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Jabberwocky (02/02)
AUTHORS: The Sybarite Collective (bcfan, MaybeAmanda, Amy
(Spookey247) Tesla, msk, Lucy Marchmont, kmom)
Feedback: thesybgroup-owner@yahoogroups.com
Site: http://www.geocities.com/syb_collective/jabberwocky.html
Rating: R
Category: BirthdayFic
Spoilers: Bad Blood
Archive: Sure
Very Special Thanks Euphrosyne for beta above and beyond.
Chris Carter owns M&S; Fox owns The XFiles; we own this story;
Sybil is her own woman.
Dedication: To Sybil on her 28th! Happiest Birthday!
XxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxX
The Red Queen Cabaret was certainly not the sort of place Mulder
would hunt for modern-day vampires. Club Tepes, the scene of his
last encounter, was cold and industrial. This bar was straight
out of a 'Gunsmoke on acid' nightmare. Heavy tapestries depicting
Old West dance hall girls hung on the walls of the mid-sized
club. A huge, old-fashioned bar and barstools ran down one wall.
Wooden tables and chairs, crowded with an amusing assortment of
revelers - everything from weekend cowboys to Italian-suited
bankers - filled the floor. The music was nothing but country,
and the strains of Willie Nelson's "Whiskey River" poured over
the crowd like the mellow liquid it spoke of.
It didn't take Mulder long to spot Sybil's boss and his
doppelganger. They stood out like the mammoth figures they were,
with their white hats and roaring laughter. Unfortunately, it
seemed Mulder and Sybil stuck out as well. Cool fingers slid
across Mulder's hand.
"Oooh, Sybil honey! Introduce us!" said a low voice. Mulder
glanced over his shoulder and saw the tallest, most garishly
dressed female impersonator he'd ever seen.
"Oh, hi, Dan - I mean, Diandra," said Sybil, her voice and face
showing total shock and dismay. "This is, Mul- uh, Marvin. He and
I met at the, uh, Menger bar and then decided to come here.
Marvin, this is Diandra, my office manager."
Damn! Mulder thought. Sybil had given away their base of
operations. He successfully maintained his composure. "Hey. Sybil
said this is a hoppin' place. Is she right?"
Diandra's predatory smile came close to Mulder's face. "Depends
on who you want to hop, darlin'. Sybs, you go, girl! And be sure
to stop by and see me at the Weissmans' table before you leave."
He/she winked. "Never hurts to score a few points with the
bosses, know what I mean?" After lightly kissing Sybil on the
cheek, Diandra slunk off.
Mulder turned on Sybil. "What were you thinking? No more real
information, okay?"
The young woman was on the verge of tears. "I got scared!
Diandra's been watching me for months. I think he knows I've been
checking the insurance payments to Peaceful Slumbers and studying
modern vampires."
"Is he one of them?"
"A vamp? No, I've seen him working on his tan. But what are we
going to do?"
"We'll create even more suspicion if we don't go over there. Pull
yourself together and let's get our story straight. We've just
met, you're a little drunk. Let me do the talking." He grabbed
her hand and looked into her eyes. "And please know, this is just
for effect."
At that point, Mulder's right hand slid around Sybil's neck as
his left one found her bottom. "They're playin' Merle," he
whispered in her ear. "Let's groove, babe."
XxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxX
Back in the hotel room, Scully had gone over the sparse evidence.
Yes, it was clear that the insurance company files Sybil had
provided them with were falsified. She was a forensic
pathologist, not a forensic accountant, but Pete Roberts'
contributions from Peaceful Slumbers showed their books were
cooked as well. Scully was still running the pictures of the
Weissmans through the FBI database when she looked closely at the
Polaroids from Maynard's apartment. That couldn't be - she took
the photo and ran into the bathroom to look at it under stronger
light.
It was.
Shit shit shit!
XxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxX
"Why, Sybil, I don't think we've ever seen you here at the Red
Queen before," drawled Leonard Weissman, as he stood and took her
hand lightly. "And you've brought a friend, how nice!" His beady,
pig-like eyes came to rest on Mulder. "Have you known our darlin'
Sybil long, Mr...?"
"Page. Marvin Page. No, we just met. I'm in town on business and
Sybil said she'd show me some Texas hospitality," Mulder said as
he grinned at Sybil and pulled her close.
"Not many people know about the Red Queen," said Dan/Diandra, his
hands shuffling a deck of cards. "Do you know who the Red Queen
was, Sybil?"
"Sure." She tossed her long, red hair. "Alice in Wonderland.
She's the one who wanted the white roses painted red."
"The one who said, 'Off with her head!' to Alice," chuckled
Lawrence Weissman.
Diandra leaned across the table and hissed, "She just *hated*
that nosy little girl!"
