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This author's e-mail address has changed to: info@peggyli.com
This author's current web site is: www.peggyli.com
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Hi all.  This little story is counter-point to "Dana" for those who 
have requested a similar story, except from Scully's POV.  It's not 
quite the same, but...well, I'll let you judge for yourselves:-).   
Comments to:  pli@channelone.com or pli@juno.com

<all usual disclaimers here>

OUT OF THE PAST (or, Agent Scully Has Too Much Caffeine)- 
by Peggy Li,   2/25/95

	The phone rang and Scully took her pen out of her mouth to 
answer it.
	"Scully.  Hi Charley, what is it?"  Scully looked at the piles 
of papers stacked on her desk and took in a deep breath, "Oh, I 
guess I have the time," she lied.  "Sounds intriguing.  I'll be down in 
ten."

	Agent Charles Braughton came scampering down the 
hallway as Scully approached.  She couldn't help but smile at the 
sight of the graying, pudgy little man in spectacles, both arms 
swathed in bright blue heavy-duty rubber gloves, hurrying to greet 
her.  The fact that the man's mind was a sharp as a razor and those 
gloves were stained red past the wrists, she had register in some 
back corner of her mind.
	"Dana, I'm so glad you could spare us some of your time.  
As you can see, we're just swamped today!"
	"What's going on?"  Charley was guiding her down through 
the FBI's crime lab, which was a buzz of activity that morning.  
Body bags were piled like kindling in one room they passed.
	"Oh, just another hot day in D.C."  Charley replied wryly, 
"but that's not why I called you down here."
	"Yes?"  Scully asked, dodging a gurney.
	"I've got a little mystery on my hands.  A body brought in 
this morning, sent from a friend of mine at the Monterey field office.  
Was found in a little cove at the Point Montega seashore reserve.   
Probably not a homicide, but someone ought to check it out.  Room 
eighteen."  Charley hurried off and left Scully standing in the 
hallway, more than a bit confused.  Shrugging slightly, she grabbed 
an autopsy kit and made her way to room eighteen.

	What greeted her in the room surprised her.  There, on the 
stark stainless steel table, sat a large, plain cardboard box, wrapped 
in a plastic bag.
	"Weird," she murmured under her breath.  She approached 
the table and flipped on the voice-activated recorder that hung 
overhead, automatically moving into the proper procedure for an 
autopsy.  Though she'd never had to autopsy something like this 
before.
She picked up the camera and began snapping photos.
	"Agent Dana Scully assisting Agent Charles Braughton's 
case, number..." she glanced at the clipboard on the table, "nine-oh-
nine-seven-two-delta.  Need to establish identity and cause of death.  
I have here a plain cardboard box, three by one foot in dimension, 
wrapped in plastic by the recording agent from the Monterey field 
office, Daniel Stockheim.  Removing the plastic covering."
	Scully knew that the box and the plastic had been used only 
to ship the body and she didn't know quite what to expect.
	"The box shows a degree of moistness on the bottom, looks 
like water."  Scully snapped a recording photo of the obvious dark 
water stains.  "Opening the box."
	A blast of musty air hit her in the face and she turned away 
for a moment, then peered inside the box.
	"I have here skeletal remains, "  Scully reached in a pulled 
out a browned and scarred fragment, "of indeterminate age.  There 
also appears to be...clothing fragments and other personal effects 
included from the scene where the body was found."  Scully stared 
at the box of bones and heaved a sigh- Charley had literally handed 
her a puzzle.  "I will begin by determining the completeness of the 
skeleton."  She pushed the box gently to one end of the autopsy 
table and reached into the box for the skull, placing it at the far end.  
It would be a weary task to put together the pieces, but by now 
Scully was wondering herself who this mysterious person could be.

