Chapter Fourteen: Firelight
Title: XII
Category: Episodic/MSR
Rating: M (you'll understand why)
Summary: Romanticizing his victims, a brutal murderer leaves behind symbols of love…but who is his true, intended target and what lengths will he go to get her to notice?
Post "Agua Mala" (Season 6 with mentions of "Rain King", "Two Fathers", and "One Son" Briefly and only for context purposes)
Note: Use of puns and witty comebacks were both necessary and wanted throughout this process – practicing balance between the extremes and humor has given a much-needed lift to the truly dark places that have been explored in the most recent chapters (and those dark places will be continuing for a bit so bear with me). Please enjoy.
**Trigger Warning** The first portion of this chapter was difficult for me to write let alone read back – please note that there are graphic descriptions of knife cuts and torture scenes. It may be difficult to read, proceed with caution, apologies to anyone who is affected negatively.
Disclaimer: Mulder, Scully, Skinner, and Fowley belong respectively to Chris Carter, FOX Productions, and TenThirteen Productions. All other characters are original and any likeness or named similarities to any real-life persons are purely coincidental.
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Shortly After Dark
Lakeview Drive (Lake Barcroft)
Falls Church, VA
This was meant to break Jeanette and she knew deep down, in the pit of her stomach, that this was going to be more difficult than any personal suffering she could possibly endure alone. She could hear him yelling at the unknown female followed by what sounded like hollow cries for help, then that godforsaken song, in what felt like, a perpetual loop. That song would give her nightmares for the rest of her life and she knew that no matter what she was doing or where she was, it would be a constant reminder of this—if she managed to survive it. The sad fact was cemented that now someone else would experience the hell that he had inflicted on several others and she had no way of putting a stop to it. She was completely at his mercy, or rather, his discretion, whether she lived or died. Jeanette's cough had softly subsided from the medicine that Miles had given to her, the drowsiness acting like a tug-of-war with her need to be aware of the plight of the woman she hadn't even seen yet. The two actions were not mutually exclusive of each other, as she was harshly discovering—allowing her body to gather the last of its strength and keeping her wits about her enough to be aware of everything. The fire, despite being slightly reduced in size, was still putting out a great deal of radiating heat and flickering light while the weather outside seemed to be worsening.
She could no longer hear the heaviness of the rain falling but, instead, the banging of branches against the siding, wind howling through the older crevices of the house, and the occasional thunder clap. She fully expected a December snow to be developing outside; blizzardlike but still not nearly as terrifying as what she had already experienced within the four walls of the house. The sound outside was nature's stunning musical performance to clash against the living nightmare inside of the house. She glanced at the ceiling where an old wet spot had been and contemplated it, secretly hoping that the roof would once again fail and send it caving in, crushing her until breath could no longer enter or leave her lips. The thought was morbid but she'd rather die via accident than by anything Miles had concocted for her.
It was the worst mental game if "would you rather" that she could have ever fathomed.
She adjusted her position again, gently moving her ankles across each other, causing a gentle but striking clanging together of the chain like a drum beat under the covers. She moved her arms and the same effect, only with slightly more echo, would happen between the chains and against the bed frame. She couldn't remember the last time that she had gotten sick this quickly but she could feel it running through her as her muscle groups were sore in ways that weren't just from the awkward position she had been chained in or the attempt at running away. The chill in the air, the hours in the basement, and the fact that she hadn't been sleeping well for weeks were a perfect cocktail that could only spell disaster—and loss of blood wasn't helping her out any. She held the blankets closer to her chest as a chill dotted down her back and settled against her tailbone, reminding her again of the sore spot from being slammed against a wall. She inhaled then exhaled softly and reached for that glass of water that Miles had intentionally left for her, reluctantly indulging in the cold liquid, the guilt of hearing the sound of "Somebody Else" nearly on loop and infrequent, scattered screams festering within her like a brewing plague. It was eating at her last nerve and was chipping away at her soul.
"Dammit," She nearly spilled the remainder of the water as she slammed the cup back down onto the side table, the frustration teeming as her adrenaline spiked.
Her eyes kept falling back on the firelight as it slowly flickered and moved, spiraling and snaking in an upward motion like a tribal dance without sound, without a drum beat. It was enough to pull her focus and allow the medicine to do its job as she started to fade out, eyes slowly blinking with each breath she took. While her body desperately wanted to give in and allow sleep to take over, her mind wanted nothing more than to realize this had been nothing more than a terrible nightmare. Some things just were not meant to be as the blood drying on her arms and across her chest reminded her as she felt a section of dried blood pinch at her skin just enough to tingle and irritate. Her fingers, toes, and joints were on fire despite the higher level of comfort that she had been placed into, reminding her that not all of her sore spots were simple to ignore or will away. She groaned quietly as she glanced down at her hands long enough to see her cockeyed thumb still awkwardly aimed in the wrong direction, dislocated. She wiggled all of her fingers again and gritted her teeth, focusing on the thumb but it refused to move more than a quarter of an inch and only from a nerve twitch across the top part where her skin had become swollen and bruised. She took a deep breath and let her hands go limp again, inhaling the pain, resisting the distinct want to cry. She wanted her own bed, the dysfunctional comfort of hearing the word "mommy" in rapid succession along with the refusal of that sweet, little face refusing to go to bed for the umpteenth time.
Anything but this.
The internal battle to stay awake was so intense that Jeanette had not fully took notice that the song and screams had gone quiet below her, leaving only the sounds of the storm once again in the background. Just as she was starting to drift off to sleep from the fever reducer and cough suppressant in her system, the door was thrown open by a sweaty, dirty, blood-stained Miles. Jeanette's eyes darted open and she instinctively scooted toward the wall as her eyes caught sight of the blood spatter across his shirt. He looked crazed and distant but determined as he stared her down before approaching, carrying another set of leg and wrist chains. The discomfort in her stomach started to send everything into a knot as he threw off the blankets and switched out the shackles on her wrists and ankles for the set in his hands. The replacement pair was considerably tighter and reminded her of prison transport restraints without the belly lead.
"Have you been listening carefully, Dee?" His voice was different, deeper than it was earlier and carried a resonance that echoed in her ears.
The words would not leave her lips, but he might not have let her say much as he yanked on the chains around her wrists and dragged her toward the door. The motion caught her completely unaware and sent her to the floor, skidding across the carpet via her knees. The burn was immediate as she felt both of her shins blistering, her knee caps instantly bloody, and any grace that she possessed had gone by the wayside. He violently pulled her to her feet and shoved her forward, through the doorway, and took her toward the inevitable end that pointed straight into the basement level. She knew almost immediately what was in store for her and the panic building within her was making it incredibly difficult to gather her wits. He shoved her forward and locked the door from the inside of the basement, that damp and bloody odor hitting her nostrils like a ton of bricks as she teetered at the top of the first step.
