"Knowing Stuff" by Mo Phillips. Spoilers: None. Classification: VMA Feedback: moggy34@hotmail.com Rating: PG? Disclaimer: You know the drill. Summary: One of those "Mulder finds himself teetering on the edge of the Abyss" stories. xxxxx Scully hates the cold. She's never told me this but that doesn't mean I don't know it like I know all the other stuff about her that's she's never told me. Like that she sits up some nights watching creaky old horror movies, like she adores marshmallow treats - the cheap kind they sell to kids two for a penny - that the smell of formaldehyde makes her nauseous and that she loves me. There's other stuff too. But as much as I know about her she knows about me too. So, we're even. Scully hates the cold and she hates that she's out here in the middle of a frozen, ploughed field outside of Hobocken, New Jersey, staring at the stiff, lifeless body of a small child. Sheriff Plumtree - I kid you not - is stamping his boots just inside the taped out crime scene and slapping his mittened hands together, blowing out great billowing clouds of steaming breath as he tries to keep warm on this godforsaken morning. I stand still and keep quiet. Watching Scully work. Eventually she finishes murmuring her notes on the scene and positioning of the body into her little tape recorder and slips it into her coat pocket neatly retrieving a pair of latex gloves which she snaps on efficiently. She is still for a moment and I know she is thinking of her god and asking him to keep this child's soul safe. Then she moves closer, still on her haunches and begins to touch the corpse. "Been here all night, I think" She says matter of factly. Plumtree nods lazily, "Figured that" I look at him out of the corner of my eyes, reluctant to take my gaze from Scully, but enough to let him know how impressed I am by his observation. Which is not at all. Plumtree says nothing. Doesn't look at me, fixing his eyes on my partner as she works but I know he knows and I realise that Scully is going to have to remind me to play nice with the locals at some point over the next few days. "There's no obvious signs of injury..." Scully is half talking to herself now but both me and Plumtree are paying attention. "That was the case with the other two victims, wasn't it? " Scully leans back, her elbows resting on her knees and watches Plumtree as he nods sagely, "Yup. Cornelius figured they were suffocated." "I'm looking forward to working with Doctor Grey again." "He speaks very highly of you, Ma'am." Plumtree shoots a sly glance at me and I suppress a groan. Great. I'm only here to carry the famous Dr. Scully's bags. I realise Scully is looking at me with amusement glinting in her eyes and I know she knows what I'm thinking. I shrug and she nods once before rising stiffly to her feet and stepping back from the body. "Okay. I'm done here. Mulder..." I snap my head up, "Yup?" Scully hesitates for a fraction of a second then tugs the latex off her reddened hands, "You finished here?" I nod dumbly and turn to follow her back towards the edge of the field. Between us and our rental car is a frozen ditch we jumped over an hour ago. When we were still warm from the motel and the diner we breakfasted in. Now, I don't think I can persuade my frozen limbs to make the stretch. Scully skips over it like a youthful gazelle and turns to watch me make my run up. I stumble a little on landing and for a second her hand is tight on my sleeve as she steadies me. Suddenly, I'm not feeling the cold any more. "Meet you folks back at the station." Plumtree calls from the other side and we both nod and turn to get in the car. Scully's driving. Don't ask me why. Usually I drive. Control issues I think. Which is kind of ironic if you think about it. I'm the king of chaos but I have to be in control of the car. Maybe it's not that funny. Still, when Scully took the keys from the girl at the Lariat agency counter, last night at the airport, and held onto them I had the good sense not to get all petulant or peeved. She wants to drive. No big deal. I'll live. I repeat this mantra to myself as Scully hits the gas and tears the car down the single track ice rink that is masquerading as a road. Scully, Control Queen, drives like she's trying out for Daytona. All the time. I remember the real reason why I usually drive. She scares me too much behind the wheel of a car. Still, I'm buckled in nice and tight, there's a handy grip above the door and all my affairs are in order should the worst happen. I'm doing well today - I still remember to keep my mouth shut and not complain. We don't talk during the twenty minute drive back into town. Me because I'm scared to distract her from the road and Scully because she's thinking about this case. Thinking about autopsying that poor little dead kid. It was a girl. She'd been naked in the field, laid out on her back with her legs crossed neatly at the ankles and her arms splayed out at right angles to her body - like Christ on the cross. Jesus - we probably have some Jesus freak acting out his crucifixion fantasies with people too small to offer him any real resistance. I open mouth to share this revelation with Scully but she beats me to it. "Is it religion?" I nod, "Probably." And still I keep my mouth shut. That's all we say until we're both in the briefing room in the heart of the station house and Plumtree is addressing his troops. We're standing together on the periphery. The steam rising from the giant coffee mug Scully is nursing is bringing the colour back to her face and is causing the hair around her face to start to curl slightly. Now I