Back to Normal by Pam Gamble eksphyl@yahoo.com CLASSIFICATION: MSR, X SUMMARY: Don't you just love how when fanfic writers come up with a case that isn't an x-file, we just loan Mulder to VCS? RATING: R DEDICATION: To the MNL, the best thing by far about this show has been meeting you. XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX 4:29 pm Alexandria "Really, you should come with me. It'd give me a better feel for it." "No, honestly, my boyfriend is waiting for me inside. Just be back in about 20 minutes, okay?" "Sure." His smile, manner were charming. "Now, you keep my card, let me know if you want me to fix that gutter for you." "Thanks, really," she nodded and smiled politely. He wouldn't normally have taken a chance like that, but this one was a little too smart. Anyway, she reminded him of his ex-wife. Too smart for her own good. But couldn't fix a damn thing around the house. XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX 7:36 am Arlington This made number five. Scully looked at the two witnesses clustered near the police car. Must have found the body. They were staring, stonefaced, at each other, at nothing. She felt a twinge of sympathy. Most ordinary people were able to forget that sometimes reality happens right in front of you, not in sanitized video clips on the 6-o'clock news. She knew too well what it was like to be there before the police tape went up, before the blood was hosed away and the body parts collected and covered. She scanned the crowd for him. There, across the street. Defeat straining his posture, but there. She felt like a vulture. she thought to herself. But she hadn't seen him in almost a week. A week since the phone had roused him from a warm bed, leaving them both cold and alone. Abducted by VCS. After making a half-hearted attempt to work on an X-File, she had offered to back him up on the investigation. She didn't like the way he withdrew into himself when he took these cases. Communication was their new keyword, having decided they owed each other more than meaningful glances and unearthly sex. "Scully, I just don't think it's a good idea. I really need to work alone when I'm doing this. You know how I get." She sighed. That was exactly why she wanted to be there. "Besides, Scully, there are other pathologists at the Bureau." When the hell had he noticed that? But he'd protested and insisted and when the word 'smother' had begun to echo in her head, she'd finally given in. Fine. In her submission she'd thought that at least he would have her there when he came home at night, someone to talk to, help him let it go. Except that he never came home. She hadn't even seen him in the hallway at work in three days. She didn't know where he was sleeping, but it wasn't with her. Part of her wished for the normalcy of suspicion, another woman. But that was someone else's life, not theirs. Sadly it dawned on her that he probably wasn't sleeping at all. She'd rushed to the latest crime scene, wishing there was something she could do to stop all this. She wouldn't let herself go to him, afraid she wouldn't be able to control her emotions in public. But she *missed* him. Pressing a glove to her eye to absorb the dampness there, she noticed another man shaking his head at Mulder, a concerned hand on his shoulder. Saw him mouth the words 'Go home'. Yes, she thought. *Please* come home. His shoulders sagged as he nodded, walking away. Picking her way around the various agents still littering the sidewalk, she followed him at a distance. The crowd of macabre busy bodies allowed her some cover, but it was so unlike Mulder not to notice he was being followed. Not to notice *her*. He slipped into a diner, unseen and ignored by most. His pale face stood out against the garish colors of the diner. The wrinkled white shirt he wore only emphasized his own pallor. Haggard, and clearly exhausted, his face barely hovered over a cup of steaming coffee. She would have thought he was sleeping with his eyes open, except she didn't think he would allow himself that. Sliding quietly into the booth across from him, she lifted the glass salt shaker from its wire caddy. He finally looked up as she sprinkled a semi-circle of salt in front of her on the brown tabletop. His facial muscles were trying to question her actions, but didn't quite make it. "Well, you *look* like the Undead, so I thought I'd better not take any chances." Slow blinks, uncomprehending for a moment, then a weak smile. His hand raked through his hair, the largest movement he'd made since she came in. "Yeah, I guess I do look like hell." He toyed with the coffee stirrer, coloring slightly. She bit her lip, knowing how important it was to him to look his best, to appear professional. She had probably bought one too many suits over the past few