Disclaimers: The X-Files is the sole property of 10-13
Productions, 20th Century Fox and Chris Carter. No copyright infringement is
intended.
Paring:
Scully/Reyes
Content: Though not graphic in nature, this story
depicts loving f/f relationships. If you are under 18, or this is illegal in
your area, please exit.
Rating: Rated R for less than pristine language,
adult themes and violence.
Note: In this world, the Lone Gunman guys are
alive and well.
As always, thanks to L for her insight and
patience.
What She
Believes
Book Three:
Stranger at My Door
By Xan
THE RETURN
He walked down the chilly street
he’d walked so many times before. Hands shoved deep into his pockets, head
down. He moved so fast a neighbor’s can fell, spewing forth the weekly remains
of family meals. He stopped a moment and looked at it dully, then kept moving.
If he wasted time, they would get to
A young man approached, eyes
glistening from some unknown intoxicant. The two men did the street shuffle a
moment, trying to dance around each other. He shoved the man out of his way.
“Fuck you,” the young man growled.
“Someone beat you to it pal.” He reached her place, waiting a second to
make sure the drunk was what he pretended to be, before entering the inviting
warmth. “I hope you’re home,” he said, looking up at her dark window.
***
Scully stared at the man who sat
quietly in her living room. Head hooded, face bearded, hazel eyes as alert as a
cat’s: He was a stranger to her now. Yet only moments ago, she’d been in his
arms, embracing him before the candlelit window. Both had pulled away when they
heard the screech of a car’s tires. “Government plates-I’m not the only one
who’s paranoid,” Mulder joked.
The look of his baggy clothes
irritated her, and his beard…Scully wanted him to go into the bathroom and
shave it off. Instead she whispered, “It’s good to see you, Mulder. I don’t
know if you …” Scully stopped; she’d lost him to whatever had drawn his
panicked mind to her door.
“Look at this, Scully.” He thrust
as file into her hands.
No hello, no good-to-see-you.
“Marshall Hunter has unique
abilities the rest of us can only hope for-second sight. And everyone wants a
piece of him.” He held up a photo of a
young boy standing belligerently before the camera, pants hanging off his
narrow butt, bomber jacket shrouding his small frame. The kid looked like
Mulder, in dress, anyway. “Listen, Scully, we’ve seen it before, but this kid
is amazing.”
“Yeah, I’d say he’s pretty
amazing.” Scully scanned the file.
“Thrown out of five schools, arrested twice, and acquitted of murder- this kid isn’t
amazing, he’s a thug.”
“But he’s a brilliant thug, Scully.”
“Get to the point,
Mulder.”
“You seem a little on
edge. What’s wrong?”
“You disappear
without a word, and I’m left wondering if you’re dead on some dark road, then
you show up at my door with this story about a psychokinetic kid…” Scully
paused to catch her breath. “But thank you for noticing that I’m a little
on edge.”
“A guy goes out for a
pack of smokes, and the little woman throws a fit.”
“This isn’t funny,
Mulder. And I’m not your damned wife.”
“That’s not what’s
bothering you, Scully.” He crossed to
her, slid his arms around her waist. “Talk to me.”
How could she tell
him her life was days of unending turmoil, a firestorm wrapped in a hurricane?
A hurricane named Monica. Scully swore she wouldn’t fall in love again, for
that was a path which led to anger and pain beyond her control.
Scully looked up into
Mulder’s beseeching eyes, but could not tell him that she’d bared her soul to a
woman who had laughed in her face. Tell
the truth and get slapped….
He dropped his arms.
“They’re coming back for him, Scully-the same people who tried to grab
William.”
“That’s not fair,”
Scully said. She would not allow anyone, not even Mulder to use her son against
her. “Marshall and his family should be placed in protective custody. And you
know as well as I do that we cannot accomplish this effectively by working
outside the Bureau.”
‘Yeah, but it’s the Bureau that can’t be trusted, among
other special interest groups in the Gov-”
“Mulder, what do you
want me to do?”
“At least go with me
to see the kid.”
“He’s a child, not an
X-File, Mulder. If he were, then this would be a case for those who actually work on the X-Files.”
“Doggett doesn’t know
squat about the paranormal, and his partner-what’s her name? Ray-Rez…”
“Monica Reyes.”
Scully glared at him. “She saved your life once or twice.”
“And what a life it
is, Scully.” He got out of his chair and
stretched. “Grab your coat, Special Agent. We’re going hunting.”
***
“Daddy, can I go up on the roof?”
Marshall Hunter slipped on his coat, and grabbed a bag of bird seed.
Raymond Hunter held out his arms
for his only child. The boy came to him reluctantly. “I fed them before you
came home. Besides, it’s dark out.” He
let go of his son, crossed to the window and looked down on a fiery redhead
smoking a cigarette in the courtyard. The man had dogged him and his son for
months, but fear kept him from coming up.
“He’s still out there?”
“Yeah, but we’ve got something for
him, don’t we boy?” He touched
***
They descended the front steps of
Scully’s building, but Mulder stopped to pick up a discarded bouquet of exotic
flowers. He opened the attached card.
“Mulder, don’t,” Scully said. “How
do you know someone didn’t drop them by mistake?”
“‘Dana, let’s have dinner.’” Mulder whistled and held the card out of
Scully’s reach. “These are expensive, so it’s a safe bet you can order lobster
for dinner.”
“Is it signed?” she asked in a
voice so small he had to bend to catch the words. Please don’t let it be signed.
“No, but exactly how many paramours
do you have dropping bouquets in front of your building? Especially flowers you
can’t easily find in D.C.”
“They are beautiful.”
“So, what’s Jim-Joe-Bob like?”
“Jesus, Mulder.”
“Not who I had in mind, but can you
honestly say this guy is as magnificent as yours truly?” Mulder glanced at his watch.
“It’s not a he, Mulder.” There: she’d
said it to another living soul, beside her mother’s cat.
He coughed; then sputtered an
apology. “Scully…I…”
“And no, I don’t have pictures for your pornography collection.” She left him standing on the steps. When he
failed to move, she asked, “Do you have a car?”
“No, I-”
Scully fished for her keys. “That
figures, Mulder.”
***
The birds went crazy, beating their
wings against
He got up and went to see after his
father. Raymond lay asleep before the television. Marshall turned down the set,
and switched the channel, then he sat before the window: the pigeons had
circled, following his movements to the living room.
“Tell me who they are, guys.” Tree
rats, others called them, but they were the only friends he had. He studied his
grey and white companions, waiting for an answer. “Thought so.”
***
“So, tell me about the girlfriend,”
Mulder asked as they walked onto the grounds of the tenement where Marshall
Hunter lived. “We’ve got about what?” he glanced at
his watch, “Three, maybe four minutes before the kid makes us chase him down
the fire escape.”
“She is not my girlfriend.”
“Lover, main squeeze, roommate to
the Bureau-whatever,” Mulder laughed. Then he fell silent for a moment,
watching her intently. “I really want to know,” he added, his tone gentle.
“Something…happened between us, but
I do not have a relationship with this woman, nor do I desire one.”
“You sound like a certain politician
who doesn’t inhale, Scully.”
“Mulder, are you sure we’re at the
right address?” Scully said, ignoring the remark. “The windows are boarded up.”
“Not the top floor.”
“We’re going into a building filled
with squatters?” Scully removed her gun, held it up and snapped back the
safety. “Not a smart move.”
“Well, maybe if you’d brought the
box of wine like I told you…”
Scully sighed. “Let’s get this over
with.”
***
“Come on in.” Raymond Hunter
shifted aside, his tired eyes moving from Scully to Mulder. The tall man had
several calling cards splattered on the hood of his jacket, courtesy of
Mulder searched for the badge he no
longer owned, but relaxed when Scully presented hers. “We’re the second, Mr.
Hunter?” he asked.
“Yeah, it was a blonde girl. Don’t
remember her name though.” He didn’t
tell them about the redhead waiting in the shadows, wondering how his nose got
bloodied. Raymond sighed and led them into a well lit living room, where
Marshall Hunter sat watching a documentary.”
“That’s my favorite channel,”
Scully said, dropping down beside the boy. “What’s on?”
“It’s about the DNA structure of
fruit flies.”
“Fascinating,” Mulder said with a
crooked smile on his face.
“Not to the fruit flies. How would
you like to be experimented on?”
