IV
Downstairs, Mulder and Doc were gone from the living room and the smell of cooking meat permeated the house. "Oh yeah baby!" Lauren called, leading me through the doorway at the back of the room that Doc had gone through earlier. As we went, I noted that almost every available wall surface above waist height was covered with more dog pictures. "My man knows how to take care of me!"
I barely glanced around the large, airy kitchen, seeing Mulder sitting at a small dinette table near a bank of windows, before my attention was drawn to Lauren all but leaping at Doc, who caught her and, as expected, kissed her thoroughly. "Pound of bacon, two porterhouses, three butterflied pork chops, and a big ol' chicken breast," he told her when they came up for air and released each other. "Think that's enough? I've got some hamburger patties thawed, too, if you think you'll need them."
"I'd get 'em out. I did three, four changes in five minutes," Lauren said, lifting the large, steaming, meat-filled platter that sat on the counter and carrying it over to the table where Mulder sat. I saw her arms bulging beneath the shirt sleeves, and with the muscle I knew was there wasn't surprised that she could lift it so easily. He started to get up but she waved him back, saying, "Don't bother getting up, unless the sight of a woman devouring this much meat bothers you."
I almost laughed out loud at the look on Mulder's face; he'd certainly caught her double entendre and was taken aback enough that he apparently didn't know what to say. Doc, standing at the stove and putting four thick hamburger patties in the large cast-iron frying pan on the burner, guffawed with no such restraint.
"Lauren, honey, be nice to the FBI agents," he said, wiping at his eyes as the burgers began to sizzle. "I think they've got enough to deal with right now without your teasing them."
Mulder looked nonplussed, but didn't say anything as Lauren seated herself across from him and dug in. To my relief she was using a fork and knife, although taking rather large bites and not fully chewing before she swallowed. I walked over and sat at her right, wanting to be nearby in case she should need CPR. It was then that I saw that the steaks were very rare, just barely seared on the outside, the pork chops still pink in the middle as well. The bacon and chicken seemed to be well-done, although she wolfed down everything so fast it was hard to tell. She ate with single-minded intensity, cutting, forking, and shoving the meat in her mouth without looking at anything but her plate. Er, platter.
"So, are you guys hungry?" Doc asked from the stove. "I usually have something while Lauren's eating, and I can make enough for all three of us. It is after lunchtime."
"I could eat," Mulder said slowly, and I nodded.
"Cheeseburgers good? As soon as these're done I'll make another batch for us," he said.
We sat in silence as Lauren gobbled down her "lunch", including the four thick ground beef patties (rare, of course) that he made for her. I wasn't sure I'd be able to eat until Doc set a plate in front of me, and then both Mulder and I did justice to the well-cooked cheeseburgers as well as a pitcher of iced tea that he put in the middle of the table for us to help ourselves from.
By the time all of us had finished eating the tension had dissipated. Lauren got up and cleared the table, waving away my offer to help, then came back with an ashtray and a pack of what looked like miniature cigars. "Do you mind if we smoke?" she asked, setting both in front of Doc, who sat to her left.
Both Mulder and I shook our heads, and Doc got up and opened one of the kitchen windows a half-inch or so. A drift of cold, snow-scented air wafted in, blowing away much of the lingering scents of cooking. Lauren lit one of the little plastic-tipped cigar-like cigarettes, inhaled, then passed it over to Doc. "I quit smoking cigarettes shortly after we were married," she explained, "But when Doc smokes his cigarillos it makes me want to start up again, so we share 'em."
I poured more iced tea for both Mulder and I, as the older couple were drinking coffee. "Lauren... when and how did you discover that you're a shapeshifter?" I asked.
"That's quite a story in itself," she said slowly, glancing over at Doc. "Would you mind if we had a moment to ourselves?"
"Sure; c'mon, Scully, let's go for a walk," Mulder said right away, getting up from the table. "If we could get our coats?"
I very soon discovered why he was so eager to get away from them. We walked from the back porch to the field where the horses were, our shoes crunching on the frozen snow which, thankfully, was shoveled so I didn't ruin my shoes any further, our breath pluming out before us. There were no dogs in the runs on either side of the barn, which I found a bit unusual for a kennel, but assumed that Lauren or Doc had probably locked them inside expecting our arrival.