The silence within the space was quickly replaced with the sounds of gentle sobbing coming from the very same corner that she had once occupied. Everything had come full circle and she was about to stare terror in the outside—from the helpless bystander's perspective. Jeanette didn't want to look down into the corner that rested at the opposite side of the bottom of the stairs, but she couldn't help but glance there as the light flickered and drew her attention to that space like a moth to an open flame. She could see the messy bun of long, deep red locks atop the woman's head and the unmistakable yet pale blue of her eyes as she was already staring up in their direction. Jeanette was petrified after the lock on the door was properly secured; the heavy clicking into place of the metal fixtures as they rubbed against each other and stopped suddenly only escalating her nerves. Jeanette's overwhelming fear was quickly replaced by nausea as Miles firmly pressed himself against her back, his left-hand fingers laced through her hair tightly, lips at her ear, and right-hand locked around her waist, gripping the material of her clothes right along the curve of her belly. His breath was hot against her skin and had sent an involuntary spasm down her back that shot up the goosebumps all over her skin, uncomfortably contorting the cuts down her arms and across her chest, electrifying them. She didn't want to feel anything but everything he was doing was in direct opposition to quelling a bodily response.
"Move—or I'll make you move," He growled into her ear and tugged on her hair a little harder than necessary.
She groped at the stairs with the tips of her toes until she found the edge and carefully stepped down. The motion felt like it had when she was a toddler taking precarious steps down a flight of stairs on her own without the assistance of a parent for the first time, wobbly and cautious at best. She glanced at the girl again, who was now fully aware of her presence just as much as his as the expression on her face seemed to look even more lost than it had when he first shoved her into the entryway. She was older but not by much and, by the state of her clothing, had put up quite the fight in her transition here. She had rips down the front of her jeans and t-shirt, both from slashes and the struggle that resulted in her predicament and a manual rip at her shoulder where Miles had pulled the material apart with his hands, exposing the modest looking sports bra underneath. She was athletically built, considerably moreso than Jeanette, and had muscle definition along her biceps and abs—almost like he took a thrill in going after someone who possessed more physical strength than ideal for maintaining any sort of control. She had freckles across the top of her chest, up her neck, and down her arms in a much more concentrated pattern than Jeanette did. Miles had already been brutalizing her as she could see little pinhole marks in a ragged line across the surface of her skin where she struggled with her restraints—likely as a result of being lashed by a section of barbed wire after each struggle. Each little mark had varying puncture wounds; some worse than others, as the blood had barely begun to ooze from them and had already started to scab over. She had multiple cuts along the curve of her collarbone, down the entire length of her left arm like Morse code, and one across her cheek. Jeanette surmised that this was the reason for the screams earlier.
She didn't want to fathom the exact reason why but the woman who had been in the basement for a maximum of two hours already had considerably more wounds than she did…but she knew nothing good would come of this.
Jeanette already knew the likely purpose of her being brought down into the basement but hoped that that this poor creature had not even begun to fathom the kind of monster that had snatched her from her daily life. Miles had been more careful with this one as she was restrained to the support beam with a 'v' shaped lead behind her back instead of in front of her, her ankles shackled together with a two foot lead instead of a three foot length of chain. He had left her neck fully exposed and completely unrestrained, likely for a reason. Miles practically pushed Jeanette down the last two steps and tossed her onto the hard, wooden and metal chair that he had sat on earlier when she was restrained before him like she were on display. The cold metal stung the backs of her legs as he secured the ankle restraint chain underneath of the chair legs. It was bordering on painful as he took her arms above her head and hooked the chain between her restraints to a clevis slip hook with a latch to keep the chain firmly in place. He even wiggled the fitting to make certain that she was not getting out of it before moving on. Miles took a look at both of them for a painfully long moment, the silence in the room had becoming increasingly severe, nearly deafening, before heading back up the stairs and back out the door.
Jeanette waited only a moment after hearing the door shut to address the woman directly across from her. "Hey, what's your name hon?"
"Kaya," The woman's voice was soft and shaky as she swallowed hard, instinctively pulling on the chains, just hoping that one had been improperly secured.
"Kaya—I'm Jeanette, it's going to be ok," Jeanette could feel the tears welling up in her eyes as she blatantly lied to her, doing anything she could to calm her down. "Try not to panic—I know that's hard but you've already been injured."
"Why is he doing this?" Kaya's tears were already rolling down her cheeks freely as she was visibly shaking; all of her muscles were over-firing as her body and mind were both fully concentrating on the will and want to run.
"I don't know," Jeanette wanted to say more but the door above opened again and Miles's heavy footsteps immediately stopped her from furthering her comment.
He was whistling his seemingly favorite song again as he took his sweet time coming down the stairs, following along with the melody with each and every step he took behind each step to match the one in the song. He was thoroughly pleased with himself as he stopped at the bottom of the stairs and made eye contact with Jeanette, who couldn't help herself as she nearly burned a hole straight through him with a fiery glare. If looks could have killed, they'd be well on their way to freedom. He sneered at her, the wheels visibly turning within his sick and twisted mind while he carried his tool box into the space, the instruments inside rattling around just enough to make Kaya sob just a little louder. Jeanette glanced at Kaya as she started to hyperventilate, and then looked back in Miles's direction, continuing to shoot daggers at him, as he carried his tool box toward Kaya, setting it slowly down about a foot from her, his eyes never once leaving Jeanette. His silence lent no aid to keeping Kaya from the panic attack that had gone from mild to near full blown in a matter of seconds as he pulled a serrated blade from the top of the tool box and maneuvered around behind the support post.
"Kaya, look at me," Jeanette's voice was shaky but had volume behind it as she pushed as much determination into her tone as humanly possible, helplessly watching Kaya's desperation unfold as she tried to look behind her to follow Miles while he paced back and forth, in and out of her field of vision. "Look at me."
Miles looked toward Jeanette before he swung the blade and clipped Kaya's elbow just enough to send a shooting pain up her arm and coax out a fevered cry but Kaya didn't have the wear-with-all to focus her energy on looking at Jeanette. Miles sliced her again, this time catching her across the middle of her back with the tip of the blade, tearing open the thin material of her shirt and sports bra, slashing the tender flesh open in the process. She was fighting it but the torture she had already been enduring had left her senses vulnerable, her nerve endings more sensitive. Miles held her by the hair for leverage and slowly cut a 'v' pattern across her mid back, the serration catching in three spots, causing the skin to rip apart more than intended in those sections. The blood was overwhelming as it variated between drags, dribbles, and spatter down her back, the wall, his clothes, and onto the floor; the horror scene had only begun to unfold in front of them at his hands. Jeanette didn't even have to experience it to know how much it hurt as the scream that came from Kaya was delayed by a sharp inhale that nearly knocked the wind out of her. She screamed again, this time much louder and less restrained.