	Mulder quietly entered the room and allowed Scully to finish 
speaking as she motioned him in with a wave of her hand.	
	"....estimating sixty years old.  I've ordered X-rays and 
odontology to help with the identification and will wait for their 
determination before pronouncing."  Scully switched off the 
recorder and pulled off her hair-cap with a smile.
	"Hey, Mulder."
	"Hey, Scully."
	"How'd you find me?"  Scully asked, reaching to put more 
film in the camera.
	"Saw that you left a pile of papers on your desk and felt it 
was my duty to personally track you down and reprimand you for 
neglecting your post."
	"I've been gone for over two hours."
	"Never said that *I* wasn't going to neglect some duties 
finding you,"  Mulder smiled.  "Who's this poor fella?" he added, 
gesturing to the skeleton on the table.
	"He's a she.  And I don't know."  Mulder raised his eyebrows 
and Scully nodded in reply.  "It's actually quite mysterious.  Agent 
Braughton thought I'd like to figure it out.  This body was found in a 
cove near Monterey.  The skeleton is complete, and I was just about 
to look for a cause of death."
	"Mind if I join you?"  Scully could see a spark of interest 
come into Mulder's eyes.
	"Sure."  Mulder reached for a pair of gloves.  "I'm pretty 
convinced she died of a gunshot wound- there was a bullet casing 
found at the scene."
	Mulder reached for the small piece of metal on the dissecting 
tray.  "Looks like a .38 casing."  
	Scully nodded, "There was also a gun found at the scene, a 
.38 with one round fired.    I also have what looks like a piece of silk 
from an article of clothing, and a few old coins that date from the 
1920's to the 1930's."
	Mulder rummaged through these pieces of evidence.  
"Sounds like a suicide.  Gun at the scene, only one bullet 
discharged..."
	"You may be right.  Take a look at this."  Mulder moved 
Scully's hand under the center of the light, "This is a rib bone from 
the left side.  See this black scarring?"
	"Yeah."
	"Gunpowder from a bullet fired at close range.  You can 
even see the nick on the bone where it passed through.  It bevels 
towards the inside of the bone, indicating that the bullet was fired 
from in front of her."
	Mulder nodded, "Shot herself in the heart?"
	Scully replaced the rib bone where it belonged and reached 
for the camera to take a picture of it.  "Looks that way.  Could you 
hold that ruler right up against there?  Thanks."  Scully snapped a 
few shots while Mulder held a ruler against the bone for scale.
	"How old do you think she was?"
	"I dunno.  A young woman, perhaps in her twenties or 
thirties.  Tests will be pretty conclusive about that."
	"Poor kid,"  Mulder murmured, "wonder who she was."
	"Me, too."  Scully replied, snapping another picture.
	"Bet she was a young, virtuous lass who had her heart 
broken by some two-bit hood.  He was being sent "up the river" to 
Sing-Sing for the chair and in a gesture of love she blows her heart 
out."
	"Lovely, Mulder.   What have you been reading lately?"
	"All I know about the twenties I got from the movies.  That's 
how it always happens in those gangster films, Scully."
	Scully knew Mulder was kidding around and was about to 
follow along with his little story when something caught her eye.
	"Wait a minute.  Come look at this!"
	"What is it?"  Mulder asked eagerly, bending close to where 
she was pointing.
	"Another powder stain.  Here, on her left hand."
	"How could that have happened?"  he murmured, turning to 
Scully.  She straightened up slowly and replied,
	"Mulder...this girl didn't kill herself.  She was shot.  
Murdered."

	"Oh Scully, come on.  We have other work to do."
	"Mulder, we know her name now.  Aren't you the least bit 
curious as to what happened to her sixty years ago?"
	"As far as I'm concerned, this woman went to a deserted 
cove and shot herself in the heart, for reasons we'll never know.  
Give it a rest."
	"I'd like to giver her a chance to rest, Mulder.  I know we 
could never prove who the killer was, but..."
	"IF she was killed."
	"...but I think it'd be interesting to find out...if she has any 
surviving relatives.  To let them know what happened to her."
	Mulder sighed,  "Did you send the gun to ballistics?"
	Scully smiled and eagerly rose from her desk.  "Yeah, they'll 
get back to me later this afternoon.  I'm telling you Mulder, it 
happened like this: "  Scully stood in the middle of the office, 
pantomiming,  "She was confronted by her killer.   So she held up 
her hand to her chest, like this, and then was shot."  Scully spread 
her hands wide, as if no other explanation was necessary.   Mulder 
sighed and pulled of his glasses.
	"Lead the way," he said, following Scully out the door.

