Fletcher - Chapter 14 of ? By Dana Starbuck Feedback to jbowne@top.monad.net Note: I am posting this for a friend who only has access to the internet thru work. I did not write this, but I have agreed to let my friend use my email account. Any comments, please reference 'Fletcher' so I know to print and pass on to her. Distribution: Archive only to ScullySlash Homepage only Crossposting: None please! Keywords: F/F, Scully/Other, Mulder/Other Friendship, SOTL Crossover (sort of) Spoilers: None Rating: NC17 for sex, ScSlash Rating - A & B Summary: Scully becomes involved with a friend of Mulder's from his pre-Xfiles past. DISCLAIMER: The X-Files characters and situations are the creations and property of Chris Carter, 1013 Productions and the Fox Broadcasting and have been used without permission. SOTL characters are the property of Thomas Harris and have been used without permission. No copyright infringement is intended and no money shall be made with this piece of fiction. All the others belong to the author. Special thanks to Rad and deejay for beta-reading. Saturday, October 17th, 1:25 AM Scully woke up, and looked at the clock. She frowned when she saw the time. She reached for Fletcher, but Fletcher was on the other side of the bed. Her arms were folded across her chest, her face a cross between a scowl and a grimace. Scully moved closer to her and placed her hand on her shoulder. Fletcher's body was rigid and cold to the touch. "Fletcher?" Fletcher twitched once or twice, then moved away from Scully, her back to her. She leaned her body against Fletcher's, her arm around her. "Fletcher?" she asked again, her concern growing. Fletcher mumbled something in her sleep, then she sat up abruptly, startling Scully. She shrugged Scully's arm off as if she were waving away a fly. "My briefcase..." Fletcher muttered, swinging her legs around to the edge of the bed. She pushed the hair out off her face, then rubbed her eyes. "Is there something wrong, Fletcher?" Fletcher got out of bed, ignoring Scully, acting as if she wasn't even there. She grabbed her pants off the floor and put them on, pulling one suspender up over her bare shoulder. She walked, almost stomped, into the livingroom. She stumbled in the dark as she searched for her briefcase. Scully got out of bed and threw on her robe. She stood in the doorway, listening to Fletcher. She found the switch and turned on the overhead lamp. "Turn off the goddamned light," Fletcher snapped, her voice as cold as her skin. Scully caught a glimpse of Fletcher's face before she flipped the switch to 'off'. Fletcher's face was crossed with lines of concentration and her eyes were dark and lifeless. She was almost frightened by Fletcher's actions. Fletcher found her briefcase and sat down at the diningroom table. She fumbled with it before opening it and taking out a small tape recorder. She cleared her throat before speaking. "Uh, note. The order of deaths is currently incorrect. We've got the time of deaths wrong. Re-check the watches. The first victim, uh, Briggs, should be last, or one of the last. Re-check his last movements." She paused to rub her eyes. "UNSUB is a white male, aged 30 to 35. College education, possibly more. Has dark hair and very pale skin. Knuckles are rough, probably chewed on." Scully continued to listen from the bedroom doorway as Fletcher's profile came out in a torrent of words. she thought. Fletcher snapped off the tape recorder and returned it to her briefcase. The whole process had taken less than ten minutes but it had completely drained her. She slumped in the chair, her chin touching her chest. Scully tentatively stepped into the room. She cautiously placed her hand on Fletcher's shoulder. Fletcher's body was covered in a cold sweat. "Fletcher?" Fletcher exhaled loudly, sounding like she'd been holding her breath. "Fletcher, are you okay?" Fletcher mumbled an unintelligible response. She acted as if she didn't know where she was, like she wasn't awake. Scully took Fletcher's arm and helped her to her feet. "Let's go back to bed now, Fletcher." Fletcher allowed herself to be led back to the bedroom. Scully thought as she helped Fletcher out of her pants and back into bed. She tucked the covers around Fletcher, then slipped in beside her. She wrapped her arm around Fletcher and held her close. She didn't go to sleep until well after Fletcher had fallen into a deep slumber. Saturday, 5:45 AM Scully reached over and turned off the alarm. Fletcher never even stirred. She was on her stomach, her face buried in the pillow. Scully reached out and rubbed Fletcher's back with a light hand in an effort to gently rouse her. Scully stifled a yawn. She'd slept fitfully and her nerves were feeling a bit frazzled, still a little confused and bewildered by Fletcher's actions during the night. She didn't have a clue as to how Fletcher would be once she was awake. she thought, continuing to stroke Fletcher's back in an effort to wake her up. "Fletcher? Fletcher, it's time to get up," she said when she felt Fletcher respond to her touch. "Just a few more minutes," Fletcher groaned, not wanting to get out of bed. "Not too many more minutes, sailor, or you'll be late," she said. When she saw Fletcher smile, she felt immense relief. Scully thought. She pressed her breasts into Fletcher's back and kissed her behind the ear. Fletcher rolled over and stretched, then put her arm around Scully. "Good morning, Red." "Good morning to you, too." She kissed Fletcher on the mouth, her tongue lightly brushing her lips. "How'd