From: Suzanne Schramm Date: Wed, 8 Mar 2000 19:22:48 -0800 (PST) Subject: xfc: Queen's Gambit (1 of 15) Source: xfc From: Suzanne Schramm ***** Title: Queen's Gambit Author: Suzanne Schramm E-mail: sister_suze@yahoo.com Rating: R for language, mild violence and sexual situations Classification: MSR, X, A Spoilers: Season 6 through "Drive". In this universe, nothing after "Drive" has taken place. Distribution: Gossamer, Spookys - all others please ask first. After spending over a year working on this, I'm getting separation anxiety - I just want to know where it is. Abbreviated Author Notes: Many, many thanks to Susanne, Sharon, Laney and M for their exceptional betas, occasional nudges and unwavering support. This story would never have been completed if it weren't for Susanne. Thank you. Thank you. Thank you. Disclaimer: Apologies and gratitude to Chris Carter and Ten-Thirteen whose characters I am flagrantly stealing for this story. I'm not getting paid for this at all. Unless, of course, you take pity on a poor author and send a little note in my direction. They can't prosecute me for e-mail I receive. Can they? Summary: Queen's Gambit: A chess strategy in which a player sacrifices key pieces in order to win. ***** Tuesday, September 22 Utah State Prison 11:58 p.m. Deputy Warden Jack Horsely hung up the phone and shook his head grimly at the men on the other side of the glass. The two technicians tightened the straps and checked the I.V. lines before leaving the room. On the gurney, Randy Collins looked at the fluorescent lights above him and smiled. It was time. And every single one of the bastards who put him there were about to pay. At midnight, as the plungers were set in motion, he called to the men observing him outside the room. "You tell them I haven't forgotten! They'll wish they were dead before I'm through with them!" A trail of spittle ran down his cheek as he lifted his head, fighting the heavy feeling that had begun in his extremities. "I'll destroy them all!" He laughed, but it was silent, his lungs already losing the capacity to draw air. ***** Wednesday, September 23 Outside the Utah State Prison 12:32 a.m. "... only the third prisoner to be executed in Utah since the reinstatement of the death penalty with Gary Gillmore in 1979. For reasons known only to himself, Randall Collins refused any appeals in his case, stating that justice would best be served by his death." Kimberly Sanchez turned and gestured at the Prison as the white van carrying Collins' body began its journey down the long driveway towards them. Her cameraman panned over for the shot. "And now, as Collins' body is carried away, we are left to wonder if justice is served. Perhaps the families of the girls slain by Collins in 1989 will find some peace. This is Kimberly Sanchez for KUTV." Kimberly gave her best pensive look as the camera panned back to her before calling out "Cut!" She shivered, the late night hour combined with this windy location were prohibitive to a longer, more insightful report. As Kim and the cameraman packed up their gear they were watched from a nearby darkened vehicle. Neither of them even spared a glance in that direction. Cars were parked all along the Frontage Road, news crews like theirs, death penalty protestors and the morbid rubberneckers who came just to watch the body be driven out. Kim's silent observer smiled as the van drove past. He was going to make history. It was time. ***** Wednesday, October 7 Outside A.D. Kersh's office 1:03 p.m. Mulder shifted uncomfortably in his seat, cursing again the hard wooden chairs of A.D. Kersh's waiting area. The rigid cool surface was putting his ass to sleep in much the same manner as the man behind that two inch thick door was likely to do, whenever he finally deigned to see them. Scully sat staring straight ahead and he wished he had her composure. She rarely fidgeted; in fact, it seemed to him the greater the pressure, the more stony she became. Not for the first time, he wondered what they were being called in for now. He had a moment of queasiness when he considered one reason, but he refused to believe Kersh could know. A month ago, while on another scut assignment in Morgantown, West Virginia, the pressure had finally blinded him. It had been right after that horrific case in Nevada and he was still smarting from Kersh's acidic "You could always quit." After a long day of dead ends and insipid interviews he had gone for a jog. Returning to the hotel, Mulder overheard a couple of agents smoking in the parking lot discussing him and his erst-while assignment to the X-files. They had mocked him, mocked the work, and snickered that he was even more of a joke now. Neither one had the decency to even look embarrassed when they saw him walk past. If the world was full of people like that, the alien colonists were more than welcome to it. He stood, sweating and swearing, in the hallway as he tried unsuccessfully to get his key card to open the door. Scully's door across the hall opened and she peered quizzically at him. "Mulder, what are you doing?" "Trying to get in my room," he muttered, turning his back on her and sliding the card through again. "Here," she walked over and touched his wrist. "Sometimes they can be stubborn." "Goddammit, I can do it." He pulled the card away, holding it close to him, and glared down at her. She stepped back, surprised at his animosity, and turned back towards her room without another word. Mulder continued to swipe the card until, finally, the light glowed green and he was able to enter his room. After slamming the door he stood with hands on his hips, fuming for a couple of minutes. His level of frustration was at an all-time high. The X-Files were gone, handed over to Spender whose self-indulgent smirk made Mulder want to burn the office down a second time. Diana could do little to help him, but at least she was trying. And then there was Scully. Her refusal to believe in what had truly happened to her in the Antarctic, in what had killed those men in Phoenix, rankled him deeply. She expected his trust, but was unwilling to trust him if it didn't coincide with her science. He recognized that her overture in the hallway had been a tentative step towards a truce between them, but he was enjoying being angry with her too much to accept an apology now. Tonight, really, if an apology was due, he knew it should come from him. He just hoped she wasn't holding her breath. At the rapid-fire knock on his door he sighed heavily, taking one last moment to enjoy seething. "What?" he barked a few inches from the door. "Mulder, open the door." Scully's voice was equally brusque. He did so and found her holding a pizza box out in front of her. "Here, take it. I ordered in, but you'd disappeared. If it's cold, I apologize. I had no idea how long you were going to be." Mulder blinked, her irritation wasn't what he had wanted. He wanted her to be understanding, maybe even humor his black mood. Weren't women supposed to be the nurturers? Where was the comfort in a cold pizza and a pissed-off partner? Numbly he took the box and she turned, ready to go back to her room. "Wait. Scully." She half-turned and waited, not looking at him. "Did you eat already?" he asked, knowing that she must have, but needing to say something to stall her. "Yes." She turned again, back towards her room, and Mulder felt a wave of loneliness flood through him. "I'm sorry." It was spoken so softly he barely heard it himself, but she stopped and faced him anyway. A few seconds passed as they regarded each other warily. Her slow blink told him she knew exactly what was really bothering him. "Mulder," her gaze dropped to the carpet. Scully's mouth opened and closed a few times as she tried to decide what she wanted to say. Then she sighed and looked him straight in the eye. "You're not the only injured party here. I hate this just as much as you do. I want the X-Files back just as badly. Don't denigrate me by assuming that the loss means nothing to me. I've paid for those files every bit as much as you have." Unable to form a reply he simply nodded at her and stepped back, opening his door wider in silent invitation. Come in, he thought. Talk to me. Please. When she hesitated it surprised him. He didn't really want to fight, not tonight, couldn't she sense that? Well, okay, he had earlier. But he didn't want to *now*. He was trying to make up for being snippy. Scully tilted her head, assessing his mood, before apparently finding a reason to humor him after all. So they hadn't fought. She came inside and watched him gamely choke down two pieces of cold pizza while the tv droned the 11:00 news in the background. He desperately wanted a shower, but he knew she'd leave if he went to take one and he even more desperately did not want to be alone. Mulder sat there, chewing mechanically and contemplating what had become of his life. It had been a year since he had seen Samantha, only to find her afraid of him and the memories he brought back. Samantha's rejection still tore at his heart. He had lost his faith only to have it returned to him on a cold Antarctic plain. Now the means to prove it were gone. Some days it seemed all he had left was Scully, but she was keeping her distance from him lately. Her promise to stay with him and keep working had come before the official loss of the X-Files. He wondered if she regretted it, if she now wanted a way out. He wanted to ask her, but couldn't find the words. Why? Why didn't they talk? Why did they never open up to each other on the things that really mattered? The bitterness he had felt earlier dissipated completely in the midst of his musings, leaving behind a gnawing loneliness so intense it actually hurt. The ache increased when Scully got up, moving towards the door to go back to her room. Almost as a reflex, Mulder stood and followed her to the door. Her shoulders twitched, aware that he was behind her when she reached the door. She got it about a quarter of the way open before he stepped closer, shutting it firmly with his left hand while the other hand came up to trap her between him and the door. "Don't go yet," he whispered, hating how needy his voice sounded. When she shuddered a trill of power ran through him, replacing the loneliness with something even darker. Goddamn her. She knew. She had always known. The connection between them, always so strictly platonic, sometimes crackled with an unspoken tension. A sexual tension. It was there now, the awareness arcing between them, driving his pulse faster. "Mulder, what are you doing?" Her voice was low, mild even, and he wondered for the briefest of moments if he was wrong. But no, she was too tense, her shoulders drawn up defensively. If she didn't feel the heat between them she would have just tried to open the door again. She was waiting. Waiting to see how far he'd push it. "I don't want you to leave yet. Can't you stay?" he asked. She didn't answer, instead leaning her head forward against the door. That gesture spoke far more to him than words could have. "Turn around, Scully." he whispered. She shook her head, an unsteady wobble against the door. "I should go." "We need to talk, Scully. I'm tired of all the games." "Mulder, you're the one playing games here. Let go of the door." "Turn around and talk to me first." Scully had taken a deep breath, the rise and fall of her shoulders inflaming him even further. She turned to face him, her eyes wide and questioning. Mulder continued to hold the door shut with his left hand while his right hand came down to caress her cheek and tilt her chin up. His thumb brushed over her lower lip and her eyes half-closed. "Mul..." He bent to kiss her, the rest of his name was lost between them. With a start, Mulder came back to the present as Kersh's smug assistant informed them they could go in now. ***** End 1/15 ===== ******** "If I sit long enough it just comes to me." Phillip Padgett, 'Milagro' Is your mouse flabby and listless? Come work it out here http://alanna.net/sue ******** From: Suzanne Schramm ***** Queen's Gambit 2/15 See disclaimer, etc. in part 1 ***** Wednesday, October 7 A.D. Kersh's Office 1:38 p.m. Scully fought the urge to shift her weight from leg to leg. After entering Kersh's office she and Mulder had been left standing while Kersh shuffled through papers on his desk, for all intents and purposes ignoring them. Kersh and his little power trips were beginning to wear on her nerves. Kersh gave a sigh and looked up at them at last. "Agents, I'm not really pleased to be giving you this assignment, but there wasn't much I could do about it. It seems, Agent Mulder, that you still have a few friends left in the world." Kersh's fingers drummed pointedly on one of the files on his desk for a moment before he let the silence grow in the office again. Mulder said nothing, immensely relieved that they didn't appear to be headed for a reprimand. He was beyond curious to know what assignment Kersh hated to give them, but he refused to give the man the satisfaction of knowing that. Finally, when the silence was on the verge of becoming ridiculous, Kersh cleared his throat and picked the file up, tapping its edge against the top of his desk. Neither agent spoke, waiting to see what would happen. "Do you remember Randall Collins?" Kersh's dark eyes bored into Mulder's. Mulder's eyebrows drew together as he thought. Randall Collins, Randall Collins. The name was familiar. "He was executed earlier this month in Utah." Kersh prompted. Randy Collins. A real piece of work. He had tortured and killed five girls, each time leaving notes for their families to taunt them. "It would seem there is a copycat killer. Sherriff Huitt requested you specifically. Apparently you were instrumental in catching Collins." Kersh tossed the file to the edge of the desk, to Scully's eyes the effect was similar to throwing down a gauntlet. "You do well on this Mulder, the VCS may take you back. I understand you're not