years for the same reason. Not to impress him, but to put forth a unified front. To show the world they wanted to be taken seriously. Scully's hand slid across the table, resting on his forearm. "Actually, you look pretty good to me." A small smile. "I'm just sorry I haven't seen more of you lately." Her double entendre made its circuitous way to his brain, but he could offer nothing more than a weak apology. He was too tired to keep up any kind of professional facade. "I know, Scully, I'm sorry. I just, I just know I can figure this out. That I have all the clues, and I'm missing something." He sighed, heaving the weight of the world back onto his shoulders. "It's making me crazy, Scully." She leaned back in her seat, vinyl grumbling noisily at the adjustment. "That may not be far from the truth. Sleep deprivation can cause some serious side effects. Auditory and visual hallucinations, muscle spasms..." She glanced at his untouched mug. "Changes in appetite." Her intense whisper flew across the table. "When was the last time you ate anything?" He shook his head, but she knew he was already back inside the case, immersed in guilt and consumed by his belief that only he stood between life on earth and an old REM song. She rubbed his arm, trying to bring him back. "Mulder, there *are* other agents working on this case. They're using technology Bill Gates doesn't know exists yet." She twined her fingers with his, sliding her thumb over the hills and valleys of his knuckles. Her voice was low and deadly serious. "You are *not* alone in this, Mulder." Raising his head, he digested her words one at a time. His eyes seemed to really see her there for the first time. What was now a zig-zag pattern of salt crystals rubbed the pale skin at his wrist. "Oh, I know that. I do," he nodded, tugging her hand across the table, covering it with both of his. He coaxed the thought from its hiding place deep in his mind, where it had crouched, safe from his dysfunction, until it was ready to come out. "I haven't been alone for a long time." She didn't smile, didn't speak, just let him hold her hand. Security can be just as frightening as risk when you're not used to it. Watching his body tremble from exhaustion, she awkwardly reached to push the coffee mug away from him. "You're coming home with me. And you're going to sleep if I have to drug you." He didn't even argue, just slid out and up and headed for the door. She dropped a dollar bill on the table, and walked out into the chilly morning air, the noise of the diner replaced by the humming and honking of early rush hour traffic. He was waiting on the sidewalk by her car, slouched inside his leather jacket. Not one for being demonstrative in public, she still found herself wanting to crawl inside that jacket with him. To touch that precious face that had almost been stolen from her so many times. In the car, she actually found herself holding her breath to keep from submitting to the power even his scent held over her. It was only a ten-minute drive to her place, but she had felt his tension subside the minute she'd started the car. By the time she got home he was asleep. "I hate to do this, Mulder, but you have to wake up." She rubbed his face gently, jerking back when his eyes sprang open. "Wh.." She silently let him get his bearings, then nodded towards her apartment. He followed her inside, standing uncertainly while she phoned the Bureau. Not wanting to take a chance with the assholes in VCS, she left a message for Skinner that she and Mulder would be unreachable for the next three hours, and any information for him should be passed on to the rest of the team. Let them deal with it. He was in no condition to solve a crossword puzzle, much less a serial murder case. With only one resentful glance toward the phone as she unplugged it, Mulder acquiesced and let her lead him to the bedroom. Slacks, shoes and tie landed in a pricey lump at the foot of the bed, and he climbed under the sheets as she pulled the blinds. To his surprise, she lifted the sheets and climbed in beside him. A tear slid from his bloodshot eyes, as he realized for the first time that her eyes also held little evidence of sleep. Her breathing was slow and even already, the words tumbling out in an almost apologetic slur. "I can't sleep without you anymore." She seemed to wake up enough to feel foolish for admitting this, and looked over at him, struggling to keep her eyes open. "Isn't that silly?" But he just smiled, and pulled her next to him with a shake of his head. The slow, steady beat of his heart entranced her. Slowly she had come to trust him with these little parts of herself. The safety she found in him was not physical, but emotional. He tightened his hold on her, breathing in deeply as he fell into a place too