“Hey, bro, looks like we shop at
the same place.” Mulder held out a hand, but the boy ignored it.
“My son dresses like that so the
real gang bangers will leave him alone.”
Raymond Hunter’s gaze seem to ask, what’s your excuse.
“
The boy didn’t answer.
Scully walked over to the
kitchenette and pointed at the faucet.
“Do you mind if I have some water, Mr. Hunter?”
“No, go right ahead.” He glanced at his son. “Tell the lady about
the men.”
Scully ignored the glasses on the
counter and proceeded to search an opened cabinet.
“They come over here all the time.
They want me to do things for them,”
“What things?” Scully asked.
“See things-look at what folks are
doing.”
“He’s talking about remote viewing,
Mulder.”
Mulder crouched down near
“Yeah, I saw you coming up the stairs.”
“
Scully shot Mulder a look. How
could the boy possibly have heard them? She took in the kid’s neat appearance,
except for the baggy clothes. His hair was clipped short, and a hint of peach
fuzz graced his dark-brown skin. He can’t
be no more than…
“Thirteen.” Marshall flashed Scully
a flawless smile, startling her with his ability to catch her stray thoughts.
“You want me to do something for you, too, Agent Scully?”
“I’d like you to tell me about the
problems you’ve been having at school.”
“The cops can’t prove a thing,”
Raymond Hunter interrupted. “My son was no where near those boys when they fell
off that bridge. The police took him in for questioning. Talking, that’s all it
was.”
“Did you threaten the boys,
Marshall?” Scully left the glass of water on the counter.
“I usually mind my own business,
Agent Scully. But they were messing with me, so I told them how they were going
to die.”
Scully’s brow creased, but she
continued without commenting, “And the other incidents?”
“Well-”
“A boy’s gotta take up for himself.
Can’t be a punk out there,” Raymond said. “Then those men come here saying they
can give us both trouble if
“Did they tell you their names?”
Mulder asked.
“Tell me their what?” Raymond shook
his head. “Men like that don’t have names.”
Mulder smirked, recalling the same
words hurled at him by a pissed-off Skinner. He missed the grouch, though he’d
never admit it.
“We have to get you to a hotel
tonight,” Scully said. “It’s no longer safe for you and your son to stay here.”
“Make it one with cable!”
“Hush, boy. Tomorrow, we’ll go
tomorrow.” Raymond took Scully aside.
“I’m sure sorry I can’t recall that woman’s name.”
“Can you describe her?”
“She’s blonde and she’s just under
my shoulder in height.” He raised a hand
to his collar. “Name was Cora-something.”
“Covarrubias,”
***
“See? The kid is everything I
thought he’d be. He knew we were coming.”
Mulder raced down the steps ahead of Scully and bounded over to the car.
“No wonder the Consortium is salivating.”
“You didn’t seem too surprised when
Raymond mentioned Covarrubias. Is she your source, Mulder?”
“Yeah, but she has a different
agenda concerning the boy.”
“And what’s yours?”
He looked into Scully’s pale eyes
then looked away. How effective would she be while worrying about her son’s
safety? She didn’t know that safe places
existed only in one’s mind.
“One of the cabinet doors in the
kitchen was opened,” she said, used to his silences.
“So?”
“Mulder, did you happen to notice
the plethora of prescription drugs?”
“No, I left my binoculars home
today.”
“Mr. Hunter can’t be more than forty,
but he’s overmedicated even by American standards.
“We Americans have nothing on whatever
Covarrubias is sniffing,” Mulder said, his voice bruised and bitter like acid
dropped from the night skies. “The Consortium fucked her over, Scully, and now
she’s trying to get back into their good graces.”
“You don’t know that for certain,
Mulder.” She watched his eyes,
hazel-gold lit from street lamps. If he was right, then his betrayal was hers:
Covarrubias had been his confident, his informant-as far as Scully was
concerned, she had possibly been his lover. She looked away, gazing at the bright
ornaments winking like sparklers in the hellish heat. “Look, Mulder: Christmas in summer.”
“Why do you suppose no one bothered
to take them down?”
“I don’t know. Maybe they’re trying
to hide the camera and that microphone next to it.”
“Damn! You think that’s how the kid
knew?”
“I’m betting on it, Mulder. And the
equipment is Government issued.”
“Covarrubias is helping them.”
“What makes you say that?”
“She’s the visitor they didn’t complain about.”
***
BLONDE STRANGER
“Special Agent Reyes, may I have a
moment of your time?”
Monica was about to enter her car
when she saw the young woman’s slow approach. “Yes?” she answered, cautious of
being alone in a deserted parking lot.
“My name is Marita Covarrubias, and
I have a case I think you and Agent Doggett will find of great interest.” She passed a slim briefcase to Monica. “May I
buy you a drink?”
“Um… Sure. There’s a bar a few
blocks from here.”
“Excellent. Shall we take my car or
yours?”
“I prefer to walk.” Monica closed her car door. “What agency are
you with?”
The woman hesitated, casting her colorless
eyes on the lot’s exit ramp. “I was with the United Nations.”
“Was?”
“It’s a story that requires a
drink, Agent Reyes. Perhaps a few drinks.”
***
Scully leaned her head against the
door, stifling a yawn. “Who is it?” she asked, waving at Mulder to hide in the
closet.”
Mulder grabbed his sleeping gear
and slipped inside. He watched Scully through the slots, surprised by the
flustered look on her face.
“Monica?” Scully opened the door.
“It’s rather late.”
Monica nodded and took a seat near
the window, the same window where she’d seen Scully and Mulder embracing. The
room looked homey, probably warmed by the fireplace in winter. She spotted her
flowers in a vase on the table, and quickly looked away.
Scully sat down, her hands lost
beneath the long arms of her pajamas. “Monica…”
“I know about the boy.”
“What?” Scully was more than
surprised but relieved that this wasn’t a personal visit. “How do you know this?”
“Marita Covarrubias. And I know
about Mulder, too.” She gave the carpet a cursory glance.
“She told you?”
“I saw him…with you.”
Scully caught Monica’s furtive
glance at the window and blushed. “Oh.”
“But he’s not the reason I’m
here.” She leaned back in her chair and
gazed at Scully from beneath her long black lashes. “Mulder’s involved in something far bigger
that you can handle on your own, Dana.”
“Yes, what with aliens ready to
abscond with the boy.”
Monica laughed. “I didn’t say anything
to John yet.”
“I suppose that’s my job.” Scully fidgeted in her chair, a rare thing
for a person normally so composed. But she had a beautiful woman sitting across
from her, a woman who no longer wanted her. Yet, Monica seemed to bear her no
grudge. Or perhaps she just didn’t care anymore. “Can I get you anything?” was
all Scully could think to say.
“Marita and I had dinner, so thank
you, but I’m fine.”
Marita. It was a hard sound to Scully’s ears like a snake slithering over dry
leaves toward a nest that belonged to someone else. And Monica looked like a
woman back from a successful first date; face glowing, eyes sparkling. “Then I guess this is goodnight.” Scully touched one of the flowers; gave it to
Monica as a peace offering.
Monica held out her hand, and
Scully misinterpreting the gesture, gave it a firm shake. “No,” Monica said.
She took the red flower from Scully and kissed her cheek. “We should meet John
tomorrow morning. Goodnight, Dana.”
When Scully opened her eyes, Monica
was gone.
***
“She’s knows you’re here, Mulder.”
“How could she possibly know that?”
Scully tossed a large sneaker at
him.
“And she kissed you anyway. The
woman’s in l-o-v-e, Scully, and I’d say she’s jealous, too.”
“Is there something to be jealous of,
Mulder?”
Mulder ignored her question and
unrolled his sleeping bag. “I’ve got to get some sleep if I’m going to tail the
kid in the morning.
***
Tailing Marshall Hunter proved
exhausting for Mulder. The kid led him from rooftop to rooftop, from catwalk to
catwalk as if he knew Mulder was following. Mulder ran to the rooftop of yet
another building only to find that Marshall had out-foxed him, dropping easily
from the last rung of a rickety fire escape. Mulder leaned over, looking down
at the boy as he hit the ground. Seemingly from nowhere, stray dogs and cats
came into the alley, following in the boy’s wake.
“Amazing,” Mulder said, watching
the boy play with a big brute of a dog, “a little pied-piper of the
ghetto.” Mulder hefted one leg over the
side and climbed down the fire escape. When he reached bottom,
“You want half my sandwich?”