satisfied in your current assignments." Kersh spoke, tilting his head back to judge Mulder's reaction. Beside her, Mulder stiffened. The VCS. He had been lucky to get out of there halfway sane the first time, and Kersh knew it. Had Mulder wronged him in a previous life? What was his problem? Mulder lifted the offending file off Kersh's desk. "Well then, I'll certainly give it my best, sir. I hear A.D. Logan is a great guy to work for." Mulder turned and left the office before Kersh could change his mind. Scully was about to follow when Kersh spoke again. "I understand Mulder takes these cases personally. I hope to see him return to D.C. unscathed." His eyes were nearly twinkling, the asshole. "Thank you for your concern, sir." It was an effort not to let the last word drip in sarcasm, however ironically it was meant. Out in the hall Mulder was leaning against the wall, leafing through the file. When Scully stopped in front of him Mulder shut the file and handed it to her. The corners of his mouth twitched in a smile. "Call me crazy, Scully, but this could qualify as an X-File." "Mulder, you are crazy. Kersh wouldn't give you an X-File." "He just did." Mulder looked down to the file she now held. Scully opened the folder and scanned the contents. One week after Collins' execution Leslie Parker's husband had reported her missing. She was found three days later, naked on a Main Street bench. She had been strangled, the post-mortem establishing that death had most likely occurred only a few hours before she had been found. The next day Anne Wyman disappeared, only to be found dead three days later in the Park City High School parking lot, also naked and strangled. In both instances a note had been left with the body in what appeared to be Collins' handwriting. "Mulder, isn't it more likely that someone is just trying to make it look like this is Collins?" she asked without looking up. "To what end?" Scully said nothing for a moment, her eyes scanning the pages in her hands. The original investigating officer from ten years earlier, a Sheriff Huitt, had requested Mulder yesterday, the day after his wife disappeared. "Did Collins have any family, friends, fanatics?" "Collins was your typical 'he was always so quiet, kept to himself, I can't believe he'd hurt anyone' killer. He didn't have many friends. As for family, he was raised by a single mother who died two years before he began his spree." Their eyes met and Mulder lifted his eyebrows. "C'mon Scully. You're missing the connection between the victims here." "There's a connection?" Scully looked back down at the file. "Leslie Parker was the DA's wife. Anne Wyman was the daughter of Penny Wyman, Collins' ex-boss who phoned in a tip on him. And now Huitt's wife is missing." Scully's lips drew together into a tight line as she considered this. "So you're saying he's getting revenge on the people who put him away?" "No, that's what you're saying. I'm just saying the victims all have a connection to Collins." Mulder smiled, enjoying the reversal. "Although the notes left behind certainly seem to point to Collins as a suspect." "And you think he's now taken Mrs. Huitt?" Mulder's eyes darkened. "Her disappearance would certainly seem to have a connection. Look, I'm going to call Huitt, see if there's anything new. You call the airline and see how soon we can get there." Scully sighed, trying to ignore the fatigue she suddenly felt. They hadn't been out in the field together since... "You okay?" Mulder asked when she closed her eyes. "Fine," she opened her eyes and looked up at him. "Let's go make those calls." ***** Scully had spent the time before take-off reviewing again the file on Collins that Kersh had given them. Once they were airborne she found a blanket and promptly fallen asleep. Mulder only half-watched the stars on the horizon out his window, his thoughts were directed inward, lost in the remembrance of the Collins case. He had been new to the VCS, still trying to prove himself to Patterson, when he had been sent to Utah. The Salt Lake field office had been dealing with a rash of religious zealots at the time so Mulder had actually been sent out in the field. Was that really only nine years ago? It seemed more like ninety. He felt a brush against his left shoulder and looked down to see that Scully had shifted, coming to rest against him in her sleep. The blanket had slipped to her lap but Mulder didn't dare lift it to cover her. A gesture he once would have performed without thought now gave him pause. Morgantown had changed them. Since that night she sat just a little further apart from him than she used to. If he happened to brush against her she would stiffen. She didn't make eye contact with him for longer than a few seconds. They had never discussed that night. Like so many other things affecting Scully personally - her sister's death, her cancer, her abduction, Emily - it had become a taboo subject. What was he thinking? he berated himself. Barring her exit from his hotel room and kissing her? Mulder couldn't bear to think that what should have brought them closer turned out to be an awkward moment they never mentioned. The dynamic of their relationship had changed. Professionally, the trust was still there, the respect was still there, but an intangible something was not. They had never really spent much time together outside of work but Mulder had always sensed that Scully cared for him as more than a colleague. Now - now he felt as if he had come too close and she was trying to keep her distance. How did we get to this point? he wondered. When they lost the X-files Scully had asked him to consider whether his heart was still in it anymore. She admitted that hers wasn't. Although she relented and came back, part of him felt as though she had betrayed him. Since then he had felt he needed more from her. More of a commitment, more of a promise that this quest meant just as much to her. Last month he tried to get that reassurance from her, but went about it the wrong way. And now? Now he wasn't sure how to approach her. Wasn't even sure how to define their relationship. Certainly not lovers. Not really even friends. More like long-term acquaintances who just put up with one another. It would have been easier if he had drawn the line at a simple kiss. He had been both exhilarated and frightened when he kissed her, certain that she was going to push him away and leave. But she hadn't. After a moment of hesitation she had kissed him back, actually putting her arms around him, and nibbled at his upper lip. Mulder lost it then, pulling her away from the door and over to the bed. On the bed their kisses had grown more desperate as they tugged at one another's clothing. Mulder glanced down at Scully, asleep against his shoulder. Her lips were half-parted and he swallowed hard at the memory of them. Once they were both naked he had kissed her slowly, ignoring the nips and bites she tried to distract him with. He had memorized the hard ridge of her teeth, the velvet of her tongue, the slick recesses of her cheeks. A month later the sensation of kissing Scully continued to haunt him. Mulder raised his hand and then let it drop, still not daring to touch her. His mind wandered back to that night again. Two hours later she had crept out of the bed. Mulder knew the instant her warmth was gone that she had been awake the whole time, not asleep in his arms at all. She had been waiting to leave and the realization stunned him. It was worse, having her sneak out in the middle of the night. Thousands of times worse than the lonely ache inside him when she had tried to leave the room earlier that night. A recollection of every reason this should never have happened ran through his head, but he blindly decided to try and get her to stay. "Scully?" he sat up, reaching for the light. She looked nothing like the Scully he'd known all these years, standing half dressed in his hotel room, her hair wild and her eyes squinting against the light. "You're leaving." Mulder had meant it as a question but it came out as flat accusation. Scully stood, her shirt clutched modestly to her chest, and furrowed her brow as if she were deep in thought. "Mulder, why don't we talk about this later, when we can have some perspective on it?" "Perspective?" Mulder sat back against the headboard, flinching at the chilly wood. "After the last few hours..., no, after the last six years, you're going to stand there and tell me we need perspective?" Mulder rose from the bed, not caring that he was naked. "Jesus, Scully, do you think we're being hasty here?" "Meeting someone in a bar is hasty, Mulder. This," Scully waved one arm to indicate the rumpled bed behind him. "This was imprudent." She would have been better off slapping him. Without thinking, he replied in kind. "I get the feeling this isn't your first one night stand, Scully." Her eyes narrowed and she tugged her shirt on, bending down to scoop up her shoes and assorted undergarments without even looking at him. A little harder, Scully, he had thought, and that could be considered slamming the door. A month - and he still hadn't figured out how to bridge the distance between them. Maybe now that they were away from the office, back in the field, they'd get a chance to open that door. Scully startled against him, her eyes blinking rapidly in confusion. She quickly pushed away from his shoulder and settled on the other side of her seat to sleep. Then again, maybe not. ***** End 2/15 ===== ******** "If I sit long enough it just comes to me." Phillip Padgett, 'Milagro' Is your mouse flabby and listless? Come work it out here http://alanna.net/sue ******** From: Suzanne Schramm ***** Queen's Gambit 3/15 See part 1 for disclaimer, etc. ***** Thursday, October 8 Utah I-80 Eastbound 1:06 a.m. Rain was falling as Mulder and Scully started up Parley's Canyon on their way to Park City. The clerk at the Lariat rental counter and the radio both had made dire predictions on when the rain was expected to turn to snow. Mulder had been oddly quiet the entire flight to Utah and, except for the polite necessities at the airport, he was continuing his silence. Scully bit her lip, watching the windshield wipers slap back and forth. It was a month ago tonight. She wondered if Mulder remembered the exact date. Neither of them ever mentioned it. The longer it went, the more awkward it would seem to bring it up. It was an aberration. A momentary lapse in judgment. They both knew it, even if they didn't talk about it. The next morning they reported to the SAC of the case in Morgantown as if it had never happened. Mulder said nothing, hadn't even looked at her, and it had smarted. After returning to Washington on Saturday, the remainder of the weekend passed without a word between them. On Monday morning Mulder looked up at her from his desk when she entered the bullpen and greeted her like he did every Monday. She had been relieved, at first. He didn't seem to be sulking, their partnership was intact - it was as if the previous week had never happened. That night, however, as she undressed for her bath she caught sight of the bruise above her left breast. The memory of how it got there literally shook her. She had sat down on the edge of the tub, her right hand covering the mark, lost in the remembrance of Mulder's mouth on her until it occurred to her that she looked like she was pledging allegiance. Allegiance to what? she wondered. To Mulder? Mulder already had her allegiance. He knew that. He had tested and proven her loyalty to him time and time again. How could he doubt her? But he did, even now. A month later, she still felt she had let him down. Yes, she had left abruptly but it was only because she didn't know what to say to him. It had happened so fast, without time to think. Scully was certain if either of them had taken even a moment to think about it, Morgantown would never have happened. But, god, it had. Every so often she would see Mulder and feel a tug of arousal, her mind wandering as she felt phantom hands on her body. In an effort to keep her sanity, Scully had tried to steer a wide berth around Mulder. After a couple of awkward days he had stopped all the little invasions into her private space. Scully missed those brief taps and touches, missed the connection it had given their partnership. How could they ever get back to where they were before Morgantown? Sometimes she wondered if they'd ever get back to where they were in Morgantown, but she always pushed those unproductive thoughts away. The car's engine shifted gears as they climbed higher into the night. Scully swallowed a couple of times to clear her ears. Mulder's fingers drummed a tattoo against the wheel in time to the static of the radio since they had lost the signal in the canyon. The other option was to turn the radio off, but she was certain he was trying to avoid total silence. "They found his first victim near here," Mulder spoke. Surprised, Scully looked over at him in the dim light of the car. "They were building the golf course back then and the workers found her one morning propped in the seat of the bulldozer. Collins liked to leave his victims where they'd attract some attention. We were able to establish that he was nearby every time they found one of the girls. All but one, his fourth victim, Shelley Fitzsimmons. We never found her and Collins would only say he had taken her but not where the body was." The radio hissed and sparked while Scully worked her voice loose. "Did he work construction?" "No," Mulder shook his head. "He was a courier for Penny Wyman's law firm in Park City during the day and worked at a convenience store on the weekends. That was how he picked his victims, they were all customers. Girls who stopped by on their way home from school." "They were all young girls?" "With one exception. His fifth and final victim, Sheila Emmett. She was a paralegal at Wyman's law firm. Collins asked her out and she turned him down so he killed