Disclaimers in Chapter One

Warning: This chapter contains a slight bit of gore/violence of a
particularly squeamish nature.

**

Residual Effect

Chapter Three

Dana thought that Abbie was the most fearless woman she had ever met. The
plate before her was piled at an awe-inspiring height with foods no sane
person should attempt to eat. Dana had dubbed the course ‘cholesterol
surprise’.

"You know, as a doctor, I have to advise you about eating that."

"Yeah," she answered tucking two napkins in her shirt collar, "And as a
lawyer, I can always sue them later."

Abbie drug Scully not so kicking and screaming to a hide away. It’s main
claim to fame being its self-boasting moniker of "Best Damn Bar-B-Que ­
This Side of the Mississippi". The restaurant was partially filled with
people, mostly tourists, of all walks of life. Everyone there to dine on
the map making cuisine.

"You never answered my question." Abbie stated scooping a fork full of cole
slaw.

"Which question was that?"

"Someone like you pissing off a lot of people and getting stuck in no man’s
land?"

"Someone like me?" That phrase again. Abbie laughed into her napkin wiping
some sauce from her lip.

"Someone as in not stupid. I have a little info on you. You’re no spring
chicken. A medical doctor with a specialty in forensics, you’re an asset to
the FBI, not a liability. Yet, there you are, tucked off in a little hole
working your arbitrary job."

"I wouldn’t consider what I do arbitrary."

"But you wouldn’t consider it meaningful either, would you? Okay," Abbie
held up her hands in resignation, "Poor choice of words on my part. What
I’m trying to say is that while it’s grunt work it’s not the type of job
they give you when they’re trying to get rid of you. If that were the case
I’d suspect you’d be in some little room listening to surveillance tapes."

Dana chuckled at the comment, a puzzled grin on Abbie’s face. She’d drawn
Dana into the conversation, just not the desired response. Dana leaned into
the table.

"It’s going to take more than a nice lunch to get that story out of me."

"Don’t worry, the beer’s on the way."

Dana continued smiling at the woman across from her. She had the strange
feeling that Abbie was working her, pumping her for information. Not
cynical enough to believe that the lawyer was working for the forces that
seemed to be swirling around she and Mulder, but more out of sheer
curiosity. Scully had to admit, she was curious herself.

"Okay, change of subject. What did you think I meant by someone like you?"

Dana rolled her eyes slightly, followed by a slight groan. She was used to
being subtle in her body language, years mastering her technique of
control.

"Why’d you leave Texas?" Dana asked, quickly trying to change the subject.
Dana’s eyes glinted with a hint of curiosity mixed with playfulness, she
never expected the darkness that reflected back at her. Abbie Carmichael
darkened. The sly smile turned to a flat line across her face, the dark
eyes squinting slightly. Her whole countenance, her being quickly closed
itself off.

"Ouch." Dana humored slightly.

"It’s a long story," Abbie returned, trying to fill the sudden heavy air
between them, "I guess we both have long stories to tell."

Dana stabbed at her baked beans not really interested in eating them, but
not ready to return Abbie’s gaze.

"I thought," Dana blurted in a soft staccato rhythm, "you were saying I was
gay."

"What?"

"You know, someone like me. It’s not like I don’t get it all the time,
amongst all the other names about me floating out there. I just never
figured you’d be so positive with the alliterations."

Abbie Carmichael began laughing. Dana stared back towards her, her face
twisting into a confused expression, the humor of her confession lost upon
her.

"I’m sorry," Abbie raised an apologetic hand towards her, "I’m not unaware
of the name game. I’ve got quite a few myself." She said in between wiping
the tears from her eyes.

"I like tight-assed bitch." Dana replied.

"It does have its special charm but I’m setting my sights higher. The new
one is Hang’em High Carmichael. I kinda like it, cuts down on the bullshit
factor."

"Ugh, I only wish my detractors were so imaginative. Considering my
reputation, I’m actually surprised you wanted anything to do with me."

"You have a high opinion of your reputation, Ms. Spooky."