“What, the sandwich?”
“No man, the bag.”
“I’m not hungry anymore.”
“What other guys?” Mulder petted
one of
“One guy is named Ralston-he was
stupid enough to say it when he answered his cell phone. I call the other one Red
Man-big sucker, glassy eyes. Sometimes, they turn dark like oil’s in them.” Marshall pulled Mulder down by tugging on one
of his ears. “You had the same problem,” he said, peering into Mulder’s eyes.
“I got over it.”
The boy shook his head. “No, you
didn’t.” He released Mulder’s aching
ear. “You want to know where your partner’s baby is, but I can’t tell you. Only
my pops knows that, and he ain’t telling either.”
“Fair enough,” Mulder said,
reaching for the bottled water
“If you mean the blonde lady, she’s
not interested in that.”
“Are you kidding, after what you
just put me through?”
“Man, you’ve been outside the
Bureau too long-got soft.” Marshall took
off, leaving Mulder in the midst of three hungry canines.
***
“I’m early,” Scully said, loath to
enter Monica’s domain alone. The agent saw though her like glass-the cuts and
scrapes of her life so many fallen shards. “Mulder won’t be joining us. He
was…called away this morning.” She stood
there, not knowing what to do with her hands, or the tongue that seemed to trip
her every time she spoke to Monica.
“He went after Marita,” Monica said
without rancor. She leaned against the door frame, not inviting Scully in, but
simply watching her. “She’s trying to save him. That why she came to me.”
“Mulder doesn’t need saving.”
Scully moved inside. “His work is what keeps him alive.”
“And you?”
Scully backed up, bracing both
hands behind her on the table. Monica was so close, Scully thought the agent
was going to kiss her again.
Yet Monica hesitated, raked a hand
through her hair like an exasperated mother hanging onto her last ragged
nerve. “Marcus Kurtz tried to take
something from me…something private,” she said, referring to their case in
“Did I hurt you?”
“No, he did.”
Scully felt the table pressed
against her spine and the blood draining from her face. Cold, cold and heavy
was her body in a room so light and brilliant with color. “Did I…Did he-”
Monica shook her head. She moved
toward the table to grab her car keys, an action so sudden, that Scully
flinched. “I knew Mulder wouldn’t show,”
she said.” She withdrew her arm, careful
not to brush against Scully. “John will be here in an hour. I’ll go get us something
for breakfast.”
“Monica, I know this isn’t easy,
but I want us to find a way to work together-a way that’s comfortable for us
both.”
“What the hell.” Monica shrugged.
“The human mind is capable of the most amazing things.”
Scully felt her throat constrict
and she silently cursed the tears stinging her eyes. What answer did she have
for the wall Monica put between them; a wall Scully had asked for. “It’s
important to me that we have a good working relationship.”
Monica paused. “I’ll return with something
to eat…something to get us through this work
that’s so damn important.” Then she
left, closing the door behind her.
The wall grew higher, and Scully
shrank back to that lonely first-year cadet. Where’s Mulder when you need him, she wondered. He’s just another wall in my life.
***
The junkyard, overflowing with
rusted cars and abandoned bikes, swarmed with patrolmen. Mulder lingered on the
edge of the crowd watching two cops separate a group of dogs from their fallen
quarry. Then he moved in when he spotted a blonde woman at the forefront of
curious onlookers.
“Marita, Marita,” Mulder pressed
his mouth close to her ear. “You ratted on me, Covarrubias. Krycek would be
proud.”
She didn’t look back, but leaned against
him, pretending to be part of a couple.
“My sources tell me that Agent Reyes is not likely to betray Agent
Scully. Neither would Skinner.”
“What about Deputy Director Kersh?”
“I don’t know where he stands.”
“I do, because it smells bad when
he’s around.” He put his arms around her
waist, snuggling close. “Chop meat over there was on his way to the boy’s
house.”
“The Consortium will be
disappointed.”
“Does that mean you can’t ferret
your way back into the weasels’ good graces?”
Marita faced him, her eyes leached
of color and warmth. “I want to destroy them the same way those dogs destroyed
their henchman.”
Mulder glanced at what was left of
the man whose torn face torn resembled a bowl of stew. A paramedic lost his
lunch, while his partner backed away from the carnage. Mulder snorted and the
partner glared at him. Big sucker, he
though, recalling
“By taking away everything they
desire.” She turned, her gaze straying
to an old refrigerator lying on its side. “I’ll start with him.”
Mulder’s eyes followed, landing on
a half-hidden Marshall Hunter.
***
“That was good,” Scully said,
eating the last bite of her omelet. Stuffed with spinach and tomatoes, the eggs
were sinful; bathed in cream, whipped to ultimate perfection. She had expected
Monica to return with a bag of bagels or yogurt, not groceries; certainly not
to cook for her. “I’ll have to go on a diet after this.”
“You don’t need to diet.” A smile,
an expression of awe, not even a frown touched Monica’s face as she said the
words, but her eyes clouded like a misty ocean.
Scully searched for adequate
responses, but found none.
Monica rose in the heavy silence
and removed their empty plates. Scully found
her graceful movements a quality lacking in most people she knew. Self-assured
in work, in expressing her feelings, yet shy in giving compliments, Monica was
the treasure, the sanctuary Scully sought but had never found. Until now. She came behind her, pressed her chin on Monica’s
shoulder. “The omelet was delish-”
A knock on the door interrupted
Scully, dashing her tenuous resolve to put away the hurt between them.
“That must be John.” Monica turned
in Scully’s arms, soapy water running down her upraised hands. “Care to dry
them?”
Flustered, Scully moved away. “I’ll
get the door.”
***
Mulder, with Marita close behind
him, followed Marshall Hunter home. They watched as the boy raised his head to
the sky, waving his arms to a flock of birds flying overhead. The pigeons
soared and dipped, heavenly musicians obeying their maestro. One settled on
“Did you see that?” Mulder asked.
“Yes. It is exactly why I sough out
Monica Reyes.” Marita touched Mulder’s
arm, halting his stride. “It is how I knew you would go to Scully.”
“Why do I suddenly feel so
manipulated?”
“They are incomparable together,”
Marita said, ignoring his question. “With Monica…” She didn’t finish.
Something in the way she said Monica’s name
flagged a chilling premonition in Mulder’s mind. “You’re about to step in
something bad, Marita.”
She looked down and found nothing
barring her way.
***
Despite Scully angling the light
for Doggett to get a closer look at the corpse, he hung back in room, fingering
a scalpel and glaring at Mulder. She didn’t know how Mulder had managed to slip
past security, and she suspected Doggett wondered the same. Sighing, she turned
her attention away from the men and guided Monica’s hand to a spot on the
victim’s thigh. Monica flinched. Scully dropped her hand. “It’s a needle mark,”
she said. “The lab has yet to determine the contents of the syringe, but
whatever was in it stopped Agent Ralston’s heart.”
“What the hell was he doing out
there?” Doggett asked.
“Whose side was he on is a better
question.” Mulder walked past Doggett, moving dangerously close to the sharp
instrument.
“Do you think Marshall Hunter did
this?” Monica asked, backing away from Scully and Mulder.
“Are you saying a small boy got the
drop Ralston?” Mulder asked. He stepped behind Scully, raised her right arm and
brought it down against her left thigh. “Ralston enters the junkyard looking
for Marshall, but he stumbles. He tries to brace his fall, and then bam! Into
his leg it goes.”
Monica frowned. “You’re the one who
said the boy knew about Ralston.”
“If I killed everyone who spied on
me,” he paused to give Doggett a pointed look, “I’d be a mass murderer.” His
hold on Scully tightened.
Scully stepped out of his embrace.
“He was already dead when the dogs made a meal of him.”
“Exactly. No blood spray from the throat, or what used to be his throat.” Mulder drew a finger across his throat.
“Marita caught up with the kid before I got there; no way Marshall could have
done this, but I suspect he directed the dogs to have a noonday snack. They
were hungry-”
“Give me a break.” Doggett edged
closer, waving the scalpel at Mulder. “The kid set the dogs on this guy after he’s dead? Why?”
“
“I’ve heard enough of this
crap.” Doggett rubbed his scalp. “And by
the way, where is Covarrubias? I
don’t think she’s very good at keeping your sorry butt out of trouble.”
