Author's Note: Later than my typical weekend review, but a little longer so I hope you forgive me. Thanks IAmLoisLane for your rad beta skillz :) Everyone else, thank you, and please let mebknow what you hate and what you love.
As she and Mulder drove through a beautiful upper-class residential neighborhood in Ocala, Scully's mind was tugged back to the time a few months before when they'd gone undercover in suburbia. While the case had been difficult, living with Mulder had been damn near impossible. But it was a tradeoff because, hoo-boy, was he cute in khakis and a polo.
"Is it just me or does this place remind you of The Falls?" Mulder asked her.
Scully nodded. "Yep." They seemed to be on the same page so often anymore, his comment didn't surprise her in the slightest.
"I hope we get an assignment like that again," Mulder said casually.
"Why? Are you suddenly interested in playing house?" Scully asked him playfully.
"Well, when it comes to playing… I've always been partial to 'doctor,' but I think I really just had fun watching you get so into the role… Laura."
"Okay… a) you were far more 'into the role' than I was, Rob, and b) how could you possibly walk away from that case and call it 'fun'?"
"Well, you know, I'm disregarding the CC&R Enforcement Monster."
"The people were the only monsters in that neighborhood," Scully stated.
Mulder guffawed. "That's a joke, right? I mean, I know you saw the ubermenscher."
"Mulder, how could I have? You locked me in a closet—"
"No, that was the vet who looked like the one guy from E.R. …"
"Well, you left me in the closet."
"You're telling me you didn't see, for even one second, the giant monster made of trash?"
"I saw the trash… in a pile… on our front lawn."
Mulder groaned, but said no more as he followed the last few of Scully's directions to their destination.
When he pulled the rental car up to Eleanor Woodcomb's home, Scully noticed the name on the mailbox read "Jones."
"You sure this is the right house?" she asked.
"I think the question is: are you sure it's the right house?" Mulder said as he parked the car on the street in front of the large two-story home. "You're the navigator."
"And I've navigated us to the address you gave me."
"Which is the address the FBI gave me."
"Okay, so, who are the Joneses?"
"And more importantly, how can we keep up with them?" Mulder kidded.
Scully and Mulder made their way to the door where Scully rang the doorbell just as Mulder knocked. They glanced at one another, both smiling at their differing approach to even something so seemingly simple, but those same smiles faded when a man in his fifties answered the door.
"Can I help you?" the haggard-looking gentleman asked the agents. His clothes were disheveled and his eyes were red and puffy.
"Yes… uh… Mr. Jones?" Scully asked uncertainly.
"Frank Jones."
"I'm Agent Dana Scully. This is my partner Fox Mulder." They both flashed their badges. "Eleanor Woodcomb was your… ?"
"Daughter," Frank told them.
Scully and Mulder glanced at each other, sharing their sympathy for the grieving father. Finally, Scully asked, "We're investigating your daughter's death. May we come in and talk?"
"Investigating her death? She killed herself. Case closed. Now, if you'll excuse me," Frank tried to close the front door, but Mulder stuck his foot in as a doorstop.
"It could be more complicated than that, Mr. Jones. Please, if you'll just give us a moment of your time—"
"Unless you're here to tell me you're after her good-for-nothing husband for this—"
"We definitely think he's involved," Mulder interjected in a desperate attempt to capture Frank's attention. It worked.
Frank paused and walked away from the door, leaving it open for Mulder and Scully to follow. Scully looked hesitantly at Mulder, but when he nodded, she took the first step inside.
Frank invited them to have a seat at a formal dining room table, but offered no other hospitalities.
"Devon Woodcomb is the worst thing that's ever happened to my family," Frank said as he sat down in a chair opposite the agents.
Scully and Mulder waited, but when Frank did not continue, Mulder finally asked, "Could you provide us with a little more background on Mr. Woodcomb and his relationship with your daughter?"
Frank stared down at the table, but finally nodded. "She met him in high school. She was a cheerleader and an honor student. He was… "
"Trouble?" Mulder suggested after a long pause from Frank.
Frank nodded. "At first, I thought she was doing it to rebel against me."
"Why would she do that?" questioned Mulder.
"Her mother died when Ellie was ten. I tried to be a good parent to my two girls, but I worked a lot and they didn't get the attention… I just could have done better, I know that."
"Most parents who think they could have done better… have done better than most," Scully offered gently.
Frank smiled at her. It was small, but appreciative.
"I eventually figured out that whatever it was with Devon… it had nothing to do with me in the slightest. On the contrary, it was all about him," Frank explained, staring at a spot on the wall. "Devon flunked out their senior year while Ellie went on to graduate near the top of her class, but… she didn't go to college in the fall because he told her not to. He wanted her to marry him, so she did. When he got into drugs, she turned into a junkie, too…"
Mulder glanced at Scully
"That boy… was the center of her universe," Frank said, shaking his head.
"Sounds more like a black hole," commented Mulder.
Frank made eye contact with him.
"Mr. Jones," Scully began, "Were you purposefully keeping your daughter from seeing or contacting her husband?"
Mulder and Scully both saw the shame wash over Frank's face. He nodded, barely.
"My other daughter, Charlotte, and I… we got her into rehab. It was only because Devon approved. I heard him tell her that it was safer there than at home. I figured maybe he owed some people—some dangerous people—some money. Maybe he wanted to keep Ellie safe. Who knows? He got sick about a week after she left… and when those doctors were willing to treat him for free… we counted it as a Godsend." Frank paused, tears in his eyes. "She just got home a few days ago… and now…"
"What was her behavior like?" Scully asked. "When she got out of rehab?"
