REPOST: Trace Evidence Coda: Penance and Lamentation (1/3) Saundra Mitchell (S/CRA)
Vampyres Incorporeal
Title: Trace Evidence Coda: Penance
and Lamentation (1/3)
Author: Saundra Mitchell
E-Mail: v...@netdirect.net
Feedback: Please!
Archive: Yes
Category: S/CRA (Scully/Other)
Rating: PG-13
Spoilers: Current Seasons for both
shows
Original Posting:
alt.tv.x-files.creative, X-Files Fanfic List, 11 Cents
Keywords: Scully, Munch, follow up, X
files, homicide, crossover, romance,
angst
Disclaimer: Scully, Mulder, Skinner
and "The X-Files" are copyrighted by
1013 Productions. The cast of
"Homicide: Life on the Street"
including Bayliss, Pembleton, Munch
et al, are copyrighted by Baltimore
Pictures. "Trace Evidence" and
"Lament and Prayer" are copyright
1998, Saundra Mitchell. All rights
reserved by the respective companies
and author.
Notes: This story picks up the
evening following the events in "Say
Goodnight"
"But I will not take my love from
him, nor will I ever betray my
faithfulness."
-Psalms 89:33
Baltimore, Maryland
The Waterfront
Scully tightened the belt of her
jacket, taking a deep breath before
opening the door to the bar. She
could see Tim tending bar inside, and
hoped she hadn't wasted her time. As
she opened the door, a handful of
faces turned to look up at her.
Ignoring the dire sense of
misplacement, she walked inside and
stood uncomfortably at the counter.
"Dana," Tim nodded, not looking
up at her.
She glanced away, stiffening her
resolve. "I was looking for John."
"Kitchen."
She murmured her thanks and
headed for the kitchen without
another word. She could tell by
Bayliss' strangely hard face and
inflectionless words that her partner
(former partner, she reminded
herself) had told him only his half
of their story. Shrugging off his
anger, she pushed her way into the
kitchen. Stepping carefully around
the cooks at the fryers, she searched
for Munch's familiar face. The crack
of grease popping assaulted her ears,
and the heat wilted her.
"Wedges," she heard him
complain. "Not slices. Slices are for
iced tea and facials, neither of
which we provide at this fine
establishment."
Following his voice, she turned
the corner to find him hovering over
one of the new kitchen staff,
demonstrating his preferred method of
lime sectioning. Almost as if he
sensed her presence, he looked up
when she came into view. Putting the
knife down with a quiet admonition to
get it right or else, he crossed the
small distance between them. Her
resolve crumbled, and she fell into
his arms, sobbing.
"Honey, what's wrong," he
whispered, smoothing her hair with
his spidery hands.
"I can't talk here," she choked,
pulling back and angrily wiping away
her tears.
Munch thought quickly. Wendi was
in the office ordering supplies, the
bathrooms probably weren't a good
choice for a heart-to-heart, and the
front was definitely out of the
question. A sudden inspiration hit
him. Putting his arm around her
shoulders, he led her into the walk-
in freezer, closing the door behind
them. Turning over a pair of egg
crates, he motioned for her to sit
next to him. A weak smile set on her
lips, but folded into tears again as
she sat down.
"I don't know what I'm going to
do, where I'm going to go," she
blithered, opening and closing her
hands as she spoke. "My career is . .
and I can't believe he . . . "
Munch leaned over, taking her
hands in his. "Slow down."
"Have you talked to Tim?"
He shook his head. "Everyone's
favorite martyr has been especially
tight lipped today."
Drawing a deep, shuddering
breath, she tried to draw on her
reserve of calm. "I requested a
transfer."
"Why?"
"He used me," she sobbed, and
the rest of the words came in a rush.
Everything, from her abduction, her
sterility, and the terrible
realization not 48 hours before that
the one constant in her whole
experience with the X files had been
wrapped in the greatest of lies. He
listened passively, only squeezing
her hand when she needed it to go on.
When she finally wound down, he had
nothing to say that could comfort
her.
"Can I help," he asked, unsure
of his place in this situation.
She nodded, pulling herself to
her feet. She was a little
embarrassed; she hadn't come here to
cry on his shoulder. "I need your
help."
"Anything you need," he said,
standing. "I'll help."
Reaching into her pocket, she
pulled out an envelope. "Find out who
she was, John. I can't . . . I can't
do it myself, I'm not objective. I
have to know."
Pulling a photograph from the
envelope, he looked up at her,
confused. "It's you."
"She only looks like me," Scully
said softly, letting her hand slip
out of his.
Later
Glancing at his watch, Frank
scowled. No one with any sense would
be knocking at his door at this hour,
and he was fully prepared to send the
offender away with a few choice
words. Swinging open the door, his
irritation failed him.
"I was afraid you wouldn't speak
to me if I didn't come here in
person," Scully said. Her face and
voice were penitent.
"Frank, who is it," Mary called
from the kitchen.
He eyed Scully, then looked back
into the house. "Work. I'll be right
back." Stepping out into the night,
he held the door mostly closed.
"Well?"
Looking past him, she shook her
head. "I'm sorry."
He raised his eyebrows,
incredulous. "You're sorry? That's
it? You're sorry?"
"I was wrong, and I'm sorry."
"You're damned right you were
wrong," he spat. "Why didn't you pick
up the phone? You were still at
Munch's that morning." He sucked a
breath sharply through his teeth.
"You're lucky that Bayliss finally
coughed up the truth, Dana, because
if I'd had to tell Olivia about this,
you _would_ be in that plot."
She shook her head. "We were
already gone, Frank. I didn't know
you'd called."
"So what you're telling me," he
said, winding up. "Is that the phone
lines from Washington to Baltimore
suddenly evaporated?"
Struggling to keep her
composure, she fished another
photograph from her pocket. Holding
it up for him to see, she set her
jaw. "I didn't want something like
this to happen to your family."
He took the picture from her and
examined it. Somehow, she'd managed
to liberate one of the photos from
the crime scene, and now he held it
in his hands. He'd seen glossies like
this a hundred times before, but this
one turned his stomach. Shoving it
back into her grasp, he narrowed his
eyes. "Why are you here, Dana?"
"Because I couldn't live with
myself if I didn't try to explain,"
she murmured. "I know who my real
friends are now."
There was something about the
raw edge in her voice that softened
his ire. "You left the x files." It
was a guess, but from the pinched
expression it produced, he knew he
was right. "Come in."
"I'd better not," she sighed,
shaking her head.
"Oh, I insist." His tone implied
that this was her only chance to make
amends. He opened the door for her,
and she slipped inside silently.
(End Part One)