dhamphir (dhamphir) wrote,

Weak in the Knees; chapter forty-eight

Title: Weak in the Knees

Author: Dhamphir

Fandom: X-Files

Pairing: Scully/OFC

Rating: NC-17

Please see previous posts for disclaimer/summary/notes. Special thanks to bara_brith and yellowsmurf6. As always, thanks to celievamp for the beta.


Chapter 48


Kensey changed into the orange jumpsuit of a federal prisoner and was then placed into transport shackles – both of which were provided by the feds. Once Casper took care of all the necessary paperwork, two deputies, with Kensey in the back of the patrol car, followed Casper and Scully to the airport.


A strategy had been worked out at breakfast. Even though Kensey had been combative and unco­operative, he had been completely silent, refusing to speak a single word. Morgan was going to try to use their similar backgrounds to break through that silence and to get him talking.


Morgan was not on the plane when they arrived. She waited in the terminal, watching. Inside the plane Casper placed Kensey in a seat and secured his seatbelt.


Casper turned to Scully. “Any sign of her yet?”


“Not yet.”


“I still don’t see why we have to wait for her,” he said in an irritated tone.


“She’s here at the request of the Director himself.”


Casper waved his hand dismissively. “Well if we’ve got to sit around on our asses waiting for her I’m going to have something to drink. You want something?” he asked as he passed her on his way into the small galley.


“No thank you.”


The copilot, Denison, was pouring himself a cup of fresh coffee in galley.


Casper stuck his head back out. “There’s fresh coffee if you want it, Scully.”


“No thank you.”


Casper came back with a glass filled with contents made to look like scotch.


Scully gave him a disdainful look. “You know better than that, Casper.”


He again waved her off dismissively.


Casper gave Kensey a sneer. “Oh, do you want a cup of coffee or a cigarette while we’re waiting?”


The pilot, Agent Marks, came back. “She’s here, so we’ll be taking off in just a few minutes.”


“Thank you,” Scully replied. She shot a dirty look at Casper who quickly downed his drink.


Both Scully and Casper stood when Morgan entered the plane.


“Welcome aboard, ma’am. It’s a pleasure having you aboard. I’m Agent Marks, your pilot. Agent Denison is my copilot today. If you need anything, please don’t hesitate to let us know,” the pilot said in greeting before closing the hatch behind her. “If you make yourself comfortable we’ll be taking off in only a few minutes. Unfortunately we do not have a flight attendant for this flight; however, once we are at altitude you make help yourself to the refreshments available in the galley.”


“Thank you.”


Marks returned to the cockpit. Scully and Casper each stood and introduced themselves and shook her hand in turn.




With the plane at altitude Morgan released her seatbelt and approached Kensey. She looked him in the eyes and gave him a nod of respect. “Hugh, it’s good to see you again.”


He looked up at her in confusion. “Excuse me?”


“You may not remember me, but we met about 20 years ago... at one of the socials MIT and Har­vard held for their younger students. I’m Jessica Morgan – my father was Philippe Rodier.”


He frowned in thought for a few moments, but then a look of recognition came over his face. “Oh, yes, the Rodiers of Vancouver. My family owns some stock in Rodier International.”


She nodded. “That’s right, and my accountant would be glad to hear that,” she said with small smile.


“I remember you. Didn’t you leave Harvard in ‘82 to take a Rhodes scholarship?”


She nodded. “I graduated in ‘82. I took the Rhodes scholarship to pursue a degree in Theology and Religious Studies,” she replied, surprised he’d remembered.


He cocked his head to the side. “You didn’t come to very many of the socials.”


She smiled softly. “No I didn’t.”


He smiled roguishly. “As I recall, you were quite taken with a certain Vanessa Turner.”


Morgan arched an eyebrow and smirked. “As were you, I believe.”


Kensey laughed. “True! Great minds do think alike, don’t they?”


After a shared laugh Morgan gestured to a small table toward the back of the cabin. “Let’s sit back here where we can have a little bit of privacy.”


Because of the transport shackles, Kensey struggled to undo his seatbelt and to stand.


“Hold on, Hugh.” Morgan called to Casper. “Agent Casper, come undo these shackles.”


“I don’t think that’s a good idea, ma’am.”


“I didn’t ask you if it was a good idea, Agent, I gave you an order. Where’s he going to go? We’re on a plane several thousand feet in the air. All three of us are armed. He’ll still be cuffed. There’s no need for the shackles.”


“You don’t understand, ma’am. The prisoner has been violent and uncooperative while in custody. He kicked out a window of a sheriff’s patrol car and had to be hobbled as a result.”


Morgan looked at Kensey in surprise. “Did you really?”


Kensey actually looked a little embarrassed and sheepish. He nodded.


She looked him in the eyes. “Will you give me your word you won’t try anything, Hugh?”


“I give you my word, Jessica,” he said solemnly.


“Alright.” She looked at Casper. “Remove the shackles.”




“Agent Casper, either remove the shackles or give me the key so that I can. There are no car windows present for the man to kick out, and he has given me his word not to try anything in any event.”


Casper put on a show of reluctantly following her orders. That done, Morgan and Kensey moved to the small table, sitting opposite of each other.


“Hugh, I’m sure you understand that I need to ask you some questions.”


He nodded. “I know.”


“Before we get started, would you like something to drink?”


“He offered me some coffee... and said I could have a cigarette.”


“Well that was rude of him, since you don’t smoke or drink coffee,” she said with smirk. She leaned to the side to look around Kensey. “Casper, get us some tea,” she called out.


