Principals II
Archive: Yes, please! Anywhere! If you could just let me know... I'd like to visit.
Spoilers: Oh, Lord, where to begin? Better beware of absolutely everything that's ever aired. I'm still working.
Rating: Ah, maybe a *slight* R for language.
Classification: MSR. Duh.
Summary: Just read it, *please*? I promise it gets pretty good. IMHO.
Disclaimer: They're not mine. That short enough?
Feedback: Does my cat jump on the refrigerater and knock my clock to the floor every two minutes? That's a yes, in case you're wondering. Flames will be used to burn out the horrible kareoke singers at the next dance I go to...
Principals II
November 2, 2000
FBI Headquarters
Washington, DC
9:00 AM
"Sir? You wanted to see us?" Scully's outer demeanor was stoic as always, but inside she was trembling. This was their first meeting with Skinner since their relationship had evolved, and suddenly she thought he could read her mind.
And that would not be good, because since the kiss two nights ago, that was all she could think of.
Mulder was having a harder time keeping his cool.
"You have a case for us?" His knee was bouncing repeatedly, sending Skinner into a trance. She watched her boss shake himself and glare at Mulder, who took the hint meekly.
"Multiple abductions." He handed Mulder the folder. "I know it's not an X-File, but…" his shoulders sagged just a little. "Halloween was just last week, and Christmas is starting up, so absolutely everybody in the VCS has some kind of theft or fraud or kidnapping to deal with. 'Tis the season." His hand was trembling as he reached for his glasses. The pallor in his face was disturbing.
"Sir, are you all right?"
"I'm fine, Agent Scully."
"Sorry, sir, that's my line. You need to lie down."
"You're dismissed, Agents." He rose.
"Sir!"
"You're dismissed!" Skinner reached for the desk to steady himself, then swayed slightly. Before either agent could react, he slumped to the floor, unconscious. Scully was on the ground by his side in no time.
"His pulse is faint. Mulder, call 911, he's not breathing." As he rushed the phone, she began pumping his chest and pinched his nose shut, lowering her mouth to his. Mulder watched as she did this twice more before he began to breathe on his own again.
Soon the medics came in and whisked him away. Scully sagged against the desks, exhausted, as the room emptied. Once everyone was gone except her and Mulder, he went to her. The door closed and she could finally let out the breath she'd been holding.
"You ok, Scully?" he asked softly. She started to nod, then paused and shook her head. She walked over to a picture on the wall, as if speaking to a dead Director would be easier. It would.
"No." and for the first time, she told the truth about her feelings. "That scared me, Mulder. Have you ever thought of what might happen if Skinner died? Or resigned?" she bit her lip and looked at his reflection. "That's not even it. I guess—Skinner's been like a father to me. He's alternately helped us out and kicked our asses whenever it was needed. And I guess I never thought about what would happen if he were gone."
Scully felt, rather than saw, Mulder come up from behind her and wrap his arms around her waist. She sighed and leaned back against him, relishing the feeling of his arms as he kissed the top of her head. But suddenly they remembered where they were and slid apart.
"Did you look at this yet?" Scully picked up the file and it was business as usual once again.
***
November 3, 2000
Bethesda National Hospital
1:00 PM
Skinner heard them coming from his bed and grimaced.
"Mulder, that is insane!" Scully stared at her partner in the hallway. Seven people had disappeared from a local tennis club, and of course Mulder thought it was the work of aliens. "Even if there were 'little gray men', what would they want with a bunch of tennis players?"
"To learn the game?"
Skinner could practically hear the look she gave him. Then they came in.
"Sir? How're you feeling?" Scully sat next to his bed and Mulder handed her the chart.
"I'm fine, doc." He scowled at her. He hated being in the hospital—and there didn't feel like there was anything wrong with him! "I'm just a little bit al—"
"Allergic to sulfur?" She finished for him. "Why were you on medication in the first place?"
"Nothing, just… small infection that's gone now." Scully nodded. "They told me what you did, Agent. You saved my life, I'm grateful."
Scully smiled gently. "Anytime, sir."
Mulder watched his partner speak softly to their boss, watched the sunlight filter down in her hair, saw her turn toward him and see his stare. Her breath caught and she cursed Mulder for having such an effect on her. Then she rose slowly and turned toward him, her eyes a deep purple. This was a dangerous game they were playing. She came up to him, put a hand on his arm, and spoke.
"We should get going."
Mulder almost choked. How could her voice be that low? Then he was following her out, down the hallway, into an empty elevator. Scully smiled alluringly at him and pushed the button for lobby. As the doors closed, she walked straight into his arms and kissed him smoothly.
"It'll get easier, Mulder." She assured him softly. "Somehow we'll figure out how to hide it."
"Not gonna be easy."
"Never said it would be."
Mulder gazed at her. "I love you, Scully. You know that, right?"
"It's goes without saying, Mulder. Somehow I've always known."
He didn't know why, but that simple statement warmed Mulder's heart. He squeezed her shoulder as the doors slid open again and they reclaimed their professional distance.
***
Fairview Athletic Club
Washington, DC
2:00 PM
It didn't take long to get to the Fairview Athletic club. But after Mulder turned off the car, Scully put a hand on his arm.
"Hold on, Mulder. I have to brief you." He grinned.
"What?"
"I'm not Dana here."
"You're never Dana."
"N—no, I mean my name is Katherine Scully at this club. I'm a doctor, not an FBI agent. See, I—I come here a lot after work or on the weekends or whatever and I play a little with someone who needs an opponent. It's a casual thing, just a 'hi, let's play' beforehand and a 'good game, see ya' afterwards." She grinned wryly. "I just thought I should prepare you for all the odd looks we're going to get. They've never seen me in a suit before. And they're going to be suspicious of you. No one comes in there with a suit and tie unless there's something wrong." Mulder nodded silently. She smiled at him, glad he understood. "Ok. Let's go."
They entered the club and started for the registration desk. Scully was greeted by numerous patrons on their way, whom she spoke to as old friends. Many of them caught a glance of Mulder and quickly turned to their little cliques, gossiping. Everyone eyed Scully's clothes apprehensively.
"Kate, hi!" The woman behind the desk greeted her. Scully tried not to grin at her, and would've failed if she hadn't had Mulder right behind her to remind her that this was business.
"Becca. Um, can we have a word with your manager, please?" That's good. Stick to the script. Mulder saw the confusion on Becca's face and correctly assumed that this was not how Scully normally acted here. He wished they didn't have to ruin her cover, but they didn't have a choice.
"I—I guess you could, but he's on his way out. Kate, what's going on?"
"Can you please tell him we need to speak with him immediately? We're with the FBI."