“I’m not the one who needs a
bodyguard, Agent Doggett,” Mulder replied, casting a sly look at Monica.
“I don’t need one either, pal.”
Doggett put down the scalpel. “Anytime you want-”
“This is not helping us.” Scully
stepped between them. “I suggest you two go elsewhere and cool off-let Monica
and I finish up here.”
Monica looked at her watch. “Sorry,
I’m late for an appointment.”
Date, Scully thought.
“Well, I have to catch up with my bodyguard.” Mulder clapped Doggett’s
shoulder before leaving.
***
Marita Covarrubias entered a dark
establishment, stopping before a figure shrouded in the shadows of the small
shop. She held out of photo, her hand trembling. The woman moved into the
light, rolling her wheelchair closer to Marita.
“Is this the one I seek?” the woman asked.
“Yes.” Marita moved back when one
of the wheels touched her leg. “Will you uphold our agreement?”
“Can you deliver her?”
“I can.”
The woman held the photo to the
light, studying its grainy texture. “Yes, I see her essence-the soul of the
woman who destroyed my life.”
Marita rolled her eyes, but
contained the sharp retort on her tongue. If the crone believed in
reincarnation, what did it matter as long as she honored their bargain?
“Promise me she will not be harmed in any way.”
“Harmed by me?” the woman asked. “I
won’t be the one to bring her harm.”
Marita left by the back door and
found Mulder leaning against a Dumpster in the alley. “You certainly like to
visit strange places,” he said. “Almadine’s Curiosities-what’s so curious about
it, Marita?”
“That’s my business.”
“Buying a present for the pet rat,
are we? Oh, that right,” Mulder smacked his forehead, “Krycek doesn’t like
presents.”
“Mr. Mulder, had I not told you of
this case, you would still be hiding under a-”
“The walls have ears, Marita. Let’s
go someplace where we can talk.”
“I have another appointment.”
“I don’t mind tagging along.”
“She would mind.”
“Maybe, maybe not, but Scully would
if you’re going to see who I think you are.”
***
“So, why did you choose Mulder?”
Monica asked, pushing a bowl of sugar towards Marita.
Marita pushed it away. “I take it
without.”
“Just like…”
“Scully?” Marita smiled. “Oh, I
know a great deal about her. For instance, I know it’s her son these men are
after.”
“Who are they?”
“They’re the same monsters who
experimented on me. So, I chose Mulder because he can control Scully, and
Scully can control him to a certain extent. And I chose you to keep it legal.”
“I suppose I should be flattered.”
“You should be. I don’t trust just
anyone.”
The cup of coffee grew cold in
Monica’s hands and she sat it down. “Was Mulder…were they lovers?”
Marita gave her a long, curious
look. “It’s not Mulder you’re interested in, is it?”
She took up her cup. “I’m
interested in you-in what you’re going to get out of this.” The cold brew hung in Monica’s throat, nearly
choking her.
“Revenge,” Marita answered, face
devoid of expression. “What do you want, Monica?”
Monica held herself, as if a draft
had entered the small café. I want Dana’s
arms around me. “I want to solve
this case.”
***
“What am I supposed to be looking
at?” Doggett, sitting up front beside Scully in her car, raised a pair of binoculars
to his narrowed eyes. “A guy taking down Christmas ornaments?”
“No.” Monica reached over the back
seat and moved the binoculars down a bit. “It’s what he’s holding in his hand.”
Her arm had inadvertently brushed
Scully’s shoulder. Scully moved closer, absorbing the warmth. Like red chilies,
Monica’s touch burned through the cotton Scully wore, heating her skin. “Excuse me?” she asked, missing Doggett’s
question.
“What are the tapes for?”
“I think the question is,” Scully
paused, releasing a long-held breath, “to whom is he delivering the tapes?” She
sounded like a school teacher, and chided herself when Doggett squirmed in his
seat. “Raymond Hunter is on disability-he suffered a fall at a construction
site two years ago and hasn’t worked since. Yet, he’s perfectly capable of
getting up on a ladder and manipulating delicate electronic equipment. You
don’t find that strange, Agent Doggett?”
“So he’s a cheat,” Doggett said.
“The labels on his medication
indicate that he’s taking powerful painkillers, as well as anti-depressants and
psychotropic drugs.”
“Again: So?”
“I need to get inside his apartment
again,” Scully answered, deliberately enunciating each word slowly. “I need
to know what’s really contained in those bottles.”
“I can’t get much a reading from
him.” Monica squeezed Scully’s shoulder.
She opened the door and got out. “But I will get the samples you need.”
“Monica, wait!” Scully waved her
over.
Monica leaned into Scully’s window.
“From what I can tell, Raymond Hunter is in great pain-psychic pain. And I’m a
Federal agent with a gun-one who knows how to use it. Therefore, your concern
is unwarranted, unless you have some other reason, Dana.”
Scully moved back, bitten, slapped.
“Ouch,” Doggett said. He leaned
back in his seat, shading his eyes with a weary hand.
Scully watched as Monica approached
the wary man. She retrieved her gun and got out, ready to follow.
“Let her go,” Doggett said.
Scully hesitated. In Doggett’s
piercing eyes, she saw more than his words conveyed.
***
Monica had helped Raymond up the
stairs and into his apartment. The man felt physical pain as well as a deep
bruising of the soul. He brought his lips to the cup of tea she’d made. “Just
like my mother’s-lots of lemon and sage.”
He turned his sad eyes on her. “What does a young woman like you know of
the old ways?”
“I know that something’s hurting
you, and it’s not just your body.”
“You should take care,” he said,
taking her hand. “The dude Marshall calls the Red Man, is searching for people
like us, people who can…feel things.”
“We can protect you.”
Raymond sighed. “Thank Agent Scully
for getting my boy back in school,” he said, though it seemed like Scully’s
gesture was more of a curse than salvation for his son. Raymond opened the
cabinet that held his medications. “Get what you come for,” he said, surprising
Monica. “She won’t be able to tell what’s in them anymore than I can.”
An answer to a question she hadn’t
asked; Monica was unnerved by Raymond’s steely glare. She snapped on latex
gloves and unfolded a napkin, then began to retrieve a pill from each of the
orange bottles.
***
“There’s more than fifteen.” Monica
watched Scully sort the pills, cataloging them for the lab technicians.
Scully’s graceful hand flew over the pad, entering generic names Monica was
unfamiliar with. How did it feel, she wondered, to have your body controlled by
so many drugs, mind floating in a mystical twilight until your life mercifully
ended? What was it all for, anyway if you decided not to enjoy your time on Earth,
take risks? “Will you have dinner with me tonight?”
“What? Oh.” Scully looked up at
Monica, eyes hidden behind the glare on her glasses. “I’m meeting Mulder, so-”
“That’s okay. I just thought…” What was she thinking-that Scully would want her
now that Mulder was back in her life? “Another time then.”
“Um…sure-perhaps we can do it
another time.” Scully went back to her pad.
Monica headed out the door.
***
“Make up with your girlfriend, yet?”
Mulder asked Scully. To her horror, he proceeded to wolf down a greasy pile of
home fries.
“Misinformation: that’s how rumors
get started, Mulder.”
“Then you don’t mind that she’s
meeting Marita for dinner?”
“Hopefully it’s at a better place
than this.” Scully shook her head. “No, I don’t mind,” she lied.
“You got my stash?”
“For christsakes, Mulder, will you
stop acting like this is a drug deal.” Another forkful of potatoes disappeared
into Mulder’s mouth and Scully cringed. “Tell the guys to be quick about it. I
have a feeling that whatever’s in these pills is the same substance I found in
Ralston’s corpse.”
“Hey! I’m eating here.”
“I thought it would take more than
that to put you off your feed.” Scully leaned forward. “Does it bother you that
I was involved with a woman?”
“Covarrubias hopped
species-actually went from a rat to a woman. So, no, it doesn’t bother me.” He
paused for a moment. “I thought you didn’t have a relationship with Reyes.”
“I can’t explain it without giving
you a blow by blow description.”
“Speaking from experience, if you
love this woman you’d better do something about it fast before you lose her.”
***
“It’s not the boy,” Monica said,
settling on the sofa in Marita’s hotel suite. “Raymond Hunter-he’s the
conduit.”
“How is he doing it?”
