by Lisdean Warner
xangst@marina-pt.com
 

Okay, back to more serious plotlines. This one is a little bloody, and I'm
rating it R, though it's probably a PG-13ish sort of thing.

TIME FRAME: Somewhere after Pfaster, but well before Anasazi.

Disclaimer as stated in the XA charter. Sal and Janis are mine.

**************
Near Misses
by Lisdean Warner

Part One

Thursday
Alexandria, Virginia

It had been such a perfect day. A boring, but pleasantly uneventful, time at
work, full of cost reports and finishing files. She'd had a quick but
relaxing dinner with her mother, before running home to get happily dressed
to the nines for a evening concert at the Center. Sal and Janis had arrived a
little late, which had given her a bit more time to reinvent herself via
make-up and curlers. They all looked smashing, though all Janis could do was
sigh as they headed downstairs toward Dana's car.
   "I still don't understand how you Fibbies do it."
   "Do what?" Sal had asked.
   Janis raked them both with a grudgingly admiring eye. "Manage to look
so... *feminine*!" She looked down at herself with a disparaging snort. "I
just end up looking like a marine in drag."
   Sal laid a hand on her friend's arm. "Jan, you look fantastic. And
besides," she continued, sharing a teasing smile with Dana, "You *are* a
marine."
   "Thanks," Jan replied, mock-irritated. "No support from my friends."
   "I think that dress really suits you, Janis," Dana chimed in, apraising
her friend's tall form approvingly. "The blue of it sets off your eyes."
   "Right," Jan snorted again, stopping to look down at herself as they
reached the bottom of the steps. The long blue gown was a beautiful piece of
clothing, but next to Sal's short, sexy black shift, and Dana's elegant red
velvet, she felt like a scarecrow wrapped in taffeta.
   "Look, Janis," Sal persisted. "You just have to relax, okay? God,
sometimes I think you're as tight-assed as Dana."
   Scully shot her friend a vicious glance, then glanced pragmatically at her
watch. "Come on, guys," she said, headed once more for her car. "We're going
to be late."
   "Yes, ma'am, Agent Scully," Janis replied cheerfully as she followed Dana
around to the driver's side of the car. "You're so--"
   "LOOK OUT!" Sal's screamed warning came precious fractions too late, and
she watched the dark sedan sweep accross the streetward side of the car,
obscuring her two friends in noise and violence.
   Scully saw it coming just early enough to be afraid. She barely heard the
back door wrench backward on its hinges, couldn't feel the pain as it pinned
her painfully against the driver's door that she had yet to open. All she
could see as she lost consciousness was her friend's body being caught and
dragged by the sedan's momentum.
   She knew then that one perfect day was too much to ask.

Friday
Georgetown Medical

"Hey, Dana." Sal's voice sounded hollow, though she managed to muster a smile
for her friend. "How you feeling?"
   "Okay," Scully replied in a similiar tone, her voice husky and raw from a
bruised windpipe. "They'll let me out this afternoon."
   Sal nodded. "I thought so... You were really lucky, you know?" She
sniffled slightly and cleared her throat. "So I, um... I went by your
apartment to pick up some sweats and stuff for you." She offered the bag.
"And I checked your messages... Why didn't you tell Mulder what happened? He
left a message saying he hoped your *cold* cleared up."
   Scully dropped her eyes guiltily. "He's got enough going on, Sal." She
shrugged. "And there's nothing for him to do but worry."
   As if he didn't worry enough already. Since that... since Pfaster, he
didn't seem to want her out of his sight, and she didn't think she could deal
with another of his whipped puppy looks just now.
   Sal just nodded. "Oh. There was a message from your mom, just left it
before I got in. *Her* I did call back, just to let her know what was going
on. She said she'd be here as soon as she could. I made sure to tell her you
were all right."
   Scully nodded. One more person who had to worry too much. "Anyone else?"
   "Yeah, some guy. He didn't leave his name, just said he was sorry he
missed you, and he'd try back later." She fell silent for a moment, sinking
into a chair. "Janis's parents want to have the funeral on Monday. Full
military honors at Arlington."
   Another day off work. She could put it down to her "cold," but it wasn't
as if Mulder would miss the bruises when she walked in on Tuesday. The back
door had caught her just accross the neck, and it looked like someone had
taken a lead pipe to her. She sighed. "Guess I should call him, huh?"
   Sal eyed her appraisingly. "Best friends are supposed to be there to
comfort you, Dana. At least give him the chance."
   Scully nodded. "When I get home tonight."
   Sal knew, better than Dana, that she wouldn't call her partner. Not that
night, or the next, or the next. She protected him as much as he did her.

Monday
Arlington National Cemetery

The drive out had been silent, Scully staring out the window as Sal drove.
She didn't feel up to it. Just being in a car spooked her. <Shellshock,> she
correctly surmised.
   She had known Janis since they were both Navy brats in California, so her
parents were old friends. Her father, tight and proper in his Navy Dress,
wrapped his careful arms around her and gave a squeeze. "Are you all right,
Dana?"
   She nodded, tears threatening again, though she'd already shed too many
for her friend. She couldn't help but feel responsible, however
unsubstantiated she knew that feeling to be. "I'm so sorry."
   Jan's mother had hugged her close. "It wasn't your fault, Dana. We know
that." Her eyes flashed a little angrily. "It's that driver's fault! Is there
any word on leads? Any idea who he is?"
   Sal shook her head sadly. "They're calling it a hit and run. I only got a
partial on the license plate as he took off. It really wasn't enough."

The funeral left both women feeling empty. Sal took off to her father's after
dropping Dana off at her apartment. Dana knew of only one way to deal with
the emptiness--ignore it. And the best way to ignore it was to go to work.
She didn't think about what she'd say to Mulder. Didn't think about how hurt
he was likely to be that she hadn't let him know about the accident. She just
needed something to fill her. If it was anger at her partner's
overprotectiveness, so be it.