Just then Mulder's cell phone rang. "Sorry, folks, business
before pleasure," he said as he fished it from his coat. "Page
Advertising, Marvin Page."
Scully's voice rang out, "Mulder, it's a trap! I looked at the
pictures from Maynard's more closely and saw someone standing in
the shadows outside Maynard's apartment building. It was Pete
Roberts! He's setting Sybil up! Get out!"
"Sorry, I'm not at the office right now and I don't have any
account information with me right now. Call back and I'll let it
go to voice mail." Mulder switched off the phone and put it back
in his pocket. Only Scully could convey equal amounts of worry
and irritation at his endangerment within a warning.
"Marvin, honey?" queried Sybil, a red eyebrow arching.
Mulder ignored her and faced the watchful Weissman twins with an
apologetic smile. "Sorry for the interruption, but there's no
rest for the wicked in advertising. Sometimes I long for a job
where I'm not constantly on call, where my evenings are my own,
and I can just socialize in peace with a pretty little lady like
Sybil." To emphasize his point, he draped his arm around her
shoulder once more, and squeezed just a little too hard in the
hope she would comprehend his intended warning of their danger.
Judging by her noisy yelp, she didn't.
"Perhaps you're just in the wrong line of work, Mr. Page,"
suggested one of the Weissmans. "Evening work can be such fun,
and I find you meet the most interesting people at night."
"Contrariwise," said his twin, "Mr. Page may be in the right work
but at the wrong time."
"I like ordinary working days with regular hours," said Sybil,
looking confused. "Evening jobs leave no time for going to bars,
and hours and hours of over-time just screw up my metabolism."
Mulder glanced round the cabaret once more. What had seemed on
entering to be a conventional western bar with live entertainment
was now taking on a more sinister and gothic ambience. The main
lights had been dimmed and a large chandelier hung from the
center of the ceiling, and smaller bracket lights on the walls
were now lit. The music, however, remained country. The stage at
the back was being readied by a group of stagehands, and scenery
and props were being used to create an 'Old Wild West' set.
The many patrons of the Red Queen now appeared to be watching
their table closely, some with a distinctly predatory air, and as
one man in a Stetson made a point of grinning at Mulder, there
was no mistaking his pointed fangs as they glinted in the eerie
light.
Weissman continued, "Regular hours, Sybil? A little bird told me
that lately you've been doing a little freelance work off the
clock."
"Me, Mr. Weissman? Ideal Insurance is my only employer, and I
wouldn't want to work for anyone else."
"Oh, I'm not saying you got paid for it, Sybil, darlin', I'm just
a little wounded that I may have nursed an ingrate to my
corporate bosom."
"Ingrate!" spluttered Sybil angrily. "Why, I've worked very hard
for you, for very little pay or thanks, and now you're saying I
should be grateful to you, too? You have a nerve, sir!"
Mulder nudged Sybil in warning, noting briefly that Sybil's fair
complexion was now turning an unattractive shade of purple.
"I gave you a pleasant job at Ideal Insurance, with a nice little
desk by the window. I turned a blind eye to your excessive
personal internet use, your surreptitious reading of novels, and
indulged your passion for gossiping with friends for hours at a
time on the phone. I recollect I even bought you a basket of
toiletries, albeit heavily discounted, from Beall's department
store last Christmas, and yet you chose to repay me by nosiness!"
Leonard Weissman now looked increasingly menacing. "Your
movements, young lady, have been monitored since the very
beginning."
Mulder rose to his feet, and pulled Sybil up by the arm.
"Gentleman, if you'll excuse us, it's about time Sybil showed me
back to my hotel. I have an early meeting in the morning."
"*We* were just getting this party started, Agent Mulder,"
the other Weissman said. "Pete, why don't you show the lady and
gentleman the way to the stage? Mr. Maynard is looking forward to
meeting our friends, especially Sybil."
Sybil squealed as firm hands were placed on her shoulders, and
Mulder sighed as he saw they belonged to Pete Roberts, their
friendly informant from the Peaceful Slumbers Funeral Parlor.
"With pleasure, Mr. Weissman and Mr. Weissman," said Roberts,
nodding to Leonard and Lawrence. "I told Sybil we'd handle this
on our own, but she wouldn't listen. The flirting sure was fun,
though. Sorry you had to get involved in all of this, Agent
Mulder."
"Nobody's sorrier than me," Mulder sighed. "Sybil, you have just
learned an invaluable lesson in crime fighting: sometimes your
source turns out to be one of the bad guys."
"Well, I should have known *that* from all the stories I've
read," grumbled Sybil, as she managed a defiant glare at Pete.
A snide smile was on Leonard Weissman's lips as he watched Sybil
attempt to pull away from Pete Roberts's restraining arms.