Dana giggled lightly, "You know what really stinks, they don’t even have
the cajones to come up with something original. I’m stuck with second
billing."

"Well, I wouldn’t put you second to anything Special Agent Dana Scully."

Dana blinked slightly at the comment, not sure if it was meant as she
thought it was.

Abbie’s cell phone went off in her pocket. Another distraction,
interrupting the ever increasing tension between them. The attorney fished
the phone out of her pocket.

"Carmichael." Formal. Business like. Dana watched as the woman's reaction
went from mild annoyance to pure shock.

"What!?!" She yelled into the phone, running a hand over her forehead.
"Shit, are you sure? You’re sure? Goddammit."

Dana listened to the rhythms of Abbie’s voice. The tennis match like back
and forth of her one sided conversation. She could tell that Carmichael
would be leaving, and soon. Slightly disappointed that her time with her
new friend had come to such an abrupt end.

"I’ll be there in 30," Abbie stated, "And I’m bringing someone with me."

Dana cocked an eyebrow at the last statement. As she stated earlier, her
work with the attorney was completed. Yet, Abbie felt compelled to drag her
further into this case.

"My star witness was just fished out of the Hudson." Abbie sighed.

"Accident or homicide?"

"Definitely homicide, he wouldn’t tell me the details over the phone but it
sounds pretty bad," Abbie flagged down a waiter, "Can we get two to-go bags
please and the check. There’s a charter leaving from Bollins Air Force Base
in 45 minutes."

"But what do you need me for?" Dana asked, even as she was gathering her
coat. Maybe there wasn’t a need for her on this case, but it was nice being
wanted. A nice to have the opportunity to dig her teeth in some real
investigative work.

"All things considered," Abbie answered as the two headed out the door,
"you ’re the only one I trust."

"That," she flashed a wide Texas smile as she entered the driver’s side of
her rental car, "you never told me if you were gay."

**

The charter flight to New York cut the 4-hour drive to a little over an
hour flight. They shared the flight with a Senator and his staff. A favor
for the Office to get their number one’s ass back into the state.

In between fielding calls from her superiors, Abbie spent the time
debriefing Dana on her case. Technically, it was a drug case. The case had
started out simple enough, a known dealer arrested with a suitcase full of
crystal meth in his trunk. The case falling onto Abbie’s desk more as
‘scraps for her to chew on’, than anything substantial. Then, things got
complicated. A routine search yielding a drug lab, a hundred million
dollars in laundered money, and Abbie Carmichael stood poised to take down
one of the largest drug smuggling rings on the Eastern seaboard. Not bad
for a rookie only six months on the job. And every one was chomping at the
bit to get a piece of this case. Her case, she added. All next to the ones
who wanted nothing more than to watch Abbie fail and bounce her ass back to
the "minor leagues".

Dana could tell that Abbie thrived on the pressure; the pressure from those
wanting her to fail, and those wanting her to succeed. Underneath it all,
Abbie’s need to prove to herself that what she was doing was right, that
she had chosen the path for her.

Even as all these forces were swirling around her, threatening to swallow
her whole. Abbie had sunk her teeth in, claimed her territory. Dared anyone
to take it from her. All the while, a legal house of cards precariously
stacked against her. Now, the house was falling apart. Key evidence was
missing and witnesses were turning up dead. The proverbial rock and a hard
place.

"I need you to observe the autopsy when we get there. I don’t want the same
idiot making another mistake."

"Well, if it’s clearly murder, I don’t see how he could."

"What? You think oath to duty couldn’t come between a man and his pension?"
Abbie snorted.

"I’m no stranger to office politics and the ways of the world." Dana
reminded returning Abbie’s gaze. "Probably more so."

"Oh really, and what could you have possibly gleaned down there in the
hallowed basement walls of the FBI?"

Dana let the question hang in the air as the ‘fasten seat belts’ sign
dinged on, followed by the rehearsed voice of their in-flight steward. She
supposed that she’d piqued the attorney’s curiosity because even as Dana
looked forward towards the cabin, she could still feel those dark eyes
boring into her. Probably another one of those sly grins that she’d become
accustomed to smiling right back at her.