you sleep?" she asked, curious. "Fine. Why do you ask?" "Just wondering." "What time is it?" Fletcher asked. "Almost six." "Then we have time," she said, her hand slowly sliding down the curve of Scully's back. "No, I don't think so," Scully said, grasping Fletcher's hand and removing it. "You have time for a shower and breakfast, and not much else." "I'll gladly skip breakfast for a different kind of meal," she said, trying to convince Scully to stay in bed. "I think you need to take one of your cold showers this morning," Scully said, getting out of the bed and putting on her robe. "I'll go put the coffee on. I hung up some towels for you on the back of the bathroom door." "You're no fun this morning," Fletcher grumbled. Twenty minutes later, Fletcher walked into the kitchen. She wore her khaki Navy work uniform and she carried her sweater and garrison cap. For Scully, a wave of memories washed quickly over her when she saw Fletcher standing in her kitchen in her Navy uniform. "Something wrong, Red?" Fletcher asked, pouring herself a cup of coffee. "No, not really. I'm just feeling a bit nostalgic, seeing that navy uniform. Takes me back to when I'd see my father in his uniform, ready to leave port." "How do I look? Do I pass inspection?" she asked, turning around. "Oh, most definitely," she said with a smile. "Good." "Sit down and I'll get your breakfast." "Thanks." Scully brought a plate of scrambled eggs and a bagel out to Fletcher. She was suddenly struck by the domesticity of the moment. Here she was, in her robe, fixing 'her' sailor a breakfast. she thought with a wry smile. "Hey, this is great, Red. Thanks. I didn't realize how hungry I was." "Well, you didn't have any dinner." "And who's fault is that?" she teased. "I don't think I was here fifteen minutes and you were already seducing me." "I did not, and it was closer to thirty minutes," Scully laughed. "Whatever." "Should I expect you for dinner?" "I think so. I'll call you when I leave. Best guess, not before six." "Okay." Saturday, 2:45 PM Scully finished putting away the few groceries she'd bought for dinner. She heard a knock at the door and looked through the peephole. "Mulder," she said, opening the door. "What are you doing here?" "I'm not interrupting anything between you two, am I?" he asked with a smirk on his face. "Sorry to disappoint you, Mulder, but Fletcher's gone for the day." "Where is she?" "She's got reserves this weekend." "That's too bad." "Is there something you wanted?" "No, I was in the neighborhood and thought I'd drop by." "Why don't you visit your friendly nutcases? I'm sure they must be doing something exciting, like hacking into some supercomputer." "There're not nuts," he protested. "Besides, they're at some conspiracy convention in Dallas this weekend." "Now there's a place I'm glad I'm not at today." "Have you had lunch yet?" "Yes." "Oh, well..." "Actually, Mulder, I could use the company this afternoon." "Really?" "Yes. I've got some questions for you." "Let me guess, about a certain FBI agent who happens to be-" "Don't say something you'll regret, Mulder." "I was going to say, who happens to be my friend." "I just bet that's what you were going to say." She headed for the kitchen. "I'm going to get myself a coke. Do you want anything?" "Got any beer?" "I think so." "How about something to eat?" "Mulder, are you ever going to stop mooching meals off of me?" she laughed. She took out their drinks and found some cheese and crackers and some carrot sticks for him to munch on. "That's the best I can do right now, Mulder," she said, handing him his beer and the plate of food. "I'm fresh out of junk food." "This is fine, thanks." She sat down on the sofa next to him. "Mulder, what kind of profiler is Fletcher?" "Boy, you don't waste any time getting to the questions, do you, Scully?" "I'm curious, Mulder. What's she like?" "I already told you, the best." "How many cases did you two work together?" "Well, in the three years we were in the department together, maybe twenty or thirty." "That many?" "We all carried an active case load of close to one hundred cases at any given time." "I never realized how many cases there are. Is that how many cases Fletcher has right now?" "No. She's only been back a few months. She's probably got maybe twenty or thirty cases. Why do you want to know?" "What was it like working with her?" "Maddening, entertaining, educational, aggravating. Take your pick." "What makes her such a good profiler?" "Fletcher has a photographic memory. She can go to any crime scene, see it once and then tell you exactly where everything was five minutes, five hours, five months or even five years later. She doesn't miss any piece of evidence, no matter how small. Her cases are always forensically air-tight." She was glad she was catching Mulder in a talkative mood. He didn't usually share much about the people he knew, preferring to keep his knowledge to himself. "How about her psych profiles?" "Always on the mark. She knows her stuff." "But?" Scully persisted, seeing the look on his face; a look that said he wasn't telling her the whole story. Scully knew the look only too well. "Well, I have a theory on why she's so good." "Do I hear an X-file?" Scully asked with a smile. "Honest, Scully. She knows things about the UNSUB that she couldn't possibly know from just the evidence. I don't care how good she is at her psychological profiles." Scully remembered Fletcher's rambling on about the skin color and something about his hands. "So what's your theory?" "I think Fletcher