“There’s some fresh coffee in the galley,” he replied.


Morgan stood up and marched over to Casper. “Agent Casper, I don’t know what your problem is, but I’ve had enough of your insolence. And don’t think I haven’t noticed the alcohol on your breath! When we land you will surrender your badge and weapon and consider yourself on suspension until further notice. Now, get your ass in the galley and get us some tea – two cups, hot, and one empty cup, please.”


As Casper went into the galley Morgan returned to her seat. “I’m sorry, Hugh. You know how hard it is to find quality help.”


He sighed and nodded in agreement.


Scully watched everything in silence. Even though they had discussed their strategy that morning at breakfast, she was a little surprised that Kensey had already broken his self-imposed silence to speak to Jess. But she had already established a tentative rapport with him. Having the same socio-economic and education background had certainly been a factor, as had their shared expe­rience of being gifted students.


Casper returned with two cups of hot tea and an empty cup.


“Is there any lemon?” Morgan asked.


“Uh, no.”


She exchanged a look of disappointment with Kensey. “Sorry, Hugh.”


He shrugged, as if to say he wasn’t surprised. When Morgan carefully placed her teabag in the empty cup between them he gave her a surprised look.


“What? You didn’t think I would squeeze the bag did you, releasing the tannic acid into my tea?”


He smiled as he removed his own teabag and placed it in the cup. “I shouldn’t have doubted someone of your breeding and intelligence.”


Several moments were spent in silence sipping their tea. Morgan knew exactly what she wanted to accomplish. Even though they had a lot of evidence to prove Hugh Kensey was the Reaper, she wanted a confession so he didn’t plead insanity in a trial. Finally she broke the silence.


“Did they inform you of your rights, Hugh?”


He waved his hand dismissively. “I know my rights.”


“Are you willing to talk to me then?”


He nodded.


Morgan reached into her jacket pocket and withdrew a microcassette recorder. She pushed record and set it on the table. “This is Special Agent Jessica R. Morgan, badge number JTT0330703, inter­viewing Mr. Hugh Kensey. Today is Sunday March 28th, 1999. Mr. Kensey has been advised of his rights and is voluntarily answering questions without the presence of a lawyer.” She looked at him. “Would you please verify that, Hugh, for the record?”


“Of course. This is Hugh Kensey; I know my rights and am willing to answer any ques­tions posed to me by Jessica Morgan.” He paused. “But only by her,” he added, then smiled. “How’s that?”


“That’s fine, Hugh.” She paused for two or three beats. “When was the first time you killed, Hugh?”


“Animal or human?”


Not expecting him to be quite so forthcoming, Morgan fought to keep her expression impassive. “Animal.”


“When I was seven. I hated the neighbor’s dog. It was an annoying, yippy, little thing. One day I’d just had enough of its incessant yip yapping. I snapped its neck. There was something so satisfying about it.”


“What did you do with the body?”


“Tossed it in their back porch,” he replied with a nonchalant shrug.


Morgan frowned. “But you grew up in Manhattan, Hugh, on Park Avenue.”


“Oh, this was in the summer, in the Hamptons.”


“I see. And when was the first the time you killed a human?”


Kensey didn’t answer; he appeared lost in thought.




“Do you remember Calvin Thibodeau? You probably met him at one of the socials that first year. Dirty blonde, blue eyes, horn rim glasses, lanky.”


Morgan nodded slowly.


“When did you see your first dead body, Jessica?”


“My mother; I was six.”


“But that was at the funeral, right?”




“When was the first the time you saw a body, before it was made to look ‘pretty?’” he asked using finger quotes.


“I was 21.”


“Calvin was the first one I saw.”


Morgan’s eyes widened. “Are you saying you killed him?”


“No. He killed himself; I found him. He hung himself in the lab the night we were suppose to finish our project for Professor Kensington’s class.”


“I’m sorry you had to go through that, Hugh.”


He shrugged. “No big deal. He was weak; he couldn’t take the pressure.” A second shrug. “I thought it would have been interesting to autopsy the body.”


The guy had no feelings whatsoever about the suicide of his lab partner. He really was a psychopath!


“When did you start killing, Hugh?”


“The first time was in ‘87... it was an accident really. Crystal Norris.”


Morgan flipped through the names Scully had written down. “I don’t see that name as one of the ones labeled on the bottles, Hugh.”


“No, it’s not. Like I said, it was an accident really. The ones on the bottles were planned.”




The flight time to DC – well, Baltimore-Washington International – was an hour and a half. How­ever, at a signal from Morgan, Scully got up and went to the cockpit to tell the pilots to circle until further notice. As long as Kensey was talking, Morgan was going to get all she could from him. And the Gulfstream could stay in the air up to ten hours if necessary.



Chapter 49...

prologue|ch 1|ch 2|ch 3|ch 4|ch 5|ch 6|ch 7|ch 8|ch 9|ch 10|
ch 11|ch 12|ch 13|ch 14|ch 15|ch 16|ch 17|ch 18|ch 19|ch 20|
ch 21|ch 22|ch 23|ch 24|ch 25|ch 26|ch 27|ch 28|ch 29|ch 30|
ch 31|ch 32|ch 33|ch 34|ch 35|ch 36|ch 37|ch 38|ch 39|ch 40|
ch 41|ch 42|ch 43|ch 44|ch 45|ch 46|ch 47|

Tags: character: dana scully, character: jessica morgan, character: ofc, fandom: x-files, fic, pairing: scully/morgan, pairing: scully/ofc, rating: nc17, weak in the knees

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