TITLE: Mirror Images (3/42) AUTHOR: Ana Vicente RATING: PG CLASSIFICATION: X KEYWORDS: None SUMMARY: Indicated on Mirror Images head page. SPOILERS: An itsy bitsy thing from the Pilot, nothing major. TIMELINE: Indicated on Mirror Images head page. DISCLAIMER: The X-Files trademark, concepts and characters are the property of Twentieth Century Fox Television, 1013 Production and Chris Carter. No infringement intended. ARCHIVE: Just let me know about it (before hand would be nice:)). FINISHED: August 6th 2000 APPROXIMATE SIZE: 9K (4 pages) FEEDBACK: Constructive criticism would be much appreciated, whether or not you liked it. To Thorn17@mailcity.com or alienmoon76@hotmail.com. All flames will be sent to Kaye to light her pipe. ICQ: #86468911 WEBPAGE: http://members.tripod.com/Thorn17 AUTHOR'S NOTES: Nope! ------- + ------- 3 Scully's fingertips were barely touching the stone railing as she walked slowly down the few steps that led from Craig's front door to the garden and to the path that connected the house with the main gate. The night was still warm; the heath accumulated by the earth during the day hadn't been completely dissipated yet. There was a soft scent in the air, originating from somewhere in the garden. Among the profusion of plants covering the grounds, there were apparently some night-bloomers. She glanced at her watch; it marked 10:13. It was hard to believe Alexis and her had arrived only some two hours before. She felt like she had spent the best part of the evening in that party. "My car is parked just around the corner," Tom told her. "There was no room inside when I arrived." He pushed the gate open; it slid silently on its hinges. "Why don't you wait here while I go and get it?" Scully watched him walking down the quiet street and disappear around the corner. And she was thinking that right now the cell phone inside her purse should start chirping and it would be Mulder's voice on the other side of the line telling her that he needed to see her immediately about some astonishing discovery he had just made. She took out the phone and stared at the green-lit display, then dropped it back into her purse. She looked at Craig's house, stepping back to the edge of the sidewalk to take it in in its full extension, The house, half-hidden by the numerous tree, was made of red brick and had dark wooden doors and window-frames. This kind of house, especially if it had a climber, had always reminded her of old dollhouses. Craig's house had a climber, but it didn't look at all like a dollhouse. It was too big, too cold, too something. It didn't seem built for people to live in. It was a display case house that couldn't aspire to be anything more. Her eyes drifted down the street. All the other houses with their perfect gardens and high walls looked as cold and as impersonal as Craig's. She wondered what was keeping Tom. The scream came unannounced. There was no strife building up to it; just one single scream piercing through the half-dreamt stillness of the evening, one single terrified scream carrying Tom's voice. Scully's instincts sprung into action. Responding to the scream, she ran down the street. A man came running out of the next street. She looked right into his eyes - She was still moving but she felt like she and the stranger had been frozen in time. She had seen the glow in his eyes many times before, in many other faces of many other evil demented human beings. And all those other faces seemed to have gathered in his. The moment passed. The man bolted across the street and disappeared into the shadows. She hurried on to help Tom, knowing that face would be branded in her mind forever. She found Tom sitting on the pavement, blood trickling down his face. He looked up at her as if he wasn't sure of whom she was. She placed her arm around his shoulder and helped him up. He staggered, leaning heavily against her. Scully made him lean on the hood of the car while she tried to find something in her purse that would help her stop the hemorrhage. "We have to go back to the house, we need to call an ambulance and the police," she said in a low and soothing voice, pressing a handkerchief against the slash on his cheek. "This needs to be sutured." She helped him walk the way back to the party. She knew his staggering was mostly from shock; he hadn't lost all that much blood yet. Frantically, she pulled the knob that made the doorbell ring. Alexis was the one to come to the door. "Oh, my God. What happened?" "He was attacked," Scully said. "Call 911." Like a wave, the news of what had happened to Tom spread through the party. People started gathering around the injured man. "Here, Tom, lie down," Craig said, leading him to a sofa. "I'll get something to clean that wound." Scully sat on the sofa beside Tom and removed the handkerchief, which was quickly getting soaked with blood. The wound was even deeper than she had been able to assess in the dimness of the street. She took the cotton wool and antiseptic Craig had fetched and carefully started cleaning the wound. Behind her, she could hear the others whispering among themselves, " ... a person can't even go out on the street anymore ... ", " ... it could've been worse ... ", " ... some people I know ... ", " ... you should spend some nights in the ER with me ... ", " ... and this used to be such a safe neighborhood." She didn't smile; she didn't shake her head at their naivety. No place was truly safe, no place had ever been, but she couldn't expect them to understand that. Alexis touched her shoulder. "The police and the medics are here." Scully looked up. Two men carrying a stretcher had just walked into the room. "It's okay," Tom muttered when he saw them, "I can walk." One of the paramedics examined the wound. "Looks like there's not much left for us to do." "Well, if you're going to get hurt," someone joked, "a party full of doctors is a pretty good place for it." As the paramedics were leading him away, Scully heard Tom saying, "I work at Greenville Memorial, you suppose you could take me there?" "Ms.Scully?" a voice called from behind her. She turned; a hefty handsome man with spiky blond hair was standing there holding out a badge. "I'm Detective Weller, I understand you were with the victim when he was attacked." "No, not exactly," she said. "I was out by the gate, waiting for Tom to get his car, when I heard him scream - " "Show me where the attack took place, I need to secure the crime scene," he said, leading her towards the exit. Another policeman, this one in uniform, was coming in. "Hey, Weller what're you doing here? I thought you were going home." Weller smiled friendly. "I was in the vicinity when the call came through." "Are you first officer on the scene?" the other man asked. "Yeah, I was just going to check the crime scene." The man grabbed a flashlight. "I'll go with you." Scully led them to where Tom's car was still parked. In the beam of the policeman's flashlight she could see the spots of nearly dry blood. "This is where I found him." "You didn't touch anything, right?" Weller asked. "I'm an FBI agent, Detective," she said. "I know how to proceed in a crime scene." He looked up with interest. "I spent a year training at Quantico a few years back. There was an Agent Dana Scully teaching Forensics there at that time. I remember 'coz she was reassigned or something just before I had my first class. Was that you?" She nodded. "That was a long time ago." "Not really, just some four or five years ago," he said, naturally not understanding what she had meant. "This place is clean," the other man said. "I don't suppose anyone saw the assailant?" "No such luck. Agent Scully was out by the gate when the attack took place, she didn't see anyone," Weller replied. "I never said that." Both men looked at her. "I didn't see the attack, but I saw a man come running out of here just after I heard Tom screaming." "Did you get a good look at him?" Weller asked. "Can you help an artist work up a composite?" "I'm sure I can; I could see his face clearly," she said. "I only saw it for a few moments but I remember it well." "I'm taking Agent Scully down to the station, Clarke," Weller told the other man. "I'll wait here for someone to come and dust the place," Clarke said. "Not that I expect them to find much," he added. END OF CHAPTER 3