Chapter Twenty-One: Upheaval
Title: XII
Category: Episodic/MSR
Rating: M (you'll understand why)
Summary: The truth is stranger than fiction as more details about the private life of their killer begin to emerge causing the fight to save Scully to become direr.
Post "Agua Mala" (Season 6 with mentions of "Rain King", "Two Fathers", and "One Son" Briefly and only for context purposes)
Note: "Hope begins in the dark, the stubborn hope that if you just show up and try to do the right thing, the dawn will come. You wait and watch and work: You don't give up." – Anne Lamott
"Find the place inside where there's joy, and the joy will burn out the pain" – Joseph Campbell
**Mild assault warning – no penetration involved but it's not comfortable; I apologize in advance for the nausea this will likely inflict**
Forgive where it went—it has always been intended, just never expected it to go this far.
Disclaimer: Agent Scully, Agent Mulder, Agent Skinner, Agent Fowley, Margaret Scully, and the Lone Gunmen 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 (unless, well, you've been told, then you should've expected such things)
.
.
.
4:00 PM
Lakeview Drive (Lake Barcroft)
Falls Church, VA
Scully had been unconscious since Jeanette had escaped after a perfunctory blow to the head sent everything into a tailspin shortly before the chair tipped backwards with her still strapped to it. The back of her head bounced off the floor, knocking her completely senseless. She could recall only little flashes of what followed in the hours after Jeanette got away—everything from being dragged across the cement, hearing his shouting above her, and the feel of his hands on her neck, squeezing again. She swallowed hard and felt the reminder of him choking her as her esophagus burned and her larynx felt like she had been retching for hours. The pounding followed as Scully's head turned, the back of her head rubbing against the wall, putting pressure on the knot that had formed.
It was different, this time, as she awoke to the most haunting of silences, the crackling of wood burning in the furnace along with the whirring of wind through the gaps in the doorframe to the main house. Miles had placed another piece of tape across her mouth in his haste before disappearing upstairs again, where his arguing session continued with thunderous pitch and volume. Scully tugged at her arms, but both had been secured high above her head, with no slack this time to avoid any extra movement. She looked up at the sections of restraints, the gleam of the new padlock catching just enough light to not-so-subtly inform her that she was stuck again. She took a hard look at the fresh bruising along her arms from the edge of her sleeves on up to her wrists, each one increasing with color as their size seemed to grow the closer they got to her head.
The situation was a moment's notice from panic inducing as she looked around at the room, hoping that Miles had left behind anything that was within reach of her legs as she no longer felt the heavy padlocked shackles around both. Her hopes were dashed as he seemed to have clear out everything, including the remnants of the broken chair that Jeanette had bashed him over the head with. Her body felt like it had taken a tumble down a flight of stairs, each little muscle was stinging with a pain that she couldn't quite describe. She started to settle her head back against the wall, struggling to be halfway comfortable with her hands halfway numb above her when she knew she was no longer alone. She looked up at the top of the stairs and saw her face peeking through the rails on the bannister, her pale features striking. She was in a nearly knee length baby-doll dress with little accents of pink, lace fringe along the drop sleeves and hemline. Her shoulders were bare and the sleeves only covered a section of her arm from just below the shoulder to her elbow, with frilly edges much like the hemline. It was form fitting from the top to the bottom of her breasts, hugging them close like a push up bra would have. Scully's nostrils started to flare as she saw the pretty, well maintained, red curls that came to her shoulders and those piercing blue eyes much like her own, her bright red lipstick standing out with a shimmery finish that she wasn't prepared for.
Scully started to groan against the tape, desperately trying to get the well-put-together woman to come closer and she seemed to be apprehensive yet receptive to the distressing sounds that came from Scully. She tiptoed down each step, her bare feet barely noticeable against the aged wood followed by the cement as she made her way toward a captive Scully. She looked young but not so young that her features weren't well developed—just wasn't exactly dressed her age as she looked more like a teenager than a grown adult. She looked around, the visible cautiousness written on her face, before kneeling next to Scully.
"This might hurt, I'll try to be gentle," She had a soft, melodic voice as she ran her fingernail along the edge of the tape, waiting for Scully's affirmation before pulling it off in one, quick motion.
Scully's voice was raspy as she spoke, the shakiness obvious as she looked closely at the girl. "We need to get out of here—he's going to kill us both."
"He took all of the keys, I don't know where he put the spares," She reached out and wiped a section of Scully's hair out of her face, her fingers lingering a little longer than appreciated as Scully looked at her with wide eyes.
Scully nodded toward the shelf near the sliding glass door, her fear blooming again as she felt her stomach roll. "Check that…he had boxes in there."
The young woman nodded eagerly and got to her feet, moving toward the shelf, rummaging through the contents to the point that she was pulling everything out and almost disassembling it in the process. Scully was a little concerned that she was making too much noise as she half tossed everything aside, but she was grateful that one of them wasn't shackled to the wall. The air in the basement level was different as the heat was up to an elevated level, keeping Scully from freezing to death. She was a disheveled mess from the blood down her side, on her face, and along her midsection where the bottom of her tee-shirt had been shredded by the barbed wire.
"How long have you been down here?" The girl's tone was changing, halfway dropping an octave as she looked over at Scully from behind a box as she was up to her elbow digging through it, tossing tools aside left and right.
"Wait, what?" Scully had both of her legs bent, with one tucked under the other just enough to keep her back rigid against the wall.
"You look like you've been down here awhile—I was only curious," The girl held a pair of rescue shears in her right hand as she stood straight and bit down on her lip. "I can't find anything that can help—but I saw a bunch of keys upstairs that might match if I can just see the type of lock he used."
Scully nodded her head and caught sight of the shears in her hand, her natural knack of overthinking becoming almost overwhelming as the girl hovered over her. She wiggled the lock and inadvertently put extra pressure on Scully's arms, pulling a painful yelp from her lips as she tried to lift higher to create slack. The woman slowly knelt and captured Scully's attention in the process, maintaining eye contact as her bare knees touched the floor. She set the shears on the floor next to Scully's thigh and pressed her fingers against the cement, moving them just enough to gather up some of that chlorine smell on her skin. She nudged Scully's legs forward, causing them to stretch out, her toes aiming toward the opposite wall, making her back even more flush with the wall.
"You don't know who I am, do you, Agent Scully?" the girl's voice was barely above a whisper as she leaned in, nearly nose to nose with Scully.
"No, I don't—how do you know my name?" Scully felt like she was having an out of body experience as the girl hovered far closer than she expected for a potential victim of a crime.
The smile crept across her lips like a Cheshire cat followed by a little, telling giggle. "You look so confused, Agent Scully. I'll put it this way, I wouldn't undo those shackles even if I had the key down here, sweetheart…"
"What are you talking about?" Scully was halfway to the puking point as she looked eye to eye with a woman who was slowly making a turn to a place she had only seen from Miles.
