[all-xf] New: "Immortal Beloved", MSR, Casefile (3 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 3 of ?
"I know what I saw," Scully insisted as they drove
back to the Hoover Building. Mulder didn't respond.
He knew what he had seen, too. Scully had stained
more than the Senator's carpet. Her remarks about
the portrait had stained her credibility.
If only she had added a disclaimer, such as "I
thought I saw" or "Maybe my little nosebleed went
straight to my head..." But no, Scully wasn't
a proviso kind of partner. She was all or nothing,
which explained why he decided to remove her from
the scene before she tarnished his theory, as well.
He glanced into the rear-view mirror at the portrait
in the back seat. "She's still sneering," he teased.
When Scully didn't answer, he waited for a few
minutes and peeked again. "Still sneering..." he
chanted.
"Would it kill you to just humor me a little?" she
asked.
"I think I humored you a lot when I agreed to let
Katherine's portrait tag along with us."
"I know what I saw," she repeated, folding her
arms stubbornly.
"What do you want from me, Scully?" he whined.
"For you to remember that the X-files are not just
about alien abduction," she said.
He applied the brakes with more force than he
intended. The car came to a screeching halt.
"You're kidding, right? Senator Wingate, who just
happens to be a very powerful woman, is about to
confirm the existence of extraterrestrials, not
to mention validate years of painstaking work."
"Your painstaking work, your quest, your Holy
Grail," exploded Scully, tightening her seat belt
angrily. "But that validation will mean nothing
if you don't rule out other possibilities. God,
Mulder! The artist who painted Katherine's
portrait was there just minutes before her
disappearance. Don't you think we should
interview him, at least?"
Mulder searched for a reason. "The Senator told
me that he just left the portrait at the door.
He never stepped foot into the house."
"So that rules him out?" she scoffed.
"What are you implying, Scully?" he asked. "That
the portrait is some kind of ransom note?"
"You're the profiler," she answered. "You tell
me."
Mulder pulled the sedan over to the curb and got
out. "This is just great," he fumed, slamming the
door behind him. He began to pace the length of
the car, back and forth, as his mind raced through
more possibilities than even Scully could have
imagined. He couldn't help it. Just as it was
her nature to debate his every theory, it was his
nature to come up with several more than she did.
Further down the street, he noticed another vehicle
pull over to the curb. At first, Mulder suspected
that they were being tailed by the Consortium. He
was tempted to tap on the car window and point it
out to Scully. When he realized it was the Channel
9 minivan, most likely following them for a lead,
he grinned and got back into the car.
"You're right," Mulder said in the most conciliatory
tone he could imagine. "This Italian artist... what
is his name?"
"I don't know his first name. His last name is
Dante."
Mulder started the car. "Shouldn't take you long to
find out his last name," he replied. Before she could
object, he motioned over his shoulder. "Take a look
at who's following us."
Scully leaned up and peeked in the rear-view mirror.
"The press?" she asked.
He nodded and pulled out into traffic. "I'll divert
them while you check out Mr. Dante. The last thing
we need is the media scaring off a suspect."
When Scully agreed, he smiled inwardly. He wasn't
worried about reporters. What he feared the most was
that Scully might scare off the Senator. By giving
in a little, he would gain a lot. He could focus
on Katherine's abduction while Scully was off
investigating the smearing properties of oil paints.
If he was lucky, she would come back with an apology
and a black velvet painting of Elvis.
*********
Within a few hours, Scully had obtained a detailed
background on the artist who painted Katherine's
portrait. Alessandro Dante was born and raised
in a small village in Tuscany. Despite an ordinary
if not obscure beginning, he rose to quick prominence
among the Florentine intelligentsia. By age 19,
artists and art lovers alike were astounded by
his technique. He was as changeable as he was
exciting, skilled in several art movements.
But two decades later, even his avant-garde style
had become predictable. He immigrated to the
United States for a new beginning. He found it
as a freelance portrait artist. Through Katherine
Wingate, he had been introduced to the National
Museum of Art. On his own, he had established
a reputation for painting the wives of the
beltway's elite.
His studio was on 29th street in Georgetown, an
old office building which had been renovated into
galleries and boutiques. As Scully climbed the
stairs to Dante's loft studio, she imagined the
cluttered space of an eccentric has-been. She
was surprised to find that his studio was large,
open and spacious. It spanned the entire second
floor of the building and was stylishly designed.