open my mouth. Smiling slyly and leaning down to whisper in her ear, "You're steaming up, Scully." She shoots me a sharp glance of reproval before returning her attention to what Plumtree is saying. "... Dr. Scully is going to be assisting Dr. Grey with the autopsy this afternoon. I'm going to go over and talk to Mrs. Halbert, break the news to her and her husband." I realise Plumtree has been handing out assignments and that my name hasn't come up. I say nothing. Hanging back as people begin milling about. Scully hands me her half full cup and leaves without a word. I know she knows I'll be going with Plumtree to see the girl's family. We both know we'll be meeting up in a few hours to share our findings and chew over the case - maybe for half the night before I let her get any sleep. Plumtree pulls up as he realises I have followed him into his office. "Can I help you Agent Mulder?" He says my title like it's an expletive. I don't care. I smile a shit eating smile and nod. "I need to be there when you tell the family. I'd also like to take a look around the family home. Maybe talk to the siblings. There are siblings?" "Two brothers. Carrie was the middle child. I don't think that's a good idea." I nod amiably and reach behind me to close the office door. "Here's the deal, Sheriff. I can either tag along with you and that way when Agent Scully and I solve this case it looks like you led from the front or I go over your head and the bureau gets all the glory. Your call. Either way I'm coming with you to see the family today." Plumtree stares at me with such venom in his eyes that for a second I wonder which of us is the faster on the draw. Then he composes his expression into careful neutrality and nods diplomatically. "Seems like you and I may have had a misunderstanding, Agent Mulder. Of course I'd be glad of any assistance the FBI can offer on this case." "That's why we're here." I nod and open the door again. "After you, Sheriff." Plumtree drives. No big surprise. While he swings the big four wheeler casually around the streets of his town I review what we know so far. Two little girls, three now, murdered in the last week by person or persons unknown. I close my eyes and the dozens of black and white crime scene photos flicker on the back of my eyelids like some sort of perverted cartoon, switching so fast that there seems to be movement in the dead images. The three little girls could have been sisters. The first two, Mary-Ann Liebowski and Jenny Muir had been born in the same hospital within days of each other, four years ago. They went to different schools though. Had different GP's and Dentists. In fact had nothing else in common but for their deaths. I had a sudden vision of Scully in her blue scrubs poised with a scalpel above the sternum of Carrie Halbert. "Her Daddy's the Minister at the Presbyterian Church." I open my eyes and stare at Plumtree's profile for so long that he gets twitchy and glares back at me. "What?" He demands. My stomach has turned to ice and I feel sick. "We'll need back up." I hear my voice but hardly recognise the dead tones. "What?" Plumtree hauls the car over to the kerb and jams the brakes on "What the hell are you talking about?" I don't know how to tell him. How to explain that I know who killed all three of these children and why. "Call Scully. " I lean my temple against the icy glass of the side window and breathe as slowly as I can through my mouth. "Ask if she found semen. There was semen on the other two but not on his baby girl. He killed her to save her from himself. It was the only way...the other two... were substitutes for her. He thought if he used them he could stay away from her. But the temptation..." Plumtree stares at me a little while longer then does as I ask. I'm only vaguely aware of him talking. Of him listening to Scully confirming my suspicion. He hangs up the cell phone. "How did you know?" His voice is dead now too. "I've seen it before. We'll have to be quick. He'll know we're coming and will probably try to escape." "Jesus" Plumtree hits the gas at the same time as reaching for the radio mike to call for back up. I'm no help to him at all. All I can do is sit hunched over in the passenger seat and shiver, trying to hold on to my breakfast. I already know that we're too late. I don't really know much else about it. I sat in the car while Plumtree and his deputies crashed their way into Halbert's house. I found myself staring at the iron cross atop the spire of the church down the street as Plumtree came out again a few minutes later. He stared at the bright blue sky for a minute or two before opening the door beside me and leaning in. "He killed them all. Suffocated the two boys and cut his wife's throat. Hung himself in the basement." I close my eyes against the brightness of the day and nod. Plumtree closes the door quietly and walks away. Case closed. I don't know what time it is when Scully's light touch in my hairline wakes me up. It's dark in the motel room but for the yellow glow from the half closed bathroom door. I'm lying on my belly on the bed in her room and I feel like my back is breaking. I groan and press my sleep creased face back into the pillow as she moves around in the darkness. I hear her slip out of her winter coat and hang it neatly in the closet, step out of her shoes - her feet have to be killing her - and sigh as she stretches her spine. I wince in sympathy as I hear vertebrae pop. "We're getting to old for these late nights, Mulder." Her voice is weary, worn. The mattress at my right hip depresses as she sits down and runs her fingers through