on you."
"You're not so bad asleep."
Mulder could think of half a dozen smartass responses to her little quip, but he held his tongue. They came to a stop in front of the moto mart and Mulder put on the parking break.
"Come on. It'll turn your mouth a funny color: blue, red, green. Your choice. That will be the X-file for the evening."
Scully cracked a half smile.
"Actually, I wouldn't mind seeing your mouth blue, Mulder."
"Blue it is," he said pulling on the door handle.
And if it made her smile, he'd be willing to go blue more often.