"Kaya, you have to try, please, look at me!" She almost couldn't see through the tears as they were forming like glass over her eyes, welling up until they could no longer teeter on the edge of her eyelids.
Miles positioned himself fully behind Kaya and adjusted his grip on her hair, yanking her head back just enough to throttle her while his eyes were in Jeanette's direction, taunting her silently. Kaya's breathing patterns softened just enough that her screaming subsided and her eyes followed the line of the floor until she finally could see Jeanette looking right at her. She bit down hard on her lip and inhaled through her nostrils, locking stares with Jeanette, willing herself to gather the same kind of fevered energy that Jeanette was conveying through the motherly intensity that shined brightly through her eyes. Kaya had to believe that she was capable of being strong enough not to give in and fight it. She wanted to. Miles wasn't satisfied with himself despite seeing the smallest of change in Jeanette's rougher exterior as she tried so desperately to save Kaya in any way that she could. He tossed the serrated blade back into his tool box and started rooting around through the implements that had all been used on various other victims, Jeanette included.
None of it was enough. None of it was right.
He knelt into the bottom of the standing storage unit that rested at the bottom of the stairs and pulled a fifteen foot length of chain from one of the bottom boxes. He stood upright and admired the craftsmanship of it before clicking the end with a clevis slip hook on it against the bottom of the 'v' of the chain between Kaya's wrists. Jeanette had a bad feeling about his next plan of action as she could recall the fairly large, forged eye loop bolt secured into the wood about six feet up the support beam that her own arms were suspended from at one point, that had been used to dead lift her twice via a sliding chain. The sinking feeling was confirmed as she could see Miles pass into the corner of her field of vision as he methodically started sliding the chain through the loop there was slack hanging on the end not attached to the chain hooked to Kaya's wrists.
"Don't look at him, Kaya, keep looking straight at me," Jeanette could feel her tears stinging as she blinked hard and tried to put on a brave face for her, the genuine fear coming out in her voice.
Kaya's pain tolerance and intestinal fortitude was about to be put to the test as Miles started to pull on the chain, wrenching Kaya's arms in an upward motion starting from the wrists. Miles was banking on the idea that Kaya was not double jointed as he kept tugging on the chain, giving no pause for her suffering. His suspicion was verified as the motion resulted in her craning forward as far as she could while putting a vast amount of pressure on her back and shoulders. She stared forward at Jeanette, slowly turning a bright shade of red as she seemed to be holding her breath as the pain followed, sending shooting pains down her shoulder blades, through her arms. It wouldn't be long before something would have to give, however, as Miles pulled another three to six inches of the chain further contorting her shoulders. The sweat formed on Kaya's forehead and had started to filter down, mixing with her tears along the way, before dripping onto her lap and the floor in front of her. Miles gave the chain another strong pull and the double pop of Kaya's shoulders dislocating echoed through the room along with the sound of a shrill, ear piercing scream that only lasted a few seconds before she passed out from the pain. Miles let the chain drop and watched as Kaya's unconscious body slump forward; her arms limp behind her back, shoulders clearly popped out of the sockets.
"Fucking spineless bastard!" Jeanette couldn't help it anymore as the tears were down her cheeks, the passionate scream leaving her lips like she had been holding it in for weeks.
"Calm down, she's not dead," Miles reached down and felt her pulse before repositioning her restraints to where they were at her sides instead of behind her. "…Not yet, anyway."
"Why are you doing this?" Her vulnerability was on display, tears in clear, shiny streaks down her face.
Miles gathered up the chain and tool box, setting them into the cabinet at the bottom of the stairs where his other paraphernalia had been stored. He carefully organized them the way he wanted them and turned back toward Jeanette, studying her physicality. He could feel the pure hatred for him radiating off of her as she finally made eye contact with him again, glaring through her tears. Miles couldn't help but smirk at her, tickled over her rage, and approached her with a slow, tentative pace so he could relish in the purity of her emotional response.
"I thought it was pretty obvious," Miles coiled his fingers through her hair again and craned her neck back as he pulled on her long, curly tresses until he could look her in the eye. "I'm going to break you, Dee, one way or another…sooner or later."
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9:30 PM
FBI Headquarters
Mulder and Scully's office
The lights had been flickering for just over an hour in the entire FBI building but hadn't gone completely off in the basement level office, at least not yet, anyway. The torrential downpour of rain had turned into snow shortly after six thirty with no signs of stopping for quite some time. The wind had been steadily building speed and momentum, making the already hairy weather patterns that much worse as the reports poured in of motor vehicle accidents across the entire DC area, over into West Virginia, and up toward Boston. The hurricane force winds combined with the snow had created the perfect conditions for a blizzard to develop, effectively trapping everyone where they were. The weather wasn't about to stop the investigation from moving forward as time was not their ally, with each passing hour the hope of finding Jeanette alive had grown increasingly slim. The first 48 hours is critical in a missing person's case and Jeanette had been missing for the over twelve of those precious hours. Hope was all they had left, even if things looked rather grim outside.
Scully was seated somewhat comfortably in Mulder's chair, her legs crossed and torso slouched forward just enough to be looking over the paperwork in front of her. She had on Mulder's oversized, black coat to keep her warm over the top of the clothes that she had not gotten to change out of yet, that had been left in the office from days earlier, the pockets still filled with sunflower seeds like emergency rations. Why he felt the need to fill his pockets whenever they left the building was beyond her but she couldn't help but smile as she felt them rattle around with every move she made. She thumbed through the paperwork in front of her, hand against the folder in front of her open to a list of victims, official causes of death, and the chronological order of their deaths along with a big, still steaming cup of coffee to her right. Across from her in the chair that she usually occupied sat Max, who was busy rifling through a pile of photographs with his tongue sticking out unconsciously for added concentration and focus. His anal retention was on full tilt while he feverishly thumbed through each photo, arranging them by victim as well as chronological date of death. He looked tired but not exhausted like Skinner had been looking earlier when Mulder had to force him to sit down with some coffee. Mulder's physical presence was missing from the room but his coffee was at the desk with Scully's and his paperwork was strewn about as usual, evidence of him everywhere.
Scully wrinkled her eyebrows as she glanced at her watch and took a sip of coffee before at the wall mounted clock. "Max, when did Mulder go upstairs to call Skinner?"
Max had his coffee cup up by his mouth when she was talking and put it down while still swirling a little bit in his mouth before swallowing to check his watch. "20 minutes I think…huh, he should've been back by now. Want me to go see if I can find him?"
"Mmmmm…yeah, just in case," Scully looked up at the angled windows above her head to scope out the snowfall but could only see the layer of white power that had long lost all transparency and went fully opaque. "I don't know if he ended up having to go outside to call or not."
"On it," Max took another heavy swig of the coffee to send a warm wave down his throat before standing up, fastening his jacket.
