AUTHOR: Ary adventure with an erotica twist and plenty of angst
SPOILERS: Up to Season 5, but definitively before 'The End'
KEYWORDS:MSR
SUMMARY: A redhead killer on the loose and Scully working undercover
DISCLAIMERS: We all know they're not mine.
I'd be willing to lend Stan Carlbadier, though
WARNING:Sex references and adult content follow.
You've been warned. Read at your own risk.
FOX MULDER'S APARTMENT AUGUST 10 6:34 A.M.
I used to have a teacher back at Oxford who said that a psychologist's worst curse and best asset was his capacity for empathy. Your insight on the patient will always be accurate, but you'll walk through hell and back with him on the way to recovery. He also said that I've better consider a career change if I didn't want to end in therapy myself.
I began my profiler career like most other FBI hopefuls: back in Quantico during the basic training. Although a remedial course for some, Profiling Techniques and Behavioral Science is mandatory for everyone who has a psychology or psychiatry background. Needless to say, profiling is such a tough and delicate art they watch us like hawks, trying to find that diamond in the rough that will become the next 'golden boy' of the violent crime unit.
The guys who trained me thought I was that rough diamond. My former teacher asked if I had a death wish when I wrote to tell him I was going into the FBI as a profiler. My younger peers were awed by my skill, and my senior agents were spooked by it.
But I was young and naive then. And I thought I knew better than an old professor living in England. Nowadays I do know better: he was right and the rest of the world was not. I still keep his letter, the only one I ever got from him, and today I decided to look for it.
Not that I need a reminder of its content. I know that by heart. I think I was looking for some sort of affirmation, some mystic, inexplicable connection that would tell me I did the right thing. It strikes me as funny how a letter dated 10 years ago can seem to have been written for my present state of mind.
Professor McAddy had a definitive opinion on my choices in life after graduating for Oxford. He said that as sure as night I'd be in danger of loosing my sanity, even my soul, if I pursued the profiler path I seemed so intent on following. That I'd find it too easy to turn into the killer to catch a killer, to become a monster in order to understand a monster. And that his deepest fear was that one day I wouldn't be able to come back from those dark places I would roam while trying to figure out what made a man turn into a hideous cartoon of humanity.
Today I'm sure that if hadn't left BSU when I did, if I hadn't started obsessing about the X-Files, I would have definitively turned into some kind of sociopath misfit. And I'm not even sure I left quickly enough as to keep my sanity intact. But my soul was just mildly scarred when I met Scully.
Scully. I'm not sure Professor McAddy had a red-headed dynamo in
mind when he strongly advised me to keep away from working with
female partners. His reasoning makes as much sense today as it did
so many years ago. I'm doomed to repeat the loss pattern I
experienced when Sam was abducted. Doomed to be overly protective,
unwilling to give them credit as capable individuals, unable to
develop any kind of feeling towards them out of fear of lost.
Amazing how the old man could be so damnably right about me. He mapped my emotional sites with such ease it still scares me to think I could be so predictable.
But even a legendary eminence such as the Professor can be wrong.
Not totally wrong, but wrong, nonetheless. For I have developed
feelings towards Scully that shouldn't be there. Must not be there.
But the feelings are there. Stronger than any other emotion, deeper
than any of my obsessions. And fear had nothing to do with them.
Wrong.
Fear has everything to do with it. It's always been around, like a cloak, like a shroud. Fear of rejection, fear of love itself. But, above all this, fear of loss.
For loosing her is the only thing I could never bear. Not without loosing myself with her.
So I'm willing to make a sacrifice. I'll become the monster one more time, perhaps one last time, in order to save her. It seems like a fair trade: my sanity for my soul. My life for hers.
At the end, that old man from Oxford was right. My emotions override rational thought. My greatest nemesis would be no other one but myself. And time has come for me to face those facts.
So I begin the slow painful journey into the nightmarish hell that I've come to know so well. Slowly, but steadily, I become the killer, feeling his need to stalk and kill. A need for vengeance.
