Title: The River
Author: CeilidhO
Summary: What if Scully had accepted the transfer to Salt Lake City? Three years later, she and her new partner are assigned to a bizarre string of kidnappings, with terrifying and dangerous results. (Prequel to "Disciple")
Disclaimer: I own nothing, Chris Carter owns everything. (Except the characters I invent.) We all know the drill. Please don't sue me.
- - -
Millard County, Utah
August 23, 2001
5:13 am
Three years later
The Sheriff's Department car sped along the highway, flashing through the narrow road, following the twists of the river. On one side, the desert mountains loomed, faintly red and grey in the early morning light, and on the other marshland stretched to the flat, green river.
Deputy Martin Orrens chewed his gum loudly, tapping his fingers rhythmically on the window in time to the faint music creeping from the radio. His partner glanced over in irritation, his grasp tightening on the steering wheel.
"Jesus-god, Orrens. You gotta do that?"
"Yup," Orrens muttered smugly. "The music just compels me, Kemp. I gotta follow the muse."
Kemp sighed loudly. "Jesus-god," he repeated. "I need a coffee."
Suddenly Orrens flailed at the window, his eyes wide. "Curt! Godamnit, Curtis, pull over right now."
Kemp's mouth twisted into a mocking grin. "What, you that sensitive…" His gaze followed his partner's as the car slid to a halt, and the joke died in his mouth. At the bank of the river, something small and white was sprawled, horribly still. Both men spilled out of the car and clambered over the shoulder, landing calf-deep in sludge. Kemp pulled out his radio.
"Hey, dispatch, this is Deputy Curtis Kemp. I'm out at the Sevier River, right in the middle of nowhere. Orrens and I think we got a floater, washed up right at the bank. We're going in to take a look."
The disembodied voice crackled back down the line. "Negative, Kemp. Don't go in. If it's a crime scene and you guys mess it up, we're all in for some serious shit."
Kemp pressed the button to reply. "That's a copy, dispatch, we'll-"
"Kemp! Holy shit, Curt, I think she's breathing!"
"The hell?" Kemp swung around and caught sight of Orrens, already at the edge of the river, kneeling beside the prone figure. He was almost eighty yards away. Kemp began to run, the mud and grass clawing at his legs, the forgotten radio crackling at his side.
- - -
FBI Field Office
Salt Lake City, Utah
6:48 am
Special Agent Dana Scully hurtled through the front doors of the gleaming office tower, her hair in rare disarray, her shirt untucked. Michael, the security guard, waved her past, nodding a sleepy greeting as she set off the metal detector on her rapid passage to the elevator.
She hammered on the 'up' button, shifting her weight in frustration as she watched the machine's leisurely downward progress on the lighted indicators. When it finally yawned open in front of her, she burst through and smacked the button for the fifth floor. Her stomach lurched with the motion, and she hastily tried to neaten her appearance.
When the doors slid open to the gleaming plush of the executive floor, Scully strode out of the cabin and hurried to the last door on her right. The soft lighting lit up the sign saying 'G. Chilton' as the luminous wooden door swung on its hinges. The secretary in the first room waved her through.
Inside the second room, a desk stood in front of an enormous picture window, dimly showing a magnificent view of downtown Salt Lake and the snow-capped mountains beyond. The desk and its occupant were dark and featureless against the faint light, but Scully recognized the man seated behind it, as well as the one in front.
"Assistant Director," Scully said breathlessly, as soon as she was close enough. "I came as fast as I could."
The older man nodded. "Take a seat, Agent Scully. I believe you know Special Agent Dan Morris, from downstairs in Violent Crimes."
Scully smiled tightly. "Yes I do. Agent Morris, it's a pleasure to see you again."
"Likewise," he said firmly. "I've always been very impressed with your work, especially on that Snow-Mummy case. That guy had been frozen for what, twenty years, and you still got an ID, prints, cause of death, everything. You really cracked that case for us, Agent Scully."
"If we're done with the small talk," Chilton interrupted. "Let's get on with the matter at hand." Scully sat in the second chair across from the desk as he continued. "Now, we just got a call from the Millard County Sheriff's office. They found a young woman, unconscious, on the bank of the Sevier River, on a routine patrol earlier this morning. Miraculously, she's alive, and I'm sending the two of you down to investigate this with the local PD and Sheriff as an isolated abduction and assault case, but in actuality it matches up with two others from about eight and ten months ago, in Kane County."