her on a whim. Wyman grew suspicious when Sheila didn't show up for work on Monday. The profile we'd put together already pointed to Collins. I'd met him since he was constantly hanging around the sheriff's office. One of the deputies had known him when they were kids and Collins always seemed to find a reason to drop by the station." Outside the rain began to fall faster as the car crested the summit. Scully watched the distant lights shimmering through the trees. The radio chattered for a moment before losing the signal again. She closed her eyes, leaning her head back against the seat. "There." Mulder tapped his window with the back of his hand. "That's the golf course over there." Scully looked, but it was too dark to see anything except a few lights. She rested her forehead against the passenger window, the glass cool and soothing against her skin. "Thanks," Mulder cleared his throat. "Thanks for coming out here tonight with me instead of waiting for the morning flight. I know there's nothing that can be done tonight, but at least we'll be able to make a fresh start of it early tomorrow." Scully said nothing, uncertain if he even wanted an answer. "I know her. Karen. I, uh, Huitt would insist that I come eat dinner at their house." Mulder didn't look over, his eyes focused on the road in front of them as he ruminated aloud. "She makes the best homemade pasta." Scully wished she could reassure Mulder that they would find her alive and well, but she felt a cold knot of dread. Collins and his copycat both kept their victims alive for three days before killing them and leaving them to be found on the fourth day. Tomorrow would be day three for Karen Huitt. ***** Thursday, October 8 Summit County Sheriff's Office 7:32 a.m. The office was small and cluttered with desks scattered at odd intervals to accommodate the building's structural posts. The door hadn't even shut behind them before a tall man in his late 30's waved at them from the back of the office. "Fox Mulder!" he exclaimed, navigating through the haphazard maze towards them at a high rate of speed. "Jessie Antonelli, you still here?" Mulder reached out to shake his hand, smiling as Antonelli clapped him hard on the shoulder with his other hand. "Fraid so. I tried to leave, but they begged me to stay." "I'll bet they did." Antonelli leaned in to speak in a conspiratorial tone. "I got my reasons for staying around. I had to give up my bachelor ways since I'm getting hitched next month." "No!" Mulder leaned back, aghast. Scully watched them with amusement. Jessie was only an inch or so shorter than Mulder but he had a good thirty pounds on him. She guessed he had probably played football in college and the muscle was now slowly turning to fat. His sandy blond hair was slicked back and swiftly losing ground with what could kindly be termed a 'high forehead'. His face was red and chapped, looking as if he spent a great deal of time in the outdoors. "You'd never know it to look at me," Antonelli turned to address her. "But I am the catch of the county. Trust me, it's all personal charisma." Mulder grinned widely. "Charisma, my ass. Dana Scully meet Jessie Antonelli. Jess, this is my partner, Dana Scully." Antonelli's grip was almost painfully firm, but he adhered to the polite three-second rule of handshakes and released her hand quickly. "Scully, huh? There's another Agent Scully here, any relation?" Scully shook her head. "Not that I know of." "Ah, doesn't matter," Antonelli gave a dismissive wave. "Mulder, you remember Lewis Scully?" Mulder nodded, turning to Scully to explain. "Lewis was just starting with the Bureau when they sent me out. You could say we all bonded." Jessie gave a snort of derision. "Was that 'bonded' or 'bondage'? Lewis was something of a, well, let's just say he was still really green. Locked himself out of his car twice. So one night, Mulder and I...." Mulder put up his hand to stop Antonelli. "The details aren't important anymore. Let's not have Scully forming any premature opinions of Scully." Antonelli clapped Mulder on the back again. "I gotta say, you're lookin' good, buddy." "This is where I reply in kind, right?" Mulder grinned. "Don't strain yourself on my account." Antonelli shooed Mulder back so he could lean in closer to Scully, taking her arm to lead her towards the back of the office. "So, Dana, how long you been working with G. Gordon Witty here?" Antonelli's warmth and vivacity were contagious and Scully found herself smiling back at him, as she allowed him to propel her forward. "Six years." He let out a low whistle. "You deserve an award. I'm afraid all I can offer you is lukewarm coffee and the promise of working late nights." Antonelli's eyes turned serious and he stopped in front of an office door. He opened the door to let them in, catching Mulder's arm as he walked past. "I hate to see you back here under these circumstances." "How's Huitt doing?" Mulder asked. Antonelli shook his head, his lips pressed together in a thin line. "Not good. The first two victims had traces of grease on their bodies. He's out checking mechanics and auto body shops." Inside Antonelli's office a dark haired man rose, his handsome face and blue eyes igniting Scully's curiosity. The man's smile widened when he caught sight of Mulder behind her. "Well, well. Look what the sheriff dragged in." Mulder extended his hand in greeting, "Lewis, long time no see. No hard feelings?" The man laughed as he shook Mulder's hand. "Oh please," he rolled his eyes. "I'm just grateful you didn't leave me there. When did you get in?" "Late last night," Mulder said. "We can play catch-up together then, they didn't think to call me until last night, either." Lewis shifted his gaze to Scully, his eyes crinkling with interest. "Lewis Scully," he extended his hand to her. "Dana Scully," she answered, shaking his hand. At her name Lewis smiled widely, squeezing her hand once before letting go. So this was the greenhorn? He was in his mid-thirties, like herself, and he certainly appeared to have grown out of the awkward stage Mulder and Antonelli had spoken of. "We got the basics back in Washington, is there anything new you can tell us? Have you had a handwriting expert look at the notes left behind?" Mulder asked. Antonelli's gave a nod. "We checked the handwriting on the notes left with Leslie and Anne. It's Collins, both of them. We even have the son of a bitch's fingerprints on the paper." "Was Collins in touch with anyone? Did he have a correspondant or any visitors while he was in prison?" Scully asked. "I put a call in to the prison, they're gathering all the records, but we need to interview some of the other inmates and the guards." "I can go," Lewis volunteered. "Does someone want to ride with me?" "I will," Scully said and Lewis smiled. "Great, let's get going, shall we?" ***** If the red slayer think he slays, Or if the slain think he is slain, They know not well the subtle ways I keep, and pass, and turn again. d4 d5; c4 e6; Ne3 Nf6 "So far all we've got about the notes is that they're from a poem by Ralph Waldo Emerson. The cryptic letters at the end appear to be chess abbreviations." "For what?" Mulder set the note down on the table and looked up at Antonelli. Antonelli gestured to a chess board in the corner of the office. "We've played out all the moves he's given us, but it's hard to say where he's going with it." "This one was left where?" Mulder asked, indicating the note. "It was underneath Leslie Parker's body in a manilla envelope. There was no postage on it, just the name 'Parker'. We're having the envelope tested. The glue had been licked to close it, we're hoping to get a DNA match off it." "A match for Collins?" Mulder asked. Antonelli smiled. "Possibly, though not just him. Although we did find his fingerprints on it. It appears the envelope was opened and then re-sealed. I'm willing to bet we find a second DNA." "You don't think it's Collins?" Mulder said. Antonelli's smile widened. "You do?" He shook his head. "I heard you became a little radical, started a new department that investigated weird stuff...." he trailed off, the smile still in place, his eyes questioning. "Not my department any more." Mulder picked up the copy of the poem left with Anne Wyman's body. Far or forgot to me is near; Shadow and sunlight are the same; The vanish'd gods to me appear; And one to me are shame and fame. Nf3 bBe7; Bg5 O-O; e3 Nbd7; Rc1 b6; cxd5 exd5; Qa4 Bb7; Ba6 Bxa6; Qxa6 c5; Bxf6 Nxf6; dxc5 bxc5; O-O Qb6; Qe2 c4 "More chess moves," Mulder murmured to himself, setting the notes down side by side before turning to look at the chess board. "Who's winning?" Jessie shook his head. "No one yet. They're pretty evenly matched, although a couple of moves ago exchanging queens would have improved black's position." "You play?" Mulder asked. "No, Albrecht's kid is on the chess team. He came in and showed us. So what do you think? Is this asshole just playing a game with us?" "A game?" Mulder shook his head. "It's not the game, it's the end game that matters." ***** End 3/15 ===== ******** "If I sit long enough it just comes to me." Phillip Padgett, 'Milagro' Is your mouse flabby and listless? Come work it out here http://alanna.net/sue ******** From: Suzanne Schramm ***** Queen's Gambit 4/15 See disclaimer, etc. in part 1 ***** Thursday, October 8 Summit County Sheriff's Office 10:23 p.m. Mulder and Antonelli sat in the conference room, photos and evidence tags stacked in two piles in front of them. After spending the day visiting the two crime scenes, they had returned to the sheriff's office, sorting through their notes and the evidence gathered in both cases. Antonelli kept glancing at his watch, as if he were expecting someone. Each time he snuck a look, Mulder wondered again where Scully and Lewis were. Scully had called him in the mid-afternoon as they were leaving the prison. Apparently Collins did have a few pen pals, she and Lewis were going to check one of them out before returning to Park City. That had been over eight hours ago, and Mulder wasn't certain if their being delayed was good news or if it was due to the snow that had started falling that afternoon. Mulder leaned back, stretching his legs out as he mused aloud. "He's leaving the bodies in a public place. The likely motive would be to maximize the horror for the victim's family since Collins goal here appears to be to punish those originally involved in his arrest. But I..." "Still stuck on Collins, eh?" "Until someone else comes along. The point is - our guy wants us to think he's Collins. He's not leaving any trace evidence, dumping the bodies in a public place lessens the chance of finding reliable evidence. But it also increases the difficulty of leaving the body there without being caught." "So why does he want us to think he's Collins?" "Good question. These murders differ from Collins' in another way, too. Collins sexually assaulted his victims, this guy hasn't." "He's dead, he can't get it up, " Antonelli suggested with a smirk. "Maybe. Collins also tortured his victims. This guy just keeps them alive then kills them. Maybe he's torturing them mentally. Maybe he can't bring himself to hurt them." Antonelli snuck another look at his wrist and Mulder couldn't resist asking. "Am I keeping you from a hot date?" "It's Rachel," Antonelli replied, his leg bouncing nervously under the table. "My fiance. She works in an art gallery down the street and she promised she'd check in with me on her way home tonight." Antonelli frowned, looking at his watch again. "It's nearly 11:00 and they closed at 9:30." He cleared his throat and then pushed away from the table. "I'm gonna call her. Maybe she forgot and just went straight home." As Antonelli reached for the door it swung open and he had to jump back to avoid being hit. A young woman in her mid-twenties with long dark curly hair peered around the door, her cheeks flushed red from the cold from outside. "Almost had you there, didn't I?" she smiled. Antonelli returned the grin, pulling the door open completely and kissing her on the cheek. "You just missed me." "I'll open it faster next time," she promised, reaching up to brush some imaginary lint off his shoulder before letting her hand linger on his arm. "Mulder, I'd like you to meet Rachel Eldredge. Rachel, this is Fox Mulder with the FBI." The smile she had begun to favor Mulder with disappeared. "You're here about Karen, aren't you?" Her light brown eyes darkened to the color of old pennies. Mulder nodded and shook the hand she still had extended in greeting. "I'm sorry to say I am." "This is the guy I was telling you about, Rache. One of the FBI's finest, a sheer genius at profiling. Hell, I knew Collins when we were kids, but Mulder's the one who got inside his head. He's gonna do it again, just you watch. " ***** Thursday, October 8 I-80 Eastbound 9:47 p.m. "...but they came back after about half an hour and released me. I was horrified at the time, thinking it would somehow end up being retold all over the Bureau but they've been the souls of discretion." Lewis chuckled at the memory. Scully smiled, temporarily distracted from the storm outside by Lewis' tale of a younger, more mischevious Mulder. "They wouldn't tell me about it nearly ten years later so I think your secret's safe with them." The back wheels of the truck fishtailed slightly and Scully reached for the dash to brace herself. "Sorry," Lewis said as he slowed the truck to a crawl. "I hate this canyon when it snows." Scully forced herself to sit back and take a deep breath. They had been creeping up Parley's Canyon for the past twenty minutes. Lewis had turned the headlights off so only the parking lights were on, cutting down on the glare so that he could see to drive. He had been talking non-stop since they entered the canyon, Scully wasn't sure if he was nervous about the roads or trying to take her mind off the storm, she decided it was a little of both. "We're almost to the summit," he