FBI Headquarters

Mulder was on his feet in a second as she walked through the door, striding
accross the room with a concern that exhausted her. "God, Scully! What
happened?"
   She let him help her with her coat, saw it safely stowed, and sat down
wearily in her chair before she tried to answer. "I had to go to a funeral
today."
   He didn't see that that was an answer to his question. "What happened to
*you*?"
   She looked up at him, the blankness in her eyes telling him that she had
tried to answer him. "Sal and... and Janis and I were supposed to go to a
concert on Thursday night. We were,,, hit" <what an inadequate word!> "before
we got there. Janis didn't..."
   Mulder dropped to a crouch beside her. "Oh, Scully..."
   "I just came from the funeral... I didn't... I couldn't just stay home."
   Mulder nodded. He understood the sentiment. "Is Sal all right? Are *you*
all right--I mean, really all right?"
   "Sal's fine. She was on the other side of the car..."
   Mulder looked up at her. The expected hurt in his eyes made Scully wish
she hadn't come in. She didn't know that she could deal with it today.
   "I'm sorry I didn't call you, Mulder," she said finally. "I really am
okay, and there wasn't anything you could have done."
   That wasn't the real reason she hadn't called, and Mulder knew it, but let
the matter rest. She was tired, sore, saddened. He wouldn't bring it up now.
He knew she didn't want to deal with it. What she wanted, her eyes told him,
was something to take her mind off of it all. He gave her arm a gentle
squeeze, and rose.
   "There's not much in the way of cases this week. It's mostly just
paperwork, but..."
   She smiled at him gratefully. He always understood, it seemed. "Right now,
that's about all I want."

Saturday
Alexandria, Virginia

By Friday, she had begun to feel herself again, though she was still a little
sore. The week had been just what she needed; paperwork and a few case
profiles for VCS. She woke on Saturday morning to an early telephone call,
debating whether to answer it or not.
   "Hello?"
   "Scully? Hi, it's me. Listen..." His voice was timid, that
I-don't-know-if-this-is-the-right-thing-to-do-but-I'm-going-to-ask-anyway
tone in it that made her smile. "I was wondering--if you're up to it--if
you'd like to go for a run with me this morning. Or breakfast, maybe, if
you're too sore for running."
   She smiled wider. "I have a brunch date with Mom and Melissa at ten, but
running sounds like a good idea. Thanks."
   He paused a moment, then tried to sound unconcerned. "Okay, great. I'll be
over at your place in about forty-five minutes, okay? That'll give you time
to get back and get ready for brunch."

She was already warmed up and ready to go by the time he arrived, and
watched, a little paranoid, as he opened his door and stepped around the car.
   "Ready to go?" he asked, trying not to notice the livid bruises on her
arms and legs. He was beginning to wince whenever he saw her, as the bruises
on her neck changed their colours before fading.
   "Yeah."
   "We'll take it slow, okay?" He could see that she wanted to protest, but
common sense obviously got the better of her, and she nodded.
   "I usually just run up around the park over on 15th. It's a good four mile
jog."
   "Sounds fine."

They had just reached the park when it happened. Scully was slightly ahead,
pushing her burn for the fun of it, when a van jumped the curb in front of
her. Her dive into the nearby hedge barely saved her, as the van slipped off
the sidewalk and sped on.
   "Scully!" Mulder was there to help her pull herself out of the bush,
watching closely as she angrily brushed herself off. "Are you all right?"
   "Yeah," she gritted, feeling the ache of her already-cracked ribs as they
began to throb again. "You get that idiot's license plate?"
   Mulder nodded, not taking his eyes off of her. "Yeah. Maryland plate."
   She nodded. At least one homocidal idiot would get caught this month. She
winced deeply as she took another breath, looking up at him wryly. "Guess
that's the end of this run."
   He shook his head at her as she led the way back to her apartment, walking
just slowly enough not to aggravate her ribs any more.

She was just overall sore by the time they reached her place, and she offered
to let him take a shower first, so she could use as much hot water as she
liked when he had gone. She poured a glass of water, and remembered that she
hadn't checked her messages when she returned home last night. Judging by the
time it took to rewind, she had a lot of them.
   <beep> "Hi, honey, it's Mom... I just wanted to see how you're feeling,
and remind you that we're meeting at ten-thirty tomorrow, not ten. Hope
you're feeling better, honey. Bye."
   <beep> "Hey, Dana." Sal sounded better. "You wanna go shopping with me
tomorrow afternoon? Just down to Baltimore for the afternoon, maybe dinner at
that cool seafood place? Let me know."
   <beep> "Hi, Sis... I talked to Mom about tomorrow morning. I have a
channeling class at nine, so I won't be able to make it to brunch until
ten-thirty. I just wanted to make sure you knew..." Her sister's voice turned
worried. "Listen, I'm kind of worried about you. Are you sure you're okay?
I've just got... I've got this feeling that something strange is going to
happen." Scully smirked. "And don't laugh at me, Dana! It's just a feeling...
Call me when you get in. Bye."
   <beep> "Hi, Dana." She frowned. She didn't recognise the voice. "I just
keep missing you, don't I? Guess you're out and about. Kind of early to be
out on a Saturday, though, isn't it? I'll try again later today. Bye."
   "Got a boyfriend in hiding?" Mulder asked from the hallway, smiling as she
jumped.
   She shook her head. "Don't recognise the voice, though it does kind of
sound like a guy I went to Quantico with..." She shrugged. "You done?"
   "Yeah," he nodded, running a hand through his wet hair to try to impose
some semblance of order. Lost cause, as usual. He walked up to her,
concerned. "You sure you're okay, Scully?"
   She smiled at him reassuringly. "Just report that guy, will you? I think
they should give people a psych test before they can get their license."
   "Speaking of driving," he said, holding her eyes when they tried to drop.
"When's your car going to be finished?"
   "I'm not sure," she hedged. "Replacing the door will take some time."
   He nodded. "You could just get one out of the Bureau pool, you know? Until
yours is fixed."
   "I know," she replied, in a voice that clearly told him to back off. "I'll
see you at work on Monday, okay?" She caught his arm as he turned to leave.
"And Mulder? Thanks for this morning."
   He smiled and walked out.
 