Agent Morris shifted in his seat. "What makes them similar?"
"Not similar, exact. All are young women of about twenty-five, found at the side of a river, fully clothed, with this on their chests." He shoved a large photograph across the desk's surface.
It was of a woman's front, her hands modestly covering her breasts, her skin pale and pasty from the river water. Across the sternum, in an arc from breast to breast, was the word "MINE".
Scully squinted in incredulity at the photo. She lifted her gaze back to the Assistant Director after a moment. "Sir, how is this put on them? Permanent marker, body paint, lacerations…"
"None of the above, Agent Scully," he declared. "Get this: the son of a bitch tattoos it on them."
Morris whistled, low in his throat. "Any sign of sexual molestation?" he asked Chilton, still staring at the photograph.
"They were raped more than once," he answered. "But they were left alive, at least."
"Any indication of how long he kept them?" Scully asked.
"As close as they can guess, about three days. That matches up with the Missing Persons reports filed before they were found." A long moment passed, and the sun peeked over the mountains, suddenly lighting the office in a bright radiance. Chilton sighed, and pushed a small envelope across the desk. "There're your tickets on the 8:20 to Delta. Pack for about four days. I expect a call at 1800 hours tonight." He swivelled the chair to face the window, dismissing them with a gesture.
To the east, the sun wrenched itself free of the mountains, and the day was begun.
- - -
Scully slid into her bucket seat on the tiny airplane, and clipped in her seatbelt with a sigh. Agent Morris turned to her with a smile.
"Not a fan of planes, Agent Scully?"
She grimaced. "Not entirely, no. Especially not ones this small." The propeller spluttered outside. The tarmac was hazy in the heat.
"Don't worry about it, Agent," he said kindly. "I travel on these contraptions all the time."
"There's no need to be patronizing, Agent Morris," she said icily. "It's not as if I usually travel in a horse and buggy."
He raised his hands and shrugged. "Suit yourself. I was just trying to be friendly." He returned his gaze to the window, intent on the busy comings and goings on the tarmac.
Scully glanced over at him curiously. Most people were more upset about the way she kept her distance, but Agent Morris genuinely seemed to understand. His lightly lined face seemed completely free of venom, as were his grey eyes. The light from outside played across his features, making his eyes sparkle in the clear morning sun.
"No, I'm sorry, Agent Morris," Scully found herself saying. "I'm just not very articulate with those I don't know very well."
The older man's eyes were still sparkling when he replied. "I know, Agent Scully. I just want to give you some time to get to know me, you know, not push anything. If we're going to be partners, I'd rather that you didn't hate my guts."
She smiled despite herself. "I hope your usual partner isn't upset about being left out."
"Oh, no, I don't have a partner anymore," Morris said quietly. "My old one, Agent Hasbruck, retired about two months ago. They've just kept me off field work until a new one could be found. What about yours?"
Mulder. "Oh, I haven't had one in a long time," she said carefully. "The only people I work with are technicians and scientists. There isn't really much call for someone to watch your back." At Morris' expression, Scully continued quickly. "But don't worry, I'm completely competent. In Washington, I took part in enough fieldwork to last me the rest of my career, at least." Mulder. Stop it. Don't think about him.
Morris chuckled. "I never doubted it for a second, Agent Scully." He stuck out his hand. "How about a more usual introduction? Daniel Morris. Dan."
Scully clasped his hand with a smile. "Dana Scully."
The engines picked up with a high-pitched whine, and the plane began its ascent.
- - -
Almost two hours later, Scully and Agent Morris pulled into the parking lot of the Millard County Sheriff's department in the small town of Delta. To their surprise, the area outside the door was swarming with police and police cars. Colors and emblems from at least three different jurisdictions could be seen blending in the throng. Periodically, a flashbulb went off, signalling the presence of reporters. Scully turned to Morris in confusion.
"Chilton didn't imply that this case was high profile, did he?"
He shook his head, his eyebrows knitted. "I don't think they're here for us. That's another FBI carpool vehicle over there, and I know that we're the only agents on our case. But what else could it be about?"