	"Found it!  Laura Carfax age twenty six, missing from her 
home in Carmel, 1928."  Mulder pointed to the newspaper article 
stored on microfiche.  "Heiress to the Carfax estate and engaged to 
Donald Pembry Jr., the esteemed son of district attorney Donald 
Pembry senior.  Well, no wonder she ran away,"  Mulder gestured to 
the grainy photo of a gangly, homely looking young man who was 
Pembry Jr.  Scully swatted him on the shoulder and he winced, 
chastised.
	"Is there a picture of Laura?"
	"Lemme see."  Mulder flipped to the next slide and whistled.  
"Quite a dame."
	Scully squinted at the poor photograph of Laura Carfax, 
who, even through the bad newsprint, was obviously quite beautiful 
and fine-featured.  "What does the article say?"
	"Let's keep reading."

	An hour and a half later Mulder and Scully sat at a library 
table to compare notes.
	"Laura Carfax was a well-bred, educated woman.  Her 
engagement to Pembry was considered a social coup and then it was 
broken off two days after her disappearance.   She probably had cold 
feet, read the reaction in the newspaper, and was beside herself.  
There's your motive."
	"Committing suicide because of an engagement?  I don't 
think so.  Mulder, you said so yourself that Pembry junior wasn't 
exactly a girl's dream come true."  Scully replied, shaking her head.  
"Did you see that five weeks after her disappearance, Pembry senior 
filed for bankruptcy and Pembry junior left the country because of 'ill 
health'?  There's something else that happened to that woman, I'm 
sure of it."
	Mulder reached out and took Scully's shoulder in his hand, 
"You're really bothered by this, aren't you?"
	"Nooo.  I just find it...interesting.  That there may be a 
bigger story behind Laura's death other than a broken heart."
	"Well,"  Mulder replied, standing to stretch.  "I leave you to 
it.  I've got some paperwork I need to catch up on, but how 'bout I 
bring you the ballistic report when it comes in?"
	Scully smiled, "Yeah.  Thanks, Mulder."  She watched as 
Mulder made his way out of the FBI library, knowing that he was 
less than concerned about this sixty-year old mystery.  But there was 
something about it, something that intrigued Dana...   
	She stifled a yawn with the back of her hand and put her 
head down on her arms for a quick forty winks.  The thirties were 
such a glamorous, dangerous time, she thought.  Where nothing 
ever looked like it seemed...


	I knew he was the right type the minute I walked through the 
door.  He was tall, lanky, with sleepy eyes and sleepier lips.  He 
regarded me coolly and his nameplate simply said, "Mulder."
	"Your mother couldn't think of a first name?"  I asked, 
slipping into the chair in front of his desk and crossing my legs 
demurely.
	"You can take your pick of names...but call me Mulder."
	I smiled- he was a wise-guy.  "Okay, Mulder.  I've got a job 
for you."  I moved my purse into my lap, dragging a bit of the green 
silk of my skirt up to show a little knee.  Mulder's eyes darted 
downwards and I knew I had him.  "I hope you'll be able to take 
care of it."
	"I think we may be able to work...something out."
	
	That's how we met.  And two months later, our plan was 
ripe for the pickings.
	"Donald, have you got the papers?"
	"Yes, dear,"  Donald blubbered.  I took his pale face in my 
hands.
	"It's okay, darling.   There's nothing to worry about!"
	"But...if he found out these papers were missing, he'd kill 
me."
	I planted my lips on Donald's and knew I wouldn't have an 
argument from him for a least an hour.  "Donald, " I whispered into 
his ear,  "we'll be married...and we'll be rich."  I slapped him gently 
across his face.  "Now go home and talk to your old man.  We'll 
meet tomorrow, as planned."  He grabbed me with more gumption 
than I ever gave the poor sap credit for, giving me a kiss.  I pushed 
him away, roughly.  "We'll have time for that later.  Go home."  
Donald nodded eagerly and stumbled out the door.  I reached for my 
telephone.

