Author's Note: Yeah, it's a repost. I took it off to revise it and make it better. After about the fourth chapter it became…well in a mix of ego, pride and some other stuff, the story no longer seemed like it was my characters. Phoebe is emotionless and a Tylenol eater, Brian is a heroin addict and a sociopath, and Joe actually hates his perception. No offence to Chris, but I went the way of the X-Files. Once charismatic and actually worth watching to having guest stars like Burt Reynolds! Grrrr…..
Disclaimer: The characters Doggett, Reyes, and Scully are not mine, but the property of Chris Carter and Ten Thirteen Productions. There was no financial gain in the writing of this story and it is for entertainment purposes only.
Summary: In roughly about Season 9, sometime after Burt Reynolds' uber (such a funny word)-crappy guest appearance, a serial killer commits suicide, but that doesn't stop him from reaping havoc upon the two Agents that had nothing to do with his case. Without a clue as to why he's trying to end their lives, they recruit the aid of three teens who can see the dead to hunt him down and end his reign of terror forever. But things aren't too great with the teens they hire, and with harsh decisions from one's parents, they too have their work cut out for them.
"Wake me up inside, wake me up inside, call my name and save my soul tonight. Bid my blood to run, before I've come undone, save me from the nothing I've become."
~Evanescence, Bring Me To Life
Chapter 1: Second Opinions
He became so accustomed to it he could smell the blood on his hands. The small pieces of flesh from where he had drawn the line over the person's stomach were littered on the tiled floor. He stared at it with a certain fascination, almost as if it consumed him. He had no regrets. He had done the job he was meant to.
He stood up from the stool he was sitting on and looked at the bathtub. The water he had cleaned her with was crimson, her pale and tortured eyes staring out from under it. They pierced his soul, screaming with so much force his head began to ache from looking, and he turned away. Her hair floated endlessly in the water, the blond locks dyed red from the blood, her blood. Her flesh was bathed in it. She appeared alive, yet he knew what he had done. He knew he had killed her.
Turning away he walked from the blood soaked bathroom, his right hand still carrying the kitchen knife he'd done it with. He dropped it, the point striking the hard wood floor and sticking upward. Blood trickled from his fingers, leaving a path from the bathroom to the bedroom. He didn't move, trembling softly as he reached to his back pocket and pulled the gun from it.
He opened the clip. One more bullet, he thought, and grinned softly. Just enough. He stopped in the centre of the room, the woman's eyes still screaming at him from the bathroom. Without another word he rose the gun to his temple and pulled the trigger.
Phoebe awoke with a start, gasping as she sat up in bed. Her bedroom was freezing, half from her blankets being kicked to the base of the bed and the other half from the window being open. She shivered slightly, her bare legs pale and luminous in the moonlight streaming from the open curtains. Damn, she thought, and went to the window, catching her breath. Her pyjama pants fell down from her thighs and hit the floor, and she slammed the window shut, locking it with the latch. Brushing a hand through her chestnut hair, she walked back to the bed, her bare feet protesting in soft stings to the chill on her floor. She sat on the edge of the bed, collecting her thoughts before she heard a creak behind her door, and light streamed from the crack between it and the floor. A chill spread through the already frigid bedroom, signalling an instinctive alarm. She opened the night table drawer and pulled a video camera into her hand. Checking the tape, she hit the record button and walked to the door, placing her hand on the knob. She was taken aback by the cold. It was like dry ice, and nearly burned her if she hadn't swung the door open quickly. Walking softly, she moved around the corner to the kitchen, looking with the camera first.
Saying nothing, she flipped out the viewing screen. There was nothing of any importance. It was a breeze, she thought, unlike herself. Just a breeze. Joe or Brian might have left the window open. She moved to the window, checking it. It was latched and shut. Okay, she thought.
The bedroom door slammed. Great, Phoebe thought. You forgot to lock the door. Now your rooms crawling with them. You'll be having no sleep for a year. She moved quickly back to her bedroom, trying to open the door. A cold mist moved from the crack at the bottom to her feet. She grabbed the key from around her neck and slid it into the lock before opening the door.
The window slammed, and then silence fell on the house. She sighed deeply, feeling the temperature return to normal. She turned off the camera and went back to bed.
Agent John Doggett hated early morning phone calls, especially one pertaining to the supernatural. So, this morning he became unusually cranky when the perky and annoying voice of Leyla Harrison appeared on the opposite line and wished him a, "VERY GOOD MORNING AGENT DOGGET!" He practically hung up there, but, being courteous, he continued.