"Scully, are you absolutely sure that this isn't some kind of smoke and mirrors?" he asked me as we strolled along the shoveled path. "We've seen some seriously odd things in our years with the X-Files, but this. . ."
"I'm pretty well convinced, Mulder," I told him, shoving my hands deep in my coat pockets. Had I known we'd be out walking I'd have brought my hat, scarf, and gloves from the car but I made do the best I could. At least I'd worn my heavy wool peacoat instead of the lighter Burberry when we'd left the motel earlier. "I wasn't right next to her when she changed, but from what I saw it's the real deal." This didn't happen often, me being the believer and him the skeptic, and it felt more than a little odd.
We reached the fence and the two horses ambled over. I wished I'd thought to bring a treat for them, but they were friendly enough and allowed me to pet them, sniffing me and snorting out clouds of steam. They both had thick fuzzy winter coats that were warm on my hands, especially when I stroked their necks beneath the long thick manes. Then I noticed that Mulder was hanging back and said, "What, are you afraid of horses, Mulder?"
"No, of course not. Just never been around them," he said, keeping his distance. "Never been around animals much at all."
"You're missing out," I told him, scratching the big reddish-brown horse behind his furry ears. He lowered his head and sighed, obviously quite content with my ministrations. The other one, which was smaller and black and white spotted, nudged my arm, which was resting on top of the fence, and I used my other hand to pat him on the neck. "Two hands, two horses, right guys?" I told them. "C'mon over, Mulder. They don't bite. These are friendly horses, they just want attention."
"No, I'm good," he said, staying where he was. "So anyway, what do you think of her, Scully?"
"What do you mean, think of her?" I asked as the black and white horse apparently got bored and wandered away towards the large pile of hay in the middle of the field. The red one, however, was now my friend and snuffled my shoulder when I moved my hand away from him. I smoothed his pale yellow forelock down his face and patted his furry cheek. "You mean personally, or her ability?"
"Both," he said, standing with his shoulders hunched against the light breeze that sprung up now and then. "If this isn't some kind of elaborate hoax, are they con artists? Either way, what do they want from us?"
"Now that I'm not sure about," I admitted. "She did have me do an exam before I saw her shapeshift, and I can tell you with reasonable certainty that she's about as normal, physically, as I am or any other woman I've ever examined. But there is one unusual thing I found, though it's not abnormal: she in the single best physical shape I've ever seen a human being in. It's like she's got what I imagine is a wolf's physical fitness level, with every muscle perfectly toned. She's got six-pack abs and thigh muscles of the kind that I've only seen on Olympic athletes."
"Hmn," Mulder said, frowning thoughtfully. "Maybe the shapeshifting does that rather than her being a wolf. You know, tone her muscles as she goes back and forth. It's got to work them."
I replied, "Could be. Let's go in, Mulder, it's freezing out here." I gave the horse one last pat and shoved my hands back in my pockets, scrunching my head down into the collar of my coat.
"Cold, Scully?" he said as we moved away from the paddock and back towards the house. Like he'd done at Coppolia's, he put an arm around me and pulled me against his side, rubbing my arm as we walked. "Two are warmer than one."
"I don't see any sleeping bags raining down out of the sky, so don't get any ideas," I told him, remembering our night in the Florida forest several years ago. But I let his arm stay and even snuggled closer to him. He was right, it was warmer with us closer like this, and I could feel his body moving through the layers of our clothes and coats. His hip bumped me with every step but I didn't protest, though I did wonder what Doc and Lauren might think if they saw us. Just as that thought occurred to me and I was about to move away, Mulder let go of me and waved me onto the back porch in front of him.
The house was warm and smelled of cooking, coffee, and, faintly, cigarettes, not a bad combination. Doc and Lauren were still at the table talking when we came in the back door, and when he got up to take our coats we waved him off and hung them over the back of the chairs. A steaming cup sat in front of each of us, with creamer, sugar, and even a clear glass bowl holding packets of Sweet'n' Low in the middle of the table.
We both thanked them, Doc waving us off much as we'd done with him regarding the coats. "I see you met our horses," he said as we sat down. "The chestnut is Lauren's old guy, the pinto's mine. Too bad we didn't have ya take an apple or two out for them."
