The X-Files: DAYS OF GRAYCE
From: matthewk@ucsu.Colorado.EDU (MATTHEWS-SIMMONS KELLIE)
Date: Fri, 5 Aug 1994 19:13:37 GMT
PLEASE NOTE! *I* did not write this. I am just posting it for the
author who does not have newsgroup access. If you want to comment on the
story please send mail to the author, Sarah Stegall, sfsfs@fail.com; not
to me. --KMS
The following is a tribute to David Duchovny, whose birthday is
August 7. Over the years, this outstanding actor has played many
characters, in large and small parts. I took as many of the characters he
has played as would fit and put them all into one room, letting them
interact. Some of them are entirely dissimilar, and some fit remarkably
well together.
Since these characters come from movies and television shows spanning
nearly seven years, it would be impossible to list all of the copyright
holders. Let's just say this is all in fun and no copyright infringement
is intended. Attorneys, chill out. All of these characters have been used
without permission. Everything but those characters is copyrighted by ME
and may not be used without MY permission. Which is easy to get.
Probably only the most rabid fans will recognize all of the in-jokes
built into this one, so I am making available a "cheat sheet" to help
those who miss some of them.
Comments, lavish praise, and flames may be directed to me at
sfsfs@fail.com. I have a tough hide and welcome comments at all levels.
I hope you enjoy this story.
And David, wherever you are, happy birthday.
------------------------------------------------
DAYS OF GRAYCE
By Sarah Stegall
Brian Kessler paced nervously from the door to the refreshment table
and back again.
"Brian, calm down," said the long-legged, black-haired woman sitting
(or rather, lounging) behind it. "You'd make a cat nervous."
"What if nobody comes?"
Carrie Laughlin gave him a long, level look out of dark eyes. "Be
serious."
"I am serious. Maybe nobody will come. It'll be a disaster."
She inhaled deeply on her cigarette, exhaled a long plume of smoke.
Her eyes roamed across the walls in cool appraisal.
The small storefront on North Third had been cleared for the party
introducing Brian's new book. The walls were now hung with black and
white photographs, some framed, some not. They were stark, sere,
commanding: interplay of light and shadow that concealed as much as they
revealed. Here a face made evil by its eyes was redeemed by a soft mouth.
Here a mangled body was made pitiful by an open hand, a blank eye. Here a
lovely young girl lay dead on a patio surrounded by cactus.
Kessler stopped in front of that one, his lean frame a sharp contrast
to the softened image. The spotlight caught and highlighted the scar high
on his left cheek, the scar Early Grayce had left on him. Some scars
don't show, thought Carrie.
"I wish we had a better picture of Adele," Kessler said, almost to
himself.
"What's wrong with that one?"
He turned to look at her anxiously. "Nothing, nothing," he said
quickly. "I just wish we had put one in the book that showed her when she
was alive."
When had Brian stopped wearing his earrings? she wondered. Since
killing Grayce, Brian had become more reserved, more isolated. She was
growing tired of Kessler's moods. They'd been through hell
together--kidnap, rape, murder. But that didn't mean they were joined at
the hip. She opened her mouth but was cut short by the entry of another
man.
Tall and lanky, Daniel was dressed as informally as ever--striped
shirt, chinos, casual loafers. He looked good in casual clothes and
obviously knew it. He fairly shone with self-satisfaction. Once again
Carrie noted how much the two men resembled each other, and how different
they really were. Daniel sauntered over to her immediately.
"You look great," he said smoothly.
"Thanks."
"That color really suits you. Really, I mean it."
"You've said that about every color I've ever worn," she said acidly.
"They all look great on you."
"Daniel, go peddle it somewhere else, okay? I'm not in the mood."
"You're never in the mood."
"Not with you, no."
"Why not? I like you, I really do. Can't we be friends?"
"You're Brian's agent. You're not my friend."
His smug look faltered a little, but was seamlessly repaired as
Kessler came up. Daniel looked at his client coolly.
"All set?"
Brian looked at Daniel. "No one is coming."
"Nonsense. I invited at least fifty people. If only half of them
show, we'll be a complete success," he said with hearty insincerity.
Brian frowned. "I thought we were only inviting a dozen."
Daniel waved his hands. "Oh, just a few extras, you know. People in
the business I owe a favor to."
"This is all coming out of my advance, Daniel. I'd appreciate it
if--"
"Ah, here we are!" Daniel escaped to the front door, where a tall,
dark-haired man was escorting an equally tall, striking looking woman in
the front door.
"Are we too early?"
"Not at all, not at all," said Daniel unctuously. "Let me take your
coats. So glad you could make it."
"Oh, thank you," said the woman in a surprisingly deep voice. Her
wrap came off wide shoulders to reveal a brilliant red ensemble in silk,
exquisitely tailored and somehow subtly wrong. Skinny legs, noted Daniel
as he took her wrap. He noted with a practiced eye the expensive red
shoes, the carefully arranged hair, the professional makeup job. Unusual
woman, he thought to himself. He turned to the man.
"Welcome to our opening. Brian and Carrie are in the salon."
The tall man looked past him. "Salon?"
"Over here," called Brian, advancing with his hand out. "Coop, I'm
glad you could come. Dennis, how do you do?"
"Coop?" said Daniel.
Kessler turned to his agent. "Daniel, I'd like you to meet Agent
Dale Cooper of the FBI and Agent Dennis--"
"Denise, if you don't mind," said the tall woman.
"Sorry. Denise Brysson of the DEA. Dale and Denise were involved in
the Grayce investigation."
"Until you terminated it." Cooper smiled, shaking hands with
Kessler. "He led us quite a chase, didn't he?"
"Daniel is my agent," explained Kessler. "He helped land the book
deal, and we're negotiating for movie rights."
Denise leaned over and kissed the air next to Kessler's cheek;
Kessler pulled back quickly. "Hello, Brian. Nice to see you again. What
happened to the earrings?"
Daniel was still staring at the tall figure in red before him.
"Dennis?"
"I prefer Denise," she said, handing him a perfectly manicured hand.
"Pleased to meet you."
Daniel took her hand automatically, then dropped it abruptly.
"You're with the DEA? They have women agents?"
"More or less," the tall brunette replied easily. "I was tracking
Early Grayce. We still think he was involved with a Louisville drug ring
we busted right before he took off for California. In a very small way,
of course."
"I never thought he was that smart," Kessler said. He turned to
Cooper. "Those pictures you guys wrangled out of the Bureau for me really
added a lot to the book. Especially the crime scene photos, Dennis--"
"Denise."
"--My publisher would never have been able to get those released if
it weren't for your help."
"How did they turn out?"
"Carrie loved them. Did you ever meet Carrie? Come on over and see
the pictures she took for the book."
Kessler led them away, still talking, as the door opened to admit
three more people.
"I told you we were too early," said the blonde woman in the bomber
jacket. "We should have come at least an hour later."
Her silent companion was tall and dark haired, with sleepy hazel eyes
and a cap worn backward on his head. He bent slightly as he came through
the door, as if from long habit.
"Hi, I'm Daniel--"
"Where are the photographs?" the blonde demanded imperiously.
"They're in the salon. May I take--"
"Salon?" She and her silent companion both looked past him.
"Right through there. Bri--"
"Thanks. Come on, Rollie."
The blonde swept past him without another glance. The tall man
shrugged and followed her. He hadn't said a word.
"But are you--" Daniel began to follow them.
"Excuse me?" asked a mellow voice.
Daniel turned. "Yes?"
"Uh, is this the Brian Kessler party?"
"Yes, it is. Do you have an invitation?"
"Uh, no. But I was hoping I could maybe get an autograph. I read
the reviews and I thought...well..."
He was very young, but looked quite familiar to Daniel. Maybe it was
the dark eyes, the mole on the right cheek. There was a nervous, uncertain
quality about the young man that reminded the Daniel of somebody.
"Excuse me, have we met?" he said condescendingly.
"No, I don't think so. My name's Billy," the younger man said,
holding out his hand. It was soft and limp in Daniel's. "I only moved
here from New York a couple of weeks ago."
"Are you--in the publishing business?" Daniel hazarded.
The younger man shrugged. "I've been published, just a couple of
poems, but that's not why I came out to the Coast. You see, my
girlfriend--that is, she used to be my---"
Daniel was immediately bored.
"Brian's right through there, in the salon."
"Salon? I don't see--"
"Please feel free to introduce yourself. Er, you're over eighteen, I
take it?"
"Yes."
"Then help yourself to the beer."
The door swung open to admit two upright, professional figures in
raincoats. Daniel was beginning to recognize the look.
"Hi. Brian here?"
"He's in the salon."
The red-haired woman looked past him. "Salon?"
"May I take your coat?"
"No, thanks. Mulder, may I have your keys? I want to lock my
briefcase in the trunk of the car."
"Sure, I'll--"
"You're Agent Mulder?"
"Yes. Fox Mulder." The dark eyes were suddenly wary. "I don't
believe we've met, though you look familiar."
"I feel like I know you already," Daniel said, suddenly feeling that
the trite phrase held more truth than usually. "I'm Daniel, Brian's agent.
So glad you could make it. Brian's told me so much--"
"Excuse me. I think I know that guy. Coop!"
Dale Cooper turned quickly. "Mulder! I didn't know you were
coming!"
The two men shook, smiling at one another.
"Scully and I had to testify in a kidnapping trial, so we decided to
combine business and business."
"Agent Scully? Is she here?"
"Right here," said the flame haired agent, coming up behind Mulder.
She looked up at Dale Cooper with bright hazel eyes.
Cooper had opened his mouth to speak, but stood frozen.
Fox Mulder smiled to himself. He was used to that reaction. "Dana,
this is Dale Cooper. He and I were working on the Early Grayce
investigation together. Dale, this is my partner, Dr. Dana Scully."
