Scully’s Search
Scully awoke shaken from the dream. Mindlessly she crossed to the painting hanging on her bedroom wall. The shifting patterns of light and shade were purely an illusion formed by the illumination from her window, or so she told herself. They only seemed to dance across the surface and make the picture appear alive. The breakers seemed to curl in on themselves and crash down on the figure of the man in the water. Had he been in the water before? No that was illogical. It wasn’t true. It couldn’t be. There had to be another explanation. Still, the lab exam . . . No. It was just a painting. Despite her loathing for the painting, Scully could not take her eyes off it. She remembered her recurring dream. Mulder’s disappearance. And always it came back to the painting. Of it’s violition, her hand reached up to touch the painted surface.
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Two days earlier
“Where is he?” Scully demanded loudly from the ever-calm Assistant Director Skinner.
“Agent Mulder hasn’t shown up at work for two days Agent Scully. I was hoping that *you* knew of whereabouts.” Skinner responded coolly, leaning towards her across his desk. Scully wanted to sink into the floor. She knew what everyone was thinking, that Mulder had ditched her again to go off on his own searching for some obscure truth. It was embarrassing not knowing where your partner was. However, in this instance, Scully was really worried about him. It was not like his usual disappearances.
“Sir,” She sighed. “Can I speak off the record?” Skinner made a gesture indicating that she could. “I don’t know where he is. I know that he’s done this before, but I’m convinced that there is something different going on this time.” She paused. “I’m worried that something has happened to him.” Skinner sat up a little straighter, but still kept his tone level.
“Do you suspect that Agent Mulder’s disappearance is,” He chose words carefully. “Not his own choice?” Scully leveled a steady gaze at him.
“I believe that may be so sir.” Their eyes met, both filled with concern.
“I’ll do all that I can through ‘official channels’.” Skinner made the familiar reference and Scully nodded her acknowledgment.
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That night.
The tape tore with difficulty and Scully pressed the strips into an X on the window pane. Deftly she turned Mulder’s desk lamp onto it. Mr. X had to know where Mulder was. The question, as ever, was would he tell her?
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Several hours later.
Scully was getting better at this. Basketball was not one of her strong points but aiming the ball at the hoop and managing to get it in was a decidedly satisfying experience. Not to mention that it took her mind off Mulder’s disappearing act. Half of her hoped that he *had* ditched her to go off on his own. He had been behaving strangely since they began investigating Ginger Lincoln’s disappearance. Scully had assumed that the similarities to his sister’s case were playing on his mind. They still hadn’t found Ginger.
What if They had taken him? What purpose would it serve? Scully pushed it out of her mind and took careful aim with the ball. People were wrong; this game was about accuracy, not height. As she was about to throw, a footfall sounded outside the door. It was swiftly followed by a firm knock. Scully answered it warily, finding herself face to face with the grim countenance of Mr. X.
“Where’s Mulder?” Scully demanded as X stepped past her into Mulder’s apartment. She shut the door.
“That’s a good question Agent Scully.” He turned to face her. “I had already supposed that your contacting me meant that you suspect my associates of being involved in his disappearance.”
“Wouldn’t that be a logical assumption?” Scully asked.
“Logical perhaps, but incorrect. I don’t know where he is.”
“Even if Mulder wasn’t taken by your ‘associates’, then I doubt that either of us go anywhere without your being aware of our whereabouts.”
“Exactly, Agent Scully.” X stated flatly. “I don’t know where he is. Agent Mulder has disappeared.”
“He can’t just have vanished off the planet.” Scully exclaimed.
“Are you sure of that?” He moved back towards the door. “I’m afraid I can’t help you.”
“Wait!” Scully called and X turned back. “If you locate him will you give me the information?”
“Would you do the same?” He questioned with a grim smile and left, closing the door after him.
“Not a chance.” Scully whispered into the darkness, but Mr. X already knew that.
Scully sat down angrily onto the couch and bashed a fist into the supple leather.
“Dammit Mulder, where are you?” She asked out loud. Her eyes flicked up and locked on a painting on the wall.
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“Mulder, what are you looking at? Scully asked as she walked into the basement office. Mulder shook his head as if clearing it. His eyes stayed locked on the painting.
“Just a painting I bought.”
“You bought a painting?” Her tone was light and teasing. He didn’t even look up.
“I don’t know why.” He said absently. “I just had to buy it.” As she took the painting out of his hands he seemed to shiver. It was a nice enough painting; a beach at sunset. Scully hated it on sight.
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Scully stood up from her place on Mulder’s couch and went up to the picture. It did look lovely and peaceful. The half dark sky, the suspended sea birds, the tattered beach house, the figure of a man standing watching the waves lapping gently at the shoreline.