"I was thinking that when we got out there, but they seemed pretty happy with the attention." I wondered if they'd seen Mulder with his arm around me, then decided it didn't matter. Blowing lightly on my coffee, I looked over at the other woman and said, "Lauren, you were going to tell us how you became, or discovered you were, a werewolf."
"Shapechanger," she corrected with no heat. "Even if I cut it back a lot it's a long story. You sure you want it now?"
Both Mulder and I nodded, and he said, "Trust me, we're used to long stories."
Lauren smiled over at us, then the smile faded to an almost grim look. "It began in the summer of 1985," she began, her fingers still grasping Doc's tightly, "when I met Richard Wulfbeck, whom I later discovered was my half-brother—same father, different mothers. But at the time we met I didn't know him to be anything other than an attractive man I was interested in dating. By October, we were engaged." She grimaced, heaved a sigh, and looked down at her empty coffee cup.
"He had all of us fooled," Doc stepped in when Lauren's pause dragged out a bit longer than was polite. "I knew him as well as anyone other than Lauren, and he didn't seem to be unusual in any way."
I raised my eyebrows and looked pointedly at their linked hands.
"Oh, we were just best friends at the time," Doc added, reaching over with his other hand and wrapping it around her wrist above their linked fingers. "We'd been friends for years before that. My first wife, Elaine, was still alive at that time and I didn't have eyes for anyone else. It wasn't until a couple-a years after Rick and a few months after Elaine died that we realized how we felt about each other."
"They both died?" Mulder said. "How?"
"Rick's death is an important part of the story so I'll let Laur tell you that, but Elaine died of ovarian cancer six months after being diagnosed," Doc said, his lined face sad. "She'd been having symptoms for months but never let on, and by the time she ended up in the hospital it was too late to do anything but make her comfortable." He heaved a sigh, and he and Lauren shared an understanding look; this time she reached over and stroked his forearm with clear sympathy. "I still feel bad that I didn't see what was going on with her, but I know I can't blame myself. We won't get into that, this is Lauren's story."
"Anyway, it wasn't until after we were engaged that I found out that Rick had been lying to me in about every way possible—and I found out because he drugged me and made me turn into a wolf. Not the wolf you saw which still has my mind, but the vicious killer of legend. We both went out and laid waste in every direction, slaughtering everything we could catch and eat. Luckily that didn't include any people though my luck didn't hold in that direction."
"Oh, by the way, if we tell you about some unsolved murders from near twenty years ago, she can't still be held responsible for them, can she?" Doc asked, his eyes worried beneath the thick brows.
"There's no statute of limitations on first-degree murder, but it's unlikely we'll report anything unless we see a good reason to," Mulder said. "Especially from twenty years ago." He looked over at me, and I nodded in agreement.
"Okay then," Lauren said, reaching over to rub the back of Doc's liver-spotted hand before reaching for the package of cigarillos. He let go of her and cracked the window open before returning to the table and taking up her hand again. "It turns out that Rick could shapeshift, and only into a wolf, with the help of a mushroom he grew called niczi. But we discovered that I was not only able to shift without it, but into almost any animal of a similar size that I wanted to—and I think that kind of drove him crazy." She paused to take a puff from the small cigar, then continued, "That, and that the more lies I caught him in, the more I pulled away from him. And, as I was later to find out, it was life or death for him to not only marry me, but to have a child with me." She looked up at us with pain clear in her eyes, and I noted that Doc now had one hand on her shoulder as if to steady her.
"Don't get ahead of yourself," he said, "Take your time and tell it right."
I nodded. "What kind of lies did you catch him in?"
Lauren shook her head with disgust. "A better question would be what part of his life was the truth?" she said, passing the cigarillo to Doc. "Just about everything he told me when we met was a fucking lie, pardon my French," she said bitterly. "He was a high school teacher and writer, but that was about it. He had researched his bloodlines until he found me, an unknown half sister, and deliberately targeted me to breed with. And, according to him, the reason he did that was because. . . and this is going to sound crazy so bear with me. . . because he was one of two princes who were in line for the loup-garou throne and only the one with a legitimate heir could inherit," she said rather quickly. "I can't tell you the truth of that one way or another, but that's what he told me. And, if nothing else, I did get a kind of verification of that from one of his cousins who came to see—and threaten—me."