“I don’t know.” Monica placed a pillow in her lap, leaned
back, her hair touching crushed velvet. She sighed and rubbed her face.
“I wish I could offer you more,”
Marita said, pouring Monica another glass of wine. “Shall I order something
from room service?”
“They don’t have what I want.”
“What do you seek?” Marita sat
beside Monica in the luxurious suite. She held the forlorn agent’s hand,
wishing only to console, but as Monica opened her eyes…
“I told her,” Monica said. “I told
her about what happened in
“This may sound cold, but you have
to stop giving Dana what she thinks she wants…learn to manage her.”
“She’s not a woman to be managed.”
“Then what, love her?”
Monica gave her a bitter laugh.
“She won’t let me.”
“How long will you suffer?” Marita took the glass from Monica’s hand and
placed it on the low table. She brushed Monica’s cheek; soft and sweet. Then
she moved to the bedroom door. “Stay the
night.”
Monica drained the last of her
wine. She rose, ready to walk out the front door; escape to the safety of the
hallway. But, Marita stepped out of her shoes and removed her blouse, dropping
it casually to the floor.
Monica’s belly tightened and a
short breath escaped her lips, betraying the low itch. “Yellow cave-it’s what
Covarrubias means. Your name?” she said, feeling the fool. Of course the woman
knew her damn name, and most likely what it meant.
Marita came to her, touching her
hands to Monica’s flushed face. Her pale eyes held Monica’s with an intensity
that leapt between them like fire.
“Your name-it’s lovely. It’s
beautiful. It’s-”
The kiss wasn’t Dana’s. The heart
that beat so close to her own wasn’t Dana’s. But need reared its savage head;
hunger moved Monica into Marita’s arms. And she held the bouquet of wine on her
tongue with the indefinable taste that was Marita. She drank them both, losing
her senses under Marita’s touch, and her own inconsolable hunger.
***
“Here’s the key.” Scully dropped it into Doggett’s hand. Then
she eyed Marita, whose slight smile hinted of secret things…things she didn’t
want to know about. “You take second shift.”
“I thought Monica and I would go
over to Agent Ralston’s apartment.” Her
hand trailed possessively down Monica’s arm.
“That’s not going to happen.”
Scully dismissed Marita without so much as a second glance. “Those dogs didn’t
kill Ralston, and the Consortium knows it. If anyone’s going to his apartment,
it will be a Federal agent with the authority to do so.” She took a ragged breath. “Are you coming,
Monica?”
Monica glanced at Marita, her eyes
filled with something Scully could not discern.
“Where’s Mulder?” Marita asked.
Scully pulled her aside. “He’s with
a group who will help us determine the extent of what we’ve stepped into,”
Scully answered, referring to Mulder’s old gang, The Lone Gunman. Sully caught the look of suspicion on the
woman’s face and her back went up. “Oh, yes. Marita, just one thing: If you
hurt Monica, I won’t hesitate. I won’t stop. I won’t give up until I find you.”
“Why would I do such a thing? She’s
an extraordinary lover.” Marita leaned in closer, a tight smile on her
lips. “I can’t believe you let her go.”
***
When they were outside the lobby of
the hotel, Monica said, “Was it necessary to be so cold to her, Dana?”
“Marita’s a big girl.”
“I thought we all were.”
Scully stopped midway to the car.
“What is that supposed to mean?”
“If you would take the time to talk
to me, then maybe we could straighten out this mess.”
“You’re not an easy woman to reach,
Monica. You weren’t home last night and you turned off your cell phone. So,
exactly how the hell am I supposed to
talk to you?”
Monica reached for Scully’s hand.
“Don’t. I can smell her all over
you,” Scully said. “Just don’t…don’t touch me right now.”
Monica shook her head. “I hope
Ralston’s apartment is warm, because it’s damn cold in this parking lot.”
***
JAGGED DIVIDE
Raymond Hunter lifted his eyes from
the magazine he was reading long enough to contemplate this new agent assigned
to watch-or rather to jail him and his son. Doggett: The man’s name was all
wrong. Raymond thought it should be Wolfe from the sharp determination he saw
on the man’s face. He suspected Doggett was a keen animal, wild if rubbed the
wrong way. “There’s a bad man where they’re going.”
“Scully and Reyes can handle
themselves.” Doggett laid down his newspaper. “Why don’t you go watch TV with
your son?”
“No, there’s something I have to
take care of…John,” Raymond closed
his eyes, relaxed his shoulders and his breathing became shallow. Short way to
the grave, he thought. Then his eyes flew open, and he saw the agents enter the
elevator in the dead man’s building.
***
Scully held up her gun and signaled
Monica to cover her. She tried Ralston’s door, found it opened. Monica went in
first and Scully checked behind the door when a man sprang from the far side of
the dark living room. “We’re Federal
Agents! Drop your gun,” Scully yelled.
Instead, the man trained his gun on
Monica.
“You can’t get us both,” Scully
said. “Put down the gun.”
“You have no right to be here,” he
said, dropping the weapon to the floor.
“Identify yourself.” Monica moved closer, gun held in both hands.
“Identify yourself!”
The man cocked his head and went
into a crouch. He retrieved his gun and fired.
Scully fired back.
The force of the bullet drove him
through the window.
“Oh… God…” Monica collapsed, holding her side.
Scully dropped to the floor and
pushed Monica’s hands away. “I don’t see blood.” She pulled out her cell phone; then opened
Monica’s shirt. “Agent down,” she said, “I need an ambulance.” She gave the
operator the address; then hung up.
“Dana, it burns.”
Scully sat on the floor behind
Monica and held the agent’s head in her lap. “I think it grazed your
ribs.” She placed her hand in Monica’s.
“Squeeze,” she said, “Squeeze hard.” Please
don’t die on me.
***
Doggett settled back onto the sofa.
“Don’t get too comfortable,”
Raymond cautioned, “I may be fine, but there’s been trouble, John. You best go
see to your friends.”
“Trouble?” Doggett stared at Raymond and his son. “And how would you know this?”
“Doesn’t matter how I know. Call
Agent Scully and find out for yourself.”
“Daddy, I didn’t think any bad
thoughts this time.”
Raymond pulled
***
Scully led Monica to the bed. “My
prognosis is that you’ll live.”
“I want to go home,” Monica whined,
though she stretched out and let Scully remove the leather jeans that had become
too tight. “I want to burn these dirty clothes and take a shower.”
“At the same time? I’d like to see
that, but not in my apartment.”
“It would be quite a fete with
bruised ribs.” Monica propped herself up
on her elbows. “What was I going to say?”
“I have no idea, but why don’t you
get some sleep?”
“Sleep?” Monica started feeling groggy, and somewhat peaceful. “Alone?”
“Do you want me to call Marita?”
Scully dropped her gaze. “That was nasty, wasn’t it?”
“For Mulder, I’d say no. But for
you…” Monica flopped onto the pillows too tired to endure sitting up any
longer.
“It’s a good thing you’re loaded on
painkillers.”
Monica watched as two Scullys sit
on the same chair. When Scully gave her a sweet smile, her heart burst with
love. “Love you,” Monica said it, but the words came out sounding like gov woo.
She turned on the wrong side and the pain lanced into her like a hot
sword. “I slept with her.” Now that-an
admission she wished had never left her lips- was crystal clear.
The room grew quiet. Monica
continued to watch Scully and Scully sought refuge in studying her own nails.
And the silence continued until Scully could stand it no more. “I know,” she
said in a hushed voice. “It’s none of my business but tell me you’re not
falling in love with her.”
Monica hugged a pillow to her
chest; then she closed her eyes and slowly shook her head. “I’m tired of being
alone, Dana, or maybe tired of being with someone and not remembering it.”
“I remember.” Scully crossed to the
door with Monica’s clothes in her arms, “Marita is a very lucky woman.”
Monica lay there with eyes glazed. Damn painkillers. Her tongue was still
loose, she knew it. And everything that flowed from her mouth was bound to
offend Scully. She decided to keep it shut and spend the night alone.
“And speaking of painkillers,”
Scully said, “the lab turned up nothing, but Mulder…” the look on Monica’s face
at the mention of Mulder’s name stopped Scully cold. She said goodnight and
closed the door.
***
“And how is the delicious and always
lovely Agent Scully?” Frohike asked
Mulder.
“Agent Reyes got buzzed by a .38,
so Scully’s on babysitting duty.”