"Good morning Agent Harrison." He said, wiping the sleep from his eyes. "Do you have nay idea what time it is?"
"Actually, yes." Agent Harrison looked up at the clock in the airport, seeing the number change from 6:57 to 6:58 am. "It's just about 7:00."
Agent Doggett groaned and sat up, the cold air embracing him and making his shiver softly. He returned to the warmth of his blankets for a second. "Is there any special reason you're calling me this early on a Sunday Agent Harrison?"
"Once again, Agent Doggett, there is. You know my friend in Homicide, Agent Jason Sharp?" John sighed and gave a small, "Hmmm." As a response. She continued giddily. "Well he came across a case he's completely stumped on, and I mentioned a bit about you and your department, and immediately booked two tickets for you and Agent Reyes to get check it out!"
"Can you repeat that?" He asked, a little shocked. Agent Harrison gave a small giggle. "San Francisco?"
"Homicide's been following a case for months about a Serial Killer who has a habit to drown his victim's before removing their inner organs and dumping them over the city. They were all but out of answers until they found the murderer, dead in his apartment. He'd committed suicide just last night." Agent Doggett swung his legs out of bed and stood up on the floor.
"What does this have to do with Agent Reyes and me going to San Francisco?" He asked, still lost in Agent Harrison's never-ending circle of questions. The woman was an X-File in herself, and it was one case that John wanted to leave unsolved.
"Well, I figured you two would want to check it out, so I've got the tickets here and your plane leaves at noon." She said, looking at her watch. "You have plenty of time to get here and get on the flight."
"Agent Harrison, I appreciate your enthusiasm once again. But Agent Reyes and I can't just drop everything and go to California because your friend needs a hand. Besides, we've got Skinner and Kersh breathing down our necks as hard and as close as they could be and…"
"Say no more Agent Doggett. Don't you think I thought of that? I already arranged it with them. They're fine about it. They even said your last case wasn't going anywhere, you know, about the ghost of Elvis haunting his museum?" Agent Doggett groaned, hearing Agent Harrison laugh again. "They want you out there and solving cases. Alright, so maybe they don't approve of your department and would sooner close it down then support you, but they were fine with the situation."
"And why can't you go?" He asked, far less happy then Agent Harrison. She breathed deeply and answered.
"My schedule's booked Agent Doggett. I've got some many bed credit option from Agents, I'm swamped till next Century, but I do wish you and Agent Reyes the best of luck." The phone went click and John Doggett stood in the centre of his room, suddenly loathing early morning phone calls even more.
Brian turned around the living room corner, looking at the floor. Phoebe was asleep in front of the television, under a thin blanket. She was curled in an awkward position, her hand resting limply on the remote as the DVD of Due South played over on the TV. "How many times have I seen you like this?" He asked himself, and flicked off the DVD player. The sun was coming in through the windows now, the clock reading a nice and healthy 9:34 am. He gently removed the remote from under her hand, and set it on top of the TV, before shaking his roommate gently on the shoulder.
"Phoebe?" He asked quietly, in almost a whisper. Her eyelids flickered and she sighed deeply, stretching out her legs painfully. Brian watched her through his contacts, the lenses appearing frightening if you hadn't seen him before. She looked at him and smiled softly, pulling the sheet closer.
"Morning." She said in a dry voice. The two looked at each other for a second before she continued. "Why'd you turn off Due South?"
"Haven't you watched enough of the Mountie?" She glared at him, her green eyes vivid with life. The electric blue ring around her pupil began to flare again. He laughed and helped her up, watching her stagger a little before stretching out her back. "Besides, he'll always be there when you turn it back on."
"Shut up and go make me some breakfast." She demanded playfully. He grinned and bowed to her.
"I apologize your Majesty. Would you like eggs this morning? Or a healthy serving of Kiss my Ass?" She laughed and poked him in the side, getting his skittish reaction and smiling.
"Both please." She said. "And sausages. I wasn't up all night chasing to not have a good breakfast."
"How many?" He asked, walking back into the kitchen, getting a frying pan out of the cupboard.
"13." She replied, slumping on the couch and snatching the TV remote from the table. She listened to Brian retrieve things from the fridge and cupboards more. "I got some good film, although, the damn thing trashed Joe's room."
"He's gonna be pissed when he gets up." Brian retorted. "What was it?"
"Female, teenage, killed herself over a guy." Phoebe reported without remorse. "She didn't like Joe because he was a pretty boy." She turned on the TV and started channel surfing.
"That's the same reason I hate him." Phoebe laughed at that, and he had to smile when she laughed. It was rare when Phoebe was actually happy. But morning rituals with Brian seemed to cheer her up.