reassured her. "Somehow the thought that it's all downhill from there isn't very reassuring," she said, tensing as the truck slid gently to the left. She could feel the wheels spin for a sickening second before they gripped the pavement again. The highway patrol had been closing the canyon when they arrived but Lewis had flashed his credentials and explained that he had snow tires so they had been the last vehicle allowed through. Scully was starting to wish she'd taken Lewis up on his first offer to find her a hotel for the night in Salt Lake City. "The ski industry's been praying for an early snowfall this year," Lewis commented. "A town like Park City, that's it main industry now. Used to be mining, but now the big money is in skiing." "What kind of mining?" Scully asked. "Silver. Lots of it. Hundreds of millions of dollars before the early 1900's when the government switched to the gold standard. The bottom dropped out of the market and towns like Park City died off. The truth is, Park City was on it's way to being a ghost town too. But in the 70's the skiing industry took off. Now it's home to the US Ski Team and all the commercialization money can buy." Scully stole a glance at Lewis who shrugged. "I don't mind the ski industry, but I'm not from here originally. A lot of Parkites, the old towners, do. They object to what the ski industry has brought with it. Ugly condos, higher property taxes and a rise in crime. Which is ironic, because in its heyday Park City was the most lawless place in Utah. You had Mormon farming communities all around while the rough and tumble miners lived here. Now they've turned the whorehouses into ritzy shops for people who have more money than sense." "The next Aspen, huh?" Lewis nodded. "That's what they say. This place has just exploded in the past ten years. Mulder probably doesn't even recognize it." Lewis finally lapsed into silence, concentrating solely on his driving. Scully closed her eyes, promising herself that once she got back to the hotel room she'd fill the deep bathtub full of hot water and fall asleep in it. The day had been long and had yielded no real leads. While Lewis had talked with the guards in the visiting room of the prison she had spoken with the guards on Death Row. Collins had been a model prisoner, taking some college classes, in compartive religions of all things. He had grown more withdrawn as the execution had approached, oftentimes refusing meals - claiming that he was fasting to purify his soul. As near as she could tell from the records kept in the mail room, Collins had only three people he had written to on a regular basis. A post office box in Salt Lake City, a Park City address and his former fiancee, Annette Hundley. She and Lewis had driven fifty miles to Toole to talk to Annette, a buxom woman in her late 30's with frizzy black hair. Annette had met Collins through a prison outreach program and still had all of his letters, which she reluctantly turned over to them. "You'll give them back, right?" she had asked, her mouth pinched in an expression of distrust. Scully and Lewis had assured her that they would. Annette told them that Collins was a different man from the one who had been sent to prison. "He was sorry about those girls, he never really meant to do it, he said his behavior stemmed from an abusive childhood and a chemical imbalance." Lewis' slow blink left Scully in no doubt that he wondered if Annette sufferered from an imbalance of her own. Especially since she had just revealed to them that she was, once again, engaged to an inmate. "I loved Randy, don't get me wrong. But he was so determined not to fight the appeals process, he just wanted to die. I need a man with more ambition than that." ***** Friday, October 9 Silver King Hotel 4:54 a.m. Mulder blinked, momentarily confused, as he tried to recall where he was. Park City. Karen. Shutting his eyes again he took a deep breath and then exhaled slowly. His breath was the only sound in the room. It was eerily quiet and then he remembered that it had been snowing hard last night, leaving the whole mountain in muffled silence. Glancing over at the night table clock he congratulated himself on waking up before the alarm. Only about four hours had passed since they had returned to the hotel. After Scully and Lewis came back last night the entire task force had gathered in the conference room to review the case. The lack of progress was discouraging and, on more than one occasion, tempers had flared. Around 1 a.m. Sheriff Huitt had dismissed them all, asking them to get some sleep so they could start fresh in the morning. Huitt himself seemed on the verge of collapse. Earlier in the day he had been full of nervous energy, running purely on adrenaline. To Mulder it appeared that Huitt had now given up hope entirely, bowing beneath the weight of his despair like the trees outside overladen with newfallen snow. Antonelli had taken him home, supporting his boss and friend as he led him outside into the storm. Mulder sat up, stretching, and then walked over to the sliding glass door to see how much snow had accumulated outside. The back of the Silver King Hotel looked down on a collection of artsy shops and chic restaraunts that were part of the Park City Ski area. A few soft lights lit up the snow and it looked like someone had already made a snowman on the bench attached to the building opposite the hotel. Mulder let the curtain fall and stepped away. It wasn't a snowman. His hands fumbled past the curtains, pulling on the sliding glass door. Mulder rushed out into the snow, heedless of his bare feet. He leaned over his balcony railing, peering through the half-light at the figure twenty feet away. It was Karen Huitt, covered in snow. "Scully!" he cried, racing back inside to pound on the connecting door between their rooms. "Scully, are you up?" He picked up his telephone and was dialing the sheriff's office when Scully opened the door, her robe thrown on but not tied. "Mulder, what is it?" "Outside," he pointed, as a voice answered "Summit County Sheriff." "This is Agent Mulder, I need a crime scene unit to the Silver King Hotel now." He hung up the phone just as Scully came rushing back inside. "I'll go get dressed," she hurried past him to her room. Mulder was already peeling off his pajamas, hopping on one leg to get undressed. ***** End 4/15 ===== ******** "If I sit long enough it just comes to me." Phillip Padgett, 'Milagro' Is your mouse flabby and listless? Come work it out here http://alanna.net/sue ******** From: Suzanne Schramm ***** Queen's Gambit 5/15 See part 1 for disclaimer, etc. ***** Friday, October 9 Silver King Hotel 8:23 a.m. Yellow tape stretched across the concourse as a warning for the curious shop owners and tourists by the skating rink 50 yards away. A continuous murmur rose and fell in their midst as they speculated. Despite the fact that the medical examiner had taken Karen away nearly an hour before, the crowd hadn't dissipated. In fact, the number of bystanders appeared to be growing. When Mulder and Scully had first come outside the hotel they had been careful to note the scene. There were no fresh footsteps leading to Karen. The snow around her appeared to have one set of footprints leading up to and away from the bench but they were faint impressions and it was difficult to tell when they had been left. Karen had been left sitting naked on the bench, the snow piling on her head, shoulders and lap. Next to her was a plastic grocery bag containing a six pack of beer, a bottle of shampoo, a receipt, her car keys and a note in Randy's handwriting. They reckon ill who leave me out; When me they fly, I am the wings; I am the doubter and the doubt, And I the hymn the Brahmin sings. Rfd1 Rfd8; Nd4 Bb4; b3 Rac8; bxc4 dxc4; Rc2 Bxc3; Rxc3 Ne4; Rc2 c3; Rdc1 Rc5 "Sonofabitch," Antonelli muttered, turning the evidence bag over to look at the back of the note where "Huitt" was written. He looked up at Mulder with eyes bloodshot from lack of sleep. "What's this sick fuck doing?" Mulder turned, surveying the crowd behind them. "You think he's here?" Scully asked, turning to look herself. Mulder shrugged. "I don't think he'd take that risk, but I can't shake the feeling he's here." "Is it Collins, do you think?" Antonelli held up his hands in mock fright. "Dana!" Scully turned to see Lewis trudging through the snow towards them. "The canyon is a mess, they're just now getting it plowed. Were you planning on going down to Salt Lake for the autopsy?" Lewis stamped his feet to warm them. "If you want to take my truck, you're more than welcome. Last I checked the Taurus didn't come with four-wheel drive." "I, um," Scully paused, caught off guard. "You're insured, right?" Mulder feigned concern. Lewis laughed and held his keys out. "Go on, take it. If it starts snowing again later you'll be glad for it. Besides, the ME's office is on the east bench. You'll just end up high centered on the plowed snow in a car." "Thank you." Scully accepted the keys, flashing Mulder an exasperated glance before she turned and headed towards the parking lot. ***** Friday, October 9 Summit County Sheriff's Conference Room 4:23 p.m. Lewis and Mulder sat on one side of the table while two other officers, Albrecht and Sanborn, took the other side. Files were stacked in the center as they each took a bundle of Annette's letters from Collins, trying to make sense of his sloppy handwriting. "Who was the other agent here this morning? The woman?" Sanborn asked, his head bent as he studied the letter in front of him. "Agent Scully," Mulder answered without looking up. "Scully? No kidding? Any relation?" Sanborn glanced at Lewis. "Not that I know of." Lewis said. "She's something." Sanborn raised his hands, sculpting a woman's silhouette in the air, missing entirely the warning look that Lewis and Albrecht shot him. "She's a forensic pathologist," Mulder said, catching the gesture out of the corner of his eye. "She's Agent Mulder's partner," Lewis spoke up, hoping to change the conversation. "Really?" Sanborn let the word drip with meaning before turning his attention back to the letters in front of him. For a few minutes only the sound of papers shuffling filled the room. "So," Sanborn persisted, "She's not married, I didn't see a ring. Is she seeing anyone?" "You'd have to ask her that," Mulder shrugged. "Cliff," Albrecht pushed a file in front of Sanborn. "Why don't you double check these?" Sanborn glanced at the file and then looked back at Mulder. "Okay, so tell me about her professionally. What's she like?" Mulder blinked slowly. "She's a damn fine investigator and an excellent shot." Sanborn leaned back, crossing his arms and smirking. "I've never had a woman partner. I know it sounds sexist but I just don't think I could work with one. Women are so, what's the word? Emotional. Not to mention the fact that the temptation would be too much. Doesn't your mind wander?" "I hate to disappoint you," Mulder began, an undercurrent of anger lining his words, as Lewis stiffened next to him. "Mul..." Lewis began. Mulder ignored him, leaning forward to emphasize his point. "Agent Scully is one of the finest agents, male or female that I've ever worked with. She might just as well be a man and it wouldn't make the slightest difference to me. " Mulder felt Lewis' knee nudge him under the table and he glanced over to see Scully standing a couple of feet behind Albrecht. For a long second their eyes met, but he couldn't read anything in her expression. "Gentlemen," Scully's voice was even. Sanborn eyes widened in surprise and he flashed Mulder a nasty smile as Scully continued speaking. "I have the preliminary results on Karen Huitt's autopsy." "Agent Scully," Sanborn turned in his seat, gesturing at the chair next to him. "Please, sit down." "No, thank you," Scully stood at the end of the table by Lewis and Albrecht. "Karen was strangled. The cold makes it difficult to establish a time of death since rigor mortis was hastened but I'd have to say she was killed within a couple of hours of being left on the bench, possibly around two a.m. She had the same traces of grease as Anne and Leslie under her fingernails. There was a large bruise on her left hip that looked to be only a few hours pre-mortem. Her stomach was tubular and she was dehydrated, whoever had her the past few days didn't feed her, which is consistent with the findings on the previous two victims. She also had a contact burn on the back of her neck suggestive of a large voltage stun gun." "A stun gun?" Albrecht shook his head. "Stun guns don't usually leave a burn behind. How can you be sure?" "We're guessing, but a stun gun would fit. It could subdue a person quickly, and if it were set at the highest range - 200,000 volts - it could leave behind a burn with extended contact. It's possible Karen may have been given more than one jolt to keep her complacent. The medical examiner saw a case like this two years ago in which a police officer accidentally killed a young man when the jolt was set too high. The burns on Karen matched the photos he had on file." "So it was someone in law enforcement?" Sanborn was scribbling furiously on the notepad in front of him. "Not necessarily," Lewis spoke up. "Anyone could obtain a stun gun with that kind of voltage. The wonders of the Internet." "What about the grease?" Albrecht asked. "Samples have been sent to the crime lab in Salt Lake and to our lab in D.C. We're still waiting to hear back on the samples sent from Anne and Leslie. Hopefully we'll know more in a day or so." Scully looked at the piles on the table. "Are these the case files on Anne Wyman and Leslie Parker?" "They sure are. Anything in particular you're looking for?" Sanborn pulled the chair next to him out in invitation. "I'm not sure yet." Scully sat next to Lewis, handing him his keys and pulling one of the files off the top of a stack. "Thanks for loaning me your truck." "Anytime." Lewis stood up, gathering