my hair again. "You awake, G- man?" I make some kind of noise that makes her muss my hair some more then she sighs and lies down on her back beside me. I move the hand that has been stuffed under the pillow near my face and stroke her wrist lightly. She turns over to face me, taking my hand in both her own and brings it to her face. She rubs my knuckles against her chin and smiles a sad little smile. "I hate these cases." She admits softly. I move - creakily - onto my side, propping my face on my hand and wait for her to say more. She doesn't. She just closes her eyes and snuffles down into the bed, my hand still clasped firmly in both of hers and in a few moments is sleeping the sleep of the just. I just lay there for a while, watching as she relaxes. Then I put my head on the pillow besides hers and close my eyes. We don't dream like this. She; alone in her room, and I; alone in mine, would be waking up crying and shaking in the grip of some nameless terror compounded from the realities and the fantasies that we have encountered. Like this; lying on top of the covers, close but only touching with extremities, somehow we keep each other from the nightmares. It's a concession to frailty that she allows herself only rarely although I know she would grant it me more often. Sometimes the struggle not to take that comfort seems futile. Something inside me dissolves suddenly and I start to laugh, pushing my face into the pillow to try to muffle my hysteria but Scully wakes anyway. Leaning over to grasp my shoulder, trying to make me turn to face her. "Mulder - What? What is it?" I can't talk. The enormity of the stupidity has me overwhelmed and all I can do is howl with laughter - except I'm crying now. Sobbing great fat, snotty tears into her neck as she pulls me over her and hugs me to her fiercely, wrapping herself around me. I think I've finally lost it. Or found it. I don't know. The last thing I remember is her cool little hands stroking my face and neck and her thighs tight around my hips as I sink slowly, gracelessly, into unconciousness. As the dawn edged greyly into the room I became aware again. I was lying on my back, under covers pushed messily to my waist. Alone. For a second the void threatened to suck me down again but a sound from the bathroom, a Scully sound, yanked me back to the here and now. My eyes drifted closed again, hot and gritty with the aftermath of my night time display. Oh man - I was lucky Scully hadn't sent for the men in white coats. "Hungry?" I open my eyes to find a PJ'd Scully standing at the side of the bed with her hands on her hips. She looks like she hasn't slept and I beat myself up for that for a second until a quirk of her eyebrows reminds me that she just asked me a question. "Uh - no. Thanks" I pull myself up to slouch against the head board and realise that I'm only wearing my jockey shorts. I pantomime lifting to covers to look at my state of undress then give Scully a look of mock horror. She snorts and plops onto the bed. "Nothing I haven't seen before." Then she's looking at me intently, studying me. "What was that, Mulder?" She asks softly, as if not to startle me. I consider lying. For the nanosecond it takes me to see that she sees I'm considering it. Then I tell her the truth. "I realised that I can't be without you." She blushes and looks more confused than any one that smart has a right to. I realise more is needed. "Last night, Scully, I guess - I guess it all just got to be too much. Trying to stay sane while trying to resist that which keeps me sane. The ridiculousness of it all just hit me like a truck. " Now she's staring at me like I just told her my real name is Marvin and I hail from the planet Vulcan. I worry about those men in white coats for a minute while she turns away from me and stares at the pattern in the carpet. "Scully?" She must have heard the panic in my voice, even though I tried real hard to sound cool, calm and collected, because, although she doesn't turn to look at me she does reach for my hand and lightly brush her fingertips across mine. "Scully. It's okay. " I can hardly hear my voice for the pounding of my pulse in my head. "I mean... I don't expect any reciprocation. I mean... " I'm sweating now, terrified. "Forget what I said, Scully. I just freaked out okay? It was nothing... " I know I'm babbling but right now I'm so scared that I've just killed our, our - whatever the hell this thing is between us: friendship? partnership? - for the sake of telling the goddamned truth and I'll say anything, do anything, deny anything to take the words back and make everything okay again. "Mulder, Shut up." Scully has her head in her hands and her elbows on her knees. My mouth closes like a trap and I think I forget to breathe while I try to hear what's going through her mind. Then she lifts her head, turns and smiles at me. "Idiot." She says it fondly. I'm the one who's confused now. I articulate it well. "Huh? " "Idiot." She says again, this time with a slight sting in her voice. "Don't you know how long I've been waiting for you to catch up? " She shakes her head slowly then says it again softly, "Idiot. " I shrug and realise that I have absolutely no idea what happens now. I stare at her for an eternity until she rolls her eyes impatiently, stands up, lifts the covers and slips into the bed beside me. I blink at her stupidly for a minute then catch on. "Oh. Are you ... I mean... Scully.... " "Get down here, Mulder. " She orders, brushing aside my lame attempt at gallantry. Now I get it. I finally get it and the knowledge makes me grin broadly. "Yes ma'am. " End.