"Nosiness rarely pays, and, as you are about to find out, can
prove downright dangerous," He moved towards her and brushed her
cheek with one set of chubby fingers. "I used to think you were a
real sweet girl."
"Ditto, ditto! Sweet and pretty," concurred Lawrence Weissman, as
he stood on the opposite side of Sybil to his brother and stroked
her other cheek."
"Take your hands off her, you bastards," snapped Mulder. Vowing
to wipe the smug identical smirks from both brothers, he rushed
forward, only to find himself overpowered from behind by Diandra.
Leonard watched with amusement. "Don't worry, Agent Mulder, Sybil
is safe from us. But I have some friends - very good friends -
who will be only too eager to find out just how sweet she is.
Indeed, Sybil, you may prove more useful to Ideal Insurance
tonight than you ever were as an employee. I have to keep my
dangerous business associates happy, and I believe you will make
them very happy indeed. Have you ever been to The Red Queen
Cabaret before, Sybil?"
"No."
"And there's a good reason for that, Sybil. It's usually open
strictly by invitation to members only. You see, my associates
like to keep their entertainment strictly private. My brother and
I don't participate, but we *do* like to watch."
"Watch what?"
"They call it the `Theatre des Vampires' of San Antonio. Mr.
Maynard is the Master of Ceremonies, and his friends put on quite
a show, but they can't do it without a guest appearance from -
how can I phrase it - a non-professional performer."
"What the hell are you talking about, Weissman?" said Mulder.
The Weissman twins laughed and Leonard said, "Let's put it this
way, Agent Mulder. The guys here aren't as progressive as those
friendly tax-paying vamps I hear you met with in Chaney. They
like to do things the old-fashioned way. Mr. Maynard has
intimated to me that his sacrificial lamb for tonight's
entertainment will be Sybil."
"We just love fresh blood," murmured Diandra, caressing Mulder's
chest. "You look as good to me as a cool, tall glass of water in
a hot desert. You just seem to be radiating the message, `Drink
me'."
"Agent Mulder," Sybil asked as they were bundled to the right
wing of the stage, "did I tell you I don't just read detective
novels, but that I've read all the vampire novels of Anne Rice
and Laurell K. Hamilton too?"
XxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxX
Scully drove to the King William district of San Antonio at top
speed. En route, she vowed that she and Mulder would never
investigate a vampire case in Texas again. Seriously, she
thought, what kind of freaky odds were responsible for two
vampire cases, one right after the other? If Frohike so much as
suggested he knew anyone with information about anything
anywhere, anytime, ever again, she would seriously kick his ass.
She soon found Beauregard Street where the Red Queen Cabaret was
Situated. Oddly enough, it was right next to a cafe called
'Madhatter's Tea House.'
"What is it with all of this 'Alice in Wonderland' stuff?" she
muttered to no one but herself.
Two burly doormen stood by the entrance of the Red Queen with a
placard that stated, "Admittance to Members Only."
Whatever danger Mulder and Sybil might be in, demanding entrance
and bursting in on a pack of alleged vampires or vampire-wannabes
as an F.B.I. agent was probably not the safest way to rescue
them. Nor was there any point in asking the San Antonio police
department for help - Father McCue and a fount of Holy Water
would probably be of more assistance. She eyed the entryway and
wondered if there was any kind of access through an alleyway or a
trap door behind the adjacent restaurant.
The cafe was crowded with twenty-somethings. Scully marched up to
a waitress and flashed her badge.
"I'm looking for a way into the Red Queen Cabaret."
The girl stammered, "Uh, we like, share a basement, so, like -
"Show me. Now." A man coughed behind Scully. "Excuse me, ma'am, I
mean Agent Scully, but may I be of assistance?"
Scully turned to see the handsome features of Sheriff Hartwell.
XxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxX
Maynard and four other vampires had dragged Sybil and Mulder
onstage, and pulled long theatrical curtains closed. Mulder's
arms were pulled behind his back, and one of the men reached
inside his jacket and took out his service revolver, and patted
him down very inexpertly, before taking off his jacket, shoulder
holster and shirt. Maynard grabbed at his crotch. "Is that a
stake or are you glad to see me?" he asked. His pals all cracked
up. Mulder squirmed, hoping they wouldn't search further.
Sybil put up a good fight, but Maynard, and two minion women
dressed in long vampy - Mulder winced inwardly at his own pun -
dresses, handcuffed her. Maynard jumped six feet straight up, and
yanked down a set of long chains from the rafters. He paused to
watch as the female minions cut off Sybil's purple jacket with
exacto-knives.
"You BASTARDS!" Sybil hissed. "I got that on mark-down at
Neiman's!"
