From: Isahunter@aol.com Date: Sat, 9 Jan 1999 12:52:03 EST Subject: Fwd: Revenge (1/1) by Diadem From: "Diadem" To: Isahunter@aol.com Date: Sat, 9 Jan 1999 13:24:41 -0000 Subject: Revenge (1/1) by Diadem Priority: normal X-mailer: Pegasus Mail for Win32 (v3.01b) Message-ID: <0d4af2122130919DEEPTHOUGHT@cwcom.net> Mime-Version: 1.0 Content-type: text/plain; charset=US-ASCII Content-transfer-encoding: 7bit Title - Revenge Author - Diadem Category - MSR? V, H Rating - Hmmm... PG-13? Call it R to be on the safe side Feedback - Yes please! But DO NOT HIT REPLY!! All feed back to Diadem@cwcom.net Disclaimer - Mulder, Scully, and the X-Files belong to CC, 10:13 and Fox - I love them, and would never do anything to hurt them, and remember, immitation is the sincerest form of flattery! For Isa: thanks a million for posting, and for being the world's best encouragement factory! Revenge by Diadem As far as Dana Scully was concerned, a bath was one of the best methods of relaxing. Hot water, plenty of bath oils and mountains of bubbles, a CD playing softly somewhere in the background, soothing her into a state of semi-consciousness. The only problem was, she had to go to work. It wasn't that she didn't enjoy her work: she did. It was the only thing that kept her sane in the otherwise crazy world she had been plunged in to nearly seven years ago. The X-Files were her life. After every single tragedy she had had to face, she could be sure of returning to work, and being able to put her problems aside as she worked with her partner, fighting against unseen powers to find the truth. But she wasn't working on the X-Files at the moment. The Violent Crimes Section had requested her assistance on a case in Utah, involving eighteen murders. Pretty run of the mill stuff, and, more importantly, it meant that she was working fixed hours: nine til five, and no early morning wake up calls from Mulder, at least for this week. Which was why she had time to relax in a hot bath before work. Actually, she reflected, it wasn't that hot any more. It was fast approaching the stage where the water was too cold to stay in the bath, but the room was too cold to get out. Mustering all her will power, Scully flung a leg over the side of the tub. She was rubbing her hair with a towel - a nice thick towel: the VSC could certainly pick hotels, not like a certain person she knew - when she heard her cell phone ring from the other room. Abandonning her hair, she wrapped the towel around herself, and padded out of the bathroom. It wasn't on the bedside cabinet, it wasn't in her briefcase, so that left only her jacket. Rifling through the pockets, she eventually came up with the offending article, and pushed "Talk." "Scully." Standard greeting, not exactly sociable, but functional. "Scully, it's me." Mulder. And he sounded happy. "Mulder, I'm on a case out here. I can't come running back so that you can drag me along on a werewolf hunt, or something." She turned round to the mirror, and started tugging a brush through her hair. "Scully, I'm hurt." His tone took on a whine. "I just called to check on my favourite partner." "Yeah, right." "It's true!" He sounded indignant. Good. There was always an ulterior motive to his calls. "OK, OK!" She laughed. "So what are you working on at the moment?" She started to unwind her towel. "Oh, nothing much. You know how it is, I, er...." "Mulder?" No answer. "Mulder?" "Uh, yeah?" "Mulder, are you all right?" She stopped brushing, and concentrated on his voice. If this was his plan to get her back to DC, he wasn't going to pull it off. "I'm uh, fine. Sorry. Got distracted there for a minute." And it probably had legs up it's neck, Scully thought, viciously. "Well, that's OK then." She returned her gaze to the mirror. "But you must be working on something." Hold on a minute. She picked up her hair brush, but she stared past her reflection, and fixed her attention on the window. Mulder was babbling on about mutilated sheep in Arizona... The bastard! He was! He was staring through her window! He'd come all the way to Utah, and he was staring through her window! "Well, that sounds really interesting, Mulder." She sent up a silent prayer that she didn't sound as flustered as she felt. Her first instinct was to try