"She's werewolf royalty," Doc added. "Having a Cherokee princess as your ancestor is nothing compared to this."
Lauren snorted laughter and smacked him lightly on the shoulder, then sobered. "No shit. I'm not sure how much of that garbage I believe, but regardless that's what he believed and Sabine backed up. And it eventually caused his death."
The kitchen was quiet for a few beats, only the ticking of the butcherblock clock over the refrigerator making any noise at all. I glanced over at Mulder, but he sat quietly with his hands cupped around his dark brown coffee mug, eyes on Lauren.
"He also told me—and I know enough about genetics and evolution to know that this is bullshit, but I'm going to mention it anyway—that we are descended from canines rather than apes. I know, I know," she raised a hand to us, "It's utter nonsense, but who knows, it may turn out to be important to this whole thing overall. Anyway, when I found out Rick's plans, I flat-out told him that he was crazy and I wasn't going along with any of them—and told him to get out of my life. To my shock, right here in this kitchen he turned into a wolf and attacked me. Jesus, it's like it was yesterday."
She heaved a deep sigh and I saw Doc's hand on her shoulder tighten, but neither of them moved otherwise. "He must have taken the niczi while sure that I would agree, and when I didn't he totally lost control. I was able to stay myself and shapeshift, hoping he'd see me as his mate as he had the other times we'd run together, and avoid a fight. But he was too far gone—when he realized that I was fighting back, he seemed to loose heart and give up—he slashed his own throat open on my teeth." She put her face in her hands. None of us moved, then she raised her face to us, showing that tears were streaking down her cheeks and said in a strong yet quivering voice, "The one good thing, the thing that made me able to go on day after day after that happened, is that he died with his dreams intact. You see, I can't have children—never have been able to. I was born with a deformed uterus and had a partial hysterectomy at sixteen. At least he never knew that, that all he'd gone though with me was for nothing."
I froze, caught between sympathy for her and shock at hearing that. It hadn't been that long since I'd found out about my own barrenness, and I wasn't sure how to respond. I felt Mulder's eyes on me, but didn't look back at him.
Doc scooted his chair over next to hers and now Lauren buried her face in Doc's shoulder, both of his arms around her. I looked away, past Lauren's shoulder and out the window, not really seeing anything.
"Fifteen goddamn years," she said, her voice muffled against her husband's shirt. "Fifteen years, and it still tears me apart inside."
"Some pain never goes away, but we learn to live with it day by day," Mulder said softly. "Even if most of us don't have to deal with something that horrible."
Both Doc and Lauren looked at him, and I followed suit. His face was understanding, hazel eyes open and with their own whisper of pain. Sometimes I forget that he's been trained as a psychologist as well as having his own demons.
"Yeah, that's about it," Lauren agreed, wiping her cheeks with both hands. "I don't like to talk about it, but..."
"You knew you'd hafta when they showed up," Doc said, stroking a hand over her wavy hair. It was another of those achingly sweet gestures between them that showed the depth of emotion they shared. "But it's over now."
"Well... not exactly," I hated to say, but did. "I can't speak for my partner, but I've got a lot of questions for you. And I'd like you to repeat your story into a tape recorder, if you would."
"Sure, why not," Lauren agreed listlessly. "I guess it's a trade-off to get the truth."
"The truth?" Mulder sat up straighter and stared over at her. "What truth?"
She raised her head to stare right back at him. "The truth of what I am," she said simply. "I want, and need to know, just exactly what in the hell I am."
***
Mulder and I decided to head back to the hotel and get our recording equipment as well as my doctor's bag so we could document everything we needed to do. It was agreed that we'd come back the next day around ten or so, when we'd tape Lauren's story and take blood, DNA, and any other samples I thought might be necessary. As he drove back to Sault Ste. Marie I pulled out my notebook and made notes of things I wanted to be sure not to forget, mainly impressions I got of them during our first meeting.
"So, what do you think?" I asked, flipping my book closed and setting it on the seat between us.
"I think that no matter what else she may be, Lauren had a serious trauma that scarred her for life," Mulder said, glancing over at me. "And we may finally be on the verge of getting concrete proof of the paranormal. Again. Unless, of course, her shapeshifting is natural instead of supernatural."