The back wall had been replaced with a window that
rose floor to ceiling. The effect was dramatic, but
not as dramatic as the loft's owner.
Standing directly in front of the immense window
was Alessandro Dante, who used the amber light of
the setting sun to illuminate his canvas. He looked
exactly the way she imagined a Bohemian artist would
look; shoulder-length hair and piercing black eyes.
She was glad that his stare was directed at his
canvas because there was one important detail that
his background check didn't mention. The portrait
artist liked to paint in the nude.
No wonder he was popular among the ladies, she mused
before loudly clearing her throat.
Dante put down his brush and reached for a black, silk
robe. He took his time putting it on before turning
around to greet her. For a moment, neither one of them
spoke. He wore the expression of sudden recognition.
His gaze held such fascination that she couldn't tear
her eyes away from his. "You are not who I expected,"
he said with a barely discernable Italian accent.
"Apparently not," she said, pulling out her badge.
"Special Agent Dana Scully with the FBI."
He approached her slowly to take a look at her
credentials. "Well, Special Agent Dana Scully. Are
you to arrest me for indecent exposure?"
She closed her badge cover. "No, Mr. Dante. I'm here
to question you about Katherine Wingate's disappearance."
"Disappearance?" The artist appeared genuinely surprised.
"That cannot be. I just saw her a day ago."
"When you delivered her portrait?"
Dante nodded and returned to his easel. He stared
incredulously at the canvas. "That cannot be..." he
repeated.
For a suspect, he wore the role of victim quite well.
For a moment, Scully thought she saw tears glaze over
his dark eyes. "Mr. Dante, were you involved with
Ms. Wingate?"
"Involved?" The artist looked up. "Of course. A portrait
artist is always involved with his subject."
"No, that's not what I meant," Scully tried to explain.
"Were you romantically involved with Katherine Wingate?"
"Ah, you want to know if I slept with her." The man finally
understood. "Dana - may I call you Dana? I should think I
might since you feel familiar enough to ask me about my sex
life."
Scully fumbled for the right words to make up for his wrong
impression. "That's not why asked, Mr. Dante."
"Of course not," he said. "You are trying to figure out if
I am a suspect."
"Are you?"
"No to both of your questions." The man was emphatic. "Do you
have any more?"
She had several. "Where did you go directly after you dropped
off Katherine's portrait yesterday? Also, why don't you sign
your portraits?"
"Anything else?"
"Just one more." Scully felt more uncomfortable asking this
question than she did his sex life.
"Why do I paint in the nude?"
"I wasn't going to ask that," she said, resisting the urge to
fan her face.
"It's easier to clean up afterwards," he volunteered.
"That's nice." She only hoped that she didn't look as
flustered as she felt. "Is there... is there something about
the paint you used on Katherine's portrait that could smear
her features, even though the paint was dry?"
Dante looked at her like she was insane. "Dry paint doesn't
smear, Dana."
"I didn't think so," she sighed, dropping her gaze to the
ground.
"I will answer your other questions if you will do me the
honor... the favor..."
She looked up, suddenly terrified that the artist was going
to ask her out on a date. "I don't do honors or favors," she
stated firmly. Oh God, she thought, how Mulder would laugh at
that.
"May I paint you?"
It was such an odd request that she gaped at him. "Why would
you want to do that?"
"You have a beauty that is timeless," he conveyed. "Such
beauty should be preserved for those you leave behind.
She doubted that this was his typical sales pitch. "What are
you talking about?" she asked, backing up towards the stairs.
Dante didn't try to coax her back. He just looked at her
sadly and explained. "Dana, the look in your eyes, I've
seen before. In Italy, we call it lo sguardo della morte."
Scully reached for the railing. "The look of death," she
translated, her voice only one decibel above a frightened
whisper.
"You're dying, aren't you?"
Scully turned around and fled down the stairs, not stopping
until she was in the safety of her car. She locked the
door and spent several minutes trying not to hyperventilate.
Once she calmed down, she glanced into the rear-view mirror
at the back seat where Mulder had put Katherine's portrait.
The woman in the painting was smiling again.
To Be Continued....
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