TITLE: Instant Warmth
AUTHOR: Sue Piper and Marie Endres
EMAIL: sooziewoozie@telus.net joemimi@prodigy.net
RATING: PG
CLASSIFICATION: Scully Angst, humor.
SPOILERS: none really
SUMMARY: Sometimes homelessness is a state of being.
DISCLAIMER: If we did own them, we would have given Scully a
desk and got Mulder to wear the red Speedo again!
This is part of a series of improv stories by Marie and Sue. You do
not have to read the others for this to make sense, but we would
love it if you did.
Part 1:" Rite of Spring"
Part 2: "What's Up Doc?"
Part 3: Instant Warmth. All can be found at Ephemeral.
.
AUTHORS' NOTES: This story was prompted by an improv
challenge from the XScenes Group. Elements and prolific thanks
will be given at the end.
9a.m. J. Edgar Hoover Building
The click of her heels on the highly polished floor echoed in the
early morning emptiness of the Hoover building. It had only been
five days since her leg cast had been removed and she was relishing
every step.
The walk seemed to be taking forever as Scully's brain computed
all the reasons that she would have been summoned to Skinner's
office at this time of the morning. She turned the corner into the
outer office, breathing a sigh of relief as she saw Mulder sitting
there, fidgeting.
She settled herself onto the couch and glanced at him, trying to
gain some psychic insight into their presence there.
She was just about to speak when the intercom buzzed to life and
Skinner's voice barked that he was ready for them.
They walked into his office in silence.
"Take a seat, Agents," he requested, not taking his eyes off the
papers in front of him.
They took their seats and waited patiently for him to begin.
"How is your leg, Agent Scully?" he inquired.
"Fine, thank you, Sir. The physical therapy has been very
successful."
"Good, I see from the P60 that FBI doctors have declared you fit
for active duty."
"Yes, Sir. Yesterday."
"That is a remarkably quick recovery, Agent Scully."
"Yes, Sir." She was almost willing him to make something of it.
Skinner's eyes settled on her for a moment, as if he were trying to
make a decision. His mind apparently made up, he handed her the
file that he had been reading.
She took the buff folder from him and looked at Mulder. He
shrugged, obviously as unaware of the next assignment as she was.
She opened the file in her lap as Skinner continued.
"In the last five weeks, there have been five homicides involving
homeless women in the warehouse district."
"I have been requested by the AIC to select a female agent to go
undercover. You have been assigned. Agent Mulder will assist as
backup."
Mulder started to speak. "Sir--"
"Agent Mulder, I would suggest with your conduct of the last few
days that you are in no position to argue about this assignment."
Scully glared at Mulder wondering what he had done this time.
"But, Sir--"
"I think that will be all, Agents. You will report to Agent Rice by
6
a.m. If you have any queries I am sure you will find he is more
than willing to help you fill in the blanks."
"Thank you, Sir," Scully said, as she turned to leave.
"But, Sir--" Mulder started to say.
Scully grabbed his sleeve and glared at him. "Mulder!"
He turned to look at her, and realised he was not going to win this
particular battle. Following her lead, he turned and left the office.
*****
The door to the basement office shut behind them as Mulder sat
down heavily in his chair.
"What the hell did we do to deserve this, Scully? Our first case
back with you on active duty, and we get a murder investigation.
It's not even an X-file."
"We? You are the one that keeps getting into trouble, Mulder.
This may not be an X-file but we have been requested to join the
task force. Women are getting murdered out there, and it is our job
to do whatever it takes to solve this."
"But, Scully--"
"But nothing, Mulder. I was at the hospital only three hours having
my cast removed. How much trouble could you have gotten into in
that time?"
"Scully, I--"
"Don't answer that, Mulder. I think I would rather not know. Let's
familiarize ourselves with the file and get up to Agent Rice's office
before we get into even more trouble for being late."
*********************
Later that day
Mulder could hardly contain himself. Giggles were bubbling
below the surface and even the threat of Scully's raised eyebrows
could not stop them. He laughed out loud, still not perturbed by
her glare. It was a bit like laughing in church. Mulder had reached
the point where all the will in the world would not stop his
laughter.
"Laugh it up, Mulder. I am so glad you find this so amusing."
He could barely speak through the tears. "Scully, I'm sorry, but you
look. You look--"
"Spit it out, Mulder."