***********
Near Misses
by Lisdean Warner

Part Two

Perkin's Restaraunt
Alexandria

"And the guy just barrelled on," Scully finished, sipping at her orange juice
with a sigh. "There are just too many idiots with driver's licenses these
days."
   "Are you still sore?" her mother asked quietly.
   Scully shrugged. "A little, though the running this morning helped. Mostly
I'm just tired."
   Missy leaned forward, a little frown in her eyes. "Dana..." Her sister
could tell she didn't want to hear this question. "Are you *sure* these were
accidents?"
   Scully glowered at her. She already had a paranoid partner. She didn't
need her sister getting into the act. "Missy... Yes." Suddenly she wasn't so
sure, but she shook her head anyway. "Of course they were accidents. Why?"
she smirked, deciding to turn the tables. "Did you read my future in your tea
leaves or something?"
   Melissa looked a little irritated and dropped her eyes.
   "Oh, Missy, I'm sorry. Really. Look, two unfortunate accidents in a week
is unusual, but they were just coincidences. I think the guy in the van this
morning just took the turn too fast."
   "What about the other one?"
   Scully studied her sister's face. Missy was truly worried about this. "The
police are investigating that one." Her own eyes dropped. "No leads yet."
   Missy could feel that their mother was beginning to worry, and wisely
turned the conversation to safer subjects.

It was after twelve before they finished, and Scully convinced her sister to
run her home, so she wouldn't miss Sal, who was supposed to pick her up at
twelve-thirty, and would therefore probably arrive at one.
   "Afraid to drive, huh?" Missy asked teasingly as she pulled out of the
lot.
   "Not really..."
   "Oh, right! I remember when you hit that post with Dad's car. You wouldn't
even *get* in a car for a month."
   Scully snorted at the memory. It was really how she felt now. As if any
car she touched would just fall apart on contact. She smiled the shock-fear
away, as they approached her apartment.
   "Thanks, Missy," she said, turning to her sister as she opened the door.
   "No problem--and Dana?" Her sister's eyes got very serious, and Scully
almost had to laugh. "Be careful, okay? Call it psychic mumbo-jumbo if you
want, but I have a very strong feeling about this."
   "I'll be careful, Miss. I promise." As she walked up the steps to her
building, she muttered. "God, *I'm* going to get paranoid at this rate!"

Sal was late--as usual. Scully teasingly suggested that the first thing they
shop for be a reliable watch for the pathologist--then maybe she'd get
*somewhere* on time.
   Sal, as usual, was not impressed.
   She tried to talk easily as they wandered the mall, trying to ignore it as
Scully cringed when they passed the store where the three of them had found
the red velvet gown she'd been wearing that night. Sal still saw it all in
her dreams, and had hoped that this outing might make them both feel more
themselves. It didn't seem to be working.
   "Hey, Dana," she said finally. "Let's just get dinner and go home, okay? I
don't feel much like shopping anymore."
   Dana nodded sadly. It just wasn't the same.

Dinner was excellent; the restaraunt quiet before the dinner crowd came in.
They left at around five fifteen, planning to go back to Scully's house for a
movie and popcorn.
   They were just pulling out of the parking lot when it happened again--a
white sports car came within inches of clipping the front end of Sal's sedan.
The idea flashed through Dana's mind that this one just couldn't have been an
accident--he had had to go well out of his way to pull that close to the
exit.
   Sal sat still for a moment, marshalling her racing pulse. She looked over
at Scully, who had gone predictably white. "Dana, you all right?"
   "Yeah... Yeah, I'm fine. I just..." <No. Figure out if it's true before
you scare her to death.> "I'm fine. Let's just get back to my place, okay?"

They arrived without further incident, and Scully had almost convinced
herself that Missy had just spooked her, causing her to see what wasn't
there.
   Then she saw the answering machine blinking at her. She let it rewind,
waiting for what she knew would be there.
   <beep> "Scully, it's Mulder. Call me. Looks like we've got a case--in
California, if you can believe it. We're supposed to leave on Sunday, but I
can push it to Monday if you need to. Let me know."
   <beep> "Hey, Dana! Are you *ever* home?"
   "Sal," she called quickly. "Listen to this voice, and tell me if you
recognise it."
   "...I figured you were out with friends. Probably shopping or something.
Anyway, I won't be around for a few days, so I'll try again when I get back.
Bye."
   Sal shook her head. "Doesn't sound familiar. Why?" She stood straighter
suddenly. "Wait, I think that's the same guy that called while you were in
the hospital."
   "That would make sense."
   Sal frowned at her. "What are you talking about, Dana?"
   "I was nearly hit by a car again this morning, while Mulder and I were out
running. When I got home, that same voice was on the phone. Now again
tonight, after we almost get creamed? Coincidence has nothing to do with
this."
   "Someone's trying to kill you?" Sal asked, disbelieving.
   "No," Scully replied. "No, I don't think so. Someone's trying to try not
to kill me."
   "I don't get it."
   "Neither do I. But that guy this morning could have killed me easily. If
that sedan last week had been going just a bit faster, he'd have killed both
Janis and me." She sat quietly, musing. "He wants me to think he's trying to
kill me."
   They sat for a moment in thoughtful silence, until Scully grabbed the
phone. "Danny Valledeo, please. Yes, Agent Scully... Okay, can you tell him
I'll call him first thing Monday morning. It's important. Okay, thanks..."
She disconnected and dialed again.
   "Hi, Mulder, it's Scully... No, leaving tomorrow is fine." She fought to
keep her voice level. He wasn't that easy to fool anymore. "Did you report
that guy... It was stolen, huh? Great. Guess we'll never nail him now...
No... No, can't say I'm surprised, though... Yeah, I'll be ready at eight...
Okay... Bye."
   She hung up the phone, hand lingering on the reciever as she thought. Why
would anyone be after her? She couldn't remember any of the many people she
and Mulder had arrested who would have reason--or opportunity--to be after
her.
   And this was more than just random attempts. It was calculated... He'd
known where she was going, what she was doing... She walked to the window,
glancing out nonchalantly to check for anything strange. Nothing... How did
he know?
   "...going to tell him what's going on? ...Dana?"
   Scully shook herself and turned back to Sal, who stood in the middle of
the room, hands on hips. "I'm sorry, what?"
   "I said, are you ever going to tell him what's going on?" Sal's glare told
her that she'd better act fast, or the pretty brunette was going to call
Mulder herself.
   "I don't know that anything is going on, Sal," she stated reasonably. "I
don't want to make a federal case out of it until I know that there's
something to pursue." She tried on a sad smile. "I'm probably just being
paranoid, Sal... God knows after that accident last week, I have cause to be
skittish."
   Sal took a deep breath. Why did they always do this to her? Dana and Fox
both! The day could be going fairly well; pleasant, uneventful... Then
something would happen, and instead of letting it all just happen, they
started thinking these wild theories up--only to drop them a few minutes
later. It was fine for them. They got to get whatever ideas they had swimming
around in their brains out in the open, but it always left her imagination in
overdrive--thinking up conspiracies and plots. She wasn't in the mood
tonight.
   "Well, I suppose I should let you pack," she offered, clearly not planning
to stay.
   Dana frowned slightly at her friend's moods. "I guess the movie's out,
then?"
   "Not really in the mood for a movie anymore, Dana," she said, making for
the door. "I'll talk to you when you get back from California."