With a sudden yank, her sleeveless blouse was slit up the back,
and ripped in half, the torn pieces dangling around her wrists.
She raised her cuffed hands to her chest, as if to cover the
expanse of cleavage that was revealed by the lacy red bra. All of
the vampires stared at her. She gave Mulder a sudden, hard look
that said as clearly as if she had spoken it - "Get ready."
She brought her clasped hands down, and exactly like she was
going to offer them all a Mentos, thumbed the cap off a sleeve of
BBs. And flung them under the vampires' feet.
"Shit," Maynard mumbled. He and the women dropped to their knees,
counting. The vamp holding Mulder's arms let his grip slacken.
Mulder twisted away, trying not to step on the BBs now rolling
everywhere, and pulled his gun from his ankle holster.
Eyes steady on Mulder, the tall vampire slowly rose to his feet.
His cohorts stayed on the floor, crouched over the BBs,
apparently waiting for some kind of cue.
"What's going on?" called one of the Weissman twins from the
other side of the curtain.
"Yeah," the other one shouted, "give us the Red Queen, Maynard!"
When Maynard and the minions looked up, Mulder had the gun
leveled at them. "I know this may not kill you, but I'm betting a
bullet to the brain will sting a little," Mulder said. He smiled.
Arms crossed over her cleavage, Sybil came to stand by Mulder. "I
see a door just offstage," she murmured. "I don't know where it
goes."
"Anywhere would beat this." Mulder put his arm around her
shoulders. "Let's get going."
"Oh, this is a treat." Maynard chuckled, showing the tips of his
fangs. "I never leave the choreography to chance, but this little
scene is too delicious to resist. Yes, yes, I think we'll try a
new direction tonight."
With that he gave a rapturous gaze upward. The curtain swept open
and a blood-red light bathed the stage. There were whistles and
catcalls from the bar; the other vampires on the stage instantly
rose to their feet, acknowledging the applause with broad smiles
and theatrical flourishes.
Mulder brandished the gun, backing towards the stage door and
pulling Sybil with him. "Just keep moving," he told her in a low
voice. "I think Maynard's bluffing."
"How do you know?"
"His forehead is sweating."
"Ladies and Gentlemen!" Maynard called out, edging cautiously
toward Mulder and Sybil. "Tonight the Red Queen has a champion!"
There was an appreciative "ahhhhhhhh" from the audience.
"A champion?" one of the Weissmans called. "Hell, Maynard, he
ain't nothin' but a damned Yankee!"
Everyone laughed. Maynard took a cautious step toward them.
"Vampires don't sweat, Agent Mulder," Sybil muttered. "At least,
not in anything *I've* ever read."
"See how she clings to him!" Maynard gave a grand, sweeping
gesture. "See how she thrills to the feel of his flesh!"
"I'm not thrilling to anybody's flesh!" Sybil said indignantly.
At the sound of the word 'flesh' the audience gave a collective
sigh. Mulder could almost hear them licking their lips en masse.
"The Red Queen is consumed with desire," Maynard continued. "Her
bosom heaves. Her heart throbs."
Sybil started forward, one hand still clutching her cleavage.
"Leave my bosom out of this, you big disgusting freak!"
Mulder tightened his grip on her shoulder. "Sybil, no!"
The two female vampires were gliding toward them like a pair of
ghosts. Mulder waved his gun in their direction. "Back off!" he
said, watching Pete Roberts coming at them from the other side of
the stage, two vampires in garish makeup flanking him.
"We're almost there," he told Sybil, "get ready to run like hell
- "
Just then Maynard crouched and sprang at them.
Mulder got off one shot before Maynard knocked them both to the
floor. Within moments the other vamps had pulled Sybil away. She
screamed and struggled as she was carried off.
Maynard pinned Mulder to the floor. "That was highly amusing." He
didn't actually look very amused, with a bullet hole in his
forehead, round and dry as a steel grommet. "Take the rest of his
clothes," he snapped at someone standing behind him.
"No!" Mulder kicked at the hands that began pulling off his
shoes.
In response, Maynard wrapped a hand around Mulder's windpipe and
bore down. He was much stronger than he looked. "You will kindly
shut up," he said, then turned and waved his free hand at the
crowd, as if Mulder was a calf he'd just roped. "The Red Queen
will enjoy her champion!" he called.
The audience whooped and applauded. Mulder struggled as several
vamps stripped him down to his briefs and began carrying him
across the stage to the spot where Diandra had Sybil pinned
against a set piece.
Sybil's eyes were wide. "Agent Mulder, I'm so sorry!"
Diandra laughed. "When Sybil gets through with you, Yankee boy,
me and my homegirls are gonna savor you 'til the sun comes up - "
The audience was applauding wildly. On the other side of the
footlights Mulder could see the Weissman twins standing side-by-
side. They both wore identical expressions of lustful
anticipation.
