Headers in Part 1 Scully's bedroom 9:30 PM September 6, 1998 After the first time, they were completely in the dark. The last of the day's sunlight was gone and no light shone on the depths of their bed. And she would now consider it their bed, she thought, even if he never spent another moment in it. He fit there. Surprisingly, their first time was not as clumsy as the first times that had come before. And she expected it to be. Both, she suspected, were long out of practice. Or maybe neither of them noticed or cared if they had been less than graceful. They had been so swept away in their own feelings and emotions. She felt his hands on either side of her face, his thumbs rubbing gingerly over her cheeks. "Does it hurt?" "No. The redness will be there for a little longer but it doesn't hurt." His lips soothed the skin still raw from exposure. "Antarctica," he said, in a voice that told her he still couldn't quite believe what they had been through. "Antarctica," she said, in awe of not only their incredible journey but also for the motivation behind it. He literally went to the ends of the earth for her-- not for an x-file, or a conspiracy, or anything but saving her. "Can I pull back the drapes a bit? I'd like to see you. I need to see you." "Yes, please." She needed to see him, too. Touch and taste and sound were all wonderful but she felt truly grounded when she could look in his eyes. And there were things that only his eyes could say right now. He opened the drapes and returned to bed. XXXXX Madame Miranda's Love Connection January 16, 1999 8:13 PM Mulder pushed open the door to Madame Miranda's Love Connection and held it until Scully entered. It contained all of the trappings she expected from a psychic's place of business. Two gilt-edged chairs with a potted palm between them graced the small waiting area, which was separated from the reading room by thick purple drapes. What she didn't expect was Madame Miranda herself. At the sound of the wind chimes clinking from the breeze of the open door, a tall, 30-something brunette dressed in jeans and a thick turtleneck sweater came out of the back office. She stood still for a moment, staring at Mulder. She smiled and glanced Scully's way, the smile still intact. Before they could introduce themselves, a big bouncing yellow bear of a dog came bounding out of the room, leaping at Mulder with such force that the agent landed flat on his back. "Max!" Miranda went over and pulled the dog's collar as he was sampling Mulder's aftershave with his tongue. "I'm so sorry. He's really friendly--he just doesn't know his own strength sometimes. Are you hurt?" "Just my pride," Mulder said as Scully leaned down to give him her hand. He took it and whispered, "and my ass." Mulder smiled sheepishly and started brushing himself off as Scully reached into her jacket for ID. "We're. . ." "Agents Scully and Mulder. I know. Come on in. It's warmer inside." "Boy, you really are psychic," Mulder said. "I am gifted. In a way. Yes. But that's not how I knew who you were. You just have a certain. . .bearing. . ." "Told you to slouch, Scully," Mulder said. "Actually, I think I looked at you first, Agent Mulder." "Damn," he said. Scully felt the color rise to her face as she promptly took one of the seats Miranda had offered. Women had a tendency to flirt with Mulder right in front of her-- especially tall, dark haired women. Mulder's "type" of woman. Now *she* was reading things that were not necessarily there and had to stop doing it. She scratched Max behind his ears and he happily beat out a response against the carpet with his tail. "So, where do we begin with all of this? The only Federal officer I ever spoke with is my uncle Paul and I can't say he's ever interrogated me before." "Well, you're not a suspect," Scully quietly replied, "so, there is no interrogation. Why don't you just tell us what's been going on." Miranda sat back against the high-backed purple velvet chair. "Okay. The very first incident was about ten days ago. A friend of mine, as a joke, bought me a crystal ball. I mean, there is nothing wrong with crystal balls but it's just not me and I didn't have one. Actually, if I could, I would simplify this setting but this is the boardwalk of Atlantic City and people expect a certain atmosphere. Anyway, it was a little before 9 PM and I was closing for the evening when the ball just shattered, in a million pieces. Max was in the back room and I grabbed him and kept him out of here--then took the dustpan and managed to gather everything up. It was odd but I thought there had to be a logical reason. It wasn't apparent to me what that reason could be but I just forgot about it. Two days after that the etched messages appeared on my window." "But you don't have any writing on the glass now," Scully said. "That's Uncle Paul's doing. After he heard about the incident with the blood, he had someone come in this morning and redo the windows--carting the entire front window away as 'evidence.' A bit of overkill if you ask me." "What did the writings say." "There were three of them. 