Dale took her small hand in his gently. "I've heard about you.
Dianne talks about you all the time."
"Dianne? Is she your wife?"
"No, she's--"
"Don't forget about me," said the tall woman at Cooper's side. "I
want to meet Mulder's partner, too." She embraced Mulder and kissed him
on the cheek. "Hello again, Mulder."
"Brysson." Mulder eyed the tall woman circumspectly. "Red is not
your color."
"Bitch." She smiled to take the edge from her words, a brilliant
smile that warmed her face. Dana eyed the woman in red and forced a
smile.
"You must be Dianne." She looked more closely. "You look familiar.
Have we met?"
"I'm afraid I haven't had the pleasure," drawled the dark-eyed
beauty. "I'm Denise Brysson, with the DEA."
"Dana Scully. FBI."
"That blue looks very good on you."
Cooper beamed as the pair shook hands. "Dennis--I'm sorry--Denise
was working with the RCMP on a drug ring and I was working on a series of
murders up in a little town named Twin Peaks when Agent Mulder called us
in, Dana. But why weren't you two working together?"
Dana looked bewildered. She had just realized who--and what--Denise
Brysson was. "I was on another investigation. We--"
"Mulder! Good to see you!" Brian Kessler, grinning widely,
approached. Carrie followed languidly in his wake, smoking nonchalantly.
He gave Dana a long, appraising look. "Hell-o! This must be Dana Scully?
Mulder's told us so much about you."
"Really? Excuse me, have I met you before?"
"No, I don't think so."
"Maybe you saw the photo on the book jacket, Dana," suggested Cooper.
"But I haven't--"
"Hello, Fox," said Carrie, kissing him on the cheek. He now had
lipstick on each cheek, in different shades of red. Dana thought it gave
him an uncommonly rakish air.
"Mulder," he corrected Carrie firmly, reaching for his handkerchief.
"If you don't mind."
Carrie smiled widely. "But Fox is such a cute name. It suits you so
perfectly."
Dana winced, knowing how Mulder hated his first name. Carrie moved
closer to him and put a hand through his arm. "I made sure there were some
sunflower seeds on the table tonight."
He looked at her in surprise. "You remembered?"
"I remember everything about you, Fox."
"Is this the photography exhibit?"
Daniel turned just as the door swung shut behind a tall man in a tan
raincoat. What was it with raincoats? he thought irritably. It hadn't
rained in Los Angeles in months. Maybe it was a new trend he didn't know
about. He'd have to check it out.
"This is Brian Kessler's book release party."
"Book?" The man looked hauntingly familiar to Daniel. There was a
hint of sadness in the eyes, the set of the long, mobile mouth. He
stooped as though carrying a burden he'd borne for a long time. "What
book?"
Daniel sighed. "It's called 'Days of Grayce'. It's about a serial
killer named Early Grayce and how he kidnapped Brian and Carrie."
The man looked down at the newspaper clipping in his hand. "Oh.
Yes. I'm sorry. I saw the review and it mentioned her photographs. I
didn't mean to..."
"That's all right," Daniel said hurriedly, seeing more people
approaching the door. It looked as though he was going to be a doorman
all night. "Go right on in to the salon."
The man looked past him into the now crowded room. "Salon? But
that's just a--"
But Daniel had turned away.
"Mulder? Can I ask you something? In private?" Scully's quiet voice
sounded very uncertain.
"Sure, Scully." He drew her away from Carrie and Kessler, turning his
back to shield them from the rest of the room. Denise's eyes followed
Mulder. "What's up?"
"Agent Brysson. Is she....I mean, she looks so..."
"Dennis used to dress like me," Mulder said, deadpan. "Then he
discovered his true nature and started to dress a whole lot better."
"But, I mean...an agent..." she floundered. "I don't want to sound
old-fashioned, but..."
"He just got in touch with his feminine side. Don't worry about it.
He--or she--won't bother you."
Dana looked at him shrewdly. "I don't think I can say the same about
Carrie Laughlin. She likes you."
Mulder raised one eyebrow. "You think so? Wow. Maybe I'll get
lucky tonight!"
"Mulder, I never know when you're kidding."
"That makes two of us. Let's get a beer."
The man in the tan raincoat drifted uncertainly, as though lost.
Couples stood chatting around the table holding an array of canaps,
clustered around the ice chest holding beer. One or two strolled along
looking at the photographs. Indecisively, he hovered near the book table
with its glossy dust jacket. In stark black and white, the cover showed a
face with eyes straight out of hell and a mouth as cruel as it was stupid.
"Days of Grayce: The Bitter End of an American Killer" read the dark red
title, in letters the color of dried blood. Idly, the man picked it up
and turned the pages. The prose was dense but flowing, descriptive yet
spare. Almost unwillingly, he found himself caught up in the story.
"You like it?" a voice said at his elbow.
He looked up, startled. "Oh. Yes." He flipped the book over,
glanced at the photograph. "You must be Brian--"
"Kessler. Pleased to meet you. Would you like me to sign it?"
He hadn't really come in for the book, but he could see the eagerness
in Kessler's face. And after all, it wasn't a bad book. "I'd be
honored," he said, holding the book out.
"Who should I sign it to?" Kessler said, taking a fountain pen out of
his breast pocket.
"Jake."
Kessler looked at him expectantly.
The other man flushed slightly. "Just...Jake. If you don't mind."
"For a man who hates mysteries, he generates quite a few of his own,"
said a voice behind him.
Jake froze and then turned slowly.
"Kate," he said, his voice suddenly cracked and thin.
"Hello, Jake. It's been a long time."
Kessler finished signing the title page and handed the book to Jake.
"You know each other?"
"We do." Kate Lyons smiled a small smile. "Very well indeed."
Behind her, Rollie's eyes narrowed as he looked Jake up and down with
a calculating stare.
"I didn't know you were a crime fan," said Kate. There was a
challenge in the way she said it, as though she were really saying
something else, something that expected an argument.
But Jake merely shrugged and turned away. "I just came to look at
the pictures," he said, and then looked stricken as he realized what he
had said. He turned to Kessler. "Oh, hey, I didn't mean--"
Kessler smiled. "It's okay. I think she does pretty good work,
myself. Carrie would--now where did she go?" He looked around. "Would
you like to meet her?"
Not really, Jake thought. His deepest wish right now was to go away
as fast as possible, but he wouldn't give Kate the satisfaction of seeing
him run.
"You're cultivating a taste for photography, Jake?" she said coolly.
"I had no idea."
He almost snarled at her. "You cultivating a taste for murder?"
"Rollie here wanted to see the photographs." She gestured to her
companion as if to call a dog. He came forward and Kate made the
introductions. "This is Rollie Flecks. He works for United Artists. He's
a cinematographer."
Jake shook his hand warily. "I'm Jake--"
"Here we are," interrupted Kessler. This time he had Carrie firmly
by one arm, pulling her along through the crowd. "Carrie, this is Jake.
He came here to see your pictures."
The cool black eyes assessed him distantly. "I'm flattered."
"I haven't really had much of a chance to look at them," he said. He
couldn't take his eyes from her face. Those cheekbones, those eyes. She
wasn't his type, but she was a hell of a type, Jake thought. He almost
forgot about the blonde bitch who had been baiting him.
"I'm Kate Lyons," the blonde said, edging forward. "I'm a
photographer. I like your work."
"Me, too," said Rollie. Everyone looked at him. It was the first
time he had spoken since he arrived.
"Thanks. You're a photographer?"
He nodded taciturnly. "Cinematographer. Movies. Never saw a real
murder before. Just a lot of fake ones."
"You work in the movies?" Brian said, and they could all hear the
excitement in his voice. "Which ones? Who do you work with?"
"Oops. I'm sorry. Gosh, it's so crowded in here it's hard to move.
Oh, I spilled on your dress. Here, let me--"
"It's quite all right. Please don't bother. Oh."
"I feel awful about this. Such a striking shade of red. Mayonnaise
doesn't do much for it, I'm afraid."
"Really, don't worry about it. My name is Denise."
"Hi. I'm Billy. I was looking for my girlfriend."
"Oh. Too bad."
"Excuse me?"
"Nothing. Did you know your tie is in your drink?"
"You look tired." Mulder looked down at his partner, slumping next
to him.
"I've had a long day." Spotting some chairs behind a table, Dana
pulled one against the wall and sat down. "Go mingle, Mulder. I'll wait
here."
"No, we can go--"
She shook her head. "Mulder, this is the first time I've been off my
feet in hours. I couldn't move if I wanted. Go talk to Carrie."
He smiled. "I'd rather talk to Eugene Tooms. You want a beer?"
"No, thanks. Go mingle, you party animal," she said dryly.
She leaned back and watched him move sinuously through the crowd.
She was trying to think of the last time she had seen him in any kind of
social situation, when a voice beside her interrupted.
"Dana? Would you like a cup of coffee?"
Dale Cooper stood with two foam cups, looking unsure of himself.
She reached for one gratefully. "Oh, thanks. Trust a cop to know
what another cop really needs."
He smiled, and a dimple appeared in one cheek. "They make a really
great cup of coffee at the sheriff's station I've been working out of.
May I sit?"
She nodded and he slid into the chair next to her, leaning forward,
his face earnest.
"I've been meaning to talk to Mulder, but now that you're here, I'd
rather talk to you. I'm sorry to talk shop, but my case up in Washington
is one that I think you two would be interested in. Superficially, it
appears to be an isolated murder, but I think it's part of a pattern."
"A serial killer?"
The agent nodded, sipping his coffee. "But...strange. I think it
would fit right in with your work."
As always, Dana felt slightly uneasy discussing the X- files around
other Bureau agents. Defensively, she spoke more sharply than she
intended.
"We don't do little green men."
