Title: Bare Bones (1/?)
Category: MSR, Angst, Case-file (sort of) Rating: 
PG for adult situations and general nastiness. 
Archive: Anywhere, just let me know so I can 
visit Disclaimer: Not mine. If they were I'd be 
wearing better shoes. Spoilers: Its been ended 
for years - hasn't everyone seen them all? 
Summary: From his tone, Scully knew his day had 
been harder than his earlier joking would 
suggest. Author's Note: At end. 

She was exhausted and sweating by the time she 
reached the motel. The police jeep that had 
driven her back from the morgue was old and rusty 
and of a model pre-dating air-conditioning. As 
Scully fumbled for her keys she could still feel 
the scratch of nylon seating and her skin crawled 
with the memory of fiery air buffeting her 
through the open window. The Deputy had offered 
to help with her bags, but Scully was only too 
eager to be away from the sweaty fat man. She had 
struggled across the parking-lot with her 
briefcase swinging and armfuls of slippery 
photographs, x-rays and cardboard folders. She 
barely had the energy to unlock the door and 
stumble inside. 

A cool blast of air greeted her. The curtains 
were blessedly closed against the white sun and a 
bottle of water stood dripping condensation onto 
the counter. She sighed and dropped her paperwork 
beside the bottle. Scully shucked off her jacket, 
peeling the lining away from heated skin and 
leaned back against the closed door. A voice 
called from the connecting room as she took her 
first swallow of cold water. 

"Scully? That you?"
"Uhhu." She gulped at the water, ignoring the 
sensitivity in her teeth. She tasted salt as she 
licked her lips and her eyes stung as she pressed 
them closed. Footsteps shuffled over the worn 
brown carpet. 

"Mulder, stay back." Scully raised a hand in 
warning. "I can feel your body heat and its more 
than I can bear." Her partner was silent until 
she chuffed out a single laugh to let him know 
she was joking. "Hot day for you too, huh?" As 
Mulder stepped closer she could smell the desert 
on him. He couldn't have been in long because he 
hadn't yet showered. Scully opened her eyes to 
see he still wore his blue shirt with the sleeves 
rolled back, the tie long-forgotten. He smelled 
of sun and dust and sweat. "Hot car-ride, more 
like."
"You catch a ride in the Sheriff's Jeep then?" He 
laughed when she groaned and dropped her head. 
"At least you spent the day in the nice cool 
morgue." "Yeah, what an oasis."
"Ten hours I spent in this heat, Scully. Ten 
hours." "Well I spent my day up to my elbows in 
bones." "This isn't a pissing contest, Scully." 
"Six bodies, Mulder. All mixed up."
"Well, do you know how badly sand sticks to 
sunscreen?" Mulder was pouting. They'd argued for 
ten minutes that morning about the factor twenty 
sunscreen that Mulder hadn't wanted to wear. 
"Because sunburn would have made your day more 
fun?" "I don't burn, Scully. I tan."
"Everybody burns, Mulder." He grumbled as he 
stepped away and childishly turned his back. He 
wasn't going to tell her how sore his scalp was 
after refusing to wear the baseball cap she had 
sent him off with. 

"How many more today?" Her voice was suddenly 
soft, serious. Mulder didn't turn around. "Four 
skulls but we can't be sure on a final figure. 
Not until the good Dr Stevens matches things up." 
From his tone, Scully knew his day had been 
harder than his earlier joking would suggest. He 
had insisted on spending the day at the burial 
site out alongside the busy interstate, needing 
to `get a feel' for the place. From experience, 
Scully knew that his notebook would be filled 
with notes and observations and sketches. Mulder 
was already piecing together a profile in his 
mind. She could tell from the very set of his 
shoulders. "Whad'ya got partner?" She probed him 
gently, knowing that he would only share what he 
wanted to. Instead, he would demand details about 
the body, details she still didn't have, despite 
two days spent poring over the bones with one of 
the country's top forensic anthropologists. So 
far they had made little progress beyond piecing 
the mixed body-parts back together, and still the 
body-count was rising. 