	The ocean breeze stirred my hair and I waited, impatiently, 
for Mulder to arrive.  He had picked this out-of-the-way place for us 
to rendezvous.  Once together, we'd light out for Vegas or New 
York...I had in my purse papers that we would use to blackmail the 
Pembry's for a nice spot of dough.
	The black sedan skidded to a halt and he ran to me, 
sweeping me up in his arms for a long kiss.  "Did you get the 
papers?"  he murmured into my ear.
	"Yes."
	"Where?"
	I handed him the papers, which he looked over.  A grin 
spread slowly over his face and he slipped the packet into his 
pocket.  "Beautiful, doll."
	"Let's get out of here."  I made strides for the car when I felt 
a hand on my arm.
	"Not this time, kid."  I turned to Mulder, feeling my face 
grow hot.
	"What?!"  A cold barrel hit my ribs.
	"I've only got a plane ticket for one."
	I was stunned.   Numb.  But not unprepared.
	As Mulder backed away from me, a small .38 clenched in his 
palm, I spit at him, "Are you forgetting who's the brains of this 
outfit, Mulder?"  I put my hands on my hips, thinking only of the 
automatic in my side pocket.  "You won't get two miles before I sic 
the cops on you..."
	"Save it,"  Mulder replied, his sleepy features betraying no 
emotion.   "You don't think I didn't know you planned your own 
getaway?  Once I got you out of the state, that is.  I learned a long 
time ago, Red, that when you play with fire you get burned."
	The fact that he was right didn't faze me.  I decided to try a 
different tack.
	"But...what about us?"  I took a step closer to him.  His 
cheek twitched.
	"What about it?"
	"We are so  *good* together..."  I had his eye.  The moment 
was almost right...
	"We agreed from the beginning...just partners."
	"Just..." I said, pulling his head down to mine, "partners."  I 
felt his arm go around me and knew I had to take my chance at that 
moment.  I reached for my gun.
	There were two shots fired on the bluffs that day, scaring the 
seagulls into a squawking frenzy.  I felt his mouth go slack on mine 
and slid from his arms to the ground.  I had taken my chance...and 
had gotten some rotten luck. 
	"You..."  I rasped, fixing him with my eyes as the life poured 
out of me, "I'll see you again in..."  I couldn't form the last word in 
my mouth.  Mulder leaned over me, looking at me with those sad, 
puppy-dog eyes that I liked.  I could swear that the last words he 
said to me were...
	"Poor kid."

	"Hey, Scully.  Scully?"
	"Wha?"  Scully's head popped up, her neck feeling stiff and 
prickly.
	"You're drooling on your papers."
	"Ha ha.  I just was...getting forty winks."
	"More like forty hours."  Scully wiped the corner of her 
mouth and then she gripped the table edge, wide-eyed.
	"Mulder, I know what happened to Laura Carfax!"
	Mulder opened his mouth to protest, but Scully cut him 
short.
	"Listen!   There was a lover, they were going to run off 
together.  Pembry junior had given her papers that she planned to 
blackmail Pembry senior with.  She met her lover at the beach, 
planning to double-cross him, but he pulled a double-cross on him!  
Don't ya see it?"
	Mulder put his hand on Scully's forehead.  "Funny, you don't 
feel warm."
	Scully shook her head to clear it.  "I dunno, Mulder.  It just 
seems as clear as day.   There was...there was...."  Scully trailed off, 
frowning, as parts of her dream flitted through her mind.
	"Sounds like you had one heckuva dream.  But this should 
put matters to rest."
	"What is it?"  Scully asked, taking the papers Mulder handed 
to her.
	"Ballistics report.  The gun found at the scene *is* the gun 
that fired that casing.  Looks like a classic suicide case history.  
Sorry."
	Scully held the papers in her hands and pursed her lips.  
"Braughton can pronounce, then.  Strange."
	"Hmm?"  Mulder asked, looking at Scully carefully.
	"Oh,"  Scully said, standing.  "Strange what those old 
gangster movies can put in your head."
	"Come on, fellow flat-foot.  You can tell me about it over a 
cuppa joe."
	Scully smiled and walked with Mulder out the door, 
wondering just what she would say.

The End.

comments, please! to:  pli@channelone.com or pli@juno.com