Plane landings, or take offs for that matter, scared the bejesus out of
Scully. Science aside, she’d learned the statistics, memorized all makes
and models and their records for a crash. Probabilities, statistics,
ratios, and good old faith flashed through Scully’s mind. Even with all her
scientific knowledge, and belief in that science. Dana still fell to the
irrational fear that "something bad could happen".

Dana gasped a little too loudly as the plane jerked slightly from a gust of
turbulence. Her body stiffening in the up right and seated position of her
chair. Knuckles whitening as her fingers placed a death lock grip on the
armrest.

She felt something warm sliding across her right hand. Dana looked down to
see Abbie’s fingers laying atop hers, giving a sympathetic squeeze. Dana
turned to meet the woman’s gaze with an embarrassed half smile.

**

Stepping off the plane, Dana half expected to turn around and get back on
the board. The heat nearly bowling her over, it was a typical summer day in
heat wave suffering New York. The sun having set several hours ago, the
concrete jungle had barely begun the process of shaking off the heat. Now,
tucked away in the gloriously air conditioned confines of the New York City
morgue, Scully was almost content in her career choice of dealing with the
dead.

Even at her current position, standing in a hallway, she could hear Abbie
several doors down swearing up a Texas storm at the persons responsible for
removing the body from the scene.

A plain clothed detective approached the agent. He was in his late
twenties, neatly manicured. A rookie by all definitions, but one who’s
appearance and upper class background afforded him the rise in departmental
duties than should have been necessary.

"Agent Scully?"

"Yes."

"Carmichael asked me to escort you to the autopsy bay."

"Of course." Scully followed the younger man. She could have found the room
by her self. Just follow the smell of formaldehyde, antiseptics and death.
The agent stopped momentarily in an adjacent room, trading her jacket for a
standard issue smock, and protective goggles. She slid her glasses on
before donning the specs.

"Who the Hell are you?" The thickest Alabama accent boomed as Scully
entered the autopsy room. He was an elderly gentleman, an amalgam of every
college professor she ever met. Grayish, slightly balding head, mustache,
several decades worth of character lines etched across his face. More than
anything, he had the self deprecating manner of someone who believed
himself superior in even the flurry of mistakes Scully had uncovered from
his previous autopsy.

"She’s with me." Abbie stated as she entered the room. "Agent Scully, meet
Dr. Claiborne."

"So you’re the reason I’m up at this time of night," the doctor snapped as
he moved around the autopsy table.

"Let’s just say your work left something to be desired. She’s here for an
observatory purpose only. If you want you can piss on the table to claim
your territory."

"Carmichael." One of, Scully assumed, Carmichael’s superiors snapped. She
finally noticed the crowd that was already in the tiny room. A couple
standing behind the door, many more up in the observation room.

"You might wanna join your friends up in the booth," Dr. Claiborne snarked,
"this is gonna get messy."

"I’m staying."

Dana took a container of mint salve and applied a generous portion under
her nose before handing the container to Abbie. "You’re gonna need this if
you do." Abbie gave Dana a glance before applying the salve under her nose.
The process repeating itself amongst those who stayed in the room.

"Hey red," Claiborne barked towards Scully, "you know how to work that
thing?" He pointed his head towards a technician’s camera that was sitting
on a table. Scully cocked an eyebrow towards the doctor. She was really
beginning to not like the man. "Well, get it and get over here."

Dana grabbed the camera and took her place at the autopsy table. Claiborne
grabbed the zipper on the body bag. He paused more for a dramatic effect
than anything.

"Hope ya’ll haven’t had dinner yet." He stated before yanking the bag open.

No one ever gets accustomed to the smell of death. Yet, one never forgets
it either. As Claiborne yanked open the bag, the smell wafted into the
room.
Scully and Claiborne the only ones in the room who didn’t place a hand to
their collective mouths. She heard several moans in the background, one
officer even having the courage to leave the room.

