THE THIRD LETTER
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I was watching Mulder closely from my desk, expecting a reaction from him.
But none came. He was still sitting on his chair, his hands now resting flat on the table.
He didn't seem *very* surprised about the letter, as if he knew that it would come.
I wish he would speak to me...he hasn't said a word since he opened the damn envelope. I
don't want him to put up walls around him, so that nothing can reach him. He can't behave
like that - I am here!
My last sentence was not screamed aloud as I hoped it had been, but he raised his head and
looked toward me.
His eyes scared me: they were kind of empty, reflecting nothing...as if everything had been
drained from them.
I sighed deeply, knowing perfectly well that if I didn't start to speak, we would still be here
sharing this awkward silence at midnight...
"Mulder?"
He stared at me intently, something flickering in his eyes. They seemed to beg me to say
something, anything, as if I had the power to give the right answer to any question, and that I
could resolve any problem and make things right.
I was hurt and sad, and I wanted to cry right now just watching his eyes, because I couldn't do
any of that...and because Mulder thought for a second that I could.
But I had to be the strong one in this, so I spoke again in a lower voice.
"You knew there were going to be more letters, didn't you?"
He lowered his head again, and answered without looking at me:
"Yes. I expected more...and I thought I was ready for them."
"But you're not." I finished for him.
He nodded, and gave me a half smile.
"I'm sorry about yesterday...it was late when I arrived home, and I didn't want to wake you
up by calling you."
I wasn't expecting him to apologize, or to bring this up. But maybe he was just trying to
change the subject of our current conversation about the letters and avoiding my questions.
"You should have called...I was worried. And anyway, I couldn't sleep."
I stared at him too, so that he had no choice but to meet my eyes.
"I missed you... I missed you talking nonsense in your sleep and taking all the covers."
I had a big list about all the things I'd missed last night, but I didn't think it was the best
moment to talk about it.
We've never really brought up the subject about living together seriously...well, apart from
the fact that we would go mad being constantly around each other it could be nice...
"I missed you too..." He answered honestly.
I knew he must have the same kind of list about all the things he missed about me not being
with him for the night, but he couldn't say them aloud yet. He felt really uncomfortable, and it
saddened me, but I couldn't blame him. After all, Mulder *was* uncomfortable about almost
everything too personal: the letters were a good example about his awkwardness, he wouldn't
speak about it.
"Come on, Mulder... We can't work right now - it's impossible. Let's give this report to
Skinner and head home, we both need some rest and staying here won't change a thing."
I was glad to see that he agreed, and he didn't say a word before we arrived at the parking lot.
When I saw him reaching for his car keys, I stopped his arm and asked:
"What are you doing?"
He looked at me, perplexed, and answered.
"I...hum, going home? Aren't you going to do the same?"
I smiled, and took his hand in mine.
"Well, not exactly. I *am* going home, but not alone."
"Scully..."
"No, Mulder. I'm not leaving you alone tonight, you're coming with me whether you like it or
not!"
He smiled at my last sentence, and we *both* headed home.
XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX
I was glad to find Mulder lying right next to me the following morning.
He probably had come to bed very late, because I couldn't remember him entering my
bedroom last night. I had left him sitting on my couch after his refusal to go to sleep. He had
said that he needed time alone to think, as if he wasn't already doing it all the time, and I had
preferred to let him be.
But he had apparently made up his mind, and decided to get some sleep.
He was facing me now, still fast asleep. His mouth was slightly open and his brow frowned.
Only Mulder could look as if he was still thinking hard in his sleep, but that was probably
what he was doing.
He scares me sometimes, thinking so much...and I know that he'd scared and still scares a lot
of people in the Bureau by doing so. It must be one of the many reasons why they gave him
that strange nickname.
"Spooky..." I murmured aloud.
He opened his eyes and, when I saw that sparks were finally shining in them again, I smiled
deeply and hugged him.
I could feel him smiling near my neck, and I heard him saying in his creepy morning voice:
"Gee, Scully... Why do you have to call me that when I wake up? It sounded like a bad
dream..."
"Bad dream, huh?" I answered, moving away from his embrace so that I could look into his
eyes.
He smiled again and, with a lopsided grin, got up from the bed.
"What time did you get to bed?" I asked him, doing the same.
"You mean, at what time did I *crash* on your bed?"
"Yeah Mulder, whatever..."
"When I stopped being able to think straight...around four I'd say."
I nodded, wondering how he could manage to look so cheerful after three hours sleep.
"I'm going to make some coffee, why don't you take a shower?"
He looked maliciously at me, and I spoke before he could add anything that he would regret:
"And no, Mulder...we don't have time so hurry up!"
He smiled despite my comment and headed toward the bathroom but not before saying:
"Ahh, Scully... Why did you have to say that? It's not as if I was going to ask you if you
cared to join me?"
"Of course not, Mulder..."
I didn't wait for another smart-ass answer of his and rushed to the kitchen, suddenly very
hungry...
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We arrived at the office laughing like idiots because of all the strange looks we were given
after I slapped him on his...well, on his *very* lower back.