Scully wouldn't have said that Sal left in a huff, but she was obviously
irritated, and Scully couldn't really blame her. It wasn't as if she was
going to be able to concentrate on Mel Gibson tonight anyway. She sat down on
her couch and flipped on the television, using it as background noise while
she considered the possibilities.
   He was following her, obviously. Following closely. And he liked to play
games about it. Maybe the phone records she planned to have Danny pull on
Monday could give her  a clue as to the guy's identity. Until she got
something, though, she was going to have to be very careful. She tried not to
think about what this meant in terms of Janis's death. Her fault. Janis had
died because some psycho was playing games with *her.*
   And she didn't even know why.

************
Near Misses
by Lisdean Warner

Part Three

9:15 am
En route to San Francisco

Scully sat back in her coach class airline seat and tried to relax. She
ignored the puzzled glance of her partner--one of many that morning--and
grabbed her laptop.
   "Let me see that file again, Mulder."
   He nodded, still that avoided question in his eyes. She looked pale to
him; worried. And she had been so skittish as they drove to Dulles. Accidents
like the one she'd had last week weren't easy to get over.
   "Scully?" he asked quietly as she poured over the file. "Are you all
right?"
   "Yeah, fine." She sounded normal--a little preoccupied as she flipped
through the information before her--but not rattled in any way.
   Maybe he was the one who was nervous.
   Scully was one of the many women in the world that he felt he would never
understand. She kept herself very much to herself, and rarely let her
emotions get the best of her. That was a good way to be, as an FBI
agent--gave you clarity and purpose. Unfortunately, it also ate away your
insides.
   She pursed her lips at a piece of information, and he had to quickly avert
his eyes as she turned toward him. "What about these phone calls Sarah
Palfrey's roomate talks about?"
   Mulder shrugged. "No connection that I can see. They weren't
threatening--just a guy who kept calling while they were out, saying he'd try
back later."
   <Try back later.> Scully thought, nodding her head slightly. <Try back for
another murder attempt, I'll bet.> She looked back into the file. "What about
the other women? Any calls there?"
   Mulder shook his head. "They all lived alone. She was the only one with a
roomate."
   "Maybe we should have the local police pull their answering machine tapes.
Find out if he was calling any of the others."
   "Scully?" he asked, a look of consternation on his face. "If he was the
killer, wouldn't he have threatened her?"
   Scully tried to play it cool. "Not necessarily. He might have wanted to
scare them." She finally met his questioning gaze, mixing a little irritation
into her own. "It's something out of the ordinary, Mulder," she reasoned. "We
may as well check it out."
   Mulder nodded, and let it drop. Maybe it was just a hunch. He wasn't the
only person around who was allowed to have hunches, was he?

2:35 pm
1355 15th St.
San Francisco, Calif.

Janet Callery was very nervous. The house had the unfinished look of a place
that was beng shipped off in pieces. She had obviously taken most of the week
to pack up her murdered roomate's possesions, and it had just as obviously
been extremely difficult.
   "She didn't really go out much, you know," Janet was saying, wringing her
hands. "Sarah wasn't a prude, or anything, but she worked twelve hour shifts
at the hospital, and by the time she got home, there was just no energy
left."
   "What can you tell us about the phone calls?" Scully asked quietly.
   Janet moved to the answering machine and started rewinding it. "I guess
she got a few of them. See, she works days, and I work nights, so we
don't--didn't--really see a lot of each other... The, um, the person you
should really talk to is Kinney Sinclair. She's one of the shift nurses that
Sarah worked with a lot. They were pretty close."
   Scully nodded, jotted the name down. She wasn't surprised by the
information, Mulder noticed. And something seemed to be tickling the edge of
his thoughts. Some pattern he couldn't quite see.
   "Here's one," Janet said finally, pressing stop on the tape. "She said she
kind of recognised the voice, but she wasn't sure who he was." She ran the
tape, and Scully listened to the now-familiar voice with it's cryptic
message.
   "Hey, Sally," he said, all enthusiasm. "I still can't get you, can I?
Okay, well, I'll try back later. See you."
   Scully made another note. "Did Sarah seem at all nervous lately?"
   Janet thought about it. "A little, I guess. She was pretty jumpy the last
couple of days. Made driving with her just terrifying."
   "How so?" Scully had leaned forward now.
   "Well, she had a day off on Saturday, so we decided to go out shopping.
You know, spend some time together for once... Anyway, we were pulling out of
the garage, and she just slammed on her brakes as this van drove past, like
she was afraid he was going to jump out and hit us... Little things like
that."
   "Had she been in any accidents recently?"
   "Well, that's what I thought, but she said she was just jumpy for some
reason."
   Scully nodded again, sat back, and let Mulder run the rest of the
interview. By the time they were done, the sun was beginning to set.
   "What was that all about?" he wanted to know, as they slipped back into
the rental car and headed toward the hotel.
   "Didn't you notice that four of the other victims had been admitted to
emergency rooms for minor car accidents in the weeks previous to their
murders?"
   He shook his head. "Yeah... But accidents happen every day..."
   She smiled disarmingly. "Maybe they're just more on my mind lately." She
looked over at him as they reached the hotel. "Do you want to go interview
Sarah's friend at the hospital? She should be getting off shift soon."
   Mulder shrugged. "What are you going to do?"
   "I wanted to do a little more research on the other victims. There's some
kind of a pattern here. I want to see if I can define it a little better."
   Mulder was nervous about leaving her, that little tickling in his mind
back again with a vengence. "Why don't we both go over?"
   She smiled at his protectiveness. "I'm fine, Mulder," she assured him,
trying very hard to convince him of that. "I'll sit in my room on the modem
the whole time. Promise." She slid out of the car, turning back to him. "Call
me when you get back. We can go to dinner, and see what each of us came up
with."