I can only hope that it is love that sees me through this.
SOMEWHERE IN WASHINGTON DC AROUND NOON
I saw Sarah last night. She was coming out of one of those sinful
dance places. But she got away before I had a chance to talk to her.
She was hanging around with a blond slut. I don't think I've ever
seen that broad before. But I'm sure she must be the one that's
been whispering naughty words into Sarah's ear.
I'm pretty sure of it. Sarah would never dream of going to a place like that. She would have never taken her clothes off in front of a group of strangers. Never. So the blond bitch must have talked her into it. I find no other explanation.
Sarah would never do something like that. Other gals would certainly do, but not my Sarah. I know her well, and I know she wouldn't.
But I noticed something different about her last night. The way she was dressed was different. Sarah's a simple gal, but her clothes were fancy, ritzy. Like she was rich or something.
I also noticed she was driving a car. Not the second-hand wreck she could have afforded, but a brand new one. The kind that looks expensive and probably is.
And I wonder where she got the money. Her good-for-nothing brother
couldn't have given it to her. She don't buy lotto tickets. So she
must have earned it. Or someone gave it to her. And I'm not stupid.
No one gives out fancy cars and elegant clothes for free or out of
the goodness of their hearts.
I feel disappointed. Sarah promised she was going to be a good wife.
She promised she wouldn't go back to her old tricks. She promised.
And I believed her. Seems I was a fool to do so.
It also seems like I would have to teach her a lesson. I'll have to teach her once and for all how to keep her promises. By the time I'm through with her she'll be begging my forgiveness and will think twice before even considering to break her promise.
Yes. Sarah and I will have ourselves a little chat.
Tonight.
FOX MULDER'S APARTMENT AUGUST 10 2:52 P.M.
I need a cold shower. And I need it real bad. I don't think I've ever needed one as badly as I need it now.
But today... when I saw Scully back at the Stardust Club today.
and to think what will happen tonight... oh, God... I don't think
I'm going to be able to behave in an appropriate fashion.
Just to imagine her wearing those clothes... Christ, I need to take a plunge in the Arctic Ocean. And I'm still not sure that will work, either. Not the way my imagination is running right now.
I don't know how I'm going to be able to look at Scully again without
getting a hard-on. I mean, there have been times before when my
baser instincts were a little bit stronger than my will power. But,
after what I saw today... I don't think I'd even be able to see
her straight in the eyes.
Damn VCS and my profiling expertise. Damn Stan Carlbadier for dragging Scully into this undercover assignment. Damn her, too, for willingly taking the job.
Damn the psycho with a thing for redheads. The redhead psycho who kept exacting his private vendetta on every redhead woman working the streets... or dancing her clothes off, for that matter.
And damn Victoria's Secret, and every other store that catered to women's fancies and tempted male libidos. Places like that reminded me of a giant spider web, where a guy could get tangled and choke to death on silk and lace, and still die a happy fellow.
How am I supposed to concentrate on the case if all I can think of is her? How can I protect her if the killer feels the need to attack tonight at the club? How, indeed?
Dear God... what have I done?
EARLIER THAT DAY
It was barely a few minutes past eight when I parked my car one block away from Scully's apartment. Walked over to see if her car was still there, knowing I had arrived with plenty of time to spare, but checking to make sure all the same.
Having convinced myself that she was at home, I went back to my car and opened the bag that contained the coffee and bagel I had bought on my way here. I've always thought that stakeouts are always done better on a full stomach.
Stakeout. Something I get to do quite often in my line of work. I should be used to it by now, but I'm nervous all the same. I don't think I ever thought I'd be staking out Scully, but that's exactly what I'm doing.
I looked at my cell phone, debating whether or not to give her a
call. Last night she was pretty angry and I did not dare to risk
upsetting her again, so I decided I'd better not call her. At least,
not yet. So I sipped my cup of coffee and settled down to wait.