The victim, one Carl Franklin, had spent two days in the river before being
fished out. His body, now cold, gray and very, very dead, a strap of duct
tape still fastened to his mouth, lay prostrate on the table. His hands,
bound behind his back, forced the technicians to place him in the bag on
his side, where he lay now.

Claiborne clicked on the over head voice recorder, vocally stating his
thoughts as Scully swirled around the body snapping various pictures.

The doctor worked over the body with authority. He cautiously cut the rope
around the man’s wrists careful not to cut the knot, for later examination.

The rigamortis having settled long after death, Claiborne easily rolled the
man onto his back. The victim’s skin bloated and grey from the days in the
water. Claiborne took a pair of scissors and cut the man’s shirt open.

"Red, take a look at this." Scully, ignoring the Doctor’s pet name, circled
around the table to the doctor’s vantage point. Carved into the victim’s
chest was a large symbol, a circle with intricate patterns woven in and out
the boundary.

"Have you seen anything like this?" She asked.

"Nothing like this." He answered, surprisingly without sarcasm.

Scully took several angled shots before moving on. The doctor sliced off
the remainder of the man’s clothes, satisfied with his external
examination, the doctor turned to gather more instruments, preparing for
the external.

Claiborne began carefully peeling away the tape stuck to the victim’s
mouth.
The tape removed, Claiborne opened the victim’s mouth.

"Oh Jesus." The doctor gasped. Scully immediately at his side, peered into
the open cavity.

"What is it?" She heard Abbie ask.

"Bugs," Scully replied, "Someone filled his mouth with bugs."

"It’ll take a bit to determine the exact kind," Claiborne huffed through
his nose, he was having a hard time with this, "They’re all kinda mushed up
right now. Jesus, I hate bugs."

Scully moved out of the doctor’s way, noting his phobia. He hovered over
the trunk of the man preparing to make an incision when something moved.
Technically speaking, something inside the man’s body moved.

"Jesus Christ," one of the detectives cried out, "He’s not dead."

"I guarantee you son, this man is most certainly dead." Claiborne snapped
back. He gave a parting glance to Scully. She could see that he was indeed
scared. Something about this case was going horribly wrong. All hanging in
anticipation for the final reveal.

He began the incision to open the victim’s chest cavity. Scully handed him
the buzz saw to slice open his ribcage. She gave a slight glance over to
Carmichael. She was holding up fairly well, not as pale as some of her
companions in the room. One man, slowly turning a light shade of green.
Abbie nodded slightly to Scully, inferring that she was okay, Scully
returning the gesture.

"Jesus Christ almighty!" The doctor cried. Scully turned to see the
commotion a gasp escaping her throat.

Cockroches. Hundreds of them began pouring out of the man’s chest. Dr.
Claiborne quickly stepped back, Scully following. The bugs crawled out of
the man’s chest. Squirming and writhing, stepping over the carcasses of
those that didn’t make the trip. A wretching sound came from the back
corner. Scully turned to see one of the plain clothes dumping his lunch on
the scrubbed floor.

"Get out!" Scully barked to the witnesses, they stared back at her in
horror, "You heard me! Get him out of here, he’s puking all over the
evidence."

One of the officers grabbed the man’s arm, more than happy to leave the
room. Abbie followed the two her eyes glued to the dead man on the table.

"Abbie." Dana called out to the woman. "Take Dr. Claiborne with you."

Abbie’s eyes never left the body, her face white as a sheet. She placed a
hand in the crook of the doctor’s elbow. The man had gone quite probably
into shock. His worst fear scurrying around on the floor about him.

"Jesus Christ Almighty," were the last words Doctor Claiborne spoke as
Abbie led him out into the hallway.

Dana looked up into the observation booth, noting the room wasn’t as
crowded as earlier. She turned back to the table, the remaining insects
squirming inside the body. She clicked on the voice recorder.

"This is Special Agent Dana Scully, I’ll be performing the remainder of the
autopsy."

Scully let out a heavy sigh as she gripped the scalpel in her hand. She had
a lot of work to do. And she wasn’t even supposed to be on this case.

End Chapter Three