Becca burst out laughing. "Damn, Kate, you had me fooled! I always knew you were a practical joker, but this takes the cake…" she trailed off when she looked up and saw Scully holding up her identification. Mulder's came up next to her. Scully introduced themselves.
"I'm Special Agent Dana Scully, this is Agent Mulder. Could you call the manager?"
"S—sure." She hit the intercom. "Joe, you'd better get out here."
"I'm leaving, Becca!"
"No, Joe, I think you should come out here. Now."
A tall, muscular man walked out from the back. "What?"
"Special Agents Mulder and Scully with the FBI. Sir, may we speak with you in private, please?"
The 'FBI' was all it took to gain his cooperation. He ushered them into his office and slammed the door.
"How can I help you?" He asked, sitting at his desk and folding his hands.
"Seven members of this club were abducted recently: all were 10-12 year old girls, and all were last seen here. All seven kidnappings occurred within five days, the 20th to the 25th of October. If we gave you the names, would you be able to connect them?" Scully got right to it. "We have a list."
"Let's see." He took the paper, then started up his computer. "Ok… well, here you go." He pointed to the screen and Mulder walked around to look over his shoulder. "Those were the only girls registered in our 10-12 tournament this weekend. The only other girl is a 12-year-old, Rachel Cheyene. Her dad's one of them rich guys who don't work and make money anyway, spends a lot of time here. Rachel's a spoiled brat. Daddy buys her everything, and if he hesitates, she screams bloody murder."
"Would daddy buy her a championship?" Mulder asked dryly.
"He might."
"Ok." Scully took the list back. "Is he here now?"
"Yeah, actually. Court 3. But—you know he's in the loop. Suits are gonna make him suspicious."
"That's right." Scully hesitated. "Does he come at any specific time every day?"
"Well, he usually gets here 'bout nine in the morning, always takes Court 3. Switches partners a lot, though. Plays a lot of singles."
"Huh?" Mulder looked from one tennis player to the other.
"Never mind. When does he leave?" Scully asked.
"Oh… right about now, actually. If—if you don't mind my asking, how are you planning on doing this?"
"Ok, here's how I see it. Don't let anyone on Courts 1, 2, 3, or 4 except him. Agent Mulder and I will take Court 2 undercover. From what I know about Cheyene, which is very little considering I only spoke with him once, he's not the type to let people get too close too fast. He is not married—my guess is he's divorced, and recently, because there's a tan line on his left ring finger where his wedding band would've been. And he'll do anything to win, which includes watching and talking to his opponents before playing to find out their weaknesses. That's where we come in." she indicated herself and Mulder. "We'll come in tomorrow and wait for him. It should be clean and simple, we'll just take him on the court so no one's life is endangered if something happens."
"Yeah, that's good. But… who're you gonna play undercover?" Mulder asked.
"W—you. Mulder, what's wrong?" he had a strange grimace on his face.
"My tennis isn't exactly the greatest."
"Well, I'm going to need you for backup, so I don't see that you have a choice in the matter."
Mulder groaned. "All right. We'll be here ½ hour early and stake the place out. Come on, Scully."
"Thank you for your time." They walked out.
***
FBI Headquarters
Washington, DC
Weapons Arsenal
5:00 PM
Mulder led Scully into the far reaches of the room and put a hand on her shoulder to stop her.
"Sit down, Scully." He motioned to a bench along the wall. She sat.
"What is it, Mulder?"
"Josep Cheyene."
"How do you know his first name?" Scully asked, confused.
"I did a profile on him back in '90. You guessed wrong about his marital status. When I did the profile, it was because he was a prime suspect in a case: we believed he'd killed ten people, including his wife. But by the time I convinced those bastards at VICAP my profile was sound, Cheyene was gone. We never found him . I just can't believe he came back here."
"Rachel. Did he have a daughter when you profiled him? If she's 12 now…"
"She's another woman's child. His wife was barren." He saw Scully inwardly cringe, but they both looked beyond it. They couldn't open up that wound right now. "God knows he had enough affairs. We think all the women he killed were his lovers at one time or another."
"God. You think he'll start killing again?"
"I don't know." Mulder rubbed his forehead. "I mean, this has never happened before—at least not that I know of."
Scully reached out and touched his arm briefly. She knew how much he hated being confused.
"We'll figure it out, Mulder." He gave her a half-smile. "Now why are we down here?"
"We need different weapons. If we're playing tennis, our normal ones are gonna be awfully conspicuous."
"Yeah, but what are we supposed to do?"
"Here." He reached up to a shelf and moved a few storage boxes aside until he could reach all the way to the back. "Take this." He gave her a metal box and brushed himself off. "Come on, we'd better go somewhere else.
***
FBI Headquarters
Washington, DC
X-Files Department
5:30 PM
Scully sat at her desk while Mulder found a key and opened the lid of the box. He pulled out an obscure looking object and motioned for her to come over to his desk.
"You wear a skirt when you play tennis, Scully?"
"No, not usually."
"Good. Here, this will go around your leg." He gave her the holster. "And this slides down out of it if you hit the catch."
Scully peered into the box and took the smaller gun, one that she could almost hide in her hands, and expertly fastened it into the metal band.
"T-130 and I are old friends." She said grimly. Mulder watched her turn away and grabbed her arm, spinning her around. His eyes were pure fire, sending out signals clear as day.
Danger. Danger. Danger.
"Mulder, this office is wired." Scully warned him softly. He took the weapon from her hands and set it on his desk. Slowly, deliberately, he took her arm and pulled her along with him.
"Come here, Scully, I want to show you something." Mulder said for the benefit of Whoever was listening. He pulled open the closet door, pushed her in, and nudged the door almost all the way shut.
Scully had barely a second to think before he had her against a wall, cradling her head in his hands, kissing her forcefully. She almost melted into his arms—but then she heard something.
"Mm… Mulder, the elevator." She gasped, trying to break away. He groaned at the loss, but ran out after her, hurrying to his desk.
"Oh, shit!" he grabbed the box and hid it in his desk drawer. Scully slid across the floor and into her seat.
"Mulder!" she hissed, gesturing toward the T-130. He grabbed at it and pulled on the drawer handle. It didn't open. The footsteps were coming closer. "Here!"
He pulled the mag out and tossed the gun at her. She dropped it in the drawer just as Skinner's shadow darkened the doorway.
"Sir? What are you doing out of the hospital?"
"They released me. What are you two doing here? I thought I gave you a case to work on."
"We are working on it." Was Mulder's snide remark. Skinner went to Mulder's desk.
"That looks like the magazine for a T-130." He paused. "Agent Mulder, you are aware these are illegal now, aren't you? If you or Agent Scully got caught with one of these guns, it could take hours on days to resolve."