Half and hour later I saw Scully leave her building and get in her car. I gave her a couple of minutes of advantage and then I started mine. I followed her, being specially careful not to be seen. She picked up Candy in front of the club and headed for a shopping mall. I had never been in that particular mall before, so I didn't know what to expect.
Scully dropped the blond stripper at the front doors, and went looking for a parking place. I waited until I saw her go inside the mall to park my car and followed her inside.
Candy was waiting for Scully in front of a beauty parlor. I've always hated those places. I remember the last time my mother dragged me inside one. I must have been 10 years old ... the smell of spray and God-knows-what-else was so strong I still get nauseous just thinking about it.
I waited outside for more than 45 minutes. What the hell were those two doing inside? Nothing could take that long, could it? I've never been very fond of all that female war fare. I'm a sucker for the results, mind you, but I'd rather not know how women achieve it.
As casually as possible I strolled outside the door, straining my ears to see if I could hear something that could give me a clue. Luck proved to be on my side, and I got to hear Scully's voice.
She was complaining. "Candy ... is this really necessary? I mean, can't I just do it myself?"
Candy just laughed. "Ruby, dear, Ruby? Was that Scully's undercover name? Ruby? How original can they get? I've been in the business for more than 6 years now, and believe me, darling, I still can't get the waxing right... "
Waxing? What waxing? What is this Candy talking about?
"But... but... "
Scully sputtering? What the hell was going on inside that place?
I've never heard the kind of panic in her voice... not even when
facing the mutants we've came across one too many times in the past.
So what could she be facing now?
"Look girlfriend, let's get over with this. Let André do his job. You won't regret it. After all, you want to look nice in your g-string, don't you?"
Oh. Realisation downed on me. That kind of waxing. No wonder why Scully was trying to talk her way out of it... I tried to picture her getting waxed... and I found the thought of it too arousing.
I told myself I'd better not let my imagination go there, as fun and tempting as it looked. I had to remind myself that Scully was my partner, and that I should try to keep things professional, but my libido seemed to have other ideas of its own. My heart seemed to be walking down the same path, which left only my conscience and my intellect to deal with matters in what was considered an appropriate way.
Another 45 minutes went by. I was beginning to get restless. Finally, I saw Candy and Scully leaving the beauty parlor. Scully didn't look very happy. Can't say I blamed her. I had the distinct feeling that Scully was hating every minute of this assignment, and was truly regretting not having refused to do it.
I followed them, expecting to see them go in and out of different stores. To my surprise, they headed straight into a Victoria's Secrets boutique. My libido was somersaulting. That place reminds me of a candy store full of goodies, specifically designed to lure unsuspecting males into the realms of erotic fantasies...
There was no way I could get into the boutique without being noticed, so I waited outside. I tried to think about other things, like how I could protect Scully if the psycho decided to prey on her, but my mind kept wondering back to what kind of ensemble Scully would choose to perform in... I pictured her in something delicate and flowery...
It took almost a minute before I realised what I was doing. I was thinking of Scully not as my partner, but as a woman. And it definitively was a dangerous road to travel. Still, I couldn't help to think how she'd look in a leopard print, or black lace... or soft green silk.
I shook my head trying to clear my thoughts. This was Scully, my partner. My friend. The rational side of our mismatched duo. I could not regard her as a woman. I shouldn't. Too many things were at stake and I could loose everything we had if I let my feeling for her interfere.
And yet still... no one in his right mind would be able to deny that Dana Scully was one hot number.
Scully and Candy were leaving the store with a couple of bags. I hid as quickly as possible, certain that Scully had seen me and was headed my way to demand an explanation.
But she kept on walking next to Candy. She looked... radiant. She was blushing, but in a different way. I'd never seen her like that. I felt a warm tug at my heart and something, definitively warmer, in my groin. Warning signals were flashing in my head, but I chose to ignore them.
You see, I had to find out what Scully had bought. My mental health depended on it. Not that it was too stable to begin with... the porn videothon that lasted well into the early hours of the morning had left my defences weak and my senses... well , heightened.
