Date: Wed, 28 Apr 1999 01:35:17 PDT
Subject: New: Stakeout (1/1)


TITLE: Stakeout (1/1)
AUTHOR: Shoshana
EMAIL ADDRESS: shoshana1013@excite.com
DISTRIBUTION STATEMENT: Anywhere 
SPOILER WARNING: Milagro. 
RATING: PG-13
CONTENT WARNING: Language
CLASSIFICATION: S
KEYWORDS: Mulder/Scully UST
SUMMARY: Mulder and Scully stake out a suspect's home. 
DISCLAIMER: These characters do not belong to me.
FEEDBACK: Would love it. 

Stakeout
By Shoshana
    
     Agent Mulder sighed heavily, idly playing with the keys in the steering
wheel.  They had been staked out in front of this guy's house for eight
hours now and he was seriously questioning this assignment.  His only
consolation was Scully, resting peacefully, next to him.  He wasn't planning
on waking her up, even though she had insisted on pulling her own weight on
this case.  Let her sleep awhile longer, he certainly wasn't tired.  Just
frustrated that their prime suspect hadn't come home yet.  He was wanted for
the mutilation of several security guards at shopping malls in the Boston
area.

     They were all brutal murders in rich suburban enclaves, all in the wee
hours of the morning, all sharing the same common elements.  All were
suffocated to death, approached from behind by a large, strong man.  Each of
the three victims had their midsection precisely sliced and diced like the
lattice pattern on top of Grandma's apple pie.  On the shiny, marble floors
next to them were the words "evil men do," written in the hapless victim's
own blood.
  
     Mulder had recognized those words immediately.  They were a variation
of Mark Antony's line in the famous 'Friends, Romans, countrymen' soliloquy
from "Julius Caesar."  Every goddam serial killer these days craved
profundity, he thought grimly.  Well, at least we know he made it through
high school, he mused.  If they even taught Shakespeare there anymore.

     Anyway, they had spent the day consulting with the Danvers and Peabody
police.  Scully had gotten a look at the bodies, already autopsied by local
coroners.  They would visit Burlington tomorrow as they had only arrived in
this area that afternoon.  He agreed that Shakespearean quotes were not
customarily left behind at crime scenes.  And the killer was skillful with a
knife.  But an X-File?  He thought not.  He thought that the F.B.I. was just
paying its dues, having had local assistance nabbing a vicious kidnapper
last year.
  
     Partial plate numbers had been spotted by a witness, on his morning jog
around the perimeter of the mall. He had gotten a good, clear look at a man
in an old pickup truck, speeding off into the three a.m. mist.  And those
plate numbers had eventually led to this rundown house on Lake street in
Waterline.  Mulder sat restlessly next to his snoozing partner, debating
whether this was even worth the trouble.  The guy is probably in California
by now, if he reads the papers at all.  The murders had been big news in
this relatively crime-free area and bizarre enough for he and Scully to get
first dibs on the case.

     This was their first little trip outside D.C. since Scully came back to
work.  After almost having her heart ripped out by a writer of purple prose,
she had taken some vacation time and visited Bill and Tara in San Diego.  He
had encouraged her to take some of those carefully hoarded hours and use
them for a substantial break.  She appeared rested, yet preoccupied when she
came back to work.  Toward the end of the week, they were speaking a lot
more, laughing occasionally, and able to talk about the Philip Padgett case
with apparent ease.  He thought she'd have some nightmares, if not now, most
likely in the future.  He'd suggested a counselor and she had for once not
given him any resistance to that idea.
 
     He was determined not to let Scully see a fraction of doubt from him
about her effectiveness in the field.  He genuinely had no doubt that she
would bounce back, rejuvenated, ready to go.  It was his own sorry self he
worried about.  He had rashly left her alone that day, pursuing Padgett and
leaving her to the mercy of whatever evil slithered her way.  It was his own
hesitation that scared the shit out of him now.  If he should falter, let
her know that he was loath to leave her alone, she would kick his ass (well
figuratively) back to D.C. with gusto.  And she knew him so well, for so
long, that he'd have to don a virtual poker-face twenty-four hours a day to
escape her wrath.
   
     He glanced over at the house, detecting movement within.  Ah hell, here
we go.
  