to cover herself up: her towel lay in a heap at her feet. But he had already seen everything. She idly wondered just how long he had been standing there. "Sarcasm is the lowest form of communication, Scully." He scolded her. "Well in my opinion it ranks above calling your partner when she is trying to get ready for work." She retorted, as she strode across the room towards her suitcase. Years of travelling with Mulder had taught her not to bother unpacking: she would more than likely be in another state by the next night. "Yeah, I, uh, um..." "Mulder, all these distractions can't be good for you. Maybe I'd better let you go, so you can give them your undivided attention." "Uh, no. I'm fine, Scully." He really was trying to sound unfazed, she had to credit him with that. "I'm here now. Only you now. I've, uh, locked the door." "Well, thanks, I think!" She joked, as she rummaged through her clothes. She wasn't even sure they were in here any more... Aha! Grinning to herself, but at the same time keeping a neutral look on her face, she pulled the stockings out of her case, and layed them on the bed, next to the suit she had put out earlier. "So tell me more about this sheep case." "Not much to say." He answered, and she heard him gasp slightly as she lay back on the bed, but she chose not to comment on it. "Every five years, thirteen sheep are ritually sacrificed, but no one knows whom by." She slid the nylon up to her knee. "Um, where was I?" "No one knows who slaughters them." She offered. She raised her leg, and ran her hand down towards her thigh to straighten out the material. "Hmmm?" Good one, Mulder. "The sheep, Mulder. No one knows who killed them." God, she was having fun. All the times she had sworn revenge, and now it was hers. "Oh, uh. Yes. That's right." "Go on, then." She started on the other leg, giving it the same treatment as the first. She felt a little silly, wearing nothing but her stockings, but it was winding Mulder up something chronic. "Um, well, um, people have said, er, since it began in, um, er, 1961, that it could have been aliens." "Aliens? Mulder, even you can't possiby believe that aliens have been kidnapping sheep." "Why not?" He answered. His voice had grown much clearer. Damn! "Why not?" She picked up her panties, and threw them back into the suitcase, eliciting a gasp from the phone. "Mulder, are you sure you are OK? You sound a little wheezy." She commented. He gave a little cough. "I'm fine." She picked up her bra, and considerd it carefully. She dearly wanted to give it the same treatment as the panties, but she somehow suspected that someone in the VCS might notice, and she knew beyond a doubt that she would have to shoot the perpetrator. Safer to keep it, she decided. "So, are we due for a trip to Arizona? Is the five years nearly up?" She asked, and she deftly fastened the clasp, and reached for her blouse. "Um, no. It was just one of the files I'm re-cataloguing. Not due again until 2001." He answered. "There's another one, though, turtles this time, down in Florida, that's due later this year. Fancy a trip?" "Why not?" She finished the buttons on the blouse, and slipped her skirt on. "Just don't you dare take it out of my vacation time!" "Wouldn't dream of it." He was sounding a little breathless. She would have to do something about that later. Right now, however, she was late for work. Glancing at the clock, she cursed loudly. "Scully, are you OK?" "Yeah, sorry, I just noticed the time. I'm late for work, I have to go, but I'll talk to you later, OK?" She grabbed her jacket, while at the same time stuffing her feet into the nearest pair of shoes. "Take care!" And she hung up, tucking the phone back into her pocket. Her briefcase was just inside the door, and she used it to push the door open, just as Mulder raised his hand to knock. "May I escort you to the morgue, my lady?" He appeared a little flushed, but, all things considered, he had recovered pretty well, she had to admit. "Certainly, my Lord." She smiled enigmatically at him, raising he eyebrows as she saw him gulp, and handed him her briefcase, as she locked the door behind her. End Well, hopefully that one will stop eating its way through my skull now! Feedback hungrily devoured! Diadem@cwcom.net