#imagine if mark hoffman and his massive lips had been on the side of that bus

[shortbreadly]

and if the saw escape room bus…

crashes into us…

[greekowl87]

Fic: False Flags Redux (1/13)

Author’s Note:  Let me start by stating this work was a grand experiment for me. I have never written a mystery or case file before, this the longest thing I have written and completed (besides a 22-page graduate research paper on William Shakespeare), and for the most part, I have this almost completed before I started posting it. This started its life as a drabble written for @txf-prompt-box back in early September. It kept growing and I created a Frankenstein fic. I hold this little creation very close to my heart and I hope you all enjoy it as I have enjoyed writing it.

Lastly, a massive, million thanks to @mulders-boyish-enthousiasm and @scully-loves-ruthie for the constant hand-holding, criticism, feedback, and overall being the awesome of the most awesome people and helping me get through this. Seriously, these two deserve a medal.

Tagging @today-in-fic

Timeline: Season 6. Making me pick episodes? Before ‘How the Ghost Stole Christmas.’ Before they got the X-Files back and before ‘Tithonaeous’. Use your headcanon imagination.

1/13

It was taken from me. Plain and simple. This is a story of revenge. Plain and simple. 

You see, I remember everything. Sure, they don’t but I do. They don’t matter. I remember how my heart was ripped out. He stole it and she ripped it out. Stamped it on the ground. Burned it. Neither party is innocent. Both are guilty. I am the judge, jury, and executor. And the kicker? I remember everything. And I am willing to kill to get it back.

The betrayal. The heartbreak. I want revenge. I have been wanting revenge for 135 years. I had it once. I will have it again.

I did not realize how much I wanted it until I saw her again.

I did not realize why I was doing it to begin with. I just felt this need…this anger. I was always angry. I always wanted to lash out. That’s how it started. One girl here. It felt good. Another random guy there. Even better. I had no agenda. Another random person there. I just needed to do it. I did not discriminate or plan. I just did it to do it. Like a smoker smokes a cigarette to smoke. I killed just to kill. I got no physical satisfaction than knowing I did it.

But then they caught me. I saw her.

And then, I remembered everything.

… .

Federal Building Norfolk, Virginia December 12, 1998

It was cold. Not bitterly cold but enough to send a chill to your bone. The sky was overcast; so grey it looked heavy and ready to release some sort of precipitation, and the cold was always snapping, freezing, ready to make any rain turn to snow. The weird thing is that it would never snow. Norfolk, Virginia, was a conundrum. A city steeped in history but unsure where to go between the historic district and the hodge-podge of Victorian, Art Deco, and modern architecture. The weather seemed to fit right in.

On the corner of Charlotte Street and Brambleton Avenue, a four-story building dominated. It was built with a nod to the art deco style, with its boxy shape, antiqued lamps, and boxy fanned out styles. The Walter E. Hoffman courthouse appeared just as much out of place as the rest of the buildings in the city.

Outside art deco courthouse, two FBI agents huddled near each other to try and escape the biting cold. Agent Dana Scully looked pointedly at the sign marked ‘U.S. Marshal Parking Only’ in bright right and white letters and then towards their rental 1997 Chevy Impala. “Mulder,” she mused, “are you sure we can park there?”

Special Agent Fox Mulder blew into his gloved hands and gazed at the parking sign ominously. “We’re FBI. They’re U.S. Marshals,” he shrugged. “We’re both federal agents in law enforcement. What’s the difference?”

Scully licked her chapped lips, choosing not to argue the point. “Can we at least get out of the cold? I want to get this over with.”

“What?” her partner teased. “Looking forward to more background checks?”

“No. And no. I hate the cold. And Kersh’s background cheeks. I just want to get home,” she shivered. “Something about the cold makes me want to become a hermit.”

Mulder rubbed her arms slightly trying to generate heat. “I don’t blame you,” he shrugged. “The Vineyard is way worse. At least it decides if it wants to snow or not.”

“Shut up about the snow. I hate the snow. You know that.”

“You could always move to Miami.” She gave him a withering glance and he smiled lightly. “Then let’s get out of this cold. If you behave, I’ll buy you a lollipop after all this.”

“Shut up, Mulder.”

Even through the thick layers of her suit and heavy wool coat, the pressure of his touched seared itself into her lower back right above her ouroboros tattoo. She straightened her back unconsciously, her back cracking, and stretched her neck. “I wish we could have stayed at the hotel across the street,” she mumbled, nodding to the large 12 story v-shaped hotel across the street. “Looks a lot nicer than where we’re staying at. And closer.”

“Hey, Kersh’s dollars at least gets us a step up from a motel. We’re staying by the airport.”

“There’s nothing by the airport.”

Mulder frowned and teased her. “Well, there’s the beach. The hotel is supposed to be really nice.”

“Virginia Beach,” she specified, “which we aren’t exactly on the oceanfront, are we?”

He gestured eastwards. “The river?”

