The Opposite Side of the Moon,
By Jaime Lyn
"Damn it," Scully muttered, cursing her own shot nerves. She knew that she needed food and sleep and she needed them sometime damned soon.
Pressing the talk button with her free hand, she said, "Mulder," without pretense. Then, "I've found something over at the theatre that I want to get tested. It's---"
The voice that interrupted her speech was so very not Mulder that it threw her off balance. Her brow furrowed. It was very rare that people other than her partner called her cell phone. "Yes, hello?" she said, confused. "Who's this?"
"Dana?" the voice said again. "Dana, it's Marcus. You told me to call you about our date tonight---remember? Am I picking you up?"
Scully's mouth opened slightly and then she sagged against the wall outside the door, remembering. Great, she thought. This is just wonderful. What am I supposed to tell him? What am I---
Why don't you go call that guy, Scully--what's his name? Mark? Marty.....
She thought of Mulder and her blood began to boil.
Well I'd sew 'property of Fox Mulder' into your underwear if I could, but I don't think....
She thought about his behavior earlier, his assinine comments to her, the way he had pissed her off and questioned her and---
She shoved the bags of evidence into her pocket quickly, her adrenaline pumping through her veins hot and fast. "Yes, pick me up," she said, without even realizing that she had said it. "I'm ready right now. It's almost six, isn't it?"
On the other end, she could hear Marcus take a deep breath. He sounded surprised. "Well... yes, actually. Do you want to eat now?"
I'm not the one running away, Scully....
not the one running away....
Scully squeezed her eyes shut. Go away, she thought. Get out of my head, Mulder.
"Yes," she said, perhaps a little too quickly. "Yes, I want to go now."
I really want to go now....
"Okay," Marcus said. "Just give me about fifteen minutes to get over there. Say, you like Italian? There's a place--Martini's, if you want...Goodness, Dana, I haven't talked to you in forever. I can't wait for us to talk again."
Scully closed her eyes and stared down at her hands. She'd put the evidence in her pocket, right? Yes, yes she had. She remembered doing it. She shook her head at herself. God, I'm tired, she thought. I just need sleep. Yes, sleep. Just as soon as dinner is over and I go to the lab....
Shit, the lab! Scully shook her head again.
I'll take the bag to the NYPD lab after dinner, yeah, after dinner. What can happen till then? She sighed and sucked back a tear threatening to water her eyes. "Martini's sounds great. I can't wait either," she said, her voice sounding soft and broken.
First, Mulder threw a balled up wad of paper at the trash can and missed.
"Three point shot, deeeee-flected!" he said, raising his fists in the air.
But when there was no answer to his playful jibe, Mulder's body sagged against the back of his chair. He looked around the empty room in dismay and sighed. Damn it, he thought. Trashcan basketball was just no fun without Scully around to say, 'get back to work Spooky Rodman.'
I have a date, she'd said. Don't wait up.
Mulder started to grind his teeth. Damn it, Scully, get out of my head, he thought. His fists balled up on the table, squeezing and un-squeezing slowly, but it did nothing to help ease his anger. He was still pissed off, still jealous as hell, and still getting nowhere with this damned case.
This damned case....
Why, Mulder wondered, can't psychotic killers and parapsychological entities just make my life easier and fucking call me with 'I did it?' Or at least 'I know who did it.' He stared at the ceiling. No, he thought, glancing back down at the file in front of him. Life was just never that easy. At least, life was never that easy for HIM. Mulder threw another balled up wad of paper; missed again.
"Two point shot, De---"
Mulder's cell phone interrupted the game by shrilling loudly. He furrowed a brow and paused for a moment, his brain processing this new sound slowly and distractedly. It could be Scully, he thought. Could be Scully with a new lead on his "planted hallucinogen" theory. Maybe she had a suspect. Maybe she had a coinciding theory of her own. Another wad of paper flew past the garbage pail to hit the floor; the cell phone shrilled again. Not likely, he thought. Not likely at all. Probably, she's just calling me from her hot so-called date, waiting for the opportunity to snap my goddamned heart in two. Maybe he's planning to fuck her brains out and----
Mulder's mind, he knew, really should be more focused on the topic at hand.
Don't wait up, she'd said... don't wait up... don't wait up.....