They pushed through, and, after presenting their badges to the dour officer standing in front of the doors, were ushered into the chaotic beehive of the office. They were met by the harried looking Sheriff, his voice almost drowned out by the constant ringing of phones.
"Agent Scully? Agent Morris? If you'll please just step on over there, my deputy will help you. I've got some things I gotta clear up, but I'll be with you just as soon as I can." He started back out into the throng, but Scully called after him.
"Sheriff Elgin? If you don't mind me asking, what's going on here?"
He shook his head at her. "Ask the deputy, ma'am. I can't talk at the moment."
Scully raised her eyebrow. "Well, I suppose we should find the deputy then." She and Morris struggled their way over to the corner office the Sheriff had indicated, and as soon as the wood veneer door was shut behind them the cacophony was dimmed. A man in a rumpled uniform stood as they entered, his hand outstretched.
"Agents? I'm Deputy Curtis Kemp." His voice was quiet, with a pleasant desert twang tingeing the edges of the words. His brown eyes were strong and forthright, as was his handshake.
"Deputy Kemp," Morris said, after the introductions had gone around and they were seated at the small table. "It was you and your partner, Deputy…"
"Orrens."
"Right, sorry, Deputy Orrens who found the victim, is that right?"
"That's correct. And her name is Jolene."
"Thank you, we haven't had too much time to prep for this, as you can probably tell. We'd appreciate any help you can give us." Smart, Scully thought. Very smart. Morris continued: "What can you tell us about Jolene? Her physical state, mental state…"
Kemp gazed into space for a moment. "Well, she's really beat up. He raped her, and cut her a couple of times, and it looks like he may have hit her pretty hard, too. She's got bruises and she's real timid right now. She's only been awake about three hours. I've been with her since we found her."
Scully leaned forward slightly. "If you don't mind, Officer Kemp, what's going on outside?"
"Have you ever heard of the Choir case, Agent Scully?"
"Possibly…" she said, thinking. Dan Morris cut in.
"For about the last, what, four years?"
"Four years, yeah." Kemp confirmed.
"For the last four years, various jurisdictions have been finding the mutilated bodies of young boys, dumped off the sides of highways."
"It's called the Choir case," Kemp picked up. "Because the first victims were all church choir singers. That's the only link they've been able to find, though."
"I think I remember the papers talking about it," Scully said. "I apologize, Deputy. We should get to the matter at hand."
Kemp stood. "Better than that, I'll show you. Jolene's at the county hospital in Fillmore. I'll take you."
As the desert flashed past the windows of the Sheriff's department car, Scully felt the pull of her sudden waking earlier that morning begin to drag on her eyelids. She fell into a sort of doze, her mind wandering without direction. In a sudden snap, Mulder's face loomed before her, the scent of his body filling her nostrils.
His face, so close she can see each hair in his stubble…His lips, brushing hers for a split second of electric joy, and the acid voice that slithers into her mind.
'Kiss it and make it better… That's all he's doing. He doesn't really mean it…'
"Mulder, no. I can't. I have to-" His face, suddenly further away as she pulls back.
"What's wrong, Scully? Don't you-"
The car jerked to a stop in front of a tall cement hospital, banishing Mulder to the exile of memory, and leaving her fully awake, alone with the cold anguish of loss.
Shaking off the cold like a blanket, she stepped out of the car. The building before her held her future, and Scully strode forward to meet it, burning the shivering pain off like a fog, preparing herself to face the darkness.
The hospital smelled overwhelmingly of disinfectant. It cleared Scully's head as they stepped through the whisper of the automatic doors, into the almost tranquil interior of the county hospital. Deputy Kemp spoke briefly to the nurse on duty, and then gestured for Scully and Morris to follow him down the gleaming laminate hallway.
The fluorescent strip lights shone in a white diffusion as they set off down the hall. One was broken, and flickered irregularly, buzzing at the edge of Scully's senses. It finally went out as they reached the grey door, and Kemp ushered them inside.
"Hey there, Jolene," he said weakly, to the still form lost in the bed sheets. "I've brought the FBI agents that I told you about before. You okay to talk now?"
"Sure, Curt. I can talk." The form struggled to sit upright. Scully walked closer, and made out a pale face, lost in bruises, cuts, and stiff dried tears. The eyes, however, blazed out with strength.