Something in Scully’s mind pulled her up short. A man; had there been a man in the painting before. Well, she didn’t get a very good look at it in the office that day. Mulder had taken the painting back out of her hands and resumed staring at it. The likelihood was that she simply hadn’t taken a good enough look at it before. No matter how she tried to rationalise, the figure still disturbed her.
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“Dana? Dana? Can you hear me? Dana?” Mulder’s voice called through the veil of darkness. The sound of waves was loud in the background and she could hear the soft call of sea birds. She tried to see him, but she couldn’t.
Scully woke up.
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The Next Day.
Computer Lab.
FBI Headquarters.
“Can you enlarge just the figure for me?” Scully asked the young man sitting at the computer beside her.
“Sure thing.” He answered as he set about doing as she asked. Scully stared and moved closer to the screen.
“Another ten on the face.” She said as calmly as she could. The operator performed the enlargement. Scully bit back a gasp.
“That’s one helluva good likeness of Agent Mulder.” The operator told her admiringly. Scully resisted the urge to lick her suddenly dried out lips. Her mind swam sickeningly.
“Yes it is.” She answered warily. “Can I get a copy of this?” She pointed at the screen.
*************************
Several hours later.
Scully pushed open the door of the junk shop. She’d gotten the address from Mrs. Lincoln, having finally worked out Mulder’s line of thought regarding the Lincoln case. If he’d suspected that it was somehow to do with the painting he’d seen on the little girls bedroom wall – who knew just how Mulder arrived at these conclusions – then he would have come here. A small bell tinkled as the door opened.
“Hello?” Scully called when she realised that there was not a soul in sight. She brushed past a shelf and dislodged a flurry of dust. She coughed as she inhaled some of the fine powder.
“Sometimes things shouldn’t be disturbed.” A voice said behind her and Scully turned to face an old man.
“This place could use dusting.” She remarked.
“And what would happen to the dust? Where would it go?” The old man asked and Scully frowned in confusion. “You’re looking for someone.” Belatedly Scully pulled her ID.
“I’m Dana Scully, I’m with the FBI. I’m looking for my partner, Fox Mulder.”
“Oh yes, I remember Agent Mulder. Troubled young man. I sold him a painting.”
“Yeah I know. I was just wondering . . .”
“You were wondering if I knew anything about his whereabouts.” Scully shrugged and nodded. “I know that he’s safe and happy. If you want what’s best for him, then you’ll just let him be.”
“I can’t do that. I need to find him.”
“You care for him a great deal?”
“He’s my partner.” The old man just smiled. “Look, if you know his location then it’s an offense for you not to give me that information.” The man just moved to one of the shelves.
“I have just the painting for you.”
“I don’t want a painting, I just want to find my partner.” Scully insisted. He placed a painting into her hands.
Scully stared down at it. It was of a beautiful woodland, just like the ones she remembered from a million childhood vacations. The sun filtered through the branches and created a dappled pattern on the woodland floor. A gentle brook meandered through the left of the painting, the water flowed over moss covered rocks. Scully could almost hear the soothing sound of running water. A log cabin stood in the perfect clearing. A small fluffy dog frolicked on the verandah. <Queequag> Tears welled in her eyes at the thought of her dead pet, she blinked them back brutally. She could feel the icy coolness of the forest air. Almost hear the birdsong. Queequag’s odd little bark. But Mulder was in trouble. Scully grabbed onto the thought and forced her eyes closed. The feeling the painting gave her flew instantly out of her head now that she could no longer see it. With difficulty, she handed the painting back to the old man. It was like ripping out a part of her soul. The man just stared at her as she opened her eyes and pressed the painting firmly into his hands. Her eyes were full of icy determination.
“I just want to find my partner.” She insisted once more.
The man finally took the painting from her and replaced it on the shelf with obvious regret.
“You know Dana, the border between realities is very thin and simple objects can form simple links to different places. These places can be freedom or traps to the people that cross to them, but there is a way back. That is, if you have reason enough to *want* to come back.”
He walked away from her and out back past the curtain.
“What about Mulder?” Scully called, following him. She found herself standing in front of the shop The sign on the door now said ‘Closed’.
*************************
“Dana?” Mulder’s voice said softly inside her dream. He was stood on the beach in the painting. Waves lapped soothingly on the sand. “It’s peaceful here. You could be safe. You wanted to be safe.” Scully was unsure. “*We* could be safe here.” He insisted.
Scully awoke shaken from the dream. Mindlessly she crossed to the painting hanging on her bedroom wall. Despite her loathing for the it, she could not take her eyes away. Always it came back to the painting. Of it’s violition, her hand reached up to touch the painted surface.
Her fingers broke the surface as if it was the still water of a lake. Her fingertips passed straight through and Scully panicked. Her rational mind screamed at her that she was still dreaming and that none of this was real. Her hand jerked back, but it didn’t make it far. A strong masculine hand reached out and pulled her into the painting.