"Yes, sir." Scully broke in. "That's just there because Mulder was starting to clean his desk and he found it in one of the drawers—probably from when we were allowed to use them."
Skinner nodded. "All right." He turned and left. Mulder looked at Scully.
"Well, that was weird."
"Almost spooky."
He gave her an exaggerated smirk and got up to give her the set of bullets. Standing behind her, he set it down and set a hand on her shoulder.
"Not. Here." She growled through clenched teeth, and he nearly jumped.
"Sorry." He mumbled.
"Mulder." She turned and looked at him. "We're going to need to talk about this. We need some rules."
"When to go in and when to stay put?" Mulder asked slyly, making it sound like they were discussing a case. Scully wanted to hug him, but settled for the rare gift of a Smile. Mulder's heart nearly stopped.
"So tomorrow we go get Cheyene?" she asked casually, as if a cataclysmic event hadn't just taken place. Mulder smirked at her.
"Yeah."
***
November 4, 2000
Fairview Athletic Club
8:30 AM
Scully strode into the club as if she'd been born frequenting the place, tennis bag casually thrown over her shoulder, hair in autopsy mode, pulled back. She sauntered up to Becca's desk.
"Hey, how are you?" she asked.
"Fine." Was the short answer. Scully flinched, stunned.
"Becca, what's wrong?"
"What's wrong? You're an FBI agent, you figure it out."
"Oh. Look, Becca, I'm sorry. I just—this was where I came to kind of get rid of the tension my job entails. If I told anyone, I'd probably never get a moment's peace. People seem to be under the misguided illusion that being an FBI agent is all glamour, shooting the bad guys and things like that."
"But you lied to us."
"My middle name is Katherine." Scully argued quietly. "I am a doctor."
"You are an FBI agent, Dana. It's one or the other. You can't be both."
"I am a doctor. I graduated med school, but I chose not to practice. I am also an FBI agent. And if you haven't told everyone already, I'd prefer for you to not let it out."
Becca bit her lip.
"Do you bring a gun in here?"
Scully looked her friend in the eye and lied unabashedly. "No."
Mulder walked in a few minutes later to find all forgiven and forgotten. They were talking quietly and Becca laughed at something Scully said—then saw him standing there awkwardly. She nodded toward him and Scully turned.
"Oh, hey." She motioned to her bag. "Let me just drop this in my locker and we'll get started." He nodded. Scully disappeared into the locker room.
As she turned the combination on the lock, she heard two women walk in and turn the corner before the locker complex into the bathroom. Scully went about her business, lacing up her shoes until her heard:
"So did Josep go after you too?"
"Oh, yeah, he came up to me yesterday. He thinks just because his dad never gave him what he wanted when he was a kid, he can have whatever he wants now."
"But I heard he was gay."
"You heard he hated women; I heard the same thing. He does hate women, but he isn't gay. He just loves to break up with them. God only knows what's going on in that head of his."
Scully stopped. Was that it? Mulder had called her this morning; early enough to wake her up and say that Josep Cheyene's mother ran out on him and his father when Josep was twelve years old. Did this spring from that incident so many years ago? Se shook her head quickly. They had to get on the courts now.
"Love all, love all." Scully announced the score, about to toss the ball in the air.
"Hey! Stop quoting the Bible and serve, would you?" Mulder faked annoyance. She smiled to herself and served. His return landed two feet outside the line.
"Love—15." She lied. Mulder stood there and looked smug.
***
Fairview Athletic Club
Court 2
8:44 AM
Josep Cheyene still hadn't shown up. Scully heaved a sigh and said the score, wondering if he'd ever get there.
"Deuce."
"Huh?"
"Deuce, Mulder, that's tennis speak for tie. The score is tied."
"You're not beating the crap out of me?"
"Not yet." Scully smirked and served. Mulder swung wildly and missed. She'd been entirely too lenient with the out-of-bounds lines on his part. On the next serve the game was hers. Mulder met her on the way around to switch sides.
"Nice game, Ace." He whispered surreptitiously. "See any suspects yet?"
"Just you." She shot back.
"What's my crime?"
"Horrible playing."
"We were tied!"
Scully tried to keep a straight face.
"Scully!" He protested, but just then two men walked onto the next court.
"Should we be doing this? There's witnesses." The short man asked lowly, his Spanish accent thick and overwhelming. Cheyene answered.
"Keep your pants on. They don't know anything."
Mulder turned Scully's shoulder towards him and acted like he was asking her how to hold the racquet. As she adjusted his grip, she saw Cheyene out of the corner of her eye opening one of the poles the net was tied to and pulling out a plastic bag.
"Opium." She murmured. "Drug bust, we can take him in on that and question him about the girls after he's processed."
He nodded and started for the curtain. When no one was looking, Scully yanked her Sig out of her tennis racquet case and holstered it under her shirt at her back. She wasn't taking any chances. Mulder paused and looked back and she headed toward him, pulling her id out of her shorts pockets. Just then they heard a loud voice protesting, and ran onto Court 3.
"This isn't what I paid for!" The man was complaining. He froze when he saw them coming, identification held up.
"There a problem here?" Mulder asked. The short man began to stutter.
"Jo—Josep, it's—it's the FBI Josep…"
Cheyenne shrugged his shoulders and spun around hands up—and each holding a bomb.
"You may put your identification away now." He said smoothly. "They will not save you."
The agents looked at each other and closed their badges up, reaching for their pockets. Scully tried to calculate how much time she'd have to get to her gun if she went for the back pocket. Mulder tried to stare Josep down, but failed miserably. They had barely moved, but he stopped them.
"Ah—uh-uh. On the floor." They obeyed. "Manuel, pick 'em up." The short man retrieved the badges, babbling like an idiot. Cheyenne studied the badges. "Fox. Are you armed? You must be. Let's have it."
Mulder glared at the man and reached under his loose shirt, recovered the T-126 he'd had against his rib cage. Cheyenne whistled lowly.
"Nice. You weren't packing this in '90, were you?" he looked over at Scully. "Dana."
Involuntarily, Scully shuddered. As much as Mulder's voice could caress her when he said her name, this man's voice was venomous. But he mistook her reaction for something entirely different.
"You like that, sweetie?" he murmured, reaching out to touch her, then stopping. "I need your weapon."
Scully reached back and retrieved her Sig. Mulder stared. When did she put that on?
"Such a big gun for such a little lady." He said, setting it on the floor with Mulder's. Cheyenne advanced, then set one of the bombs on the floor a few feet away from Scully. "But is that all you got?"