The girl ran her hand along Scully's cheek and made the curve of her chin, staring at her mouth. "I kept telling him to hurry up, do whatever he planned on doing to you, and then kill you—but he's got this crazy idea that you're just playing hard to get…Tsk, tsk…You're not playing hard to get, are you?"
"Who the fuck are you?" Scully's timbre was testy at best as she held back the urge to throttle her head against the girl's forehead, the subtlest of rage building under her fear.
The girl pushed Scully's head against the wall and slid her hand to the incredibly tender spot against her neck, applying just enough pressure to command complete attention. "You're lucky that I'm not nearly as unforgiving as Miles, princess, but I'm significantly less patient at the same time so don't push me."
"You know who I am, so, who are you?" Scully was less than patient and her throat didn't need any more abuse from anyone, even the considerably smaller, less physically intimidating one in front of her now.
"So very pretty and yet, so incredibly rude," She let her fingers go lax on Scully's neck and moved the shears from the floor across the top of Scully's thigh, the smile staying as though it was a permanent fixture on her face. "I suppose, if you must know, my name is Deanna Lynn Miller, but everyone calls me Dee. It rolls nicely off the tongue, doesn't it?"
Scully had her lips pursed together as Deanna pushed the rounded edge of the rescue shears against her inner thigh and swung her leg over her, straddling Scully's lap, the distance between them becoming more intrusive. The picture, while heavily muddled, was becoming clearer as Scully could feel the shears pressing against the inner seam of her jeans, giving a tiny, not quite subtle enough mnemonic of who was in control of more than the situation. Scully inhaled sharply as Deanna's actions were teetering on a very dangerous guessing game, the possibilities of what she could be doing with those shears were nearly endless.
"Please, don't," Scully knew, deep down, that rescue shears weren't necessarily the most capable of creating punctures, but she didn't know if Deanna was going to try to inflict a little pain regardless of that fact.
"Keep begging if you want but it really won't help you," Deanna had her left hand up against the wall next to Scully's face, leaning forward until Scully instinctively turned her face away from her, evading her. "You know I'm the reason you're in this position, right?"
"Why are you doing this?" Scully didn't want to look her in the eye as all her red flags were going off at once, the horror of who this woman was had been clicking into place like pieces of a jigsaw puzzle.
Deanna forced Scully's face forward, holding her chin in place with her thumb and index finger, her perfectly manicured nails half digging into Scully's skin as she went unbending within her grip. "Think really hard, Dana, why would my brother develop such an unbelievable hard on for a woman with red hair, blue eyes, and a name that starts with a D? Hmmmm…what could it be? Why would I make sure that one of his fantasies stayed at his fingertips? Aren't you an FBI Agent? You're really not very good at this."
"You're crazier than he is," The knot on the back of Scully's head was pressed hard against the wall as the words didn't want to leave her lips, the aching sending a shock down her spine. "You're obsessed with him more than he is with killing."
"He's not obsessed with killing—he's obsessed with being in love with an idea of a woman that would kill for him, that would die for him, not realizing that the only woman that has ever given a shit about him and would kill for him, that would die for him, has been under his nose since the beginning," Deanna's voice was raising as she tightened her grip on Scully's chin, the look in her eye intensifying with every note she spoke, "It's unnerving to keep showing him that none of you love him like I love him."
"Oh, Jesus Christ Almighty," Scully couldn't have imagined, in the worst of nightmares, that Miles not only had a sister, but one that was crazier than he was and bent on being a lot more than his blood.
"I think I get it a little bit with you, though," Deanna was wildly sexual in nature and it was obvious as she let her fingers slide painstakingly slow down Scully's neck to the curve of the vee line of her neckline. "You put up the biggest fight and you hide your appeal behind those expressive, haunting eyes…and you respond to everything, physically and verbally."
"Get it over with, psychopath," Scully didn't want to be told about her personal life by Deanna and she certainly didn't want to be touched by her either.
"Would you stop touching her, Deanna? She's not yours to touch," Miles's voice came from the bottom of the stairs, interrupting his twisted little sister from groping the object of his affection, her hands hovering at the right position to start grabbing Scully's breasts.
"No, you owe me after I got rid of the neighbor that heard all of your fucking gunshots earlier when you got a little trigger-happy over the other one getting away," Deanna waved the shears at him, keeping her left hand firmly gripping the front of Scully's shirt, almost pulling her away from the wall.
"I could've handled Mr. Peterson myself, Dee—he thinks I target practice on that tree down by the docks. I don't need you meddling in it," Miles was not amused by the recklessness of his little sister as he crossed his arms and gave her that all knowing big brother stare. "Get off of her, now."
"This one certainly is the prettiest even though she's got the shortest hair—but she dresses like a frump. Let me guess, she had on a cardigan when you snatched her?" Deanna's eyes were nearly as expressive as Scully's as she looked up at him with her poorly constructed halo teetering on the set of horns before looking back at Scully, a devilish little smile curving across her lips. "How did that partner of yours talk you out of your frumpy little cardigans and sensible jeans, princess?"
"You're worse than he is, by leaps and bounds," Scully didn't want to know how Deanna knew about Mulder, but she did, making the situation more unreasonable than uncomfortable.
"He has to take control, doesn't he? Has to pull your hair, nibble on your neck, maybe trap you in a corner?" Deanna squeezed Scully's left breast hard enough that her back pressed against the wall and the pressure sent a twinge of pain through her chest that made it hard to take another breath of air.
"Deanna, knock off the bullshit," Miles was caught somewhere between angry, horrified, and sweaty from the onset of adrenaline that surged through him from witnessing his youngest sister put her hands on Scully, an idea that hadn't even crossed his sick and twisted mind until he was confronted with seeing it. "Stop."
Deanna calmly slid the shears into the solitary front pocket of her dress and stood up straight in a smooth, sybaritic motion, her eyes on him like he was her prey. She had her hands behind her back, clasped together like she was nothing more than a child approaching a father figure after getting caught doing something that she wasn't supposed to. Miles was thoroughly done with the actions of his sister, but he was also not fully in control of the situation as she stood in front of him, her stature significantly smaller than his, and held onto the front of his shirt, playing with the buttons at mid chest level. His eyes weren't on Deanna but on Scully, who had taken to staring at the floor rather than look at the unhealthy sibling interaction going on beside her.
"Look at me, not her, or I'll take all the fun out of this and just kill her," Deanna pulled his shirt, tugging him off balance enough to get him to make eye contact with her instead of Scully. "Remember, I made sure that you had a private place to go so you could act out all of your aggression—I've gotten to hear it all and replay every tape in that little office of yours, but I'm bored now."
