Summary: What if Scully had accepted the transfer to Salt Lake City? Five years later, a horrifying murder case reunites her with Mulder, even as it threatens to rip apart her life.
Disclaimer: I own nothing and no one here that were not on the show. The rest are mine. I make no money from this. The X-Files and its world belong to the Man, Chris Carter.
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The man stood in front of the boy, and watched as the golden shadows slid over his body. The candlelight danced sinuously on the walls of the room, and sparkled off the sharp silver metal in the man's hand. The tiny sparkles changed direction as the hand moved towards the boy.
The boy screamed.
The man smiled.
Scully stood up and cheered as the small brown-haired boy, jersey number 10, slid past home plate in a shower of dust. She turned to the man beside her, a broad smile lighting her features. He smiled back as they filed out of the bleachers.
"See?" He said, his voice slightly hoarse from cheering. "I told you that it wasn't going to be boring. And Tyler really appreciated you coming out."
"I was glad to come." She glanced at him sideways, teasing. "But are you sure I'm not just trying to weasel my way into your nephew's affections?" He laughed, and leaned over and dropped a kiss on the top of her head. A disgusted groan sounded from behind them.
"Aw, gross! Why don't I just give you two some privacy." Rob laughed and grabbed the boy around the shoulders.
"I was just telling off Dana for thinking that baseball is boring." Tyler gaped at her.
"Oh, man! You think baseball is boring? Uncle Rob, what the hell kind of girl did you pick?" Scully threw up her hands, protesting weakly.
"I… I never said that I thought… I mean… You know, Great American Sport… Go base-" She was cut of by their laughter, and unable to stop a small giggle herself, sighed: "Oh, leave me alone!"
They didn't stop laughing until the parking lot, where the hot Utah sun lit up the dust from the departing minivans. Scully was fumbling with the keys to her sedan as her cell phone began to ring.
"Damn!" She muttered, and dropped her keys in the dust, setting Tyler off again. Rob looked over at her, grinning.
"Dana, you need a hand or something?"
"No, I don't. Goddamn it, where is that phone?"
"Language, Dana!" Tyler shot back mischievously, sticking out his tongue. Finally Scully rescued her phone from the depths of her purse, and, pinning it to her ear with her shoulder, leaned down carefully to retrieve her keys.
"Dana Scully, and this is a bad time." she barked into the phone. "Oh, Assistant Director." Rob smirked. She shushed him crossly. "Yes, sir, I'm familiar with the case, but I don't see-… Yes, sir… No, sir… Are you sure?… Yes, of course, I'll be right in. Thank you, sir. Goodbye." Rob looked at her quietly. Tyler wouldn't meet her eyes. The sun was stifling.
"I-" She started. Rob raised his hand to stop her.
"I get it, it's okay. Yeah. Right, Ty?" Tyler shrugged and looked away.
"Yeah, okay. Whatever. Thanks for coming, Dana. Can we get our cab now?"
Scully slammed the door of her car when she got in.
The Salt Lake City field office was buzzing with activity when Scully pulled open the heavy glass doors of the large office tower. After clearing security, she strode down the hallway, eventually opening the grey door of meeting room 312. The fluorescent bulbs hummed softly overhead, aggravating her already foul mood.
Her partner, Dan Morris, was already inside, leaning up against a filing cabinet. His gun hung in its brown holster at his hip, its strap starkly visible against his white shirt. His jacket lay on the desk in front of him, the silvery lining exposed.
"Hey," he said weakly. "Sorry you had to be dragged away from the kid's ballgame."
She shrugged. "It wasn't the best move I've ever made towards him, that's for sure." She looked down, then up again quickly, her eyes flashing. "Dan, what do have to do with the Choir case? Are we being put on it?"
"Honestly, Dana? I don't know. But something in the AD's tone makes me think so. But, on the upside-"
"There's an upside?" she snapped. He ignored her.
"On the upside, it'll help drag us out of the mess of the last case."
"Or it'll pull is in even deeper! Dan, not one agent has made it out of this case with their career or their sanity intact, you know that."
"It's a tough case, I'm not denying it. But what choice do we really have? We've got a chance to end this, before more kids get hurt." His gaze was stern, resolution clear in his lined features. She sighed, and sat down in the chair opposite him. Someone's shoes squeaked in the hallway. The fluorescent bulb flickered briefly. With a deep gulp, the clock ticked over the minute. Dan coughed quietly.
With a sudden noise the door clicked open, and Assistant Director George Chilton slipped inside. He wore a well-pressed suit, was clean-shaven, and had a subtle tie. His hair was controlled without being slick, the strands in place but not in an improbable helmet above his scalp. Chilton's appearance of cool calm was marred, however, by the faint heated odour around him, and the oily sheen of sweat on his upper lip. He carried five thick dossiers under one arm, an arm just muscled enough to be appropriate for his job, but not so pumped up as to be ridiculous when that arm signed form after form in the mahogany office upstairs. This man was in balanced every inch, a paper-pushing bureaucrat with just enough experience to give him credibility in the field. This man was every inch the FBI.
Chilton strode up to the desk and roughly deposited the files there. All but one were thick enough to require elastic bands to keep them shut, the pinkish strips straining against the stiff, glossy brown paper. Chilton's lip gleamed.
"Agent Scully, Agent Morris, thank you for arriving on such short notice. As you probably know, Special Agent Pembrooke, the former SAC for this case, retired about a month ago. This is the first reason you are here. The second is extremely important, and it is time sensitive." He paused. "Agent Scully, Agent Morris, they've found another boy." Scully hissed a breath through her teeth. "He was in a field in Provo, off the I-15. We're certain it's the same killer, but that is what you and Morris are going to confirm. You're not going to be alone in this. Two experts from NCAVC in Washington are just being rushed through the airport now."
"Are they profilers?" Morris asked quietly. Chilton glanced over.
"Yes, and these guys are good. They'll be here in about half an hour, so in the mean time I want you both to do your best to familiarize yourself with the case file and with the two agents. There's a copy of the case file for both of you, a folder of crime scene photographs back to the first victim, and the personnel file for each of the agents from Headquarters. Get to it." He began to head for the door, but turned around with his hand on the knob. He gazed at them evenly. "I had to pick a pair of agents on the fly for this. I have faith in your abilities, both of you. I trust you to be professional." He looked at Scully for a beat, and then opened the door. His voice floated back to them on the current from the air conditioning. "I trust you to catch this asshole."
Scully forgave him for the sweat.
Dan immediately picked up the case file and began to skip through, but Scully ran her fingers down the spines of the folders, until her fingers found the thick personnel file. She nimbly pulled it out without upsetting the pile, and idly scanned the sticker on the front.
National Center for the Analysis of Violent Crime.
Badge Number: JTT047101111.
What came next froze her whole body.
Special Agent Fox W. Mulder
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Author's Note: Please review! This is my first fanfic, and I'd like to know whether or not you like the story and if I should continue it. Thanks a lot! -Ceilidh