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


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