[all-xf] New: "Immortal Beloved", MSR, Casefile (4 of ?)
Paige
Author: Paige Caldwell
Email: paig...@yahoo.com
Classification: MSR, Casefile, Angst
Spoilers: Season Four, Post "Momento Mori"
Rating: R
Disclaimers: The characters belong to 1013. No
infringement intended.
Summary: I have traveled both time and
distance to find her...
My Immortal Beloved.
For previous sections to this WIP, once posted
please visit my webpage at:
Part 4 of ?
Mulder glanced at his watch before reaching into
his bag of sunflower seeds. It was almost midnight.
He was parked across the street from Senator
Wingate's home, having outmaneuvered the media,
his partner as well as his own conscience. As he
cracked open a seed, he hoped that the salt of
the kernel would overpower the bad taste in his
mouth. He knew the flavor of guilt. Over the
years, Scully had brought out the connoisseur in
him.
He wondered why she hadn't called. It had been
hours since he had sent her on her wild artist
chase. It wasn't like her not to check in.
Maybe, she was using silence to paint a portrait
of him, a caricature of a man whose morals had
been abducted by his ambition. Oh God. He deserved
to be mocked. Ditching Scully had become a flat
joke with a routine punch line, one that he now
regretted.
In the darkness of his car, Mulder reconsidered
the abduction of Katherine Wingate. He had no
solid proof of alien involvement, just an
influential woman ready to endorse it. For all
he knew, Katherine could have been taken by the
same men responsible for Scully's cancer. They
could have been interested in harvesting more
than the ova of a Senator's daughter. Perhaps
they were interested in cultivating the Senator's
cooperation.
This was an attractive theory for it suited all
of Mulder's purposes. He could achieve validation
and still pursue a cure to Scully's illness. What
he didn't understand is why a "win-win" situation
left him feeling like such a loser. Was guilt
more terminal than cancer? It must be, for he
suffered all the physical ailments; a dry mouth,
shaky hands and a tightening of his chest.
Reaching for his soda, Mulder took a sip and
repeated to himself,
"If there's an ice tea in that bag, it could be
love."
"Must be fate, Mulder. Root beer."
He changed beverage choices the next day. She
never noticed. He should have known better
than to use carbonated symbolism on a scientist.
She should have known better than to get mixed
up with a man whose emotions were as stagnant
as the dank air of a late-night stakeout.
When his cell phone chirped, Mulder almost
spilled the soda all over himself trying to
answer it.
"Mulder, it's me."
"You okay, Scully?"
"Not really..." There was hesitation in her
voice. "If it's not too late, Mulder, do you
think you could come over?"
"It's never too late," he said. "I'll be right
over."
Mulder arrived at Scully's apartment to find her
standing outside in the hallway. She was in yellow
pajamas and a matching terrycloth robe. She looked
dressed for bed but too terrified to get into it.
When he asked her what was wrong, she simply pointed
at the open door to her apartment. Peeking inside,
he found the portrait of Katherine Wingate sneering
at him across the living room.
"I don't get it," he shrugged.
"She's smiling, Mulder."
He took another look. "No, she's not, but then
neither am I. This whole portrait thing is getting
out of hand, Scully. I'm worried about you."
"You're kidding me, right?" She asked, moving past
him and confronting the portrait with both of her
hands on her hips.
"No, I really am worried about you." Mulder followed
her into the apartment and shut the door behind him.
Scully pointed an accusing finger at the portrait.
"She was smiling at me, Mulder. From the minute I
left Dante's studio to just now, she was grinning
like a Cheshire cat."
"Scully in Wonderland," he murmured on his way to
her kitchen. "Why don't I make us some tea while you
tell me about your art suspect."
"I'm not sure if he is a suspect," admitted Scully,
sitting down at the kitchen table. "But, he certainly
is mysterious."
Mulder filled the kettle with water and placed it
on a gas burner. "In a creepy, wish-I-had-taken-
my-partner kind of way?"
"Not really," she paused and flicked imaginary
crumbs from the table. "His eyes... his manner
of speech... it was all so suggestive."
He almost dropped the teacups into the sink. "Of
what?"
"Of having known me."
"You mean that he had met you before?"
"That's just it," Scully remarked. "I've never
met this man before. Trust me, Mulder, I wouldn't
have forgotten someone like him."
"That interesting, huh?" The cups on the counter
rattled.
"Who said I was interested in him?" she retorted,
getting up from the chair.
"That's not what I said or meant," Mulder
reassured her. "You're intrigued by him."
Scully sighed and sat back down. "The only man
who has ever intrigued me is about to break my
antique china."
Mulder steadied the teacups on the counter.
"Sorry."