Oh no, she's seen everything. Scully knew in that exact moment that everything that Miles had invaded of her privacy was on display at Deanna's disposal and she had been watching it just as eagerly as he had been.
"What do you want?" Miles was incredibly weak when it came to the whims and expectations that his sister liked to throw his way even if nothing she asked for made him particularly pleased.
"I want you to go get that pretty little black dress in the closet and bring it to me," Deanna turned toward Scully, her eyes on the hem of her pants. "Prudence really needs a little change of wardrobe."
"Deanna, no," Miles rarely refused to do something, but he could tell that the way Deanna was looking at Scully was more than his mental capacity could take.
Deanna swung around and pulled the gun from his front pocket, cocked it and aimed it at Scully's forehead, her voice low and grating, her blood boiling. "You refuse me again and I'll pull the trigger."
Miles's shoulders slumped as he realized that his sister was serious, his feet barely cooperating as he went up the stairs toward the main house door. Scully almost wished that she would just hurry up and do it, avoid the suffering they both intended on inflicting on her. Miles was less than pleased with Deanna, but his weakness for her selfish desires was apparently and overwhelming for him as he dutifully did as he was told. Deanna grinned with satisfaction and carefully pushed the mechanism on the gun back before setting it onto a table as far from Scully as it could get. She was meticulous in her movements as she tiptoed back in Scully's direction, playing with the emergency shears in her front pocket with every little step she took. Scully didn't want to look at her, but she couldn't help it as she looked up at her, the panic rising in her chest.
"I hope you understand, Dana, that I always get what I want—and that includes you," Deanna resumed the same straddled position of Scully but slid her backside a bit higher on her thighs causing Scully to let out a helpless, rejecting groan. "I'm wearing shorts you fucking shrew."
"Get the hell off of me, crazy bitch," Scully was holding back the urge to shout as Deanna pressed the shears against the top of her chest, sliding them along the top of her shirt.
The sound of Miles's heavy boots coming back down the stairs put another thrilled, broad smile across Deanna's lips as she turned her head to make eye contact with her brother with the dress in his hands. "Don't look away or you'll miss all the fun, Miles."
"You're a fucking bitch, Dee," Miles stood there, sweat forming on his forehead as his sister was sliding the shears along Scully's clothes, taunting her with them.
"And you fucking love me, don't you, Miles?" Deanna made the first sliding cut of one of Scully's pantlegs almost all the way to her knee, her eyes watching the involuntary goosebumps form all over Scully's skin from the cold metal touching her leg.
"Fuck you, little sister," Miles muttered as Deanna adjusted her seated position and did the same action on the other pantleg, this time looking up at him with her lip between her teeth.
It was enough to make Scully's skin crawl as the torture had become very carnal as Deanna cut her jeans all the way to her thigh on both sides before pulling on the bottom of Scully's shirt. She slowly cut the soft, stretchy material of the tee-shirt up beyond Scully's stomach, her pale skin peeking out from beneath the black fabric. Scully felt truly exposed as Deanna cut the last bit of the front of her shirt, letting the material fall open. She would've given anything for Mulder to burst through the glass at that moment and put a premature end to Deanna's fun, but her hopes were fruitless as she felt the shears against her left shoulder, just over the bra strap, prepping to remove what was left of the shirt.
"Maybe you aren't a prude after all—just look at that little, black bra with all that lace," Deanna cut the sleeves open on the shirt and pulled the material away, fully revealing Scully's vulnerable, ordinarily well-hidden body. "I bet you have on the pretty black panties to match, huh, kitten?"
"Go fuck yourself," Scully had tears running down her cheeks again despite the indignation growing in her tone.
Deanna held onto the side of Scully's pants and started to snip away at the denim on one hip until it met the other line she started, popping one of Scully's legs completely free of her own clothing. She bit down on her lip, holding back another whimper, and felt the shears on the other side of her pants cutting away the last of the material that kept her covered up. Deanna set the shears aside and lifted her hips, creating a gap between her body and Scully's thighs, before pulling the denim away, in one motion. Deanna was drawn in to the large bruises across the top of Scully's thighs and knew that the explosion caused them. She purposely put more of her own weight on them and listened to the closed mouth gasping, watched Scully's nostrils flare with every little flinch of pain she inflicted. Miles was bearing witness to the undressing of Scully and his conflicting impression of it was more than clear as he clenched his fist, bit down on his lip, and continued to sweat bullets, his eyes locked on staring at Scully's small, strong frame underneath of his sister.
"No wonder your partner couldn't keep his hands off of you," Deanna was more interested in pissing off Miles than she was delivering a compliment to Scully as her eyes lingered a little too long over her in nothing more than her bra and panties. "Just look at you in your matched set begging to be seen, pretending you don't like to be touched…does he really fall for that bullshit?"
"I swear if I get the chance, I'll kill you myself," Scully couldn't hold back the words as she felt Deanna's fingers invading the outside of her bra, violating what didn't belong to her, what wasn't hers to touch.
Deanna was enthralled by the throaty, angry tone coming from Scully as she leaned in, whispering in her ear. "Keep telling yourself that, sweetie."
Scully hadn't been this humiliated by a suspect before and she hadn't fully prepared herself for the possibility of anyone catching her with her guard down long enough to succeed at it. She felt her gag reflex respond as the unwelcomed sensation of Deanna's teeth dragging down her neck. It was unnerving, and she didn't have much range of motion left as she tried to push her shoulder forward to break the contact. Deanna half growled at the attempt and pushed Scully's head back directly underneath of her chin, resuming the same motion closer to the front of her neck, leaving heavy traces of red lipstick all over Scully's pale skin tone, knowing that she could feel the sticky texture. Scully whimpered in spite of herself and closed her eyes, the tears dragging down her cheeks with every assaulting move that Deanna made. She knew that this was what Jeanette had experienced and that they had now experienced a link that could imprint on a soul for the rest of their lives—simply from the trauma.
"Give me the dress, Miles," Deanna looked over at her brother and held out her hand, the determination written on her face, her red lips a little less shimmery as most of the color had rubbed off on Scully's skin.
Miles approached and made the mistake of making eye contact with Scully, causing his stomach to turn and his heart to sink as he saw the look of pure hatred and disgust written on her face. Deanna pulled the dress from his fingers and undid the back of it as well as the button closures along the thin straps before sliding off of Scully's legs. Deanna's hands wandered again, lingering over Scully's stomach, creeping along the waistband of her panties as though she were purposely taunting Scully with the mere idea of removing them. She pinched the wounds on her side and watched Scully wince with pain as the blood oozed just a little bit from the larger sections. She was truly worse than her brother as she took a little bit of joy in seeing her in pain, the suffering was considerable and continuous. She pulled the dress onto her legs and maneuvered it up toward her hips, almost adjusting her like a living doll she could manipulate in any way she saw fit.
