A/N: Sorry sorry sorry for killing Leonie... However, that was during France's Belle Epoque, she would be dead anyway! I can neither confirm nor deny the demise of Dana Scully by the end of this story :) HUGS! Thanks a ton for the reviews. And, yeah, what is wrong with us fan fiction writers today?! I better get my act together ;) Maybe you all will like this chapter better... At least it's long one!
Mulder woke up covered in sweat.
That sucks... he thought.
He could feel the tears on his face, as if he had been the one crying over Leonie. He glanced over at Scully's sleeping form. She seemed okay. No bad dreams there.
Mulder slowly and quietly pushed himself out of bed. He grabbed his boxers off of the floor, pulled them on, and quickly tip-toed out of the room. He made his way through the dark to the kitchen. He grabbed a glass and held it under the facet, filling it with cold water.
"I wish this was beer," he told himself. "Fuck, I need a shot after that dream!"
He leaned against the counter and chugged the water. He filled the glass again and chugged down another cool helping of water. He set the glass down and made his way to the couch. Luckily, they had pretty much striped down Scully's bed last night and all of the contents were now on the couch. Mulder burrowed into the covers, remembering how he cuddled Scully last night as they watched stupid, but funny, movies to take their minds off of more sinister things.
Mulder stared at the ceiling. He knew that sleep would not find him again tonight. He debated whether or not he should start packing their things. He had made his mind up last night after he had to give Scully a shower to get Luke's blood off of her body and out of her hair. She, of course, was standing there like a ghost, silent and unresponsive, while he washed her body and hair. The thought made him run a had through his own, still damp, hair.
This case had messed with her mind. He wasn't sure how he was going to fix it, but he was going to try his best. It broke his heart to see how affected she was by all of this. He felt like an asshole for not feeling affected at all. They only thing that affected him was her. How she felt. And after that dream there was no way that they were going to stay here another day.
A piercing scream came from his bedroom. Mulder was up and back in the room in a flash.
"Scully!" he said her name loudly and shook her, trying wake her from her nightmare. He had an idea what it was about.
Suddenly, her small fist met with his cheekbone. She flailed to try to push him away. The punch ached, but he refused to be pushed away.
"Scully!" he said her name again, this time holding her arms to her sides.
Her eyes shot open. He could see immediately the fear in those beautiful blue eyes of hers. He released her arms, only to have them thrown around his neck.
"Mulder!" she exclaimed, relieved.
Scully kissed him firmly on the lips. Not breaking the kiss, he maneuvered so that they were both laying on their sides facing each other. He ran a hand through her damp hair, letting it come to a rest at the back of her head.
When they broke their kiss, Scully was the first to speak.
"I was always told that you weren't suppose to die in your dreams..."
"I know," was all he could reply.
"Did you have the same dream?"
He nodded.
"Did Chevigny look familiar to you?" she asked; however, the question was leading, as if she now knew something that he didn't.
A look of thoughtfulness spread across his handsome face.
"Not really," he finally replied.
"Hmm," was all she said.
"You know something."
"I do."
"What?"
"I'm trying to think of what to do with this knowledge..."
"Tell me."
"You still want to leave?"
"Yes."
"What if I told you that the killer is Chevigny?"
"Impossible."
Their roles were reversed. Scully the believer, Mulder the skeptic.
"I believe you," she told him, pressing her lips to his. "I believe, now, that our dreams were real. That they were our past lives. What if we're not the only ones having them?"
"Will you just tell me?!" he said frustrated, but he gave her a smile, letting her know that he wasn't angry.
She smiled back, shaking her head.
"You do this to me all of the time. It's my turn now. He's not going anywhere anyway..."
"Who?" he tried.
"Mulder, just listen to me. I really think that I'm right about the murders being done to bring us here, not that we're here just to investigate. I don't think he wants to kill me. I just think he wants me."
Mulder wasn't sure if that was actually a better fate.
"When I was with Luke, he extended his hand to me, almost gently. He just wanted me to come with him. To choose him. He didn't try to kill me."
"He chased you," Mulder pointed out.
"Yeah, because he meant to take me. Not to kill me."
"I'm not sure... Why are you suddenly changing your mind about this?"
"My dream," she simply said.
"Your dream?"
"Yes. You only saw through Edouard's eyes. I saw through Leonie's. You never heard anything that Chevigny ever told her."
"What did he tell her, then?"
"He wanted her to come with him. Only when she told him that she was married to Edouard and pregnant did he stab her. He told her that they would be together again. That he would come for her. And that's what the killer has been telling me. That he would come for me, not that he was going to kill me."
"But he still might want to kill you, Scully."
She shook her head. "I don't think so."