"How did you get that one with the cactus?" Rollie asked Carrie.
"It looks like a dawn shot."
"It was sunset," she answered. "I used an f/6 stop at 1200 ASA."
"Minolta?"
"Leica 2000."
The cameraman nodded thoughtfully. "No parasol."
The corner of her mouth turned up, a tiny smile. "No. Not in the
circumstances. I wasn't aiming for effect. I was recording a crime."
"Some of these aren't yours," he added.
She cocked an eyebrow at him. "You have a very good eye. No, some
of them were taken by Early himself. I printed them in black and white
along with the rest. The color was too garish."
Rollie nodded understandingly. "Yeah. You want a theme, not a
documentary here."
"Exactly. An eye for design, too, I see."
"Have you ever exhibited before?"
"I had a show at a little gallery in Venice six months ago. I'm
trying to line something up at Zenith for next year."
"Your work isn't terribly commercial," he said dispassionately.
Carrie bristled. "I don't want to be commer--"
"I like that," he interrupted. "You have a good style. Don't ruin it
like the mercenary crap they do at Zenith."
Her eyes widened in surprise. Behind her, Kessler took on a pained
expression. "You think so?"
Unperturbed, he nodded again, then cocked his head and looked at her.
He appeared to be looking past her or through her, anywhere but at her.
Abruptly, he asked, "I'm working on a portfolio of my own. You have
fabulous bones. Would you sit for me?"
Carrie smiled, showing white teeth and snapping black eyes. "Maybe.
Let's talk about it."
She took his arm and moved away, leaving Kate and Brian and Jake as
though they didn't exist.
Jake looked from Rollie to Kate and back, and for the first time the
grim set of his mouth relaxed. He didn't exactly smile, but he didn't
look sad, either. He nodded sympathetically at Kessler, tucked his new
book under one arm and strolled away to the other end of the gallery.
In the awkward silence that followed, Brian looked at the books on
the table (only one less than they had started the evening with) avoiding
the blonde woman's eyes. He cleared his throat. "Would you like a beer,
ah, Kate?"
She drew a deep breath. "Sure," she said. "What do you have?"
"Lowenbrau," he said with a smile. "Lion's brew for the social
lion." His voice sounded a little sad, and he glanced after Carrie and
Rollie, now engaged in an animated discussion in front of a particularly
gruesome photograph.
"I'd love one," she said, and took his arm.
continued next file...
--
Kellie Matthews-Simmons//matthewk@ucsu.colorado.edu
Member: SFLA&EBS, PSEB, DDEB, X-phile "Ego veno eos in vulcos minos."
"Sometimes the need to mess with their heads outweighs the millstone of
humiliation." --Fox Mulder, X-Files "Squeeze"
From: matthewk@ucsu.Colorado.EDU (MATTHEWS-SIMMONS KELLIE)
Date: Fri, 5 Aug 1994 19:20:44 GMT
Days of Grayce, part 2
"Oh, hi. Are we too late?"
Daniel closed the door wearily. It was getting late and all the
h'ors d'oeuvres were gone. He hadn't gotten a bite, what with acting as
host and fielding gate crashers.
"Not if you have an invitation."
The tall man in the blue suit, no tie, and dark glasses pulled a
wadded square from an inside pocket of his jacket. "Here. I brought a
friend. I hope that's all right."
Daniel waved a hand. There wasn't enough food and drink left in this
party anyway, they may as well have it. "Go on in to the salon. Hey, wait
a minute! You're the guy on that show! I--"
But the tall man swept past him into the back room.
The room was packed and hot now, with the dull hum of a party winding
down. Cigarette smoke drifted in lazy clouds overhead, and the lights
looked too bright. The tall man in the sunglasses turned to his
companion, a curvaceous creature with striking eyes.
"You want a drink?"
"No. Let's just talk to Kessler and go."
He shrugged. "Okay. I have to catch an early flight to Vancouver
anyway."
"Do you like the b--oh, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to
startle you."
"It's okay, no harm done."
"You've been standing here in this corner all night. I saw you
reading it and wondered what you thought."
"I...it's very interesting."
"Which part do you like the best?"
"The part where you killed him."
"Oh."
"Sorry, I didn't mean it to sound so blunt."
"It's okay. I've come to terms with it."
"How?"
"How what?"
"How have you come to terms with it?" The young, long- haired man
stared at Brian with a sudden, almost frightening intensity, as though the
question held immeasurable significance.
Brian was a little taken aback. "Well.. I'm not sure I want to get
into a discussion--"
"I'm sorry. I shouldn't have asked."
"Wait," Brian said as the young man was turning away. Something in
those shadowed eyes spoke to him. "It's...it's all right. I was just a
little taken aback. It's kind of a personal subject to be discussing with
a stranger."
"I know. But it's...important to me. I...haven't met anyone else
who killed a man."
"Anyone else?"
"So you think this...this 'Bob' or whatever is committing the murders
by possessing people?"
"Yes, Dana, I do. And I'm not the only one. For a while, I
suspected that...well, never mind what I suspected. There have been some
very strange developments in this case, developments that I think you and
Mulder would be very interested in."
"You seem to know Mulder pretty well," Dana said cautiously. "I
don't remember he ever spoke of you."
"We met during an investigation several years ago. My partner and I
were guarding a Federal witness who was murdered. When I was injured and
Windham Earl lost his mind, Mulder was on the team called in to
investigate the case. I owe him a great deal."
"There seem to be a lot of people who owe Mulder."
"You don't look like you're enjoying this."
Jake turned and found himself looking into hazel eyes framed by long
lashes. Her gaze was deep, intense.
"I'm not, really. These are pretty appalling."
She smiled. "Carrie wouldn't like to hear you say that."
"Frankly, it's a little hard to believe a woman took these."
"Well, she's not much of a woman."
"You don't look like the catty type."
"Appearances can be deceiving. If you don't like the photographs,
why are you here?"
"I've been to every photo exhibit opening in Los Angeles in the last
seven months."
"You must really be a connoisseur."
"Not really. I'm...looking for a particular photograph. I ran
across it once and I'm trying to find it again."
"A woman's photograph?"
"How did you know?"
"Female intuition. Someone you know?"
"I'd like to know her."
"A singularly obsessed man. Would you like to talk about it?"
Jake looked into her eyes and felt a slight shiver go down his spine.
There was something about this woman, something intimate and familiar.
"Not to a woman wearing red high heels," he said. "Sorry. Private
joke." He smiled a very small smile.
"Ouch. You can do better than that," she said, smiling. Her mouth
was wide and warm and friendly.
"Sorry. I've--been going through a transition. I don't have much
practice smiling these days."
"Come sit down and talk. I'm a good listener. My name's Denise
Brysson, by the way."
"I'm Jake. Are you alone?"
"Aren't we all?"
Across the crowd, Rollie caught sight of the tall man in the blue
suit with the sunglasses and did a double take. He turned to Carrie and
leaned to whisper in her ear.
"I thought I was tough enough to take it," the long haired man was
saying to Brian intensely. "I thought I would forget it, get over it,
whatever. But the more time goes on the worse it gets. It's like a wound
that won't heal. I can...I can almost understand Early Grayce--he must
have been so tormented."
Brian thought, for the first time that night, of the man whose life
he had profiled. Whose life he had ended.
"Early Grayce wasn't tormented," he said quietly. "He had no
conscience, no remorse whatsoever. He was like a shark, except sharks
kill for a reason. He killed because he was mean." He took a long sip of
his beer. "Are you mean?"
"I don't think so," the younger man said. Kessler noticed that his
hair, though long, was graying prematurely. "But I don't know my limits
yet. You think you know them, and then..." He trailed off helplessly.
"I don't know what you expect to learn from my book," Brian said
gently. "I killed Early Grayce because he would have killed me. You said
someone paid you to kill a man. I don't know that they're all that
related."
The younger man looked away, flushing. "I guess not. But the way you
feel, afterward...how different could it be? Didn't you
feel....different?"
Brian looked thoughtful. "Yes. But like I said in the book, when I
pulled that trigger, I didn't feel a thing. Nothing. He died and I lived.
It was very, very simple."
The man turned Brian's book over and over in his hands. "It's easy to
kill a man," he said quietly. "But it's never simple."
Brian looked around. "I wouldn't talk too loudly about it, if I were
you," he said. "There are three FBI agents in the room right now."
The young man's eyes shot to Brian's face. "I don't care. I don't.
If it would mean an end to this...nothingness."
Brian felt a deep twinge of sympathy. He recognized a tortured soul.
What could he do for this young man so blighted, so damaged? He took the
book from the man's hands and opened it to the title page.
"What's your name?"
The man hesitated, and Brian smiled reassuringly. "Just your first
name."
"Randy."
"Okay. 'To Randy, to fill the void, all my best, Brian'," he recited
as he wrote. "And here's my phone number. Call me if you need to talk.
Don't worry," he said quickly as Randy glanced at Cooper and Mulder across
the room. "I won't say anything."
"You won't...turn me in?"
"No. You'll turn yourself in, I think. Or find absolution
somewhere," Brian said thoughtfully. "Not from me. But I'll help you
look, all right?"
Randy accepted the book and ran his hand over the garish dust jacket.
He looked at Brian out of unfathomable eyes. "You know, it's a strange
thing. You say we have nothing in common, but when I saw your picture on
this book...I felt like I knew you already."
There were several books left on the table. The tall man paid for
one and looked out across the room, searching for Kessler, glancing at the
book jacket now and then to confirm the portrait.
"Looking for someone?"
He turned and found Fox Mulder smiling at him. Their eyes were at a
dead level. "Yeah. I'm looking for the author."
"He's over there with the long-haired guy."
The tall man looked, then frowned. "His back is to us. Yet you saw
him."