"Do you believe that nonsense about being from canid rather than simian stock?" I asked. "I think—"
"No, I don't believe that, but even you told me that she really is a shapeshifter no matter how she does it," he interrupted me, glancing over. "Do you think the tests on her will show anything abnormal, like Tooms or van Blundt?"
"Probably," I said, turning to frown out the window as the snowy landscape flew by. He knows I hate to be interrupted. But our discussion was going so well that I didn't want to disturb it by being snotty. "Speaking of, I wonder if it's the same type of abnormality that van Blundt showed? He could shapeshift too, although only into other people."
"Maybe not," Mulder said with dawning excitement in his voice. "Do we know if he ever tried to do anything but put on someone else's body?"
"Not that I'm aware of," I said, suddenly recalling seeing Mulder's face coming at me as he hovered over my body. I constantly had to remind myself that that hadn't been him, but the lines blurred sometimes. "But I don't see why he couldn't, keeping the same mass and size—oh, for crying out loud! Now I know why Lauren's Bigfoot looked so odd!"
He swerved just slightly as I let out the exclamation. "What?"
"When Lauren shapeshifted into the Bigfoot I remember thinking that she looked odd, somehow, odder than just a hairy beast-woman does in the first place," I said, my words almost stumbling over each other in my haste to get them out. "When she turned into the animals, they were large for their species. But we're used to seeing Bigfoot portrayed as a huge, eight-foot-tall creature. Lauren wasn't. She was about my height, but much more massive and muscular. She must have had to keep the same mass as her own body, hence the lessening in height. I wonder if she even realizes she's doing that?"
"I'd bet she doesn't have a choice," Mulder said, turning onto the road that would take us into town. "I can't see how either of them could add or remove mass when they shifted."
"Van Blundt did," I mused, thinking. "Or maybe not. He was a lot heavier than you, Mulder, but you're much taller and more muscular. Equal mass, you think? Or was there some way he could hide the discrepancy?"
"Hide? Like how?"
I frowned, thinking. "I don't know, perhaps under the skin? If he needed more mass than he had available, maybe air instead of fat or muscle to flesh it out? Either way, I'm going to get van Blundt's records and compare them to Lauren's test results."
"Do you think we can get video of her shapeshifting?" Mulder asked. "I can understand that she doesn't want to be seen naked, but perhaps we can blur out the important parts."
"We'll have to ask," I said. "You're right, we should have video, too. Maybe the sheriff's department has a camcorder we can borrow."
"One thing I thought of," Mulder said. "I wonder if her senses carry over each way? When she's human does she have—or can she bring on—say, the sense of smell or hearing of a wolf, or when she's a wolf is she limited to human senses?"
"I'd assume she becomes fully animal, including senses, when she changes," I replied thoughtfully. "But it is something to ask about. By the way, we never did ask her about Janice Coppolia, which was the main reason we went out there."
"I talked with Doc about her while he was cooking," Mulder told me, eyes on the road. "Apparently she was fine with knowing that Lauren was a werewolf for a while, but a few years after she first saw Lauren shapeshift she began to lose it, to use Doc's terminology, until they finally had to institutionalize her. He's not sure she should be out, but Lauren refuses to put her back in a hospital. She still feels terribly guilty about it, so guilty she doesn't dare go see her because she's afraid it might make her dementia worse."
We lapsed into silence for a time. I was so busy running over everything in my mind that I barely noticed when the car stopped. I looked around, wondering where in the hell we were, but before I could speak he said, turning towards me and putting his arm along the back of the seat, "We're off-duty, Scully, can I buy you a drink?"
I saw that we were sitting outside a rather ratty-looking single-story wooden building that had "Ed's" printed on the side in giant pink letters, the apostrophe being a highball glass. There were no windows on its sides, just a door at one end with a bright neon sign in the small window that showed the three Budweiser frogs. Small word-balloons lit up above each: "bud-wei-ser", over and over. It looked like a rough working-man's bar, but there were Lexuses, Infinitis, and Audis among the usual collection of Detroit rolling iron in the half-full gravel parking lot. I glanced at my watch and said, "It's barely five o'clock, Mulder, I'm not sure that constitutes off-duty."