It had been cold in the office, unusually so, but they couldn't help simply blaming it on the weather. It was chilly enough that a simple jacket and normal attire almost wasn't enough to keep ones limbs sufficiently warm. They had all been shivering in the basement level office since they arrived and it had been getting progressively worse since the snow started in. Max stuffed his hands into his pockets and started for the door but just as he was about to walk out of the office the ding of the elevator followed by shockingly loud cussing that was most certainly Mulder's stopped his forward progress. He looked back at Scully, who had uncrossed her legs as she could hear him.
"Jesus Christ! Fuck! Cold! Shit! Damn! Damn! Double damn!" Mulder's voice increased in volume, the shock building behind his tone, as his boots squeaked against the floor and melting snow began loudly splashing against the linoleum.
It was certainly an interesting listen from inside of the office as Max mouthed "what in the hell?" toward Scully, who simply shrugged her shoulders, a smile curving on her lips. They had all been a little worse for the wear but Mulder's ever-present knack for raising a few eyebrows certainly hadn't faded.
"Mulder?" Scully stood and started to walk toward the door just as he came around the corner, snow on top of his head, across his shoulders, and in the front of his coat. "Oh, shit…"
"Do not laugh, Scully, it doesn't end well," Mulder shot her a glance, the tip of his nose and across his cheeks and forehead bright red from exposure to the cold temps outside. "I cannot feel my ears or my toes…and I am not entirely sure that I am a properly working male at this point."
Scully bit down on her lip and as she hid her mouth with her hand, desperately trying to hold in a laugh. "Oh, Mulder, why did you go outside?"
Max leaned against the table in the corner and had a similar pose to Scully's as Mulder started to shake the snow off of his shoulders and hair. He looked more than just cold; he looked like he was teetering precariously on the border of frost bitten. Scully didn't want to laugh but it was awkwardly humorous as she watched him shake away the snow on his shoulders before desperately looking for his coffee.
"Signal didn't want to work in the hallway or the upstairs hallway—I even tried to angle myself in the breezeway. Nothing…till I marched my happy ass outside into Santa's playground," Mulder picked up his coffee and held it between his palms and closed his eyes, groaning a little loudly until he heard a hint of a laugh start to leave Scully's lips. "Don't start."
"If she doesn't, I will—you look ridiculous," Max couldn't help himself as he let out a fairly hearty laugh followed by a big smirk. "Don't forget, this winter, bring your Mulder in from outside…if you're cold, he's cold."
Scully finally let it out and buried her face in her hands, muffling the laugh in the process while Mulder shot Max a visibly wounded look. Max had fallen quite nicely into the enabler label for all of Mulder's well and not-so-well timed jokes and physically ironic moments—his big brain had a knack for catching on quickly and a little bit of light-heartedness was necessary, if not essential, to surviving in the basement. Part of Mulder was relieved over the reduction in the tension in the air, even if it was at his expense, but he was being very serious about not being able to feel some of his extremities as he started to shift his feet around, knocking the last of the wet snow onto the floor.
"Maximus, you traitor," Mulder sipped his coffee, feigning the fake butt hurt as he sunk into the chair near the white board next to the desk, rubbing his hands across his knees to generate some heat. "In other news, Skinner is stuck out at the Arlington Police Department—for the foreseeable future until Jack Frost stops acting like an asshole."
"That's going to make working the details of this case pretty hard when half of our team is scattered all over the place," Max rubbed the bridge of his nose underneath of his glasses and took another drink of his coffee.
"Only if we let it—the snow could help out a lot as well," Mulder slipped the wet coat off and jimmied it through a file cabinet drawer so it could finish drip drying. "It could slow down the ability for the killer to transport a victim or find new ones…may even slow the current course of action on the one he has now and buy her time if she's still alive."
"That's probably more than valid right now, Mulder," Scully wiped what looked like tears from the corners of her eyes and looked over at him with her best attempt at an apologetic look. "While you were outside playing in the snow, Max discovered a pretty little pattern you might want to see."
Mulder turned toward Max, who was already positioning himself next to the white board with the stack of photographs. "Oh, visual aids—Max, you know what I like."
Max started to tape each photograph of the victims on the white board. He put Melissa, Maggie, Elizabeth, Rebecca, and Emmalyn's photo on one side of the board with Meghan, Angelique, Diana and Jeanette on the other, Victoria in the middle. He labeled above each photo with an "H" or an "O", indicating whether they had been killed in their homes or at an outside location. Mulder furrowed his eyebrows as he looked at their faces then back at Max.
"What am I supposed to be seeing with this, professor?" Mulder glanced at Scully then back at Max, who was looking quite proud of his work.
"On the left you have three brunettes and two blonds who were all killed in either their own homes or the home of a friend – they were never removed from the location in which they were originally attacked in. Their timelines are stagnant and immediate—attacked and killed, no delays," Max continued as he put hair color labels below each photo before sliding to the right side of the white board with his dry erase pen. "Over here is when things get a little strange…you have the women who were abducted, taken to a different location, and killed subsequently sometime thereafter. All of them have varying timelines for their torture and subsequent deaths. That's of course not counting Jeanette because she is still simply a missing person…and all of them have red hair."
"You know that I'm weak red-green color blind so a pattern like this wouldn't necessarily immediately stand out for me, right?" Mulder crossed his arms as glanced back at Scully, who was already smirking at him.
"I already told him that but, even with that in mind, I should've recognized this pattern emerging—given the circumstances, while Victoria is our only redheaded anomaly that wasn't abducted and taken somewhere else…I'm suggesting that she would've likely been taken from the home had her screams not been louder than the music being played," Scully took a moment to take a quick drink of her coffee before continuing. "This might be his motive and helps to establish a profile on him."
"Scully, do I need to put a protective detail on you 24 hours a day?" Mulder was half joking and half serious as the notion of a serial killer with a fetish for red haired women was making his stomach a little less settled.
"Mulder, I am not exactly in my 20s nor do I resemble these women beyond their hair color—I doubt we need to go there," Scully rolled her eyes and leaned back in the chair, cup still in her hands.
"Scully," Mulder raised his eyebrows at her being so easily dismissive of the idea that she resembled these women in any way.
"Mulder," Scully couldn't help but cross her arms as she looked at him, her lips pursed together as they both maintained eye contact with each other, unwilling to waver.
"The thing to focus on is that we have a man, who likely has some stature to him, likely around 200 pounds, over 6 feet tall, with a fetish for a fairly petite, blue eyed, red haired, pale skinned female—he does stray from the last two but doesn't abduct them, simply kills them," Max felt like he was interrupting a parental argument as he sat back down in the chair across from the desk, immediately reorganizing the duplicates of the photos. "This is a releasable model for law enforcement to deliver a PSA."
"It'll help out along with the results of the forensics testing on the letter that Victoria gave us. Now that the weather has slowed down things here I don't know how long it'll take to find out if the killer left us anything on it," Mulder was starting to feel that the frigid change in temp where the snow had penetrated through his clothes, the chill in the air only adding to the lack of warmth against damp. "Did you get to copy that letter before Skinner sent it to the lab?"
