FBI Headquarters

Washington, D.C.

December 14, 2017

7:30 a.m.

Scully stepped off the elevator with a shiver, holding tightly to the coffees in her hands, hoping it would help to warm her up. The basement was always colder than the rest of the building, something for which she was thankful in summer but not so much in the winter.

Shivering once again, she set one of the cups on the shelf behind her. Reaching to open the door to their office, it was pulled open from the inside, causing her to pull her hand back.

"Jesus," Mulder said, his eyes wide as he let out a deep breath.

"Scare you?" she teased and he shook his head and cleared his throat.

"No. No, I don't get scared." He cleared his throat again, adjusting his tie as she nodded with a smirk.

"Mm-hmm," she hummed and he looked down at the coffee in her hand.

"Where's mine?"

"Oh. Did you ask me to get you a coffee?"

"No. But… I would have gotten you one." He pouted and she mirrored his expression, before turning her head and glancing behind her at the green to go coffee cup with white snowflakes.

"Ah, Scully," he said, stepping out of the office and picking it up.

"It's sugar free," she deadpanned and he paused, the cup nearly to his lips.

"Why? Why would you do that?" He sighed and pouted again. She laughed and he exhaled as he shook his head. Tentatively, he took a drink as she raised an eyebrow. "Mm… delicious sugar. You lie."

"Hmm…" She shrugged with a soft smile, stepping into the office and setting her coffee onto the desk. He walked in behind her and shut the door. "One day, I will get you sugar free." She started to unbutton her coat and then thought better of it.

"You may as well throw your money directly into the trash then," he said, taking a drink and she laughed softly, glancing at him as she sat down. "Are you cold?"

"Yeah. It's always cold in here in the morning."

"It shouldn't be today. I fixed the heater."

"You did?" she asked skeptically and he nodded as he sat behind the desk, leaning back as he took another drink.

"I can fix some things." She stared at him, narrowing her eyes, and he rolled his eyes at her. "Fine, I had the heat fixed. Happy now?"

"I find honesty is always best," she said with a shrug, picking up her cup and taking a drink, looking at him over the lid.

"Mm-hmm," he hummed with a smile. "Well, then I guess I should be honest and tell you it won't really matter for long if the room is warm or not because we have a case."

"Do we?"

"Indeed." He stood up and set his coffee down, walking toward the television and then sitting back down after turning it toward them and grabbing the remote.

She sighed as she waited, watching him and wondering what he would do if, instead of some video he was excited to show her, she took the remote from his hand and kissed him. If she kicked off her heels and straddled him in his chair. It would not be the first time, well… for that particular office chair it would be, but not for the thought of it in her head.

What would he do if she did? Rising over him, her hair longer than it had been in years, hanging in her face as she stared at his lips, waiting to kiss them after not doing so in so long. She licked her lips, remembering the taste of them after his morning cup of coffee; his kiss like an oasis in the driest of deserts.

"Uh… Scully? Hello? Did you hear me?"

"What?" she asked, swallowing hard and letting out a breath, her face flushed. Well, she was more than warm enough now. Setting down her coffee, she stood up and unbuttoned her coat, taking it off and laying it on her chair.

"Warm now?" he asked with a smile and she nodded.

You have no idea, she thought, squeezing her thighs together to help ease the ache between her legs.

"As I was saying, we have a case in New Orleans." He looked at her and she nodded again, waiting for him to go on. "There has been… well some unusual activity and we've been asked to help."

"What kind of activity?"

"Unexplained murders," he said, handing her a file. She took it from him and looked through it, breezing over the report and examining the photos.

"I remember hearing about this. The kids, well… not "kids" technically, but college aged, they'd had a party at an abandoned church and…"

"Parties- plural," Mulder interjected and she looked up, her eyebrows raised.

"I only heard about one. It happened on Halloween."

"Right, that's the file you have there. The second one was on Thanksgiving at a plantation style house. Same type of party, same outcome, though not as many affected." She shook her head and looked back down at the file.

"Do you have the information from the second party?"

"No, we'll be briefed once we get down there. But, the sheriff sent me some photos. I've hooked it up so we can look at them on the television." She glanced up at him, giving him an amused look. "Easier to see." He shrugged and she nodded slowly, knowing he had fought with her in the past about needing new glasses. He cleared his throat and pressed a button on the remote.

Closing the file, she folded her hands in her lap and turned to look at the television. The screen was filled with photos of the crime scene: the house, the grounds, and the victims lying facedown on the grass.

Standing to her feet, she put the file on the desk and stepped closer to the television, crossing her arms as she looked at the screen. There was no evidence of blood nor any obvious signs of assault.

"What was the cause of death? I don't see any injuries."

"Because there aren't any, just like the first party," Mulder said, getting up and standing beside her.

"Is it poison of some kind?" She looked at him and he shook his head.

"Toxicology only showed alcohol and marijuana, but that was only for the first party. The results for the second one should be in soon."