"Lift up your hips," Scully had heard those words before, but the context was different and heartbreaking as they came from Deanna instead of Mulder.
Scully did as instructed as her fingers grasped the chain above her head to give enough leverage to lift her weak hips into the air while Deanna pulled the dress into the position it was intended to be. The material was thin, almost see through, and was shorter than the dress that Deanna was wearing but not by much. It was loose fitting from the middle of Scully's ribs down, flowing out and over the top of the satin section underneath. It left little to the imagination as Deanna zipped up the back and affixed the button closures on the thin shoulder straps that barely covered the bra straps. Scully looked down at the dress and felt more naked now than she had before it went on. Deanna must've been to the deprived point as she straddled Scully again, feeling her up to adjust the dress while also encouraging more unpleasant expressions and sounds out of Scully, the tears falling more heavily with every exhalation. Scully glanced at Miles and couldn't help but notice the change in his demeanor as he was breathing heavily and had taken an interest in her appearance, his eyes lingering over the hem of the dress where it mingled close to Deanna's legs. He was more than a little interested.
"Dee, go check the scanners," Miles had a huskiness in his voice that sent a ripple of chills down Scully's back.
Deanna turned her head toward him and glared, the fire burning in her eyes. "I'm not going upstairs, Miles—I like seeing how upset I'm making her. Just look at her tears."
"Go check the scanners—we lost one and if she made it to the cops I'm not running the risk of them sneaking up on us," Miles was looking at Scully as her chest heaved, the frustration and anger brewing within her.
Deanna stood up and got his face, the anger brewing in her as she started to shout. "I got you all of your cameras and made sure that you had plenty of meds to keep all of them unconscious during transport! I am not going to sit by—"
Miles cut off her rant, pulling her onto her tiptoes, mouth finding hers like it had been there before countless times, arms enfolding her like a lover would have. The initial shock wore off and she returned the embrace, the kiss, the fervor, searching his back, clutching onto him like he had disappeared and returned to her. It wasn't right, in as many words, but it was necessary as he was appeasing her—a means to an end despite the implications of knowing what he had given her, knowing what she was after. He was focused on alleviating part of the fixation, to take back part of the control, even if it meant doing something he didn't actually want to do. Her eyes were closed but his were not as he was looking beyond her, at Scully, as the ripple effect drove through him like a truck, reminding him of what he was at his core—a monster capable of manipulation.
"Jesus," Scully didn't even want to look as she felt the puke in her mouth over the peripheral image of a brother making out with his sister.
Miles pulled away slowly, the remnants of Deanna's lipstick now on him, his eyes on his little sister with a more narrowed, decisive aim. "Go upstairs…"
"Just one more thing before I go," Deanna looked drunk as she bit down on the corner of her lip before turning toward Scully, her eyes still on Miles. "Please?"
He nodded and watched as his sexually charged sister knelt next to Scully again, her hands sliding through her hair, directing her head to one side. Deanna was a mess, but she was determined as she looked up at him again and slid her tongue up the side of Scully's face, lingering next to the edge of her eyebrow. Scully shuddered as the position her head was in gave her no wiggle room as Deanna waited another moment to get to her feet. She stared Miles down again, licked her lips, took the second set of keys from his outstretched hand, and walked up the stairs, disappearing into the main house. Miles shuddered as he could hear the locks being secured from the other side as his eyes fell on Scully, the switch flipped, the monster revealed.
Miles liked the way she looked in the dress, was scintillated by the way the bruises were barely covered on her thighs, and thoroughly enjoyed seeing her looking so much more doll-like and innocent than she had before. He slid out of his heavy jacket with the keys and her gun in it, setting it off to the side before stepping forward toward her. Scully locked her legs together and struggled with the restraints as he put each of his boots on either side of her, trapping her movements just enough to frighten her. His eyes were almost glazed over as he knelt down, straddling her in a similar fashion to the way that Deanna had, causing her to instantly panic under his weight.
"No, no, no, no, don't do this," Scully had her eyes clamped shut as she could already feel his hands running down her arms, from the palms down toward her shoulders.
"You know he'll never be able to make you feel the way that I can make you feel…if you'd just stop teasing me," Miles was lost in that wave of attempted seduction as his vocal modulation had slipped deeper while his hands made their way across the top of her cleavage.
Scully's eyes opened and her mouth got the better of her as she let the words slip out even though it was likely to get her in trouble. "I'd call you a mother fucker but we all know it's more like sister fucker."
Miles hated being ridiculed by women and she was no exception as the words broke through his exterior and caused him to lose his patience once again. He thought about hitting her like he had earlier but she didn't seem at all intimidated by him like she had been earlier on when his hands were squeezing the life out of her. She had a deepening glare, fully throwing daggers in his direction, right through him. The irritated frown upon his lips became a devilish grin that gave Scully very little warning as he slid backwards, lifted partially off of her and grabbed her by the hips, lifting her into the air until her arms bent at the elbows involuntarily and aimed forward. His strength was intimidating as he held onto her like she weighed next to nothing and forced himself between her legs, pushing the dress material into an awkward bunch between them. His fingers were almost coiled against her thighs, pushing the dress higher on her thigh until the curve of his palm was pressed hard against her skin, bruising her already wounded legs. She let out a loud, assertive cry as the pain radiated through her and reality set in, knowing exactly what he was trying to do to her.
"I'm what, Dana? I couldn't hear over all of that noise," Miles pushed himself against her, fully expecting to coax more loud cries and tears of humiliation from her as he did what he previously swore he'd never do—attempt to violate her.
"If you really needed a place to go, Alabama is ok with what you two are doing," Scully was angry as she could feel everything but refused to allow him to win.
Deep in her core, Scully knew that a second reference to his highly incestuous relationship with his sister was going to be more than he could take as she watched the vein in his forehead pop out. The thought sunk in as he battled between knowing he was a half of a second from taking what he wanted from Scully and replaying kissing Deanna in his head. The conflict sent him into a tailspin as he slid his less skilled left hand to her neck, pushing his thumb against her throat, dangerously pressing into her windpipe again while his hips desperately tried to maintain that unpleasant, uninvited connection. Scully could barely see and now she couldn't breathe but the window of opportunity was there to get him at his weakest as his balance was completely compromised. Scully violently moved her right leg until it slid down toward the floor where she had just enough leverage to do what she knew would double him over in pain. She kneed him hard in the groin and let out a guttural groan as his grip on her neck finally stopped. He made an inhale before any noise left his lips, in an exhaling growl before he stumbled backwards, letting go of her fully, dropping her.