"You look as though you got dressed in the dark."
"Well as far as I am aware, bag ladies do not shop in Nordstrom's,"
she replied indignantly.
She looked in the full length mirror in the changing room and
huffily adjusted her 'outfit.' The mismatched clothes and colours
clashed wildly with her now wild and tangled hair. She looked ten
years older. She looked like road kill.
Mulder managed to calm himself. He could not believe the
transformation. She was hardly recognisable as the well-dressed
Agent Scully. She looked more like the wild woman of Borneo
with her dirty face and messed up hair. He realised by the
expression on her face it was not just the outfit that made her look
wild. Scully was madder than hell.
He added this to the list of things he owed her.
By the time they stepped into the briefing room, Scully's
professional mask was back in place as she assimilated the
information being given by Agent Rice.
"As we discussed in my original briefing, we have predicted the
next murder will happen either tonight or tomorrow night, if our
perp follows his previous pattern. We have narrowed the area
down to two streets. Agent Griffith, you'll cover Area A with
Agent Miles as backup. Agent Scully will cover Area B with Agent
Mulder as backup. If our guy does not show tonight, both teams
will swap locations tomorrow."
"This guy does not mess around. Don't forget he attacks quickly
from behind, using strangulation to subdue his victims, then a knife
to cut their throats. This could be our only chance to nail this
guy,
so be alert out there."
"Check out your wire taps with Agent Jones before you leave. The
surveillance vans and backup units leave in 30 minutes."
"Any questions?" His query was met with silent refusals. " Okay,
Agents, break a leg."
He saw Scully flinch at the choice of words, and noticed her
creased brow as she mentally prepared herself for a long and
potentially dangerous night.
***
Later that night
The weather was still cold and wet for late May, and Scully could
not stop a small shiver from running down her spine. She was
suddenly thankful for the various layers of clothing she was
wearing even if they were slightly eclectic in appearance.
It was now 10 p.m. and so far the most memorable thing that had
happened to her was a fight with another bag lady. They had
scuffled over a half empty tin of dog food Scully had accidentally
come across on one of her forays into a trashcan. Scully had no
idea of its value until the woman snatched it from her grasp. The
triumphant woman had marched off with her spoils neatly placed in
her rusting wheelbarrow. Scully smiled remembering the
Millennium Jack ball bouncing on the end of an unfurled wire coat
hanger attached to the wheelbarrow.
Her smile faded as she suddenly felt the futility of this existence.
Each of these women was at one time someone's little girl--
precious, small and delicate. Now they were throw-aways, fodder
for a demented soul. What was their crime? Were they not bright
enough, pretty enough? Or had they never found someone with
whom to share their life, someone who would protect them from
the utter aloneness that Scully felt in this twilight world?
She wondered about her own life. She remembered reading that
the average U.S. citizen was only three paychecks away from being
homeless. Maybe some were even closer. Or maybe homelessness
could be a state of being that had nothing to do with bricks and
mortar. In that case, she sometimes felt it a lot closer than the
loss
of a few paychecks.
Being on these streets afforded her quite a bit of time to think--
almost too much time. To distract herself, she focused on the task
at hand and pretended to rummage through yet another trashcan.
Oh, how she longed for latex.
She heard a familiar voice in her earpiece.
"How are you doing, Scully?"
She looked down the street to the unmarked van. "No trash yet,"
she mumbled, trying to make it sound like the wonderings of a mad
woman.
"I'll get Jones to leave coffee for you in the second trash can. It
will help warm you up."
A short time later, she saw Agent Jones walking down the street
with a small dog on leash. She watched him casually toss a bag into
the trash and then cross the street and disappear round the corner.
"I didn't know he'd brought his wife with him," Mulder joked.
"I heard that, Agent Mulder," Agent Jones' disembodied voice
replied over the airways.
"Oops."
Scully could not help but stifle a small laugh.
She walked quickly to the can and removed the bag. She felt the
warmth of the coffee through the paper, allowing the heat to
permeate her hands only half covered by fingerless gloves. Instant
warmth was offered in a paper cup. How easy it was for her. In
the morning she would return to the world of warm coffee and a
safe place to drink it. These women were not leaving here
tomorrow or the next day. The thought made her feel guilty.