Scully stuck out her hand. "I'm Agent Dana Scully, and this is Agent Dan Morris. How are you feeling, Jolene?"
The eyes sharpened. "How do you think I'm feeling? I look a butchered cow."
"I'm sorry, that was a terrible question…" Scully trailed off, unsure of how to continue. The victims she usually encountered were straight out of refrigeration, not college. "To be blunt, would you mind if I took a look at some of your injuries? I'm a medical doctor."
A pale smile flickered across Jolene's face. "A doctor and an FBI agent, huh? A right poster girl for women's lib."
"I'd like to think so," Scully said lightly, returning the smile. As Jolene reached for the ties at the back of her gown, Morris and Kemp excused themselves quietly.
Jolene eased the gown of her shoulders, small groaning noises escaping her lips, involuntarily. Scully felt sickness rise in her throat as the fabric slid over the wasteland of the woman's body.
Puckered and angry welts rose like mountain ranges, charging their way through her flesh. Many still gaped horribly, thick crusts of fluid caking at their edges. Scully could see one spot on her shoulder where she had been bitten, the pattern marred intentionally with the thin precision of a razor. Whip thin razor cuts were beginning to heal, criss-crossing her legs. There were a few more on her arms. Everywhere that was not cut was bruised. Scully could only see one spot of unmarked flesh on her whole back, and it shone like a heavenly beacon of sanity.
Tears sprang to Scully's eyes. Her hand hovered over her mouth, miraculously whole and healthy. It seemed impossible that any whole flesh should exist after what she saw before her. Scully struggled to drown her emotions.
"Jolene, could you turn around fully, please?" she managed. "I need to see the tattoo."
The woman turned slowly, her hands cupping her breasts modestly. Her breasts seemed like they should be the least offensive part of her. And there it was- the thick black letters, curving in an arc across the chest, stark against the mercifully clear skin surrounding it.
MINEScully shivered. "Jolene, I completely understand if you're not ready to talk just yet, but can you tell me about the tattoo?"
"The tattoo?" she spat out. "Shit, Agent Scully, I'll tell you about all of them. I wanna see this sumbitch put away."
Scully hovered her fingers over the tattoo, shocked by the menace she could almost feel radiating from it. "Go ahead, then," she managed to grate out.
"He put that on me yesterday, or the day before that. Not too long ago. He used a brand first, then tattooed into the burn. To make sure it stuck, he said. And then he stuck me."
Scully flinched from the brutal honesty. "Did he say anything particular about it, about its significance?"
"Just that it was as good as any purebred dog or horse tattoo. It marked me, you know, marked me out as his. That's all."
Tucking a strand of hair behind her ear, Scully blinked rapidly. "What about the other injuries?" She wished she was wearing a lab coat. It gave her permission to be distant, impersonal, safe behind a white polyester veneer of professionalism.
"He used the razor first, cause it healed fast, and after that, he used knives and scissors. But, um, after every time, he poured iodine or alcohol or something that burned on the cuts. That's why they've taken so long to heal. Sometimes, when he was tired, he'd just open up old ones. He raped me almost every day."
Scully was almost sick right there. She closed her eyes, feeling the rushing torment of her senses. "Jolene…" she began, but the other woman cut her off.
"I don't want your pity, godamnit. I just want your help. I only need your help."
They were silent for a long time.
Back at the Sheriff's Department in Delta, Scully poured over photographs of Jolene and the other two victims, tiny grains of the chewable antacid still caked in her molars. Across the worn desk, Dan Morris sighed and his hand down his face.
"Jesus, Scully. This guy is brutal. And he's escalating. That's never a good combination."
Scully rubbed her eyes, and glanced at her watch. 12:31 am. "I know its not. We'd better work fast, and hard."
Dan looked at her with veiled amusement. "But not tonight, not right now. Right now, we'd better get to our motel before Chilton calls out missing persons. C'mon, Dana, on your feet. It's time to sleep."
She wearily let him usher her to the car, and they drove through the summer air with the windows down. The desert almost glowed under the stars and the warmth, and Scully let it caress her face, soothing her eyes and her heart. The moon was half full, and it played silver across her face. She wondered absently if Mulder had any wacky theories about the moon.