a few files together. "I'm gonna check on that Salt Lake P.O. box that Collins wrote to on my home tonight. I'll see you all bright and early tomorrow." After Lewis left silence descended over the conference room. Scully scanned through the pages in front of her, not really seeing them. Agent Scully is one of the finest agents, male or female that I've ever worked with. /She might just as well be a man and it wouldn't make the slightest difference to me./ Where the hell had that come from? ***** Friday, October 9 Deer Valley Drive 8:19 p.m. "Wait, pull over here," Mulder pointed at the impound lot. Scully slowed the car and parked next to a sign warning against loitering. Mulder had his door open and was out of the car before she could turn off the engine. "Mulder? What is it?" Scully watched as he pulled on the locked gate of the impound yard. The gate didn't give and Mulder looked up, judging the fence and its ring of barbed wire before jogging over to the small building housing the guard. Mulder came back a minute later with the key to unlock the gate as well as a set of car keys. "I just want to look at Karen's car again," Mulder explained as he held the gate open for Scully. Inside the impound lot there were only three cars. Two of them were from an accident earlier in the day, both smashed with shattered windshields. The third was covered with a blanket of snow - Karen's Ford Explorer. The sun was setting fast, the temperature dropping rapidly as Mulder circled the Explorer, brushing the snow off the windows with his sleeve. Scully stood with her arms crossed for warmth, watching him. "She knew her killer, Scully. Whoever he is, Karen willingly left her car parked at the store and brought her groceries with her. But why would she want a ride when her vehicle was right there? Unless the Explorer didn't start - it was towed to the impound lot so they wouldn't have tried the engine." Mulder fished in his pocket, looking for a latex glove. He pulled one out, put it on and opened the driver's side door. After a moment Scully heard a clicking noise but the engine didn't turn over. "Dana?" Scully turned around to see Antonelli leaning out his truck window across the street. "What's up?" She glanced at the Explorer again. Mulder had given up on starting the engine, staring out the windshield lost in thought. "I don't know," she called out, turning to go over and talk to Antonelli. "Mulder wanted to stop and check Karen's car." Antonelli gave a nod and flashed her a smile. "Did you two already eat? Rachel and I are meeting for a late dinner, you're welcome to join us." "We have, we were on our way back to the hotel." Scully gave an apologetic smile, realizing that eating with Rachel and Antonelli would have been preferable to the stilted meal she and Mulder had just shared. It was unsettling to sit across from Mulder and not have anything to say to him. The solitude of being out in the field had her feeling off-balance. Without the familiarity of their set routine in the bullpen and the comfort of her own space at the end of the day, Scully felt adrift. She still wasn't sure what to make of the conversation she had overhead in the conference room. Mulder had made no mention of what had precipitated his remarks. "Okay, well, I'll see you tomorrow morning. Tell Mulder to take it easy tonight," Antonelli waved and rolled up his truck's window. Mulder had propped the hood on the Explorer open. "Hey Scully," he called. "Flashlight?" Scully walked over to him and handed him the small flashlight she kept in her pocket. The Explorer's engine was well cared for, there didn't appear to be much grime on it. "Huh," Mulder grunted, pointing with the light. "See that? Her distributor cap is gone. The car won't start without it." "We should have them dust the hood and engine for prints," Scully said, taking a step back as Mulder let the hood drop. "Our guy wouldn't be that dumb, but we'll do it anyway. We need to stop by that grocery store. It's possible they might have the surveillance tapes from the night Karen disappeared, maybe we can spot him in the background. It's my guess that he was talking to her inside and then convienently came along just as she realized that her car wouldn't start." Mulder pulled the glove off and looked around for a garbage can. Seeing none he pushed the glove and Scully's flashlight in his coat pocket as he followed her back out the gate to their car. ***** Friday, October 9 Silver King Hotel 11:47 p.m. The grocery store did have surveillance tapes from that night but after two hours of scanning through the tape from October 6 they were unable to spot anything useful. At 8:26 p.m. Karen could be seen entering the store, twenty-two minutes later she chatted with the clerk, collected her bag and disappeared from the camera's view. Mulder exhaled a sigh of disappointment. "She leaves the store, her car doesn't start, someone happens along to help her. There's a cell phone plugged into the lighter in the Explorer and there's also a phone inside the store so he must have been quick to offer assistance otherwise she would have called someone." "So he was waiting in the parking lot? What else is close to there?" Scully thought for a moment and then answered her own question. "There's a movie theater, an auto parts store and a bank. The auto parts store would have been closed but maybe the bank's cameras would have picked something up." "Maybe," Mulder allowed. "But it would have been dark and the bank is on the far side of the parking lot from where Karen's vehicle was." "Worth a shot," Scully said, standing up and stretching. She glanced at her watch and was shocked to see that it was nearly midnight. "We can go check the bank first thing tomorrow. I'm also working on a comparative list of the three victims." "I'll tell you what they have in common, Scully. Randy Collins." "Mulder, you don't honestly believe that Collins is doing this?" "That's one theory. Regardless, Collins is the connection. Whoever this is, they're in league with Collins or want us to think they are. Who was on his list of visitors?" "I don't know," Scully stood up and crossed the room towards her door. "Lewis has the list, we can start working through it tomorrow." She stopped with her hand on the doorknob and turned to look back at him. "Well, good night," Mulder said awkwardly, turning to fiddle with the VCR. His sudden shyness was endearing and Scully impulsively asked, "Mulder, what happened earlier?" "Earlier?" He didn't turn around, carefully setting the tape on top of the VCR. "In the conference room. What was that about?" "Sanborn was being an asshole. He'd never worked with a female agent before and he was trying to imply that..." "Never mind, I get the idea." Scully cut him off with a dismissive wave and opened her door. "I lied to him, Scully." Scully stopped in the doorway. "When I said that you could be a man and it wouldn't matter to me." Scully turned, unable to decide how to react. Mulder had moved closer and she shivered, remembering how he had stalled her in Morgantown. "It would matter to me, Scully. Not professionally, but personally." Mulder stopped a couple feet away from her, waiting for her reaction. She was watching him closely and Mulder wondered if she was trying to weigh his sincerity. "I'm glad you're a woman," he said softly, noting with delight that her eyes darkened. Just a little, but it was a start. "It makes what happened in Morgantown a little easier to explain. You should have seen the look on Krycek's face the night I..." Mulder stopped when Scully smiled. There! He had done it, he had brought up Morgantown and she hadn't slammed the door on him again - yet. She smiled. She was still smiling. Encouraged, Mulder crossed the distance between them and bent to kiss her forehead softly. Scully stepped back, her eyes wide. "I did mean that part about you being the best agent I'd ever worked with." "Mulder, you should quit while you're ahead." "Scully! You think I'm just kissing your ass here?" Mulder feigned hurt, clutching his chest. "No, but I think you'd like to." For a moment they blinked at each other, neither one of them quite believing they had fallen so smoothly into the easy bantering they used to share. Then Mulder gave a soft chuckle. "I'd settle for your lips." "You squandered your kiss, Mulder, when you kissed my forehead." "I was warming up. I'm out of practice." "I doubt that." Scully looked up at him with affection and Mulder's chest tightened. "You're in luck, though, I still have my kiss left." Mulder's smile widened. "What? We only get one a day?" Scully nodded. "Close your eyes, Mulder." "You're not going to sneak out of here if I do, are you?" "No. Humor me." "Of course." Mulder closed his eyes. Scully looked up at his face, finally admitting to herself that this was what she really wanted. God, she had missed this. Missed his teasing, missed his touch, missed the sensation of standing this close to him. At times she was absolutely convinced she had made the right decision in putting a stop to it. But now, with Mulder mere inches away, waiting for her kiss, she missed him with aching intensity. Scully brought her hand to the nape of his neck, pulling him closer. Mulder came willingly, his tongue darting out to moisten his bottom lip and a wave of heat shot through her entire body. Her fingers tightened on his neck and Mulder's lips parted a little more. She moved close enough that she could feel his breath on her lips... ... and kissed the mole on his cheek. She dropped her hand, letting it caress his shoulder as she stepped Back. Mulder opened his eyes to ask her, "What the hell was that?" "I guess I'm out of practice, too, Mulder." He clucked like a chicken as she reached to close the door. "Good night," she smiled back at him. "Sweet dreams." He grinned as she shut the door. Mulder listened closely but didn't hear the lock click. Satisfied, he turned and headed for the shower. ***** End 5/15 ===== ******** "If I sit long enough it just comes to me." Phillip Padgett, 'Milagro' Is your mouse flabby and listless? Come work it out here http://alanna.net/sue ******** From: Suzanne Schramm ***** Queen's Gambit 6/15 See part 1 for disclaimer, etc. ***** The boy stood for a moment, unable to remember which way to turn. Was is it two lefts and then a right? Or left, right and then left again? Or were you supposed to only go left on the way in and he'd have to turn right to go back out? He swung his flashlight back and forth, unable to discern a single memorable feature in the two passages before him. "Guys?" he called out but only the sound of his own harsh breathing came back to greet him. This time, he swore, he wasn't going to let them get away with ditching him like this. He was going to be really pissed if they lit off the dynamite without him. They had spent nearly a week planning where to detonate before deciding to go deep into the mine to avoid detection. If they got caught it was going to mean the premature end of summer vacation. If their parents didn't kill them first... A chill breeze blew from the shaft to the left of him. That had to be the way out then, he'd go to the right. He swung the flashlight to the right and followed the beam. He'd only been walking for a few minutes when the hair on his arms raised and he was overcome by a sense of doom. The boy froze in his tracks, his heart pounding so hard in his chest that it hurt to breathe. /Get out/ Completely spooked he turned to run, only making it a few steps before he heard the blast. Instinctively he dropped to his knees, bending forward and cradling his head in his arms. He felt the rush of air from the explosion and could hear the deafening roar of rock crashing up ahead. After the sound died down he began to scream, willing someone to hear him. They don't know I'm here, he realized. I'm buried alive... Scully kicked the covers back, shaking violently. She took several deep breaths, trying to shake off the abject sense of terror from the boy in her dream. Pulling the covers up to her chin she let her mind wander, trying to find something else to think about. The case? Not exactly the most uplifting of topics. Mulder? "Oh god," she muttered, chagrined all over again. She had fallen asleep debating the wisdom of flirting so openly with Mulder. Nothing good could come of it. Could it? They were, heaven help them, actually going to have to talk about Morgantown. ***** Saturday, October 10 Silver King Hotel 6:31 a.m. Scully was tucking the towel around herself as she reached for the phone. Her mad dash from the bathroom had left a dark trail of water across the carpet. "Scully?" Mulder didn't wait for her greeting. "Are you dressed?" The phone slipped from her shoulder and Scully juggled frantically, trying to catch and tuck at the same time. Exasperated she gave up the towel, letting it drop to the floor. "No. Give me a minute." She realized she sounded curt but she didn't much care. After waking up from the nightmare she had tossed and turned, unable to fall back asleep. Hearing Mulder's voice unaccountably irritated her, perhaps because she had spent the wakeful hours wishing she hadn't kissed him. She kicked the towel out of the way and then opened a dresser drawer as Mulder continued speaking. "I was wondering if you had the records on Collins from the prison?" Scully slammed the drawer shut, hoping Mulder could hear her irritation, not just through the phone, but through the wall. "Lewis has them." There was absolute silence on Mulder's end. "Mulder?" Scully stood motionless, wondering if he was still on the line. "I'm here." "Was that all? Did you need to ask me anything else?" Mulder bit back a comment about her cheery disposition this morning. "I think I'll get the file from Lewis then and head over to the Prison today. I want to look into Collins' course work in religion." "Why?" Scully asked, leaning over to pull on her underwear. The phone slipped again and she scrabbled to hold