An heated battle was taking place inside my head. My intellect ordered me to follow them, that I was keeping watch over Scully and would never forgive myself if something happened to her while I was playing hooky.
The rest of me, however, had a different idea. Thorn between duty and desire, I allowed my heart to make the decision. And so I turned around and went into the boutique.
"May I help you?"
I looked at the sales girl and flashed her my most charming smile. She smiled back. It was good knowing that I haven't forgotten how to do it. Scully always seemed immune to my disarming smile and seductive personality... though, if I had to be perfectly honest, her lack of acknowledgement had made our innuendo's game even more thrilling. Not knowing how she'll react made it all more fun, more addictive, more... dangerous.
"You see. I'm... aah... looking for a present for my fiancé. Now, why did I said that? She's a redhead and I'm not really sure what would suit her... I saw a redhead just like her coming out of the store a minute ago and I thought that, maybe, if you showed me what this girl had bought... "
I gave the girl my most innocent and adorable look. And it worked. She must have thought I was the most considerate fiancé a girl could ask for. As if.
"Why, certainly, sir. I helped the lady put together the ensemble she bought. Come this way, please."
I followed the girl around, trying to keep a straight face while surrounded by lace and satin and all kinds of lingerie. Not an easy task, if you should know. I had to remember the flukeman to remain calm. I almost achieved it.
Almost.
The salesgirl came back with the clothes, what little was of them, anyway. I watched them, in shock. Not because I'd never seen anything like it before, mind you, but because I was picturing Scully wearing them.
Push-up satin bra. Lace g-string and matching garter belt. Stockings. And a silk, kimono-like robe.
I held the soft cloth in my trembling fingers, hoping the girl wouldn't notice how badly they were shaking. My senses were going into a lust-like frenzy . I could barely pay attention to what the girl was telling me. The mental images were that overwhelming.
"I'm sorry, sir. But we're out of the robe in red. Would you like to see it in another colour?"
"Excuse me?"
"Red. The lady you saw chose the robe in red. I'm sure you'd like to buy the same colour that she... "
"No, never mind. I'll just bring her and have her choose whatever she likes, ok?"
I gave her a slight smile and almost ran out of the place. My hands were trembling so badly that it took me three tries to open the car's door. Once inside I couldn't stop shaking.
My imagination was on overload, and my forehead was hot. To be perfectly honest, it wasn't the only part of my body that felt hot, but I couldn't allow myself to give into the feeling. I just couldn't allow myself to delve too deeply into the sensations. Knowing I was attracted to Scully was one thing. Knowing she could arouse me like this was something completely different.
"Breathe, breathe... common, damnit, focus. Mulder, you need to focus NOW."
Slowly, very slowly, I recovered my self-control. And I knew I was in for trouble. Big time. If I couldn't control my reactions looking at the clothes, how was I going to control myself when I saw Scully actually wearing them?
What was I going to do when she began stripping?
How was I going to be able to protect her from a hormonal ape, let alone a maniac, if all my attention was focused on just a tiny (well, not really) part of my body? I had to get a grip on myself and start thinking with my upper head, and forget the lower one for the time being...
I let my head come in contact with the steering wheel. Hard. The pain seemedto clear my thoughts. A little anyway. Enough to bring them back to the case. Scully was going to be in danger, a sitting duck target for an extremely vicious killer.
Therefore, I couldn't afford to just sit down and enjoy the view. I've never trusted the VCU protection of undercover agents, and I have a dislocated shoulder to vouch for their neglect. And that time it had been white collar criminals, not a cold-blooded murderer.
So I felt it was up to me to make sure Scully was okay. Irrational?
Yes. A total lunacy? Maybe. But I wouldn't be able to stop feeling
restless until this case was over and I knew for sure that Scully was
out of danger.
What I had to do now was find Scully and keep and eye on her. I also had to find a way to persuade Stan Carlbadier to let me take part of the stakeout team. And I knew that Agent Carlbadier was a though cookie to bite on. I was going to need an extremely good persuasion technique if I wanted to be on the case.