Frank shrugged. "Well, naturally, she was upset about Devon. She wanted to go see him, but we convinced her that there was nothing she could do—to stay with us for a week or two then we'd all go up and see him together. I couldn't believe it, but she agreed. It was so nice to have her without him. She was more herself than she'd been in years. She actually thanked us for sending her to rehab. For those few days… we were a family again."
"Then… why… ?" Scully asked not wanting to put words to what his daughter had done to herself.
Frank shook his head. "He called. He asked her to go to him… we wouldn't—I wouldn't let her go."
"Well, what'd you do, lock her in the basement?" Mulder asked irreverently, but when he saw Scully's chastising look, he added, "I mean, why didn't she just go anyway?"
Frank hung his head. "She had no means. She asked me to buy her a plane ticket… bus ticket… anything, but I… I was done enabling her bad habits—including Devon."
"You did the right thing," Scully assured him.
"Did I? If she'd gone… would she still be dead?"
"That's something we're trying to establish," Mulder told him.
"You really think Devon's responsible?"
"Not directly," Scully said firmly. She didn't want to find out what an angry father could do to a man in a hospital bed. "Thank you for your time, Mr. Jones."
"Please, see yourselves out."
Mulder and Scully glanced at one another, each seemingly satisfied that the conversation was over. They got up and made their way back to the front foyer where a high-school-aged girl stood skulking.
"There's something he doesn't know. About Devon and my sister," this girl, presumably Ellie's sister Charlotte, whispered to the agents.
"Are you Charlotte?" Scully asked in a hushed tone.
The girl nodded. "He hit her."
"Your father?"
Charlotte's face twisted in disgust. "No. My father… he's a good man. He could never understand why Ellie chose to be with Devon, and neither could I when I started seeing the bruises. I confronted her about it and she told me the truth, but… she said she couldn't leave him… it was like she was tied to him by some string that was wrapped around everything inside of her—her very being… her—"
"Her soul?" Mulder asked softly. When Charlotte nodded, Mulder glanced at Scully to give her a pointed look.
"Okay, thank you, Charlotte," Scully said and gave her a gentle smile. "If you think of anything else… or if you just need someone to talk to… here's my card."
Scully handed off the card as Mulder opened the door for her. Charlotte took the card and nodded before she slipped away. Scully exited with Mulder close behind her.
When they got to the car, Mulder opened the passenger door for Scully, leaning boyishly against it as they spoke.
"I think we got some pretty solid answers to our questions," Scully said.
Mulder nodded. "Yeah. Actually, it sounded a lot like our chemistry teacher. She wanted to go… she just couldn't."
"Yes, except in the case of Ms. Weiss, it was morality keeping her away."
"Yeah, the same morality that made her try to kill herself. And I bet our altar boy probably had a mix of both."
"How do you mean?" Scully questioned.
"Well, I'm sure he wasn't thrilled with how he felt about Father O'Shea… nor did he, as Mr. Jones put it, have 'the means' to get on a plane and fly across the country. He was stuck like Eleanor Woodcomb was stuck in Ocala… and he hated himself for his feelings like Katrina Weiss in Barstow."
"All I'm hearing is that we don't have to go to Kansas City and interview another grieving father… and that's good news, but—"
"What you should be hearing, Scully, is that my theory is still holding up pretty well."
"I guess, but does that mean when Sarah Burton arrives at the bedside of Chuck Carmichael… he'll miraculously be cured?"
"I guess there's only one way to find out," Mulder grinned and motioned for Scully to get back into the car.
"Oh, Mulder… more travel?"
"Hey, you're the one who wanted to intercept Sarah Burton, remember?"
Scully tilted her head to the side and stared at him. The thought of another plane ride made her want to strangle him. She really might have hated him if she didn't love him so much. That thought made her smile a dopey grin that she knew Mulder noticed.
"What?" he asked softly, leaning in a little and lifting both his eyebrows in innocent curiosity. What could possibly make her smile like that? But then he saw a look of horror and fear take over her face as she looked past him toward the street, toward the car Mulder could hear slowly approaching. "What?"
"Mulder, get down!" she yelled and grabbed the lapels of his jacket, yanking him all the way down to the ground.
He was completely confused as he lay over her crumpled body, his lips precariously close to hers. "Scully, what the hell are you doing?"
"Someone in that car had a—"
Then the gunshots rat-tat-tatted against the metal of the rental car. Another set of bullets sailed over the car and shattered window after window in the Jones' house.
"Stay down," Mulder told Scully as he tried to get up.
Scully held hard onto his lapels. "You, too."
Mulder wanted to get a look at the vehicle, see the assailants, maybe take a shot at a tire… but the look in Scully's eyes forced him to freeze. It was more than fear, more than concern for his well-being. What he saw was intense and true… deep and complicated. He almost smiled, almost let his lips graze hers. A few more shots snapped him back to reality as glass from the window of the opened car door showered down on them both.
Mulder pulled his jacket up to protect Scully's face from the last of the glass shards that rained over them. He realized that if he had stood when he'd wanted, it would be him instead of the window lying broken on the concrete next to Scully. She'd saved him.
Pulling him down because she'd seen the barrel of the TEC-9 sticking out the back passenger widow of the car that had rolled slowly down the residential street had made sense—still did make sense—but Scully really didn't know why she'd stopped Mulder from getting up when she did. Had she been alone, she would have chosen the exact same moment to pop up for a look at the license plate or shooter… possibly to take a shot or two of her own. She wasn't the type to buy into intuition or gut feelings, but that was the only way she could explain her actions.
"Well," Mulder whispered, his lips near her ear, brushing her hair with each word, "I'm glad you decided to come to Florida with me, Scully."