onto it. "I've been thinking about the poem fragments Collins is leaving behind. They're from Emerson's 'Brahma'. In Hindu mythology Brahma is the creator, the life-force that connects all entities. I know I said I don't think it's Collins doing the killings, but I can't help wondering what significance the poem held for him. He obviously took great care in writing it out." "Mulder that poem holds no significance other than to mess with the minds of the people this new killer is victimizing." "But why?" Scully closed her eyes, feeling even more tired at the thought of arguing the point with him. "Anyway, how would you feel about driving over to the prison again today?" Mulder asked. "I was going to follow-up with the bank today, see if there were any surveillance cameras there. How about if we divide and conquer? You can drop me off at the sheriff's office." "Great. I'll meet you downstairs in 20 minutes." Mulder hung up before she had time to answer. ***** Saturday, October 10 Summit County Sheriff's Office 9:23 a.m. Scully tapped her pen against the table. The bank had already turned the surveillance tapes over to Sheriff Huitt two days ago. She wondered how Mulder was faring at the prison, if he'd found whatever connection he was looking for. Next on her to-do list was to research the names of Collins' visitors. Scully glanced over at Lewis, who was engrossed in the paperwork before him. "Lewis, can I get the list of visitors from you?" A couple of seconds passed before Lewis looked up. He blinked and then gave a slow nod. "Yeah. Yeah, I've, uh, I've got them here somewhere." He lifted a file, set it back down and shuffled some papers. "It was right here..." Scully lifted a stack at the her end of the table. "Maybe in here?" "No," Lewis shook his head and sat back, giving the table a disgruntled look. Antonelli leaned inside the room. "Have you finished checking on Collins' pen pals?" "No," they answered in unison. Lewis flashed Scully an apologetic smile. "Now that list I do have. It's right...," his hand waved over a stack of files before coming to rest on another folder. "Right here." Lewis held up the list in triumph. Antonelli took the list and scanned it briefly. "I thought so, I know one of the names on here. I'm going to head over there right now. Dana, you want to come with me?" "Go," Lewis waved at the table. "Go on. I'll keep looking here. I'll have that list of visitors for you by the time you get back." ***** Saturday, October 10 Main Street 9:58 a.m. Park City glistened under its blanket of snow, the glare causing Scully to squint and wish she'd remembered to bring her sunglasses along. Antonelli pointed out buildings as they drove up Main Street, telling Scully bits of Park City's history as well as anecdotes from his youth. Main Street narrowed, with signs warning that they were now on a dead end road. "This is Empire Canyon we're heading into, Main Street turns into Daly Avenue as it heads up the canyon. Originally this road was just a dirt trail leading to the Judge Mine. In the late 1800's people started building their homes here, including my great-grandfather." "Was he a miner?" Scully asked as Antonelli shifted into a lower gear. The canyon was narrow, the houses built close to the street and situated even closer together. Cars were parked on the side of the road, effectively making it a one-way street. "Fireman," Antonelli grinned and shrugged. "I'm the black sheep of my family. They all were firemen." The right side of the canyon grew steeper but the houses continued down the left side. "Adelaide Harrington is one of Park City's old society. If I had to guess I'd say she's over 90 years old. She was old when I was young." Antonelli's features softened at a memory. "She lives in the last house on Daly Avenue. She was my first employer. I used to weed her garden, mow her lawn, stuff like that. She didn't pay very well but my mother insisted." "She wrote Collins?" Antonelli gave a nod. "Collins lived two doors down from me when were kids. He used to do odd jobs for Adelaide too. She doted on him. I don't think she ever got over his arrest. He was living with her at the time as a kind of a caretaker, jack-of-all-trades. I think the prison sent all his belongings to her after the execution." He pulled off the road, past a small cinderblock garage onto a shoveled driveway. The house was shaped like an "L" with a small front porch festooned with intricate gingerbread ornamentation. The sidewalk in front of the house had also been shoveled. Rock salt crunched beneath their feet as they walked to the door. "Adelaide?" Antonelli opened the front door without knocking, calling out her name loudly as he entered. "Adelaide?" He gestured for Scully to come inside. "Adelaide, it's Jessie." Scully looked around the tiny living room. Every wall was covered with shelves holding porcelain dolls. There was an ancient sofa into which the cushions had been compressed until they appeared nearly flat. A doorway on the far wall gave a glimpse of countertop in the kitchen beyond. "I'm in here," a voice called out from the kitchen. "Come on back." Scully followed Antonelli into the kitchen. An elderly lady was sitting at a table heaped high with papers. Her white hair was cut short and teased on one side. The other side was flat, as if she had slept on it. A large smile split her deeply wrinkled face, revealing that her lower dentures were missing. "You'll never guess what's happened," she told him, picking up one of the papers before her and waving it at him. "I won!" Antonelli sighed and flashed Scully an apologetic smile. "Adelaide, how many times do we have to go over this? You haven't won anything, they just want you to buy their products." Adelaide snorted and shook her head. "Shows what you know, this is a check. See?" She held it out proudly with fingers gnarled by arthritis. Antonelli stepped closer and took it from her. "It looks like a check, but it's not really. See here, the fine print?" He handed it back to her. "It says if you return the winning number they'll send you a real check." "Oh," her expression turned sour and she gave Scully a disapproving look. This isn't your lady friend. Where's that nice girl you usually bring over?" "Adelaide, this is Dana Scully. She's with the FBI and she needs to ask you some questions." Adelaide's eyes went wide. "Heaven help me, the FBI? Are you here to arrest me?" "No, no," Scully gave her a reassuring smile and indicated the chair opposite Adelaide. "May I?" "Yes, certainly." Adelaide waved at the chair. "Where are my manners? Would you like some coffee? Jessie, fix the nice lady some coffee." Antonelli turned and took the old-fashioned coffee percolator off the stove to rinse it in the sink. Adelaide pushed the papers in front of her to the side and folded her hands on the table, regarding Scully with an expectant air. "I just wanted to ask you a few questions about your correspondence with Randall Collins," Scully began. Adelaide looked away, regarding the brightly colored advertisements on the table as if they held more than the elusive promise of instant wealth. "I'm sorry if this pains you, I know you were very close to Randy, but we believe someone is now copying the murders that Randy committed." "Hegh," Adelaide wheezed. "Hegh, hegh, hegh." It took Scully a moment to realize that she was laughing. "Do you really think I have something to do with that?" Adelaide passed a hand in front of her eyes and then waved it at Scully in merriment. "Don't that beat all? Jessie, did you hear that?" "I heard it. I promise, you're not a suspect." Antonelli chuckled himself. "We just want to know if Randy ever mentioned any friends in his letters. Did he ever talk about getting even with the people responsible for putting him in jail?" "No," Adelaide shook her head decisively. "He was taking religion classes, you know. He had truly repented of his crimes, he never talked about getting revenge." Adelaide looked back and forth between Antonelli and Scully. "I have all his letters, if you think that will help." "Yes, please," Scully said. "Jessie," Adelaide tilted her head to indicate the front room. "I keep them in a box at the side of the couch. Would you please find them for me?" Antonelli gave a nod and left the room. "He's a dear boy," she told Scully. "They both are. Were." Adelaide's eyes clouded and she blinked. "He used to sing to me, you know." "Jessie?" Scully asked politely. "Oh heavens, no. Randy. He used to sing to me from that musical, about the craps players." Scully shook her head, not understanding. "Adelaide, Adelaide, ever lovin' Adelaide," her voice broke as she crooned. "Is takin' a chance on me." Scully smiled, realizing which musical she meant. "Guys and Dolls." Adelaide returned the smile. "That's the one. He used to sing that to me. He was a dear boy." ***** Saturday, October 10 Daly Avenue 11:03 a.m. Scully was holding the box containing Collins' letters on her lap as they began the drive back down Empire Canyon. Antonelli drove slowly, his eyes fixed on the right side of the road as they neared his house. "Her car is still here," he told Scully as he turned into his driveway. "Rachel's extremely late for work, I'd better go make sure she got up." "Do you mind if I come in with you?" Scully asked. The coffee they'd consumed at Adelaide's had gone straight through her. Antonelli gave her an distracted nod as he turned the truck off. "Door's unlocked," Antonelli muttered through tight lips when he tried his front door. Scully felt a chill race down her spine. "Rachel?" Antonelli called out as he entered the house. Unlike Adelaide's residence, no one answered his call. "She was here when you left this morning?" Scully asked as she looked around the front room. Antonelli didn't answer, rushing instead into a back room. "Rachel?" Scully peeked into the kitchen. A mug sat on the counter. She put her hand over the top of it, finding it cold. She turned and followed the route Antonelli had taken. He was standing in front of a door at the back of the bedroom, knocking and calling Rachel's name. "The bathroom door's locked," Antonelli looked at her with the beginnings of panic in his eyes. "Why would she lock the bathroom?" They both fell silent, listening to the sound of running water on the other side of the door. Antonelli took a deep breath and then threw the weight of his body against the door. It didn't budge. He tried again with no results. Swearing under his breath he tried a third time and the door gave, splintering inward. "Rachel?" Antonelli pulled back the shower curtain to reveal an empty shower stall. "Oh god," he staggered backwards and Scully reached out to help him to sit on the toilet seat. She reached into the shower, noting that the water was ice cold as she turned it off. "Oh god," Antonelli whispered again, lowering his head into his hands. ***** End 6/15 ===== ******** "If I sit long enough it just comes to me." Phillip Padgett, 'Milagro' Is your mouse flabby and listless? Come work it out here http://alanna.net/sue ******** From: Suzanne Schramm ***** Queen's Gambit 7/15 See disclaimer, etc. in part 1 ***** Sunday, October 11 Silver King Hotel 12:16 a.m. When Mulder got back to the hotel his darkened room was split by light coming through the door connecting his room to Scully's. He tossed his overcoat and suit coat on the bed and leaned his head into Scully's room. The t.v. was on but she lay on her side facing the door, one hand tucked beneath her cheek, fast asleep. Mulder approached her quietly, debating whether to awaken her. She must have had something important to discuss if she had left the door open so he reached down and shook her arm gently. Scully startled, pushing up onto her elbow. "What time is it?" she asked groggily. Mulder sat down at the foot of her bed. "Just past midnight. Was I supposed to wake you?" "Yes. I'm sorry, I meant to stay awake, I just didn't get much sleep last night." Scully yawned and sat up completely, swinging her legs over the side of the bed. "Where have you been Mulder? I've been trying all day to get in touch with you." "My cell phone died. After the prison I drove up to Ogden to interview Collins' educational counselor." Mulder shrugged. "Why?" "Rachel's disappeared." Mulder shook his head slowly in disbelief. "When did it happen?" "Sometime this morning. Antonelli left the house around seven o'clock and Rachel was still asleep. The shop she works at opens at 9:30 but she never showed up. We were driving past his house around eleven when he noticed her car was still in the driveway. We went inside and the place was empty. The shower had been left running but there was no sign of a struggle, nothing." Mulder stood, starting to pace the room. "How's Antonelli doing?" Scully shook her head. "Not good. I took him home, but I don't know that he'll get any sleep." She picked up the remote and turned off the t.v. "I talked with Huitt this afternoon. He's checked every garage between Heber and Salt Lake without coming up with anything. They're bringing in additional manpower tomorrow morning." "But will it be in time for Rachel?" Mulder asked quietly. Without the t.v. on, the silence in the room was overwhelming as they both considered their race against the clock. "Scully, I want to say something, and I don't want you to take this the wrong way." Her eyes met his. "Whoever this is, they're going after everyone involved in the original investigation." Scully nodded. "You need to call your mother. Try not to alarm her, but see if there isn't someone she can stay with until after we ..." "He won't go after my mother," Mulder said flatly. Scully opened her mouth to disagree with him but found she couldn't. She looked past Mulder to the t.v., wishing she hadn't turned it off. "He'll go after you. He's getting his revenge by killing what they love best; Huitt, Antonelli and the others." Scully closed her eyes briefly and then looked back at Mulder. His eyes were serious, his