Chapter Four
Mulder/Scully Apartment, New York City, New York
April 7th, 2000, 4:06 p.m.
"Well, this is it," Mulder beamed as he unlocked the door and opened it. Scully just about ran into his outstretched arm as he lowered it on the door's frame down to her neck's level.
"What the-"
"We didn't get to do this the last time. And it's gonna happen." She stepped away from his arm and barely had enough time to object as he reached behind her to pick her up off of her feet.
"We're not married, Mulder. We're not even pretending this time. What on earth gave you the..." He stopped dead in his tracks once a few feet inside and took his first real look at the living room.
"It's gorgeous," he murmured and continued to gawk at the cathedral ceiling.
"I think you can put me down now," Scully's voice brought him back to reality. He set her down gently on her feet and rushed outside to pull the suitcases inside. "I'll take it from here, Mulder," she chided him and took her own into a bedroom. Once inside of it, she knew that Skinner was probably going to carve his initials into their asses with an electric razor. The room was breathtaking.
An emperor sized bed with emerald Egyptian cotton sheets and 2 comforters encompassed most of it. She lifted her valise onto the bed--even though it was full sized, the case did not take up even a fourth of the bed. There also was a chest of drawers and a wardrobe that boasted the height of seven feet. Scully ran her fingers over the freshly varnished cherry edges and imagined the piece to be made of teak. Out of curiosity, she opened the doors and very nearly got smacked in the head by the ironing board.
There were two night stands of equal stature on either side of the gargantuan bed. They matched the chest's color, and the thing that really struck her into awe was the reading lamp suspended over a nearby emerald green armchair. This has to have been made by Tiffany, or is a pretty damn good replica!
The combination of burgundy, cobalt blue, and aqua blue crystal decorated most of the shade. A gaudy chain weighted by a diamond-shaped crystal of some sorts lay perfectly still--she could already imagine watching it swing back and forth glistening through the light like a prism. The chair itself was nearly wide enough for two, and a hassock as large as her suitcase sat right in front of it. Enough was enough. She wasn't going to torture herself by walking into the bathroom yet. Instead, she calmly strolled back through the flat to Mulder's room.
He was already unloading his luggage into an equally opulent wardrobe. Once he saw her walk inside and mouth hang open to take in his room, he smiled. "Nice place, huh?" he asked casually.
"Mulder, one month of rent for this suite is probably worth my two year lease contract! And that's not to mention the cost of the furniture!"
"We're probably not going to be here that long. More like a week, tops."
"Please tell me this apartment belongs to a friend that's on vacation or business, and we're housesitting."
"Nope. I actually don't know anyone from New York, aside from your friend Special Agent Peyton Ritter." Mulder retrieved his leather toiletries bag and disappeared into his own bathroom. Once he saw the terror on her face, he shook his head bemusedly. "Come on, Scully, you've always persecuted me about the normal spots where we stay. Now that I find somewhere decent, you want to go back to the old flamingo motel off of the interstate with free HBO and A/C."
"No, I don't. It's just that it'd be nice if you could find a medium in between extremely tacky and extremely unaffordable...and it's not for my sake that I'm concerned, by the way."
"Am I ever going to be able to do anything right for you, Scully? Honestly, you've been biting at my heels like some snippy little bitch for the last month. I think I've handled it pretty nicely--considering how shitty you've been making me feel. I don't mind the constructive criticism when it comes to your much needed 'sufficient evidence', but you've been chastising me past that point for way too long."
"What exactly have I said?" Scully was incredulous to this news; through her eyes, this month, she had kept her mouth shut about a lot of unorthodox concatenations. She'd been trying to cut down her verbal reprimands ever since New Years, especially since what happened between the two of them was still fresh in her mind.
"If you want to take the car, I'll meet you down in the office later. I'll take the subway." Mulder fished out the keys from his pocket and tossed them across the bed.
Scully opened her mouth for a rebuttal but was so stunned by his invective that she honestly could not think of one. She collected the keys silently and left the room.
FBI Regional Office, New York, New York
April 7th, 2000, 4:56 p.m.
"Agent Mulder, Agent Scully. It's good to be working with you again," Agent John Ritter greeted them warmly and clasped their hands firmly as he shook them. "When my SAC called and told me that you were coming back, I just had to come out and see you for myself. You look great, Dana."
Despite being shot by you, I'd say so, yeah, Mulder thought.
The smile running across his face was making Mulder sick, and if he could read Scully like he thought he could, she was having the same internal reaction.
"I'd appreciate it if we kept the protocol to last names, Agent Ritter--please. This isn't a social occasion," Scully politely rebuked him and surprised the kibbutz out of Mulder by reaching for his hand. He did not quite know what to make of this significant motion but decided that it was in his best interest to play along. He intertwined their fingers and felt a slight tingle when she closed up their diminutive embrace.
"Of course. Ah, my SAC didn't say much about your case, except for the fact that he had some bodies tagged in the coroner's morgue to be set aside for further study. And I suppose that'd be under your field of expertise, D--Agent Scully. Would you care to see them? I can take you there now." Ritter stepped toward a door and opened it for her.
"Thank you, Agent Ritter, I would. That would be very considerate of you."
"And on the way, if you wouldn't mind briefing me about your case, I'm sure I can offer you as much assistance as needed. The both of you, that is." Mulder let go of her hand and reached into his pocket for a notebook. When she felt him depart from their touch, she turned and gave him an awkward stare.
"Mulder, aren't you coming?" she asked.
"I...I think I'm going to pay a visit to a coffee shop as to warm up the old soup bone here," he made a motion that looked like he was about to pitch a baseball as she continued to gawk.