Scully went through her file in front of her and pulled it from the stack, giving it to Mulder as she spoke. "I get the distinct impression that he's not referring to Victoria when he's using the word 'Dee' to address the subject. I think he's intending on someone else to read that—Victoria is simply the spark to get it addressed."
"What wording makes it come across that way?" Max had read the letter a few times but his abilities were far less focused on the melodic interpretation of the words and more on the definite, more evidence based proof.
Mulder was reading out loud from the copy paper, his other hand precariously teetering his half full coffee cup, purposely making his voice monotone. "Everything I've done, I've done for you—but your eyes are closed and you refuse to see. They've all been my gifts, my pretty little offerings to you."
"On the surface it completely looks like it's aimed at Victoria but she's been altered by him, she's one of the so-called gifts he mentions in this manifesto of insanity," Scully had air quotes around the word 'gifts' as she was half fidgeting as she explained it to Max.
The overhead lights flashed again, this time lingering off for more than a couple of seconds that sent a mechanical hum through the room as all of the equipment that had been plugged in essentially went into reset mode. The computer that hadn't been powered off earlier made a little whir followed by a hollow tick as it shut itself off from the power surge. Mulder had left two VCR's plugged in underneath of the stand holding the television and both went into power start that sent an echoing clicking sound from the tapes being simultaneously ejected. The air current in the ventilation system finally went silent as the boiler had finally had enough of the power surges, undoubtedly turning itself off in the process. The flicker and the subtle noises that followed caused the room to go quiet for a few agonizing moments as they all became hyper aware of just how isolated this room had become. Mulder glanced up at the light fixture for a moment with his head tilted just enough to where his ear was aimed at the doorway where he heard the elevator dinging multiple times as the electrical surge created a small mechanical issue with it until it settled down again, returning to a dull hum. Mulder got out of his chair and proceeded to stand on it, utilizing the top of the white board to steady himself as his boots sunk into the cushion just slightly. His hand pressed along the ceiling vent but no air passed over his skin, no heat either.
"If we don't find someplace else to discuss this case we are going to be stuck here until the snow stops and likely turn into popsicles without any heat," Mulder got down off of the chair and pulled his jacket on that he had hung from the filing cabinet, the collar and back still damp.
Scully's eyes widened as she could see him clearly getting ready to venture out into the snow. "Mulder, where are we going to go, realistically? The freeways are probably a mess and the car doesn't have four wheel drive."
"The SUV does," Max interjected, giving both of them a sideways glance as the lights flickered again.
"We gather up a box of what we need to go over, stick it in the SUV and go anywhere with heat, Scully," Mulder put a couple of files into the box on the floor next to the desk that still had some of the evidence inventory at the bottom. "I'm not turning into a Mulder-pop when the power goes out."
"Don't look at me, I'm in the Coral Hills and my complex's parking area is a deathtrap in clear weather," Max shrugged his shoulders as Scully looked at him, a smirk relishing the sarcasm.
Scully stood up and zipped up the front of Mulder's heavy coat before sliding the files in front of her into the box that Mulder had already lifted up off the floor. "I can't believe that I'm suggesting this but…I have a fireplace and plenty of coffee."
"You just want to change out of Max's sweats," Mulder wiggled his eyebrows at her as he took a file folder out of her hand and slid it into the box.
Max gathered up the work he had been carefully arranging and set them into the box, glancing over at Scully, who had her nose wrinkled at Mulder. "I promise they were clean, Scully."
The lights blinked again, giving them cause to be a little faster with gathering up their box of case work. They opted to leave the white board alone since they already had additional copies of the photographs in the files and tossed their paper cups into the waste bin. Max pulled on his heavier FBI jacket and zipped it tight before lidding the box of evidence. It was not unusual to take work home just to get out of the office, away from the stagnancy of staring at the same wall in exchange for creature comforts, for any of them but it wasn't typical that they would be, out of necessity, leaving in the same vehicle, to the same place. Scully took another look above her head at the snow against the basement windows, noticing that the layer closest to the window had fused together, essentially becoming a sheet of ice against the glass.
"Are we ready?" Mulder had the box in his hands, fully prepped for venturing into the cold.
They followed him out, locking the door behind them, before walking to the elevator that all three had reservations about getting into. Nothing says "stuck" like lights that don't want to fully stay on but they risked it, pressed the garage level on the interior panel and waited for the doors to close. It was incredibly cold, even moreso than the basement office was, and sent a shiver down their spines that raised every hair on their bodies. The short ride felt long as they all watched and waited for each floor change until it lit up against the garage indicator. The doors opened and sent a breeze at them that nearly leveled Mulder, who stood in front of Scully just enough to get the brunt of the cold burst.
"That'll make a man's outie become an innie," Mulder inhaled sharply and shivered before heading out toward the SUV that was parked in one of the closest spaces.
Max even found himself with aching joints and teeth chattering within a few moments as he opened the driver side door to the SUV. "This kind of weather does not favor having testicles, that's for sure."
Scully glanced down the ramp at the entrance where at least four inches of snow had accumulated, the black ice half visible underneath a sheet of shimmering powder. "It could be a rough ride all the way to my apartment—black ice at the bottom of the ramp."
Mulder opened the back of the SUV and slid the box into the empty space before closing it, his eyes looking out at the weather through the slats at chest level. "Looks quiet out there, though, that could be beneficial."
Scully was already in the backseat as Mulder scooted in next to her while Max was more than comfortable behind the wheel. She didn't know how she felt about not having a night to decompress after the explosion with only Mulder for even a fleeting few hours but she didn't feel right about letting Max venture out into this weather on his own, even if he was more than capable of getting home safely. Mulder could tell that she was a little tense as he watched her slide across the leather seats, half gritting her teeth as she reached for the seatbelt. Mulder gave her a quick squeeze on the hand after she secured her seatbelt as Max guided the SUV carefully down the ramp toward the exit. She looked over at him with a little hint of a smile on her lips, appreciative of knowing that he was here.
"I grew up in a town with a lot of snow, so this kind of stuff isn't difficult for me to navigate through – you just tell me where I need to go and I'll have us there in no time," Max turned the heat on just a bit higher and flicked the rear defroster on.
"You know the way to Georgetown, right, Maximus?" Mulder unhooked his seatbelt and slid into the middle, buckling himself there instead.
"Got it, Georgetown," Max made a right onto the nearly empty roadway and felt the gentle give of the snow as he drove across the fresh powder. "It looks like a ghost town out here…I don't remember a time that it was this quiet."
Scully bit down on the corner of her lip as his right hand found hers; initiating contact with her as though he was always meant to be this close to her, fingers wrapped around hers. Mulder rubbed the top of her hand, that boyish grin hiding on his lips like a well-kept secret that only she could see. They may not have had that elusive time alone but they were together and, after the day that they both had, they needed each other in any way they could get.