'Warning.' 'Connections.' 'Memory.' All on different nights. And then I heard about the other messages some of the mediums on the boardwalk were receiving. I don't know. It's just odd." "The incident with Max?" Miranda's green eyes darkened. "I don't think it was intentional. Well, it wasn't directed at Max and I consider whoever did this rather lucky that I feel this way because Max is my--well, he's my best friend. I know that sounds corny but it's true. He makes me happy. He's my family. I wouldn't be all that charitable if I felt someone meant to harm him. Anyway, I made a sandwich that morning for lunch. Same bread I had been using all week. As a matter of fact, it was the same bread I made toast out of that morning for breakfast. I pulled out some ham--also the same deli-sliced ham I had been using for days, and threw a couple of slices on the bread and that was it. Around 5 PM, I decided to have lunch. I keep strange hours. I pulled out the sandwich and went to the front to put the 'out to lunch' sign on the door when someone came in to ask me about a reading. While I was explaining what I do, Max ate the sandwich. Within a few minutes, he was drooling and vomiting and did not look well at all. I closed the place up and took him to an animal hospital where it was confirmed he was poisoned. But they didn't think there was a lot of poison in his system. Enough to make him sick but not enough to cause permanent damage." "Did they test the stomach contents to see what type of poison?" "No. I mean, I wasn't thinking all that clearly and didn't ask them to. I just wanted to take Max home at that point and hibernate. Of course, I did get up and go on with my life the next day but still. . .it was discouraging. And then--there was the blood incident." "Blood was on the windows this morning," Scully said. Miranda nodded. "But there was more to it than is mentioned in your reports. I locked up last night as I always do. I have a metal security gate that goes down and no one has access to the windows through the gate. However--I locked someone inside. My friend, Kevin, who is a police officer, insisted that he wanted to stake the place out. Unofficially. So, he came in through the back entrance--which is a rather seedy way of entering these stores and a door, frankly, I never use ... and I locked him in for the evening. He witnessed it." "What exactly did he witness" "A shadow without real form. And blood--spattering. Then nothing. I think it scared the hell out of him." "And when did this happen?" "Shortly before dawn." "Can we speak to this witness?" "Sure. He'll be by in a while, if you'd like to wait. He's taking his break here." "Actually," Mulder said. "I'd like him to stop by our motel. I'll leave the address with you. It will save us some time before we come back here tonight." "You're coming back?" "Yes. You're going to lock us in as you did the good officer Kevin yesterday." Scully suppressed a sigh. It was going to be a long night. XXXXX Mulder's Room Blue Shores Motel 9:05 PM "They fixed your door, I see." Scully said as they walked through the door of room 105 at the Blue Shores Motel. "I wonder if they cleaned your tub." "I don't think I care anymore. This is the longest day of my life," she said, sitting on the ugly orange couch across from the bed. "And it's only going to get longer." She watched Mulder crack a small smile as he lowered himself on the bed. "You know we have to stake out her place. At least for tonight." She stifled the whimper she could feel rising from her throat. The air was damp and cold and a sinus headache was in the making. "I know." "For the record, I don't think anything will happen if we do." "You don't think it's an x-file?" She asked, surprised. "Oh, I do. I'm pretty sure it's a spirit who is unable to find rest because he has some information to impart to Miranda. And, also for the record, I think he's harmless. I think he's just desperately trying to get her attention and doesn't know how." "He?" "The movements are a bit clumsy. I think it's a he, all right." She smiled at that. "Disgruntled customer?" She guessed. "You're not fighting me on this? You're not telling me I'm full of shit and it's some teenage rabble rousers who are somehow doing this?" "I thought we'd just skip over that whole part this time," she smiled, leaning back against the cushions. "Wow. Where's my calendar? I need to mark down this date." "Well, let's just say my mind is slightly more open to the possibility due to the odd way I spent Christmas Eve. Mulder--why did you suggest that Officer Simmons meet us here instead of on the boardwalk?" "I don't know the nature of their relationship but I thought he could speak more freely without Miranda being present. And I wanted to sneak in a shower before we go on stake out. You could probably take a short nap, if you want." "No, it's