Chapter Two March 20, 2000 Somewhere over Colorado 6 PM Scully leaned back against her seat and tried to relax her neck muscles. Reading the files in front of her several times over had brought on a definite kink. This was an unwelcome addition to the already existing tension of pretending to believe Mulder was sleeping when she knew he wasn't. She had to make things better and there really was no better place than in the plane. She ran her finger over the hand he had resting against his knee. He brought it back with a jerk. "I'm sorry," she said. "No. It's all right. You just startled me," he said, turning away from her slightly. "That's not what I meant. I'm sorry about this morning." He closed his eyes again. "I don't want to talk about it, Scully." "We have to, Mulder. Please." He looked at her, not bothering to conceal the pain and anger he felt. "We had this discussion. Yesterday evening you told me why you bolted from my bed yesterday morning. I was hurt but understood. This morning, you did it again. I'm beyond hurt and understand absolutely nothing. What can you say that's going to help make sense of this?" "I--just got scared." "Great. The woman who can face liver eating mutants takes one look at my puss in the morning and leaves before the sun can fully rise." She ignored his flippancy. "Mulder, I've been trying to put it all in perspective. These last few days have been so strange for me. I've not only felt more open to all the extreme possibilities presented to me but I've acted on those feelings. I don't fully understand why, myself. I have always tried to balance my instincts with my rational side but you and I both know that the rational side tends to dominate. I certainly don't normally make life-altering decisions on the spur of the moment." "I didn't ask you to come to my bed, Scully. That was your idea. You had your little epiphany and crawled in and if I had been thinking clearly, I might have stopped you to ask if you were sure of what you were doing. But forgive my stupidity--I was so fucking happy you made the decisionto finally let yourself love me that I just went along with your un-Scullyish behavior. I should have known better." "No. I'm not making myself clear. I was ready. I was sure. About us." "Then why the hell did you leave? And, okay--you explained. Twice now. Yesterday, you were scared of us. Today, you are scared of your own actions. But the end result is the same. You ran out the same fucking way two mornings in a row. Fool me once, shame on you. Fool me twice, shame on me." "You're channeling my mom, Mulder," she smiled but her attempt at levity was met with a grimace. "I'm not trying to 'fool' anyone. Least of all you. I would never intentionally hurt you but, I--you were so intense, Mulder." "I don't want to talk about this here." "Mulder--this is the perfect place to talk about it. You can't run from me." "Oh, well, too bad we didn't make love up here. Maybe you would have stayed afterwards." Scully gave a brief, unamused smile. "You were so intense, Mulder. We usually deal in subtleties. The things you said and the things we did. . ." He turned to look directly in her face as he spoke. He kept his voice down to a controlled whisper but the emotion was there. "Fuck subtlety. I'm sick of talking in riddles, Scully. That's all we do. Say just enough to keep the other one guessing but never stating exactly what we mean. We do it all the time. Skinner--even he does it. Probably learned from us. He doesn't come out and tell us that he has some chicken-shit assignment to appease some paranoid old coot and we're the only crackpots suitable for the job. He doesn't come out and ask if I gave you that massive hickey on your chest or if you're seeing someone behind both our backs even though his eyes are fucking falling out of his head at the sight. I'm so sick of this. You were in my bed. You were soft and warm and finally--I thought--mine. Damned right I was going to tell you every thing in my heart and head. I had been storing it up for so long and thought, foolishly, that it was a pretty good occasion to lay my cards on the table. And as for the things we did--I didn't hear one word of complaint while we were doing them." "There was nothing to complain about, Mulder. That's not it at all. It's just--I'm used to living in a state of denial. Maybe if it had been less intense of an experience, I wouldn't have felt the enormity of my decision in such a way. I ready for it. In a more controlled, maybe less passionate, way. Real life is very different than the scenarios we run through our minds. I had no time to think and in the morning, with you asleep. . .it just hit me and I couldn't stop myself from leaving. Either time. I tried but I guess I'm just too used to the denial. It's so much easier." "You imagined our first time together as basically. . .what? Tame? Dull, even?" "No. I pictured it as being nice." Mulder gave a short bitter laugh. "Well, sorry to have over-exceeded your expectations. I can see your point of view. I do tend to order a full lunch and damn the consequences, while you stick to your yogurt and bee pollen and worry whether it will go straight to your ass. We're very different. No reason to believe we'd be any more compatible in bed than out." Scully didn't quite like the look on his face. She liked his next words even less. "Well, fine. We'll just go back to easy." "What?" "We'll go back to the way we were two days ago. No. We'll go back to the way we were last week. Before you met up with Daniel again and decided to take your 'hot for teacher' hormones and use them up on me. No harm, no foul." She knew he was striking out in any way that would hurt but she was