"The Christmas lights really stick out in this snow," Scully glanced out the window, catching a glimpse of one of the displays before the freeway entrance.
Mulder looked forward between the front seats, out the windshield, and caught sight of the bright variations of Christmas decorations on homes and at businesses. Washington DC was big on uniformity and he noticed the street lamps with the bells and such, but the snow really did make all of the festive preparations stand out moreso than usual. It was hard not to look at all of it and imagine a simpler life where they didn't have any bad guys to chase.
"It definitely does stand out quite a bit, doesn't it?" Mulder wasn't necessarily big into Christmas as he'd usually avoid anything to do with it unless he was invited somewhere and even then, being alone still seemed like an easier option.
"Max, you're going to need to take this next exit," Scully was impressed with his ability to drive through snow like this, even if there were only a handful of cars that along the way. "It'll be a left at the bottom."
"Next exit, then left, got it," Max glanced at them through the rearview before focusing fully on the road. "See? I told you that I'd get you there in no time at all, Scully."
"Save your boasting for when you park the SUV, macho man—the exits are usually worse than the freeway," Mulder patted Max on the shoulder, chuckling at him just a little.
Max kept the tires on the fresh white powder instead of the areas that looked as though tires had gone through recently. The movement was effortless as he eased off on the gas and waited until it was the right moment to lightly apply the brakes until he came to a complete stop at the bottom of the exit at a red light. He took a left as the light turned green and the SUV never even made a wiggle as it maneuvered through the heavy snow underneath of the overpass. Mulder knew that the boasting was imminent as Max glanced at him with a smug little grin before continuing down the street.
"It's about 6 lights down to the right, Max," Scully knew in that moment what it would be like to have teenaged boys as Mulder's nose wrinkled at Max from the backseat.
Scully watched as the snow seemed to get a little thicker the closer they got to her apartment building. It was still almost a sideways directional pattern as the sky had opened up and refused to close, the darkness replaced with a sheen of white hazy glow that nearly created a daylight effect when it was nearing eleven. Max pulled up against the sidewalk and hugged the cement tight with the wheels but not so much to scrape them along the abrasive surface then carefully shifted the SUV into park before setting the E brake just in case.
"Now I can boast," Max smirked as Scully opened the door and slid out into the snow, her boots sinking in to her ankle level almost immediately.
"Nobody likes a big head, Max," Mulder shifted out of the SUV not far behind Scully and the cold stung again as it was almost coming down in a pelting motion from the wind speed against the back of his neck.
Max got out of the driver's side and locked the SUV before going to the back to retrieve the box of evidence from the cargo area. He turned around and looked around at the skyline at the unyielding storm as it raged on, the wind swirling and the snow slapping against the side of his face. It was incredible yet foreboding as the thunder in the distance started to roll, echoing against his ears like a heavy bass drum. He hadn't seen a winter storm quite like this since he was in middle school and it was just as fascinating then as it had become now—only, memories were attached to it, sensations, and feelings. Max hadn't really gotten to look at any investigation as anything more than a series of scientific calculations and quantifications until he could feel the tension building in the air, the urgency rising, and the pure dread of not knowing what might happen in the next moment. It was almost intoxicating as he felt the sting of each flake against his skin, a reminder of the missing woman in desperate need of their help, who was out there waiting for them. Mulder and Scully were already halfway up the sidewalk to the doorway while he was still standing just outside of the SUV with the box in his hands, wonderment on his face as though it had been years since he had seen weather like this.
"Max, are you coming or are you staying out here?" Scully's voice brought him back to reality and made him turn his head toward her.
"Oh, yeah, sorry," Max was quick in making his way up the sidewalk to the steps, the sound of snow crunching under his feet with every step beckoning him back to his childhood. "That thunder was pretty loud."
"It was loud earlier, too, but we weren't outside to actually feel it reverberate through the snow," Mulder opened the door and held it for both Max and Scully, the wind pressing against it as if protesting their absence from the elements.
They went in, tracking snow into the entry, and half stomped some of it away before heading to Scully's front door. It was quiet in the building but Scully was immediately grateful that the power was on and the heat appeared to be working fine in the building. She wiped off her shoulders and started to reach into the pockets of the sweat pants to retrieve her keys. Without thinking or hesitation, Mulder slid the spare key to her place that she had given him quite some time ago into the lock and opened the door, catching the upturned eyebrow of Max almost immediately.
"Well, I'll be damned—maybe I should've joined in on that office pool," Max was completely tickled as he could see the 'deer-in-the-headlights' expression immediately plastered on their faces as Mulder pulled back the key and slid it into his own pocket.
Scully and Mulder wrinkled their eyebrows at each other as Max walked into the apartment and slid off his jacket, both questioning, in unison. "Wait a second, what office pool?!"
"Oh come on, you two can't seriously think that all of the uber-nerds are strictly talking casework when we are waiting for hours on end for equipment to finish analyzing evidence, right?" Max laughed a little as they both took off their jackets and slid them over the back of the chairs, snow dripping everywhere almost immediately. "Why do you think some of us get awkwardly quiet when you walk into the room?"
"Worse than pre-pubescent teenagers," Scully muttered as she slid out of her boots and slid them under the chair to finish drying out.
"Some people make pools about sports…the forensics division tends to keep it FBI related," Max was slightly nonchalant about the ambiguous topic as he took off his own jacket and placed it carefully on the back of the third chair along with his very wet boots. "We all know half of the current field teams are all fucking like jack rabbits so—"
"Maximus, I had no idea you were so…deviant," Mulder was pretending to be shocked as he was already halfway into Scully's living room. "It's like I didn't know you at all. Impressive."
"Mulder," Scully's eyes had widened after she locked the door and turned toward him as he was already on his knees in front of the fireplace.
Mulder let out a laugh, amusement on his face while he adjusted the kindling and paper into a section in the fireplace. "Scully, it's just gossip."
"Agent Scully, the pool about you two is pretty tame, if that's at all a consolation," Max had a half smile on his face as he came around the side of the couch, addressing Mulder in an attempt to change the subject as he saw Scully's look of shock written across her face. "Anything I can do to help?"
"So…go on, what's the theory, then?" Scully's curiosity was more than piqued but in her interest she unintentionally set Max back into his off kilter mode again as he sat down in her fluffy chair and began awkwardly fiddling with his thumbs.
"Well…" the words wouldn't leave Max's mouth as she made eye contact with him.
Mulder glanced back at Scully and mouthed "you are so mean" at her, but out of Max's view, as he slid one of those extend burn manufactured logs into the middle of the grate on top of the little pile of kindling and paper before flicking along the inside of the stone barrier he had been kneeling against. It lit up a spark and ignited the edge of the paper as he dotted it along until the kindling started to crackle underneath of the more robust extend burn logs. The log didn't take long to catch fire and start putting out the light as well as the heat as he stoked it for just a moment more until he was satisfied that it would continue to burn. As he adjusted the cover in front of the fireplace the awkward tension coming from behind him was illuminated as he could hear Max's nervous exhale finally leave his lips.