He reached out with his free hand and touched her sides, rubbing up and down her rib cage in what he thought she considered a sensual act. Only Mulder could see the ice in Scully's eyes, the hatred for a killer. Then Cheyenne grabbed the back of her head and tried to kiss her, but was surprised by a sound blow to the jaw.
'Now why does that look familiar?' Mulder wondered, thinking of the Queen Anne. Scully was mad now more than ever, but she tried to calm down. She didn't want him getting angry. But she was damned if she was going to apologize—or let him touch her again. Josep licked his lips hungrily.
"Feisty." He growled, and grabbed her hands so she couldn't hit him again, kissing her roughly. Mulder was about to beat the crap out of him, bombs be damned, but Manuel immediately started stuttering again.
"Uh—Josep. You're assaulting an FBI agent, Josep. We're going to get in trouble…"
"Oh, do shut up." Cheyenne spun around, drawing his own Glock and shooting Manuel in the chest.
"No!" Mulder shouted too late. He tackled Cheyenne and Scully ran to Manuel, whose life was slowly oozing out of him. She pressed down on the wound hard, feeling the blood hot and sticky between her fingers. He was so far gone she doubted anything short of the best damn doctors in the country could save him. He seemed to sense that, and gasped out his last words.
"You keep me in this pain?" she knew it was up to her. Someone had to tell him it was ok to die. She bit her lip.
"Let go, Manuel." She said softly. "Go in peace."
And he was gone.
Meanwhile, Mulder had knocked the gun from Cheyenne's hand and they were going at it with blows and kicks. Scully tried to grab Mulder's T-126 from the floor, but her hands were still slippery with blood. She groaned in frustration, then wiped her hands off and slipped her T-130 out of it's holster on her leg and thumbed the safety off silently. She hated the rage that was welling up inside her, but something had to be done before Mulder was hurt. Cheyenne had her partner by the neck, and she glided up behind the drug lord and pressed the warm metal of the gun against the back of his neck.
"Hurt him… and so help me God. You will not live to see the light of day again." Her voice was pure steel and Cheyenne slowly released his hold on Mulder's neck. Scully pushed Cheyenne off to the side a little, keeping her gun trained on his back. "Mulder, can you handle this?"
He seemed disoriented for a moment, just staring at her. Then he shook himself and scooped Scully's Sig off the floor and began reading their prisoner his rights. Scully saw through the big glass window that the lobby had been evacuated and police officers were milling around. Someone must've called them when the guns came out.
Slowly she made her way down the enclosed hallway that separated Courts 1, 2, 3, and 4 from 5, 6, 7, and 8. Taking a deep breath, she pushed the door open and entered the throng of people. In the corner, talking with Becca, was none other than Walter Skinner. When he saw her he allowed Becca to leave—which she did, and quickly. Scully approached him.
"Sir?"
"Scully…" he stared at her. "Agent Scully, what—" he gestured at her and she looked down. Her previously white t-shirt was a grotesque shade of red, soaked with a dead man's blood. There were faint handprints on her shorts where she'd wiped her hands off. And now she realized that she was trembling uncontrollably.
"Can—can you excuse me please? Sir?" she asked faintly. Then, without waiting for an answer, she walked quickly into the vacant locker room.
Scully stood in front of the mirror in the bathroom section, looking blankly at the blood. There was so much of it… she let out a frustrated cry and yanked at the handle of the faucet. Rubbing her hands together fiercely under the water, she cursed Josep Cheyenne again and again, hoping it would relieve her anger; the sick feeling that wouldn't go away.
It didn't work. She still felt filthy. Something was wrong.
Mulder escorted Cheyenne into the lobby and a police officer offered to take him down to the station. The agent readily agreed, then went up to his superior.
"Agent Mulder?"
"The girls are in the basement of his house a few blocks from here. The address is 254 Chestnut Avenue. He hasn't confessed to the murders in 1990, but we can arrest him on possession and VICAP can question him at the station. His was the only gun fired. Here." Mulder handed the weapon over in an evidence bag.
"Good work, Agent Mulder." The shocked look brought forth a soft laugh. "Don't look so stunned. You did what you had to do."
"Yeah—uh, where's Agent Scully?"
"In there." He motioned to the locker room.
"Alone?"
"I think so." Mulder looked worried. "Agent Mulder?"
"Excuse me." He muttered, and pushed through the door. "Scully?" There was no answer. His stomach twisted when he saw the blood-soaked shirt lying on the bathroom floor, rolled into a ball. Where was she? "Scully?"
Still no one replied. He strained his ears and thought he heard something. Running water. None of the faucets were on. Were there showers in here? But why wasn't she answering him? He stepped into the locker area and saw another exit with towels hanging near the doorway. The water sounded louder now. Completely abandoning any hope of a slow approach, he raced in.
"Scully!" Mulder turned a corner and stopped short. In one of the marble stalls was his partner.
She was still fully clothed, aside from the fact that she'd stripped the bloody shirt he'd found in the bathroom off and had a tight navy tank top on that had been under it. Her hair was already dark and straggly, and water was streaming down her face—but she didn't seem to notice. She stood straight against the wall of the tiny space, her arms at her sides, fists clenched. Mulder watched her struggle to breathe, her chest rising and falling as she gasped for breath. Slowly he reached out and turned off the water. Scully didn't seem to notice.
Mulder grabbed a large white towel from a nearby rack and approached her cautiously. She was still shaking. The towel, when draped over her shoulders, was ignored. She turned her head toward him slowly, and her body sagged.
"Mulder…" she whispered, and he jumped forward, pulling her close to him. The moisture on her clothes soaked into his skin and she took two handfuls of the front of his shirt and buried her face in his chest. Mulder drew the towel around her more tightly and held her against him. Neither spoke for a long while.
Finally, Scully looked up at her partner and bit her lip. She led him to the benches by the lockers and they sat down.
"I'm—I don't know what's wrong with me, Mulder. First after Skinner collapsed and now this?"
"Well, I can understand Skinner; someone you cared about almost died. But I—I'm a little confused about Cheyenne."
"No one's ever forced themselves on me like that." She said at length, looking him in the eye. "He would've raped me, Mulder. Right there, if he'd been angry enough. He is so inscenced against women that he needs to lull them into a false sense of security before killing them."
"The affairs."
"That's what I think."
"You're probably right." Mindful of the fact that Scully was probably a little uneasy about physical contact right now, Mulder simply kissed the top of her head. As he started to rise, Scully grabbed his arm and spoke in that impossibly low voice he'd grown to love.
"I don't mind being kissed by you, Mulder. You're not him."
Mulder grinned and slid his lips onto hers gently. Then he took her hand and helped her off the bench. And as they walked back out into the lobby, Scully touched her lips lightly for half a second, and realized that she felt different than she had when she first came in here.
She felt clean.
End part 2/??