"Shit," Scully gasped as both of her knees smacked hard against the cement floor and sent a spasm of pain up her body.
"You're going to want to hurry up whatever you're doing down there, Miles," Deanna's voice was just as unpleasant to hear as he rolled to the corner with his hands cradling his crotch as he had now been kicked more times than necessary by his standards. "The other girl survived. They've got search crews looking for their missing Agent all over the lake…you don't have much time."
.
.
.
.
5:15 PM
Waterway Drive Lake House (Lake Barcroft)
Falls Church, VA
Mulder and Max pulled into the driveway of the large home on the 6000 block of Waterway Drive and looked around at all of the incredibly upscale homes in the neighborhood. The people that lived in this area were not lower class or even middle class citizens—they were all the upper tier kinds of people that spent great deals of money for privacy, for luxury. The Lake Barcroft area wasn't the "high crime" sort of area; it was a planned community of people that knew their neighbors from the moment of groundbreaking until they vacated the premises via moving on or up. It was almost too perfect of a place to hide away in the darkness and create a seedy underbelly without anyone catching a whiff of it. The sun was dipping behind the skyline to the west as it was setting, casting the surroundings in shadow and instilling that deep rooted fear in the pit of Mulder's stomach over the length of time she had been missing. Nearly twelve hours. Max could hear and see the flashing lights from the FBI and local police still trolling through the waters looking for evidence. It was not the largest of lakes but it had a large area to cover and they didn't fully know what direction Jeanette had traveled in nor was the boat registered to anyone.
"Which sister is staying here?" Max knew that Mulder had a mental list of the names as his expression was driven and steady as they pressed the doorbell.
"Drea Miller, the third sister, she's 33 years old," Mulder was a bit relieved that the black top was starting to peek out a little bit through the snow, giving subtle hints that the air was beginning to warm back up enough to melt some of the accumulation.
The inherited home belonging to the Miller daughters was large, uniquely built with hints of architecture that rivaled some of the modernist designs done by Frank Lloyd Wright that remained in the Southwestern area. Mulder rang the doorbell a 2nd time and could hear the eager footsteps from inside, bare against hardwoods, followed by the muffled, female voice shouting "hold on, hold on, just a second" before the locks were undone and the porch light turned on, illuminating the space they were standing in with a bright, white light. The door swung open with a little bit of enthusiasm and they were met by a braless redhead with shocking blue eyes, with stronger, more pronounced curves than Deanna. She was in a pair of loose fitting, Navy blue warm ups and a black tank top, with equally well manicured, shimmering silver nails on both her hands and feet. She awkwardly crossed her arms, hiding the physical response to the cold but also inadvertently pushing her chest a little higher into the air, making her clearly visible 'v' shaped scar more pronounced across the curve of her cleavage.
"Can I help you?" She had a higher pitched voice than Deanna but the inflections were similar as she stood in the doorway, the goosebumps forming on her arms as the chilly wafted over her skin.
Mulder and Max flashed their badges, with Mulder speaking first. "I'm Agent Fox Mulder and this is Agent Max Belle with the FBI – we're actually here because your older sister Delilah mentioned that you might have some information on your brother, Miles. We just need to ask you a few questions if you have a moment?"
She didn't reach out to shake either of their hands as the perky smile weakened; her stance heavily guarded as though didn't know which one to make eye contact with. "I should've guessed this was going to come back eventually to haunt all of us—look, Agent Mulder, my brother is a great manipulator and an even greater liar. He screwed up the dynamics between all of us girls to the point that Delilah is a chain smoking bitch, Danielle is a recluse that spends most of her time going to work and going home, and Deanna…well, Deanna has completely lost her fucking mind."
"Where does that leave you, then, Drea?" Max found the opportunity to speak up, the gentlest of tones coming through in his voice as it hung on her name like it was familiar, just to soften up the bitterness from dredging up her memories.
She blushed and kicked a piece of lint in front of her on the hardwood floor, clearing her throat as she struggled with the words. "Not that it's really pertinent but I've had a few…issues with doing not entirely appropriate things in public spaces."
"Wait, what?" Max didn't mean to question it out loud but he did, his confusion written all over his face like he had been stamped with it.
Mulder turned his head and lowered his voice, attempting to only be heard by Max. "Maximus, she's been arrested for public sex acts."
"Just the exposure part but we don't need to get into the technicalities," Drea's smile was mischievous and more than Max could necessarily process as he tried not to make direct eye contact with her while Mulder contemplated the laughter resting at the back of his brain.
Max looked like a deer in the headlights again as the words took a minute to fully sink into his brain, his mouth agape for a second until Mulder nudged him in the back. Max made a face and blushed himself as he caught her looking at him, purposely dropping her hands just enough that he could definitely tell how chilly she was. She certainly wasn't shy and there wasn't much need to play coy when she knew one of them was stumbling a little off kilter over her bad behavior. Mulder rolled his eyes over how utterly naïve Max was but found it a little amusing that it was that easy to push him out of his comfort zone.
"Miss Miller, that's not really what we needed to ask you about—we need to know the whereabouts of your bother, not your sisters," Mulder took back the command of the conversation, restoring the seriousness and severity of the topic as he furrowed his brow at Max.
"Please call me Drea…the only one that likes any fucking formality is Delilah because her name should really rhyme with PUNT and end in Zilla," Drea rolled her eyes and resumed crossing her arms for warmth this time. "Would you both come in so I can prevent my extremities from becoming blocks of ice? I promise I don't bite."
They both nodded and she moved a little faster toward the living space, her feet making that half slap-half tapping noise with every step she took. She shivered visibly as she reached for the sweatshirt off of the back of the couch, pulling it over her head immediately. Mulder stood in the doorway for a second longer and nudged Max in the back again as he caught him unintentionally staring at Drea's ass while she pulled the sweatshirt on. Mulder was caught somewhere between tickled and annoyed by Max's inability to put on a poker face as they both entered the home that Drea occupied, trying to pick up on any subtle hints that she may have been concealing part of the truth in her story. Mulder looked around at the sparse, yet intricate design work of the shelves, the media center, and the furniture—all of which were very feminine yet minimalist. It didn't really have any traces of a messy plumber in the building nor anything resembling something masculine—like she kept that part of her life away from her home life or considered it to be a liability.
"Can I get either of you coffee, tea, water…shots?" Drea slid her hands into the front pouch of the sweatshirt and turned toward them, her hand against the back of a fluffy chair near the door to the deck.
"That won't be necessary, thank you," Mulder shook his head and glanced at the photograph of all four girls together on a table next to the kitchen doorway.
Drea pulled one of the chairs out from the table and sat down, crossing her legs while struggling to keep her feet warm under the extra-long warm ups she was wearing, looking directly at Max this time just to watch him squirm. "Seriously, I don't bite unless you're into that sort of thing, I swear…have a seat."
