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."
     
fin