Mulder stared at her in disbelief. Last night she was falling apart. When he woke her up she seemed terrified. Now she seemed almost happy. It kind of creeped him out.
They call me Spooky...
"I think it's time that I pay a visit to my secret admirer."
"I think not!"
"Mulder, I don't think that he will do anything if I act like I'm just asking him some questions, and that I don't know he's the killer."
"If you know who it is, then why don't we all go and arrest him. Together. Everyone. Though, maybe you shouldn't even go."
"Mulder..." she sighed, gently slapping his arm. "Don't be ridiculous."
"Me?! Ridiculous?! You're the one who wants to walk calmly into certain death!"
"I've already told you. He doesn't want to kill me. Besides, we don't have any actual proof that he is our killer. I don't think that our dreams will hold up in court!"
"Okay, then, what's your great plan that I know I won't let you actually do?"
Scully rolled her eyes at him.
"Don't roll your eyes at me! I'm not going to let you do anything stupid and reckless."
"I think that I should go ask him some questions and see if he's wearing the ring that left a mark on Claire. If so, I'll arrest him before he knows anything is going on."
"If not?"
"Well, I was hoping that you could help me come up with something..."
"Ha! Not a chance. I like my plan. I'll get Sheriff Clark- unless it is the sheriff?"
"No. Not Sheriff Clark."
"Then I'll get Sheriff Clark and his whole police force, go to this guy's house, and arrest him."
"Arrest him for what? You know, since you don't actually have any proof? And trust me, you'll need proof to even convince the sheriff to go along with you."
Mulder let out and exasperated sigh. She was beating him in their little argument, and he didn't like it.
"I will not let you go alone," he told her, giving in to her plan.
She smiled, knowing that she had won. "I have to."
"You do not have to!"
"You'll intimidate him, Edouard," she said, tapping his chest with her pointer finger. "However, I think that he may even slip up and tell Leonie something," she added, indicating herself.
"I will not let you go alone," he repeated.
"Fine," she conceded.
"Good," he said as happily as he could, and then kissed her lips. He pulled back and asked, "Now, will you finally tell me who we are going to visit today?"
"Mayor Vance Malloy," she answered.
Mulder didn't look as surprised as Scully thought he would. However, he did look as if his mind was racing, trying to fit everything that they had learned over the past few days together.
"But he was at the Fall Festival Dinner when Claire was murdered."
"Was he?"
"I suppose she could have been murdered earlier... But he spoke at her memorial service."
"Yep. That just makes him an even crueler person than he already is."
"Another reason why I refuse to let you leave my sight!"
Mulder kissed her again, rolling himself on top of her.
"It's only about 6am..." he began. "What shall we do to pass the time until the rest of the world wakes up with us?" he asked, raising his eyebrows.
She laughed. "Well, I know what you want to do..."
His face took on a mixture of a mock innocent/shocked expression.
"Whatever could you mean?! I asked you what you wanted to do. Our morning activity is up to you..."
His face broke, and he smiled mischievously. Scully rolled her eyes, but she kissed him deeply, sensually, letting him know exactly what she wanted to do.
***
Mulder was in the shower, taking a proper one rather than the rinse that he had last night. Scully dried her hair since it had still been wet from the night before. She got dressed in one of her more professional outfits. A black pantsuit with a green turtleneck lightweight sweater. She picked up her FBI ID and gun. She glanced at the closed bathroom door. Hearing that the shower was still on, she scribbled a note to Mulder and headed out the door. She knew that he was going to be so very angry with her, but she had meant what she had said about him intimidating Malloy. She desperately didn't want him to go. She was sure that Malloy would not hurt her, and she needed him to talk to her. To hopefully slip up and say something useful. It was their only hope.
Mulder stepped out of the shower, wrapped himself in a towel (not really sure if it was his or Scully's), and walked out of the bathroom. He went into his bedroom, expecting Scully to be there. He looked around, knowing that something wasn't right. He spotted a note on the desk. The handwriting was hers.
Mulder-
Gone ahead without you. I need some time to try to get a confession, or SOMETHING! Please don't be angry. See you soon!
Love,
Your Scully
He knew that she had signed the note 'Your Scully' to soften him. It didn't work. He wasn't angry. He was furious. He crumpled the note up and threw it at the bed. He felt slightly betrayed. For the first time ever- well, except for maybe the time that she shot him- he thought the word bitch to describe his feelings for her. Why did she do this to him?
Run off now, Mulder. Go and save Scully, AGAIN! he thought begrudgingly.
He put on his suit as quickly as possible. He was out the door in no time at all. The only problem he had was that he didn't know how long Scully had been gone. She could be dead already for all he knew. Though, he tried not to think about it.