Her wit was unbelievable considering the kind of details that they knew of her childhood but her admission of illegal activities was the part that brought her back to a more human level as they both sat down at the kitchen table. Mulder was finding it difficult to separate the issue as he couldn't help but see the shocking similarities between all of the girls and Scully—down to the body type and skin tone. She had the same wry smile but none of the quirks to match the woman that had captivated him so willingly for six years. Scully wasn't a copy of someone's sister—she was Scully, right down to her toes, and it was in that moment that he knew Miles hadn't figured that out yet.
"Agent Mulder, you're far away—are you going to stop beating around the bush or continue to act like my brother didn't go and do something terrible again?" Drea had a glass of hot tea in front of her on the table that she had made before they arrived that was still steaming, the lemon floating in the top as she wiggled her spoon in it, making eye contact with him.
"You certainly don't pull your punches do you, Drea," Mulder was taken aback by the directness of this woman who had endured so much in her life.
Drea nodded and ran a hand through her long curls, letting them fall a little bit off to one side of her face as she spoke. "When you have spent the better part of your life hearing that you're a victim and that you're doomed to be unhappy because you have scars all over your body, you tend to drop all necessity for glittering it up with useless bullshit. I suppose that's why I'm alone."
"If you insist on the directness, I can go there—your brother is a suspect in the serial killings of nine different women, two additional attempted murders, and one, at large, abduction a twelfth victim. The missing woman is an FBI agent that has red hair, blue eyes, and is petite in stature, not unlike yourself or your sisters, for that matter," Mulder rattled it off and watched the horror appear on her face like someone was playing the reel of her life in front of her, only this time it was a poorly done sequel that she had to watch unfold from the outside. "We need to know where he'd go—if you've seen him."
"Unlike Delilah and Danielle, I haven't really wanted to kill my brother. I'd rather see him societally pay for what he did to all of us but I also can't say that what happened wasn't years in the making at the same time. I've underwent a lot of counseling and psychiatric sessions just to admit that this was reality, Agent Mulder, but our mother was the true monster," Drea sipped her tea and held the warm cup between her fingers, staring at the floating lemon while she grappled with it. "She did horrible things to Miles from the time he was barely able to talk—all of us girls grew up knowing what the words 'mother's little pet' meant and we didn't have any furry little pets running around."
Mulder swallowed hard at the traumatic, deep seeded revelation of what created the devil that took Scully, the frustration mixing with confusion as he no longer knew how to feel about the situation. He watched as Drea took another deep breath, her eyes glassing over from the emotional tugging at her heartstrings despite doing so much to keep them at bay safely for so long. She forced a smile and looked at both of them, wiping her eyes instinctively as she felt a few stray tears streaking down her cheeks, hiding away the emotion.
"Don't mistake my emotion for empathy or even sympathy for my brother—I tried, many years ago, to get him help after the Canton's adopted his monstrous ass but he outright refused. Claimed that the medication was all he needed to stay stable. He was telling them that he was seeing a counselor but in reality, he's been spending time with Deanna every couple of days," Drea gathered herself up, set the cup on the table and retrieved a tissue from a box on the countertop. "When I tell you that my little sister has lost her fucking mind, I really wish I were joking."
"When did she start spending inordinate amounts of time with him, Drea?" Max could see the sadness taking her over in a tug of war between guilt and anger.
"It's been the better part of the last decade, Agent Belle, around seven years ago. I tried to play go between and keep them from being alone together but she leaves constantly—and she's 31, she should know better and I'm not her babysitter," Drea was itching for a cigarette as she spilled the beans about her fucked up family.
"Do you know where she'd go with him?" Mulder looked at her, noticing the shakiness of her hands almost immediately.
Drea nodded and wrote down the address to the other lake house, handing the piece of paper to him. "Danielle and Delilah won't go there because it needs so many renovations but it was our grandparents' house on our father's side and they passed away about a year ago. They were the ones that raised us after our mom was finally locked up for child abuse not long after Miles went to the juvenile detention center. It was kind of the only place we ever felt safe other than this house. I haven't seen the keys to the other lake house since Deanna disappeared two weeks ago…"
"Disappeared?" Max was hung up on the word as she took another sip of her tea.
"I told her to stop sneaking him into the house about three weeks ago after I caught them..." She tried not to audibly gag but she couldn't help it as the thought crossed her mind before the words finished. "I caught them touching each other, sans the clothing. Deanna went ballistic on me, kept calling me jealous amongst other things. I spent four hours scrubbing literally every surface in this house."
"Not your brand of fetish I take it," Mulder couldn't pass up the opportunity as he witnessed Drea's skin half crawling, the subtle shade of gray forming on her face as she was clearly getting sick to her stomach.
Drea rolled her eyes and crossed her arms. "Agent Mulder, I have a how long can I have sex in public without getting caught issue, not an incest issue—that's beyond disgusting—oh, wait, you're just making fun of me. Ass."
"I can't take you anywhere," Max held back the urge to laugh but couldn't help but notice as Drea's face was turning pink over Mulder's ill-conceived yet well-delivered sex joke in regards to one of the earliest of Miles's victims in his sister.
"Does the missing FBI Agent really resemble me and my sisters?" Drea was a little relieved at the joke even though she was grappling with the idea that her sister could be involved in something like this with Miles.
"A little more than I'd like to admit, actually," Mulder nodded, his mind already wishing she was in his arms, safe again.
"I think I have something you both need to see. Don't move," Drea got up and ran down the hallway, a shocked, concentrating stare on her face as she disappeared around the corner.
"I'm worried about Scully," Max verbalized what Mulder was feeling in his bones as the quiet returned to the space minus the dull echo of rummaging in a room in the back.
Mulder rubbed the bridge of his nose as the headache returned, sending a dull, aching pang through the space between his eyes, reminding him all over again of the sand falling through the cracks as time slipped away. "I am, too, Max…but this shit, while convoluted and worrying, gets us that much closer to finding her safe."
"What happens if the youngest sister has been helping him the entire time?" Max spotted another photograph of the girls—each of them with their hair long and in ringlets, dressed up like they were participants in a wedding.
Mulder made eye contact with Max, the words not wanting to sink in as a possible truth but they held weight and stuck out like a sore thumb amongst a seemingly perfect surface. Denying it was part of that defense mechanism but it wasn't helping them now. Drea came back into the room carrying a shoe box and set it on the table in front of them, standing between their chairs while she opened it with a certain amount of hesitation.
She breathed another sigh as she took a step back, leaving them to thumb through the box at their own pace. "I found these when I was cleaning out her bedroom after she left—there's more than just redheads, though, but all of them are labeled like they were rated. I always thought that maybe my little sister Dee was just a closet lesbian but, maybe it was something else?"