makes some sort of psychic connection with the UNSUB." "Mulder..." "You've never seen her in action, Scully. I have. You've got to see her on a case. You'll think it, too." "I think she just immerses herself into the case too far. If she's worked on that many cases, it would stand to reason that she speaks from experience." "Well, she does subscribe to the theory 'to know the art, you have to know the artist'. In some cases, I think she goes a little too far. It's almost like she identifies too closely with the UNSUB, gets too far into his mind." "So she walks the line with her cases?" Scully asked, repeating a term she'd heard at Quantico. "Sometimes." He noticed the worried look on her face. "Did something happen last night, Scully?" he asked. Scully pursed her lips and remained silent. "Fletcher went on one of her walkabouts, didn't she?" "Her what?" "That's what I call them. I've seen a couple. When she's on a case that she's having trouble with, she just can't shut her brain off, even when she sleeps." "Well, I thought I'd provided her with enough of a distraction last night so that she'd be able to sleep." "I'm sure you did," Mulder said with a knowing smile. "But you have no control over this. She doesn't even have control over it. An idea or thought will hit her while she's sleeping and she just acts on it. She won't ever remember doing it. She'll just play her tape back and wonder where the hell the it came from." "It's not fun to watch. It's even a little frightening." "Don't take it personally, Scully. She's not even aware of it." He finished his beer. "It used to drive Starling nuts, especially when they worked a case together." "Why?" "Starling's a lot like you, Scully. She prefers to deal in the facts and the evidence. She can profile with the best of them, but she's much better working with drawing her conclusions from the evidence. She had a lot of trouble with Fletcher's walkabouts in the middle of the night. She couldn't, wouldn't, take them seriously, even when the results were right on." "Is that why they broke up?" "It didn't help." "How'd they ever get together?" "Don't you think you should be asking Fletcher that?" "I get the impression that the topic is off-limits with her." "I guess it still bothers her, even after all these years." "How long were they together?" "A long time for Fletcher," he laughed. "Over two years, maybe three." "When did they break up?" "Oh, I guess it was 4 or five years ago. It was after I left BSU." "Tell me, Mulder, friend to friend, what's the whole story between Fletcher and Starling?" "Why the sudden interest, Scully?" "Fletcher told me something very interesting last night." "What?" "Did you know that they're both being considered to take over ISU when Stu Hendricks retires?" "No, I didn't. I can't imagine either one of them being the other's boss." "Now do you understand why I want to know what happened? If Starling's going to be around..." "Feeling a little threatened, Scully?" he said with a smile. "No," she lied. "Right. Whatever you say, Scully." He got up from the sofa. "I'm getting a refill. You want anything?" "No, thanks." Scully thought. She leaned back and sighed. Saturday, 4:30 PM All day long, Fletcher gave thanks for the monotony of her deskjob. She'd closeted herself away in the office and read all the memos, orders, and latest postings. It was something she could do almost mindlessly. Just commit them all to memory and ask no questions. Despite the boredom of her duties, it had still taken all her powers of concentration early in the morning to stay focused. She kept thinking about Scully, how she hated to keep leaving her. She took off her glasses and set them down on her desk. She rubbed her eyes then leaned back in her chair. "Come," she said when she heard the knock on the door. "Excuse me, Captain," a tall, thin lieutenant said as he opened the door. "What's up, Duffy?" "I've got the latest reports for you." "Thanks," she said, taking the stack of papers from him. "Will you be joining us tonight at the 'O' club?" he asked, sitting down on the chair in front of Fletcher's desk. "I can't. I've got other plans," she said, her words surprising him. "I bet Commander Hughes will be glad to hear that. He's still recovering from the last poker game." "If he'd concentrate on his cards instead of the women officers..." "I hear you, Captain. I also know that's why you and Captain Igawa always invite a lot officers to join you." "Where'd you hear that nonsense?" "Captain Igawa himself told me." "I would never stoop so low." "I know how competitive you are, Captain. I wouldn't put it past you," he laughed. "I'll forget you said that, Duffy," she replied with a small smile. "This time." "Aye, aye, Captain. Message received." He smiled, saluted and left the office. Fletcher looked over each report, stopping when she came to one in the middle of the pile. She looked at her watch, frowned, and then sighed as she picked up the phone. "Scully," said the voice on the other end. "Hey, Red." "How's work?" "Same ol', same ol'. Listen, I've got to stop at my apartment before I get there. I've got to pick up my dress blues. Some big meeting tomorrow. Do you need me to pick up dinner?" "No, I'm all set, thanks. What time will you be here?" "Sometime between 6:30 and 7:00." "Good. Dinner'll be waiting." "Where are you picking up dinner?" "I'm not. I do know how to cook, you know." "Sorry, my mistake." "Don't let it happen again," Scully laughed. "Okay, then. I'll see you for dinner." "'bye, sailor." End Chapter 14