“Mulder, the ocean and the river are not the same things.” She shook her head slightly in an effort be rid of the chill the creeping into her bone. “Regardless, can we get out of this cold? I really don’t understand why even drove down here, Mulder. We just have to testify at a sentencing hearing.” She held up a finger for dramatic pause. “Sentencing hearing.”

“Well, maybe I don’t want us sitting behind the desk doing background checks?”

She arched an eyebrow and shook her head. “How is that a step up? Okay, okay,” she sighed. “But can we at least get out of this cold? I’m freezing.”

Mulder ushered her into the courthouse through the main entrance on Monticello Avenue. They shed their coats, showed their badges, went through the security checkpoint, took the required elevator, and walked the required amount of steps to courtroom B. They slid in among the shuffling of journalists, cops, lawyers, and other courtroom witnesses. Scully saw the judge enter unceremoniously from the left as the bailiff rose and called for order.

She watched from afar as the male judge looked briefly over the day’s docket and then towards the defendant, the serial killer her and Mulder had caught the year previously

“Well,” the judge sighed, opening. “This should be fairly straightforward. Francis Buckley, rise please.”

The defense lawyer jumped up. “Aren’t you going to hear testimony in defense of my client?”

“Sir,” the judge answered, “I see no one jumping to defend your client for brutally murdering three people. The only people here to testify are the two FBI agents that caught him and I sincerely doubt that will cast any light on your client’s…good grace and he has already been convicted by a court of three murders. How much longer do you want me to drag this through the mud?” The lawyer’s mouth flapped uselessly and the judge looked pointedly at him. “Rise, Mr. Buckley.”

Scully watched as a large man in his mid-thirties rose, dressed in the classic orange jail jumpsuit and chained. She felt something in the air shift and glanced towards Mulder to see if he noticed. The defendant, Francis Buckley, turned to look over his shoulder slightly. He grinned when his brown eyes zeroed in on her. She felt cold, like icicles dropping down her back in sharp pain. She physically jumped and felt Mulder’s hand instantly squeeze her knee in reassurance. She glanced at her partner as his hazel eyes gazed at her quizzically. She nodded quickly before regaining her composure. Buckley smiled, even more, when he noticed Mulder before turning back to the judge.

It was a whirlwind. Before she even knew it, Mulder was gently ushering her out the door with his familiar hand on the small of her back. She could hear him talking. Something about lunch.

“Scully,” he called gently, “are you even listening to me?”

She sucked in a quick breath and blinked as if coming out of a revere. “Yeah.” She blinked a few more times to clear her eyes. “Yeah. Sorry about that, Mulder. Must have of dazed off there for a second.”

He studied her for a moment and nodded. “Well, we don’t have to be back in Washington until tomorrow. You want to play hooky this afternoon in the wonderful city of Norfolk, Virginia? The Chrysler Museum is nearby.”

She nodded again, more quickly than her body would let her. She was eager for the distraction to take her focus away from the building uneasiness that was in the back of her mind.

… .

I saw her today. I was hoping to see her today. And he was there too. This will be so easy.

… .

Norfolk, Virginia February 1, 1862

The young lieutenant pulled his gray kepi down over his ears and buried his face into his own greatcoat bemoaning the cold. Even in the beginning of February, it was bitingly cold. The snow crunched under the wagon’s wheels as it drove slowly among Freemason street. He shifted uncomfortably as he surveyed on what would be his new home for an undetermined amount of time.

Polished and affluent homes combed the streets on either side of him. He felt uneasy being out and about here. He much preferred to be with the other marines at the barracks at the naval yard where they awaited the completion of the navy’s newest ironclad, CSS Virginia, previously known as the USS Merrimac.

Honestly, he never knew why God had intended him to be the butt of some cruel, universal joke. He was an army man, a graduate of Virginia Military Institute. Hell, he was supposed to be a part of blossoming community of military intelligence. But no. He was stuck on a boat and surrounded by navy men. He got seasick easily too.

God, how he had wished his mother had not intervened with his career.

As the carriage trotted down the cobbled road, he spied an old man, wearing the insignia of a navy captain, and a woman, who was much too young to be his wife, wearing a pale green dress and a black overcoat, holding the captain’s arm weakly as they stood at the doorway of one of the polished homes. She looked bored. She glanced at her husband as he talked fondly to a man standing inside and let her eyes wander from place to place on the street.

Somehow, they caught each other’s gazes.

The first thing that he noticed was her blue eyes. Then the small smattering of freckles across her face. And her red hair peeking out beneath the bonnet. He felt warm to his soul like he finally belonged somewhere after searching a lifetime. She seemed just as taken with him and their gazes lingered as his carriage continued on its way and until she faded from sight.

… .

Holiday Inn by the Airport Norfolk,Virginia December 13, 1998

3:08 AM.