I had almost forgotten about the letter thing, but I realized Mulder hadn't stopped thinking
about it for a second when I saw his reaction to a new one, waiting for him on his desk.
He sighed, resigned, but when he saw that not one but *two* letters had been left he shrugged
his shoulders.
One of them was a manila envelope, and he seemed to cool down when he opened it.
"It's just the bank..."
But then the look in his eyes turned from relief to anguish. As he wasn't saying anything, I
pushed him toward an answer:
"What? What is it, Mulder? Is there a problem?"
"Hum, yeah...kind of. There's something wrong with one of my father's bank account."
I was perplexed, but once again, I had to ask him another question so that he'd carry on.
"What do you mean?"
"When my father died, I had to take care of all this stuff... I thought everything was in order,
but apparently they found that something was missing."
"Missing? What is missing, Mulder?"
"I don't know...yet. But I have to go."
"To the bank? Now?!"
"Yes, they make it sound really important; I don't have a choice."
"But..."
"Don't worry..." He interrupted me, already opening the office's door "...I'll be back soon,
the bank is not very far from D.C."
I had no time to say anything else because he was already gone.
I stood where I was for a while, trying to figure out exactly what could be missing in a bank
account. It sounded weird, and it was surprising coming from Mulder that he was rushing
there without any more information.
But then I understood, it was his *father's* bank account, maybe he thought he could find
something in relation to the letters.
"Damn it, Mulder..." I said aloud "..why did you have to ditch me again and go there
alone?"
Then, as my eyes wandered around the office, I realized something: the plain envelope with
his name typed was still on his desk, unopened...he hadn't taken it with him. In fact, I think
he completely forgot about it.
I looked intently at it, as if I could read what was written in it without having to open it.
*Should* I open it? It was Mulder's personal business, but he wasn't here.
My curiosity got the better of me, and I found myself tearing it open.
"THE SON WILL SCREAM IN PAIN TONIGHT"
It took my breath away. I dropped it quickly on the desk, as if it had caught on fire but my
fingers were not burning. My eyes were, however.
And then I got it, as I saw the discarded manila envelope on Mulder's desk: why were the two
envelopes together? Mulder never finds his mail on his desk, apart from those letters.
It meant that the two envelopes had come from the very same person.
"My God, Mulder...it's a trap!!"
TO BE CONTINUED...
XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX
This chapter was longer than the others, that's why you had to wait for it...
I'm sorry... I know how cruel it is to stop here but, well...the chapter's title was "The Third
Letter"!
Anyway, I already started to write the next part, so it shouldn't take too much time.
Don't forget to let me know what you think about the story so far!!
XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX
I was watching Mulder closely from my desk, expecting a reaction from him.
But none came. He was still sitting on his chair, his hands now resting flat on the table.
He didn't seem *very* surprised about the letter, as if he knew that it would come.
I wish he would speak to me...he hasn't said a word since he opened the damn envelope. I
don't want him to put up walls around him, so that nothing can reach him. He can't behave
like that - I am here!
My last sentence was not screamed aloud as I hoped it had been, but he raised his head and
looked toward me.
His eyes scared me: they were kind of empty, reflecting nothing...as if everything had been
drained from them.
I sighed deeply, knowing perfectly well that if I didn't start to speak, we would still be here
sharing this awkward silence at midnight...
"Mulder?"
He stared at me intently, something flickering in his eyes. They seemed to beg me to say
something, anything, as if I had the power to give the right answer to any question, and that I
could resolve any problem and make things right.
I was hurt and sad, and I wanted to cry right now just watching his eyes, because I couldn't do
any of that...and because Mulder thought for a second that I could.
But I had to be the strong one in this, so I spoke again in a lower voice.
"You knew there were going to be more letters, didn't you?"
He lowered his head again, and answered without looking at me:
"Yes. I expected more...and I thought I was ready for them."
"But you're not." I finished for him.
He nodded, and gave me a half smile.
"I'm sorry about yesterday...it was late when I arrived home, and I didn't want to wake you
up by calling you."
I wasn't expecting him to apologize, or to bring this up. But maybe he was just trying to
change the subject of our current conversation about the letters and avoiding my questions.
"You should have called...I was worried. And anyway, I couldn't sleep."
I stared at him too, so that he had no choice but to meet my eyes.
"I missed you... I missed you talking nonsense in your sleep and taking all the covers."
I had a big list about all the things I'd missed last night, but I didn't think it was the best
moment to talk about it.
We've never really brought up the subject about living together seriously...well, apart from
the fact that we would go mad being constantly around each other it could be nice...
"I missed you too..." He answered honestly.
I knew he must have the same kind of list about all the things he missed about me not being
with him for the night, but he couldn't say them aloud yet. He felt really uncomfortable, and it
saddened me, but I couldn't blame him. After all, Mulder *was* uncomfortable about almost
everything too personal: the letters were a good example about his awkwardness, he wouldn't
speak about it.
"Come on, Mulder... We can't work right now - it's impossible. Let's give this report to
Skinner and head home, we both need some rest and staying here won't change a thing."
I was glad to see that he agreed, and he didn't say a word before we arrived at the parking lot.