“Ah,” Frohike looked over his
glasses at Mulder. “The Lady Reyes is an equally delicious treat.”
“They’re out of your league, Frohike,
above your head. I’m not even sure you’re part of the same gene pool.”
“I adore you, too, Mulder.”
Mulder raised his arms. “Can you
feel the love?”
“I’m feeling something, and it
ain’t love.” Doggett loosen his tie and
settled into a chair in the crowded Gunman headquarters. “And just so you know,
Mulder, I don’t care for your flip tone about Monica. She’s more than a
partner, she’s my friend.
“Chill, man, I didn’t mean anything
by it.” Mulder grinned. “Anything on those pills yet, Byers?”
John Fitzgerald Byers-his name said
it all-stroked his beard and stared at Mulder with soulful puppy eyes. “Most of
it is a combination of mineral deposits and various proteins; all of unknown
origin. The rest…”
“I knew it!” Mulder crowded over
Byers’ shoulder. “The origin is alien.”
“Then I guess we know where it came
from.” Langly, the most paranoid of the
group coughed the word, bullshit under his breath.
“Do you know what any of this stuff
does?” asked Doggett.
“I have not a clue, gentlemen. Not
yet.”
“This leaves us with our asses
hanging out in the wind.” Doggett rose
and grabbed his coat. “I have to get back to the hotel and relieve
Covarrubias.”
“And Covarrubias might be what?”
Frohike asked.
“Another one that’s out of your
league,” Doggett answered. “Good night, fellas.”
“Aw.” Mulder patted Frohike’s
shoulder. “I still love you.”
“Just my luck,” Frohike groused.
“Mulder… Agent Doggett, please
wait.” Byers’ excitement rose, which in
his case, made him little more animated than comatose. “I added some of
Langly’s blood, and the-for lack of a better term-the alien DNA is mutating.”
“Which means?” Mulder asked.
“I could one day be a superhero?”
Langly made a fist and flexed his arm.
“I doubt it.” Byers gave Langly a grave look. “No human can
live with this fancy cocktail flowing through his veins.”
“I know one human who does.” Mulder
peered at the screen, wishing Scully was with them. “Frohike, I think we’ve
found your twin.”
“Whatever.” Yet Frohike stared at the screen, satisfied
with his reflection. “Just make sure you tell the glorious agents Scully and
Reyes, that Melvin Frohike says hello.”
***
Monica stirred. Her mouth was
pressed against something soft, something warm. She moved, and winced from the
pain it caused then she opened her eyes. Where
the hell am I? The room wasn’t
familiar, but the woman in the mirror was: Raccoon eyes glared at her and dark
lipstick, which had scurried south during night, stained her chin like
raspberry jam.
She turned at the sound of a soft sigh.
Sometime during the night, Scully had joined her. Damn, Monica thought, missed
out again. Scully lay on her side, curled in a dream, and her shoulder,
covered by the barest slip of a white cotton night shirt, revealed creamy skin
touch by…
“Oh, shit!” Monica scrambled off the bed, collapsing with
pain. She looked again, dreading what she’d seen. Yes, there it was: lipstick
stains decorating Scully’s shoulder and neck.
How was she going to get the stuff off without waking Scully?
Monica leaned a knee on the bed,
the pressure drawing another sigh from sleeping beauty. “Where…are you going?”
Scully’s slurred voice barely a whisper.
“Bathroom, I’m going to the
bathroom,” she said, as if the answer would buy her time.
“Let me help you.” Scully yawned.
“Whatever you have to do, you shouldn’t do it alone. You could hurt yourself.”
I’ll get hurt all
right, Monica thought, when you see that I molested you in your
sleep. Was there no end to the craziness? Why can’t we do things like normal people and deny it in the morning. She
fought her weak knees and finally made it to the bathroom.
After cleaning up-a considerably
painful job-Monica drew a bath for Scully.
Scrub your back?” She called out,
but Scully had passed again into a blissful sleep.
***
Marita searched Monica’s empty
apartment, careful to put everything back in its place. The bedroom closet was
the most revealing, shoes properly aligned, dresses hung…Dresses. “I doubt this
is yours.” Marita held up a green silk, the size much too small for a woman of
Monica’s stature, and the price tag still affixed. “Dana.” She caressed the
silk, bringing it to her cheek before hanging it again.
She looked down at the shoes and
found a black box filled with letters. “Almadine?” She spoke into her cell phone,
holding it away when the woman growled. “Yes, I know it’s late, but I think
I’ve found what you’re looking for.”
No answer, but Covarrubias heard
the old woman’s wheelchair creak. “I’ve found what you’re looking for,” she
repeated.
***
Despite the pain in her ribs,
Monica entered Scully’s kitchen in search of something good to prepare for the
woman who had saved her life. She was
disappointed: The exceedingly healthy Dr. Scully had stocked the place with
plain yogurt, bee pollen, bean sprouts and bottled water. No bacon. No eggs.
She found two croissants-there was hope for Scully yet.
“It’s not gourmet fare,” Scully
said. Her hair was damp, and her face was scrubbed of makeup. She looked like a
cloud-kissed cherub to Monica. “Sit down. I’ll take care of us.”
Monica took a stool and folded her
hands on the table like a school girl.
Scully got out the butter and put the croissants in the oven. Monica
couldn’t suppress a smile when Scully, raised on tiptoes, retrieved a jar of
dark jam from the cabinet. She imagined Scully as a child-the other children
taunting her with a game of keep-away.
Scully opened the jam, and Monica’s
hands flew to her lips. She thought of the mess she’d made on Scully’s neck and
shoulder last night. The woman probably thought she was insatiable; jumping in
bed with any female ready to tumble. But the fling with Marita meant nothing
more than the physical cravings of two women fed up with being lonely. Still lonely.
“Would you like coffee or tea?”
Scully asked, startling Monica with her soft voice.
You. “I’ll have tea, thank you.”
“Why so formal?”
This threw Monica. What else could
they be after suffering the strange occurrences in the not-a-relationship
relationship they had? “I just want to be considerate.” Yeah, I
sleep with another woman and tell you about it. That’s me: considerate.
“It’s not necessary.” Scully buttered the croissants and put a
little more jam on Monica’s. “Friends do this for each other.”
Monica sighed, wishing the pain in
her ribs would go straight to her aching heart; die right on Scully’s kitchen
floor. She placed the napkin in her lap and waited patiently for Scully to come
to the table.
Scully closed her eyes and bowed
her head for a moment before taking the first bite of her meal. Is she praying? Monica reached across the table and touched
her hand.
“I’m sorry, I’m just…You could have
died.”
“Not with the way you shoot.”
“Maybe next time I won’t be so
accurate.” Scully’s eyes darkened,
giving her pale skin the ethereal glow of an angel. “That’s why I’ve decided
that after this case, we will no longer work together. I’ll perform an autopsy
or give you advice…anything but field work.”
The speech, so carefully delivered,
lay at Monica’s feet like a coiled snake. “You’re pulling further away from
me.”
“No.”
“You’re protecting yourself.”
“Maybe I am.”
“Because you’re afraid to lose
another person you love.”
“Thank you, Dr. Jung, for that
stunningly simplistic analysis.” The
buzzer sounded, and Scully folded her napkin. “Now, I’m going to answer the
doorbell, and there’s nothing whatsoever Pavlovian about my decision.”
“Okay, I’ll just sit here and
contemplate the spikes in my palms.”
Monica held out her arms and gave Scully a smile she knew would annoy
her for the rest of the day.
***
Now they walked the balcony with
perfect balance, and cooed a warning: The Red Man was on his way.
***
“She’s resting.” Scully’s voice,
permafrost in the heated hallway, did not deter the stranger at her door.
“Will you give her these?” Marita
handed her a large bouquet of flowers.
“They’re lovely.” Monica entered, destroying Scully’s plan to
banish the viper from their midst.
Marita kissed Monica’s cheek and held
her delicately around the shoulders. Monica leaned into her, absorbing the
comfort.
Scully, her face flushed, tossed
the flowers on the sofa. “If you two would like a room, the nearest motel is
ten miles away.”
“Darling, is there anything I can
do for you?” Marita stroked Monica’s
chin, unconcerned with the angry observer. “Are you in much pain?”