"No, I am," she apologized. "This whole day has
left me feeling jumpy."
For the next few minutes, neither spoke as he
prepared hot tea sweetened with honey. She sipped
it gingerly before encouraging him to join her at
the table. "So, tell me about your afternoon," she
invited. "How goes your alien hunt?"
"Not well," Mulder replied. He took off his jacket
and draped it over the back of the chair. "There
are certain things that just don't add up."
"Such as?"
"I've interviewed the Senator's household staff.
No one reports anything unusual happening that
morning. There was no noise, no bright lights or
walls shaking. Alien abductions are not quiet
events. A disturbance is always noted, either
before or after."
"Maybe the disturbance is in the Senator," Scully
commented.
"What do you mean?" he asked.
"Emotional upset can often distort one's perception
of things," she explained. "Despite evidence to the
contrary, Senator Wingate truly believes that she saw
Katherine disappear."
"You see changes of expression in an oil painting," he
returned. "Want to tell me what's bothering you?"
When she didn't answer, Mulder reached across the
table and took her hand. She weaved her fingers
through his. "Mulder, I wasn't going to tell you.
However, if I'm becoming delusional, then you need
to know ."
He cut her off before she could finish. "You're
not delusional, Scully."
"Mulder, please," she pleaded. "Look at me and tell
me what you see."
He glanced up, hoping his eyes didn't convey the
fear that he felt. "You look fine, Scully."
"That's just great," she complained bitterly.
"A complete stranger takes one look at me and tells
me that I'm dying. But, you think I look fine."
"You're not dying!" He rose so quickly from his
chair that it screeched across the kitchen floor.
"I refuse to believe that, Scully."
Scully closed her eyes and sighed. "Emotional upset
can often distort one's perception on things," she
repeated.
Mulder went around to her side of the table and
knelt down beside her. When she didn't look up,
he turned her chair so she was forced to face him.
"Scully, listen to me. Or better yet, remember your
own words. People live with cancer. They carry on,
and so will you."
"People also die of cancer." She placed a hand
on his shoulder. "Will you be able to carry on?"
Mulder cringed from her touch, stunned that she
had asked such a morbid question. Carry on without
her? He was still trying to carry on with the fact
that he'd fallen in love with her. He couldn't
imagine his life without Scully. He might wish
her temporarily mute or that her stoic rationalism
might vacation in Tibet, but nothing so permanent
that he would have to remember what he once tried
to forget. He was in love with her.
"Hey Scully!" He jumped to his feet and went
over to Katherine's portrait. "Why don't I take
old Kate down to the Bureau lab? I bet they can
come up with a logical explanation for what you're
seeing."
She didn't respond. Her hands had fallen helplessly
into her lap, palms facing upward in open defeat.
It was a hard image to behold much less cause. He
tried to lighten her mood by sparking her intellectual
curiosity.
"Maybe the paint colors produce some type of
optical illusion," he suggested.
Scully blinked, registering a flicker of interest.
"Then why don't you see it?" she asked.
"I'm colorblind," he grinned.
Her smirk was worth noticing, if not framing.
Mulder then realized where he had seen it before.
He glanced down at Katherine's portrait and then
up at his partner.
"The two of you really do look alike," he said.
**************
The next morning, Scully went window shopping at
the galleries on 29th street. Within minutes, she
realized that she couldn't have appeared more obvious.
It was pouring rain. She had no umbrella. Her
preparations were as makeshift as her excuse for
conducting this surveillance. She no longer
considered Dante a suspect. She decided to follow
him for another reason.
Dante saw what her partner refused to see. She
wanted to know more about the artist, his ability
to capture life on canvas yet recognize the look
of death. But, it was more than that. She had
just been emotionally jilted by Mulder, leaving
her desperate enough to seek out empathy from
another source.
She waited for him under a dripping awning of a
gallery storefront. Just when wet and miserable
began to compete for her attention, she spotted
his reflection in the window. She cleared her
throat loudly, signaling her presence before he
could pass her by.
"We meet again, Dana." Dante smiled and glanced
over her shoulder at the window display. "In
search of an objet d'art?"
Scully turned around and met his gaze with her
direct one.
"Of course, not," he said. "You're searching
for answers."
"Yes, Katherine is still missing," she told him.
"Let us not pretend that is the reason you are
here." When she didn't respond, Dante pointed down
the street. "There is a cafe around the corner that
serves espresso. You look cold and tired. Perhaps,
you will join me in a cup?"
His old-world charm did not impress her. She
stepped out into the rain, no longer caring if she
got soaked. "I'm dying," she said bluntly.
Dante took off his jacket, using it to keep her dry.
"Yes, I know," he replied. "For some of us, death
is not the end. It is only a beginning."
To Be Continued....
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