"I'll break every bone in that man's body if he touches her," Mulder said out loud, taking out his phone and jabbing the talk button. Into the reciever he said, "hot date going well, Scully?"
There was at first, a pause. Then he waited for his partner's angry, bitter response, (because he knew there would eventually be one) but there was nothing.
"Scully?" he asked. "You there?"
The voice that responded was not one he recognized.
"Agent Mulder?" it said.
Mulder frowned. "Yeah, this is Agent Mulder," he said. "Who's this?"
There was another pause. Mulder's back straightened. Nerves on the back of his neck began to prick at him for reasons unknown. This is important, his brain warned. Listen, this is important.
"This is Sarah--Sarah Jamison, from the Performers. I'm sorry to bother you, Agent Mulder."
Mulder's eyes widened. Oh God, he thought, Sarah Jamison. That was that girl who---Oh, this IS important. Mulder's psychological skills began to kick into over-drive then, his FBI training taking over. Into the phone, he kept his voice calm, rational. "Yes, I remember you Sarah," he said, slowly. On the inside, his intuition screamed at him: she knows something! she knows something.....
"I need to talk to you," Sarah said quickly, her breathing echoing over the line in clear, erratic puffs. "I need to meet with you, right away. Tonight if possible"
Suddenly, all thoughts of Dana Scully rushed from Mulder's head as he began to focus once more. His adrenaline raced and his heart began to thud eagerly. This was his work. This was the chase. This was what he'd come here to do. This was what he'd always loved doing. It was the hunt; the relentless search for the truth.
Mulder nodded to himself. "Not a problem," he said, softly. He made sure to keep his voice calm and reassuring. "Just name the time and place, Sarah. I'd be more than happy to---"
"Martini's," Sarah said, perhaps a little too quickly for Mulder's taste. He frowned for a moment, and then his brain suddenly flashed back to something he'd seen in one of the witness statements:
'Sarah's quiet,' one of the female extras had said. She saw the whole thing happen and I don't know how she keeps it together. She looks so sad all the time. I think she really liked Jen. She was Amanda's understudy for Jen. Third in line. Sarah was always around when they fought....
Yes, Mulder thought, slowly putting puzzle pieces together in his head. Yes, that's starting to make sense now. Sarah's afraid. She's not the one who did it, no, but she knows who is. She may have even been helping. Yes, helping---he decided--but helping against her will. Doing things she didn't want to do. Yes, that's it, he thought. Sarah's the key--somehow... But there was still something he was missing, something-----
"On the corner of 32nd," Sarah went on, her voice beginning to tremble. " You can't miss it. Martini's. Remember. Give me about twenty minutes."
"Alright, Sarah. Sounds--"
"I have to go, I'm sorry."
Mulder's mouth opened to answer her, to try and stall to keep her on the line for another minute more: "Wait, Sarah, I---" but it was no use. First there was a blast of static and then the line went dead.
"You got the stuff?" Amanda asked quickly, her tone hushed and conspiratorial. Poking around and plotting revenge, she had found, was really starting to agree with her. It gave her a rush, a fervor that she had never noticed before. She silently thanked God for the opportunity to experience it.
"What was that?" she asked, then paused. A grin broke out. Then the voice on the other end finally reassured her, promising her that the drug she needed was, indeed, on the checklist. Amanda took a deep breath. Thank god, she thought. Otherwise it all goes to hell.
"Good," Amanda said, peeking down and around the corner of the Capulet party backdrop. Down below, in the corner, by the empty orchestra pit, Dana Scully sagged against a wall, palming her cell phone and covering her mouth with her left hand. There were gloves covering both of them, but the right one hung limp at her side.
"What? Where? Oh, Martini's," Amanda said into the phone, still staring at Dana. An angry, malicious grin spread across her features. "No, I really don't care. Just do it and get it done." She tapped her finger along the wall and then played with the sparkling ruby hanging from her neck. "I'll take care of that later, I promise. You'll get what you want, you just get me what I want first."
Slowly, Dana began to walk away. Amanda watched her closely. Her head was tipped toward the ground, her shoulders sagged, her feet dragging. Just like high school, Amanda thought. She hasn't changed at all.
Into the phone, Amanda said, "Yeah, Martini's. Go. Make sure it gets done."