Title: Bare Bones (3/?)
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. 

His running shoes were gone, she noticed as she 
collected her jeans and underwear and her ruined 
shirt. His Armani was missing too. From the 
evidence, Scully couldn't help but deduce that he 
had gone running; then straight to work; 
effectively avoiding her until at least six that 
evening. 

By the time she had scrubbed the scent of sex and 
sweat from her skin and buttoned herself into her 
navy suit, Scully was done with thinking about 
him. Easier said than done. She stood in front of 
the mirror, tucking her hair behind her ears and 
inching her collar over so as to conceal the 
bruise that marked her neck, all the while not 
thinking about him. She didn't want to imagine 
his mouth on her; sucking on her pulse as his 
warm hand supported the weight of her breast; but 
the image rushed upon her leaving her flushed and 
breathless. She turned away from the mirror in 
disgust, forcing the forbidden thoughts out of 
her mind and stepping out into the hot white 
morning. 

She ensconced herself in Conference Room Three of 
the OCME, surrounded by glossy prints and x-rays. 
A stack of paperwork mounted beside her as she 
worked meticulously through the evidence, piecing 
together a portfolio of information that would 
hopefully help identify the nine bodies 
discovered out on the highway. Yet her science 
had given her little beyond preliminary findings 
and Scully found herself feeling more than a 
little overshadowed by her anthropologist 
colleague. The illustrious Dr. Brian Stevens was 
a striking older man with sharp blue eyes set in 
a tanned face and prematurely white hair. His 
quiet confidence and muted sexuality reminded 
Scully of Daniel in ways she wasn't prepared to 
explore. She was far more content to ponder the 
fact that though brilliant in her own field of 
forensic pathology, she was beginning to wonder 
whether she wasn't a little out of her depth. She 
busied herself with noting distinguishing 
features of each skeleton; evidence of damage 
through injury, illness, surgery; allowing 
herself to dwell on her own professional 
insecurities - if only because feeling inadequate 
kept her from thinking about Mulder and the 
events of the previous evening. 

Scully worked through nine sets of forms before 
transferring her findings into the digital 
catalogue used by the Medical Examiner's Office 
to cross-match with local and national police 
databases. Physical information such as dental 
impressions had already been scanned the day 
before and she found herself wondering how cases 
were ever solved at all before computer archives. 

Thirteen hours after arriving at the OCME, Scully 
sighed and stood, finally up to date with her 
findings. She had seen no sign of Stevens, who 
had retreated to his labs once he had seen her 
settled in the conference room. He was determined 
to establish some new information that she could 
take back to Mulder, who had made quite an 
impression on the Doctor with his profiling 
skills. Apparently his reputation preceded him. 
Scully was shocked to see the time. Thirteen 
hours without being disturbed - or even taking a 
break to eat. Her stomach was hollow and her 
mouth was sour with vending machine coffee. She 
reached for her cell phone, concerned that the 
battery may be flat. Two bars flashed at her. 
Scully frowned, uncertain of the last time she 
had been left to more than two hours of peace. 
She checked her signal. Clear. 

Scully stretched out her cramping muscles, 
feeling slightly dejected and more than a little 
abandoned. Mulder hadn't even tried to contact 
her. An ache groaned through her body, instantly 
undoing a days worth of not-thinking about 
Mulder. The soreness between her legs brought a 
rush of unbidden memories that set her heart 
thudding as she thought of his grasping, gripping 
hands and the crush of his pelvis against hers. 
She stood miserably for a long moment, one hand 
over her eyes and the other braced against the 
table for support. She felt the tug of his hand 
in the tender roots of her hair and saw the pain 
in his face as he struggled to end what he had 
started. An identifiable emotion swirled inside 
her, rich and acidic and something like guilt and 
shame. She allowed herself to feel let down and 
ashamed. She deserved it. Mulder was running from 
her now - because she had lacked the strength to 
tell him to get the fuck off of her and run the 
hell away. She had let him screw her like a dime-
store hooker, locked somewhere between his own 
confused sentiments and the mania of a criminal 
mind. She had let him use her and she had almost 
liked it. 

