Disclaimer: I own neither B&tB nor X-Files.
A/N: Anything surrounded by represents Vincent or Catherine's own feelings sent through the Bond.
Wednesday, February 22, 1995
Scully scowled as she heard the knock on the connector door. She put down the packet of coffee she had been preparing to empty into the dripper and turned to face the connector, bracing herself for the inevitable lewd comment Mulder would make about catching her in her bathrobe.
"Come in," she said, not even trying to sound hospitable.
"Look what I found shoved under my door, Scully," Mulder said, brandishing a newspaper clipping.
Good morning to you, too, Scully thought, walking over.
"What is it, Mulder?" she said.
"See for yourself," he said, handing her the clipping.
It was from five years ago, cut out of a newspaper reassuringly named The National Star Confidential. "Grandma Sees Monster Captured," read the lurid headline.
"Please tell me your source also gave you the article about Bigfoot fathering children with aliens. I heard about that article five years ago and was devastated to miss it," Scully said.
"Aw, c'mon, Scully," Mulder said. "You got that break in the Flukeman case because of that tip my informant slipped you."
"We already got a break in this case, Mulder," Scully said. "In fact, we've already solved the case."
"But our informant doesn't know that," Mulder said.
"And that's supposed to impress me?" Scully said. "Maybe he's losing his touch."
"Scully!" Mulder hissed, nervously looking around the room. "You never know when a room we're staying in might be bugged," he whispered.
"Then they already heard me say we solved the case, and the damage is already done," Scully said.
"Oh, Scully!" Mulder said with a fake laugh. "You're such a kidder. You know what we need? A run in Central Park."
"You know what I need, Mulder?" Scully said. "Coffee."
"I think we really need to take a run in Central Park," Mulder said, winking significantly and gesturing toward Scully's front door.
"Why, yes, Mulder," Scully said, enunciating every word. "I would love to go running in Central Park with you. Thank you for asking me at this optimum time after showering but before coffee. I've been waiting for you to ask me to jog with you all morning, and was bitterly disappointed when you failed to do so before I showered. Now that you have asked me, I will happily put on my less-than-professional workout clothes and will jog with you to Central Park so we can get a literal running start on solving this case we haven't yet solved."
"Thank you for your gracious acceptance, Scully," Mulder said. "I'll buy you a cup of coffee after we're done."
"Thank you, Mulder," Scully said.
"I still think you're wrong about my…friend," Mulder said. "Just because he might have miscalculated this time doesn't mean he won't come through for us again."
"I want to believe, Mulder," Scully said.
Mulder and Scully stared at one another for a few moments, Scully at last giving up on his ability to take a nonverbal hint.
"Mulder?" Scully said, hands on her hips.
"Yes, Scully?" he said, seeming genuinely puzzled.
"Go!" Scully said, gesturing at her attire.
Mulder slowly looked her up and down, a grin as lurid as the Confidential headline spreading across his face. He walked out the connector door, shutting it behind him.
Scully thought she heard Mulder mutter something about not losing his touch, but she couldn't be sure whether he was talking about his informant or himself. Sighing, she opened a dresser drawer and pulled out her jogging clothes. He's going to buy me a large, expensive cup of coffee.
XXX
"He claims he and his pals found a ton of dough in their buddies' stuff," Detective John Doggett said, sitting on the other side of Joe Maxwell's desk.
"How classy of them to honor their friends' memories by blowin' their money on drugs and booze," Joe said, skimming Doggett's report.
"That would explain why they thought attackin' Ms. Chandler before dark in a public place was a good idea," Doggett said.
"I'm glad you showed up when you did," Joe said. "Radcliffe and I have been friends for a long time."
"I was in the right place at the right time," Doggett said.
I often seem to be in the right place at the right time to help strangers, but never people I love, Doggett thought.
"Any ideas about who hired the punks?" Joe asked.
"Nothin'," Doggett said. "Nothin' but dead ends and brick walls. I'll keep lookin', though. Gotta be someone behind it all. Punks don't normally do business this way. I don't want anyone else to hurt Ms. Chandler."
Doggett felt like Maxwell was sizing him up for some reason, so he kept his gaze steady. He had nothing to hide, nothing to fear. What could anyone take away from him that hadn't already been taken away?
"Detective Doggett," Joe said. "In a few minutes, several men are going to walk through that door because they want to help protect Cathy. They understand I'm going to have to leave out a lot of details and that they may never get explanations for some of what they see. Cathy is in more danger than you could ever understand; I can't say any more unless you promise complete confidentiality."
"What's this all about, sir?" Doggett asked.