Sybil could see them, too. "I'm gonna get you for this, you
bastards!" she shouted.
"Ladies and Gentlemen!" Maynard stepped to the front of the stage
and addressed the crowd. "We have a little bonus in addition to
this evening's main attraction. Direct your attention to
centerstage, please! I give you: The Red Queen's Passio - "
Maynard never finished his grand announcement. Something very
large hurtled across the stage, taking him with it.
"Everybody freeze and no one else will get hurt!" a male voice
shouted.
"Oh my god, it's a raid!" someone shrilled.
Suddenly Mulder found himself dumped in an unceremonious heap as
the vampires holding him joined the audience in a stampede toward
the front door of the cabaret. Plainclothes officers were
swarming in through the stage door. The officers quickly zeroed
in on the fleeing 'performers', taking them down with almost
preternatural speed and precision.
Mulder pushed himself up on his knees - where the hell was his
gun?
"Mulder! Are you all right?"
Scully appeared next to him; Mulder resisted the urge to clap his
hands over his thinly concealed manhood.
"I'm okay," he said, frantically scanning the stage. "Scully,
where the hell are my pants?"
Scully didn't even spare him a glance. "Where the hell is Sybil?"
He spun toward the spot where the vamps had been holding her.
"She was right over - oh shit."
The spot was empty. Mulder spun back toward the bar just in time
to see an officer hurling Diandra across several tables. Sybil
was nowhere to be seen.
"Scully - the Weissmans," he called. "Can you see them anywhere?"
"No," she answered from the back of the stage, "But Mulder, I
found your - "
Just then a woman screamed in the wings.
"Sybil!" Mulder turned and dashed stage right.
"Agent Mulder, I'm over here!"
Two enormous, Stetson-topped bodies were crowding Sybil against
the wall just beyond the flimsy side curtains. Mulder couldn't
see their informant, but the glint of a hunting knife in one of
the twins' hands was unmistakable.
"Just be still and give us a little drink, lady," one of the
brothers said. "We've been waiting a long time for this night.
You ain't messing us up now!"
"Screw you, you bastards!"
Lawrence Weissman ducked; a wooden stool crashed against Leonard
Weissman's shoulder. Shards flew everywhere. Both men staggered.
Mulder leveled his gun at Lawrence. "Freeze!" he shouted.
"Federal Agent!"
With an angry howl, Sybil launched herself at Leonard, shoving
the already unbalanced man to the floor and leaping on top of
him. "Nice little desk by the window, huh?" she snarled.
"Consider this my notice, you blood-sucking bastard!"
She snatched up a fallen brace from the stool and raised it over
his chest.
"Sybil, no!" Mulder heard Scully come up behind him. "He's not a
vampire yet! Don't do it!"
An officer dashed over and lifted Sybil off Weissman's prone
form. Two others flipped the big carcass over and began
vigorously applying a pair of handcuffs. Another one slammed
Lawrence against the wall. Mulder lowered his gun.
"He's - he's not?" Now Sybil's bosom really *was* heaving. "Put
me down!" she cried, and the officer holding her did as she
asked. "I don't understand, Agent Scully."
"He would have become one tonight, along with his brother, if the
vice squad hadn't come in time," Scully explained. "That's what
the Pageant of the Red Queen is all about, apparently. Here
Mulder," she said. "Your pants."
"Thanks." Handing Scully his gun, Mulder quickly bent and got one
leg into his slacks. "What do you mean, 'vice squad,' Scully? Who
the hell are these guys?"
"They're from Chaney, Mulder. I met them in the basement of the
business next door. They've been planning this take-down for
weeks, only - "
"Got the ringleader here, little lady," a voice drawled. "This
the fella you was tellin' me about?"
"That's him," Scully said. "Ask him if he's bought any insurance
policies lately."
Mulder's mouth fell open. "Sheriff Hartwell? What the hell are
you doing here?"
Maynard was wearing a shiny pair of silver handcuffs as Hartwell
dragged him off by his collar. "You might not believe this, Agent
Mulder," he said, "but we got standards. Rules you don't break."
He gave Maynard a shake. "Hear me, you exhibitionist bastard?"
Maynard writhed in the handcuffs, making a hissing noise. Mulder
could see that other members of the Pageant were being hustled
through the stage door in similar straits. There was a siren
wailing in the distance outside, growing closer every second.
"Sorry ya'll, gotta run." Hartwell dragged Maynard toward the
exit, calling over his shoulder. "Just hand those fat posers over
to the San Antonio boys, seein' as how they're like y'all, and
not like us." Turning slightly, he giving Scully a heroic smile.