6:30 pm
San Francisco General

Mulder braved the chaos of SF Gen's emergency room, making quietly for the
shift nurses' desk.
   "Hello, my name is Fox Mulder, I'm with the FBI. I'm looking for Kinney
Sinclair."
   The spare black girl behind the desk surveyed his ID quickly. "She just
got called in to help with a gunshot wound. Wanna take a seat and wait for
her?" She gestured to a quiet lounge nearby.
   "Thanks. How long do you think it will be?"
   She shrugged. "Shouldn't take too long."

8:15 pm
Hilton Central

Scully stared at her lists, the information  making more and more sense to
her. She'd found the link among the victims. A vague link, but one that,
because of it's very vagueness, made the killer easier to track down.
   At first, she had thought maybe it was a professional link. Three of the
women had been nurses or doctors... She included herself in the count to make
four. But that had been all. A couple were lawyers, a couple were waitresses,
one was an actress. She tried hometown links next. The three who had been
killed in Martinsville, Indiana had all lived there their whole lives.
Unfortunately, they were the only ones who seemed to have even seen Indiana.
She certainly had never been to Martinsville--wasn't even sure where it was.
   On a hunch, she had made a list of where each woman went to school. That
was where she had found her pattern. It was a pattern that started in
Indiana, and went from California to, frighteningly enough, the FBI training
headquarters in Quantico, Virginia.
   She didn't like doing this kind of research--having to add herself into
the equation. But she was all too obviously there. She and two other victims
had been at Berkeley for the same freshmen year, and, while the other woman
had dropped out early on, she was also a common link at Quantico.
   All in all, there were four common schools: Central high school in
Martinsville, Berkeley, UCLA, and Quantico. Using the dates of each woman's
schooling--adding her own in for an added component, and tracking any men who
might have been at each school during those years, she hoped she'd get a
short list of suspects.
   Then, she'd have to explain to Mulder how she'd figured it out.
   She sat back as her modem whined away at the FBI central computer,
thinking about the situation. Why was she so reluctant to talk to Mulder
about this? Did it really all go back to Pfaster?
   She had been horrified by what that unstable man had done to her--what he
had *almost* done--but falling apart in front of Mulder like that had
humiliated her more than anything the psychopath had done. She was Mulder's
partner--he was not there to take care of her. She was there to back him up.
   And she did her job very well, most of the time. Except that one. Except
the one time she had let the opposition scare her. She had gone running back
to DC, like a scared little agent just out of Quantico. So unprofessional...
   She was still lost in her thoughts twenty minutes later, when she heard
the scream.
   She looked down into the alley four flights below, catching sight of a man
and a woman fighting in the deep shadows. She didn't give herself a second to
think as she grabbed her gun and headed for the stairs.

The alley seemed even darker and more abandoned as she slipped around the
corner. The police were on their way, but if she was right, they'd get there
too late. She kept her eyes roaming, carefully taking in the woman's body,
crumpled in a heap by the trash bin. No sign of the man.
   She had just about reached the woman when she heard the tires squeal. She
didn't feel the impact that sent her flying.

9:03 pm

Mulder was too tired to think straight by now. "Not too long" had turned into
two hours, and by the time he finally got to speak with Kinney Sinclair,
*she* was too tired to help much. She did confirm that Sarah had had a few
near misses in the last week, but she didn't think much about it. "People
just drive crazy in this town, you know?" she'd shrugged. "You get used to
it."
   He was nearly to the hotel when he saw the police cordon. He pulled up and
approached a lieutenant, brandishing his badge. "What's going on?"
   "Looks like a robbery attempt. Guy got spooked and ran her over with his
car."
   He gestured to the mouth of the alley below Scully's window, where the
coroner's men were placing a small, spare redhead in a long black bag.

