McGinty's Bar

Thursday

30th Dec 10.50PM

The smell of the whisky tinged with the stale stench of sweat almost propelled her back through the open bar door, but instead she stepped through the smoky air and let the door close behind her. Ignoring the curious glances from the men who littered the room she strode along the bar, weaving through the tables until she spotted him.

Sitting on a high stool, his chin was resting on his hands, as his elbows leaning on the bar amidst a row of upturned shot glasses. One glass in front of his nose was full and awaiting his attention but he just stared vacantly at it. Approaching carefully, Scully stood behind him for a moment then reached out to touch his back. She hesitated, her hand hovering over his shoulder, trembling, finally pulling it back to her side. All the times she felt his hand on her back, her arm, her shoulder, all of a sudden meant something more. Something she'd felt she would never experience again. And at that moment she felt that he would never return. He would never heal.

"Mulder?" she said softly, hoping not to startle him. Loud country music played in the bar, disguising her voice so she spoke a little louder. "Mulder."

Without lifting his head he turned to the side to see her watching him. "Go away," he mumbled turning back to his drink.

"C'mon Mulder, let me take you home."

"No. Get out of here. Leave me alone." He looked over at her again as if to check that she was leaving.

Scully waited for him to face her fully but his chin returned to his hands and his eyes to their vigil of the shot glass. She slipped in between the stools and sat next to him, sitting sideways to face him fully. Her feet barely reached the step, her elbow that rested on the bar was in a puddle of some unidentifiable liquid, but she pushed all those thoughts out of her mind and watched him.

For ages he did nothing. His eyes were unmoving as he watched the amber liquid in the glass before him. Then without warning he sat up like a shot, grabbed his drink and threw it down his throat. Slamming the glass upside-down onto the counter, he pulled his coat from the chair beside him and stalked haphazardly out of the bar.

In the cold, snow-threatening air outside, he fixed his coat collar up around his neck and winced into the night. In his pocket the car keys poked into his hip and he could see his car parked at the corner of the block.

With any luck, he mused, he'd crash the car and finally it would be over.

"Don't even think about it."

She stood behind him, her arms folded across her chest, a deep frown on her face.

"You still here?" he coughed into his hand, hugging one arm across his chest where his lungs ached from the biting wind.

"I'm not going anywhere Mulder."

He hadn't waited for her reply as he staggered away up the footpath in the opposite direction of his car. She hurried after him and walked by his side.

"Get out of here Scully!" he muttered angrily through gritted teeth.

"And then what?" she barked back. "You want to take a drive? Run a red light? Kill someone?"

"Just leave it! I want to be alone."

"You know what Mulder," she shouted back to him angrily. "You've had four years alone. You can't spend the rest of your life alone."

"Can't I?" he countered with a sneer.

"Is that why you came back to DC? To be alone?" He stopped short, what sounded like a sob caught in his throat.

"It was a mistake. I shouldn't have come back here."

"No Mulder, it wasn't a mistake." Her voice softened. "But it is hard. It's going to be the hardest thing you will ever have to do."

"Don't you think I know that?" his pace quickened and he knew she'd have trouble keeping up with his long strides, especially on the icy footpath.

"Is that why you are quitting?" she called after him.

He turned to see her standing a couple of yards behind him. Her nose and cheeks were red with the cold and her chin shivered in time with her chattering teeth. Her hands were buried deep into her pockets, soaking up whatever heat they could.

"Quit?" He said quietly. "You have to try before you can quit."

"You can't quit now Mulder," her voice melting through the cold air. "You've only just begun."

"I can't do it." He whispered into the night. She walked over to him and put a hand on his arm, immediately regretting touching him as his shoulder tensed and he pulled away from her. "God help me….I can't," he repeated.

Face to face with the battle she was fighting to keep the tears and emotions under control, she almost lost her resolve.

"You can. I know you can. I can help you."

"Help me?" he laughed a crazy bark of mirth that released a few salty droplets from his eyes. "Help me understand what happened to me? How he abused me? Tortured me? Raped me? You can help me understand that?" He tried to ignore the tears that fell over his cheeks, which trailed their way down his face to drop onto his tee shirt collar as his incredulity died down and left only anger. "I don't think I want to understand."

He turned his back to her and started to walk away but she grabbed his elbow and pulled him back towards her.

"Leave me alone!" he shouted swinging back in anger with his arm flung out wide, hitting her on the cheek with the back of his hand.

The sound of the smack stunned them both into silence, frozen in position, facing each other in shock. Her cheek was stinging and hot where his hand had connected, but she was afraid to touch it. To press the tender skin and fell the sharper tingling pain would be to make it real.

He watched in horror as the damning shape of his fingers appeared on her cheek and temple. He had only meant to shrug her away but there it was, reddening on her cheek the undisputable consequence of his hand. Her eyes were wide and glassy with unspent tears, the cold forgotten as she stared at him with her mouth slightly open and her body deathly still. Small puffs of cold air escaped past her lips in short shallow breaths.