Archive: Yes, please! Anywhere! If you could just let me know... I'd like to visit.
Spoilers: Oh, Lord, where to begin? Better beware of absolutely everything that's ever aired. I'm still working.
Rating: Ah, maybe a *slight* R for language.
Classification: MSR. Duh.
Summary: Just read it, *please*? I promise it gets pretty good. IMHO.
Disclaimer: They're not mine. That short enough?
Feedback: Does my cat jump on the refrigerater and knock my clock to the floor every two minutes? That's a yes, in case you're wondering. Flames will be used to burn out the horrible kareoke singers at the next dance I go to...
Principals II
November 2, 2000
FBI Headquarters
Washington, DC
9:00 AM
"Sir? You wanted to see us?" Scully's outer demeanor was stoic as always, but inside she was trembling. This was their first meeting with Skinner since their relationship had evolved, and suddenly she thought he could read her mind.
And that would not be good, because since the kiss two nights ago, that was all she could think of.
Mulder was having a harder time keeping his cool.
"You have a case for us?" His knee was bouncing repeatedly, sending Skinner into a trance. She watched her boss shake himself and glare at Mulder, who took the hint meekly.
"Multiple abductions." He handed Mulder the folder. "I know it's not an X-File, but…" his shoulders sagged just a little. "Halloween was just last week, and Christmas is starting up, so absolutely everybody in the VCS has some kind of theft or fraud or kidnapping to deal with. 'Tis the season." His hand was trembling as he reached for his glasses. The pallor in his face was disturbing.
"Sir, are you all right?"
"I'm fine, Agent Scully."
"Sorry, sir, that's my line. You need to lie down."
"You're dismissed, Agents." He rose.
"Sir!"
"You're dismissed!" Skinner reached for the desk to steady himself, then swayed slightly. Before either agent could react, he slumped to the floor, unconscious. Scully was on the ground by his side in no time.
"His pulse is faint. Mulder, call 911, he's not breathing." As he rushed the phone, she began pumping his chest and pinched his nose shut, lowering her mouth to his. Mulder watched as she did this twice more before he began to breathe on his own again.
Soon the medics came in and whisked him away. Scully sagged against the desks, exhausted, as the room emptied. Once everyone was gone except her and Mulder, he went to her. The door closed and she could finally let out the breath she'd been holding.
"You ok, Scully?" he asked softly. She started to nod, then paused and shook her head. She walked over to a picture on the wall, as if speaking to a dead Director would be easier. It would.
"No." and for the first time, she told the truth about her feelings. "That scared me, Mulder. Have you ever thought of what might happen if Skinner died? Or resigned?" she bit her lip and looked at his reflection. "That's not even it. I guess—Skinner's been like a father to me. He's alternately helped us out and kicked our asses whenever it was needed. And I guess I never thought about what would happen if he were gone."
Scully felt, rather than saw, Mulder come up from behind her and wrap his arms around her waist. She sighed and leaned back against him, relishing the feeling of his arms as he kissed the top of her head. But suddenly they remembered where they were and slid apart.
"Did you look at this yet?" Scully picked up the file and it was business as usual once again.
***
November 3, 2000
Bethesda National Hospital
1:00 PM
Skinner heard them coming from his bed and grimaced.
"Mulder, that is insane!" Scully stared at her partner in the hallway. Seven people had disappeared from a local tennis club, and of course Mulder thought it was the work of aliens. "Even if there were 'little gray men', what would they want with a bunch of tennis players?"
"To learn the game?"
Skinner could practically hear the look she gave him. Then they came in.
"Sir? How're you feeling?" Scully sat next to his bed and Mulder handed her the chart.
"I'm fine, doc." He scowled at her. He hated being in the hospital—and there didn't feel like there was anything wrong with him! "I'm just a little bit al—"
"Allergic to sulfur?" She finished for him. "Why were you on medication in the first place?"
"Nothing, just… small infection that's gone now." Scully nodded. "They told me what you did, Agent. You saved my life, I'm grateful."
Scully smiled gently. "Anytime, sir."
Mulder watched his partner speak softly to their boss, watched the sunlight filter down in her hair, saw her turn toward him and see his stare. Her breath caught and she cursed Mulder for having such an effect on her. Then she rose slowly and turned toward him, her eyes a deep purple. This was a dangerous game they were playing. She came up to him, put a hand on his arm, and spoke.
"We should get going."
Mulder almost choked. How could her voice be that low? Then he was following her out, down the hallway, into an empty elevator. Scully smiled alluringly at him and pushed the button for lobby. As the doors closed, she walked straight into his arms and kissed him smoothly.
"It'll get easier, Mulder." She assured him softly. "Somehow we'll figure out how to hide it."
"Not gonna be easy."
"Never said it would be."
Mulder gazed at her. "I love you, Scully. You know that, right?"
"It's goes without saying, Mulder. Somehow I've always known."
He didn't know why, but that simple statement warmed Mulder's heart. He squeezed her shoulder as the doors slid open again and they reclaimed their professional distance.
***
Fairview Athletic Club
Washington, DC
2:00 PM
It didn't take long to get to the Fairview Athletic club. But after Mulder turned off the car, Scully put a hand on his arm.
"Hold on, Mulder. I have to brief you." He grinned.
"What?"
"I'm not Dana here."
"You're never Dana."
"N—no, I mean my name is Katherine Scully at this club. I'm a doctor, not an FBI agent. See, I—I come here a lot after work or on the weekends or whatever and I play a little with someone who needs an opponent. It's a casual thing, just a 'hi, let's play' beforehand and a 'good game, see ya' afterwards." She grinned wryly. "I just thought I should prepare you for all the odd looks we're going to get. They've never seen me in a suit before. And they're going to be suspicious of you. No one comes in there with a suit and tie unless there's something wrong." Mulder nodded silently. She smiled at him, glad he understood. "Ok. Let's go."
They entered the club and started for the registration desk. Scully was greeted by numerous patrons on their way, whom she spoke to as old friends. Many of them caught a glance of Mulder and quickly turned to their little cliques, gossiping. Everyone eyed Scully's clothes apprehensively.
"Kate, hi!" The woman behind the desk greeted her. Scully tried not to grin at her, and would've failed if she hadn't had Mulder right behind her to remind her that this was business.
"Becca. Um, can we have a word with your manager, please?" That's good. Stick to the script. Mulder saw the confusion on Becca's face and correctly assumed that this was not how Scully normally acted here. He wished they didn't have to ruin her cover, but they didn't have a choice.
"I—I guess you could, but he's on his way out. Kate, what's going on?"
"Can you please tell him we need to speak with him immediately? We're with the FBI."