dark and silent for dreams. After first watching the creases on his forehead relax, she followed a moment later. A flickering image of following him blindly into the darkness--and then she slept. **************************** "They're in here, Scully. I know they are!" "Dammit, Mulder. Wait a minute!" She stood by the entrance to the cave, hoping to pull him back to her before he went too far. He hesitated. "What?" When she didn't move, he loped back into her vision. "What?" he repeated, breathing heavily. "You can't just go charging in there. You don't know where you're going and you can't see a thing!" she hissed. "But I KNOW those women are in there! The killer could be too, for all we know. Come on!" "No, Mulder. Listen to me." She unrolled a sheaf of paper. "This is a map of the caverns from USGS." He stared, taking the paper from her. "And you're going to need these." A backpack seemed to materialize from nowhere. "Flashlight, food packets and water, matches." She touched his face so gently it almost hurt. "You can't just go running in there with nothing." Confused thoughts swarmed his brain. He nodded, moving back to the entrance to the cave. Reaching in the bag for the flashlight, he clicked it on and off a few times. "Scully, this thing doesn't work," he whined. "It's okay," she answered, stepping in front of him. And oddly enough, as dark as the world seemed around him, wherever she stepped there was light. "You'll be able to see if I'm with you." ***************************** She stood in the shower, hot water opening up cracks in her skin it would take a bottle of Keri to smooth over. She hated winter. She'd been awakened by Mulder's slight movements in the bed, his legs jerking as though he was running. She'd been ready to wake him up, when he'd smiled the most amazing smile and tightened his arms around her. Still asleep, his body had calmed, and he was muttering something like "My light, Scully. You're my light." Shaking her head, she'd nonetheless leaned in to kiss that beautiful smile. "Okay, Mulder, I'm your light," she'd whispered, then extricated herself from his arms. Reluctantly stepping out of the shower, she toweled off and pulled on her robe, intent on calling in to headquarters to check on the progress of the case. She was stopped in her tracks by Mulder sitting up on the bed. Continued in part 2 Back to Normal Part 2 "I'm sorry. Did I wake you up?" He shook his head. "No. No, and I'm the one who's sorry." She blinked, hesitantly making her way to the bed. "For what?" He stared down at the comforter, trying to string the words together in a way she'd understand. "I'm sorry for forgetting...for trying to do this...without you." He looked up, willing her to understand. She obviously didn't, but sat down before him on the bed. She was trying. They both were. "Profiling can be a very isoloating vocation. You can't take someone else into the killer's mind with you. I wouldn't want to. You can become so focused that you lose track of who you are, of what you are." Deep breath, then he looked up at her. "I let myself fall so deeply into this that I almost forgot you. Forgot how much I needed you. Professionally, I mean. You give me direction. You help me organize my thoughts so normal people can understand them." That got him the eyebrow. "I'm used to that with the X-files. I couldn't do that without you anymore, I told you that. But profiling, I just thought it was something that I couldn't let you be part of." She nodded, remembering the Mostow case. How he'd pushed her away, over and over again. He took her hands, pulling them into his lap. "I need you, Scully. The thing that I was missing? That I needed to solve this case?" He shrugged helplessly. "It was you." She felt the tears spring to her eyes and made no attempt to brush them away. This was just another little part of herself she would have to learn to trust him with. "I think I do have all the clues. I just needed to look at them with you." She stood, tilting her head to look down at him. He looked afraid, as though he was waiting for her to bolt. Reassuringly, she brushed the hair off his forehead. He nodded and she smiled. "Then let's get started, Agent Mulder." ******************* He met her in the living room, dressed and clean and rested. She had placed his briefcase on the coffee table, and was sorting through files and his own papers. "My god, Mulder. These women. They were mutilated. They were..." He dropped heavily onto the couch beside her. "I know." She picked up a piece of paper with his handwriting scrawled across the top. 