expression pained. "I'm not sure how to argue with you on this one, Mulder." "Then don't. Just..." he swallowed and brushed his fingers over her hand. "Just be careful." Scully watched as he picked up the folder with her notes from the day in it, an ache building in her chest. /...love best/ The night in Morgantown came back to her in a rush and her cheeks flushed at the memory. She hastily reconsidered her reconsiderations from the night before. "Mulder," she said softly to stop him from leaving. He paused in the doorway as she continued speaking. "When this case is over, we need to talk." Mulder turned and gave her a quick grin. "I look forward to it." Scully reached to turn off her light as he left. When she lay down Scully noticed the door between their rooms was still open a crack. Comforted by the thought that he, too, was looking for a way to breach the wall they had built, she turned over and tried to go back to sleep. ***** Water was dripping everywhere as the flashlight flickered. The boy shook it, trying to coax just a few more minutes worth of light from the batteries. He could see the timbers of an old shaft up ahead. If the light would just hold out for a little while longer he could climb out of here. He choked back a sob when the light dimmed again, giving him only a small circle of faint light on the wet and slippery surface of the floor. His hand reached out for the rock wall, letting it guide him instead. He turned off the flashlight, hoping to preserve the batteries. Maybe they would recharge a little with the power off? He stepped carefully, feeling with his toes for the open shaft he knew was coming. It seemed to take an eternity, inching along in the darkness. He was cold, he was wet, he was tired. His throat was raw from shouting and his fingers had gone numb, he was relying on the vibrations passing up his arm to guide him along. Then it happened. His foot skittered out into empty space. He leaned backwards, overcompensating in his fright and winding up flat on his ass. The flashlight bounced out of his cold hand. He frantically felt for it, bumping into it once and sending it rolling away before he was able to get a good grip on it. Shivering violently he ran his thumb across the switch. For a second there was a dim yellow glow before the light died entirely. His throat closed off, trapping the air in his lungs as the painful realization set in. I'm gonna die in here. His shoulders shook with sobs, the wails echoing eerily through the shaft, as he gave in to despair. Scully muffled her cry into the pillow. It took several long moments before she realized that she was safe and snug in a bed. She pulled the covers up over her head but couldn't get warm. Two nights in a row now, to have had this strange dream. Her heart continued to hammer against her breastbone, still feeling the boy's fear and grief. Scully took a deep breath and let it out slowly. She turned her head to see the alarm clock, 3:26 a.m. She knew already there wasn't a chance in hell that she'd fall back to sleep. Throwing back the covers she tiptoed to the door to retrieve her notes from Mulder's room. She pushed the connecting door open and stepped inside. She could hear Mulder's slow even breathing as she crept towards the papers she could see on his nightstand. The sound was comforting, familiar even. She began to gather together her notes, using the light from his alarm clock to guide her. "Scully?" he whispered. "Yes, sorry. I didn't mean to wake you. I was just getting my notes." "At 3:30 in the morning?" Mulder sat up, his hand reaching out to touch her elbow. "I couldn't sleep." His hand was warm against her skin and she realized that she had come in here, not for her notes, but because she had craved the human connection. "Do you want to talk about it?" "About what?" Scully reluctantly pulled away from his touch. "I heard you. That must have been an awful dream." Mulder's hand brushed her elbow again. "You've been awake this whole time?" She felt indignation rising up in her. "Why the hell didn't you say something when I first came in the room?" "I, ah, never mind." Mulder's voice was amused. A white hot burst of anger ran through Scully and then disappeared as quickly as it had come, leaving her drained and, she feared, entirely susceptible to Mulder's charm. She sat down on the edge of the bed, utterly exhausted. "I keep having this dream," she whispered. "About a young boy, probably eleven or twelve, and he's buried alive. I had it last night and again tonight. I can see him, it's almost like I am him, but I can't help him and I always wake up feeling trapped and helpless." Scully shivered. "Maybe it's just some weird unconscious metaphor for how helpless I feel in this case. We canvassed the entire neighborhood but no one saw anything. It's like Rachel just disappeared into thin air." Mulder was quiet, he too had been unable to fall sleep, tormented by grief for Antonelli and worry for Rachel when he had heard Scully's cries through the wall. His visit with Eldon James, Collins' education counselor had revealed that Collins had indeed boasted to Mr. James on multiple occasions that he was coming back and that justice would be served when he did. Four women had disappeared without a trace, without a single witness. What if it really was the work of a spector instead of a more corporeal villian? How could you stop a ghost? Scully's breath hitched and he reached out, smoothing his hand over her back comfortingly. To his surprise she turned, slipping her arms around him and embracing him tightly. "I'm sorry, Mulder." Her breath tickled across his neck. "For what?" He shifted and her head slipped to rest against his shoulder. "For Morgantown. For leaving like that." Mulder tightened his arms around her. "I'm sorry, too. I was angry, I should never have said that to you." "No." Scully shook her head, nuzzling him in the process. "No. You were right to be angry. I never gave you a chance." "You didn't have to." Mulder pulled his head back from where it rested against the crown of her head. Scully loosened her hold on him. "We need to set some ground rules, Mulder. Our partnership is too valuable to me." "Are we having that talk now? 'Cause I didn't bring my notes." "Why did you do it?" Scully moved so that they were no longer touching. "Make notes? I didn't want to forget anything." Scully didn't reply, waiting for his real answer. "I'm not sure," Mulder finally said. "If you mean Morgantown, why I stopped you from leaving like that, it's... it's complicated. Why did you leave like you did?" Scully let out a sigh. "It's complicated," she echoed. "How complicated?" Mulder's voice was light, almost teasing, but she could sense the undercurrent of anxiety in his question. Suddenly three in the morning didn't seem like a good time to discuss this. Scully stood up to leave, feeling unsteady on her feet. "Scully?" "Good night, Mulder." She bent to kiss his forehead softly before she could think better of it. "Do you want to know what I really wanted that night?" Scully's stomach tightened. "What?" she whispered. "I didn't want you leave. I came so close to losing you when the X-Files were shut down. I mean - you were leaving me..." "Not you, Mulder. I left the FBI." "It's the same thing." "No. No it's not. Mulder can't you see that I quit to avoid being transferred? I left so I could stay in D.C., with you. "With me?" Mulder gave a dry chuckle. "You told me your heart wasn't in it anymore." "And you took that to mean you personally?" "How could I have known differently? Scully, without the job, what else do we have?" "Friendship. Respect. Mulder, how can you ask me that? How can you believe that the X-Files are the only thing holding us together?" Scully returned to sit on the bed again as she spoke. "Friendship - yes. Respect - absolutely. But Scully, I never see you outside of work. It's not like we hang out together on the weekends." "So Morgantown was what? An attempt at a relationship you see no basis for?" "Morgantown, ah, god. I don't know." Mulder made a helpless gesture, frustrated with his inability to tell her what had driven him that night. "Or were you trying to establish a new level between us in case they separated us again?" Mulder gave a choking laugh. "So the next time they break us up you'll say 'Damn, that Mulder was a good lay. I should call him.'?" Scully smiled in spite of herself. "Don't flatter yourself," she told him, desperate to steer the conversation back to something more lighthearted. She hadn't meant to poke the hornet's nest so hard when she apologized. "I wasn't good?" Mulder adopted a mock hurt tone, feeling the same need to get back on sturdier ground. "I can't believe we're having this conversation," Scully muttered. "I was that bad?" "Mulder, it's not a question of..." "Go ahead, tell me the truth. I was lousy, huh?" Scully stood up again. "Don't you want to know how you were?" "No," she told him, stepping away from the bed. "You were amazing." "Flattery won't work for you tonight." "It didn't really work last night either. Wait, Scully, please." She stopped a few steps away from the door. "What I said earlier, I meant it literally about that night. I just didn't want you to leave. I realize I should have found another way to ask you to stay. When you left anyway..." he fell silent. Scully stood motionless, debating the merits of not leaving tonight. She didn't want to leave. All that waited in her room was a cold bed and the chilling remnants of her nightmare. The idea of staying in here, with him, was a tempting one. Perhaps not a wise one, but it might go a long way towards showing Mulder that there was more than just the job between them. Not sex, she told herself, just friendship. "How amazing?" she asked. "What?" Scully turned around. "I asked 'how amazing?'." Mulder nearly gulped. "Amazing enough I'm still taking cold showers a month later?" "Then scoot over, you get the cold side of the bed." Mulder slid over immediately. "I love it when you're bossy." "Mulder, one more word of innuendo from you and I'll never tell you how you were," Scully said as she slid in bed next to him. "Shutting up now." For a few minutes they shifted, adjusting the sheets and taking care not to end up actually touching each other. Scully took deep even breaths, her mind swimming at the memory of making love to this man. "Mulder?" she whispered. "Hmmm?" "You weren't bad." "Humph," he rolled onto his side, facing her. "That's it? Just a 'not bad'?" "What did you want to hear?" "Anything but 'not bad'. How about 'amazing'?" "No." "No, I wasn't amazing?" "No, we already used that word." "Is this a report for Kersh? We can't use the same adjective twice?" "What if I told you that 'amazing' falls short of your actual performance?" Scully could hear his grin in the dark. "Good night, Mulder." "I don't get a good night kiss?" "I already kissed you." "That was for Saturday. Now it's Sunday. I want Sunday's kiss." "You'll have to wait until tonight." "Well, I plan on using both my kisses now. Close your eyes, Scully." Mulder listened happily as her breathing changed to become less even. "Mulder, it's already dark in here." "Humor me. Close your eyes." "Ok. They're closed." The mattress shifted beneath her as Mulder leaned so that he was propped up over her. She felt the whisper of his breath against her mouth for a brief moment and her lips parted, waiting for the press of his. "Good night, Scully," he whispered, the puff of air from his words tickling her lips. Then he gently kissed each of her eyelids. "Good night," she echoed, her eyes still closed, her heart pounding relief and disappointment through her body. ***** End 7/15 ===== ******** "If I sit long enough it just comes to me." Phillip Padgett, 'Milagro' Is your mouse flabby and listless? Come work it out here http://alanna.net/sue ******** From: Suzanne Schramm Date: Thu, 9 Mar 2000 04:55:33 -0800 (PST) Subject: xfc: Queen's Gambit (8 of 15) Source: xfc From: Suzanne Schramm ***** Queen's Gambit 8/15 See part 1 for disclaimer, etc. ***** Sunday, October 11 Summit County Sheriff's Office 7:50 a.m. Scully drummed her fingers on the fax machine, frustrated at its silence. She had spent half an hour combing carefully through every folder on the conference table without finding the list of Collins' visitors. Finally she had called the prison and the secretary assuring her she would send the list right over. That had been over ten minutes ago and Scully felt the passing of time keenly. The fax machine whirred, finally coming to life as the modem connected. It seemed an eternity for the paper to slowly work its way out of the machine. As she walked back towards the conference room she scanned through the list, stopping short at what she saw. "Son of a bitch!" She pushed into the conference room and picked up the phone to call Mulder. ***** Antonelli sat hunched over the steering wheel of his truck, waiting for the stoplight to change. Mulder had volunteered to pick up Antonelli that morning since Scully had driven him home the night before. He had been waiting for Mulder, throwing the door open before he had even finished knocking. "I called the hotel but you must have left already," Antonelli had told him as he brushed past Mulder and headed for his truck. Now it appeared that he had used up all his energy hustling to the truck. Antonelli was still wearing the same clothes from the day before and he hadn't shaved. He looked over, feeling Mulder's gaze upon him, and shook his head. "I spent the whole night hoping she's left me." "Did you two have a fight?" "No," he shook his head again. "But they say you never see these things coming." "Did you get any sleep?" Mulder asked him softly. The light changed and Antonelli drove forward. "I got enough." He glanced over at Mulder. "When are you going to turn brilliant on me? This would be as good a time as any." Mulder exhaled slowly, he hadn't slept either. His mind had turned in