"Close enough," he said, shutting the car off and apparently assuming my agreement. I hate it when he does that, too, and he knows it. Hasn't stopped him yet and I was beginning to suspect he was trying to get a rise out of me, although for the life of me I couldn't figure out why he'd want me angry at him. "I could use a drink, or two, after today."
I dug my heels in, both literally and figuratively. "I think I'd rather go back to the motel," I stressed the 'm', "and work on our field report. Since I know I'll be doing it." Hah! Parry that, Mulder.
"If you come in and have at least one drink with me, I'll write the report," he shot right back. "In fact, for every drink we have I'll write the report on future cases. I hate sitting in bars alone."
That was tempting; I wouldn't mind a little unwinding. I said, "Fine. But if you miss writing so much as one and I have to do it, I'll think of some dire punishment that'll be much worse."
He was already out of the car before I finished speaking and I'm sure he didn't hear me, but it didn't matter. I'd remember, that was what mattered.
Inside it was dark, dim, smoky, and as cheesy-looking as I'd been afraid it would be, but the clientele weren't what I'd expected. Though there were a few roughly-dressed workingmen sitting at the bar, it was mostly people who were dressed little different than us, though Mulder's impeccably-tailored Armani suit did get a few second glances. I was glad I'd worn an off-the-rack Ann Taylor instead of one of my more expensive outfits. My guess was that there was an office park or something nearby that this place catered to, since we were on the outskirts of the city.
I followed him to a booth and slid in, shrugging out of my peacoat. "What're you drinking, Scully?" he asked as the waitress walked up.
"Screwdriver," I said off the top of my head. No clue why, it just sounded good at the moment.
"Two screwdrivers," he said, "And a couple bowls of chips or peanuts, whatever you have for munchies." Mulder stood up and took off his trench coat and suit jacket, tossing them into the seat before sliding back in and rolling up the sleeves of his pale blue dress shirt. "So. Quite a day, eh, Scully?"
"Yeah," I agreed. "Not exactly what I expected when I first saw the case file."
He chuckled. "Me either. Of all the people I might have imagined being a werewolf, shapechanger, whatever, it wouldn't be a middle-aged woman with a farm, show dogs, two horses, and a devoted husband."
"Devoted?" I huffed. "Obsessed is more like it. Both of them, with each other. If they weren't so obviously in love I'd think they were more than a little bit crazy."
"Crazy? Don't you think that's a little harsh, Scully?" Mulder said as the waitress returned and put our drinks in front of us, then three small baskets of snacks. He tossed a ten on her tray and nodded at her thanks. "I think they're great. I wish my parents had been like that instead of fighting all the time, even before Samantha disappeared although it got worse afterward."
"My parents were close, but not to that extreme," I said, taking a few peanuts from one bowl. In addition there were nacho chips and regular potato chips; I figured the nuts were the least evil, despite the sodium and probable fat calories I didn't need. Though I wasn't really hungry, the nibbling appealed. "I don't think I've ever seen another couple like those two who've been married for more than a month. And maybe not even then."
"I'd like to be like them someday," Mulder said, grinning over at me. "Find myself a good woman to settle down with who thinks the world of me, and waits on me hand and foot."
I took a sip of my drink, which thankfully wasn't too strong, and gave a rather unladylike huff. "Right, Mulder. Where are you going to find her, in Home, Pennsylvania or elsewhere in the Appalachians? West Virginia, perhaps?"
He laughed, fixing me with that teasing gaze I knew so well. "Are you saying that it won't be you?"
"I'm saying good luck finding someone to wait on you like a... a slave," I said. "I think I'd prefer a man like Doc, having him do the cooking and cleaning."
"I'd do that for you, Scully, stay home and be the house-husband," he said, still grinning. As much as I tried to fight it, that grin did something to me in the vicinity of my heart. "I'd have no problem with you being the breadwinner."
I fixed him with an exasperated look. "Thanks for planning my future for me, Mulder, but I have no plans on changing my marital status anytime soon. So you'll have to find your own Mrs. Failenson if you want to be a kept man."