“Somewhat.” Monica lowered her
gaze, black locks covering her burning face. She lifted her head and kissed
Marita back, determined not to be embarrassed by the way the woman felt in her
arms. If Scully truly wanted friendship, then she would have to learn to curb
her jealousy. “Dana, I think I’ll go home now. Thank you for breakfast.”
“Doctor Scully, is there anything I
should be especially careful of while Monica’s recovering?” Marita’s ingratiating smile did not touch her
cold eyes. She didn’t wait for Scully’s response, but instead, put Monica’s
jacket comfortably around her shoulders. “I’ll drive you home now.”
“Well,” Scully cleared her throat,
“you two kids have fun. And don’t do anything I wouldn’t dream of in my worst
nightmares.”
Marita said, “You have a wicked
sense of humor, Doctor Scully.”
“That’s not all I have, Marita.
Just remember what I told you.”
Monica stopped at the door,
wondering what Scully had whispered in Marita’s ear that day at the hotel. She
moved between the women and told Marita she’d join her later.
Scully’s rage died down after
Marita left. She expected Monica to
gloat, demand an end to her wavering back and forth. Yet, Monica dropped onto
the sofa, frustration clouding her face.
“I exercise my right as your friend
to protect you from that witch,” Scully said, closing the door behind her, “So
get used to it.”
***
SECOND SIGHT
“The man in Ralston’s apartment was
one Jeffery Crumb, also known as, Alan Davenport.” Doggett said.
“Of
“One and the same.” Doggett passed her the file. “He claims his
father was poisoning him-selling his so-called psychic gifts to Government
agents.”
“I would like to meet him,” Monica
said.
Scully bit her tongue. It wasn’t
her place to protect Monica’s every move.
“Good,” Doggett said, almost making
the mistake of checking with Scully first. “Let’s roll.”
***
“Rodney, I’m Agent Reyes.” She sat opposite the man, who was chained to
his chair.
His eyes glittered, their keen
observance belying the drugs coursing through his veins. “May I touch your
hand?” he asked.
“I’m sorry, but the guards were
very specific about any physical interaction between us.” Monica leaned
forward, watching the insane man’s fingers open and curl. She showed him a list
of drugs prescribed for Raymond Hunter. “Recognize this?”
“Please.” Rodney’s left hand
twitched. “It’s the only way I can tell.”
“Tell what?”
“If you’re one of them,” he said, staring at the ceiling.
“Rodney-”
He shook his head like a rabid dog.
“She missed…she missed my brother, but she won’t miss you.” He licked his
cracked lips, summoning enough moisture to go on. “They’ll control us all soon,
just like they’re going to make her… But they can’t open the boy’s mind. Daddy
won’t let them.”
“What boy?”
“Mar…
How does he know
about the boy? Monica kept her expression neutral.
“Is
“Yes.”
“Who are these men, Rodney?”
“Cedar…One of them is Jack Cedar.
He wants the baby.”
Monica looked over at the mirror,
mouthing “Federal Agent” to Doggett. Then turning back to Rodney, “What baby?”
she asked, prodding him to snap out of his drowsiness.
“Aaah, your mother loved you.” Rodney’s eyes
rolled back and his mouth went slack. He shook his head, waking from the drug’s
hold. “Couldn’t keep you because…because the power. She knew the power would…”
Monica got up, her chair scraping
the cement floor. The cords in her neck rippled like live wires in the cold
interrogation room. “What happened to my mother?”
Rodney closed his eyes. “A woman
will move heaven to save her baby’s life.”
***
“That’s enough. We’ve got the name
we need,” Doggett said, bracing against the one-way mirror as if he could
shatter it with his shoulder. “Get her out of there.”
“Wait,” Mulder said. “This guy, Cedar-I
know him.” He pulled out a crumpled packet, popping a seed into his mouth. “Let
her continue.”
“This damn well better be worth
it.” The veins in Doggett’s neck tensed.
He pressed his hands against the glass and glared at Rodney Crumb’s slack face.
“Monica doesn’t need to hear this shit.”
“He’s not talking about Monica.”
Mulder’s eyes closed tightly.
“My mother, please tell me what
happened,” Monica asked.
“Red.” Crumb’s gravelly voice came
from behind the glass. “Destroy…she will destroy you.”
“Red?” Monica reached over
and grabbed Crumb’s hand and a pulse of red-hot energy shot up her arm. Their
screams echoed through the room.
***
“Monica.” Doggett pressed a wet
towel to her forehead. When she came to, he turned on Mulder, “Get out-this is
private.”
Mulder left, grimacing when he
backed out. Doggett looked over his shoulder, waiting for the click of the
door. “What did Crumb do to you, Monica?”
Black hair plastered against white skin gave
her the appearance of a lost wraith. Her eyes, cold with Crumb’s vision,
shocked Doggett. “Stakeout…” she said while straining against the hand he’d
placed on her breastbone. “She’s going to kill me on a stakeout.”
“Who is?” he asked.
“Dana…Dana’s going to kill me.”
***
“What happened?” Scully asked
Doggett. She glanced at the closed door to Monica’s bedroom. She had not
emerged since Scully’s arrival over an hour ago.
“Rodney Crumb put some crazy vision
in her head.” Doggett rubbed his brow. “Monica won’t tell me, but I know it’s
about her birth-mother,” he lied.
“I didn’t know she was adopted.”
“Yeah, well it’s not something she
likes to talk about.”
Scully’s face went blank. “I
suppose most children wouldn’t.”
“No, no. Scully it’s not the same
as you and William.” Doggett’s hand was
poised over her shoulder. He dropped it quickly. “Anyway, it’s got her really
spooked. I’ve never seen her like this.”
“Should I go in?”
“Sorry, but she doesn’t want to see
you.”
Disappointed, she squared her
shoulders. “I guess I can understand her sentiments.”
“No, you can’t.”
“I need to know everything Crumb told her,” she began,
forcing her attention back to the case, “If Monica and I can get these men-”
“She doesn’t know anything.” He saw the effect from his second lie: Scully
was not convinced.
***
A GIFT FOR SCULLY
“What do you mean I missed?”
“You didn’t exactly miss: the
bullet grazed
“How did you get the autopsy
report?” Scully rifled through it,
unable to comprehend how she’d missed at such close range. “Wait. Don’t tell
me. The less I know about your contacts the better.”
“Special Agent Cedar; does it ring
a bell, Scully?”
“The same agent who claimed that he
was abducted by aliens?” Scully sighed. “Two years ago he took down Senator
Brogan’s killer. Found him in an abandoned warehouse, as I recall.”
“He saw the murder in his mind
moments before the killer struck, Scully. How do you suppose he did that?”
“It was never corroborated,
Mulder.”
“It’s another Government
hush-up.” Mulder raised both index
fingers, wiggling them like antennae. “Now our boy’s playing for the other
side.”
Scully rolled her eyes. “Regardless
of who he’s playing for, Mulder, we
have to head him off before he gets to Raymond Hunter and his son.”
“Covarrubias is watching them.”
“That gives me nothing in the way
of assurance. Let’s go.”
“Doggett doesn’t want us there. As
if that’s going to stop-”
“I don’t give a damn. If Monica
tries to join him…” Her gaze fell to the
floor, the blush furious upon her face. “Let’s go, Mulder.”
***
Marita reached over and grabbed
“To daddy-he’s not feeling well.”
He shook off her hand and went to his father’s door, closing it firmly behind
him.
“Don’t rattle that one,” Raymond
said. “She’s not FBI. I don’t know what she is really.”
“Daddy, you want some water?”
Raymond lay in sweat-soaked
clothes, and he pulled the covers over himself, overcome by a sudden chill.
“Come closer, boy.” He stroked
“Daddy, you’re scaring me.” His father’s hands were hot on his face.
“Ask her to take you down to the
lobby store.” Raymond smiled when the
boy shook his head. “She knows I can’t get up; been feeling bad all morning.
Besides, you’re the one they’re looking for.”
“How long should I keep her,
Daddy?”
“As long as it takes,” he said.
Then he kissed the top of his son’s head, frightening the boy even more.
***
“You take the side entrance,
Monica. I’ll cover the front,” Doggett said.
“I’m using channel four.” She turned on her radio; then left him standing
in the lobby.
“What the hell are you doing here,
Mulder?” Doggett bit his lip when he saw
Scully coming up behind Mulder.
“Why didn’t you inform me of your
plan, Agent Doggett?” Scully burned him
with a fierce glare. “Do you intend to cover the entire building by yourself?”