"Nice to see you again, ma'am," he said, reaching up to tip his
hat. "You got my number if you ever need anything!"
"Mulder," Scully said, glancing down at his boxer shorts. "Your
pants."
"Oh," he said, hopping from one foot to the other as he got into
the other leg and yanked the pants up. He quickly buttoned and
zipped up. He realized Scully was looking at his chest, and she
seemed to like what she saw.
"Agent Scully, I'm so glad you got here when you did," Sybil
said, shivering and hugging her arms. The officer who had lifted
her away from the Weissman brothers took off his jacket and
slipped it over Sybil's shoulders. She smiled at the cop, who
flashed a broad grin back.
"Well, I'm glad I got here in time, too." With what appeared to
be some difficulty, Scully wrested her gaze from Mulder's bare
skin and turned to Sybil.
"Are you all right?" she asked the younger woman.
"I'm just ducky," Sybil said, slipping her arms into the jacket's
sleeves. "For the first time in a long, long while, I feel safe."
Mulder noted that the police officer was around Sybil's age. He
supposed the guy was what women classified as good-looking.
Certainly better looking than that buck-toothed hyena, Hartwell.
Mulder shivered. Goosebumps rose on his skin. Those vampires kept
their stage area awfully cold. Scully noticed his discomfort.
"Mulder, we're just about wrapped up here. We should drive Sybil
home and get you back to the hotel." Scully spotted his jacket
and shirt on a table at the back of the stage and retrieved them.
"I can give Sybil a lift," said the young cop, whose arm had
managed to find its way onto Sybil's shoulders. "I mean, if it's
okay with her."
"That okay with you, Sybil?" Mulder asked, suddenly amused at how
much less jealous Scully seemed now that Sybil's attention had
been drawn elsewhere.
"That would be *just* fine," she said, buttoning up the cop's
jacket.
Mulder and Scully watched the two young people walk away.
"Come on, Mulder. You must be exhausted. Let's get you to bed."
"Why, Scully, are you coming on to me?" he asked as they walked
to the car.
*******
Mulder winced when he touched the tender skin on his neck as
Scully opened his hotel room door.
"Does it hurt?" she asked, tipping his chin up to get a better
look. A purple bruise was forming, evidence of Maynard's
powerful grip.
"Only when I swallow. Or breathe," he replied, smiling wryly.
"Uh, Scully, I don't know how much you saw up there on the stage,
but Sybil and I, uh -"
"Mulder, I know all about the Red Queen performance. I know you
were forced to participate. Sheriff Hartwell gave me a rundown.
It's just -"
"It's just what, Scully?"
"There seemed to be a connection between the two of you. I
noticed it as soon as we met Sybil."
Mulder put his hands on her shoulders and looked into her eyes.
"Scully, do you want to know what I was thinking when we met
Sybil? I thought she was a pretty, smart, interesting, outgoing,
charming, vivacious -"
"- you can stop now -"
"- woman, but she wasn't you."
Scully frowned. "What do you mean?"
"You're the only woman I feel a connection with, Scully."
"With me?" she asked, her voice a hushed whisper.
"With you. So the question is, Scully," he began, "do you feel
that connection too?"
She couldn't speak. Mulder watched her carefully, every passing
second seemed to bring a little more sadness to Mulder's face.
Finally, she bypassed words completely and nodded solemnly.
Mulder smiled and pulled her into his embrace.
"Sometimes, you need to stop talking," he said into her hair.
"Me!" she squeaked when Mulder slid his hands under the hem of
her blouse and along the small of her back.
"Still talking," he said, and dipped his mouth over hers. "Stop"
kiss "talking." Kiss. "Stop thinking."
They fell backwards into his room, and both of them flailed at
the door to slam it shut. Still clutching each other, they crab-
walked and fell on the bed, ungracefully, but Scully didn't care.
She didn't care that she was fumbling at Mulder's much-abused
pants, and he seemed unwilling to pause what he was doing to take
them off. Then she felt his teeth biting at her nipple through
her blouse and bra.
"Wait, Mulder," she said. "Wait."
"Why?" he growled into the 'v' of her blouse.
'Why?' she asked herself. "Um - It's too fast," she improvised.
Mulder's voice was hoarse. "Fast?" Kneeling beside her, he began
unbuttoning her blouse. "Not fast enough. How many years is
this?"
"Mulder, I - " she began, not sure what she was going to say. Her
ability to form sentences was quickly evaporating. "I - I think
- "
"Scully," he said, concentrating on her buttons, which were
apparently giving him a great deal of trouble, "if you keep
thinking, I guarantee you, you will think yourself right out of
this. And if you think yourself out of this -" His hands
stilled.
"What?" she asked.