I checked my watch and noticed it was quarter to twelve. I wouldn't be able to make it to the office in time for the meeting, not with the lunch hour rush a few minutes away. A phone call would have to do.
Problem is... I'm not that good persuading people on the phone. Then again, you can always blame misunderstandings on bad connections and bouts of static...
I dialled Carlbadier's office. Just my luck that he had already left for a meeting. But he had left a message for me. I had earned a couple of days off and should only come to the office if I came up with any other ideas about the killer. Other than that, I was out of the case.
I thanked the secretary and hung up. I was on my own on this one,
which could be a far better fare than if I had to work under the
orders of Stan Carlbadier. I could do as I pleased and wouldn't have
to account for my actions to anyone.
And considering the way I felt about the whole thing, not being allowed to work due to my "emotional attachment" to the case might just be the best thing that could have happened. I started the car and headed for the club. To be able to keep an eye on Scully, I had to find her first, and I thought this was the most obvious place to start looking for her. My gut was betting 10 to nothing that I would find her there.
Damn my gut, my instincts and my insane need to protect her.
And damn my jeans. I should have brought my sweatpants. Who am I kidding? A circus tent would have proven to be too restricting the way things were going just then. God, talk about tents. No, Mulder - do yourself a favour - don't look down and think about any kind of tent. Oh shit. You see, I did find Scully at the club. And when I found her, I thought that I had died and gone to Heaven. It was only later that I realised that the truth was that I was slowly burning in Hell.
She was rehearsing. Candy was guiding her in a routine guaranteed to blow a few minds away. At least, it was blowing mine quite nicely.
So this is why I was standing in the shadows of the second floor, watching a petite redhead sway her hips in time with some erotic love song, shaking her head, eyes closed in concentration. If you watched real closely you could be able to see her tongue darting over her lips, as her hands slowly and sensuously caressed her thighs...
She was completely dressed. But her dancing was the most erotic thing I'd ever seen. Besides, she's the woman my heart had been aching for, the woman who could question my mind endlessly, the woman my body has lusted after for 5 years.
Maybe that's the reason why I was unwillingly but slowly rubbing myself, trying to relieve some of the pressure building inside my jeans. I was biting my lower lip to stifle my moans. I was fighting really hard to keep my self control.
But then her hands moved to her shirt and she started undoing the buttons. Unknowingly to her, she was also starting to undo my resistance.
I couldn't control my reactions anymore. I reached forward and gripped
the railing hard. I opened my jeans and began stroking myself keeping
rhythm with the music. Oh man, it felt good too. My breathing was
picking up a little more. I was starting to pant, my mouth open.
The shirt came off and underneath I saw the white cotton of a sports
bra.
I let out a huffing sigh of relief. I wasn't sure I could handle any other kind of lingerie at the moment. I thought I was safe.
I thought I could get things back under control.
Until she began caressing her breasts.
Jesus...I...I really started to crank myself hard then. Couldn't
help it. She has...her nipples were hard little...nubs...and she.
was t-touch...all over...Oh FUCK!
When my mind returned from the O-zone, I still had the railing in a death grip. I'd sunk to my knees, weak as a kitten. Christ, I came hard. I closed my eyes tightly. I didn't dare glance over or down through the railing to see what Scully was doing. It might have killed me.
I needed to get out of there. Fast. Before I made a bigger fool out of myself. Before I decided to throw caution to the wind and confess my feelings for her, before taking her home with me. I fled when I felt desire stepping in again.
Believe me, I fled.
OUTSIDE THE STARDUST NIGHTCLUB AUGUST 10 2:00 P.M.
I know Sarah is inside that place, that house of harlots, tower of sin. My heart bleeds just thinking about it. Her mother would die of shame if she knew, but, God merciful, she's already dead.
A tall guy left in a hurry a while ago. He seems somewhat familiar.
Perhaps he was here last night, I don't know. I can't be sure.