circles, wandering between the case, Rachel's disappearance and Scully. Her odd dreams had given him an idea. "Do you know if Huitt checked the mines? Those traces of grease on the victims, couldn't they have come from tracks inside the mines?" "Shit," Antonelli swore under his breath. "If he's got her in the mines, it would be like looking for a needle in a haystack. Do you realize how many hundreds of miles of tunnel are underneath this mountain? Lay 'em all out and you could walk to Chicago." "He's got her in the mine." Mulder gave a somber nod. "He takes them there, keeps them alive for a few days and then kills them. The mine is perfect - it's dark so they can't see to escape, they can scream and no one will hear them." "Shit," Antonelli said again, hitting the steering wheel with the heel of his hand. "Shit, you're right. She's in the mine. If he keeps to his timeline we've got two days to find her." "Did she, did Rachel have any strange dreams before she disappeared?" Antonelli gave him a puzzled look. "Strange dreams? Like what?" "About the mine, or being down in the mine?" Mulder's cell phone rang and he answered, "Mulder." "Mulder, it's me. I finally got a chance to look at the list of Collins' visitors in prison." "And?" "And he was visited by Lewis Scully on three occasions in the month preceeding his execution." "What does Lewis have to say about it?" "I don't know. He's not here to ask." "Let's find out where Lewis is. Hey, Scully, in your opinion, could the grease on the victims bodies be from some kind of tracks? Like a mining car?" "You think he's keeping them in the mine?" Scully paused, considering. "I think it's a strong possibility." "Where do we start?" Mulder turned to ask Antonelli. "God, I don't know," Antonelli grimaced. "The mines have all been shut down for fifteen years or longer. Except the Ontario - it's a tourist attraction now. But it has a working shaft and it connects to several other mines. We can use it as a base. Tell Scully to round up everyone she can and meet us there." ***** Sunday, October 11 Park City Silver Mine Adventure 9:23 a.m. "None of you are claustrophic, right?" Huitt asked as the gate slid shut. Three bells sounded and the car rose, allowing eight more officers on the cage below theirs. The cages were small - six feet deep, four feet wide and stacked five high. All together they were capable of carrying forty or more miners at a time. The car swayed as the people below them boarded. There was a metallic clank and the bells sounded again. The car rose enveloping them in darkness as the car below blocked out the light. "Once we have everyone loaded we'll be dropping to the 1500 foot level," Huitt continued. "That's deeper than the Sears Tower is high. Everything below 1500 feet is filled with water. They quit mining here in '83 when the cost of pumping the water out was more than they were extracting in silver ore." "Why start that deep?" Scully asked. "Isn't it more likely that he's keeping them somewhere you don't have to take such a long ride to reach?" "You need to take into account how far up the mountain we drove to get here. At 1500 feet there are several drain tunnels leading outside and we join up with the Daly West mine. It's as good a place as any to start. We'll work our way up from there." Mulder shifted uncomfortably, his hard hat clacking against the low ceiling of the car. Water was dripping from the roof of the cage, a few drops had slid beneath his slicker and were cold against his neck. The officers in the car below them were a jovial group, snickering and asking who was grabbing whose ass. Mulder was in the corner where no one could grab his ass. Scully stood in front of him, swaying backwards to unintentionally press intimately against him as the bells sounded and the cage ascended one car higher into the shaft. Antonelli was wedged in next to him. He had not spoken a word to anyone since they had arrived at the mine, a far away look in his eyes. "Remember to keep your arms and legs inside the ride at all times," someone snickered from below as the car jumped again from the weight of new passengers. Another door clanged shut below them and two bells rang. With a woosh they began to descend, passing the opening from which they had piled into the car and moving swiftly downwards into utter darkness. Water dripped steadily across Mulder's neck as they dropped. He felt disoriented in the dark and he moved his hand so that it was resting on Scully's hip. He felt her hesitate a moment before she relaxed, leaning a little more heavily against him. The seconds stretched out in the blackness. Even the group below them fell quiet, sobered by the seemingly endless descent. "Hey Scully," Mulder bent closer to where he hoped her ear was. "Did you find Lewis?" She leaned back to answer him, her hard hat bumping against his sternum. "He called in this morning saying there was some kind of family emergency. We tried to contact him at home but no one answered." The car shuddered, rocketing back and forth in the shaft. "Whoa!" someone exclaimed from below them. Nervous laughter filtered up as the car continued to tremble violently. "We're halfway," Huitt explained. "We're passing the counterweight, the change in air pressure from it moving upwards and our pushing downwards is what causes us to rock." For a few seconds longer the cage was buffeted. Then the jolting motion ceased and they continued to drop blindly into the mine. ***** Sunday, October 11 Ontario Mine, 1300 foot level 7:42 p.m. "Jesus! Don't come creeping up behind people like that!" Antonelli took a deep breath, reaching out to steady himself against Mulder's shoulder. "Are you okay?" The mine's temperature hovered at 55 degrees year round, but Antonelli looked feverish. Mulder could see a light sheen on his forehead. "I hate the mines," Antonelli shivered, a spark of fear behind his eyes. "When I was a kid I used to play in them with my friends. One of them died in a cave-in. I've never been able to go in a mine since. It just freaks me, you know?" Mulder gave a sympathetic nod. Antonelli's hand was still on his shoulder and Mulder realized that he was near collapse. He couldn't even begin to imagine how Antonelli must feel - he hadn't said a word about Rachel since this morning. It had been a long day, spent walking endless rock corridors without a sign of Rachel. At 2:00 the first shift had left and new officers had taken their place. Antonelli had refused to leave so Mulder and Scully had stayed down in the mine with him. Now they were slowly working their way back out of the mine. Scully had gone on ahead to judge the distance left. Mulder sensed that being down in the mine was making her just as uncomfortable as Antonelli. "Did you hear that?" Antonelli turned, looking back in the direction they had come from. Mulder paused, listening. There was nothing. Furthermore, they had walked that corridor twice now, there was nowhere that someone could have hidden. "Let's get you out of here," Mulder put his hand over Antonelli's, dismayed to feel how cold his skin was. "I think you're in shock. You need to sit down, get warm." "Oh god, what am I going to do?" Antonelli whispered, his knees buckling beneath him. Mulder stepped forward, bracing Antonelli between the mine's wall and himself. Scully came around the corner and quickly took Antonelli's other arm. "There's a bench up ahead," she said. "It's right by the shaft." They walked him between them to the bench. "I'm sorry," Antonelli mumbled as they helped him sit down. "I'll go ring for the cage to take us back up," Scully said. "Hang in there, buddy." Mulder slid his hand quickly over Antonelli's back and shoulders in an attempt to warm him. "Just hang in there." ***** Sunday, October 11 Silver King Hotel 9:09 p.m. Scully was balancing the box awkwardly between her hip and the wall, searching her coat pocket for the key card when she heard Mulder's footsteps behind her. "Need a hand?" "Yes, thank you," she answered. "Can you grab this box?" Mulder took the box, leaning closer to murmur in her ear, "I'd rather search for your key." The unexpected overture sent a blush across her cheeks but she refrained from answering him, instead opening the door and turning the light on. "What have you got here?" Mulder hefted the box as he crossed her room to set it on a small table by the window. "Some of Collins' letters and belongings, sent on to Adelaide Harrington from the prison after his execution. I was going to look through it tonight." Mulder shrugged off his coat and then opened the box. "Want some company?" Scully shrugged and hung her coat up. Truthfully she didn't want company. She didn't even want to look through the box. She wanted nothing more than to crawl under the comforter and fall asleep. She kicked her shoes off and sat down heavily on the bed. Being down in the mine all day had been exhausting and she hoped that tonight might yield a dreamless sleep. She had been unable to go back to sleep the night before, despite Mulder's comforting presence. She glanced at Mulder, watching him sift slowly through the papers inside the box. He looked over at her and smiled. "Why don't you go wash up? I'll call for room service." "What?" Scully lifted her hand to comb back her hair. Mulder moved closer and reached out to touch her face, lifting her chin to look up at him. Heat slid through her as his thumb stroked over her cheek softly. She fought to keep her eyes open, but she told herself it was only because she was tired. "Go take a look. You're filthy." "Filthy?" Scully rose from the bed and walked into the bathroom. The mirror revealed that Mulder hadn't been teasing her. Her face was streaked with traces of grease and mud. Her hair had given up any semblance of being styled from the humidity in the mine. She turned on the tap, letting the water heat up as she wet a washcloth. She held the warm cloth to her face, letting the heat soak into her skin. She sensed movement behind her and turned to find Mulder leaning against the door jamb with his arms folded. Under the bright light of the bathroom she could see that the mine had taken its toll on him as well. The day's accumulation of stubble was a little darker than usual. "You're perilously near 'filthy' yourself," she told him. "I've been accused of many things, but 'filthy' was never one of them." Scully opened her mouth with a snappy retort and then stopped. Was it her imagination or was he deliberating seducing her tonight? After so many years of working side-by-side with this man, of knowing him so well, he almost seemed a stranger to her. Part of wanted to step closer to him, be enveloped in his arms, sleep next to him again tonight. The rest of her feared the outcome of those actions. "What are we doing here, Mulder?" "Waiting for room service?" Scully gave the corner of her mouth a nervous lick and looked down at the floor. "That's not what I meant." "Good. I didn't order any," Mulder said softly. "What do you want us to be doing?" Scully looked up quickly, blushing again. "Ground rules," she cleared her throat. "We set some ground rules, remember?" Mulder smiled and stepped closer to her. "You sneak into my bed late at night and then you tell me we have ground rules?" "That's right." Scully stood up straighter and placed one hand on his chest to stop his slow advance. Mulder glanced down at her hand and then back up at her, his smile widening. "Well, Scully, those ground rules guaranteed me one kiss from you today." He raised his hand to cover hers, holding it to his heart. "You gonna let me pick where?" Scully gently pulled her hand away and leaned forward, kissing him where her hand had rested. Mulder closed his eyes, profoundly affected by the gesture. When he opened his eyes she was looking up at him, her mouth curved in the beginnings of a smile. "Too bad you used your kiss already, Mulder." Mulder stepped backwards, leaving her standing in the bathroom and headed towards his room. "Don't worry, Scully. Tomorrow will be here in less than three hours. You know where to find me." Scully shook her head in resignation and looked across the room at Adelaide's box. "Tomorrow," she whispered to herself and then started the water running for her bath. ***** It's slow going, climbing in the dark. Reach, pull, balance. Wooden splinters sliding beneath the skin of desperate hands, causing the palm to slide instead of grip. Breathe. Reach, pull, balance. Take deep breaths, try to calm the shakiness in nervous legs and arms. Reach. Reach out again into the black, forcing cold fingers to bend and claw, hoping to find just one more handhold, another few inches higher on the beams criss-crossing the edges of the shaft. Hold on, shift a little higher and let go with the other hand. Pull. Pull with less strength than a few minutes ago but more strength than five minutes from now. Balance. Balance and try not to think about how far is left to go. Especially don't think about how far there is to fall. Reach. Pull. Balance. But in mines, especially old ones, there are always rotting timbers. So exhausted, when the fingers reached for that unstable beam. Unable to detect the way the wood gives until it's too late and there's nothing to balance on. Falling is neither silent nor swift. Every single beam climbed on the way up is still there, giving new meaning to the phrase "breaking a fall". ***** Scully rolled over, pulling the pillow to her face to choke back a sob. He was dead. The young boy in the mine. He had fallen down a shaft and died while trying to climb out. Her heart ached as she wept silently into the pillow. She would never be able to admit it to Mulder, and could only half-admit it to herself, but she knew that he had been real and that he was reaching out to her now. But why? ***** End 8/15 ===== ******** "If I sit long enough it just comes to me." Phillip Padgett, 'Milagro' Is your mouse flabby and listless? Come work it out here http://alanna.net/sue ********