Mulder smiled again. "I'm good at finding people. Come to think of
it, I think I know you."
The other man stepped back. "I'm an actor. You may have seen my
show."
Mulder's eyes crinkled at the corners. "Oh, yeah. I know who you
are now."
"Mind keeping it to yourself?"
"I'm even better at keeping secrets than I am at finding people."
"Thanks."
Mulder watched the tall man move away.
"Hi," purred a voice at his elbow. "What's your name?"
He looked down at a brassy blonde wearing a bomber jacket. "Mulder.
What's yours?"
"Kate Lyons. I'm a photographer. You a friend of Brian's?"
"Sort of. I helped him with his book. You?"
She tilted her head and looked up at him sideways, kittenish. "I'm a
photographer. I came to see the photographs."
"Then you must be a friend of Carrie's."
"Wrong again. Do you always eat sunflower seeds without shelling
them first?"
"Yes. Want some?"
"No, thanks. Why don't you shell them?"
"They add fiber to my diet. Can I buy you a beer?"
"Wine. I've been watching you. You look a lot like someone I know."
"I have one of the twelve standard faces. Who do I look like to
you?"
"For blood we usually use a combination of Karo syrup and grape
juice. It gives the right consistency, but the color balance is a pain.
You usually have to filter it all to hell in the close-ups, and every
single makeup artist in Hollywood has his or her own personal, secret
recipe for it. So if you get more than one makeup artist on a shoot doing
blood, you're likely to have oh, six or seven shades of the damn stuff."
"Why not get just one makeup artist for one shoot, and another for
another shoot?"
"That's not the way it works. It's all unions, you know, Cassie--"
"Carrie."
"Oh, yeah. Like the Stephen King book."
"No. Like in 'pick up and take away'."
There was a brief pause.
"Would you like to get out of here?"
"Oh, really, Mulder. I go away for five minutes to fix my face and
already you're chatting up the prettiest girl at the ball."
Denise sauntered up, swaying elegantly in the red dress. Kate glared
at her.
"Jealous, Brysson?" Mulder said sardonically, glancing at Kate.
Denise cocked one eyebrow and tilted her head, appraising the blonde
with a slow glance up and down. "Oh, I don't know. Who am I supposed to
be jealous of?"
Kate smiled a tight smile. "If this is your taste, Mr. Mulder, I'll
leave you to...it."
"Oooh, this one has claws," drawled Denise.
"Freak," hissed Kate. She glared at Mulder again. "I don't get it.
You don't look like the type."
Mulder rolled his eyes. "You never know, sweetie."
Spotting Kessler across the room, Kate stormed off.
Mulder took a swig of his beer. "Thanks. She was annoying."
"Pretty obvious, all right," Denise said. "Too bad. I liked her. I
swear I know her. I wonder if we ever dated."
"I thought you liked them a little taller," said Mulder.
"How would you know?" Denise purred, picking up a handful of
sunflower seeds. "Are you still eating these things?"
"I'm thinking of joining a twelve-step program."
"Oops. Whoa, careful there."
"Sorry. I'm just upset." Kate dabbed ineffectually at the spreading
coffee stain on the tablecloth. "A guy just gave me the brushoff."
"Thereby proving himself an utter fool," said Dale Cooper gallantly.
He held out a packet of sugar. "Sugar?"
"No, thanks. I drink it black," she answered. As she looked up, her
eyes widened. "Oh. Do I know you?"
Cooper looked at her solemnly. "I don't believe so. Were you ever in
a town called Twin Peaks?"
"No. Sounds like a dump."
"Oh, it has its charms. Fantastic trees."
Kate shrugged and picked up her coffee. "Sorry. Wrong number." She
walked away.
"Hello."
Brian whirled and came face to face with the tall man in sunglasses.
Then he caught sight of the woman on his arm and forgot to breathe for a
moment. With an effort, he dragged his eyes back to the man's face.
"Hi. I'm sorry, I know the face but not the name," Brian said.
"Aren't you--"
"I just wanted to tell you how much I enjoyed your book." The tall
man leaned closer, almost cheek to cheek. "I'd just as soon everyone here
didn't know who I am. If you don't mind."
Brian Kessler's eyes went wide. "Of course. I didn't recognize you
at first. Wow. You liked my book?"
"Yes. I was wondering if you've sold the movie rights yet. I know a
producer who might be interested."
Brian smiled broadly. "Really? Well, you'll have to talk to my
agent. That's him right over--now where did he go? He was at the door
just a minute ago."
"The doorman is your agent?"
Brian flushed a little. "Well, just say my agent is the doorman
tonight. I'll find him and you can talk."
The tall man shook his head. He disengaged the woman's hand from his
arm and reached into his breast pocket. "I'm not the one to talk to.
Here. Have him call this number. Give them my name. They'll talk to
you."
"Thanks. Can I get you a drink?"
"No, we have to be going." The tall man's hand had somehow strayed
from the woman's back to her hip, where it appeared very content. Brian
was carefully not looking at her.
"May I give you a copy of the book?"
The tall man shrugged. "Sure. An autographed copy?"
Brian grinned. "I'll autograph yours if you'll autograph mine."
Dana rubbed her face with both hands. She was so tired.
"Look, would you like to get out of here, maybe go get some coffee
and pie somewhere? You don't look like you're enjoying this." Dale
Cooper's voice was warm, understanding.
She looked at him gratefully. "Oh, I'd love to. But I can't just
abandon Mulder like that."
Dale smiled. "I wouldn't worry about Mulder. Between Denise and
Carrie, I'm sure he'll get a ride home tonight."
Dale looked startled. "Mulder?"
Cooper raised an eyebrow. "You don't know him half as well as you
think."
"But...Denise?"
Dale laughed, showing white teeth. "Oh, that. Don't take it
seriously. They're just friends, they kid around a lot. Brysson and
Mulder go way back, clear to the Academy. They were roommates, I think.
And Dennis likes girls, he just likes to mess with people's heads."
Dana took a deep breath. She felt immensely relieved.
"What about Carrie Laughlin?"
Dale eyed her curiously. "Why do you care?"
Dana blushed. "I don't know much about Mulder."
"Apparently not. Mulder can swim with sharks like Carrie, but he
doesn't take them to bed. At least not the Mulder I know."
"Which Mulder is that?" asked Mulder, coming up to them.
"The one who stays way too late at parties," Cooper said, standing.
"I was offering to take Dana back to her hotel. She's pretty tired."
Mulder looked from his partner to his friend, taking in their close
stance, Cooper's hand on Dana's shoulder--but said nothing.
He looked down at her, his expression unreadable. "I still have the
car keys. Do you want your briefcase?"
"No. You can give it back to me in the morning." Realizing too late
that this implied something other than she intended, she blushed
furiously. But she could think of nothing to say that wouldn't make it
worse.
"Tell Denise I'll pick her up tomorrow morning," Dale Cooper said.
"Remind her we have a ten o'clock meeting with the pathologist's office."
"I'll do that. Goodnight, Scully."
"Goodnight, Mulder."
They left, and their exit started a general exodus. Suddenly there
was a flurry of shifting, of people looking around for abandoned coats,
looking at watches. Mulder stood and watched quietly, eating sunflower
seeds. The tall actor with the stunning date was the next to leave,
followed by several people carrying Kessler's book. He watched the man
called Jake kiss Denise's hand and depart. Rollie and Carrie, avoiding
Brian Kessler, slipped out while Daniel wasn't looking. A long haired
young man shook Brian's hand and walked out, a spring in his step. A very
young man talking to Denise shook his head reluctantly; then he turned and
left. The tall femme fatale smiled after him and turned to look around
the room. Catching sight of Mulder, the smile widened and she glided
across the rapidly emptying room.
"All alone at the ball?" she asked lightly, sliding an arm through
Mulder's. "Cinderella went home with the prince?"
"Actually, I think she's going home with Brian." Mulder nodded
towards Kessler, who was attempting to detach himself from Kate Lyons.
The woman was urging him towards the door, where a weary Daniel stood
holding the keys and jingling them.
"Time to go," Denise said.
Mulder sighed. "I guess. How did you come to be stuck with me,
instead of your usual dazzling creature?"
They pushed through the door into the cool reek of the Los Angeles
night. Behind him Daniel locked the door.
Denise shrugged. "Brian caught the only blonde who interested me."
"Blondes? I thought you went for brunettes?"
"Only some brunettes." Denise slanted a look at him out of expressive
eyes. "And the occasional redhead."
Mulder stopped dead, looking levelly at Denise. "Dana?"
The transvestite shrugged. "Sure. She's gorgeous, or hadn't you
noticed?"
"She's not your type," Mulder said, tension in his voice. He started
walking more quickly, heading for a taxi stand.
"Oh. You mean she's your type?"
Mulder shot his friend a smoldering look. "I mean you might find
yourself out of your league entirely with her."
The woman shrugged elegantly. "Oh, well. I've got an early morning,
anyway. But I envy you, Mulder."
Mulder sighed. "Don't. Can I drop you somewhere?"
"No, thanks. I called a taxi. I think I know where Kate and Brian
are going. I'm not done yet with that woman."
Mulder grinned. "She'll be quite a challenge. No woman likes a man
who looks better in pantyhose than she does. Here's your taxi." He stuck
out a hand. "Good to see you again, Dennis. Stay out of trouble."
Denise threw back her head and laughed. "Fox Mulder tells me to stay
out of trouble! Oh, that's good!"
Mulder watched as the taxi drove off, taillights fading in the night.
He pulled the lapels of his raincoat tighter and walked off up the
street toward his car.
THE END
--
Kellie Matthews-Simmons//matthewk@ucsu.colorado.edu
Member: SFLA&EBS, PSEB, DDEB, X-phile "Ego veno eos in vulcos minos."