She drank as she walked, ignoring the dull ache in her newly
healed leg. She savoured the taste of the coffee and familiar
comfort of its aroma.
Two hours later there was still no sign of the perp. The streets
were almost deserted; most of the people having found refuge in
any available doorway or box as shelter from the rain. The only
thing she could hear was the music from a lone homeless busker
who was playing the bongos, no doubt in an effort to keep warm.
His frenetic pounding had been going on for nearly half an hour
and the repetitive rhythm was starting to give Scully a headache.
She walked to the doorway that she had made her own and sat
down heavily on the cardboard mattress.
She wrapped her arms around her legs and continued her vigil.
These were the hugs she received, from herself, for herself. Again
she was reminded how her life was not too unlike those with whom
she shared the streets tonight, stuck in a limbo existence between
what she knew could exist and what actually did.
Mulder's voice had been droning in her ear for hours. She knew it
was his way of reassuring her he was there; but she also knew she
was a captive audience. Knowing she was unable to answer back,
he had expounded every wild theory he had ever had. He had
covered everything from UFO's to the greatest moments in
baseball.
"So Scully..." he mumbled with a mouth obviously full of
something. Something delicious. Her stomach rumbled. "Do you
want me to drop you some more coffee? Or maybe you would like
some of this mmmm delicious, hot, deep pan pizza? Mmm," he
said trying to taunt her. Her hunger was raging. She was cold, wet,
thirsty and busting for a pee. So she did what any woman in her
situation would do. She stood up, glared across the street to the
unmarked van and gave Mulder the finger.
"Scully, now that was uncalled for, don't you think?"
At that moment she felt a movement behind her. At the same time,
she heard Mulder yell her name.
As she felt the hands close around her throat, she took a step
backwards, throwing her assailant off balance. She seized the
opportunity to kick back a vicious blow to his knee followed by an
elbow to the stomach. She brought her arm up quickly making
contact with his jaw. She felt a sudden pain in her arm as her
assailant let go with a cry of agony. She turned around while trying
to draw her weapon with her injured arm.
She saw Mulder running across the street and heard more agents in
the distance.
"Federal Agent! FREEZE!" she yelled.
It was all a blur. She raised her weapon as the perp took off
running with a pronounced limp from her attack. She saw Mulder
take aim at the same time. She was just about to squeeze the
trigger when the bongo player stood up and unknowingly put
himself in the line of their fire.
"Shit!" she heard Mulder say under his breath, as he started off
after the assailant who had by now used the opportunity to round
the corner.
Mulder disappeared after him. She heard a scuffle and a muffled
cry. As she rounded the corner she saw Mulder lying on the
ground cradling his bleeding arm.
She ran up to him, "Mulder!" she could not contain the worry in
her voice. She was about to kneel down and attend to his wound
when he stopped her.
"I'm fine Scully. Please just get him."
There was a moment of indecision but his pleading eyes
encouraged her to continue her pursuit. She took off as fast as she
could her backup now reduced to the sound of her running shoes
splashing in the puddles.
"Agent down! Agent down! Corner of 5th and Hastings!" She
shouted breathlessly into her wire. "In pursuit north down 5th
street
and requesting back up." She pushed herself to the limit, ignoring
her aching limbs. She wished she could take her shot, end this
nightmare and get back to Mulder. There were, however,
onlookers to consider. They were few at that time of night, but
most were drunk and therefore unpredictable.
When a police car came into view at the top of the street, the perp
quickly changed direction and ran down a darkened side street.
She followed, gaining some ground with his change of direction
and the fact that his damaged leg seemed to be slowing him down.
Ahead she could see another police car pull into the end of the
street. She realised that he was now completely cut off.
"FREEZE you Bastard!" she yelled.
He had just noticed his exit was blocked. She used his indecision to
her advantage. She holstered her weapon and quickly caught up
with him. She hit him with her full body weight, wrapping her
arms around both of his legs in a full tackle. Her momentum
brought him down heavily to the ground. He lashed out, managing
to shake one of his legs free of her grasp. He kicked out, catching
her in the side of the head. She momentarily lost her grip and fell
away from him. She saw the glint of metal as the blade came up
from his side and felt the impact of the weapon to her stomach. She
fell backwards with the blow. He got up and ran towards the back
of a warehouse, making it possible for her to take a clear shot
without putting the other officers in the line of fire. She fought
the
pain and used her last reserves of strength to draw her weapon and
pull the trigger. The last things she heard were pounding feet and
garbled voices before she passed out.