"So…" She turned off the TV, unsatisfied with the selection and walked into the kitchen. "You woken up by any strange noises last night?"
"Nope, none whatsoever." He replied, cracking eggs into the frying pan as they started to sizzle. "Although I did hear you come out to the kitchen. What's up with that? I thought we were protected." Phoebe shook her head and shrugged.
"Probably a new one." She replied. "Just some guy who still thinks he's alive."
"You know, if murder wasn't illegal I'd kill her right now." Reyes replied sarcastically, shoving her bags into the rental car. Agent Doggett had to admit that Agent Harrison's case was worth seeing Agent Reyes cynical. Her brown eyes were flustered in rage and her hair was going crazy on top of her head, not brushed and styled properly, she appeared mildly humorous. She had said several little quick things in Spanish, most likely cursing. She took a deep breath and sat in the passenger's seat, breathing deeply.
"You going to be alright Agent Reyes?" He asked politely. She sighed deeply and nodded finally, forgetting all about being angry. "I agree though, I'd kill her too right about now. This is a solved case."
"Actually, Homicide has been having trouble finding motive and several other aspects, so technically this is a partially open case, although I fail to see how opinions on it matter too much." Agent Reyes calmly explained. "Homicide has all the people they need."
"It's just a second opinion Monica. What were you going to do today that was so important you scolded yourself in Spanish over." A blush started to develop on her cheeks and she looked at her lap, then back at Agent Doggett.
"I was looking forward to being Case Free." She replied.
"We work on the X-Files." He said sarcastically. "We are and never will be case free."
"Good point." She replied. Agent Doggett started the car and pushed on the gas pedal.
"So, we have to second opinion this?" Agent Reyes asked as she opened the file and looked at the full colour photos. The shot of the man with the gun in his hand made her wince, the blood splattered across the floor and dripping from the gaping wound.
"Guess so. Name's Harvey Lloyd, resident of San Francisco his whole life. Middle child of four sisters, two older, two younger. And the murdered of 3 innocent women." He looked over at Monica. "I studied the file on the way here while you slept."
"Well, at least one of us did." She replied, looking at the pages of information. "How did he…"
"Choose?" Agent Doggett asked. Reyes nodded. "He picked women that would have been dubbed outstanding. Every feature, every grade, everything was picked like they were dolls or something. Then he'd drug them, drag them to his apartment and cut them all over in a bath tub full of water before drowning them." Reyes found the bathtub pictures next.
"Nice guy." She replied quietly. Doggett sighed.
"Nobody knows why he did it." He said. "What drove him to do it."
"Well, the sister thing is a little weird." Reyes responded. "It was probably brought on by him growing up always between them and never better or worse then any."
"You think he did this because he was becoming better?"
"I think he was doing this maybe to control them instead of them controlling him. It talks about several psychological disorders-including depression-which was brought on by family." Reyes studied through the file more so. Doggett pulled out of the parking lot and onto the road.
She closed the file and looked at him. "Are we going to the crime scene?" He nodded, watching the road. "The press are probably going insane." He nodded again.
"You guys are insane." Phoebe said as they walked her to the top floor of the apartment building, somehow planning to get onto the crime scene. "They're never going to buy that we're photographers."
"Why not?" Joe asked. He held up their forged ID's and Phoebe groaned, heaving her camera bag up the stairs. She looked at him with a glare. "Besides, you owe me. You messed my room!"
"I told you, I didn't do that. I was chasing and they got a little psycho. And I apologized, made you breakfast, and helped you clean it."
"Yeah, until that guy came back and you were out on the fire escape." Brian jumped in from the back of the slow moving line. Phoebe smiled at him, laughing. Joe grinned and laughed a deep resounding laugh.
"Hey, that was good footage." She said in her defence.
"You know, we really have to get our house blessed again." Joe sat down on the landing, taking a breather from heaving up their cameras 14 floors already.
"The Priest doesn't come to Atheist's house." Phoebe said laughing softly, slumping next to him. "Remember last time? He actually sent the devil into my room."
"That guy wasn't the devil." Brian corrected her. "He was actually a murderer who was shot by some FBI Agent."
"You talked to him?" Phoebe looked surprised. As far as she knew, the subjects only talked to her.
"No. But while he was whipping pillows at you he was shouting something about some Special Agent."
"Hey, those pillows hurt."
"Not as much as you getting thrown into a china cabinet I'll bet." Joe said. Phoebe gave him a sarcastic glare.