*******
Near Misses
by Lisdean Warner

Part four

Mulder ran right past him, ignoring the lieutenant's startled call to stop.
He approached the black bag breathlessly, praying that he hadn't seen what he
thought he had.
   But there it was. All he could see from the opening at the top was a
small, bloodied white face; red hair covering it, spilling over into the bag.
Without a word to the men, he reached out, a trembling hand pushing back the
mass of hair...
   And breathed a sigh of relief that was almost a sob. It wasn't her. He
shook himself suddenly for such melodrama, thinking how she'd laugh at him if
he told her that he had fallen so apart with a simple flash of red. He turned
and headed back toward the building.
   He reached the fourth floor with a tired sigh. Too exhausted to eat, he
might as well check in and see what Scully had found. She had left her door a
little open, probably wondering where the Hell he'd got to.
   But the room was empty. Her laptop hummed quietly to itself amid a sea of
paper. She was going to catch Hell for leaving her door half open. She was
probably downstairs in the restaraunt, having her dinner because she couldn't
wait any longer, and hadn't been careful enough about closing it. She was
lucky her laptop was still there.
   He dashed for his own door accross the way, fumbling for the keys as he
heard the phone ring. He caught it on the fourth ring.
   "Hello?"
   "Mr. Mulder?" asked the night concierge. "The police down here are looking
for Ms. Scully. I tried to call her room, but the line is busy."
   "Why are they looking for her?" Mulder wanted to know.
   "She was the one who reported the incident outside, sir," he continued.
"They need to have her fill out a report."
   Mulder got a cold tight feeling in the pit of his stomach, that tickling
in his brain now becoming a fire, as the image of that dead woman sprang to
mind again. "I'll be down in a minute."
   He strode accross the hall to her room, heading straight for her laptop
and the papers that surrounded it, hoping for some clue as to where she might
have gone, whether she had been taken. The computer was running a search.
Colleges, high schools... He lifted a paper nearby, and studied the lists on
it.
   Three of the victims under Central High, Martinsville; two under Berkeley,
which was circled; four under UCLA; one under Quantico--also circled.
   He sighed painfully. She'd found the pattern. She had found the pattern
that he hadn't--and the reason she had found it was because she was part of
it. Berkeley and Quantico, the phone calls and the accidents. She was a
target, too. And she had known it.
   So why hadn't she told him?

He reached the lobby just as a young beat cop reached his lieutenant. "We
found a gun, sir. Buried in the trash... Walther PPK..."
   The lieutenant ran a tired hand through his hair. "A gun, too? Great...
Dust it for prints... Jesus, what the Hell happened here?" He looked up at
Mulder. "And where the Hell's your partner, FBI? The night manager told me
she ran down here, telling him to call the police, then went outside and
disappeared. If she's still tracking the guy who did this, I want to know
about it."
   "Can I see the gun?" Mulder asked quietly, ignoring the outburst
completely.
   The lieutenant shrugged and his officer handed the now-bagged gun over to
him.
   Mulder took a deep breath. "It's hers."
   "Whose?"
   "My partner's."
   The leiutenant gave him a long hard look. "Okay, Agent Mulder. I want you
to come down to the station and explain this all to me." His beefy hand on
Mulder's shoulder brooked no arguement.

12:45 am

Mulder was ready to put a fist through the cinder block walls of the
Fifteenth's Precinct House. He had ranted, raved, threatened to arrest the
lieutenant himself for obstruction of a federal investigation... but in the
end, he had had to sit down and explain the entire case to the man. Every
second he wasn't looking for her ate at him, and by the time they were ready
to let him go, he was ready to scream.
   He started in her hotel room, planning to comb through her papers, to try
to find something that would lead him to her. The murderer killed quickly,
Mulder's mind whispered to him, the victims were never missing for more than
twenty-four hours before their bodies were recovered, dumped in likely,
visible places.
   He ended up having the information presented to him on an electronic
platter. The search that her laptop had been doing through the FBI central
computer had finally run it's course, and the result was three names. The
names of three men who had attended each of the schools on her list, at just
the times the victims had.
   One of the names he recognised--Frank Lorry. He was an FBI field agent,
and as Mulder dialed the local headquarters on his cellphone, he was just
betting that he was stationed in San Francisco.
 

2:36 am
Paradise Docks
Pier 13

In the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries, one of man's greatest fears was
that of being buried alive. That almost primal fear has been passed down in
folk tales and horror stories. It was the fear that set Dana Scully trying to
scream.
   She didn't do it well, actually--more because of the gag that held her
tongue than lack of conviction. She could feel herself, tied hand and foot;
could feel the wood enclosing her. She could feel... but she couldn't see
anything.
   At her whimpers, a strong hand grabbed her arm from the side, causing her
to notice the pain that coursed through every inch of her body--the pain that
had been masked by her terror.
   As she hit the floor, she stared up painfully, seeing now the short narrow
bed she had lain on. Her father had called them Sailor's Stows, and they were
essentially wooden shelves set in the wall, so that four sailors could sleep
stacked one above the next.
   A man's face slipped into her fuzzy view. It was a face that made her
momentarily relax. He was FBI. She remembered going through training with
him... The hard look in his eyes gave her pause. Oh, God... *Quantico*
training.
   His mouth twisted into a smile. "Hey, Dana! I thought you'd be harder to
get hold of, you know?" He laughed--like chewing glass--"Still, it's not as
if I didn't have connections."
   He gently untied the gag, and she considered screaming--right up until she
saw him reach accross her and grab the knife. She looked around the darkened
cabin, felt the boat rocking beneath her. No chance of being heard--they were
probably out on the water.
   "Why are you doing this?" she managed to croak weakly.
   He smiled again, as he brought up the knife to her bound hands. "With all
that time you've had to spend with Spooky-boy, I thought you'd welcome some
*real* male companionship."
   He straddled her hips, started to cut through her bonds, and suddenly it
was Donnie Pfaster all over again. The cedar smell of this cabin, the sound
of knife through twine--
   She brought her legs up, panic overriding the sharp pain in her left
thigh, and drove her knees hard into his back. He arched back off of her, and
she followed through with her feet in his chest.
   But he was on her again before she could even bring herself to her knees.
On her, and pummeling her, slapping her hard enough to knock her out.

2:48 am

Mulder's mind churned through the information as he headed for the docks.
Lorry had been removed from active duty following a wrongful death inquiry.
The required psych eval had shown a possibly dangerous instability,
previously unsuspected, but the bureau hadn't pushed for therapy. Mulder knew
from experience--they rarely did.
   The boat was--miraculously--exactly where it should have been. He didn't
see any lights, but he slid his Glock out of its holster, and stepped
carefully onto the decks. He could hear the sounds of a beating inside, and
he walked as quickly and quietly as he could to the cabin door.
   He needn't have bothered. Lorry was making too much noise to hear anything
else--most of it his fist in Scully's face, and the expletives that flowed
non-stop out of his mouth. Mulder could faintly hear the sound of ripping
cloth.
   "Stupid, *fucking* bitch!" Lorry was cursing. "Stupid, fucking ice-brained
*bitch!* You don't even deserve this, you fucking whore. Don't even...!"
   Mulder heard more ripping as he reached the edge of the doorway. He peeked
in carefully, watching Lorry's back as the man stripped what little was left
of Scully's clothing off of her unmoving body. He himself was already
half-stripped, and what he planned needed no imagination to figure out.