"If you think yourself out of this, the next thing you will do is
talk me out of it. And if you talk me out of it - here, today,
now - I am pretty damned sure I'll never work up the nerve to
even try to talk you into it again. Ever."
Scully blinked once, twice.
He looked up at her, his expression an odd combination of
amusement and caution. "And that *would* be a bad thing." He
looked down again. "Right?"
Scully tried to answer. Her lips moved, but no sound came out.
There were at least a 146 reasons 'Why This Should Not Happen'
according to the list she'd been mentally keeping for years. Oh,
'one day' she had assumed it would happen, but 'one day' had
always been hovering somewhere beyond the distant horizon.
But - 'Never?' She thought back on his words. 'Never ever? Never
ever ever?'
Mulder was right - that *would* be a bad thing. A very, very bad
thing.
She glanced down at his trembling hands. He was nervous, too, she
realized. He wanted this, too.
Wanted it as much as she did.
"Mulder?" she said, her voice barely more than a whisper.
His head jerked up again. His was wearing an expression she knew
all too well - the Panic Face.
"Scully?"
She took pity on him. "Here," she said, her hands moving toward
his. "Let me help you with that."
In answer, Mulder grinned. That was all the encouragement she
needed.
She made short work of the blouse, then smoothly slipped out of
her slacks for good measure. Mulder fumbled at the neck of his
own shirt hands still shaking. "Oh hell," he mumbled, and giving
up on finesse, ripped it off over his head.
Scully rose from the bed to meet his kiss, wound her arms around
his waist. Oh god, the feel of him, his muscular back under her
fingertips, the coarse hairs tickling her nose as she kissed his
collarbone.
"Hey, Scully - " he tugged at her bra strap " - how the hell does
this - "
"Front," she gasped. Oh god, the feel of his mouth on her skin.
"Yeah, I got that, but I'm out of practice and - "
"Wait, just - " She reached up, popped the clasp, grabbed his
hands and practically stuffed them under the nylon as it fell
away.
"You," he breathed, bending, licking, sucking. "You."
Rising to his knees again, he urged her back onto the bed, ran
his fingertips lightly along the top elastic of her panties,
moving up towards her belly, over both breasts to her shoulders,
then down both arms. "Oh my god," Scully gasped, her skin
erupting into maddening ridges of gooseflesh.
"Shhh." He grasped her wrists and drew her arms slowly over her
head, settling his long body over her, his chest pressed against
her breasts, his mouth everywhere. Scully suddenly felt
overwhelmed - his mouth so insistent, so soft; his wet kisses
like moving water, each wave deeper than the last. His body was
hot, radiant, and she could feel him burning, even through the
coarse denim rubbing maddeningly against her thin nylon
underwear.
Denim? What the -? Her hand moved lower. He was still wearing his
jeans.
Something had to be done.
While she had him off-balance, she wriggled toward the head of
the bed, put her hands against his chest and shoved. Mulder
flipped willing onto his back.
"Scully?" he asked as she reached for his fly.
"Strip search," she deadpanned.
He laughed. "God, I love you."
She froze. "You - you what?
"What?" he asked, sounding almost insulted. "This is news?"
"No," she answered slowly. And it wasn't, not really. All denial
aside, Scully knew a guy didn't chase you all the way to
Antarctica just because he wanted you in the office to do the
paper work. "No. I guess it's not."
"Good." He sat half the way up and drew her into an impassioned
if awkward kiss. "Glad we got that straight. Now, where were
we?"
She shoved him down again. "Strip search, remember?"
"Oh, you brute."
Her smile returned. She took a deep breath and set to work on the
fly button, then the zipper. He lifted his hips most helpfully
when she reached for his waistband, and wriggled impatiently when
she carefully but quickly tugged his pants down. It might not
have been the most elegant job of undressing someone she'd ever
done, she reflected as she tossed the garment to the floor. She
was definitely going to have to find a way to get more practice.
"Now," she said, eyeing the bulge in his briefs appreciatively
and using the most sinister voice she could muster, "where 'did'
I leave my gloves?"
"Oh, no, you don't!" Mulder sprang up from the bed and pinned
her flat on her back in a heartbeat.
"Oh, yes, I do!" she answered, struggling more from surprise than
any real desire to get away.
Before she knew it he had her in a scissor-hold, his erection
pressing against her hip, his breath hot in her ear.
"Oh no you don't," he growled, laughter in his voice.
"Oh yes, I do," she said softly, all at once feeling deadly
serious. "I do."
He nuzzled her neck. "Do what?"
She couldn't hold him tightly enough. "What you said before.
The - the love thing."
Mulder stopped what he was doing. "'The love thing'?" His brows
rose. "What about 'the love thing'?"
"I -" she began. She swallowed. "Me too, Mulder. Me too."