He looked puzzled for a moment, then I swear I saw him find the reference like he was using a mental card-catalog. Maybe he was, for all I knew. "Breakfast at Tiffany's," he exclaimed. "Played by Patricia Neal."
I nodded and decided to give it right back to him. "I could see you in that role, lounging around all day with some unhappily-married middle-aged woman dropping by every so often for a shot of ass," I said, making sure I was looking down at the table so I wouldn't start laughing and blow it. "You'd probably have them lined up around the block."
I snuck a glimpse and lost it as I knew I would; the deer-in-headlights look on his face was priceless. He was staring at me like I'd grown a second head and it had been the one talking. While I normally wasn't so vulgar, I was a sailor's daughter and certainly could say worse if the mood hit me. I laughed until I thought I was going to pass out, hands over my mouth and leaning to one side so I wouldn't draw attention to myself. I hadn't laughed like this in a long time and God help me, it felt good. "Oh-my-God, Mulder, the look on your face," I manged to choke out, wiping the tears off of my cheeks with my fingers, hoping I hadn't totally ruined my eye makeup. "I'll be right back," I said, sliding out of the booth and looking around for the bathroom signs. More so than repairing my makeup, I had to get a grip on myself. I'd be laughing the rest of the evening if I let myself keep thinking about that look on his face and didn't want to deal with Mulder sulking if I kept laughing at him every time I looked in his direction.
When I came back from the ladies' there was a band tuning up on the small stage I hadn't noticed when we'd come in, and a fresh drink next to my half-empty one. "Thanks," I said, indicating the second drink. "I wasn't sure you'd be talking to me, much less buying me drinks."
"I suppose I can't complain too much about you finally getting me but good," he said with a crooked grin. "Just don't make a habit of it."
"Hah! Every chance I get," I said, raising my half-empty glass to him before taking a drink. "If I don't keep you guessing, who will?"
"Who indeed," he murmured just loud enough to be heard over the discordant band, and the look on his face changed to one that caused a shiver in the pit of my belly. Tipsy or not, we were not going there right now and I turned to look at the band, who were standing around the drum set talking at this point.
"I hope it's not country-western," I said, tilting my head in their direction, not looking at Mulder. "If it is, I'm out of here."
When he didn't reply I snuck a glance and saw that he was still gazing at me, although with more of a thoughtful look on his face. I was uncomfortable and not in a place I wanted to be with him, but decided to wait and see what he said or did. Ever since our brief but unforgettable New Year's Eve kiss three months previous he'd been saying and/or doing things that made me realize that he now saw me in a romantic light--and that I was feeling the same way about him. He hadn't tried to kiss me or done or said anything inappropriate or beyond what a platonic friend would other than his usual Mulder innuendoes, but I could feel him wanting to. I knew damn well that all I had to do was give him the green light and he'd be all over me, but I wasn't ready for it and not sure I'd ever be. Getting romantically involved with Mulder was likely not a good idea, and not just from a professional standpoint either. From what little I knew of his previous romantic entanglements they hadn't ended well, though the same could be said of me.
On the other hand—and there's always an other hand—I had been both physically and mentally attracted to him from day one and my feelings for him had only gotten stronger over the years. You can't share your life, safety, and sanity with another human for so long without getting emotionally entangled, and that was just what I'd done. Still, I'd never really seen him in a romantic light until about a year ago. It was Phillip Padgett who had made me realize how I felt about Mulder, but I hadn't done anything about it. I'd liked, admired, and enjoyed being around this man for a lot of years now, and discovering that somewhere along the way I had unintentionally fallen in love with him was not only startling, but a bit unsettling.
"Scully? You still here, or did you wander off on a trip to Reticula?"
The familiar voice jolted me from my thoughts and without looking over at him, I shook my head. "Just thinking about Lauren and Doc," I dissembled smoothly, then added, "I think I'd like to be like them someday, too, but I'm not sure I could handle having someone hanging all over me like that." Hint, hint.
"Only if it was mutual," he said with a wink at me, then the band began to play and without a word or even a look, we finished our drinks and left. When it came to badly-executed rockabilly it didn't take telepathy to know each other's thoughts.