*****
"Scully?"
It was Mulder's voice. She opened her eyes slowly. Her eyes were
barely focusing on his face hovering over hers. She struggled to sit
up.
"Stay still, Scully. The EMT's are on their way."
"But, Mulder, I'm fine." She sat up again and suddenly wished she
hadn't. "Okay, maybe not."
She slumped back down again.
"How is your arm, Mulder?" she asked, noticing the blood stained
t-shirt that was wrapped over the wound.
"Fine, Scully, fine. How are you doing?"
"Thank heavens for Kevlar," she said while fingering the protective
vest she was wearing, under which she could feel the bruises
starting to blossom.
"Unfortunately, Scully, you were not wearing Kevlar on your head.
Looks like you will have quite the black eye going there."
"And there I was thinking that wearing that damn rabbit costume
was the worst thing that could happen to me."
Her headache was getting worse and she closed her eyes,
welcoming the blackness.
*****
5 days later
She felt like a battered wife as she limped down the familiar
corridors leading to the basement. The stares of other personnel
were almost too much to bear.
She opened the door to see Mulder sitting at his desk.
"Welcome back, Scully," he said, jumping up from behind the desk
and pulling out a chair for her. He squinted at her, his face
registering a silent 'ouch' when he studied her black/purple/green
eye and face.
"You should see the other guy," she joked, smiling and then
wishing that she hadn't.
"It looks worse than it did in the hospital."
"It feels better than it looks, if you can believe that. They just
gave
me the 'all clear' to return to work, but I'm restricted to desk duty
for a while at least. Sorry, Mulder."
"Hey, no problem. How is the arm?"
She sat down, flinching only slightly from the bruised ribs. "It's
fine Mulder, the strapping has to stay on for a while but I think I
got off pretty light, considering. The worst part was spending a
night in the hospital, trying to stay awake with a TV that only got
the Home Shopping Network. Talk about adding insult to injury."
"So, Scully, did you buy the fondue set?"
She raised an eyebrow at him.
"What? You don't want to impress your friends for only $20?"
She smiled gingerly. "Anyway, Mulder, how is your arm?"
"The stitches come out soon. That is if I don't scratch them off
first."
"Mulder…"
The phone rang, cutting off the lecture she was about to give.
"Mulder. Yes, Sir, she is right here. Yes, I will send her up now."
"What was that all about?"
"Skinner wants to see you in his office now. He says it is urgent."
"How did he sound?" She asked with a pained expression on her
face.
"Grumpy."
She rolled her eyes and got up to leave.
******
Assistant Director Skinner's Office
"Come in, Agent Scully, and take a seat."
She sat down nervously.
"The report from the Agent Rice was handed to me a couple of
days ago. I have to say what you did was foolhardy in the extreme.
You put yourself in danger and sustained serious injuries. Namely
a concussion, bruised ribs, a sprained wrist, and a pulled muscle in
your leg--a leg that I am sure I don't have to remind you, was in a
cast less than two weeks ago. Do you need me to go on, Agent
Scully?
"Sir, I…"
"No excuses, Agent Scully. It is with this action in mind that I
have no alternative than to give you an official letter to go in your
file. This is your copy, Agent Scully. I suggest you read and
inwardly digest."
"But, Sir…"
"FBI Regulations, as you are aware, require you to read the letter,
Agent Scully, and then sign that you have read and received your
copy."
She gave a heavy sigh and opened the envelope. She read the
words, black against the page.
"…therefore it is the recommendation of this panel that Agent
Scully be given the FBI Award for Bravery, for the outstanding
role she played in the Warehouse District murders. In assuring that
no members of the public or police force were injured, and giving
no thought to her personal safety, Agent Scully brought about the
capture of this brutal killer. She is therefore requested to attend
a
ceremony to receive her award on the 30th of May and required to
attend a press conference after the presentation."
"…We wish Agent Scully the best for her future with the FBI and
thank her for the crucial role she played in apprehending Stewart
Christian…"
She looked up, her face bearing a stunned expression.
Skinner was grinning from ear to ear. "Congratulations, Agent
Scully."