"It was four HEAVY books to the head, tossed into a china cabinet and then had a bookcase nearly fall on me, thank you very much. I don't think I'll ever forget the diagnosis. Severe concussion and 29 shards of glass impaling my back while another million or so were embedded in every single cut." She reported, remembering the doctor's voice despite not being able to remember anything else. "They had me on morphine for a freaking month. Saw the best subjects though."
"Maybe we should all become morphine addicts." Brian suggested.
"If my parents had anything to say about it, I would be a morphine addict and living at home, probably married and with four kids." She said cynically. Neither of them made any comments. Both knew Phoebe's parents were a conversation going to only one thing: Phoebe getting into that silent mood she has and smiling like she had been injected with steroids and going to bed, mumbling stuff about how she'd kill them.
"So, shall we continue?" Brian changed the subject quickly. Phoebe nodded and smiled, getting up and following them. They were always in the same line up. Joe went first, being the biggest and the strongest. Then Phoebe, the smallest and youngest; and then Brian, who wasn't muscular or a good chaser, but it was more of protection for Phoebe.
Doggett and Reyes walked through the crowded hallways. Luckily the Press was gone for now, having been thrown out by the gruff voiced and shouting Sheriff in the room. Brushing her dark brown hair to look half presentable, and the two held out their ID for the guard. He nodded them through.
"What the hell are you Feds doing here again?" The Sheriff barked angrily, looking like he was about to explode. He was red in the face, and with the weight he had on, he looked actually quite bad.
"We're Agents Dog…."
"I don't care who the hell you are." Reyes gave a shocked look to Agent Doggett. "I've got two divisions. Why are the Feds still trying to make this national?"
"Look, I don't care. I've told you guys everything you need to know. Just take a look around and get off my crime scene." He stalked off, leaving the two Agents speechless. They looked at one another and walked into the Apartment, glancing into the bathroom where three photographers were snapping photos a mile a minute. One of them retreated from there.
"Excuse me." She said, walking into the bedroom, with her camera bag bouncing against her thigh. The two Agents looked into the bedroom and bathroom, unsure of where to go, Every place seemed to be claimed by other Agents of the San Francisco PD.
"Well, looks like we got here right when we were needed." Reyes commented on the situation. "So he shot himself in the bedroom." A nod was all she received. "And the girl was in the bathtub?" A second nod. "And there's nothing else?"
"I think I found something." The girl photographer said loudly, to whoever was listening. Nobody seemed to notice. She groaned and started snapping pictures anyways, and Agent Doggett and Reyes came over, looking over her shoulder. "Could you not do that? Makes me nervous."
"Sorry." Reyes said.
The girl looked, up, brushing brown hair over her shoulder. Her eyes radiated an electric blue in the emerald green irises unlike anything Agent Doggett or Reyes had seen. "It's something carved into the floor. I just thought it might mean something but they can't hire good police work here." She sighed again. 'Sorry, I meant no offence."
"None taken." Agent Doggett said, looking where her gloved fingers were pointing. Engraved in the floor was an odd symbol, carved with some form of expertise. She flashed another picture.
"Well, if you'll excuse me again." She said, getting up. She turned quickly and left to the bathroom again. Agent Doggett and Reyes looked back at her for a second but then at the symbol in the floor.
"What do you think it is?" She asked him. He shook his head.
"Guess someone will have to translate it." He replied. "Nothing I've ever seen before."
There was a flash of the camera. The girl was back for another shot for a moment. The two Agents looked up at her as she took another shot. "Sorry. It means Never End."
"You take Japanese or something?" Agent Doggett asked. She shook her head and looked away from him, her eyes moving over the wall.
"No. I've seen it before." She replied simply. "It's in a book I read. Reincarnation for Atheists. Actually kind of stupid because they got the criteria of reincarnation all wrong."
"You believe in reincarnation?" Monica asked the eccentric girl. She shrugged.
"Not really. I believe are spirits come back, but they're just spirits." Phoebe didn't like the way these Agents were looking at her. She knew her eyes were burning again. Damn my freaking 'gift of sight'! She cursed her parents for not killing her and sparing her the life. "Good day." She said quickly and left the room, going back to the bathroom.
"Have you seen her before?"
"Must be on the San Francisco PD." Doggett replied.
"John she wasn't even taking pictures of the symbol." Monica stated clearly. "When she came back she was aiming for over here, like she was taking pictures of us."
Doggett looked strangely at Monica. They got up and walked to the bathroom, where the two male photographers were taking pictures. The girl had left. They looked to the entrance, where she was stepping over the tape and walking down the hall.