I had a difficult time going to sleep that night and tossed and turned for a good hour after turning in. Doc and Lauren stayed in my head, the way they were so openly and honestly affectionate with each other, and I wasn't sure why I was so restless and thinking about them. If it was the lack of same in my life, I knew damn well all I had to do was open the connecting door and I could have Mulder in my bed in a heartbeat. He'd made that abundantly clear just today, never mind being increasingly obviously in the recent past. I wanted more than the shot of ass I'd teased him about tonight and yet I wasn't sure that I was ready for anything more, especially with my intense and focused partner. I knew that with us it would be more than a one-night stand, that if we ever did sleep together it would be the beginning of a whole new complicated relationship for us.
Rolling over to a cooler spot on the bed, I wondered if he was having the same trouble sleeping that I was. I hadn't heard anything for a while, but there had been some thumps and other noises from his room on and off after I'd left it—and I didn't hear the TV going. We'd ordered a pizza for dinner, worked on the report (he typed, I dictated) and then watched TV for a while, choosing to use his room because it had a small rickety table to eat at. To hell with regs; like he said, I get tired of sitting alone in bars as well as restaurants and motel rooms.
Without realizing it I must have dozed off, because when my cell phone rang it startled me out of sleep. I had trouble locating it in the dark room and I couldn't find the light switch, but I managed to get it before the call went to voicemail. "Scully," I mumbled into the mouthpiece.
"Agent Scully? It's A.D. Skinner. Sorry to wake you, but I need you and Mulder to get on a plane to D.C. as soon as you can."
"Sir, we're right in the middle of--" The room was flooded with what seemed like bright light and I blinked owlishly, throwing my other arm up over my eyes to block it. "What the...?"
"Scully?" Skinner said from the phone.
"Scully?" Mulder said from the open doorway of our connecting rooms.
"What?" I said back to both.
"Is that Agent Mulder I hear?" Skinner asked in a clearly disapproving voice.
"Who's on the phone?" Mulder asked, taking a couple steps into the room. I saw that he was wearing nothing more than a t-shirt and shorts, maybe briefs. I could only imagine what Skinner thought! I waved madly at him, pointing repeatedly towards his room.
"Mulder, get out of my room until I'm dressed and yes, sir, that's who you hear," I said to both again, then hastened to add for our boss' benefit, "He just came in through the connecting door between our rooms to see who was on the phone." God, I hoped he bought it. Sometimes the truth is less believable than what people want to think.
"Whoops," Mulder said, beating a hasty retreat.
"Nice thick walls in that place," Skinner remarked sarcastically. "Well, I don't have too many details at this time but it's a developing emergency situation and I need every agent I can get. Come straight to my office from the airport."
"Will do, sir," I said and disconnected. Sitting up, I found the light switch for the bedside lamp just as Mulder reappeared in the doorway, this time wearing a pair of dark sweatpants in addition to the white t-shirt. "Thanks a lot, Mulder, now he thinks you were in my room when he called!"
"Sorry, when I heard your phone at five in the morning I thought it might be a family emergency or something," he said, walking across the room and sitting on the edge of my bed. I drew my legs up and stayed beneath the covers. "Never occurred to me that Skinner would call this time of the morning."
"Anyway, we've been called back to D.C. immediately. Skinner didn't say what it was, just that there's a developing situation and he wants us back right away—we're to go straight to the office from the airport."
"Doesn't that just figure," he said, leaning both elbows on his knees and scrubbing at his face with both hands. His hair was tossed every whichaway and even from here I could feel the bed-heat radiating off him. "The good thing is that I'm sure Lauren will understand, the bad thing is that we may not be able to get the Bureau to finance another trip out here."
"I'll pay for my own ticket if I have to," I said, easing my legs out from beneath the covers and sitting up on the edge of the bed as well. I was wearing my oversized cotton pajamas and felt dressed enough even without a robe. "I'd never sleep again if I didn't find out what it is that causes her to shapeshift. Now get out of here, Mulder, why don't you call the airport and see if you can find a flight for us while I shower?"
"Any reason you can't make the call while I shower?" he countered, getting up and sauntering as slowly as he could towards the connecting door.
"I take longer than you do," I said shortly. "And any sexist remarks will be held against you, so don't even think it."
He stopped and grinned back at me. "If I tell you how cute and sexy you look all tousled just out of bed, is that a sexist remark?"
"Do I have to get my gun?"