Becca burst out laughing. "Damn, Kate, you had me fooled! I always knew you were a practical joker, but this takes the cake…" she trailed off when she looked up and saw Scully holding up her identification. Mulder's came up next to her. Scully introduced themselves.
"I'm Special Agent Dana Scully, this is Agent Mulder. Could you call the manager?"
"S—sure." She hit the intercom. "Joe, you'd better get out here."
"I'm leaving, Becca!"
"No, Joe, I think you should come out here. Now."
A tall, muscular man walked out from the back. "What?"
"Special Agents Mulder and Scully with the FBI. Sir, may we speak with you in private, please?"
The 'FBI' was all it took to gain his cooperation. He ushered them into his office and slammed the door.
"How can I help you?" He asked, sitting at his desk and folding his hands.
"Seven members of this club were abducted recently: all were 10-12 year old girls, and all were last seen here. All seven kidnappings occurred within five days, the 20th to the 25th of October. If we gave you the names, would you be able to connect them?" Scully got right to it. "We have a list."
"Let's see." He took the paper, then started up his computer. "Ok… well, here you go." He pointed to the screen and Mulder walked around to look over his shoulder. "Those were the only girls registered in our 10-12 tournament this weekend. The only other girl is a 12-year-old, Rachel Cheyene. Her dad's one of them rich guys who don't work and make money anyway, spends a lot of time here. Rachel's a spoiled brat. Daddy buys her everything, and if he hesitates, she screams bloody murder."
"Would daddy buy her a championship?" Mulder asked dryly.
"He might."
"Ok." Scully took the list back. "Is he here now?"
"Yeah, actually. Court 3. But—you know he's in the loop. Suits are gonna make him suspicious."
"That's right." Scully hesitated. "Does he come at any specific time every day?"
"Well, he usually gets here 'bout nine in the morning, always takes Court 3. Switches partners a lot, though. Plays a lot of singles."
"Huh?" Mulder looked from one tennis player to the other.
"Never mind. When does he leave?" Scully asked.
"Oh… right about now, actually. If—if you don't mind my asking, how are you planning on doing this?"
"Ok, here's how I see it. Don't let anyone on Courts 1, 2, 3, or 4 except him. Agent Mulder and I will take Court 2 undercover. From what I know about Cheyene, which is very little considering I only spoke with him once, he's not the type to let people get too close too fast. He is not married—my guess is he's divorced, and recently, because there's a tan line on his left ring finger where his wedding band would've been. And he'll do anything to win, which includes watching and talking to his opponents before playing to find out their weaknesses. That's where we come in." she indicated herself and Mulder. "We'll come in tomorrow and wait for him. It should be clean and simple, we'll just take him on the court so no one's life is endangered if something happens."
"Yeah, that's good. But… who're you gonna play undercover?" Mulder asked.
"W—you. Mulder, what's wrong?" he had a strange grimace on his face.
"My tennis isn't exactly the greatest."
"Well, I'm going to need you for backup, so I don't see that you have a choice in the matter."
Mulder groaned. "All right. We'll be here ½ hour early and stake the place out. Come on, Scully."
"Thank you for your time." They walked out.
***
FBI Headquarters
Washington, DC
Weapons Arsenal
5:00 PM
Mulder led Scully into the far reaches of the room and put a hand on her shoulder to stop her.
"Sit down, Scully." He motioned to a bench along the wall. She sat.
"What is it, Mulder?"
"Josep Cheyene."
"How do you know his first name?" Scully asked, confused.
"I did a profile on him back in '90. You guessed wrong about his marital status. When I did the profile, it was because he was a prime suspect in a case: we believed he'd killed ten people, including his wife. But by the time I convinced those bastards at VICAP my profile was sound, Cheyene was gone. We never found him . I just can't believe he came back here."
"Rachel. Did he have a daughter when you profiled him? If she's 12 now…"
"She's another woman's child. His wife was barren." He saw Scully inwardly cringe, but they both looked beyond it. They couldn't open up that wound right now. "God knows he had enough affairs. We think all the women he killed were his lovers at one time or another."
"God. You think he'll start killing again?"
"I don't know." Mulder rubbed his forehead. "I mean, this has never happened before—at least not that I know of."
Scully reached out and touched his arm briefly. She knew how much he hated being confused.
"We'll figure it out, Mulder." He gave her a half-smile. "Now why are we down here?"
"We need different weapons. If we're playing tennis, our normal ones are gonna be awfully conspicuous."
"Yeah, but what are we supposed to do?"
"Here." He reached up to a shelf and moved a few storage boxes aside until he could reach all the way to the back. "Take this." He gave her a metal box and brushed himself off. "Come on, we'd better go somewhere else.
***
FBI Headquarters
Washington, DC
X-Files Department
5:30 PM
Scully sat at her desk while Mulder found a key and opened the lid of the box. He pulled out an obscure looking object and motioned for her to come over to his desk.
"You wear a skirt when you play tennis, Scully?"
"No, not usually."
"Good. Here, this will go around your leg." He gave her the holster. "And this slides down out of it if you hit the catch."
Scully peered into the box and took the smaller gun, one that she could almost hide in her hands, and expertly fastened it into the metal band.
"T-130 and I are old friends." She said grimly. Mulder watched her turn away and grabbed her arm, spinning her around. His eyes were pure fire, sending out signals clear as day.
Danger. Danger. Danger.
"Mulder, this office is wired." Scully warned him softly. He took the weapon from her hands and set it on his desk. Slowly, deliberately, he took her arm and pulled her along with him.
"Come here, Scully, I want to show you something." Mulder said for the benefit of Whoever was listening. He pulled open the closet door, pushed her in, and nudged the door almost all the way shut.
Scully had barely a second to think before he had her against a wall, cradling her head in his hands, kissing her forcefully. She almost melted into his arms—but then she heard something.
"Mm… Mulder, the elevator." She gasped, trying to break away. He groaned at the loss, but ran out after her, hurrying to his desk.
"Oh, shit!" he grabbed the box and hid it in his desk drawer. Scully slid across the floor and into her seat.
"Mulder!" she hissed, gesturing toward the T-130. He grabbed at it and pulled on the drawer handle. It didn't open. The footsteps were coming closer. "Here!"
He pulled the mag out and tossed the gun at her. She dropped it in the drawer just as Skinner's shadow darkened the doorway.
"Sir? What are you doing out of the hospital?"
"They released me. What are you two doing here? I thought I gave you a case to work on."
"We are working on it." Was Mulder's snide remark. Skinner went to Mulder's desk.
"That looks like the magazine for a T-130." He paused. "Agent Mulder, you are aware these are illegal now, aren't you? If you or Agent Scully got caught with one of these guns, it could take hours on days to resolve."