Scully rubbed her face in a weak effort to erase the fatigue that she had. Her eyes were tired. Her body felt heavy. Everything just felt off. It had ever since that morning in the courtroom. She lay beneath the white, artificial sheets and quilt (only a few steps up from creepy, crappy by the hour motel sheets) and absently clicked the television remote, the changing the flickering screen repeatedly. She heard a quick knock on the door joining her and Mulder’s rooms. He opened it slightly and gave a weak smile. “I thought I heard the TV,” he said softly.

She sighed and cast the remote aside. Sitting up in bed taller, she turned on the nightstand lamp. “No,” she admitted with a shrug. “I tossed and turned a bit. There’s nothing on TV.”

“There never is. Want some company?”

“Do you ever sleep, Mulder?” she teased, patting the bed beside her.

“Once in awhile.”

Her partner shut the door and sat on the edge of the bed, taking a moment to examine Scully. “You look…distracted. You okay, Scully?” She shrugged, rolling her neck as she did, hearing a distinct pop. “Oh, I heard that one. Turn around.”

“Mulder,” she admonished. “I’m fine.”

“Just…turn around, Scully,” he instructed with a small smile.

She shook her head, a small smile playing on her lips.

She loved his rare shoulder massages. Although she would tell him repeatedly she was okay, he would always ignore her. It was all professionally platonic, of course. Scully turned slightly and rolled her shoulder. “You don’t have to.”

“I know,” he said. He squeezed her shoulders tentatively. God, she was tense. He felt the knotted muscles beneath her silken green pajama set. “I’ve been worried since this morning.”

“How so?” she grunted, instantly straightening her spine, feeling the pressure of Mulder’s thumbs.

“I could say you’re distracted but that is just stating the obvious. Even at the museum today this afternoon, you were distant. Every since Buckley noticed you this morning,” he said thoughtfully. “You weren’t like that during the case.”

“I don’t know,” she confessed absently, sitting up straighter as his hands centered in on her spine. Her back cracked more. “Did you see the way he looked at us? At me?”

“Hm. What about it?”

“I don’t know, Mulder,” she whispered. “He smiled at me. Like, just me. Mulder, it creeped me out.”

He paused. “How so, Scully?”

She shook her hand, unconsciously rubbing her left arm. “Not that bad. I’m fine,” she answered quickly. She felt vulnerable. He already knew where his mind was going towards. “Not Pfaster or the abduction bad. It was probably nothing.”

“Then what?”

She paused, wishing he could hug her in this moment of vulnerability, but of course, she would never admit that out loud. “I didn’t feel like myself,” she replied after a long moment. “Like I was me, and someone else, but at the same time. I don’t know. Maybe I’m losing my mind.”

“Out of place, out of time?”

“Something like that.”

Scully shook her head and her entire body followed, shrugging out of Mulder’s grasp. He hesitated before gently grasping her hand that had been repeatedly trying to console herself. “Easy, Scully. I gotcha.”

She closed her eyes and tried to center herself. “What was it like?” she asked after a long moment. “In Tennessee?”

He was silent, his hand instinctively seeking out the small of her back, his place. He drew in a deep breath. “How else would you explain it?”

“You’ll think I’m crazy.”

“Try me.”

Scully hugged herself tightly and faced him. Mulder wished that he could just take her in his arms and make all right with the world but simply settled for squeezing her hand again.  “I had a strange dream tonight,” she started reluctantly. She pointed towards the floor loosely. “Here. In Norfolk.” She closed her eyes again. “Snow. Cold. Like this morning It needed to snow but hadn’t recently.”

“How do you know it was here?”

Her right hand flung wildly in a circle. “I just…know.” She took a deep breath, steadying herself. “It wasn’t this time–older. Mulder, I don’t know.” She buried her face in her hands. “This is stupid. Just ignore it.”

He grasped her other hand tightly. “Scully, come on. Stop thinking.”

Her head was spinning. She remembered the gaze from the dream. His gaze. She could not remember his face but she could feel his staring. “Mulder,” she murmured, squeezing his hands. “I think I need a vacation.”

He let out a hoarse laugh. “We both do.”

She brought her knees close, crossing them under her. “Mulder, I’ve never felt like this before. I have never felt so out of time and out of space. This isn’t like the abduction. This isn’t missing time. I feel like I’m experiencing something I forgot long ago. It scares me.”

He pushed a stray piece of hair behind her ear. “I know,” he whispered. Was she experiencing a past life? Who knew. But he was curious. ��If you want to talk…”

She shrugged noncommittally as his cell phone rang. She raised an eyebrow as he mouthed ‘Sorry.’ “Mulder,” he answered crisply.

While he had freed one hand to answer his cell, his other hand still clasped hers. He was quiet as he finished the call and put it away. There was trouble in his eyes. “That was the sheriff. Buckley mentioned he wanted to talk to Starbuck.” He felt her stiffen. “Then he mentioned your name.”

“Do you think,” she paused. “This could be like Boggs?”

He never let go of her hand. “I don’t know. Maybe.” He looked down at the bed, surprised that she was even entertaining such ideas. “Good thing we have nowhere to be, right?”