determined to remain calm and reason with him. "I love you. Only you. I told you so, and God knows, I don't take those words lightly," she said softly. He closed his eyes and leaned his head back again. His eyes suddenly closed tighter but not before Scully saw a trace of moisture try to escape from under his now closed lids. He gave up the snide remarks and the fight. "Two days ago, we had a partnership and I had hope for more. This morning, I woke up and felt like a fuck buddy who didn't even realize that was my role in life." "It's not. I just need time to get adjusted. I'm used to depriving myself, Mulder. I don't know--there's just part of me that's completely frightened to take what I want. Like it will all disappear because I'm finally being selfish. That's all it is. I know it sounds like some awful line--but it really is 'me, not you.' I'm sorry you are suffering the consequences but I just don't know how to make it any easier on either of us. It's something I have to work out. . ." She touched his shoulder and he did not flinch. He did not open his eyes, either. She'd have to settle for that. For now. Sunrise Hotel Los Angeles, California 9 PM Mulder hesitated before knocking on the door to her hotel room. He had a problem. As a trained psychologist, a woman approached him and basically gave him a pretty decent self-diagnosis. He wanted to forgive her completely. He was too tired to continue this. Too tired to fight. He believed her when she told him she loved him. And really, what else mattered? There really was nothing to forgive. No one could completely predict or dictate another's person's actions or reactions. She felt and did what she felt she needed to at the moment and he'd have to live with it. But damn it, there was another part of him that was not so willing to let it all go. They had discussed their problem in detail the night before and she turned around and did the same thing all over again knowing it would hurt him. What guarantee did he have that this wouldn't happen again and again, with him expected to understand--again and again. He almost wanted to check his shoulders. The good angel versus the bad angel. Were they sitting there, dictating his thoughts? He drew in a quick breath. He'd have time to psychoanalyze himself and/or Scully in more detail later. Now, he had to let her know that they were still on-duty. And it was time he put all the personal baggage aside and act accordingly. He rapped on the door and she let him in. "We have an audience with the Queen tonight," he said. "Tonight?" "She doesn't do mornings, apparently. She does, however, stay up all hours. Anyway, she wants to see us at 11 so I thought we might go over a few things. Plan a strategy so we can wrap up this case and get back home." "We just got here. Don't you like L.A.?" she asked, knowing the answer. "I like it when we are being pampered. This is not exactly pampering." He took in her room. Pretty much a mirror image of his own across the hall. "It's a standard room, Mulder. We've seen worse." "That we have," he sat down at the functional desk and pulled out a pad of stationary the hotel provided. He spoke as he wrote. "So--there are no leads to follow up on Hank Costas. He was a widower; two grown children with families of their own. They had moved out of New York long ago and didn't have more than annual holiday contact with their father. He was somewhat active in Broadway charities and was a regular at a senior center in town but had never mentioned Charlotte in a more than casual way to anyone. Autopsy report?" Scully stopped her unpacking and chimed in. "Damage was consistent with the method of suicide. Third degree burns all over his body--mostly on the head, face, chest and upper back. He was DOA upon arrival at St. Luke's. That was about all that was noted. Of course, no one was looking for anything specific or out of the ordinary because it seemed like a pretty cut and dried suicide. And his remains were cremated. . ." "So, dead end with him. Pun intended. Next case--Jim Downey. He lived here. In L.A. Adult daughter nearby. We can try to set up something with her tomorrow and with the producer of that promo commercial or whatever they were filming when the two golden oldies killed each other in such a grand fashion. We'll need to go to the County coroner to pick up the complete autopsy reports since the LA office decided to do our work for us and give a summary instead of the files themselves." Scully smiled. Trust Mulder to expect her to make connections that no one else did. At the very least, he still believed in her-- professionally. 11:25 PM Drawing room Charlotte Colby's estate Scully found herself blinking several times wondering whether she should schedule a second complete eye examination for the year. There was something--muted--about the room they were brought into. She couldn't quite put her finger on it. They were definitely in Hollywood now, she thought. From the huge mansion and massive property to the several members of Charlotte Colby's entourage they had already encountered. And still, even though it was past the time they had all agreed to meet, there was no sign of the star herself. Well, other than the massive portrait of a much younger Charlotte gracing the prime spot over the blazing fireplace. Excess. The fireplace lit and glowing while the central air conditioning was running on high. The rich brocade chairs that both she and Mulder had been escorted to. She felt oddly uncomfortable. While the room was lovely, it was a place for lounging clothes made of rich materials, necks draped with precious stones and mouths stuffed with bonbons. Not a well-tailored navy blue pantsuit, a small gold