"Did you just say Dee?" Mulder hadn't started looking through the stack of photos but Max was going through them while he looked at Drea with a little bit of terror written on his face.
"Yeah, that's her nickname since we were babies, why?" Drea couldn't understand the gravity of the name her sister went by but she could tell it was a problem by the look on Mulder's face.
"The only surviving victims have been called that name more than once during their torture," Mulder glanced at his feet, the empathy for this woman rising as he watched the sadness reappear on her face again.
"Torture?" Drea hiked up her sleeve and showed him her arm, the numerous little scars where slashes had been, the tears finally falling like petals off of a wilting flower. "Sort of like how these might've been given?"
Mulder nodded and noticed the sheer number of them just on one arm, the aching in his heart increasing as his mind was still on Scully enduring anything similar. "Like that—and worse."
"Oh son of a bitch…Mulder, look," Max was livid as he almost dropped the photo in his hand, the anger written on his face as he pushed it across the table toward him.
Mulder didn't want to look but he had to as he straightened his back and focused on the photograph in front of him on the table. He wanted to vomit as the words were across the bottom in bold "the favorite" along with a numerical one next to it, his eyes not wanting to follow the rest of the photograph as he knew, in his heart, who it was of. The gasp that left Mulder's lips was bordering on audible as he moved his eyes up the photo and saw the expression on her face. It was one of those "you're kidding me, right?" expressions that she did so well and so often. He could see image quite clearly, like it was yesterday, of her standing in front of that water logged display in Kroner, Kansas after witnessing sparks quite literally flying for Sheila and Holman. He knew the photograph well because he took the picture and nearly got the taste slapped out of him for the effort since he thoughtlessly, yet purposely replaced "say cheese" with "guess who's sleeping in your room tonight, Scully?" loud enough that more than a few people could hear him. He didn't care, though – he liked looking at her that night—he always liked looking at her.
"Oh, Jesus Christ, are you ok?" Drea's voice brought him back to Earth and he hadn't realized that he was halfway to tears as he was tracing her face with his index finger.
"I took this photo of her when we were on a case not too long ago—I didn't think she kept it, though, since she made that face in it and she doesn't like anyone seeing that face," Mulder swallowed hard and realized they really had been running from each other for a long time that he didn't realize the littlest of things that made him wild about her. "It's one of her best expressions."
"Mulder, we need to go to the other lake house, it's the best shot we have," Max gathered up the photographs and slid them into the box, replacing the lid before making eye contact with Drea. "Can we take these? It has photos of every victim…"
"Take it—I don't want any part of what they're doing. I know what that kind of torture is like and I can imagine he's gotten more skilled since his testicles dropped," Drea knew that her lack of a filter might've been a problem but she didn't care anymore as they both got to their feet with Max carrying the box of photographs.
"We appreciate everything that you've told us even if it wasn't the easiest of information to divulge about your family members, Drea," Mulder was walking toward the door, glancing back at them as she followed them with her hands firmly in the pouch of her sweatshirt again.
"I stopped being able to help Dee and Miles a long time ago, Agent Mulder, and I don't want to see anyone else get hurt…knowing that he's killed someone makes this so much harder," Drea pulled her right hand from the pouch and looked out at the snow that had fallen in the last ten minutes as it glowed in the dark like a childhood nightlight. "How do I contact you if I have anything else that could be helpful?"
"Oh, Max, give her one of your cards in case she needs anything," Mulder winked at Max just out of Drea's field of vision, witnessing the flushed coloration instantly form on Max's cheeks all over again as he took the box of photos from him so he'd have free hands to do so.
Drea bit the corner of her lip as she slid her feet into a pair of slippers and walked a few feet into the driveway just as Max was digging through his coat pocket looking for his cards. He looked a little antsy and clumsy with his tongue between his teeth again, sticking out just enough from between his lips as he caught Drea staring at him from less than two feet from him. She wiggled in her slippers up on her toes then back down again, almost in a bouncing motion, making it that much more difficult for his cards to release from his pocket. She wouldn't have admitted it but there was something awfully sweet about his genuinely clumsy, easy to tease nature—it drew her in and the feeling hadn't been there for quite a long time.
"If you don't hurry up and hand me one of those cards I'm going to take this sweatshirt off again, Agent Belle," Drea knew she was making him nervous as he nearly choked on his tongue and bit down just hard enough on the edge of it to make his eyes water.
He pulled one free, finally, and put his hand out with it perched between his index and middle finger, a bit relieved that he didn't start stuttering like he'd never spoken to a woman before this moment. "It was stuck."
Drea purposely let her fingers linger over Max's as she took the card, her eyes locked onto his like a girl with a crush. "Uh huh…a likely story. So is this your cell number, Agent Belle?"
Max nervously nodded, swallowed hard and spoke but the sound that came out resembled a teenager going through puberty as his tone cracked just slightly. "If you have anything just let me know."
Mulder was already in the driver's seat waiting on his clumsy, teenaged oaf that was now practically useless as he fumbled with the door handle before getting into the passenger seat. It was cute but a little pathetic as the urgency momentarily failed while Mulder carefully pulled out of the driveway, glancing over at the still pink cheeked Max sitting in the passenger seat with his seatbelt carefully buckled. Mulder let out a laugh like it was one of the most necessary laughs of his life, catching Max off guard enough that he fidgeted and stared at him with his brow furrowed.
"What is so funny?" Max crossed his arms like an indignant little brother getting interrogated by the older, more experienced brother after witnessing more than he should have.
"I'm going to have to bail you out of jail for sex on a park bench, aren't I?" Mulder was still cackling, the words almost hard to understand underneath of the laughter as he started driving in the direction of the other lake house.
"I'm going to pretend as though you haven't just opened your mouth at all – that you're just stressed out over Scully, kind of like PTSD," Max was embarrassed and a little flabbergasted even though Mulder was never the type to hold his tongue prior to this so why would it be shocking?
Mulder inhaled, and the laughing slowed to a dull hiss as he held his mouth shut while his diaphragm relaxed. "Maximus, you've got a fetish for redheads…just say it."
"So do you!" Max couldn't figure out anything else to say as Mulder was following the dark, slightly icy road around in a meandered half circle, following the water's edge through the middle of the upscale neighborhoods.
"Only one, Maximus, only one," Mulder shot him a look and tapped on the steering wheel, his eyes on the road. "And she should be sitting in this car right now helping me make fun of you."
"We're about six minutes away…I think. Shit, these streets are all winding and convoluted out here," Max was already turned around backwards even though Mulder seemed to know exactly where he was driving.