all right. I'll take a shower, too, and we can buy about a gallon of coffee on the way." "Are we conserving water?" His eyes twinkled but she wasn't quite in the mood to play. "I don't think this place wastes a lot of water. They certainly don't use it to clean." "Suit yourself." Someone knocked on the door. Mulder looked at his watch. "Prompt." Scully got up and opened the door to a tall, good looking, All-American police officer. That was the best way she could describe him. He shook hands with them and seemed a bit nervous. "Agents Mulder, Scully," he said, nodding to the wrong one in turn, "Miranda has told me a lot about your visit this evening." "I'm Mulder, she's Scully," Mulder said. "Miranda told us you had a personal encounter with--something--early this morning." He ran his right hand through his wavy hair. "Well, you'll probably think I'm crazy but. . ." Mulder interrupted. "Let me put your mind at ease. We belong to the X-files division of the FBI. We investigate the paranormal. So, feel free to tell us whatever you saw. Don't censor yourself because you think we'll feel you're odd. Nothing you could tell us would come near to some of the things we've seen." "Really? Miranda's Uncle Paul sent *you?*" He colored at his own words. "I mean, it's just surprising. From all I've heard, he's rather a by the book type of person." "Well, sometimes even by the book people will call in the right ones for the job if the need is great enough." "I suppose." Scully interjected. "Could you tell us a bit about what happened this morning?" "Okay. After a lot of discussion--well, argument, really--Miranda agreed to lock me in for the night. I think she pretty much feels that this is not being done by people--I do believe she feels it's. . .paranormal? But she didn't want me to be in a position of being alone with it--the entity, ghost or whatever. I talked her into it using the opposite argument. Because I was a hundred percent sure--although I couldn't figure out the logistics--that it was a case of malicious mischief. And I didn't like Max getting hurt. I like the dog, too, and frankly--it could just as easily have been Miranda--and it could just as easily have been a fatal dose of poison. So, I just settled in for the night. And, basically, it was a little creepy in there. All quiet and everything. I had a walkman with me to listen to the news. That was about it. It was about 5:45 in the morning and I figured I'd give it until 6:30 and then go home. I don't know why but I was pretty sure that whatever would happen would happen at night. And people start roaming on the boardwalk more about 7 AM-- breakfast and all of that. So, I go to the bathroom and when I come out--there is like--I don't know. A fog--but more than that. A fog with substance to it. No shape but kind of like a translucent blob. And out of the blob--all of a sudden, blood spattered against Miranda's windows. But not as if it were thrown from a bucket but as if it were coming from someone who was shot in the head or something. Just spattered--really quickly. And then the blob thing was gone and everything was normal except Miranda's windows. I got my wits about me--checked the back exit--checked the locks. Nothing had been touched at all." "You weren't overly tired, were you, Officer Simmons?" Scully asked. "I thought you were open to anything I told you, no matter how odd," Kevin said, looking a bit hurt. Scully smiled reassuringly. "We do believe you. It's just a routine question--not one trying to discredit you in any way." "I wasn't overly tired. If anything, I was energized. I really wanted to catch this guy for Miranda." "You are friends?" Mulder asked. "Yes, we're friends," Kevin said with a slight lowering of his eyelids. Mulder caught Scully's gaze and smiled. "What did you feel it was when you left this morning?" "I don't know. But it wasn't human. That's for damned sure." "Thank you, Officer Simmons. We'll be staking out the place tonight." "If you need my help, I'll be more than happy to relieve you or whatever you want. I'm not afraid. Well, I am to some extent but not enough to keep me away." "That won't be necessary. Just get some rest this evening. We'll let you know about tomorrow." "All right. You figure this out for her, okay? People shouldn't have to live in fear." "We'll try our best." And Mulder escorted him back to the door and out of the motel. "We should have offered him this room. He might want to keep an eye on Miranda this way," Scully said. "Hey--he can be a man and keep an eye on Miranda in her own room." Scully smiled. "Yeah, Mulder. That's quite convincing. You should probably open up your own shop and give advice to the lovelorn." He smiled. "What do I know about romance? But, as far as stakeouts are concerned, "*Do* bring lots of coffee--as long as a bathroom is available. *Don't* be late. Meet you back here in a couple of hours?" "I'll be here," she said, turning to go back to her own room. End of Part 3