"You're going undercover as a baseball player?" Ritter was confused.
"I wish. That's something he knows a helluva lot more about than where to get a decent meal..." Scully grumbled crankily as she walked out the door. "Come on, I'll tell you on the way, Ritter."
FBI Regional Office, New York, New York
April 7th, 2000, 5:18 p.m.
"You need somethin', lady?" a white haired man with a Brooklyn accent asked. His reading glasses drooped far from the bridge of his nose as he scooped up a stack of papers and threw them into the wastebasket beside his desk.
"I'm Special Agent Dana Scully, of the Washington Bureau. I'm supposed to be meeting Special Agent John Ritter, uh, does he have an office?"
"Nope. His desk's right over there," the man motioned her attention five feet away. "I think he might be in with our SAC at the moment."
"Who is he, by the way?"
"Carter Boucheaux. He, by the way, does have his own office. You'll find it on the right down the hall just past the coffee machine. This is Agent John Whittaker," Whittaker answered his chirping phone and signaled Scully to come through the gate.
She waited patiently until she heard a period of silence outside Boucheaux's door and then knocked twice. "Come in," Boucheaux's rich tenor voice welcomed her.
"Oh, Dana, how ya doin'?" Ritter turned around and shoved his hand into hers for a very presumptuous shake. She accepted his hand graciously but withdrew it as hastily possible. "Sorry, sir, uh, this is Agent Dana Scully, from Headquarters. Dana, this is SAC Carter Boucheaux."
Boucheaux's finely trimmed blonde hair and seoul-patch accentuated his sapphire eyes. He was, by any woman's eyes, a perfect example of the ultimate feminine dream. He wore a well tailored black suit with a chartreuse colored shirt, and the tie was the exact same shade of his eyes. She found herself staring at him a bit too long as he arose and extended his hand to her. The smile he was giving her was very much like the one she had received two years ago from a certain sheriff in Texas. She had not felt that kind of sudden warmth reach down to her toes in weeks.
"Pleasure's all mine, Agent Scully." Scully was immediately appreciative of the fact that Boucheaux saw the need for proper professional etiquette, even though Ritter had used her first name. That meant that she did not have to prove her equality to him like so many other boys in the club. "I understand you're here to prove the New York City coroner wrong. You are a pathologist, right? I was reading your file just now..."
Scully had begun to frown after his first sentence after his greeting, but then her mood lightened. He was reading her file? Why not Mulder's? Technically, he was the senior agent and head of the X-Files division. Maybe he had already skimmed over Mulder's and decided to read hers instead. Dana, pull yourself together. Stop thinking about those intoxicating blue eyes and behave.
"Yes, that's true. But we're not here to prove anybody wrong, we just think that there's something that might have been overlooked in this case," she replied diplomatically. "And, perhaps, there might be a chance of the paranormal nature's existence in these deaths."
"We? Who's we?" Boucheaux inquired. "Agent Ritter only mentioned you, Agent Scully."
To that news, she blushed inwardly and pushed a stray strand of auburn hair aside. Just before she could say another word, Mulder strolled inside the office and closed the door behind himself. "Special Agent Fox Mulder. Scully's my partner. That's who we are."
"All right, then. Interesting," Boucheaux commented and gave Ritter a brief but silent rebuke with his eyes.
"I'm sorry, sir, I didn't know that Dana was working with anyone. The last time I partnered with her, she was alone," Ritter remarked.
"From now on, Ritter, please refer to her as Agent Scully, under the FBI's protocol," Boucheaux ordered his underling. "Agent Mulder, was it? That wouldn't be the 'Spooky Mulder' I've heard of, would it?"
Mulder's eyes began to roll, and Scully mouthed his name gently. He then sighed and nodded.
"Well, that puts things into a very different light, now that I know whom I'll be working with. Whatever you need, I'll be happy to supply if I can. I've heard about your reputation, Agent Mulder..."
Scully held her breath and waited for the explosion of laughter.
"You were a legend back at the Academy. And you still are, in my book. So what if you work with the weird stuff? It takes a special kind of person to have the balls to do that. Excuse me, the courage," he flashed another brilliant smile at Scully. "Now, I've lined up DiCostanzo and D'Angelo's bodies into the coroner's cold storage unit for you to examine at your leisure, Agent Scully. Ritter, I'll leave you to the task of escorting them downtown, please."
"Yes, sir," Ritter submissively agreed, and the trio left the office.
"So you didn't remember meeting me?" Mulder immediately got defensive as they passed through the field office's myriad of bureaus. "I'm glad that Scully made enough of an impression on you. Enough of one for you to shoot her," he spat.
"Mulder..." Scully verbalized his name this time.
"I didn't do it on purpose, Mulder. It was an accident. Besides, I did get put on probation for three months," Ritter thundered back.
"Not long enough for your little trigger happy finger."
"Let's not make a scene, Mulder," Scully mumbled and grasped his hand. Maybe the physical contact will cool him down.
"You're right. But this time, as I'm leaving her in your care, Ritter, don't...screw...things...up." He gave Ritter a frosty glare, and the younger agent understood his responsibility.
Scully ignored the fact that Mulder was again being overly possessive and squeezed his hand. "Where are you going?"
"I'm going to warm up the old soup bone, here," he made a motion as if he were pitching a baseball and released her. "Don't worry. I'll take the subway back home, and if you finish before me, let me know. I'll bring you back a treat."
"You're going undercover as a baseball player?" Ritter wondered.
"Not this time. See you later, Mulder Mantel," Scully mused and took off with him in an opposite direction.