"Sometimes the need to mess with their heads outweighs the millstone of
humiliation." --Fox Mulder, X-Files "Squeeze"
Date: Fri, 5 Aug 1994 19:13:37 GMT
PLEASE NOTE! *I* did not write this. I am just posting it for the
author who does not have newsgroup access. If you want to comment on the
story please send mail to the author, Sarah Stegall, sfsfs@fail.com; not
to me. --KMS
The following is a tribute to David Duchovny, whose birthday is
August 7. Over the years, this outstanding actor has played many
characters, in large and small parts. I took as many of the characters he
has played as would fit and put them all into one room, letting them
interact. Some of them are entirely dissimilar, and some fit remarkably
well together.
Since these characters come from movies and television shows spanning
nearly seven years, it would be impossible to list all of the copyright
holders. Let's just say this is all in fun and no copyright infringement
is intended. Attorneys, chill out. All of these characters have been used
without permission. Everything but those characters is copyrighted by ME
and may not be used without MY permission. Which is easy to get.
Probably only the most rabid fans will recognize all of the in-jokes
built into this one, so I am making available a "cheat sheet" to help
those who miss some of them.
Comments, lavish praise, and flames may be directed to me at
sfsfs@fail.com. I have a tough hide and welcome comments at all levels.
I hope you enjoy this story.
And David, wherever you are, happy birthday.
------------------------------------------------
DAYS OF GRAYCE
By Sarah Stegall
Brian Kessler paced nervously from the door to the refreshment table
and back again.
"Brian, calm down," said the long-legged, black-haired woman sitting
(or rather, lounging) behind it. "You'd make a cat nervous."
"What if nobody comes?"
Carrie Laughlin gave him a long, level look out of dark eyes. "Be
serious."
"I am serious. Maybe nobody will come. It'll be a disaster."
She inhaled deeply on her cigarette, exhaled a long plume of smoke.
Her eyes roamed across the walls in cool appraisal.
The small storefront on North Third had been cleared for the party
introducing Brian's new book. The walls were now hung with black and
white photographs, some framed, some not. They were stark, sere,
commanding: interplay of light and shadow that concealed as much as they
revealed. Here a face made evil by its eyes was redeemed by a soft mouth.
Here a mangled body was made pitiful by an open hand, a blank eye. Here a
lovely young girl lay dead on a patio surrounded by cactus.
Kessler stopped in front of that one, his lean frame a sharp contrast
to the softened image. The spotlight caught and highlighted the scar high
on his left cheek, the scar Early Grayce had left on him. Some scars
don't show, thought Carrie.
"I wish we had a better picture of Adele," Kessler said, almost to
himself.
"What's wrong with that one?"
He turned to look at her anxiously. "Nothing, nothing," he said
quickly. "I just wish we had put one in the book that showed her when she
was alive."
When had Brian stopped wearing his earrings? she wondered. Since
killing Grayce, Brian had become more reserved, more isolated. She was
growing tired of Kessler's moods. They'd been through hell
together--kidnap, rape, murder. But that didn't mean they were joined at
the hip. She opened her mouth but was cut short by the entry of another
man.
Tall and lanky, Daniel was dressed as informally as ever--striped
shirt, chinos, casual loafers. He looked good in casual clothes and
obviously knew it. He fairly shone with self-satisfaction. Once again
Carrie noted how much the two men resembled each other, and how different
they really were. Daniel sauntered over to her immediately.
"You look great," he said smoothly.
"Thanks."
"That color really suits you. Really, I mean it."
"You've said that about every color I've ever worn," she said acidly.
"They all look great on you."
"Daniel, go peddle it somewhere else, okay? I'm not in the mood."
"You're never in the mood."
"Not with you, no."
"Why not? I like you, I really do. Can't we be friends?"
"You're Brian's agent. You're not my friend."
His smug look faltered a little, but was seamlessly repaired as
Kessler came up. Daniel looked at his client coolly.
"All set?"
Brian looked at Daniel. "No one is coming."
"Nonsense. I invited at least fifty people. If only half of them
show, we'll be a complete success," he said with hearty insincerity.
Brian frowned. "I thought we were only inviting a dozen."
Daniel waved his hands. "Oh, just a few extras, you know. People in
the business I owe a favor to."
"This is all coming out of my advance, Daniel. I'd appreciate it
if--"
"Ah, here we are!" Daniel escaped to the front door, where a tall,
dark-haired man was escorting an equally tall, striking looking woman in
the front door.
"Are we too early?"
"Not at all, not at all," said Daniel unctuously. "Let me take your
coats. So glad you could make it."
"Oh, thank you," said the woman in a surprisingly deep voice. Her
wrap came off wide shoulders to reveal a brilliant red ensemble in silk,
exquisitely tailored and somehow subtly wrong. Skinny legs, noted Daniel
as he took her wrap. He noted with a practiced eye the expensive red
shoes, the carefully arranged hair, the professional makeup job. Unusual
woman, he thought to himself. He turned to the man.
"Welcome to our opening. Brian and Carrie are in the salon."
The tall man looked past him. "Salon?"
"Over here," called Brian, advancing with his hand out. "Coop, I'm
glad you could come. Dennis, how do you do?"
"Coop?" said Daniel.
Kessler turned to his agent. "Daniel, I'd like you to meet Agent
Dale Cooper of the FBI and Agent Dennis--"
"Denise, if you don't mind," said the tall woman.
"Sorry. Denise Brysson of the DEA. Dale and Denise were involved in
the Grayce investigation."
"Until you terminated it." Cooper smiled, shaking hands with
Kessler. "He led us quite a chase, didn't he?"
"Daniel is my agent," explained Kessler. "He helped land the book
deal, and we're negotiating for movie rights."
Denise leaned over and kissed the air next to Kessler's cheek;
Kessler pulled back quickly. "Hello, Brian. Nice to see you again. What
happened to the earrings?"
Daniel was still staring at the tall figure in red before him.
"Dennis?"
"I prefer Denise," she said, handing him a perfectly manicured hand.
"Pleased to meet you."
Daniel took her hand automatically, then dropped it abruptly.
"You're with the DEA? They have women agents?"
"More or less," the tall brunette replied easily. "I was tracking
Early Grayce. We still think he was involved with a Louisville drug ring
we busted right before he took off for California. In a very small way,
of course."
"I never thought he was that smart," Kessler said. He turned to
Cooper. "Those pictures you guys wrangled out of the Bureau for me really
added a lot to the book. Especially the crime scene photos, Dennis--"
"Denise."
"--My publisher would never have been able to get those released if
it weren't for your help."
"How did they turn out?"
"Carrie loved them. Did you ever meet Carrie? Come on over and see
the pictures she took for the book."
Kessler led them away, still talking, as the door opened to admit
three more people.
"I told you we were too early," said the blonde woman in the bomber
jacket. "We should have come at least an hour later."
Her silent companion was tall and dark haired, with sleepy hazel eyes
and a cap worn backward on his head. He bent slightly as he came through
the door, as if from long habit.
"Hi, I'm Daniel--"
"Where are the photographs?" the blonde demanded imperiously.
"They're in the salon. May I take--"
"Salon?" She and her silent companion both looked past him.
"Right through there. Bri--"
"Thanks. Come on, Rollie."
The blonde swept past him without another glance. The tall man
shrugged and followed her. He hadn't said a word.
"But are you--" Daniel began to follow them.
"Excuse me?" asked a mellow voice.
Daniel turned. "Yes?"
"Uh, is this the Brian Kessler party?"
"Yes, it is. Do you have an invitation?"
"Uh, no. But I was hoping I could maybe get an autograph. I read
the reviews and I thought...well..."
He was very young, but looked quite familiar to Daniel. Maybe it was
the dark eyes, the mole on the right cheek. There was a nervous, uncertain
quality about the young man that reminded the Daniel of somebody.
"Excuse me, have we met?" he said condescendingly.
"No, I don't think so. My name's Billy," the younger man said,
holding out his hand. It was soft and limp in Daniel's. "I only moved
here from New York a couple of weeks ago."
"Are you--in the publishing business?" Daniel hazarded.
The younger man shrugged. "I've been published, just a couple of
poems, but that's not why I came out to the Coast. You see, my
girlfriend--that is, she used to be my---"
Daniel was immediately bored.
"Brian's right through there, in the salon."
"Salon? I don't see--"
"Please feel free to introduce yourself. Er, you're over eighteen, I
take it?"
"Yes."
"Then help yourself to the beer."
The door swung open to admit two upright, professional figures in
raincoats. Daniel was beginning to recognize the look.
"Hi. Brian here?"
"He's in the salon."
The red-haired woman looked past him. "Salon?"
"May I take your coat?"
"No, thanks. Mulder, may I have your keys? I want to lock my
briefcase in the trunk of the car."
"Sure, I'll--"
"You're Agent Mulder?"
"Yes. Fox Mulder." The dark eyes were suddenly wary. "I don't
believe we've met, though you look familiar."
"I feel like I know you already," Daniel said, suddenly feeling that
the trite phrase held more truth than usually. "I'm Daniel, Brian's agent.
So glad you could make it. Brian's told me so much--"
"Excuse me. I think I know that guy. Coop!"
Dale Cooper turned quickly. "Mulder! I didn't know you were
coming!"
The two men shook, smiling at one another.
"Scully and I had to testify in a kidnapping trial, so we decided to
combine business and business."
"Agent Scully? Is she here?"
"Right here," said the flame haired agent, coming up behind Mulder.
She looked up at Dale Cooper with bright hazel eyes.
Cooper had opened his mouth to speak, but stood frozen.
Fox Mulder smiled to himself. He was used to that reaction. "Dana,
this is Dale Cooper. He and I were working on the Early Grayce
investigation together. Dale, this is my partner, Dr. Dana Scully."
Dale took her small hand in his gently. "I've heard about you.