The laptop blipped a low-battery warning and the 
sound drew Scully from her reverie. She looked up 
and caught sight of a face at the window in the 
door. Stevens smiled and waved as he caught her 
eye. He opened the door and stepped into the 
comfortable room. 

"Agent Scully, I didn't like to interrupt 
earlier. You seemed so involved..." "That's fine 
Dr. Stevens, I'm finishing up now." She smiled 
thinly. "I just wanted to show you this." Stevens 
held up a brown file-folder, "I merged my latest 
findings with the information you added earlier. 
I thought it best to begin with the same skeleton 
as yourself - so as to work with a complete set 
of information." Scully nodded, taking the file 
and opening it before the doctor finished. "As 
you can see, we have a possible I.D. on one 
body." "Hispanic male, thirty-five years of age, 
five-eleven, 180 pounds," Scully read the 
information. They had already established as much 
from the skeleton. Now they had a name and a 
match on dental imprints. "How did you find 
this?" "Missing persons. The computer threw out a 
bunch of possible matches and I went through one 
by one. This one seemed most probable; I managed 
to get hold of dental records fairly quickly..." 
Scully nodded, knowing the procedure and flicking 
on to the victims personal details. He had a 
criminal record. "Hasn't been seen in over a 
year, car found abandoned in a supermarket 
parking lot. Local guy, well known to the 
police." "Petty theft, low-level coke 
dealing...solicitation? He was a male 
prostitute?" "Unfortunately there's a lot of it 
around, Agent Scully." The doctor was grave, 
unaware of the new developments in Mulder's 
profile. Scully wondered whether anyone knew of 
the new developments but her. "Mulder suspected 
as much. I think that's where we need to start." 
Scully was already packing the laptop into its 
case, ignoring its imploring her to charge its 
battery. The files went into her briefcase, the 
latest on Julio DeMarquez sliding in on top for 
easy access. She dialled Mulder's number from her 
cell phone, "I'm gonna have to get hold of Mulder 
over this one. I'll let you know as soon as I 
hear anything. In the meantime, thanks, and keep 
up the good work." 

Scully mentally kicked herself as she clipped 
along the corridor, `keep up the good work'? 
Stupid. She felt foolish at saying such a thing 
to Dr. Stevens and she took it out on Mulder, 
leaving him a snippy voice-mail. "Mulder, call me 
when you get this, wherever the hell you are. I 
have new information, a victim I.D. He was a rent 
boy Mulder. Oh...Just call me as soon as you get 
this." She hung up the phone, sliding into her 
car and starting the ignition before she had even 
considered where she would start looking for him. 
He could be anywhere; back at the motel by now, 
at the dig-site, or trawling through bars and 
strip clubs and peep shows, or even at the police 
department. While she was waiting for him to 
call, she had no chance of finding him. 

Scully stopped the car, feeling anger rise in 
her. Stupid. They had avoided becoming personally 
involved for so many years. So many nights she 
had lain in bed on the other side of town from 
him, on the other side of the wall...years of 
innuendo, years of pulling away from his embrace, 
of turning her face from his kisses. Always 
keeping her distance because their work was too 
important. Stupid. How could she have been so 
stupid? 

The phone rang twice before it diverted to 
voicemail. She left him another message. "Dammit 
Mulder, this is important. I need to know where 
you are. This won't wait." Scully snapped the 
phone shut and sat with it in the palm of her 
hand, as though she could will it to ring. Then 
she pulled her briefcase up from the footwell of 
the passenger side and shuffled through for her 
list of contact numbers. Mulder wouldn't be out 
canvassing alone, someone must have seen him. 

Yet there was no sign of him at the Sherrif's 
Department, nor had he reported in to Skinner 
that morning. He hadn't accessed his Bureau 
voicemail that day, as she discovered when she 
dialled in his private code. She tried his cell 
once more before calling the motel rooms. She 
called his room a number of times before 
contacting reception and having them check the 
room. His car hadn't been seen all day. With a 
growing feeling of dread, Scully called the 
Special Agent in Charge at the dig site as she 
drove away from the Medical Examiner's Office. 