Scully heard the gun cock faintly, forced one battered eye partially open to
find out what he planned for her now. She was sure she was hallucinating. She
could swear she saw Mulder's outline in the doorway, heard his voice.
   "Get off of her, Lorry. Now!"
   She vaguely felt the man above her shift slightly, heard his chewed-glass
laugh. "No way, Mulder," he said coldly, as she felt the sudden touch of
metal on her neck. "No fucking w--"
   It all seemed to happen at once--she could feel the impact of the bullet
in the body above, feel the point of his knife drive through the exposed skin
at the base of her neck... feel the strength of her own breathing as it died.
She was going to die along with it.
   But *he* was there. Mulder. She could hear him dial his cellphone, hear
the call for help. But she could also hear the sound of her own breath as it
weakened, as the breaths became increasingly shallow, incresingly rapid.
   Oh, yes... She was going to die...

Mulder pulled Lorry off of her, ripping off his own coat and covering her
with it. He knew enough to leave the knife where it was, sticking out of her
windpipe like an obscene buoy. The one eye that Lorry's beating hadn't
swollen completely shut was pushing past the layers of bruises around it,
trying desperately to convey her terror. He put a trembling hand on her
forehead.
   "Scully?" he called, louder than he needed to. "Scully! It's all right...
You're going to be all right... There's an ambulance coming, Scully, just
hold on..."
   He watched the one eye close as her breathing all but stopped. "No,
Scully!" he cried quietly, watching the eye try to fight open again. "Come
on, Scully, come on... Just hold on for me, okay? Just hold on."
   As the eye faltered again, Mulder did something he rarely thought of. He
prayed.
   <Don't let her die here. Not after everything else. Not after all the
other things we've gotten through. Don't let her die naked in a crumbling old
boat...>
   He could hear the sirens as they approached. By the time they arrived, he
couldn't hear her breathing...

**********
Near Misses
by Lisdean Warner

Part five

She could hear a heartbeat. It didn't sound like hers, though. She shouldn't
have one at all. She was dead. Still, she could hear it...
   As she floated back and forth through the layers of pain, one thought kept
returning to her: If she hurt this much, she couldn't be dead... And there
was always that heartbeat...

It took hours of vacillating between pain and consciousness for her to
finally come to herself. The hours, the anethesia, the pain, it had all
conspired to rip much of the last day from her memory. All she knew was that
she shouldn't be alive--why, she couldn't say--but the fact remained
unassailable.
   She pried one tired swollen eye open, staring at the ceiling. She couldn't
see much--her eye was little more than a slit and her neck hurt far too much
to move. Still, her movements attracted attention.
   "Scully?" Mulder's voice was tired, and his face, as he moved into view,
was equally fatigued. Still, he smiled gently at her. "Hi," he said simply.
   She looked at him blearily. "What happened?" Her voice sounded normal, but
she whined slightly at the pain in her neck.
   "Careful," he warned. "The doctor said that talking is going to be kind of
hard for a few days. Do you want some water?"
   She nodded painfully, and he disappeared for a moment, sliding a cool
glass of water to her lips. She swallowed gently as he watched, ever
hovering.
   "Lorry's dead," he stated quietly.
   *Lorry? Who's--* She was assailed suddenly by the vision of a half-clothed
man crouching over her, a knife plunging itself into her throat. She closed
her eye against the memory, only to snap it open again as the vision played
out behind her eyes.
   Mulder watched her, saw the confusion in her face. "He was suspended a
couple of months ago for a suspicious shooting, and I guess he just cracked."
   She nodded gingerly, and steeled herself to speak again. "Why...?"
   Mulder shook his head. "It looks like he was taking out his frustrations
on women who had spurned him..." He watched her closely. "Did you know him?"
   "At Quantico," she affirmed. "But I don't really remember him very well...
I'm sure I don't remember him asking me out or anything..."
   He let the silence hang for a moment, sitting on the edge of the hospital
bed. When he finally spoke, his voice was quiet, slightly betrayed. "Why
didn't you tell me what was going on?"
   She looked at him for a long time, trying to find the answer to his
question. "I didn't... I didn't know it had anything to do with this case
until we got to San Francisco," she replied lamely.
   "What about the near misses in Washington?" he asked. "What about the
phone calls?"
   *He's been talking to Sal.* "I didn't think it was anything sinister,
Mulder... I just--" She cut off in a spate of coughing.
   He stood carefully, still that betrayed look in his eyes. Why didn't she
trust him? He sighed quietly, and briefly squeezed her hand. "I'll let you
get some rest. I have to write up a report about this, anyway."
   "Mulder," she said quietly, reaching out to touch his hand again as he
turned away. "Thanks."
   He nodded, slipped out of the hospital room. He wondered what she was
thanking him for--for saving her life, or for dropping the subject. He'd
bring it up again, he told himself. When she was better...
*******
END

This one might have some followups. I'm not sure yet...

