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'Candlelight' 1/4 It's funny how we can see a person every day, can walk side by side with them almost twenty four / seven for month upon endless month. We can share space and time. We can laugh together, cry together, eat lunch together, go for an occasional beer together after the rigours of another day are over. And sometimes, if we're extraordinarily lucky, we can roll over in bed and the first face that confronts us in the early morning light is that of the person we love. But how often do we do those things and never really allow ourselves to really *look* at them? Especially when that person is Scully. She's always hidden things from me. I accepted that side of her complex personality long ago. She left me little choice, especially when I suspect that she learned much of the technique from me. We are both adept at hiding our true feelings. We hide behind walls of our own making in a futile attempt to keep us safe. But sometimes, the walls crumble just a little, allowing the merest glance at what might lay behind, a cry for help with no real words spoken. A plea that somehow manages to always reaches me. Just like it did today. I lay on my back as the woman beside me sleeps, entwined in my arms. She hasn't been asleep long. Finding restful slumber tonight wasn't easy for her. I didn't crowd her, though. I sensed somehow that tonight wasn't the right time to put my observations of earlier into words. She needed to rest. I saw it in the way she turned those china blue eyes on me and silently pleaded with me not to push it. I've learned enough during our time together to take heed of that look. To ignore it usually ends up with us yelling at each other as the bricks fall firmly back in to place, stronger than ever. Impossible to dislodge. So wisely, I kept my own counsel as we sat together watching a movie that neither of us really saw. I studied her out of the corner of my eye as she in turn kept her gaze rigidly ahead, refusing to look my way for fear of what she might reveal. And instead of speaking I pulled her closer towards me and tried to smooth the tension from her with my hands rather than my words. A thousand small caresses that eventually became urgent as unwittingly I awoke the need inside us for more intimate contact. We made love of course. The sensation of being with Scully is still new enough for me to become lost in the act. But later, as we lay sated in each other's arms, I could look at her and see the despair that lingered beneath the surface, begging me silently for release but at the same time pleading with me not to question her on what had happened earlier in the day. So I didn't. I just pulled her towards me and wrapped my arms around her, feigning sleep in order to give her the space she needed. Eventually I was rewarded as I felt the tension leave her. Felt her body relax against mine as fatigue won out over the fear and she finally fell in to a troubled sleep beside me. I can feel her heartbeat against my chest, taking comfort from each and every breath she takes. Because it wasn't so very long ago I thought I'd lost her and just having her here with me allows me to clear my mind of everything but her. Of the things I saw reflected in her face earlier today. We'd come to the end of a long and difficult case. Physically and emotionally draining for the both of us as we tracked a serial killer who got his kicks from slicing up young women and writing proclamations of faith on the walls of their apartments using the congealing blood he had carefully extracted from their bodies as they died. The deaths were grisly. Horrific. Senseless. They took their toll on both of us as we sought to unravel the mysteries that would allow us access in to his head. Profiling the guy had been the easy part. Finding him was something altogether different. Until finally, we had narrowed the search down to a crummy two-room apartment in the heart of New York City and early this morning, we planned and executed our final assault. Initially we had thought that we were too late. The apartment appeared to be un-lived in. No furniture, nothing personal that suggested a human being had ever inhabited it. It was only when we heard the cop's cry of surprise that came from the bathroom that we realised we were wrong. In a sense we *were* too late because in that dingy room, transformed by the golden glow of countless flickering candles, lay the blood soaked body of the Reverend Terrance Mosely. A shrewd and kindly local man who was well thought of in the neighbourhood for his good deeds towards the old, the sick and the desperate. A man who had, in reality, seethed inside for years with an unspoken desire to feed on the weak and the helpless. A man who would now forever be known as a monster to all those he came in to contact with and who would plague the nightmares of the fifteen victims' families for years to come. There would be no justice for them. Only a small measure of comfort that, in taking his own life, this man would never seek to hurt anyone again. A single glance at him had made the cause of death immediately definable. Both arms opened up from elbow to wrist with the small razor sharp knife that lay beside him in the congealing blood. The reasons for it also apparent. A final message scrawled on the wall, presumably to be read by Scully and me. "For my sins I die like the lamb." Case closed. Nothing more to learn here. Or so I had thought until I glanced up from where I was crouching by the body, mouth open in readiness to speak to my partner, the words dying on my lips as I saw the look on her face. I had realised in a flash that nothing in this room was having any impact on her. Not me, not the prone body of this vicious killer, not the blood on the walls. Because horrific as the scene was, she saw nothing beyond the flickering flames that were dancing and playing in the gloom that surrounded them. I had watched the blood drain from her face and I swear that for a moment I believed she was going to collapse against the wall and wind up in an ungainly heap on the floor. My beautiful, strong partner jostling for space on the cracked linoleum with the body of a serial killer. With a *monster* But she didn't. Fixated as she was by the flames, eyes wide and staring, she just stood in the doorway, every muscle in her body tensed and ready for flight as the ghost of Donnie Pfaster rose up once again to take residence in the deepest, darkest recesses of her heart. I had called her attention back to me with the single, sharp utterance of her name. It was enough to snap her back to reality but not enough to chase away the ghost that had dwelled inside her without my knowledge or understanding. Her statement had cleared slightly, though, and her voice, when it finally came, was strong and steady. "I need some air." So she went, leaving me still crouched on the floor as I stared after her retreating back. Hearing the sound of the door slam as she exited the apartment. Hearing her footsteps recede in to the distance as she ran away. Ran away from everything. From me, for this apartment, from the memories that live inside her head which she has never shared with me. I had remained there for a while, clearing things up with the local PD. They didn't really need me now. The case was closed. The killer no longer a threat to anyone. The good citizens of New York could sleep easily in their beds tonight with the thought of one more threat removed from their streets. I had stayed though, for maybe thirty minutes, until the scenes of crime boys rolled up to start taking their happy snaps of the body. I didn't stay out of any sense of duty. Our part in all this had been played. We could return home with a clear conscience, the knowledge that we had once again fought the good fight and won. But the look on Scully's face had rocked me to the core and I instinctively knew she needed some time to get herself back together again. The one thing she didn't need me to do right at that moment was to go rushing after her. Especially since my initial reaction would be one of guilt. I had thought she was over it. I had thought she was over *him*. But now, as she sleeps against me in the peculiar blue light of night, whimpering occasionally as nightmares plague her dreams, I realise how wrong I've been. I also know that somehow I have to make things right for her again. Continued Part 2 |
