Title: Weak in the Knees
Rating: umm... NC-17 eventually
Disclaimer: X-Files, Mulder, Scully and such don’t belong to me. If Scully did, she would have never slept with Mulder – no matter how desperate she was. But then... she wouldn’t have been so desperate – I’d have let her have more fun.
Summary: Scully and Mulder are assigned to a taskforce to catch a vicious serial killer. But who is that agent assigned by the Director? And why does she make Scully’s temperature rise?
Spoilers/Timeline: Set somewhere in the first half of season six.
Archive: P&P; anyone else please ask first.
A/N 1: If you’re a fan of Mulder you may want to pass.
A/N 2: My eternal thanks to celievamp for the great beta. This work is better because of your help. All mistakes are my own. Constructive feedback is welcome.
A/N 3: A special thank you to bara_brith and yellowsmurf6 – you both know why!
48 hours later found Morgan still in her office, Scully exhausted from re-examining the bodies that had been shipped to Quantico, and Mulder tired and surly from trying, along with the other profilers, to come up with a workable profile of the Reaper. At least Scully had gone home each night and gotten some sleep. All agents on the taskforce were commanded to appear at the meeting called by AD Ben Taylor in the bullpen.
The entire taskforce was present and there wasn’t a happy face among them. Taylor wanted updates on any progress. Unfortunately there wasn’t any real progress to report. After the meeting broke up, Mulder pulled Scully aside. Despite his rumpled, tired countenance, there was a spark in his eyes.
“You know, Scully, I’ve been thinking... maybe the reason the UNSUB hasn’t left any telltale clues behind is because he’s not a typical perpetrator.”
A fine auburn eyebrow arched. “What? You’re not trying to say this is an X-File, are you?”
“It would explain a lot. Like the lack of forensic evidence, the amount of blood missing from the bodies–”
“Mulder, the wounds explain the blood missing from the bodies.”
“Then where the hell did it go?” he demanded. “Not all of it is at the crime scenes! The missing blood didn’t just evaporate into thin air.”
“So you automatically think what? An alien killed these women? A vampire?” she scoffed.
“Come on, Mulder, you’re obviously sleep deprived. Go home; get some sleep.”
“I don’t want to hear it, Mulder. Go, get some sleep. We’ll talk tomorrow.” She pushed him out the door.
Scully started to follow but stopped. She felt the pull to go back to the bullpen. She turned and headed back. Regardless of the time of day, there were always some agents present when a taskforce was formed to work a case such as the Reaper. The mood in the bullpen was subdued due to the apparent lack of progress and growing body count. But that wasn’t why she was there.
She stopped and looked at the closed door to one particular office. She hadn’t seen the mysterious agent since they had finished the autopsy on the most recent victim, Andrea Bishop. And during the two nights since she dreamt of grey eyes and obsidian pools... and of things she didn’t understand, but couldn’t get out of her mind. A good investigator was someone who didn’t rush to conclusions without evidence, and Scully was nothing if not a good investigator. Nor was she a coward. She’d been through too much, lost too much, and come too close to dying.
Scully took a deep breath and marched up to the closed door. She knocked and waited.
“Come in,” came from inside.
She opened the door to see Agent Morgan sitting at the work table in the room. The walls were covered in grim crime scene photos. Both the desk and work table were overflowing with stacks of file folders, reports, and even more photos.
The fact that Morgan had obviously been holed up in the office for over 48 hours didn’t diminish the woman’s attractiveness. Her suit, though a bit creased, still snugly fit the obviously toned form of the agent. Her dark, shoulder length hair had lost none of its shininess. And her captivating grey eyes were still alert and bright, though there was a tenseness around her mouth and eyes. Even so, she smiled warmly at the redhead when she looked up.
“Ah, Agent Scully, you have great timing.”
“I need your expert opinion of something.”
“What can I help you with?”
“I’ve got some autopsy reports I’d like you to look over for me, if you don’t mind.”
“Alright.” Scully slipped off her jacket and set her briefcase down on the end of the work table. She opened her briefcase and took out a folder, handing it to Morgan. “Here are my findings on the last of the re-examinations of the previous victims. Unfortunately there’s nothing new to report. Sorry.”
“Not your fault.” Morgan handed her a file folder.
“Is there something specific I’m looking for in these reports?”
Morgan shook her head. “I don’t want to bias you. In the meantime, can I get you something to drink? I can offer you bottled water or hot tea,” she said with a gesture to the small square refrigerator in the corner next to the desk, and the coffeemaker sitting on top of it.
“Tea would be fine.”
While Scully began to read autopsy reports, Morgan prepared two mugs of hot tea. Both women sipped the hot tea while they reviewed their respective reports.