Lis

From: xangst@marina-pt.com (Myth Patrol)
Subject: Close Calls by Lisdean Warner
Date: Fri, 19 Apr 1996 15:54:08 -0600
 

Standard disclamier: Mulder and Scully are the express property of CC&Co.
I'm only borrowing them and, last I checked, no one was paying me for this,
so you really couldn't sue me, anyway <snick>

**********
Close Calls
By Lisdean Warner

She wanted him to go home. Desperately. She wanted him to just drop the bag
he'd insisted on carrying, and leave. But she knew it wasn't going to
happen. She also knew that if he stayed, she'd end up saying things she
dearly wished not to say.
   After four days of recuperation at SF Gen, Dana Scully was finally home.
All she wanted to do this afternoon was sleep. She sure as Hell did not
want to have the conversation she'd been avoiding since Monday.
   She turned to her partner with a wan smile, her tired face marred by
vivid bruises. "Thanks for the ride." She hoped he heard the finality in
her voice.
   He heard it all right, but he wasn't leaving. Whatever was bothering
her, he needed to know. "Scully, we have to talk."
   She closed her swollen eyes briefly. "Can we do this some other time?
Please?"
   "You've been avoiding it all week, Scully," he said quietly. "We *have*
to talk."
   Her answering sigh was painful, and he winced at it. "Scully, please?"
He took her silence as acceptance, and put down her overnight bag.
   "Why didn't you tell me what was going on?"
   She fained misunderstanding. "I didn't know Lorry was after me, Mulder.
Trust me, I was as surprised as you were."
   He shook his head. "That's not what I mean, and you know it, Scully. You
were keeping secrets from me. The accident, the phone calls. Damnit!" he
said, anger flaring. "You knew he was after you and you didn't tell me!"
   "What would you have done?" she asked quietly.
   He ran a frustrated hand through his hair. "I don't know, but--"
   "You don't know," she stated, almost coldly, her own anger--the anger
she'd been holding in for far too long now--bubbling to the surface. "You
don't know? Well I know what you would have done, Mulder. You would have
played the overprotective brother again." She slammed her handbag down on
the table next to her. "You would have treated me like some fragile little
doll you were afraid to let out of your sight for fear that she'd break
into a thousand little pieces! Just like you've been doing all along. Ever
since I came back!" She turned on him. "I'm sick of you trying to protect
me, Mulder!"
   "Why haven't you told me this before now?" he asked into the sudden silence.
   She glared at him. "Because you would have done exactly what you're
doing now," she cried, tossing a frustrated hand toward his face. "You'd
give me that puppy-dog face and pretend that you could make everything all
right!" Her turn from him was abrupt. "Well you can't make it all right,
Mulder. You can't fix it!"
   He watched her back for a moment, fearing to reach out and touch her,
too worried to leave. It took a long time for him to find his voice. "I
just don't want to see you hurt, Scully," he said finally.
   She barked a sarcastc laugh. "How much more could you see, Mulder? Hmm?"
She turned on him, counting off on her fingers as she railed. "Let's see...
During the past two years, I've been beaten, kidnapped, shot, held at
gunpoint--held at *knife* point--stuffed in a trunk, stabbed through the
throat--" She held out her hands in angry exasperation. "How much more is
there to see!?"
   He watched as her head dropped tiredly, waiting for her to cool down a
bit, searching for the right thing to say. Finally he said simply, "You're
my partner, Scully."
   She brought her head up to stare at him, furious, and when she spoke,
her voice was colder than he had ever heard it. "Yes, Mulder. You're my
partner. It's your job to *watch* my back--not *hover over* it."
   "If I had been hovering," he returned, shame and guilt making his voice
a whisper, "Lorry could never have gotten to you."
   "So it's *your* fault!" She sneered at him meanly. "You know, Mulder,
you amaze me. I'm surprised your back doesn't break, with all the guilt you
throw on it." She whirled around, stalking accross the room to stare out
the window. "I'm a big girl, Mulder. I can take care of myself."
   As much as he had tried to stay calm and let her vent, her anger had
infected him, and the words were out of his mouth before he could censor
them. "Like you did with Lorry? With Pfaster?"
   She stood stock still in the deadly silence, and it seemed an eternity
before she turned her head to stare at him incredulously. "I'm right,
aren't I?" she asked, frighteningly serious. "You honestly think I can't
take care of myself." She snorted in disbelief. "After all the Hell I've
survived in the last two years... What?" she asked, turning fully to face
him. "Do you just keep me around so you can get me out of trouble? So I can
be the one woman in your life you *can* save?" She advanced on him angrily,
her voice dropping to a vicious growl. "Well I'm sick of standing in for
Samantha, Mulder." She turned away just as suddenly, instantly exhausted.
"I'm sick of being helpless," she whispered quietly.
   He stood for a moment and watched her, trying to understand--to make
*her* understand. "Scully...?"
   "Go away, Mulder," she said. "I've said *way* too much... Just go away."
   He couldn't leave--she hadn't said *enough* yet. Hadn't got out all the
fear, all the anger. If he left now, she'd cool down, close back up into
her shell. In a few days, she would have convinced herself that this
outburst had never happened. Until the next time...
   He could take the yelling, could take the insults. What he couldn't take
was the silence. Not anymore. He'd let it go on too long as it was.
   "Scully?" he asked finally. "Do you trust me?" She didn't move. "Will
you believe me when I tell you that I wouldn't have trusted you with my
life for the past two years if I didn't *know* that you could take care of
yourself?"
   She took in a deep, shuddering breath, and still she stayed silent.
   "You're angry because I try too hard," he ventured, receiving silence
for his answer. "I try too hard to keep you safe, and you resent it." He
waited a moment, finally closing his eyes against her silence. "You are my
friend, Scully. That's why I try so hard. Scully, please... please. Talk to
me."
   He couldn't say anymore. Now all he could do was wait.
   After what seemed hours, she turned to face him again, no longer angry
at him. Angry at herself, at her weakness. Angry, and very, very tired. "I
can't stand feeling so helpless... I can't stand feeling like you *have* to
protect me--like I can't do it myself." She sighed coldly. "I can't just go
from one close call to the next anymore, Mulder. I can't wait in one more
hospital, can't watch one more person die..." She closed her eyes against
the tears. "Janis died because of me, Mulder. How can I live with that? How
can I go on, blundering into dangerous situations, never knowing if I'm
going to make it out--if *you* are?" She opened her eyes and shook her
head, her hair falling into her face as she fought not to cry.
   "You told me once that you loved this job," he said quietly. "Do you
love it enough any more to take those chances?"
   She shook her head again, her voice something less than a whisper. "Not
is it meant watching another friend die." She looked up at him finally.
"Not if it meant losing you."
   He put a gentle hand to her face. "You will *never* lose me, Dana." The
tender smile was enough to stop her tears. "Not if you're always there to
watch my back."
******
THE END

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