Mulder dropped to perch on the side of the bed, 
his jaw clenched and his brows furrowed. "I don't 
think this is Mafia stuff, Scully. Some of the 
guys out there would like this open and shut." 
She nodded in agreement. The burial site was too 
close to the road for the Mob. "The graves are 
shallow, but fairly wide, perhaps enough for one 
man to manage alone, certainly two." "There's a 
distinct lack of certain post-mortem artefacts I 
would expect to see, evidence in the ground, and 
on the bodies from decomposition..." "No signs of 
predation at the scene..." The evidence was 
drawing them to a mutual conclusion. "Two of the 
bodies have been shaved or sanded in some way. 
Aside from that, its proving extremely difficult 
to determine even a cause of death." "So we're 
sure these bodies were skeletonised before 
burial?" "Its not certain, but the evidence seems 
to suggest so." "Shit." Mulder hung his head in 
his hands, baffled. "We're talking about a fairly 
large-scale operation here, Mulder. Skeletonising 
whole bodies at a time..." "They couldn't have 
been done bit by bit?" "Not without leaving tool 
marks. We use methods such as soaking and boiling 
to remove connective tissue without marking the 
bones. The kind of separation we're seeing here 
couldn't have been done so cleanly without 
leaving a trace." As she talked, Scully had moved 
the two bedside lamps to the sideboard that ran 
parallel to the bed. Mulder remained seated as 
she rifled through an envelope of x-rays and 
selected three. She taped the films to the lamp-
shades in an improvised light-box set-up, lower 
leg, pelvis, an arm. She arranged a display of 
corresponding close-up photographs across the 
counter. 

"So you can see what we've reconstructed here. 
Essentially, these bones have been thoroughly 
stripped. No sign of tissue here at all, except 
for in the first body, but I'll get to that. That 
explains the lack of predation, even at the low-
level burial we've got in this case." Mulder 
added a number of glossy crime-scene photos to 
her grisly display. The images depicted the days 
dig in comic-strip stages, varying depths marked 
out by a gloved hand with a ruler. The final 
photograph showed an array of bones at a depth a 
little beyond one meter. 

"I'm thinking that our UNSUB could have dug this 
hole over any number of evenings. Though it would 
be possible to do in one night, it'd be a big 
effort. Anyway, who's going to notice a hole 
alongside a stretch if interstate like this. You 
get a strip of road like that you're doing 70, 80 
mph straight through." Mulder shrugged as he 
spoke, thinking of his own driving. "Need for 
speed, Mulder? The trooper who found the graves 
noticed it, didn't he?" "But it was a tip-off. He 
was aware of suspicious activity in the area. He 
was looking for something off-key. Seriously, 
Scully, would you stop and investigate if you saw 
a hole along a highway." She looked away, 
conceding to his point, still unsure of how to 
handle Mulder at his most tenacious. 

"There were traces of an acid compound found on 
the first body that was uncovered. We aren't 
clear on what exactly it was yet." Mulder thought 
for a moment, pondering the significance of her 
claim. "Would that explain the state of that 
first body?" "Maybe. Generally, if an acid was 
used to strip the body; especially with the high 
concentration detected here; one would expect the 
bones to be affected. They would become brittle, 
damaged. In this case the bones have become 
extremely porous, some connective tissue remains, 
holding this skeleton together, but the 
properties of the tissue are greatly altered. 
Whatever the body was exposed to, it seems to 
have melted the tissue, causing it to hold the 
bones like glue." "You have a theory on that?"
"Sort of. What if our UNSUB submerged the body 
and let the flesh dissolve. Then, by the time the 
skeleton was exposed, UNSUB realised it was 
spoiling the bones and had to remove the body 
from the substance, without fully stripping the 
bones." "Sure. I can go for that. UNSUB realises 
that acid is a tad unpredictable, if speedy, and 
adopts another method." "I'd imagine boiling." 
Scully paused, wondering whether to tell him what 
was on her mind, or keep it to herself until 
later. He looked at her expectantly. "The acid 
Mulder, the way it changed that body, it would 
explain why it looks the way it does. The body 
isn't the same as what you found in the box car 
in New Mexico." "I know."
"It isn't alien, Mulder. Its not even an X-file." 
"I know, Scully. But we may as well help out with 
this while we have clearance to be here. So, we 
still have no cause of death?" Scully was stunned 
into silence. Mulder took the news so much better 
than she thought he would. No argument at all. 
Mulder tapped a finger against his chin as though 
he was marking time. She continued to watch him 
warily until he repeated his question, "Cause of 
death?" "Notoriously hard to determine when 
working with only bones." "Could the boiling be 
the cause of death?" "It is possible, we have 
considered that, although it would be awkward to 
restrain someone, and it wouldn't be a 
particularly fast death." "Nor a quiet one. So 
our UNSUB would need somewhere out of the way." 
Scully imagined that the workings of his brain 
were almost audible. "Although, Mulder, this 
rough area here on the ribs," she pointed to a 
criss-cross pattern barely visible in one close-
up photo. Mulder took the image and tilted it in 
the light to get a good look away from the 
reflection on the glossy surface. "We are fairly 
sure that the ribs were sanded with a fine sand-
paper. The cross-hatching you can see there was 
probably made by two-way sanding - both up and 
down and left to right. A considerable amount has 
been shaved off from a localised area on a number 
of the ribs in two of the bodies." Scully flicked 
through the stack of photographs, showing him 
various angles of the damaged rib. "Meaning?"
"Possibly done to remove marks made by a weapon. 
If the victim was stabbed, chinks would be made 
in the bone that could help us identify a murder 
weapon. Our guy wants to keep us in the dark 
about as many details as possible." "And not 
doing a bad job." The lack of leading evidence 
was beginning to get to Mulder. He was linking 
the evidence and still coming up with nothing. 
"So this is someone who knows their stuff?" 
"Certainly. Removing evidence, not a single 
fingerprint left, nor a useful hair or fibre yet. 
And the precision with which the bones have been 
cleaned suggests to me someone with some sort of 
medical, or even forensic background." She knew 
she was racing ahead as Mulder shook his head, 
his brows furrowed at her assumptions. "You could 
pick up that information watching CSI or reading 
Patricia Cornwell, Scully." His tone was 
chastising and she felt silly for letting her 
frustration allow her to voice fleeting thoughts. 
"So you're thinking...what exactly?" Her tone was 
unintentionally catty and she paused to take a 
deep breath, calming herself. They often fought 
over silly annoyances when tensions were high. 
Scully wasn't above slamming doors when the 
pressure was on. "I'm going to need details on 
victimology. You any closer with that?" "Nothing 
I'd be prepared to go on record with just yet, 
but as it stands, there is no clear pattern." 
Scully crossed the room to root in her briefcase 
for the notes she needed. She scanned and 
returned to the edge of the bed. "Mixed 
victimology, no specific preference for sex, 
race. Age is a little more complex in terms of 
specificity with skeletonised bodies, but we are 
looking at a range of late adolescence to 
somewhere around the mid-sixty range, give or 
take. There's a pretty wide margin for error at 
this stage." "The body count is nine now."
"Nine."
"You wanna hear what I think?"
"Always." Scully rolled her eyes it was a little 
routine they habitually played through. A grin 
flashed across his mouth but was gone lightning-
fast. 