"Ah, well, then," he said, planting a row of soft kisses along
her jawline, "I can die a happy man now, can't I?"
"Oh no. Not yet you can't." She slipped her fingers into his
briefs. "I have plans for you, Mulder." She squeezed gently. "Big
plans."
His eyes narrowed, ever so slightly. "Then what - " he rasped,
"what are we waiting for?"
'What indeed,' Scully thought. She lifted her lips to his. His
mouth opened to hers, inviting her in, welcoming her.
'One day' had finally arrived.
About damned time, too.
XxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxX
He didn't know if he could get used to Scully smiling this much.
Her lips were curved above the rim of her Starbuck's Mocha Java
as she cast a sidelong glance at him. Mulder wasn't sure if he
could keep his hands off her if she kept it up.
"I hope it's not too early to stop at Sybil's," she said.
He tried to remember if Scully always sounded this sexy in the
morning.
The plain fact was, things would always be classified as before
and after last night. Before had been wonderful, but after was
proving to be beyond belief.
There was something very different about Scully and it wasn't
entirely due to the warm blush of beard-burn on her face. No,
there was a sparkle in her eyes that he'd longed to see. He
wondered if he appeared changed or if his transformation was
internal.
"Not much choice if we're going to make our flight," he replied.
"You know what I want to do when we get back to DC?"
"I have a rough idea," she said.
Oh yeah, her voice was definitely sexier this morning.
He stopped the car in front of Sybil's apartment, grinning as he
noted the police cruiser in the driveway.
Scully shrugged, laughing, and reached into the backseat for Sybil's
Polaroid camera.
"This is going to be interesting," she said, following him up the
path to the front door.
Mulder's hand was raised to knock when the door swung open,
revealing the young officer from the night before and Sybil. The
officer was dressed in the same jacket and slacks he'd worn last
night and Sybil was gorgeous in her dishabille, cheeks rosy and
hair tangled.
"Agent Mulder!" she exclaimed, flipping a silky mass of curls
over her shoulder. "And Agent Scully!"
The four of them looked at each other. The young cop had the good
grace to look a little sheepish. Sybil studied Scully's face
carefully, no doubt taking in the pinkened cheeks and twinkling
eyes, and turned her attention to Mulder, a smile gradually
blooming on her face.
"We brought your camera back," Mulder said blandly, hoping to
deflect some of that amused interest.
"And we wanted to thank you for all your help," Scully said,
offering her hand to the other woman. "I'm sure it was a
frightening experience, but you helped solve a serious crime."
"It was pretty scary," Sybil agreed. "But I feel safe now." She
smiled up at the good-looking young police officer. "And I
wouldn't have missed this experience for the world."
"Neither would we," Mulder and Scully said together.
"In fact," Sybil continued, "how would you feel about posing for
a snapshot as a memento of this big adventure?"
"As long as we can have a copy ourselves." Mulder smiled at
Scully's eager reply, and encircled her shoulders in a loose hug
as Sybil snapped the shutter twice.
Scully carefully pinched one of the drying photos by its edge
while Sybil held the other.
Mulder held out his hand. "Would you like me to take a photo of
you two?"
Sybil grinned and nodded, then snagged her new beau's arm as he
seemed to sag backwards. "You okay there, honey?"
"Sure thing, babe - but I gotta get to work. Maybe another time?"
Sybil tightened her grip and flashed a determined smile. "Only
take a minute. Sure thing, Agent Mulder."
Mindful of the officer's reluctance, Mulder quickly pressed the
shutter twice. "Here you go," he said to Sybil, thrusting both
camera and photo her way and handing Scully their copy.
The young officer flashed a blinding smile. "Gotta go now," he
said, taking a moment to plant a rather juicy kiss on their
former informant. "See you tonight?"
"You bet," she answered, fairly swooning as the officer headed
for his car. "It's my birthday," she told Mulder and Scully
brightly. "Wayne's taking me out for dinner."
XxXxXxXxXxXxXxX
"Mulder," Scully said, as they headed for the airport a few
minutes later.
"Hmm?" Mulder looked over.
She held the two Polaroids they'd just taken and was staring at
them with a troubled expression.
"What's the matter, Scully?"
"Look." She held up the photo taken of Sybil and the young
officer. It showed a pretty young redhead, smiling brightly, one
arm thrust out, wrapped around empty air.
"Wow." Mulder gave a low whistle. "No wonder he didn't want his
picture taken."
Scully frowned. "Should we go back, Mulder? Do we need to warn
her?"
"He was one of Hartwell's men, right?"
Scully nodded.
Mulder smiled. "I think Sybil can take care of herself, Scully."
XxXxXxXxXxXx
End Jabberwocky 02/02
Thanks for reading!
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