The car pulled into the lot of a clean looking motel, and the ignition shuddered silent. Dan got out, and set off down the canopied walkway to the office. After a moment, he returned with a very sleepy owner, who muttered under his breath as he unlocked their doors and shoved the keys into their hands. Scully wearily retrieved her bags from the trunk, and murmured a subdued goodnight to Dan as she shut the door behind her, and collapsed onto the bed.
The next morning dawned early, and Scully found herself suddenly awake at exactly five o'clock. She stared at the ceiling, allowing her mind a second to adjust from the warmth of sleep, and then she was up and moving around the room. She dressed in a pair of jeans and a sweatshirt, sliding her glasses onto her face with a careless push of her hand. She normally wouldn't venture out into the world without her contacts, but today felt different.
She opened the door with a small groan of the hinges, loving the way the pearly, moist air cupped her face, a slight breeze teasing her hair and her cheeks. The sky was a smudged mix of pale purple and gold, blue and lightest red. The desert looked almost grey under the diffuse light, and the mountains seemed to almost drip moisture. The sand and rock gloried in the damp before the sunrise climbed over the tops of the mountains.
Scully set off barefoot through the gravel parking lot, feeling the tiny stones shift beneath her feet, soft with dust. After a moment, she reached the small lawn behind the row of rooms, and slid her toes through the grass, smiling at the way the dew drops broke and ran across her skin, tiny rivers of cool, thick sensation. The air was so gentle against her skin that it was almost intangible, but that much more glorious because she could feel it, like the lightest of kisses. Her smile spread.
After a few more steps, she stood in front of a looped wire fence, like on a baseball diamond, at home plate. She closed her eyes, and could taste baseball on her tongue: the dust, the heat, the sunlight and the motion. She felt her mind drift towards Mulder again, his face and his baseball jerseys, but cut herself off before she finished the thought.
She trailed her fingers down the tangy metal of the fence, drenching their tips in dew. The latch on the gate gave way with a quiet click, and Scully let herself into the pool enclosure, her bare feet trailing on the worn grey tile, the sky reflecting on the unnatural chlorine blue of the water. Rolling up her pant legs, Scully sat down at the edge, dipping her feet in slowly, feeling the grass shavings and leaf debris that clustered on the surface tickle her ankles.
The air kissed her face, the sky soothed her eyes, the water stroked her legs, and for a moment Scully was perfectly happy.
Dan found her by the side of the pool at seven thirty, the sun strong on her face, the unexpected glasses glinting in the yellow light. She started when she saw him, pulling her feet out of the water and letting herself out of the enclosure.
"Agent Morris," she said, pulling down the legs of her jeans, attempting perfect dignity. "I got up early. How are you this morning?"
He smiled. "I'm fine, Dana. How are you? Ready to carry on?"
She nodded stiffly. "Just let me get more appropriately dressed. I'll only be moment." Scully hurried back to the main building, cursing her carelessness. The last thing she needed was for Morris to think that she was frivolous.
Back in the motel room, the magic of the morning had been burned away by the sun, already scorching in it's waxing August power. Millard County was even further south than Salt Lake, and Scully still found the summers there difficult, after years of north-eastern drizzle and damp. In the oppressive heat of the room, the sun slid from cracks in the heavy curtains, and Scully reluctantly pulled on her dark suit and applied her makeup. The temperature made the light concealer a heavy mask on her face, and she sighed.
Furiously fiddling with a contact lens, Scully threw her clothes into her worn leather travelling bag and locked the door behind her, the metal knob practically singeing her fingers as she turned the key. Braving the cement, she strode up the line of painted doors to the registration office, where a tattered air conditioner was already pumping full blast, tiny strings of paper fluttering from the vent.
She placed her key on the faux wood desk, and turned when she heard Dan's voice.
"Okee-dokee, baby, I'll be home just as soon as I can. I love you one million kisses. Oh, all right, two million. Bye, hon. Put momma on. Good girl." His face was lit with a broad smile, and his eyes twinkled in the slatted light. "Hey, Peg. We're just heading out, but Chilton says we should fly home for the weekend tonight. I'll see you at about eight, that okay? Great. I love you. See you." He hung up, but his fingers lingered on the receiver, as if he were trying to reach all the way down the phone line to his family. He turned to Scully, and she smiled.
"How old is your daughter?"
"Janie, the one I was speaking to just then? She's five and a half. My older daughter's nine. Rachel."