"Yes, sir." Scully broke in. "That's just there because Mulder was starting to clean his desk and he found it in one of the drawers—probably from when we were allowed to use them."
Skinner nodded. "All right." He turned and left. Mulder looked at Scully.
"Well, that was weird."
"Almost spooky."
He gave her an exaggerated smirk and got up to give her the set of bullets. Standing behind her, he set it down and set a hand on her shoulder.
"Not. Here." She growled through clenched teeth, and he nearly jumped.
"Sorry." He mumbled.
"Mulder." She turned and looked at him. "We're going to need to talk about this. We need some rules."
"When to go in and when to stay put?" Mulder asked slyly, making it sound like they were discussing a case. Scully wanted to hug him, but settled for the rare gift of a Smile. Mulder's heart nearly stopped.
"So tomorrow we go get Cheyene?" she asked casually, as if a cataclysmic event hadn't just taken place. Mulder smirked at her.
"Yeah."
***
November 4, 2000
Fairview Athletic Club
8:30 AM
Scully strode into the club as if she'd been born frequenting the place, tennis bag casually thrown over her shoulder, hair in autopsy mode, pulled back. She sauntered up to Becca's desk.
"Hey, how are you?" she asked.
"Fine." Was the short answer. Scully flinched, stunned.
"Becca, what's wrong?"
"What's wrong? You're an FBI agent, you figure it out."
"Oh. Look, Becca, I'm sorry. I just—this was where I came to kind of get rid of the tension my job entails. If I told anyone, I'd probably never get a moment's peace. People seem to be under the misguided illusion that being an FBI agent is all glamour, shooting the bad guys and things like that."
"But you lied to us."
"My middle name is Katherine." Scully argued quietly. "I am a doctor."
"You are an FBI agent, Dana. It's one or the other. You can't be both."
"I am a doctor. I graduated med school, but I chose not to practice. I am also an FBI agent. And if you haven't told everyone already, I'd prefer for you to not let it out."
Becca bit her lip.
"Do you bring a gun in here?"
Scully looked her friend in the eye and lied unabashedly. "No."
Mulder walked in a few minutes later to find all forgiven and forgotten. They were talking quietly and Becca laughed at something Scully said—then saw him standing there awkwardly. She nodded toward him and Scully turned.
"Oh, hey." She motioned to her bag. "Let me just drop this in my locker and we'll get started." He nodded. Scully disappeared into the locker room.
As she turned the combination on the lock, she heard two women walk in and turn the corner before the locker complex into the bathroom. Scully went about her business, lacing up her shoes until her heard:
"So did Josep go after you too?"
"Oh, yeah, he came up to me yesterday. He thinks just because his dad never gave him what he wanted when he was a kid, he can have whatever he wants now."
"But I heard he was gay."
"You heard he hated women; I heard the same thing. He does hate women, but he isn't gay. He just loves to break up with them. God only knows what's going on in that head of his."
Scully stopped. Was that it? Mulder had called her this morning; early enough to wake her up and say that Josep Cheyene's mother ran out on him and his father when Josep was twelve years old. Did this spring from that incident so many years ago? Se shook her head quickly. They had to get on the courts now.
"Love all, love all." Scully announced the score, about to toss the ball in the air.
"Hey! Stop quoting the Bible and serve, would you?" Mulder faked annoyance. She smiled to herself and served. His return landed two feet outside the line.
"Love—15." She lied. Mulder stood there and looked smug.
***
Fairview Athletic Club
Court 2
8:44 AM
Josep Cheyene still hadn't shown up. Scully heaved a sigh and said the score, wondering if he'd ever get there.
"Deuce."
"Huh?"
"Deuce, Mulder, that's tennis speak for tie. The score is tied."
"You're not beating the crap out of me?"
"Not yet." Scully smirked and served. Mulder swung wildly and missed. She'd been entirely too lenient with the out-of-bounds lines on his part. On the next serve the game was hers. Mulder met her on the way around to switch sides.
"Nice game, Ace." He whispered surreptitiously. "See any suspects yet?"
"Just you." She shot back.
"What's my crime?"
"Horrible playing."
"We were tied!"
Scully tried to keep a straight face.
"Scully!" He protested, but just then two men walked onto the next court.
"Should we be doing this? There's witnesses." The short man asked lowly, his Spanish accent thick and overwhelming. Cheyene answered.
"Keep your pants on. They don't know anything."
Mulder turned Scully's shoulder towards him and acted like he was asking her how to hold the racquet. As she adjusted his grip, she saw Cheyene out of the corner of her eye opening one of the poles the net was tied to and pulling out a plastic bag.
"Opium." She murmured. "Drug bust, we can take him in on that and question him about the girls after he's processed."
He nodded and started for the curtain. When no one was looking, Scully yanked her Sig out of her tennis racquet case and holstered it under her shirt at her back. She wasn't taking any chances. Mulder paused and looked back and she headed toward him, pulling her id out of her shorts pockets. Just then they heard a loud voice protesting, and ran onto Court 3.
"This isn't what I paid for!" The man was complaining. He froze when he saw them coming, identification held up.
"There a problem here?" Mulder asked. The short man began to stutter.
"Jo—Josep, it's—it's the FBI Josep…"
Cheyenne shrugged his shoulders and spun around hands up—and each holding a bomb.
"You may put your identification away now." He said smoothly. "They will not save you."
The agents looked at each other and closed their badges up, reaching for their pockets. Scully tried to calculate how much time she'd have to get to her gun if she went for the back pocket. Mulder tried to stare Josep down, but failed miserably. They had barely moved, but he stopped them.
"Ah—uh-uh. On the floor." They obeyed. "Manuel, pick 'em up." The short man retrieved the badges, babbling like an idiot. Cheyenne studied the badges. "Fox. Are you armed? You must be. Let's have it."
Mulder glared at the man and reached under his loose shirt, recovered the T-126 he'd had against his rib cage. Cheyenne whistled lowly.
"Nice. You weren't packing this in '90, were you?" he looked over at Scully. "Dana."
Involuntarily, Scully shuddered. As much as Mulder's voice could caress her when he said her name, this man's voice was venomous. But he mistook her reaction for something entirely different.
"You like that, sweetie?" he murmured, reaching out to touch her, then stopping. "I need your weapon."
Scully reached back and retrieved her Sig. Mulder stared. When did she put that on?
"Such a big gun for such a little lady." He said, setting it on the floor with Mulder's. Cheyenne advanced, then set one of the bombs on the floor a few feet away from Scully. "But is that all you got?"
He reached out with his free hand and touched her sides, rubbing up and down her rib cage in what he thought she considered a sensual act. Only Mulder could see the ice in Scully's eyes, the hatred for a killer. Then Cheyenne grabbed the back of her head and tried to kiss her, but was surprised by a sound blow to the jaw.