Dianne talks about you all the time."
"Dianne? Is she your wife?"
"No, she's--"
"Don't forget about me," said the tall woman at Cooper's side. "I
want to meet Mulder's partner, too." She embraced Mulder and kissed him
on the cheek. "Hello again, Mulder."
"Brysson." Mulder eyed the tall woman circumspectly. "Red is not
your color."
"Bitch." She smiled to take the edge from her words, a brilliant
smile that warmed her face. Dana eyed the woman in red and forced a
smile.
"You must be Dianne." She looked more closely. "You look familiar.
Have we met?"
"I'm afraid I haven't had the pleasure," drawled the dark-eyed
beauty. "I'm Denise Brysson, with the DEA."
"Dana Scully. FBI."
"That blue looks very good on you."
Cooper beamed as the pair shook hands. "Dennis--I'm sorry--Denise
was working with the RCMP on a drug ring and I was working on a series of
murders up in a little town named Twin Peaks when Agent Mulder called us
in, Dana. But why weren't you two working together?"
Dana looked bewildered. She had just realized who--and what--Denise
Brysson was. "I was on another investigation. We--"
"Mulder! Good to see you!" Brian Kessler, grinning widely,
approached. Carrie followed languidly in his wake, smoking nonchalantly.
He gave Dana a long, appraising look. "Hell-o! This must be Dana Scully?
Mulder's told us so much about you."
"Really? Excuse me, have I met you before?"
"No, I don't think so."
"Maybe you saw the photo on the book jacket, Dana," suggested Cooper.
"But I haven't--"
"Hello, Fox," said Carrie, kissing him on the cheek. He now had
lipstick on each cheek, in different shades of red. Dana thought it gave
him an uncommonly rakish air.
"Mulder," he corrected Carrie firmly, reaching for his handkerchief.
"If you don't mind."
Carrie smiled widely. "But Fox is such a cute name. It suits you so
perfectly."
Dana winced, knowing how Mulder hated his first name. Carrie moved
closer to him and put a hand through his arm. "I made sure there were some
sunflower seeds on the table tonight."
He looked at her in surprise. "You remembered?"
"I remember everything about you, Fox."
"Is this the photography exhibit?"
Daniel turned just as the door swung shut behind a tall man in a tan
raincoat. What was it with raincoats? he thought irritably. It hadn't
rained in Los Angeles in months. Maybe it was a new trend he didn't know
about. He'd have to check it out.
"This is Brian Kessler's book release party."
"Book?" The man looked hauntingly familiar to Daniel. There was a
hint of sadness in the eyes, the set of the long, mobile mouth. He
stooped as though carrying a burden he'd borne for a long time. "What
book?"
Daniel sighed. "It's called 'Days of Grayce'. It's about a serial
killer named Early Grayce and how he kidnapped Brian and Carrie."
The man looked down at the newspaper clipping in his hand. "Oh.
Yes. I'm sorry. I saw the review and it mentioned her photographs. I
didn't mean to..."
"That's all right," Daniel said hurriedly, seeing more people
approaching the door. It looked as though he was going to be a doorman
all night. "Go right on in to the salon."
The man looked past him into the now crowded room. "Salon? But
that's just a--"
But Daniel had turned away.
"Mulder? Can I ask you something? In private?" Scully's quiet voice
sounded very uncertain.
"Sure, Scully." He drew her away from Carrie and Kessler, turning his
back to shield them from the rest of the room. Denise's eyes followed
Mulder. "What's up?"
"Agent Brysson. Is she....I mean, she looks so..."
"Dennis used to dress like me," Mulder said, deadpan. "Then he
discovered his true nature and started to dress a whole lot better."
"But, I mean...an agent..." she floundered. "I don't want to sound
old-fashioned, but..."
"He just got in touch with his feminine side. Don't worry about it.
He--or she--won't bother you."
Dana looked at him shrewdly. "I don't think I can say the same about
Carrie Laughlin. She likes you."
Mulder raised one eyebrow. "You think so? Wow. Maybe I'll get
lucky tonight!"
"Mulder, I never know when you're kidding."
"That makes two of us. Let's get a beer."
The man in the tan raincoat drifted uncertainly, as though lost.
Couples stood chatting around the table holding an array of canaps,
clustered around the ice chest holding beer. One or two strolled along
looking at the photographs. Indecisively, he hovered near the book table
with its glossy dust jacket. In stark black and white, the cover showed a
face with eyes straight out of hell and a mouth as cruel as it was stupid.
"Days of Grayce: The Bitter End of an American Killer" read the dark red
title, in letters the color of dried blood. Idly, the man picked it up
and turned the pages. The prose was dense but flowing, descriptive yet
spare. Almost unwillingly, he found himself caught up in the story.
"You like it?" a voice said at his elbow.
He looked up, startled. "Oh. Yes." He flipped the book over,
glanced at the photograph. "You must be Brian--"
"Kessler. Pleased to meet you. Would you like me to sign it?"
He hadn't really come in for the book, but he could see the eagerness
in Kessler's face. And after all, it wasn't a bad book. "I'd be
honored," he said, holding the book out.
"Who should I sign it to?" Kessler said, taking a fountain pen out of
his breast pocket.
"Jake."
Kessler looked at him expectantly.
The other man flushed slightly. "Just...Jake. If you don't mind."
"For a man who hates mysteries, he generates quite a few of his own,"
said a voice behind him.
Jake froze and then turned slowly.
"Kate," he said, his voice suddenly cracked and thin.
"Hello, Jake. It's been a long time."
Kessler finished signing the title page and handed the book to Jake.
"You know each other?"
"We do." Kate Lyons smiled a small smile. "Very well indeed."
Behind her, Rollie's eyes narrowed as he looked Jake up and down with
a calculating stare.
"I didn't know you were a crime fan," said Kate. There was a
challenge in the way she said it, as though she were really saying
something else, something that expected an argument.
But Jake merely shrugged and turned away. "I just came to look at
the pictures," he said, and then looked stricken as he realized what he
had said. He turned to Kessler. "Oh, hey, I didn't mean--"
Kessler smiled. "It's okay. I think she does pretty good work,
myself. Carrie would--now where did she go?" He looked around. "Would
you like to meet her?"
Not really, Jake thought. His deepest wish right now was to go away
as fast as possible, but he wouldn't give Kate the satisfaction of seeing
him run.
"You're cultivating a taste for photography, Jake?" she said coolly.
"I had no idea."
He almost snarled at her. "You cultivating a taste for murder?"
"Rollie here wanted to see the photographs." She gestured to her
companion as if to call a dog. He came forward and Kate made the
introductions. "This is Rollie Flecks. He works for United Artists. He's
a cinematographer."
Jake shook his hand warily. "I'm Jake--"
"Here we are," interrupted Kessler. This time he had Carrie firmly
by one arm, pulling her along through the crowd. "Carrie, this is Jake.
He came here to see your pictures."
The cool black eyes assessed him distantly. "I'm flattered."
"I haven't really had much of a chance to look at them," he said. He
couldn't take his eyes from her face. Those cheekbones, those eyes. She
wasn't his type, but she was a hell of a type, Jake thought. He almost
forgot about the blonde bitch who had been baiting him.
"I'm Kate Lyons," the blonde said, edging forward. "I'm a
photographer. I like your work."
"Me, too," said Rollie. Everyone looked at him. It was the first
time he had spoken since he arrived.
"Thanks. You're a photographer?"
He nodded taciturnly. "Cinematographer. Movies. Never saw a real
murder before. Just a lot of fake ones."
"You work in the movies?" Brian said, and they could all hear the
excitement in his voice. "Which ones? Who do you work with?"
"Oops. I'm sorry. Gosh, it's so crowded in here it's hard to move.
Oh, I spilled on your dress. Here, let me--"
"It's quite all right. Please don't bother. Oh."
"I feel awful about this. Such a striking shade of red. Mayonnaise
doesn't do much for it, I'm afraid."
"Really, don't worry about it. My name is Denise."
"Hi. I'm Billy. I was looking for my girlfriend."
"Oh. Too bad."
"Excuse me?"
"Nothing. Did you know your tie is in your drink?"
"You look tired." Mulder looked down at his partner, slumping next
to him.
"I've had a long day." Spotting some chairs behind a table, Dana
pulled one against the wall and sat down. "Go mingle, Mulder. I'll wait
here."
"No, we can go--"
She shook her head. "Mulder, this is the first time I've been off my
feet in hours. I couldn't move if I wanted. Go talk to Carrie."
He smiled. "I'd rather talk to Eugene Tooms. You want a beer?"
"No, thanks. Go mingle, you party animal," she said dryly.
She leaned back and watched him move sinuously through the crowd.
She was trying to think of the last time she had seen him in any kind of
social situation, when a voice beside her interrupted.
"Dana? Would you like a cup of coffee?"
Dale Cooper stood with two foam cups, looking unsure of himself.
She reached for one gratefully. "Oh, thanks. Trust a cop to know
what another cop really needs."
He smiled, and a dimple appeared in one cheek. "They make a really
great cup of coffee at the sheriff's station I've been working out of.
May I sit?"
She nodded and he slid into the chair next to her, leaning forward,
his face earnest.
"I've been meaning to talk to Mulder, but now that you're here, I'd
rather talk to you. I'm sorry to talk shop, but my case up in Washington
is one that I think you two would be interested in. Superficially, it
appears to be an isolated murder, but I think it's part of a pattern."
"A serial killer?"
The agent nodded, sipping his coffee. "But...strange. I think it
would fit right in with your work."
As always, Dana felt slightly uneasy discussing the X- files around
other Bureau agents. Defensively, she spoke more sharply than she
intended.
"We don't do little green men."
"How did you get that one with the cactus?" Rollie asked Carrie.
"It looks like a dawn shot."