'Male 35-45, anger, hatred, failure, no or low-paying job, mechanical...' She looked up. "Why the last one?" "Mechanical? They found traces of grease mixed in with some of the blood. Could be the guy works in a garage, or as some sort of repairman." Scully nodded. "That makes sense. He'd also be strong, skilled with his hands." She picked up another picture. "Do you have any ideas as to why he's doing this? Or why these women?" Mulder picked up another sheet with his writing on it, shaking his head. "I have lots of ideas, but nothing that gets me any closer to catching him." He pointed to a typed list of the victims' personal characteristics: addresses, occupations, ages, hobbies. Nothing seemed to mesh. "The victims are so random. I know if we could figure out how they're connected," the anguish came back to his eyes, "or they ARE totally random and we're looking for an unorganized psychopath. In which case we could be chasing our tails for years. Does the name Ted Bundy ring a bell?" "I'm guessing you already checked out the service stations they took their cars to?" Mulder nodded, a little less weary for being able to share this with her. "None of them lived near each other. None of the victims used the same gas station, or used the same garage for car repairs." He showed her a list of mechanics, and a map covered in red dots. "And none of the garages report any recent hires or fires during the time span of the murders." She nodded, impressed. He'd thought of everything she would have so far. A manila folder caught her eye. "Interviews with the families?" she asked, tapping the folder. "Yeah. Husbands, kids, neighbors. Initial set of interviews by the police at the front, mine are in the back. I've gone over them a million times Scully. I know there's something in there. It's so close I think it's gonna bite me in the ass. I just can't see it." She stood, heading for the bedroom, glasses perched on her head. "I'm going to go through these. You want to check in with Skinner?" He nodded. "Let me know if there's anything you don't understand." But she was already engrossed in the file, and his only answer was the click of the door. ********** "I think I found something, Mulder... Mulder?" Funny. She hadn't heard him leave. She walked around the room, looking for a note, something. NOT that this wasn't like him, but still... Just then the key turned in the lock, swinging open to reveal her partner carrying a large white bag. "Takeout," he offered, dropping the bag on the counter. Her stomach rumbled, and she noticed that it was dark outside. How long had she been in there? "It's 6:30. I went to the office for a litlle bit, checked in with VCS, and stopped for dinner on the way back." At her perplexed stare, he walked toward the phone, unpeeling the yellow post-it note from the receiver. "I take it you didn't get my note." She shook her head, still a little disoriented. "No, I just..." She glanced back at the bedroom door. "You've been reading the whole time?" He reached for her glasses, sliding them gently off and placing them on the counter by the bag. "Time for a break, Agent Scully." He propelled her by her shoulders to the kitchen table, rubbing them as she sank down into the chair. "Thanks, Mulder. What's for dinner?" "Chow mein, eggroll. A fortune cookie if you're a good girl." Her body melted beneath his hands, and she slumped down on the table, her head resting on her arms. He thought she'd gone to sleep, but after a minute or two she sat up, turning to look at him. "What did you find?" he asked, knowing there was something. "The victims' children. Two of them went to the same school." "Yes, but two didn't and one didn't have kids." "I know. But it could be a connection. Maybe a counselor, someone else in the community. Did you look for community centers, intramural sports?" "I suppose that's a possibility. Kind of a stretch, but it could have been something like that. Somewhere strangers could meet in a relatively safe environment." "Wasn't so safe after all," she muttered, and he looked up from where he had begun spooning the food onto plates. He knelt beside her, tugging on her hands. "It's still a good idea. We'll check it out together, okay?" She still looked frustrated. "Don't throw me any bones, Mulder." He started, backing away a little. "I wasn't, Scully. Do you really think I would compromise the integrity of an investigation just to keep from hurting your feelings?" She shook her head. "I'm sorry, Mulder. I just feel like I"m letting you down. You asked me to help you and I don't know if I can." "I know that feeling," he replied, and she read nothing but sadness in his eyes. "Mulder, you've never let me down," she insisted. "Maybe not in your eyes. But I've felt that I was. I think that's even worse." As her mind staggered through this new information, he returned to the counter. "You just need to give yourself time to process everything, Scully." He set the plate in front of her, dropping into the chair across from her. "Let's