     "Scully, Scully. Heads up!" he said, tugging at her arm as gently as he
could.

     "Huh...," she said sleepily.  "Alright I'm coming, I'm up!"     She sat
up suddenly and literally shook the cobwebs out of her mind.

     "There's movement over there," he said quietly.

     "Ya think it's him?" she said while trying to suppress one last yawn.

     "Don't know, but it's the only thing I've seen for eight hours."

     "Why didn't you wake me, Mulder?  To take over for you?"

     "Ah, you needed your beauty sleep.  Not that you aren't beautiful if
you don't get it," he said with a grin.

     "Thank you, Mulder.  But all sentiments aside I'd prefer if you'd wake
me up from now on.  I know your tendency to doze off in strange places."

     "Speak for yourself, champion dozer.  Let's get going now that you've
had a chance to wake up.  I'll get the back if you'll take the front."

     They left the car with stealth and followed the shadows of the street
over to the house.  A light now shone in the back kitchen area.  Scully
crouched down near the front windows, next to the front door.  Mulder went
around back to investigate the glowing room beyond.  When he came around the
rear of the house, a dog started barking.  Ah shit, he said to himself.  Why
didn't we hear the damn dog earlier?  They'd lost all hope of a furtive
approach.  He moved swiftly, smoothly to the back door and shouted clearly,
"Federal Agent, come out of the house now!"
  
     The occupant of the residence fled through the house, racing toward the
front door.  When he got there, he was stopped short by the steady,
determined figure of Dana Scully, staring him down with her weapon.
"Federal Agent!  Stop right there!" she ordered.  The man stopped dead in
his tracks, apparently without a weapon, and savvy enough to heed the
agent's crystal clear tone.
 
     Mulder raced back around to witness a familiar tableau, Scully had
detained the suspect with no difficulty whatsoever.  He was relieved as
hell, trying his damnedest not to show it.  Scully glanced over and saw
visible and quite joyous relief plastered all over his face for the briefest
of seconds, until Mulder melted into a deadpan scowl.  She cracked a smile,
gun still trained on the suspect, and said, "Hey Mulder, got some handcuffs
for this guy?" 
 
     "Yeah, um, sure.  Sure, Scully," he said, coming around her, cuffs in
hand.  As he arrested the suspect, who bore a remarkable resemblance to the
eyewitness description, he chastised himself for his ever so slight
misgivings concerning Scully's mental state.  Oh, shit.  She thinks that I
think that she's not, that she couldn't, that she...why am I so fucking
transparent to her anymore?  Well, at least she seems amused.

     They took the guy down to the local P.D., filled out some paperwork and
walked back to the car in silence.  After ten minutes of silent driving to
the motel du jour, they pulled into their parking place and stopped the
engine.

     "So, Mulder, you seemed awful happy to see me when you came running
around the corner of that house," she said, gently taunting him.

     "Scully, it's not what you think.  I do not doubt your ability to back
me up for one New York minute.  It's me, all me.  I'm the coward.  I need
the time to adapt.  Well, actually I shouldn't need any time, I can see that
now.  Maybe I should have seen a counselor, like you did.  Call me asshole,
kick my rear back to D.C., I deserve it."

     "If I had known that I could get this grovelling guilt trip out of you
so easily, I would have conjured it up long ago," she said, smiling wryly.

     He pouted with false indignation, grabbing her hand and holding it
firmly in his own.  "I was just happy to see things back to normal.  I can't
help wanting to protect you, you know that.  It was just that Padgett case.
I was probably more affected than I care to admit, even to myself.  I
thought I could disguise concern from you, but you are too damn
perceptive."

     She chuckled softly, touched by his sincerity.  He released her hand
and crossed his arms in a defensive posture.
  
     "I'm glad you think it's funny.  I'll crawl back into my hole now.
Thank you."

     "I'm not laughing at you, Mulder.  I'm glad you care so much about me.
It's just that your expression was too damned precious to ignore back there.
You looked like you'd won the lottery tonight."

     "I always feel like a winner if you're O.K., Scully," he said gravely.
He picked her hand up off the seat and gave it a light kiss.  "Come on,
let's go find something to celebrate my prize with."