"It was sunset," she answered. "I used an f/6 stop at 1200 ASA."
"Minolta?"
"Leica 2000."
The cameraman nodded thoughtfully. "No parasol."
The corner of her mouth turned up, a tiny smile. "No. Not in the
circumstances. I wasn't aiming for effect. I was recording a crime."
"Some of these aren't yours," he added.
She cocked an eyebrow at him. "You have a very good eye. No, some
of them were taken by Early himself. I printed them in black and white
along with the rest. The color was too garish."
Rollie nodded understandingly. "Yeah. You want a theme, not a
documentary here."
"Exactly. An eye for design, too, I see."
"Have you ever exhibited before?"
"I had a show at a little gallery in Venice six months ago. I'm
trying to line something up at Zenith for next year."
"Your work isn't terribly commercial," he said dispassionately.
Carrie bristled. "I don't want to be commer--"
"I like that," he interrupted. "You have a good style. Don't ruin it
like the mercenary crap they do at Zenith."
Her eyes widened in surprise. Behind her, Kessler took on a pained
expression. "You think so?"
Unperturbed, he nodded again, then cocked his head and looked at her.
He appeared to be looking past her or through her, anywhere but at her.
Abruptly, he asked, "I'm working on a portfolio of my own. You have
fabulous bones. Would you sit for me?"
Carrie smiled, showing white teeth and snapping black eyes. "Maybe.
Let's talk about it."
She took his arm and moved away, leaving Kate and Brian and Jake as
though they didn't exist.
Jake looked from Rollie to Kate and back, and for the first time the
grim set of his mouth relaxed. He didn't exactly smile, but he didn't
look sad, either. He nodded sympathetically at Kessler, tucked his new
book under one arm and strolled away to the other end of the gallery.
In the awkward silence that followed, Brian looked at the books on
the table (only one less than they had started the evening with) avoiding
the blonde woman's eyes. He cleared his throat. "Would you like a beer,
ah, Kate?"
She drew a deep breath. "Sure," she said. "What do you have?"
"Lowenbrau," he said with a smile. "Lion's brew for the social
lion." His voice sounded a little sad, and he glanced after Carrie and
Rollie, now engaged in an animated discussion in front of a particularly
gruesome photograph.
"I'd love one," she said, and took his arm.
continued next file...
--
Kellie Matthews-Simmons//matthewk@ucsu.colorado.edu
Member: SFLA&EBS, PSEB, DDEB, X-phile "Ego veno eos in vulcos minos."
"Sometimes the need to mess with their heads outweighs the millstone of
humiliation." --Fox Mulder, X-Files "Squeeze"
From: matthewk@ucsu.Colorado.EDU (MATTHEWS-SIMMONS KELLIE)
Date: Fri, 5 Aug 1994 19:20:44 GMT
Days of Grayce, part 2
"Oh, hi. Are we too late?"
Daniel closed the door wearily. It was getting late and all the
h'ors d'oeuvres were gone. He hadn't gotten a bite, what with acting as
host and fielding gate crashers.
"Not if you have an invitation."
The tall man in the blue suit, no tie, and dark glasses pulled a
wadded square from an inside pocket of his jacket. "Here. I brought a
friend. I hope that's all right."
Daniel waved a hand. There wasn't enough food and drink left in this
party anyway, they may as well have it. "Go on in to the salon. Hey, wait
a minute! You're the guy on that show! I--"
But the tall man swept past him into the back room.
The room was packed and hot now, with the dull hum of a party winding
down. Cigarette smoke drifted in lazy clouds overhead, and the lights
looked too bright. The tall man in the sunglasses turned to his
companion, a curvaceous creature with striking eyes.
"You want a drink?"
"No. Let's just talk to Kessler and go."
He shrugged. "Okay. I have to catch an early flight to Vancouver
anyway."
"Do you like the b--oh, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to
startle you."
"It's okay, no harm done."
"You've been standing here in this corner all night. I saw you
reading it and wondered what you thought."
"I...it's very interesting."
"Which part do you like the best?"
"The part where you killed him."
"Oh."
"Sorry, I didn't mean it to sound so blunt."
"It's okay. I've come to terms with it."
"How?"
"How what?"
"How have you come to terms with it?" The young, long- haired man
stared at Brian with a sudden, almost frightening intensity, as though the
question held immeasurable significance.
Brian was a little taken aback. "Well.. I'm not sure I want to get
into a discussion--"
"I'm sorry. I shouldn't have asked."
"Wait," Brian said as the young man was turning away. Something in
those shadowed eyes spoke to him. "It's...it's all right. I was just a
little taken aback. It's kind of a personal subject to be discussing with
a stranger."
"I know. But it's...important to me. I...haven't met anyone else
who killed a man."
"Anyone else?"
"So you think this...this 'Bob' or whatever is committing the murders
by possessing people?"
"Yes, Dana, I do. And I'm not the only one. For a while, I
suspected that...well, never mind what I suspected. There have been some
very strange developments in this case, developments that I think you and
Mulder would be very interested in."
"You seem to know Mulder pretty well," Dana said cautiously. "I
don't remember he ever spoke of you."
"We met during an investigation several years ago. My partner and I
were guarding a Federal witness who was murdered. When I was injured and
Windham Earl lost his mind, Mulder was on the team called in to
investigate the case. I owe him a great deal."
"There seem to be a lot of people who owe Mulder."
"You don't look like you're enjoying this."
Jake turned and found himself looking into hazel eyes framed by long
lashes. Her gaze was deep, intense.
"I'm not, really. These are pretty appalling."
She smiled. "Carrie wouldn't like to hear you say that."
"Frankly, it's a little hard to believe a woman took these."
"Well, she's not much of a woman."
"You don't look like the catty type."
"Appearances can be deceiving. If you don't like the photographs,
why are you here?"
"I've been to every photo exhibit opening in Los Angeles in the last
seven months."
"You must really be a connoisseur."
"Not really. I'm...looking for a particular photograph. I ran
across it once and I'm trying to find it again."
"A woman's photograph?"
"How did you know?"
"Female intuition. Someone you know?"
"I'd like to know her."
"A singularly obsessed man. Would you like to talk about it?"
Jake looked into her eyes and felt a slight shiver go down his spine.
There was something about this woman, something intimate and familiar.
"Not to a woman wearing red high heels," he said. "Sorry. Private
joke." He smiled a very small smile.
"Ouch. You can do better than that," she said, smiling. Her mouth
was wide and warm and friendly.
"Sorry. I've--been going through a transition. I don't have much
practice smiling these days."
"Come sit down and talk. I'm a good listener. My name's Denise
Brysson, by the way."
"I'm Jake. Are you alone?"
"Aren't we all?"
Across the crowd, Rollie caught sight of the tall man in the blue
suit with the sunglasses and did a double take. He turned to Carrie and
leaned to whisper in her ear.
"I thought I was tough enough to take it," the long haired man was
saying to Brian intensely. "I thought I would forget it, get over it,
whatever. But the more time goes on the worse it gets. It's like a wound
that won't heal. I can...I can almost understand Early Grayce--he must
have been so tormented."
Brian thought, for the first time that night, of the man whose life
he had profiled. Whose life he had ended.
"Early Grayce wasn't tormented," he said quietly. "He had no
conscience, no remorse whatsoever. He was like a shark, except sharks
kill for a reason. He killed because he was mean." He took a long sip of
his beer. "Are you mean?"
"I don't think so," the younger man said. Kessler noticed that his
hair, though long, was graying prematurely. "But I don't know my limits
yet. You think you know them, and then..." He trailed off helplessly.
"I don't know what you expect to learn from my book," Brian said
gently. "I killed Early Grayce because he would have killed me. You said
someone paid you to kill a man. I don't know that they're all that
related."
The younger man looked away, flushing. "I guess not. But the way you
feel, afterward...how different could it be? Didn't you
feel....different?"
Brian looked thoughtful. "Yes. But like I said in the book, when I
pulled that trigger, I didn't feel a thing. Nothing. He died and I lived.
It was very, very simple."
The man turned Brian's book over and over in his hands. "It's easy to
kill a man," he said quietly. "But it's never simple."
Brian looked around. "I wouldn't talk too loudly about it, if I were
you," he said. "There are three FBI agents in the room right now."
The young man's eyes shot to Brian's face. "I don't care. I don't.
If it would mean an end to this...nothingness."
Brian felt a deep twinge of sympathy. He recognized a tortured soul.
What could he do for this young man so blighted, so damaged? He took the
book from the man's hands and opened it to the title page.
"What's your name?"
The man hesitated, and Brian smiled reassuringly. "Just your first
name."
"Randy."
"Okay. 'To Randy, to fill the void, all my best, Brian'," he recited
as he wrote. "And here's my phone number. Call me if you need to talk.
Don't worry," he said quickly as Randy glanced at Cooper and Mulder across
the room. "I won't say anything."
"You won't...turn me in?"
"No. You'll turn yourself in, I think. Or find absolution
somewhere," Brian said thoughtfully. "Not from me. But I'll help you
look, all right?"
Randy accepted the book and ran his hand over the garish dust jacket.
He looked at Brian out of unfathomable eyes. "You know, it's a strange
thing. You say we have nothing in common, but when I saw your picture on
this book...I felt like I knew you already."
There were several books left on the table. The tall man paid for
one and looked out across the room, searching for Kessler, glancing at the
book jacket now and then to confirm the portrait.
"Looking for someone?"
He turned and found Fox Mulder smiling at him. Their eyes were at a
dead level. "Yeah. I'm looking for the author."
"He's over there with the long-haired guy."
The tall man looked, then frowned. "His back is to us. Yet you saw
him."
Mulder smiled again. "I'm good at finding people. Come to think of
it, I think I know you."