"Maximus, come on, you said it wasn't that bad—out with it," Mulder sat with his back to the fireplace with his legs crossed as though in meditation, the fire crackling behind him gently.
"It's two against one…the fairness isn't in my favor," Max brought his ankle up to his knee and leaned back, getting comfortable as he glanced between them while Scully took a seat on the center of the couch with her leg tucked underneath of her. "The pool going around about you two is divided into three groups. The first group has bet that you already slept together, kind of a one and done sort of deal. The second says that you haven't slept together but are heading that way like a long hauler with no brakes on a downward slope. The last one is that you've been sleeping together secretly and are regularly doing it…as often as you can."
Scully sucked her bottom lip into her mouth and held it there, unsure whether to be horrified or amused at the idea that anyone would be discussing, let alone putting bets on whether or not her and Mulder had been having sex. It was a notion that had always been carefully guarded in tight lipped fantasy land until a few short days ago and even in a reveal to Mulder, her stomach still turned at the idea of rejection. Mulder knew exactly where Scully's mind was wandering off to as he felt some of those same trepidations fluttering around within his stomach. It was their reality that the unknown was now in front of them but even with that uncertainty floating in the air he wanted nothing more than to always be looking at the woman in front of him, with her fingers fumbling on the edge of a tee shirt like a nervous teenager.
"What were you so nervous about, Maximus? That's tame," Mulder cut the tension in the room, shrugging his shoulders almost dismissively in the process before peeking over his shoulder to check on the fire again.
"I'm pretty sure that it wasn't necessarily the subject matter that had me nervous, Mulder, but rather the fact that the tiny redhead over there could easily kick my ass before I knew what was happening," Max smirked, a touch of nervousness hiding behind the humor as he glanced at Scully, who had stood up while he was speaking.
"I don't bite, Max—well, I won't bite you, anyway," Scully let a smile peek out as she stood there with a hand on her hip before disappearing into her bedroom, leaving both of them with their jaws on the floor.
Mulder chuckled as he made eye contact with Max. "I do believe that was aimed at me, Maximus, and I'm certain that it was supposed to be a threat. Promises, promises."
"I can hear you, Mulder," Scully's slightly amused voice came from the bedroom along with the sound of drawers opening and closing.
"That's the intention, Scully," Mulder stoked the fire both literally and figuratively, smirking at Max as he clearly addressed Scully, who was still in her bedroom.
"Why do I feel like I should've joined in on the betting?" Max laughed as Mulder pushed the log backwards just a bit on the fireplace grate until it was sending out a little bit more flame and heat at the same time.
Mulder added a smaller log to the fire and put the protective mesh gate back in front of the fireplace. "Speaking of, what would you have picked, Max?"
Max didn't even hesitate as he stood up from the comfortable chair. "Oh, that's easy…long hauler."
Scully walked back out of the bedroom with her hair freshly brushed and a fresh pair of black satin pajama bottoms on that dragged all the way to the floor and a matching black camisole with spaghetti straps. "Why am I not surprised at that answer?"
"In some respects, I am no better than a 12-year-old—this is just my reality," Max shrugged his shoulders as he spoke very matter-of-factly, nodding gently at her. "By the way, where's your bathroom, Scully?"
"Just around the corner," Scully pointed to the door beyond the bedroom and rolled her eyes as she maneuvered past him to stand next to Mulder as he knelt next to the fire, extending her hands forward to feel the heat as it passed through the little vent holes and out the main opening.
Max nodded and went off to the bathroom, the heavy click of the lock shifting into place after shutting the door proceeding his absence from the room, leaving Mulder and Scully alone fully. Mulder looked up at Scully from his crouching position and maneuvered himself to face her rather than the fireplace, gently tugging her by the waist until her belly level was almost squarely aimed at his face. He wrapped his arms around her and pulled her in, half gripping her backside in the process, all the while not taking his eyes off of her. She looked down at him, bottom lip firmly between her teeth, and laced her fingers through his hair, her nails grazing his scalp. He closed his eyes for a moment and reveled in her touch, inhaled a deep breath of her body spray, and slid his hands underneath of Scully's camisole until his fingers were against skin at the curve of her lower back.
"Mulder?" Scully inhaled sharply as she could feel his fingers tapping the already sore skin of her lower back. "What are you doing?"
"Shhh…Scully, I'll be quick," Mulder was still looking up at her but his hands were sliding around to her abdomen, where he exposed the skin close to her belly button to the air where he left a trail of soft, bordering on ticklish kisses.
Scully's fingers were still in Mulder's hair as she tensed her grip just enough to tug him, causing his mouth to stutter in an upwards direction, dragging his bottom lip along her skin with enough veracity that he was able to coax an audible gasp from her. "Mulder, we're going to get caught."
"I'm listening for the flush, Scully," Mulder nibbled on her skin and felt her hips shift against him involuntarily while the goosebumps flooded her.
"That's good because…I'm not," Scully swallowed hard, the chills moving over her like waves electrified by nothing more than a touch and sweet, little kisses.
Mulder slowly let go of her, his reluctance clear in his motion as he kissed the top of her hand while he ran a hand through his hair. "There it was."
"Dammit," Scully inhaled deeply and looked down at him as he settled back onto his backside again, the dull ache returning in her knees and thighs where the bruises started sending a pulse of pain up her legs.
"You have more candles in your bathroom than most churches do, Scully," Max walked out of the bathroom and sank into the couch cushions this time, holding onto one of Scully's throw pillows in the process.
"They aren't always in there, Max—you must not know a lot of women. Women like to take baths by candle light," Scully could feel the heat from the fireplace against the backs of her legs almost soothing away the soreness from the explosion.
"Ambience, Maximus, ambience," Mulder got to his feet and started for the kitchen, a smile on his face as he winked at Scully.
"That's just mean, I haven't had a date in going on three years—the last thing I'd know about is what girls keep in their bathrooms aside from my mom and she's hardly the candle lit bath type of woman," Max was almost embarrassed as he crossed his arms and wrinkled his nose while admitting his lack of intimacy.
"What? Are you saying that none of the forensics boys and girls are knocking boots?" Mulder had pulled a box of hot cocoa down from above the coffee along with a box of microwave popcorn.
"I'm sure there are but that would require me actually hitting on someone—which I'm bad at," Max crossed his legs and shrugged over the idea.
Max smirked and stretched his legs out awkwardly, both of his feet sliding under the couch in the process. He looked half awake but comfortable in her space, just not fully comfortable as if he were in his own home. He had a lot of respect for both of them and valued that they felt enough trust in him to allow him into what he considered to be a sanctuary, one's home, and wanted to treat her space as such. Scully walked around the couch and noticed him shuffling awkwardly on the couch, a confused smirk appearing on her lips as she entered her kitchen space with Mulder.