"It's about saving Cathy's life," Joe said. "It's about saving her son and loved ones. What we're going to do will be dangerous, and most of my men won't know why they're doing it beyond what I can tell them. For some reason, Radcliffe seems to have gotten under your skin. I can understand; Radcliffe's accused me of being overprotective a few times. Right now, she needs good men she can count on, good men who can keep a secret. If you're interested, I'd like you to stay for this meeting."
Doggett weighed Maxwell's words. Something about Ms. Chandler got to him; perhaps it was the way those green eyes went soft when she talked about her son. Or maybe it had something to do with the way she had held that gun on him in that second when she hadn't known whose side he was on.
Doggett didn't like doing things without good reason; he would have to tell Maxwell that he couldn't proceed unless Maxwell could at least guarantee that what they were doing was legit. What did Maxwell mean when he said that Doggett might see something questionable? That meant a lot coming from someone who had worked in New York City law enforcement as long as Maxwell had.
Danger meant nothing to Doggett. He didn't have a death wish, but he didn't have a life wish, either. The best part of his life died when he stood over Luke's body in that field. His son had already left him, and his wife's love had followed soon after. If he had to give up his life for the life of Catherine, for her son, so be it.
"Can you at least tell me that what we're doin' is on the level?" Doggett asked.
"We're going to be bending the rules, but hopefully, nobody will get hurt. I know your reputation, John," Joe said, pinning Doggett with his eyes. "Your word will be good enough for me. Do you promise you will do everything you can to protect Catherine Chandler without asking questions I can't answer?"
Doggett considered walking away; he didn't like uncertainty and secrecy. He was a straightforward guy, after all. Maybe a change of pace will do me good, he thought. With a shock, he realized he was looking forward to whatever he was about to do to protect Ms. Chandler. He was even more shocked to realize he was contemplating the previously unthinkable: leaving the City, one way or another. And if I don't survive…
"I promise," Doggett said.
XXX
"Better?" Mouse's voice asked through the speaker as the camera angle on the computer screen shifted slightly.
"Better than better," Langly said.
"Better than best," Frohike agreed.
Vincent stood on the second floor of Father's study, watching people bustle in and out in preparation for later that night.
"I'm planning a victory celebration in the Great Hall that will make Winterfest look like a brown bag special," William said, delivering Father's pot of Earl Grey.
"I just hope everyone will be in attendance," Father said, pretending to focus on the chess board.
"Don't worry, Father," Mary said, pretending to play chess with Father. "Vincent and Catherine always prevail, even against great odds."
Vincent smiled at that; it was true. Even if it wasn't true this time, he would at least make sure Catherine got away safely.
"Joe got the masks," Pascal said, darting into the room. "Any return message?"
"Just a 'thank you' and confirmation," Father said.
"Will do," Pascal said, dashing back to his pipes.
"Mouse," Jamie said into the speaker, "I need those new crossbow bolts you were making for me."
"Right!" Mouse said, scrabbling down from his precarious perch where he had been helping the Gunmen rig up a surveillance camera. "Back in a flash!"
"We've got cameras on the ship, the tunnel, and the docks. We can't plan for every contingency, but we can at least know what happens when something goes wrong," Byers said.
"I suppose it's time to construct the…incendiary device," Father said.
"I have a feeling we'll have plenty of assistance," Langly said.
Vincent was inclined to agree since several Tunnels residents had experience with explosives. As much as it scared Vincent to contemplate, he knew Mouse might be helpful as well. He had blasted Vincent and Father out of that cave-in and had disarmed Paracelsus' bomb. Perhaps the others could curtail Mouse's exuberance.
"We've widened the dockside passages and shored them up," Kanin said, reporting in with a group of workers. "The way is clear; Vincent should have no trouble."
"'Course Daddy won't have any trouble," Jacob said, running into the study. "Daddy never has any trouble. He can do anything!"
Father half-heartedly admonished Jacob about running in the study, but smiled when the boy carefully climbed into his lap.
"You're right, Jacob," Father said softly, holding his grandson in his arms. "Vincent will be fine."
Vincent was so wrapped up in the scene that he almost failed to notice Catherine trying to sneak up behind him. He dampened the Bond in an attempt to fool her, but he quickly sensed that Catherine felt his intentions. A moment later, her arms wrapped around him from behind.
He turned around and gathered her close, savoring the feel of her, savoring this moment in time. Reluctantly, he loosened his hold on Catherine and they turned around, his arms clasping her as she leaned back into his chest. They watched the activity below, wishing they could do something now but knowing they would soon be doing their fair share.
"Look at them, Catherine," Vincent whispered. "All of them are working so hard to help us."
"They're our family, Vincent," Catherine said. What do you expect?"
Family
Vincent sent through the Bond, combining numerous emotions into a bundle.
Family
Catherine sent, subtly altering and adding a few emotions of her own.
Hand in hand, they headed down the wrought iron spiral staircase and joined Father and their son.