“I have my reasons.” His shoulders slumped a bit. “But now that
you’re here,” he handed her a radio and a pair of binoculars, “take the
elevator to the roof,” he said, steering her clear of Monica’s post at the side
entrance. “Give me a holler if you spot Cedar coming.”
“What about Mulder?”
“Mulder can go-Oh, I forgot you
were standing there.” Doggett shrugged,
not repentant at all. “Go upstairs and relieve Covarrubias.”
Mulder gave him a mock salute. “I’d
like to, but isn’t that Covarrubias heading into the store with
“Damn.”
“My thoughts exactly,
Doggett.” Mulder headed over to them.
“Agent Doggett, I’ll check on Mr.
Hunter. When Mulder returns, send him up to the roof.” Scully handed him back the equipment. “There
are too many people crowding around the elevators. I’ll take the freight at the
back.”
“Good. No!” Doggett smacked his forehead. He called out
to her again, but Scully had already taken off.
***
Raymond went to the window on swollen
legs. He felt his left knee buckle. He reached out, and the curtains came away
in his hands.
“Not now…Please don’t let this
happen now.” Heart palpitations nearly
drove him to the floor, but he rose to his feet. He looked through the blue
tinted window and saw the Red Man loping across the street. When the man turned
to check the traffic, Raymond saw a long, vicious scar throbbing on his neck.
He felt his own neck, the scar long faded. “I remember you,” he said, looking
down on the redhead.
Raymond remembered a long line of
people, who had waited on bridge in the dead of night. Hearing strange signals,
he’d called it. And he knew the man’s pain, that indescribable sensation of
being ripped apart when they tore into your body with their instruments. “It
won’t happen to little William. I won’t let it.”
Suddenly, the man stopped, looked
up. Raymond drew closer to the window. He peered into the man’s dull eyes.
“Yeah, I remember you…Cedar, just like the wood, hard bastard.” He waved at the man, challenging him to come
up.
***
“Cedar’s entering the building,
John.” Monica backed away from the side
entrance, and half hidden in the recess of the marble walls, she went unnoticed
by the tall redhead who brushed past her in a daze.
Cedar rounded a corner, and Monica
followed him to the freight elevator, keeping a hand tight on her gun. Striking
red hair caught her eyes, but it wasn’t Cedar’s.
Monica froze.
Scully raised her weapon, and
yelled for Cedar to put his hands up. He stumbled back, bumping into Monica.
Monica grabbed him around the neck. She put her gun to his head. They
struggled. He reached into his pocket, brought out a syringe and stabbed her in
the neck.
Scully got off a shot, wounding him
in the leg. Cedar fired back, his aim true, but the bullet went wild. His eyes
like saucers, he screamed. “No, Raymond! No!”
Every shot from his gun went haywire, careening over and around Scully
like bats in the sunlight.
Scully fired again. Cedar dropped
to the floor as a fire extinguisher exploded. She walked through the cloud of
smoke, nudging him with her foot. He didn’t move. Neither did Monica when
Scully held her.
Heart hammering in her chest,
Scully picked up Monica’s radio. “Agent down,” she said, too exhausted, too
frightened for Monica to speak any louder.
***
Mulder and Marita Covarrubias
pushed
“I’ll go, daddy!”
“He’s a good boy.” Eyes barely opened, he looked up at Marita.
“Agent Reyes doesn’t belong to you,” he said before passing out.
“What the hell did he mean by
that?” Mulder asked, bending to check Raymond’s pluse.
“He’s delirious.”
“No.” Mulder shook his head. “I
think he sees thing very clearly.”
***
Scully followed the grief-stricken
boy into the room, but only after she’d waited for the paramedics to come for
Monica. Work be damned; she felt her place was at Monica’s side, but the boy’s
panicky pleas caught her heart. “Daddy…they killed him. They killed my
daddy!” The boy had pulled her to the
elevator.
Now they were by Raymond’s side.
“It looks like a heart attack,”
Marita said. She leaned over them, but Scully gently pushed her back.
Scully felt his neck. No pulse. She
took his arm. His skin was cold. “Mulder, please get Covarrubias and Marshall
out of here.”
Mulder hesitated. “I think I should
stay. If Raymond regains consciousness, he can tell us-”
“No, Mulder. Please leave.”
Scully turned back to Raymond when
she felt his hand grip her arm. His mouth moved. She put her ear close to his
lips, and tears ran down her cheeks, wetting his cold face.
***
“Do you like spaghetti?” Scully asked,
moving aside for
“I can’t see things, anymore, Agent
Scully.”
“It was a gift,
“What did he show you?”
Despite her own pain, the chill
surrounding her heart, she wrapped her arms around the boy and held him close.
She closed her eyes and saw a baby- barely two-making his way to the woman he
called mama. His hair in red curls, his sweet face covered with chocolate…
Scully’s throat caught. Her eyes opened.
“He showed me my little boy,
Marshall.”
“You’ll be staying with my mother
until your aunt comes for you next week.”
“I don’t think I’m going to like
“Dana.” She sat across from the boy and gripped his
outstretched hand. “Well, you tell your aunt that you have family in D.C. and
you should be allowed to visit once in a while.”
His eyes misted over, but he
straightened in his chair and gripped Scully’s hand tighter. “But I don’t…not
anymore.”
“You have now.”
“Thank you, Agent-Dana.” His eyes
brightened, a spark of the old gift hitting him. “Agent Reyes isn’t dead… she
just needs to rest for a little while.”
Scully lowered her head. How could
she tell the boy, that clinically speaking, Monica was dead? Was it life when
the heart went on beating, but brain…She heard the scuff of the boy’s chair on
the floor. He was by her side in an instant, giving her the comfort she wish
she could give him. “I thought you lost your gift,
“Daddy said when it’s used to help
someone else, it never really goes away.”
Scully looked into
“She dreams about you, Dana.”
She hoped he was right.
***
THE DEPARTURE
He stood in the shadows near her
living room window. But this time, he’d come to her clean-shaven, a bouquet of
roses gripped awkwardly in his hands.
Scully put the flowers in a vase.
Then she held him and she thought of Monica’s roaring car, her despair at
seeing them hugging in the window. She broke off the embrace. “Mulder, you
shouldn’t have.”
“I didn’t, Scully. Read the card.”
She held it up in the weak light: Dana, this time I’ve sign my name. I love
you, Monica.
“Doggett found them in her
apartment,” he said. “Amazing how they held up.”
“Roses are tough, Mulder.”
“So is Monica.”
“Mulder, I’m a doctor. It isn’t
Monica lying in that hospital bed.”
Scully eluded his grasp, and crossed to the fireplace. Blue sparks rose
from the card as it folded in the flames.
“You’re wrong Dana, you’re wrong.”
She started at the sound of him
saying her first name, something he rarely did. He stood behind her and slipped
his arms around her waist. She leaned against him, calmed by his support.
“Where did Covarrubias crawl off to?”
Scully asked.
“I know what you’re thinking but-”
“No, you don’t. She got close to
Monica; then she walked out on her. She abandoned her, Mulder.”
“Some would say that’s what you’re
doing.”
“How dare you.”
“If she’s dead in your mind, then
what would you call it?” He held her
closer. “Scully, all I’m saying is that you shouldn’t give up on her.”
“You don’t how much it hurts,
Mulder.”
“Don’t I? Come one, you know that’s
not true.”
“Let’s not fight. Not, now.” Scully looked up and saw the hurt in his
eyes.
“I told
She nodded, but she didn’t think
anyone in the world was a doctor like her; experiencing day after day the
unexplained cases that fell at her feet, the heartless, puzzling days that had
become her life….
“Don’t become a stranger, Mulder. I
couldn’t bare it.”
He held her tighter, and they watched
the flames burn the last remnant of the life she could have made with Monica.
EPILOGUE
“You were supposed to protect her.”
The woman rolled forward in her wheelchair and slapped Marita’s face.
Marita didn’t flinch, which
surprised the elderly woman. Instead, her eyes grew cold and her lips tugged
into sour grin, as her hand tightened around the woman’s upraised hand. “Do
that again, and neither of us will get what we want.”
“What exactly do you want, Miss
Covarrubias?”
“Like you, Miss Ricardo, I want a
second chance.” Her smile faded. “Monica Reyes will live if I have to summon
the Devil himself.”