But what I'm sure of is that he was hiding something. He was trying
to hide his shameful behaviour. But the Lord sees it as well as I
did. He had his sin written all over him. And if it wasn't enough,
the bulge and wet spot in his crotch gave him away.
I know. I'm a God fearing man, but a man after all. And I know lust when I see it. Oh yes, I do. The bastard was inside letting the beast in him roam loose.
And something inside me tells me he was lusting after my Sarah. Using her as an object for his lowly passions. Perhaps he is the one who's been giving her all those fancy gifts.
Heaven help them if I catch them together. I swear to God I'll kill them both if I do. That's a promise.
And I never break my promises.
FOX MULDER'S APARTMENT AUGUST 10 4:54 P.M.
I sat rigidly on my couch, thinking. I got home 2 hours ago and spent almost one under the cold shower I so badly needed. I stayed under the water until I felt I had come to my senses again.
And now I was sitting here. And I was scared shitless. I felt like I'd made the biggest mistake of my life. Like I fucked-up big time. And the scariest part is that I'm such a coward, such a fucking coward, that I can't bring myself to admit why I was feeling like this.
Deep down I know why. Deep down I knew I had just blown my working, no, make that overall, relationship with Dana Scully. I know I'd never be able to look at her again, to talk to her again, without sex raising its ugly head over us. Thinking of her will get me carried away... touching her will, undoubtedly, be a sure-fire way to get an erection.
And I didn't think I was going to be able to live in perpetual arousal without loosing my mind. I'm so in love with her that it is getting to be physically painful. I might go crazy with wanton and lust and unrequited love...
But I'd never be able to tell her.
I'd turn my heart into stone, I'd bury my feelings deep within myself until I was sure they'd be lost forever. I was even willing to loose my soul, what little there was of it, and become a ghost of the human being I once was.
But I'd never tell her.
I couldn't.
Because telling her would open the doors of myself. And once I open those doors I wouldn't be able to close them again. Because once I bare my soul and heart to Scully, I wouldn't be able to have them back. I couldn't have them back.
They'd belong to her. And I love her too much to burden her with them. I didn't want Scully to suffer because of me. I didn't want Scully to accept them out of pity or guilt. And I couldn't bear to hear her say she didn't want them.
I'd rather kill myself first than die at her feet from a broken heart. I still got some pride stored somewhere inside. I was going to have to rely on pride to continue living next to her.
I won't make a fool of myself showing Scully the depths of my desire for her. I won't embarrass her telling her about the ever-consuming force of my love for her. I won't let her pick around my brain. I won't allow her to gaze into my soul. I still got my pride.
And pride could be a very motivating force.
Very motivating, indeed.
I sighed and looked at my watch. It was almost six o'clock. In less than 3 hours Scully was going to start stripping in front of a room full of strangers, each of them a possible stalker, murderer or rapist. In less than 3 hours Scully could be in grave danger.
But she didn't need my protection. She's a trained FBI agent, capable of taking care of herself, capable of kicking butt. The night club will be swarming with undercover FBI agents from VCS ready to kill the first guy who tries to put a hand on her.
No, she didn't need my protection. She didn't need my disabled male ego trying to prove I could protect her. And she definitively didn't need my teenaged, hormonal libido hanging from her garter belt.
What she needed is her peace of mind to concentrate on the task at hand. She needed to know she's doing her job well. She needed to feel she's proving her worth as an agent. She needed someone to tell her she's doing okay.
And while she didn't need a partner looking after her, and while she didn't need a lover making her anxious, she might as well need a friend to help her to her feet should she fall down and to pat her back when she succeeded.
I respect and I trust her unconditionally, the way I'd never will
trust a partner again. I lust after her, like the lover I would
never become but will always dream to be.
But I love her. Not as a man is capable of loving a woman. My love
goes beyond that. I love the woman and I love the partner, but, if I
had to choose, I'd rather love the friend.
And I had the feeling that she might need a friend tonight. And because I love Dana Scully, the friend, I was going back to that club. Even if it meant destroying my own heart in the process.
May God have mercy of my soul.
END RUBY 2/8