When I saw him reaching for his car keys, I stopped his arm and asked:
"What are you doing?"
He looked at me, perplexed, and answered.
"I...hum, going home? Aren't you going to do the same?"
I smiled, and took his hand in mine.
"Well, not exactly. I *am* going home, but not alone."
"Scully..."
"No, Mulder. I'm not leaving you alone tonight, you're coming with me whether you like it or
not!"
He smiled at my last sentence, and we *both* headed home.
XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX
I was glad to find Mulder lying right next to me the following morning.
He probably had come to bed very late, because I couldn't remember him entering my
bedroom last night. I had left him sitting on my couch after his refusal to go to sleep. He had
said that he needed time alone to think, as if he wasn't already doing it all the time, and I had
preferred to let him be.
But he had apparently made up his mind, and decided to get some sleep.
He was facing me now, still fast asleep. His mouth was slightly open and his brow frowned.
Only Mulder could look as if he was still thinking hard in his sleep, but that was probably
what he was doing.
He scares me sometimes, thinking so much...and I know that he'd scared and still scares a lot
of people in the Bureau by doing so. It must be one of the many reasons why they gave him
that strange nickname.
"Spooky..." I murmured aloud.
He opened his eyes and, when I saw that sparks were finally shining in them again, I smiled
deeply and hugged him.
I could feel him smiling near my neck, and I heard him saying in his creepy morning voice:
"Gee, Scully... Why do you have to call me that when I wake up? It sounded like a bad
dream..."
"Bad dream, huh?" I answered, moving away from his embrace so that I could look into his
eyes.
He smiled again and, with a lopsided grin, got up from the bed.
"What time did you get to bed?" I asked him, doing the same.
"You mean, at what time did I *crash* on your bed?"
"Yeah Mulder, whatever..."
"When I stopped being able to think straight...around four I'd say."
I nodded, wondering how he could manage to look so cheerful after three hours sleep.
"I'm going to make some coffee, why don't you take a shower?"
He looked maliciously at me, and I spoke before he could add anything that he would regret:
"And no, Mulder...we don't have time so hurry up!"
He smiled despite my comment and headed toward the bathroom but not before saying:
"Ahh, Scully... Why did you have to say that? It's not as if I was going to ask you if you
cared to join me?"
"Of course not, Mulder..."
I didn't wait for another smart-ass answer of his and rushed to the kitchen, suddenly very
hungry...
XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX
We arrived at the office laughing like idiots because of all the strange looks we were given
after I slapped him on his...well, on his *very* lower back.
I had almost forgotten about the letter thing, but I realized Mulder hadn't stopped thinking
about it for a second when I saw his reaction to a new one, waiting for him on his desk.
He sighed, resigned, but when he saw that not one but *two* letters had been left he shrugged
his shoulders.
One of them was a manila envelope, and he seemed to cool down when he opened it.
"It's just the bank..."
But then the look in his eyes turned from relief to anguish. As he wasn't saying anything, I
pushed him toward an answer:
"What? What is it, Mulder? Is there a problem?"
"Hum, yeah...kind of. There's something wrong with one of my father's bank account."
I was perplexed, but once again, I had to ask him another question so that he'd carry on.
"What do you mean?"
"When my father died, I had to take care of all this stuff... I thought everything was in order,
but apparently they found that something was missing."
"Missing? What is missing, Mulder?"
"I don't know...yet. But I have to go."
"To the bank? Now?!"
"Yes, they make it sound really important; I don't have a choice."
"But..."
"Don't worry..." He interrupted me, already opening the office's door "...I'll be back soon,
the bank is not very far from D.C."
I had no time to say anything else because he was already gone.
I stood where I was for a while, trying to figure out exactly what could be missing in a bank
account. It sounded weird, and it was surprising coming from Mulder that he was rushing
there without any more information.
But then I understood, it was his *father's* bank account, maybe he thought he could find
something in relation to the letters.
"Damn it, Mulder..." I said aloud "..why did you have to ditch me again and go there
alone?"
Then, as my eyes wandered around the office, I realized something: the plain envelope with
his name typed was still on his desk, unopened...he hadn't taken it with him. In fact, I think
he completely forgot about it.
I looked intently at it, as if I could read what was written in it without having to open it.
*Should* I open it? It was Mulder's personal business, but he wasn't here.
My curiosity got the better of me, and I found myself tearing it open.
"THE SON WILL SCREAM IN PAIN TONIGHT"
It took my breath away. I dropped it quickly on the desk, as if it had caught on fire but my
fingers were not burning. My eyes were, however.
And then I got it, as I saw the discarded manila envelope on Mulder's desk: why were the two
envelopes together? Mulder never finds his mail on his desk, apart from those letters.
It meant that the two envelopes had come from the very same person.
"My God, Mulder...it's a trap!!"
TO BE CONTINUED...
XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX
This chapter was longer than the others, that's why you had to wait for it...
I'm sorry... I know how cruel it is to stop here but, well...the chapter's title was "The Third
Letter"!
Anyway, I already started to write the next part, so it shouldn't take too much time.
Don't forget to let me know what you think about the story so far!!