It wasn’t long before Scully could see why Morgan had asked her to review the autopsy reports. After an initial quick review she felt her heart drop to her feet. She then went back through the reports slowly, carefully, making sure. She felt herself pale as she set the last report down and closed the folder on the table. “Oh, God,” she whispered. She looked up and saw Morgan’s eyes on her.
“So I’m not crazy,” Morgan said quietly.
Scully shook her head. She saw, what she could only describe as agony, pass behind those grey eyes. Morgan stood up and turned some pictures over from where they had been facing the wall. She had each of them labeled with names, dates and places. They both stared at the line of victims, now significantly longer than the 14 they’d had two days before. They both felt sick to their stomachs.
Scully’s voice was a little shaky when she spoke. “Why didn’t these show up before?”
Morgan sat back down and ran a hand through her hair. “VICAP is only as good as the information entered into it. Problem is some one-horse towns and rural areas just don’t utilize it. I’ve been on the phone nonstop getting these.”
“So the Reaper has been active longer than we thought.”
Morgan nodded. “I’m going to need your help – to take a look at his earliest victims.”
Scully nodded. “You have it.”
Morgan nodded. “Thanks.” She let out a sigh. “Get a good night’s sleep. We’ll be on the road tomorrow. If I know the Director, he’ll light some fires and the exhumation orders will be signed first thing in the morning.” She stood up but wavered so badly she tried to grab the edge of the table to steady herself, but missed.
Scully jumped up and grabbed the brunette, keeping her upright. “Whoa, whoa.” She was surprised at how light the other woman seemed. “Easy does it,” Scully said as she helped Morgan back into the chair.
Scully lifted Morgan’s chin and looked in her eyes. She held up the index finger of her right hand. “Follow my finger.”
Morgan impatiently followed Scully’s finger then sat back in the chair. “I’m fine, Agent Scully. I just stood up too fast.”
“Let me be the judge of that since I’m the doctor.”
Morgan frowned. “I’ve got an M.D. as well, and I know I’m fine. My blood sugar is just a little low. I need to eat something, that’s all.”
Scully stood back up straight. “When was the last time you ate?”
“Lunch,” Morgan answered.
But Scully didn’t miss the slight blush that colored the agent’s cheeks. She quirked an eyebrow. “Lunch? You mean lunch over two days ago?”
It didn’t take a genius to see the fiery redhead didn’t approve. Before Morgan realized it she was wearing her suit jacket and was being dragged out of her office.
The women handed the menus back to the waitress once they had placed their orders.
Morgan sipped her water and gave Scully a small smirk. “So, do you always manhandle fellow agents and forcibly abscond with them to restaurants, Agent Scully?”
“Do you always ignore common sense and not eat or sleep for days at a time, Agent Morgan?”
“Not on purpose, but... enough time has been lost on this case, and enough lives lost.”
“I understand that. But you won’t do anyone any good if you run yourself into the ground.”
“I’m pretty resilient.”
“Mm hmm, says the woman who nearly did a nose dive into a table not 15 minutes ago.”
“I know my blood sugar’s down. I’d have gotten something to eat and been fine.” Morgan took in the sternly arched eyebrow. “But a meal is a good idea,” she finally conceded.
“Well at least you have some sense.”
“You know, Agent Scully, if you’re going to give me such a hard time, you may as well call me Jess.”
Scully smiled. “Only if you call me Dana.”
A thought suddenly occurred to Scully. “Oh, I meant to tell you – that hair we found on the last victim?”
Morgan nodded. “I know. It doesn’t belong to our UNSUB.”
“Right. It belonged to a previous victim. How did you know?”
“That it belonged to a previous victim? I didn’t. That it wasn’t his?” She shrugged. “He likes playing games with us. So far, every piece of evidence that we’ve found has turned into a red herring. He’s taunting us, thumbing his nose at us. He’s saying, ‘Look how good I am. Not only can I do what I want, kill who I want; but I can send you on wild goose chases, too.’”
“It’s scary when they’re this good.”
“Yes, it is. But it’ll also be his downfall. Eventually he’ll get tired of the game as it is. He’ll get tired of manipulating the cops so easily. After all, what fun is the chase if there’s no chance of being caught? So he’ll eventually leave a clue that will actually be a real clue.”
“You mean he really wants to be caught?”
“No. He only wants there to be a chance he’ll be caught – so he can show how superior he is when he isn’t. Of course our job is to be better than him anyway. To catch him before he takes too many more innocent lives.”
“Let me ask you something. What do you think he’s doing with the blood? Granted the crime scenes are bloody, but not enough to account for all of it. There’s at least a pint missing from each of the victims. Is he taking it to use in some ritual or something?”
“Actually I think he’s taking it just because he can.” Morgan let out a quiet huff. “Then again, he could be bathing in it or drinking it. Either way, he’s a psychopath.”
The waitress arrived with their food. They managed to restrain from discussing the case while they ate. After dinner Scully dropped Morgan off at her hotel.