Phoebe walked quickly. Lord, she hated direct conversations. She surrounded herself with Joe and Brian so they could answer the nuisance and bombardments of questions she often received. "Why do your eyes glow blue?" "Why are you taking pictures of nothing?" She only hoped Joe and Brian would stop observing so they could just go. She really didn't like people, especially when she didn't have sunglasses. Her last pair broke in an unfortunate chasing accident. She'd dropped them in a mad dash to grab her camera and then Joe ran over them. They'd cost her 50 bucks and she never replaced them since, figuring no one would care about the weird swirl thing in her eyes. If it never moved, she could say it was contacts. But whenever some subject came into her view it exploded like it was on fire.
"Hey! Phoebe!" Joe ran down the hall after her. Brian trailed behind, heaving all the equipment with him. "Why'd you leave?" Phoebe looked back, seeing the Agents still watching her. She opened the doors to the stairs and walked inside, nearly closing the door on her two friends.
"Those 2 Agents were looking at me weird." She replied, breathing deeply. "I hate confrontation! I panicked!"
"Well, we have to go back. There's definitely something going on." Brian said. "I saw something."
"This kid was following that Agent around." She said, holding up her camera. "I don't know, I got it but he gave me some weird look." Phoebe grabbed her bottle of Tylenol.
"What the hell are you doing?" She downed four dry and shoved the bottle back in her bag.
"I'm making everything okay." She said, and the four started down the stairs.
"We're coming back tonight." Brian announced, and Joe was the only one who nodded. Phoebe popped another pill into her mouth.
"We aren't going to get anything." Reyes commented as she and Agent Doggett walked down the hall. His hair shimmered blond in the harshly lit hallway. She looked at the floor.
"Let's just check into some motel and come back tonight." Agent Doggett said. "If they haven't gutted this place by the time we get back."
"Isn't this called breaking and entering?" Phoebe asked, a little unsure as she, Joe and Brian crossed over the Police tape. Her hair was combed back into a ponytail, and she shone the flashlight over the ground, careful not to step on any evidence.
"Technically, yes." Joe said, looking around with his camcorder. "However, for the case of…us, completely necessary." Brian looked around with his own camera, and Phoebe followed with hers. The three moved slowly.
"I'm in the bathroom." She announced, moving slowly past the two guys ahead of her and stepping into the room.
Doggett took the keys out of the ignition and got out of the car. The two Agents looked upward to the apartment on the top floor. They both saw the light beams dancing around the windows. Flashlights were moving round in the apartment.
"Other Agents?" He suggested. Reyes shrugged, and they reached for their own flashlights and fire arms. They walked to the door and stepped inside quietly, careful not to alert the landlady. They moved to the elevator, forgetting about the OUT OF ORDER sign that had fallen off.
"Looks like we're taking the stairs." He said, and the two began the 15 story climb to the top.
"I'm getting nothing." Phoebe said through the house, looking into her camera. The blue circle in her eyes had faded to green, seeing no subjects. Brian looked into the viewing screen on his camera in the living room, while Joe searched through the bedroom.
"There's something here Phoebe." Brian replied.
"Brian, if I can't see something it's not there." She retorted, looking in the bathtub with video camera.
"There's something here." Joe said from the bedroom.
"Damn it guys, there's nothing here." She turned off her camera. The second she did so there was a rush of visions, with the subjects moving through the walls. She grabbed the camera but before she could a boy with blond hair grabbed her wrist and held it tight in his frigid hand.
"Guys?" She shouted. There was no reply. The boy disappeared, as did the rush of subjects. She looked around the bathroom. She turned and looked in the other direction, through the window at her reflection. The blue ring started to flare.
"Federal Agents." A voice said from behind her and a flashlight was on her back. Phoebe sighed and grinned softly. She turned off her camera.
"Joe, Brian. Take off that accent and stop trying to get me back. You guys suck." She turned and face the heavy glare of two flashlights and guns.
I'd like to apologize to Gothic Spook and X MulderScully X who read every chapter and seemed to enjoy the story. I wasn't entirely happy with it, and I can promise that:
1) There will still be Doggett/Reyes Romance, because I just got Audrey Pauley on tape and they SHOULD HAVE KISSED!
2) There will be some Phoebe/Someone Else romance, because in my original fiction concerning the three, there was some chemistry between she and a main character. (I'm taking a poll on who you would like to see her kiss more, please review and give me some ideas. Perhaps another character should be added just for the young heroine)
3) Scully will have a bigger roll, but not by much as she is a dull and boring character without Mulder and since this is in Season Nine, Scully is dull and boring.
Ps: Gothic Spook, you got the right address. I received your e-mail.