"Max, you know you can stretch out on my couch, right?" Scully pulled a couple of mugs down from the cupboard while Mulder filled her teapot with water for the cocoa.
Max tilted his head just enough to see both of them in the kitchen. "Are you sure? I didn't want to be rude."
"Please, make yourself at home—it's supposed to be comfortable," Scully set up three mugs while Mulder shifted to the microwave with one of the bags of popcorn.
"That couch will eat you, fair warning, Maximus," Mulder was warning him of the ease in which he fell asleep earlier on Scully's couch as he pushed start on the microwave.
Max took the invitation as a sincere gesture and made himself comfortable on the couch, stretching out until he could feel his back, knees, and shoulders pop as they relaxed. He groaned a little and tilted his head back, mouth agape as he looked as though he might fall asleep right there. Scully held back a laugh as she waited for the microwave to finish with the first bag before putting in a second, emptying it into a bowl on the counter in the process. Mulder brushed up against her, sneaking a little kiss on the cheek, his hand against her elbow affectionately.
"Hi," His words were barely above a whisper as they lingered against her cheek, the vibration of the simplest syllable striking a chord within her that invited the pink to return to her cheeks.
"Hey," She wanted more of him, but timing was poor as everything seemed to be put on temporary pause.
"Seriously, this is more comfortable than my bed," Max half laughed as he looked over at the fire, the soft glow of the flames already lulling him like a baby already halfway to a blissful sleep.
"That's the same thing that I said," Mulder looked over at the table where Scully's pain medication and topical ointment sat, his attention turning toward her. "Did you put any of that on yet, Scully?"
"I'm fine, Mulder," Scully dodged the question, the knot between her shoulders was stiff along with various other parts of her body that ached desperately.
The whistling of the boiling kettle saved her from the scolding as he turned his attention to pouring the cocoa instead of berating her for another moment. Scully took out the second bag of popcorn and distributed it into another bowl before carrying both into the living room, setting both on the coffee table. It was the smallest of gestures, but it was cozy as she pulled her fluffy throw blanket from the empty chair, already wrapping it around herself in the process.
"This feels like home," Max had one of those childlike grins plastered on his lips as Mulder put a mug of cocoa on the side table next to him and one in front of Scully as she curled up in front of the fire in a big, cozy blanket. "I've been away from family for a long time and this is the first time I've felt like I'm around the closest thing to family in quite some time."
"You're not just the go-to nerd, Maximus, you're our nerd," Mulder carefully sat down next to Scully on the floor and brandished the squeeze tube of topical cream, raising his eyebrow at her. "You've been bad, Doctor Scully."
"Mulder," Scully contemplated sticking her bottom lip out at him, but she had a feeling it wouldn't work on him even if she attempted it as she protested the foul smelling topical pain reliever.
"I know you need it on the bigger bruises as well but I'm not going to push that issue right now—at least let me rub some of it on your shoulders," Mulder put his cocoa onto the coffee table and adjusted his seated position to where there was ample room for her between his legs.
"Fine, fine, fine, if you insist," Scully pulled the blanket away from the back of her and scooted into the spot between his thighs, her back facing him, blanket across her lap like a skirt.
"You two are worse than a married couple," Max laughed at the exchange while he sipped his cocoa and took a small handful of popcorn from the bowl nearest to him, nibbling on a couple of the still hot kernels.
Scully and Mulder smirked at his reaction as Mulder put a fair amount of the topical pain reliever into his left hand while his right slipped the tiny straps down just enough that he could pull the back of the camisole down to about midback. Scully looked over her shoulder at him and invited his eye contact while he started rubbing in the cool gel against her skin. It was amazing how a single glance could spell out a thousand words as they stayed locked on to each other's gazes until Mulder's right hand grazed a tender spot between her shoulders. Scully's eyes darted forward and she sucked in a gasp that Mulder could feel reverberate against his fingers.
"Is that too hard?" Mulder didn't want to hurt her but he wanted the topical to do its job as he slowed the circular motion to a crawl.
Scully gritted her teeth and gripped the blanket, pulling it up by her chin in the process. "No, it's ok, keep going."
"The explosion inflicted more after effect pain than you were letting on?" Max was concerned as he was watching Scully's face turn a bit red from not properly breathing as Mulder rubbed in the heavily menthol scented topical.
She nodded and let the air out of her lungs in an audible, uncomfortable exhale, the involuntary spasm following as it carried down her back. The feeling that waiting so long to apply the pain reliever was considerably more painful than the actual touch from Mulder as he gently rubbed in the ointment. Scully was more than a little stubborn and Mulder knew that understating her pain was going to be her pattern while she was recovering from the explosion. He could feel her tensing up and relaxing under his touch, her overwhelming need for the pain to pass outweighing the sensation of every nerve pulsing heavily throughout her body. Mulder finished rubbing the ointment in and carefully guided her backwards against his chest, pulling the blanket around her in the process.
"Is it any better?" Mulder wiped a bit of sweat from her forehead and carefully moved her straps back into place.
She looked up at him and tugged his hands until they were securely around her, her fingers laced with his, refusing to let go. "This is."
Mulder adjusted his position just a little bit to where Scully's head rested perfectly into the crook of his neck. Scully didn't even hesitate as she felt the warmth of his skin against her cheek as she turned just enough to leave a light, soft kiss against his jaw before settling back against him, breathing a heavy sigh.
"Yep, I should've made that bet," Max made a face as he caught a glimpse of the tenderest of moments unfold before him. "But don't worry…your secret is safe with me. I meant what I said about considering you both to be like family. Family looks out for each other."
"Can't get rid of us now, Maximus, you're stuck," Mulder wouldn't have minded either way if Max had always known and found a bit of solace in the idea that he had their back, even if it was over something like this.
"I hope it doesn't seem like a secret that is too much to bear, Max," Scully was soft voiced, somber even, as she thumbed the top of Mulder's hand over the top of her blanket. "Truly."
"Not even for a second—everyone deserves a little bit of happiness," Max continued while yawning audibly. "Even Mulder."
They smirked at the concept but the reality of allowing Max into their inner sanctum when what was blossoming between them was, in fact, still quite fresh and newborn, was more frightening of an idea than both had planned on embarking on with legs still teetering underneath of them. Scully held a little tighter to Mulder and knew that his strength was going to keep her afloat as she sorted out not only recovering from the explosion but deciding where this was meant to go. She glanced at the firelight and watched as the flames danced in a circle—two souls joining and combining, exploring one another in unison without notions or predisposed movements just like they had been navigating one another in some sense. For now, Scully felt more than comfortable knowing that in this moment that she was where she felt the safest, the most needed—in his arms.