"I've been here before, but not since the big development went in with all of these million dollar homes—we are about ten minutes out and have to cross over about four other of these winding streets before we get to the block we need," Mulder shook his head and glanced toward the water, where he could see the flashing lights of the police boats still actively searching. "Do me a favor, call it in…we need Skinner nearby in case of backup."
"Shit, yeah, that's a good idea," Max went through his phone and dialed, holding the phone up to his ear. "Skinner? It's Max…yeah, we might need backup…spoke to one of the younger sisters and she gave us a viable address on Lakeview Drive, the house belongs to the sisters…Miles might have help from the youngest…Yes…No, he's ok...Just look for the SUV."
"Skinner worried about me?" Mulder waited until the phone was back in Max's lap to speak, the obviousness in the answer.
"No more than the usual—don't do anything stupid, don't get yourself killed," Max didn't realize how much they had become a bit like a stereotypical family despite the need to stay on that edge of professionalism. "Find the son of a bitch before I do—we'll bring her home."
Brilliant, bald bastard. Mulder smiled at the sentiments of his supervisor knowing exactly what he would need to hear even if the words weren't being spoken directly to him. Skinner had a knack for painting a picture of returning things to normal, even when the situation seemed so dark, depressing, and ominous.
The house peeked out from the edge of street as Mulder turned onto the section of Lakeview Drive where the old, yet sizeable home could be seen from the road, the misgiving rising in his belly as he pulled into the driveway and turned off the headlights. It looked just as he imagined it would be – needing massive renovations with some of the windows boarded up or blacked out, front door with one of those heavy, modified storm door acting like a shield in front of it. He could see the small windows to the basement level with bars on the outside, all reinforced by cement inlay. He swallowed hard as he slid out of the SUV with his hand on his holster to remind himself that it was there. The situation already felt off as everything was dark around the house, down to the city required lighting at the beginning of driveways especially in planned communities.
"Max, are you armed?" Mulder's voice was hushed, the cloud of steam rising off of him as heat met cold with every breath.
Max moved the side of his coat away from his holster and nodded. "I really don't want to have to use it but I will if I have to."
"Well, personally, I hope you don't have to but in the off chance, don't miss," Mulder flipped the button of his holster off, making his gun easier to readily remove if need be.
Max rolled his eyes as he approached the house next to Mulder. "I did excellent on the range—don't judge."
"I need you on that end of the house, watch for my signal in case anything goes…batshit," Mulder was looking at this as a tactical rescue mission and not an interview as he sent Max toward the end of the house where the office was located.
Max took a slightly elongated path all the way to a section of shrubs, ducking down behind them until he was less than visible, even to Mulder. Mulder was slow in his approach to the front door of the house as he glanced at each part of the house—the exposed windows, the boarded up windows, and the upstairs window that seemed to have a thicker than normal ledge on it meant for planter boxes. His eyes lingered on it as his boots brushed up against the steps, bringing his focus toward the front door. The two steps up to the door were ones that had his head swimming as he aggressively knocked on the exposed metal storm door, the rattle echoing into the night air. He stood there for a moment, listening carefully to the quiet that followed but could hear the distant rustling of objects inside, like someone was purposely trying not to be heard. He knocked again, this time with a little more pep and loudness behind his knuckles. He could hear that same kind of barefoot against hardwood floor sound nearing the door, the feminine voice following behind each step clearly shushing someone else in the house. Each lock was undone from the inside and made a loud click as it was moved until the door finally gave way, then opened far enough for half of her silhouette to be seen from the outside.
"Um, yes, what do you want?" Deanna's unamused voice was coming out as she looked Mulder up and down through the storm door, her lipstick still a mess around her puffy lips.
She was exactly as he pictured, right down to the baby doll dress that looked as though it had recently gotten dirty near the bottom. "Ma'am, I'm Agent Mulder and we were in the area with local police on a call about gun shots earlier, we're just doing a quick sweep of the area to make sure no one was hurt and to see if anyone may have seen or heard where they were coming from."
Her devilish smile appeared again, the little bit of aggression hiding behind her eyes as she fidgeted, playing with the door handle. "Oh, I just figured it was crazy Mr. Peterson again chasing his ugly ass wife with the shot gun—did someone get shot, Agent Mulder?"
"We're just following up with the lead, standard procedure and protocol," Mulder's voice carried, his intonation had volume and caused her to instinctively block the door despite how futile that attempt would be.
"What a pity that they make you do this out in the snow, Agent Mulder, it must be absolutely freezing out there," Deanna was now playing coy, her fingers coiling around one of her ringlets. "Could you use a hot cup of coffee? Tea? Might make the next couple of houses a lot easier?"
"No that won't be necessary…I'm sorry, I didn't catch your name, what was it Miss?" Mulder was probing for her to confirm her name, anything to give him that one signal, while his ears were carefully listening as the sound of a chain clanging against itself made him give pause for a moment.
"It's Deanna Miller, Agent Mulder, but you can call me anything you like," Deanna was flirting, blatantly, and it made Drea's comments about her that much more real as she seemed to have no concept of reality.
"So it's just been you at the residence today, Miss Miller?" Mulder purposely chose her formal name and watched her eye twitch with irritation at the insistence on keeping it businesslike.
"I mean, you can come inside and search the place but it's just been me all day, Agent Mulder—me and my pretty little kitten, Princess, but she's been kind of nasty today," Deanna was referencing Scully right under his nose as she giggled in Mulder's direction.
"Just stay inside, ma'am, if anything strange happens be sure to contact us," Mulder nodded in her direction and moved toward the SUV, waiting to hear the door shut before gesturing toward Max, who was hiding behind one of the hedges next to the house.
Max met him at the SUV, keeping his voice at a whisper level, the confusion apparent and visible on his face. "That was a little too quick."
"Saying that little sister Miller is nuts might not be appropriate, she's got something rattling around up there that is sending up the red flag—she was far too willing to let me search the house and I could see a pair of utility boots right next to her feet that were definitely meant for a man," Mulder glanced back at the door to make sure it was still secured shut before continuing his train of thought. "Please tell me you have a toolbox in the back of the SUV?"
"Yeah, why?" Max had a sideways, nervous look on his face as he could see the smoke signals coming off of Mulder as the wheels were turning in his brain.
"I'm going to need a way into that house without getting caught."
.
.
.
.
Oh my goodness—please don't be mad I did another cliffhanger! You'll see why! 22 is already 3 pages deep and this was 18 pages long! EEK! I love you all for sticking it out and the journey is so worth it. I am fully expecting the vast number of "ew, gross" and "The Lannister twins would be proud" messages from you.
.
Yes, I made myself uncomfortable.
No, I'm not proud of myself.
Okay, that might be a lie but you know what I mean. I'll get 22 up as fast as I can to erase the mental torture...I need a shower.