"I think the police found the bodies sooner than 
he had anticipated." "He?" Scully picked up on 
his slip-up and latched onto it. She was always 
eager to hear Mulder's profiles, desperate to 
know what monster they were seeking, for until 
she knew she would see murder in every face she 
met. "Don't even start with me on female serial 
killers." Mulder's tone was warning, but he 
smiled as he said it. He had begun to pace the 
room as though his brain was run on kinetic 
energy. He felt as though he had just found the 
corner pieces to a vast jigsaw. The pacing 
brought him to the window, where he peeled back a 
corner of the drape. The sun had dipped beneath 
the distant hills and blue shadows stretched out 
across the scrubland beyond the motels chain link 
fence. Mulder opened the curtains and waved for 
Scully to shut off the lamps. 

"I think that he placed the call to the Sheriff's 
Department himself." Scully nodded slowly even 
though his back was to her. "The area the caller 
identified was non-specific, a vast strip of the 
interstate. He didn't know they'd find it so 
quickly." "But a deputy saw the disturbed ground 
when he pulled over a drink-driver. Pure luck." 
"Luck was on our side, for once, Scully." He 
stopped as though that was his revelation. Scully 
knew better. He was being dramatic, drawing it 
out. "What aren't you telling me."
"I think he meant to bury ten bodies. Four in the 
last grave. That would make the setup a pyramid." 
It was so obvious Scully couldn't understand why 
her mathematical brain hadn't figured it out. 
"One in the first grave, two in the second, three 
in the third...of course there was supposed to be 
a fourth." "Only we uncovered them before he 
dropped the final body." "Oh my God, Mulder..." 
Scully's hand went to her mouth as she saw what 
Mulder was getting at. "He's making his 
escalation blatantly clear. He's spelling it out 
to us." "Then he ups the stakes and shows us how 
brave he is with the call to the cops before he 
buries the last body..." A horrible feeling came 
over her. "And we still don't have a clue who he 
is." "He knows us though, Scully." 