"And your wife?"
"She's Peggy. I don't think she'd appreciate me spreading around her age too much."
Scully flushed slightly. "I know, I didn't mean…"
He touched his hand to her shoulder lightly. "Relax, Agent Scully. I was just teasing." He straightened his shoulders, and turned back to the desk, signing the last charge forms. "Ready to go? I thought we'd go back to the hospital today, so you can check Jolene for any trace forensic evidence, and I can try to get a full statement from her and the deputies. Unless you'd rather the other way around…"
"Not at all, Agent Morris. Something tells be that you're better with the Dictaphone than with a laboratory."
He chuckled. "I've got to side with you on that, Dana. Well, lead on. You can drive today."
Suddenly, Mulder's voice echoed in her head.
"Let me drive…"
"I'm driving."
"Scully, it's not what you think…"
"I didn't see anything anyway."
"Will you let me drive?"
"I'm driv… Why do you always have to drive? Because you're the guy? Because you're the big macho-man?"
"No. I was just never sure your little feet could reach the pedals."
Scully snorted with laughter, remembering. Dan looked over at her in bemusement.
"Scully? Did I say something?"
She giggled again "No, no, Agent Morris. It's… uh… just a funny memory from a case I did with the Washington Bureau, almost five years ago. With my former partner, Agent Mulder. The driving offer reminded me."
She laughed under her breath, all the way to the car and out onto the highway.
When they arrived at the County Hospital in Fillmore at nine-thirty, Jolene was already awake, working with a composite artist from the Sheriff's Department. He was outlining the bottom of a chin, realigning it as the woman on the bed directed him. She greeted Scully with a warm smile.
"Hey, Agent Scully. I'm feeling a bit better today, before you ask again and I have to bite your head off for your trouble."
Scully smiled. "I'm very glad to hear it, Jolene. Unfortunately, I'm going to have to do a forensic evaluation today, which means I'm going to have to go over your injuries with a wide array of medical instruments and scientific apparatus. It might not be very comfortable, but…"
"Anything, Agent Scully," she said firmly. "Anything to end this."
The composite artist excused himself, shutting the door behind him with a soft click. Dan shifted uncomfortably.
"As well," he muttered. "I've got to collect your full statement while Scully works."
"Where's this gonna happen, Dana?" Jolene asked.
"Well," Scully began carefully. "It would be the most efficient for me to use the autopsy bay, since all of the equipment is stored there."
"You mean like where they cut up dead people?"
"Yes, I'm afraid so. But if it makes you too uneasy, Jolene, I can easily relocate them to this room."
The pale woman considered, her eyes cloudy. "Of course I'll go," she said finally. "I want this to go as smoothly as it can."
Scully squeezed her hand, and kicked the locks out from the wheels on the bed legs. Dan held open the door.
When they reached the small, metallic room, Scully rolled Jolene over onto the examining table. Dan positioned himself discreetly behind a folding divider as she began to undress. Scully covered her with a sheet, carefully cloaking everything that did not need to be seen right then, and then she rolled over the tool cart. Scully heard Dan click on the tape recorder, and Jolene told her story.
Almost two hours later, all they had was a pale blond hair and a world of nightmares.
- - -
As the sun set against the mountains, the tall woman stood by the side of the road, a dying cigarette trailing from her fingers. Her thumb lolled sideways, vaguely gesturing at the narrow headlights that were approaching slowly down the hot road.
The pavement shimmered with the last remains of the midday heat, and the white pickup truck slid to a halt beside the woman's tall figure. The door sprang open, and the quiet, regular chime of the alert drifted from the cab. The figure inside was cloaked with shadow. The upholstery was red.
"Where can I take you, ma'am?" the shadow asked.
"Anywhere," the woman replied, her mouth twisting into a scowl. "Fucking anywhere but here."
The door slammed shut behind her, and the woman looked around, and then back to the road in front of them. The cab was spacious, although littered slightly, and on the dashboard was a cactus and a figurine of Jesus.
In the backseat was a razorblade and a bottle of iodine.
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
A/N: Hey all! I know that the style's a little different from "Disciple" (using the time/date stamp, etc.), but I hope you'll still like it. The plot will pick up a bit more next chapter, I promise.
Until then,
Ceilidh