Long minutes passed as she was put on hold and 
passed around various agents, none of whom had 
seen Mulder since the previous day. Eventually 
she reached SAC Mitchell Davies. Scully was 
pulling up outside the motel by the time Davies 
confirmed her fears: Mulder never showed up that 
morning, and hadn't called to explain. 

"And you never wondered where he might be? Never 
thought to call him?" Scully's voice rose despite 
her efforts to keep it steady. She opens the car 
door and she is right outside Mulder's door. "He 
didn't answer his phone. I guessed he was with 
you, Agent Scully, I'm not his baby-sitter." "And 
you never called me when he didn't answer?" "I'm 
not his baby-sitter." The ASAC remained 
annoyingly calm. "He's probably just off on one 
of his ghost-chases..." "Don't give me that shit, 
Davies...if anything has happened to him because 
you didn't follow protocol, so help me God..." 
Scully let herself into her own room, getting no 
response from Mulder's. She threw open the 
connecting door between the rooms, praying that 
she would find him sprawled on the bed. 
"Protocol? With all due respect Agent Scully..." 
Davies' voice was tinny in her ear, like a 
buzzing fly as she surveyed the room. No one had 
been inside since she had left that morning. 
"Shit." She shut the phone on Davies' whining 
voice, cutting him off mid-sentence. Her heart 
was racing as she dialled Mulder's number one 
last time. "Come on Mulder, don't mess with 
me...pick up the phone..." Voicemail. "Dammit!" 

The parking lot was vast and dusty and white as 
she emerged from the rooms and it hurt her eyes. 
She paused to let her vision adjust before 
starting off at a march back to her car. She 
wasn't sure where to start, but she had an awful 
feeling in her stomach, much worse than the guilt 
and shame she had felt earlier. She circled as 
she neared the car, still not knowing what to do, 
tapping the phone against her leg as though it 
would make it ring. She stopped her pacing, 
telling herself to calm down, taking deep breaths 
and trying to settle her racing heart. She was 
frantic, knowing that something was wrong and 
cursing herself for letting him fuck her, then 
for fucking him back, then for letting him run 
away, and then for pushing him from her mind. 
Stupid. Stupid. Stupid. 

The phone vibrated in her hand before it blared 
its waspy ring. She snatched it up, answering it 
as she glanced at the name on the display. 
"Skinner? Sir? Mulder's missing."
"I know."
"What? How...How can you know?" 
"His car, Agent Scully...I need you to stay calm 
but they found his car..." "I don't 
understand...how could you know he's missing 
before I did?" "Agent...I need you to calm down 
and listen...listen to me..." Scully sat heavily 
on the bonnet of her car, feeling the deep red 
metal burn through her trousers. The sweat was 
beginning to drip around her collar and she 
thought of the bruise that the collar concealed 
there on her throat. The phone was against her 
ear and she could barely hear Skinner going on 
about email and staying in contact with Dr. 
Stevens and the location of DeMarquez's car. Then 
it hit her. "You found his car? Mulder's car?"
"His suit and shoes were inside, Scully, he never 
made it back from his run." "Shit."
"We have out an APB on Agent Mulder, but we don't 
really know what the hell we're even looking 
for." Scully looks down at her feet, seeing the 
dust on her black boots and wondering where all 
the white grit comes from. She can see the 
silhouette of the bed through the windows and she 
remembers how the sunset lit the room red the 
night before. Then she sees the footprints 
beneath the window, too large to be her own, not 
large enough to be Mulder's. She wonders briefly 
whether they could belong to the motel 
receptionist she had check the room earlier, but 
then she sees the print on the window. A smudge, 
as though someone had breathed hard against the 
glass. She knows then, who stood there and what 
he saw. "Sir..."
"Agent?"
"He was here."
"Who?"
"He was here and he watched us. He was right 
here."