eat, then we'll talk about where to go from here." She sighed, relieved, and began to mechanically chew and swallow. After her initial hunger had been quenched, she let her mind wander to the case again. "I don't know, Mulder. I just keep trying to make a connection through the cars, but I can't find it." "Maybe that's because there's not a connection to make," he said softly. "Let it go for awhile, Dana." She didn't seem to hear him. "The grease and oil at the scene. It has to mean something. It was something the killer left, not something that was already there." Mulder wondered if this is what he was like when she tried to draw him out from the shadow of an active case. "Dana," he tried again, but she continued her conversation with a point somewhere over his right shoulder. "Estelle Carson's car wasn't even running though. So I keep thinking there must be a connection with repairs or maintenance" "Baby, please?" But even that got no reaction. He wondered if she'd shut up if he started fucking her on the kitchen table. "Except her son said she had decided it wasn't worth fixing. That she was just going to..." Her eyes widened. "Sell it." He nodded, as she seemed to have suddenly included him in her conversation. "So?" "How do people sell cars, Mulder?" "I don't know." He pushed his plate away. "They take them to the dealer and trade them in?" She nodded. The light of discovery bright in her blue eyes, letting him see what he could not before. "Or they put an ad in the newspaper." Simultaneously, they both jumped up from the table. "I'll call Mrs. Carson's son, you call the Post ad section. With any luck they won't make us get a warrant." Mulder emerged victorious a few moments later. "All five women recently placed classified ads in the paper. Four selling cars, one selling an RV. I'm guessing our guy went through the ads until a woman answered..." "Met them at home, asked to take a test drive, check the engine..." "Which explains the grease," Mulder chimed. "And when he had the woman far enough from home..." Scully was already dialing the office. Enlightening the rest of the team on this new direction in their search, Mulder began pacing her living room. "Now how do we nail him?" he asked as she hung up. "We can't investigate every man in three states who has answered a classified ad in the last week." "Run a decoy ad?" "Could take weeks for him to even get to it." "We could put it on the news. He may have made other meetings. If there was someone else there, or the woman wouldn't go with him...he likes them submissive, passive," she quoted from his profile. "Maybe someone will come forward." ********** Cara Rainier was flipping channels, bored with the latest rerun of Seinfeld, and decided to leave the news to drone in the background while she got ready for bed. It was the word 'murder' and 'car' in the same sentence that drew her in from the bathroom, toothbrush stilled, to hear the details of the current police bulletin on those terrible murders. Like most D.C. residents, she'd become almost numb to the reports, and never thought that they had anything to do with her. Never thought that the nice older man who came by to look at her used Accord last week could have been a killer. Never thought she would appreciate her mother's slightly paranoid advice. Never thought she'd be contacting the police as a material witness in a murder investigation. "Anyone who has seen this man or has information leading to his arrest should contact..." Fingering the plain white business card nervously, she picked up the phone. ********************* "They got a name. Team's on their way in." "You're going with them?" she asked, expecting the affirmative. "No. They got what they need from me." She had come to understand how he'd felt all those years in VCS. Used and used up. No wonder the X- Files had seemed so appealing. "Back to normal, huh?" she ventured. Only silence answered her. She turned to see his head bowed, resting on his clasped hands. "You still wanna get out of the damned car?" It took her a second. Obviously, that comment had hurt more than he'd let on at the time. She approached slowly, her hand landing on top of his head. Rubbing gently, her fingers slid down to the back of his neck. "No," she shook her head. His head turned up at the hint of humor in her voice, like a dying plant turning toward a rare beam of sunlight. She smiled down at him. "But I would like to drive, once in a while." He laughed silently, reaching around her waist to pull her closer. "You got a deal." Her body softened and she fell forward between his legs. He ran his hands over her back, down her thighs. "But you know, you've still got these tiny little feet..." THE END Send feedback and I'll name my first child after you: Dot Com:) eksphyl@yahoo.com