The apology was on his lips but it sounded so contrite and forced that it died there. Suddenly his legs came to life as he backed away from her. He turned and ambled away into the night, almost stumbling, his mind reeling with thoughts too fast to grasp as his feet tried to catch up.

Scully watched him disappear into the blackness of the city. It took a moment more before the cold reclaimed her senses as she shivered now from both shock and the low temperatures. The sound of her cell phone ringing didn't register immediately. When finally the sound cut through the fog of her senses she pulled it out of her pocket and answered it.

"Hello."

"Dana, its David."

"What is it?"

"Another body."

"Where?" she turned towards the car and pulled out the spare keys.

"St Benedict's hostel on Wilson Drive."

"Okay I'll meet you there."

St Benedict's Hostel

Thursday

30th Dec 11.20PM

David McLane stood at the entrance to the hostel and pulled his scarf tighter around his neck. The snow had been falling steadily for the best part of an hour, covering all surfaces in a slick dirty white slush that seemed to find its way into his shoes.

His gloved hands held his notebook as he took the details from Detective Ellis, who was first on the murder scene. It was almost a mirror image of the previous murder scene they'd visited already that day, bringing with every familiar detail, an uncomfortable sinking heavy sensation in David's chest.

He spotted her car pulling up across the street and excused himself from the detective. Folding his notebook into his pocket, he descended the entrance steps and stood by the curb but she didn't seem to be climbing out of the car. Her hands were holding the steering wheel tightly and she sat unmoving, staring straight ahead. David checked the traffic and hurried across the street. Bending low he gently rapped on the window.

Startled she turned to face him and by now he'd spotted the tears that stained her face. Immediately David pulled the door open and leaned in closer to her.

"Dana?" he asked. "What's wrong? What happened?" He moved away from the car as she undid her belt and climbed out.

"Nothing David. I'm just tired." She was instantly grateful for the flashing police lights that disguised the red swollen mark on her right cheek. Keeping half turned away from him she stared at the building and started to walk over to it. "What happened here?"

For a moment David said nothing, and then followed her closely, relaying all the details he collected.

"She was found in the bathroom. Her wrists had been slashed and it looks like she was strangled with a cord from a bathrobe."

"Is it the same MO?" Scully asked, moving her personal thoughts aside as she slipped into her FBI façade.

"All the details match. The hostel, street kids, slashed wrists but probable death from asphyxiation."

"Is the body still up there?" They stood at the bottom of the entrance stairs.

"No I had her moved to Quantico. Do you want to do the autopsy or should I call Dr Cassidy?"

"No I'd prefer to do it." She glanced up and down the street, anything but look at David. "Who found the body?"

"The night manager. He's at the precinct. Detective Ellis sent him there about half an hour ago. I haven't spoken to him yet, I was about to go see him."

"I just want to check the scene and then I'll go straight out to Quantico." She hurried up the rest of the stairs and stood in the doorway. Forgetting how well lit it was, she turned back to smile some reassurance at her partner, but as his features turned to stone and he ran up behind her, she realized her mistake. He took her arm gruffly and led her over to the elevator.

"David, what are you doing?" she whispered angrily, startled by his forcefulness, but his grip was tight enough to hold her without making a scene in front of half the 51st street precinct officers.

"Did he do that?" His voice was measured barely contained rage. His eyes glared with a fury Scully had never seen. Then in contrast, gentle hands held her chin and moved her head to the side. The red mark was clearly visible and you didn't have to be a forensic scientist to make out the distinctive finger marks. It reached from her temple at the corner of her right eye to the center of her cheek. "Did he do that?"

"David, it was an accident," she began, hearing the words and not believing they were coming from her.

David scoffed and shook his head in disgust. "I can't believe you Dana." He said, his hands clenching his hips and his eyes rolling heavenward.

"It has nothing to do with you David. Just drop it." She tried to step around him but he blocked her way.

"Dana it has everything to do with me." She looked at him and saw not the rage she was expecting but instead a tender expression. "I care about you a lot. And I'm not about to stand by while this guy comes in and hurts you."

"He's not just some guy David!"

"Just because you knew him a long time ago doesn't make it okay for him to hurt you." He replied quickly "I don't care if he's your brother! I won't stand by while anyone hurts you."

"Just leave it David, please." Her voice was low and weary. "It was an accident, it's never happened before and it never will again." She looked up to him with pleading eyes, urging him to drop it. Eventually he stepped aside and she slipped by him to hurry up the stairs to the murder scene on the second floor.

David leaned back against the wall and tried to unclench his fists but they were balled up too tightly. Blood coursed through his body too fast to allow him to calm down, and all he felt was the rage building higher and harder.

"Sorry Dana. I can't just leave it." He pushed off the wall and walked out to his car. A quick mental calculation told him she would be at Quantico for up to three hours. He glanced at his watch and smiled. "That should be enough time."