cross and a stomach that was nearly empty due to the fact that she really hadn't wanted to break the peace treaty she seemed to have struck with Mulder after their plane ride. She looked across at the man himself. He was already looking at her. Surprisingly, he gave her a small smile. A warmth instantly filled her. It didn't take much. "Well," he said, "how do I look airbrushed?" Shit, that was the answer. The lighting was that strange pink that, together with the deeper rose walls had an almost surreal effect. It looked like they were literally viewing things through rose-colored glasses. The double doors to the room suddenly burst open. "FBI!" A melodic but loud voice dramatically called out. They looked up and there she was. Framed by the large entranceway to this "drawing" room. The hallway behind her was no longer fully lit by the lights that had been on when they entered a half-hour before. They had been dimmed and two huge candelabras--containing about a dozen candles each--burned brightly behind her, making the silken material of her light mauve caftan shimmer in an other-wordly glow. Scully and Mulder rose to their feet as Charlotte entered with both arms extended. She came close enough to grab on to each of the agent's hands--not for a real handshake but for some sort of Hollywood "grasp of genuine warmth." "FBI--I am so sorry. You know, I just have so much to do lately. I really do have to learn how to slow down. I'm getting a bit advanced in the age department, you know," she said, almost scoffing at her own words. Scully thought. Even with the odd lighting, the freshly dyed red hair and the fairly recent face-lift, Charlotte somehow looked every one of her 76 years and then some, she thought. Everything was perfect but there was just--something--which revealed her advanced age. "Sit, sit--we will get to know each other and help my poor friends somehow. FBI--this is my first contact with the Bureau. I must admit, I am excited. I did a spy movie once, you know." "Um, Ms. Colby, I am Special Agent Dana Scully and this is my partner, Special Agent Fox Mulder." Charlotte let out what could only be described as a squeal of joy. "Special Agents! I love it. Please. You must call me Charlotte. We shall be friends." Scully chanced a look in Mulder's direction. He looked down at the pad he had in his hands but not before she caught a small blush rising to his cheeks. Was he that close to the warmth of the fire or did he actually fall for her bullshit? "Ms. Colby. . ." a sharp clearing of the throat was enough chastisement. Scully decided to play by the diva's rules. "Charlotte. We would like to ask you about the men who have died in the last few months. You seem to be the only connection between all of them and we were hoping you might tell us something that would somehow shed some light on these odd deaths." "Of course. Anything I can do for my poor, dear, lost friends," her emerald green eyes shone with tears. Right on cue. "The first death was Hank Costas," Mulder prompted. Charlotte took hold of the edge of her gown and swirled just the right amount of material to the front as she sat on the couch. "Hank. One of the true loves of my life. Are you familiar with my films?" she asked suddenly, focusing all her attention on Scully. "Um. . .I believe I saw the. . .Christmas-themed movie." "Ah, yes. 'Snowflakes in Savannah.' A personal favorite. I loved doing the accent. And you?" Now her attention was focused on Mulder. He looked down at his pad and the color in his face rose again. "I've seen quite a few of your films, Miss Colby." "Charlotte, Special Agent darling Fox." Good God. He was smitten. The only word that truly fit the situation. Who else would he let get away with calling him something like that? "Charlotte," he said softly. She gave him a smile before turning, once again, to Scully. "Well, my dear Agent Dana--I did a series of films. It was under the old studio system and I was working constantly. Constantly! Series were popular for as long as the movie industry was in existence. 'Perils of Pauline,' 'Ma and Pa Kettle,' the 'Zorro' films. Well, they wanted me to be associated with this type of thing so I starred in a series of romances. Different actors in each but all were very dramatic with the men practically falling over their feet for me. They became known as the 'I would die for you' series because, at one point in the movie, each man would say it to my character and would later follow through with that promise, leaving me a poor bereaved wife or lover. It was very meaty." "But Hank wasn't an actor. . .Mi. . .Charlotte," Mulder interrupted. "No, Special Fox, he wasn't. I had done about eight of those films in a row and I was tired of it. Well, maybe not tired, exactly, but I didn't want to be typecast. At that point, Kate Hepburn was appearing on Broadway. Gave her career a kick in the behind, if you will excuse my expression. Everyone was talking about how genuinely talented an actress she was. No--actually, they called her an actor--a step above, apparently--all because she did stage work between films. I wanted to do that as well. Hank was a producer and he loved me. He wanted me to be happy. . .so, I came to New York and starred in a show he produced just for me. It was lovely, really." "And did you love him?" Scully asked. "Didn't I say so, dear Dana? He was one of the great loves of my life." "Yet your relationship didn't last?" Mulder asked. "It lasted for as long as it was meant to last. One year. I spent time on stage and went back to do another movie and--I guess we had what you'd now call a bi-coastal relationship. He wanted more. And when push came to shove--he wasn't giving up his career