"Thank you, Sir," she said, smiling.
"That will be all, Agent Scully."
*******
Press Briefing Room, J. Edgar Hoover Building, May 30th
The date was the traditional Memorial Day, a day to remember the
fallen who gave their lives so that the Nation could breathe freely.
Scully was grateful for the award, but breathing easily was about
the last thing she could do now. She hated having public attention
turned in her direction. She had only done what any good agent
would do, but somehow her reward was to have all eyes upon her,
not only at the ceremony but also at the press conference to follow.
Sticking needles in her eyes sounded infinitely more appealing.
Somehow, she made it through, accepting the award and managing
to not sound too uncomfortable at the press conference. As the last
reporters were leaving the room, her partner, who had been present
for the whole event, stood and walked toward her from his seat in
the back of the briefing room.
"Hey, I hear that George Stephanopolous would like you to meet
him for lunch. He wants your pointers on how to handle the press
next time he decides to take an important job," Mulder said upon
arriving at her side.
"Tell him to call me after the election. I may not be able to fit him
in until February," Scully replied without missing a beat.
"Do you have time for lunch with your lowly partner, then?" he
offered, while extending a hand to help her down the stairs of the
dais. He knew that her leg could still stiffen up after long bouts of
sitting.
Placing her hand on his forearm, she stepped down while saying,
"Sure, I'll have to check with my agent, but I think I am free for a
brief time right about now. I take it you're buying?" she asked with
a small hint of sarcasm.
His witty retort was stopped by what he noticed when he looked
down at her feet. There it was, plain as day. Dana Scully, his
impeccably put-together, effortlessly classic, well-dressed partner
was wearing two different colored shoes. Should he tell her? On
this, one of the few days on which she could stand up and publicly
be commended for a job well done, she managed to put on two
different shoes. He knew her. When she would look back on this
day, she wouldn't remember all the accolades; she'd remember the
fashion faux pas. He stopped dead in his tracks, trying to think
about how to break this to her. Scully was standing a few feet in
front of him, her shoes almost screaming to be acknowledged.
"Mulder, what's wrong?" she asked.
"Um, it's. . ." His words did not continue, but his hand gestured in
the general direction of her shoes. He didn't mean to hint that
something was wrong. Like so many other times, he just couldn't
help himself.
"What?" she demanded. And then, she saw the fascinating sight
that he did. "Oh, the different colored shoes," she said matter-of-
factly while she continued to walk on without him.
He quickly caught up. "Scully, I've known you for almost eight
years now. I've never seen you walk through the doors of the J.
Edgar Hoover Building with even a hair out of place. What gives?"
She lowered her gaze as she explained, "While we were out there
on the streets for this case, I had a lot of time to think. I thought
about those women, who they were, how they got there. When I
was getting dressed today, in my clean little world, I thought again
about them. I was here and they were there, universes apart, but not
so dissimilar. I needed to remind myself of that fact, so that I
wouldn't forget amidst all of this." She finished with a small wave
around the well-appointed lobby.
Her comment struck him, enough to make him stop right where he
was and consider the woman before him. While tiny, she
encompassed all that he held dear in the world - truth, honesty, and
integrity. He continued walking with her; it was easier to say the
"big" things while moving.
"You know you'll never end up like them," he said.
"It could happen quicker than anyone can imagine, Mulder. Do
you think any of those women thought they would end up like
that?"
"I know, but you'll never be alone like they are. You're stuck with
me," he said quietly while never meeting her eyes.
"What, like you'll rescue me or something?" She hadn't intended to
sound defensive, but sometimes. . .
"No, Scully. I just mean that I'll sit on the cardboard next to you,
that's all."
And she knew, as surely as she knew all the blessings in her life,
that he would.
END
Feedback: Treasured more than a warm cup of coffee!
sooziewoozie@telus.net
joemimi@prodigy.net
Our many thanks go out to The XScenes group for challenging us
with the following improv elements: canned dog food, a Millenium
Jack ball, the Home Shopping Network, a wheelbarrow, a deep
dish pizza, bongos, and Scully dressed in a horribly mismatched
outfit. Your creativity and kindness overwhelm us at times!
Many thanks also to the incredible beta team of Erly and Georgia.
Your thorough and thoughtful help have made us better writers and
we are grateful!
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