Scully felt the breath rush out of her. She 
watched him lean on the windowsill, physically 
weighed down by the responsibility of finding the 
killer. His shoulders hunched forward and his 
head dropped to rest against the dirty glass, 
cool now that the shadows had merged into 
twilight. She felt his exhaustion, matched it 
with her own and was overwhelmed by the need to 
touch him. She fought it for a moment, then stood 
on tired, shaky legs and went to him. She 
murmured his name as her arms slid around his 
narrow waist and her head came to rest between 
his shoulder-blades. Mulder sighed at her warmth, 
as the air-conditioning had left the room icy 
once the sun had slipped. Scully pressed her 
hands flat to his chest and felt the staccato 
rhythm of his heart until he covered them with 
his own big palms and laced his fingers through 
hers. "This kills me, Scully. I swore I wouldn't 
do this anymore." Scully smiled and turned her 
face so her nose and chin pressed into his spine. 
Mulder felt the hot patch of her breath. "No more 
profiling for Mulder." "Reeled in though, every 
time Agent." Scully's soft laugh trembled through 
his chest and he found himself smiling. "I'm just 
too damn good." He laughed then, and turned in 
her arms, bringing them chest to chest. He 
wrapped his arms around his tiny partner, 
crushing her to him for a moment, before dropping 
them to her waist. He leant forward and rested 
his forehead against hers. They stood for long 
moments as the light dipped and vanished. 

Long days and longer nights drew his hands 
upwards to thread into her hair and his lips 
pressed the top of her head. A smile tugged at 
her mouth but the lump in her throat straightened 
it out. She wasn't even sure where the urge to 
cry had slunk in from. "You need to get some 
rest, Mulder." She mumbled and barely recognised 
her own voice. His breath was hot against her 
scalp as he whispered her name and she pulled 
back to look at him. A second passed and her eyes 
flickered over his sad expression, searching for 
meaning in his familiar features. A frown crept 
over her and her lips parted, about to ask a 
question, when his face changed and his mouth 
came down to cover hers. 

The press of his kiss was gentle and warm and he 
hesitated, mouth to mouth, giving her a chance to 
run. Yet the wave of heat that rushed over her 
was sudden and unexpected and she gasped and 
drowned in her desire. She reached for him and 
pulled him down into the depths along with her, 
replacing all the air in her body with as much of 
him as she could draw in, feeling him running in 
her blood, through her veins, straight through 
her heart. 

It was Mulder's turn to gasp at the change in her 
as she kissed him with an intensity that 
frightened him as much as it excited him. He was 
too stunned to respond for an instant and he felt 
her begin to pull away. In a panic he chased her 
retreating mouth, tugging her back and feeling 
her breath laugh against him. She was all around 
him, scratching and soothing, soft and hot and 
utterly flowing as her knees hit the mattress and 
fell back, dragging him with her. Her lungs 
emptied with a sound somewhere between laughter 
and pain as his weight came down on her. "Shit!" 
Mulder was chuckling, struggling to lift himself 
slightly. "We shouldn't be doing this." Ever the 
voice of reason, his heart leapt, expecting her 
to push him away. Yet even as she said the words, 
she was urging his weight downwards and lifting 
her head to meet him. "Fuck it." He ground out 
and joined her fully on the bed. 

But Scully was quiet and serious when his lips 
found hers again in the darkness and she welcomed 
him into her arms. He held her so close he was 
afraid that she would pass right through him, and 
she curled catlike against him, smoothing his 
hair back from his face. 

Mulder was suddenly more tired than he had ever 
been in his life. He opened his mouth to speak, 
but only managed her name. "Shh. Go to sleep."
"I'm sorry Scully."
"Sleep, Mulder. You need to rest." He nodded, 
eyes already slipping closed. In the back of his 
mind, he knew he was still wearing his dirty 
clothes and the cell phone in his pocket dug into 
his thigh. He was too tired to care. The warmth 
of his partner's body curled against him was too 
much to bear and he was confused by her mixed 
messages. Still, he couldn't help but slip his 
leg over hers, binding her to him. Mulder felt 
Scully shift beside him, but she didn't move to 
leave as he expected her to. She too seemed to be 
drifting between waking and sleeping. He wondered 
whether he would wake when she inevitably crept 
from the room. 

Scully let her eyes close, feeling sadder than 
she had before. Mulder snored lightly beside her 
and she knew they had made a mistake. Rather than 
fight with him, then slam the door in his face, 
as she had done a thousand times before, she had 
given in to a more lethal urge. Now he was sorry 
and she didn't know what to do. Instinct told her 
to get up and run, but her heart told her to 
stay, to wait and see if he would be the one to 
flee. 

When she woke to the ringing alarm, he was gone. 

(To be continued...) 

Author's note: This is my first attempt at a 
case-file or sorts, although its not strictly an 
x-file. Please, please, pretty please let me know 
if you made it this far, or if I should even 
bother with the next part!! Kimogen5@hotmail.com