"But they must assume the same, judging by the photos of bottles of alcohol."

"Hmm," he hummed and she shook her head.

"So, what was the cause of death?"

"Exposure. For both." She scoffed and looked at him.

"Exposure? In New Orleans? In October?" He nodded and pursed his lips. "But you don't buy that?"

"I looked up the weather for Halloween and Thanksgiving and combined, it never got lower than mid-50's. Which I admit, is a bit chilly, but what do you say, Doctor Scully? Could someone die from exposure in those temperatures?" He tilted his head and she shook hers.

"It's dependent on many variables, but…"

"While I don't know all of the details about the party on Thanksgiving, the one on Halloween started around 8 p.m. and the cops were on scene by 2 a.m." He picked up the file from the desk and showed her the paperwork. Shaking her head again, she sighed.

"Witnesses say that the group of kids attacked were in and out of the church but the DJ said he remembered seeing them inside at midnight and a little after, because everyone was inside dancing to a particular song being played. No one saw them again until they all heard screaming from outside." She turned a few pages and looked at the photos, shaking her head, her brow furrowed.

"If they were outside for less than two hours, even in the lack of clothing some of them wore, it's impossible to have so many of them die of exposure. It just doesn't happen." She closed the file, holding it to her chest as she looked up at him. "I assume you have a theory."

"I always have a theory," he said with a grin and nodded slightly.

"So, what do you think happened then?"

"Funny you should ask," he said, turning toward the television.

"Ohhh, it's never a good sign when you say that," she grumbled, setting the file down and crossing her arms with a sigh. She turned on her heel and faced the television, already dreading what he would consider a logical theory.

A photo flashed onto the screen and she drew in a deep breath.

"Mulder, absolutely not."

"Hear me out first."

"I will not hear you out when you're suggesting something so ludicrous."

"What's ludicrous about it?" She looked at him and scoffed, pointing at the television as she shook her head.

"You suggesting the Weeping Angels from Doctor Who, is ludicrous. That is a television show." She exhaled and he hummed.

"But that you knew it immediately, Scully… that's so hot."

"Of course I knew what it was, how many times did you make me watch that particular episode? And the subsequent ones that followed?"

"Made you…" he scoffed and shook his head. "Like you didn't enjoy watching them."

"I enjoyed watching David Tennant…" she said quietly, looking down and then back up at him.

"I am very aware of that," he sighed and shook his head. Rolling his eyes, he mumbled something that sounded like really great hair, and she smiled.

"You have two minutes to explain your ludicrous theory. And I don't want to hear the name Weeping Angels."

"As that particular name wasn't used, that will be fine." He rubbed his hands together and took a deep breath. She tapped her watch and he gave her a look.

"The only eyewitnesses both stated, separately mind you, that they saw what looked like an angel- ethereal being-" he corrected himself as she raised an eyebrow in warning. "An ethereal being walking in the graveyard."

"This was on Halloween?"

"Yes, and before you think you've figured it all out, no one was dressed as an an…gel that night."

"Nice save," she scoffed and he smiled with a wink. "So… they say they saw an angel, how did they describe it?"

"They said it was…" He picked up the file and turned a couple of pages. "A large statuesque person, long white dress, seeming to glow from the inside and around it." Both of them said nearly the same thing when interviewed separately." He set the file down and crossed his arms as he looked at her.

"That doesn't mean it was a statue of an angel come to life," she said, raising her eyebrows and he shrugged. "Mulder…"

"How many unexplainable things have we seen over the years, Scully? Or have I seen as you seem to nearly always miss it?" He raised his eyebrows back at her and she closed her eyes briefly with a sigh. "There are no other suspects, no evidence to go on- footprints, fingerprints, DNA… nothing."

"Aside from the other people at the party," she said logically.

"Who have all been cleared," he replied pointedly.

"It still doesn't mean it was an… ethereal being, or a statue come to life," she said, gesturing to the television and glancing at the Weeping Angel. "God, but that thing is creepy."

"Imagine seeing it in person," he muttered and she stared at him.

"Stop. That's not what it was."

"That's what we're going to find out," he said as he turned off the television and grinned at her. "Be sure to pack your sparkliest strings of beads, Scully, and lots of 'em, we're headed to New Orleans."

Guesthouse Inn

New Orleans, Louisiana

9 p.m.

Tired and grumpy, Scully opened the door to the motel office and was greeted to an overwhelming scent of pine and cinnamon. A giant Christmas tree, decorated within an inch of its already depleting life, stood in the middle of the room with faux wrapped gifts sitting beneath it. Christmas carols played from a speaker overhead and Scully, who normally loved the holidays, thought if she heard Silent Night one more time she really would take out her gun and start taking hostages.

Their journey to New Orleans had not gone exactly as planned. The flight had been delayed an hour and then two. They'd had to change gates and then hurry back when their original gate had been announced, forcing them to run quickly through the airport.