The other man stepped back. "I'm an actor. You may have seen my
show."
Mulder's eyes crinkled at the corners. "Oh, yeah. I know who you
are now."
"Mind keeping it to yourself?"
"I'm even better at keeping secrets than I am at finding people."
"Thanks."
Mulder watched the tall man move away.
"Hi," purred a voice at his elbow. "What's your name?"
He looked down at a brassy blonde wearing a bomber jacket. "Mulder.
What's yours?"
"Kate Lyons. I'm a photographer. You a friend of Brian's?"
"Sort of. I helped him with his book. You?"
She tilted her head and looked up at him sideways, kittenish. "I'm a
photographer. I came to see the photographs."
"Then you must be a friend of Carrie's."
"Wrong again. Do you always eat sunflower seeds without shelling
them first?"
"Yes. Want some?"
"No, thanks. Why don't you shell them?"
"They add fiber to my diet. Can I buy you a beer?"
"Wine. I've been watching you. You look a lot like someone I know."
"I have one of the twelve standard faces. Who do I look like to
you?"
"For blood we usually use a combination of Karo syrup and grape
juice. It gives the right consistency, but the color balance is a pain.
You usually have to filter it all to hell in the close-ups, and every
single makeup artist in Hollywood has his or her own personal, secret
recipe for it. So if you get more than one makeup artist on a shoot doing
blood, you're likely to have oh, six or seven shades of the damn stuff."
"Why not get just one makeup artist for one shoot, and another for
another shoot?"
"That's not the way it works. It's all unions, you know, Cassie--"
"Carrie."
"Oh, yeah. Like the Stephen King book."
"No. Like in 'pick up and take away'."
There was a brief pause.
"Would you like to get out of here?"
"Oh, really, Mulder. I go away for five minutes to fix my face and
already you're chatting up the prettiest girl at the ball."
Denise sauntered up, swaying elegantly in the red dress. Kate glared
at her.
"Jealous, Brysson?" Mulder said sardonically, glancing at Kate.
Denise cocked one eyebrow and tilted her head, appraising the blonde
with a slow glance up and down. "Oh, I don't know. Who am I supposed to
be jealous of?"
Kate smiled a tight smile. "If this is your taste, Mr. Mulder, I'll
leave you to...it."
"Oooh, this one has claws," drawled Denise.
"Freak," hissed Kate. She glared at Mulder again. "I don't get it.
You don't look like the type."
Mulder rolled his eyes. "You never know, sweetie."
Spotting Kessler across the room, Kate stormed off.
Mulder took a swig of his beer. "Thanks. She was annoying."
"Pretty obvious, all right," Denise said. "Too bad. I liked her. I
swear I know her. I wonder if we ever dated."
"I thought you liked them a little taller," said Mulder.
"How would you know?" Denise purred, picking up a handful of
sunflower seeds. "Are you still eating these things?"
"I'm thinking of joining a twelve-step program."
"Oops. Whoa, careful there."
"Sorry. I'm just upset." Kate dabbed ineffectually at the spreading
coffee stain on the tablecloth. "A guy just gave me the brushoff."
"Thereby proving himself an utter fool," said Dale Cooper gallantly.
He held out a packet of sugar. "Sugar?"
"No, thanks. I drink it black," she answered. As she looked up, her
eyes widened. "Oh. Do I know you?"
Cooper looked at her solemnly. "I don't believe so. Were you ever in
a town called Twin Peaks?"
"No. Sounds like a dump."
"Oh, it has its charms. Fantastic trees."
Kate shrugged and picked up her coffee. "Sorry. Wrong number." She
walked away.
"Hello."
Brian whirled and came face to face with the tall man in sunglasses.
Then he caught sight of the woman on his arm and forgot to breathe for a
moment. With an effort, he dragged his eyes back to the man's face.
"Hi. I'm sorry, I know the face but not the name," Brian said.
"Aren't you--"
"I just wanted to tell you how much I enjoyed your book." The tall
man leaned closer, almost cheek to cheek. "I'd just as soon everyone here
didn't know who I am. If you don't mind."
Brian Kessler's eyes went wide. "Of course. I didn't recognize you
at first. Wow. You liked my book?"
"Yes. I was wondering if you've sold the movie rights yet. I know a
producer who might be interested."
Brian smiled broadly. "Really? Well, you'll have to talk to my
agent. That's him right over--now where did he go? He was at the door
just a minute ago."
"The doorman is your agent?"
Brian flushed a little. "Well, just say my agent is the doorman
tonight. I'll find him and you can talk."
The tall man shook his head. He disengaged the woman's hand from his
arm and reached into his breast pocket. "I'm not the one to talk to.
Here. Have him call this number. Give them my name. They'll talk to
you."
"Thanks. Can I get you a drink?"
"No, we have to be going." The tall man's hand had somehow strayed
from the woman's back to her hip, where it appeared very content. Brian
was carefully not looking at her.
"May I give you a copy of the book?"
The tall man shrugged. "Sure. An autographed copy?"
Brian grinned. "I'll autograph yours if you'll autograph mine."
Dana rubbed her face with both hands. She was so tired.
"Look, would you like to get out of here, maybe go get some coffee
and pie somewhere? You don't look like you're enjoying this." Dale
Cooper's voice was warm, understanding.
She looked at him gratefully. "Oh, I'd love to. But I can't just
abandon Mulder like that."
Dale smiled. "I wouldn't worry about Mulder. Between Denise and
Carrie, I'm sure he'll get a ride home tonight."
Dale looked startled. "Mulder?"
Cooper raised an eyebrow. "You don't know him half as well as you
think."
"But...Denise?"
Dale laughed, showing white teeth. "Oh, that. Don't take it
seriously. They're just friends, they kid around a lot. Brysson and
Mulder go way back, clear to the Academy. They were roommates, I think.
And Dennis likes girls, he just likes to mess with people's heads."
Dana took a deep breath. She felt immensely relieved.
"What about Carrie Laughlin?"
Dale eyed her curiously. "Why do you care?"
Dana blushed. "I don't know much about Mulder."
"Apparently not. Mulder can swim with sharks like Carrie, but he
doesn't take them to bed. At least not the Mulder I know."
"Which Mulder is that?" asked Mulder, coming up to them.
"The one who stays way too late at parties," Cooper said, standing.
"I was offering to take Dana back to her hotel. She's pretty tired."
Mulder looked from his partner to his friend, taking in their close
stance, Cooper's hand on Dana's shoulder--but said nothing.
He looked down at her, his expression unreadable. "I still have the
car keys. Do you want your briefcase?"
"No. You can give it back to me in the morning." Realizing too late
that this implied something other than she intended, she blushed
furiously. But she could think of nothing to say that wouldn't make it
worse.
"Tell Denise I'll pick her up tomorrow morning," Dale Cooper said.
"Remind her we have a ten o'clock meeting with the pathologist's office."
"I'll do that. Goodnight, Scully."
"Goodnight, Mulder."
They left, and their exit started a general exodus. Suddenly there
was a flurry of shifting, of people looking around for abandoned coats,
looking at watches. Mulder stood and watched quietly, eating sunflower
seeds. The tall actor with the stunning date was the next to leave,
followed by several people carrying Kessler's book. He watched the man
called Jake kiss Denise's hand and depart. Rollie and Carrie, avoiding
Brian Kessler, slipped out while Daniel wasn't looking. A long haired
young man shook Brian's hand and walked out, a spring in his step. A very
young man talking to Denise shook his head reluctantly; then he turned and
left. The tall femme fatale smiled after him and turned to look around
the room. Catching sight of Mulder, the smile widened and she glided
across the rapidly emptying room.
"All alone at the ball?" she asked lightly, sliding an arm through
Mulder's. "Cinderella went home with the prince?"
"Actually, I think she's going home with Brian." Mulder nodded
towards Kessler, who was attempting to detach himself from Kate Lyons.
The woman was urging him towards the door, where a weary Daniel stood
holding the keys and jingling them.
"Time to go," Denise said.
Mulder sighed. "I guess. How did you come to be stuck with me,
instead of your usual dazzling creature?"
They pushed through the door into the cool reek of the Los Angeles
night. Behind him Daniel locked the door.
Denise shrugged. "Brian caught the only blonde who interested me."
"Blondes? I thought you went for brunettes?"
"Only some brunettes." Denise slanted a look at him out of expressive
eyes. "And the occasional redhead."
Mulder stopped dead, looking levelly at Denise. "Dana?"
The transvestite shrugged. "Sure. She's gorgeous, or hadn't you
noticed?"
"She's not your type," Mulder said, tension in his voice. He started
walking more quickly, heading for a taxi stand.
"Oh. You mean she's your type?"
Mulder shot his friend a smoldering look. "I mean you might find
yourself out of your league entirely with her."
The woman shrugged elegantly. "Oh, well. I've got an early morning,
anyway. But I envy you, Mulder."
Mulder sighed. "Don't. Can I drop you somewhere?"
"No, thanks. I called a taxi. I think I know where Kate and Brian
are going. I'm not done yet with that woman."
Mulder grinned. "She'll be quite a challenge. No woman likes a man
who looks better in pantyhose than she does. Here's your taxi." He stuck
out a hand. "Good to see you again, Dennis. Stay out of trouble."
Denise threw back her head and laughed. "Fox Mulder tells me to stay
out of trouble! Oh, that's good!"
Mulder watched as the taxi drove off, taillights fading in the night.
He pulled the lapels of his raincoat tighter and walked off up the
street toward his car.
THE END
--
Kellie Matthews-Simmons//matthewk@ucsu.colorado.edu
Member: SFLA&EBS, PSEB, DDEB, X-phile "Ego veno eos in vulcos minos."
"Sometimes the need to mess with their heads outweighs the millstone of
humiliation." --Fox Mulder, X-Files "Squeeze"
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