for mine. Men generally didn't in those days." "Did you resent that?" Scully asked. "Young lady--of course I did. Not that I would have stayed with him, or he with me. It was a sensible choice but I expected him to make that sacrifice anyway. It was natural." "Natural in what way?" "It's love. Love is sacrifice. It's adoration." "But you weren't willing to do that for him." "Of course not. He would never bother asking." "Well, forgive me for saying this but from what you've told us it sounds a bit one-sided. To expect from him what you weren't willing to give of yourself." Mulder gave her a sharp look. She pressed on. Let him be the fan. She was being the investigator she needed to be. "One-sided? No. He gave me what I needed and I gave him affection. That's a fair and equal exchange. As I said before, it lasted for as long as it was meant to last. In the end, we both knew neither one of us was willing to make any permanent sacrifices. So, it wasn't really as one-sided as you might think, Agent Dana." Scully could see she would get nowhere with this line of questioning. "When did you last see Hank, Charlotte?" "Hmmm. . .years and years ago." "Did you speak with him on the telephone?" "No. Never." "No contact at all? Letters? Messages from other people?" "Well. I heard about him from people we had both known in New York but no--no contact. He was one person I remembered completely so I didn't even have to consult him for my book." "Your book?" Mulder was suddenly at the edge of his seat. Scully could imagine him being first in line at Barnes and Noble. "My memoirs, FBI Fox. Almost complete. Just have one last chapter and some polishing to do here and there." He smiled softly. "I would love to read it." She stood up. "Well, then you shall! I will have my assistant get you a copy of the latest manuscript tomorrow. Now, I hate to cut this meeting short but I do have some more meetings this evening." Scully stood up as well, "Charlotte--we still haven't discussed the other three men." "We will, my dear. They aren't going anywhere, are they? Oh, I guess I shouldn't say that. That was very naughty of me but it is true. Sadly." She pouted a bit. "Tomorrow evening. I promise we will discuss them all. Ta, my friends. Until tomorrow," and with that, the whirlwind known as Charlotte Colby left the room. Scully looked up at Mulder, who was staring at Charlotte's retreating figure as she climbed up the stairs leading from the main entrance. One minute later, the hall lights came back on and a servant was quickly dousing the flames of each of the candles. Mulder led Scully out of the drawing room in silence. March 21, 2000 1:30 AM On the road from Charlotte's estate Scully barely waited until they were on the highway before turning to Mulder in the darkness of the car. "You saw her films, Mulder? 'Quite a few?'" "Yes." "I didn't know she had a blue movie series as well." "She doesn't. She was a big favorite of my mom's and they used to play on the late show and the late-late show. We'd stay up sometimes to watch. Nice little bonding moments, I guess." "Really? I wouldn't think those movies would appeal to you." "They were pretty melodramatic. She was--really mesmerizing, Scully. She had these huge eyes that focused on some poor schmuck and he would go off and die a usually violent or dramatic death while she pined away for him forever. It was a refreshing change from my life where, after their divorce, my parents didn't seem to give a crap whether the other lived or died." Scully looked down at her hands. She should have known there would be deeper meaning to this small fascination. "Hey," Mulder said, breaking her out of her reverie. "Don't do that." "Don't do what?" "Don't feel sorry for me every time I tell you something about my childhood. I'm not bemoaning the fact. I'm just stating life as it was. No big deal." "I give a crap about you, Mulder," she said quietly. "Be still my foolish heart. My beloved doth speak words of deep passion." "You know what I mean." He took a deep breath and released it. Something eased inside him. Something had been gradually easing inside him since their conversation on the plane. She did give a crap about him. She did love him. Nothing else mattered. Life, and love, no longer seemed quite as dramatic as it had for the last few days. A bit convoluted, yes. But the level of drama was really up to him, in this case. He could milk his hurt feelings for all they were worth, or accept the underlying situation and work with Scully to get where they both wanted to go. "Yes, I do know what you mean," he finally answered. "I sometimes think you believe that I don't. Give a shit. Care." "I know you care. I know you love me but--Scully--I gotta tell you that leaving my bed after something so earth shattering. . .was not an ego booster." She could hear just the smallest bit of ironic amusement in his voice but decided to take it seriously. "I'm sorry. I just don't know what else I can say. " "Nothing. Say nothing. That was the last time I'm mentioning it. And only to spell out the fact that it is my ego speaking louder than anything else. Listen--I don't know. I've been thinking about it all day. I guess maybe, odd as it sounds--we need more time. So--take it." "Really?" She quietly asked. "Really." He received a smile in exchange. "You promise you won't run off with Charlotte in the meantime, will you, Special darling Fox?" Mulder let out a genuine huff of laughter. "I'll try to resist, dear Dana." She reached out and ran her hand gently up and down his arm. He looked down at her fingers and she cupped as much of his flesh as she could and squeezed gently. Soon. Everything would be fine. Soon. End of Part 2