'Now why does that look familiar?' Mulder wondered, thinking of the Queen Anne. Scully was mad now more than ever, but she tried to calm down. She didn't want him getting angry. But she was damned if she was going to apologize—or let him touch her again. Josep licked his lips hungrily.
"Feisty." He growled, and grabbed her hands so she couldn't hit him again, kissing her roughly. Mulder was about to beat the crap out of him, bombs be damned, but Manuel immediately started stuttering again.
"Uh—Josep. You're assaulting an FBI agent, Josep. We're going to get in trouble…"
"Oh, do shut up." Cheyenne spun around, drawing his own Glock and shooting Manuel in the chest.
"No!" Mulder shouted too late. He tackled Cheyenne and Scully ran to Manuel, whose life was slowly oozing out of him. She pressed down on the wound hard, feeling the blood hot and sticky between her fingers. He was so far gone she doubted anything short of the best damn doctors in the country could save him. He seemed to sense that, and gasped out his last words.
"You keep me in this pain?" she knew it was up to her. Someone had to tell him it was ok to die. She bit her lip.
"Let go, Manuel." She said softly. "Go in peace."
And he was gone.
Meanwhile, Mulder had knocked the gun from Cheyenne's hand and they were going at it with blows and kicks. Scully tried to grab Mulder's T-126 from the floor, but her hands were still slippery with blood. She groaned in frustration, then wiped her hands off and slipped her T-130 out of it's holster on her leg and thumbed the safety off silently. She hated the rage that was welling up inside her, but something had to be done before Mulder was hurt. Cheyenne had her partner by the neck, and she glided up behind the drug lord and pressed the warm metal of the gun against the back of his neck.
"Hurt him… and so help me God. You will not live to see the light of day again." Her voice was pure steel and Cheyenne slowly released his hold on Mulder's neck. Scully pushed Cheyenne off to the side a little, keeping her gun trained on his back. "Mulder, can you handle this?"
He seemed disoriented for a moment, just staring at her. Then he shook himself and scooped Scully's Sig off the floor and began reading their prisoner his rights. Scully saw through the big glass window that the lobby had been evacuated and police officers were milling around. Someone must've called them when the guns came out.
Slowly she made her way down the enclosed hallway that separated Courts 1, 2, 3, and 4 from 5, 6, 7, and 8. Taking a deep breath, she pushed the door open and entered the throng of people. In the corner, talking with Becca, was none other than Walter Skinner. When he saw her he allowed Becca to leave—which she did, and quickly. Scully approached him.
"Sir?"
"Scully…" he stared at her. "Agent Scully, what—" he gestured at her and she looked down. Her previously white t-shirt was a grotesque shade of red, soaked with a dead man's blood. There were faint handprints on her shorts where she'd wiped her hands off. And now she realized that she was trembling uncontrollably.
"Can—can you excuse me please? Sir?" she asked faintly. Then, without waiting for an answer, she walked quickly into the vacant locker room.
Scully stood in front of the mirror in the bathroom section, looking blankly at the blood. There was so much of it… she let out a frustrated cry and yanked at the handle of the faucet. Rubbing her hands together fiercely under the water, she cursed Josep Cheyenne again and again, hoping it would relieve her anger; the sick feeling that wouldn't go away.
It didn't work. She still felt filthy. Something was wrong.
Mulder escorted Cheyenne into the lobby and a police officer offered to take him down to the station. The agent readily agreed, then went up to his superior.
"Agent Mulder?"
"The girls are in the basement of his house a few blocks from here. The address is 254 Chestnut Avenue. He hasn't confessed to the murders in 1990, but we can arrest him on possession and VICAP can question him at the station. His was the only gun fired. Here." Mulder handed the weapon over in an evidence bag.
"Good work, Agent Mulder." The shocked look brought forth a soft laugh. "Don't look so stunned. You did what you had to do."
"Yeah—uh, where's Agent Scully?"
"In there." He motioned to the locker room.
"Alone?"
"I think so." Mulder looked worried. "Agent Mulder?"
"Excuse me." He muttered, and pushed through the door. "Scully?" There was no answer. His stomach twisted when he saw the blood-soaked shirt lying on the bathroom floor, rolled into a ball. Where was she? "Scully?"
Still no one replied. He strained his ears and thought he heard something. Running water. None of the faucets were on. Were there showers in here? But why wasn't she answering him? He stepped into the locker area and saw another exit with towels hanging near the doorway. The water sounded louder now. Completely abandoning any hope of a slow approach, he raced in.
"Scully!" Mulder turned a corner and stopped short. In one of the marble stalls was his partner.
She was still fully clothed, aside from the fact that she'd stripped the bloody shirt he'd found in the bathroom off and had a tight navy tank top on that had been under it. Her hair was already dark and straggly, and water was streaming down her face—but she didn't seem to notice. She stood straight against the wall of the tiny space, her arms at her sides, fists clenched. Mulder watched her struggle to breathe, her chest rising and falling as she gasped for breath. Slowly he reached out and turned off the water. Scully didn't seem to notice.
Mulder grabbed a large white towel from a nearby rack and approached her cautiously. She was still shaking. The towel, when draped over her shoulders, was ignored. She turned her head toward him slowly, and her body sagged.
"Mulder…" she whispered, and he jumped forward, pulling her close to him. The moisture on her clothes soaked into his skin and she took two handfuls of the front of his shirt and buried her face in his chest. Mulder drew the towel around her more tightly and held her against him. Neither spoke for a long while.
Finally, Scully looked up at her partner and bit her lip. She led him to the benches by the lockers and they sat down.
"I'm—I don't know what's wrong with me, Mulder. First after Skinner collapsed and now this?"
"Well, I can understand Skinner; someone you cared about almost died. But I—I'm a little confused about Cheyenne."
"No one's ever forced themselves on me like that." She said at length, looking him in the eye. "He would've raped me, Mulder. Right there, if he'd been angry enough. He is so inscenced against women that he needs to lull them into a false sense of security before killing them."
"The affairs."
"That's what I think."
"You're probably right." Mindful of the fact that Scully was probably a little uneasy about physical contact right now, Mulder simply kissed the top of her head. As he started to rise, Scully grabbed his arm and spoke in that impossibly low voice he'd grown to love.
"I don't mind being kissed by you, Mulder. You're not him."
Mulder grinned and slid his lips onto hers gently. Then he took her hand and helped her off the bench. And as they walked back out into the lobby, Scully touched her lips lightly for half a second, and realized that she felt different than she had when she first came in here.
She felt clean.
End part 2/??