Once they were on the plane, they had sat at the gate for twenty minutes before departing, Mulder cracking sunflower seeds the entire time, no matter how many looks she had given him, the sound like nails on a chalkboard when she had already been annoyed.

The flight had been terrible, the turbulence causing her to grip her armrest for most of the journey. They had been forced to land in Baton Rouge, nearly an hour and a half from their destination.

Discovering the air conditioner was broken after they had driven away and the rental place had closed, was icing on top of an already shitty cake. Their drive over was loud with the windows rolled down, the car too humid if they left them up. It made it impossible to speak without yelling, so they had eventually given up.

A new rental car would be brought over and exchanged in the morning, but right now all she could think about was taking a shower and sleeping.

"Evening and Happy Holidays!" A dark haired woman said with a smile. "Welcome to the Guesthouse Inn. My name is Moira. Did y'all have a reservation?"

"Yeah," Mulder said, waking in behind Scully. "Two rooms, under the name Mulder."

"Great, let me just check." She typed away on the computer and Scully closed her eyes, already envisioning the warm shower that would wash away the travel day from hell.

"Oh, what's this?" Mulder asked and she opened her eyes. He held a brochure in his hand that advertised a haunted walking tour with the Voodoo Bone Lady.

"Mulder," she said under her breath and he glanced at her. She shook her head slightly as he glanced back at the brochure.

"Excuse me, Moira, could you tell me more about this?" he asked and she smiled, abandoning the keyboard, much to Scully's despair.

"The Voodoo Bone Lady is the best tour in the area. She's a voodoo priestess, who will take you through the St. Louis Cemetery as she tells you about ghosts, voodoo, vampires, and zombies. It's seriously the best. The last one for the night is at ten. I can get you tickets if you'd like?" She smiled and Mulder nodded excitedly as he looked back at Scully. She sighed and shrugged, knowing there was no chance they would not be going on that tour.

An hour and a half later, after a quick shower, she was trying to hold back her yawns. It was not that the tour was boring, on the contrary, she had been creeped out a few times against her better judgment. But, she was also tired and longing to lay down before the case began in earnest.

Falling behind the rest of the small group, she was thankful it was not just them so she could disappear a little. Her attention was waning and so instead she watched Mulder, smiling at his excited questions to the voodoo priestess and his discussions with the others in the group. Shaking her head, she thought of how, even after all this time, he was still the same. Still him, and yet things were different…

He was quieter at times, not rushing headlong into things as he had in the past- a haunted voodoo tour through New Orleans notwithstanding. He was more attentive, picking up her favorite food or a coffee as he had mentioned earlier, or suggesting a movie night as they were spending more time together outside of work.

Things were different, but there was so much that was still the same. Especially the way she felt about him. The way she had always felt about him.

Even from the very beginning, he had a claim on her, as much as she had tried to fight it. He was her polar opposite, how could she not have fallen head over heels?

Looking at him again, something suddenly caught in the corner of her eye, and she turned her head. Down the long rows of vaults and tombs, she thought she saw something moving. Stopping, she watched, knowing there had not been anyone there when they had all passed by it a few minutes ago.

Stepping forward, curious if there was a need to be alarmed, she felt a touch on her shoulder, causing her to jump and gasp.

"Sorry. You okay?" Mulder said, staring into her eyes with an apologetic smile.

"Yeah. Sorry. I thought… it was probably nothing." She gave him a small smile and he nodded, turning back to their tour group. Stepping closer to them, she looked over her shoulder once again, but saw nothing. Trying to shake off the feeling, she stayed close for the rest of the tour.

When they had finished, thanking the priestess for the tour, they drove back to the hotel. Walking through the festively lit courtyard between their rooms, and past the second overly decorated Christmas tree, they said goodnight.

Taking another quick shower, she put on a pair of soft pajama bottoms and one of Mulders old long sleeved shirts and paced the room, suddenly feeling wide awake. She felt off, as though someone was watching her. She pulled the curtain back and looked outside, double checking that there was no one standing out there, her heart racing.

The majority of her vision was obscured by the bright lights and the large tree. But she could also see that the light was on in Mulder's room, and she debated whether or not she should go talk to him, even though she knew he would tease her mercilessly for feeling that way. But before she could convince herself to go over, his light turned off and she sighed, letting the curtain drop.

"You're being ridiculous, Dana," she muttered. Turning off her own light, she walked over to the bed and sat down.

Standing up quickly, she walked to the bathroom and opened the door. Turning on the light, she closed the door halfway, and walked back to the bed. Laying down, she took a deep breath as she stared up at the ceiling.

"Now go to sleep," she said quietly, smoothing down the blankets, shaking her head as she closed her eyes. "Just sleep."

Reciting the bones in the body to help her fall asleep, she began to relax, finding comfort in things she could control and count on.

As she turned over with a deep sigh, the long day finally taking its toll, she did not notice the shadow that passed by just outside her window.