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aethon-recs · 6 months

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Love the blog!

Wondering if you have any Tomarry/Harrymort case-fic/mystery recs?

Thanks so much for the ask! I also can’t get enough of the casefic/mystery genre.

Usually I throw together a mix of both WIPs (why WIPs?) and complete fics, but for this set of 15 recs, I selected for fics which are either complete or still actively updating, so as not to leave you on a cliffhanger on a mystery fic! A few of these fics are outright casefics, and a few of these have a mystery component where the big reveal comes to light as the story unfolds. Hope you enjoy!

Tomarrymort Mystery Recs

aurora polaris by @aglassroseneverfades (E, 153k, WIP)

Harry wakes up one day with no memory of his past, upon which he’s greeted by a handsome, doting older man named Gaunt who claims that he and Harry have been in a relationship together for years.

Blood in the wine by @girl-with-goats (E, 31k, complete)

Tom Riddle achieves immortality by the means of vampirism. Enter young copper Harry Potter, fresh recruit from Scotland Yard, sent to investigate the mysterious disappearances of all the young men who uncannily look like him.

Corpse Party: Hogwarts Edition by @robinegberts (E, 67k, complete)

Harry, Hermione, and Ron skip the Halloween feast, only to wake up to a world where the castle isn’t right. It’s cold, empty, quiet. The layers of dust suggest it’s been abandoned for years. And outside the classroom lies the corpse of a girl who went missing years ago. As they wander the halls of this strange alternate version of Hogwarts, they encounter corpse after corpse, warnings left behind by the dead, and for some reason Harry feels they’re being followed.

Dead Leaves on a Wet October Day by @trelloreads (T, 29k, complete)

Harry is a ghost hunter. Riddle Manor is his strangest case yet.

Everything We Dream Can Be Real by @vdoshu (E, 52k, complete)

Harry had a life after Voldemort. He had a family. He had a career. And then one day it was all ripped away when he woke up at Number 4 Privet Drive. Or: Where Harry doesn’t exactly get that chance to do it over again. And things are Not Okay.

Keepsake by IceLynx (M, 5k, complete)

“I am Lord Voldemort, and I have not kidnapped you.” “That's... I should have known that.” Because Voldemort's words ring true, deep in Harry's heart. Harry tries to remember, but the thoughts won't come to him. The more he forces it, the more obvious the gaps in his memories become. “Why didn't I know that?”

Let's Cross Over by @whisprchrysalis (M, 251k, complete)

A hundred years after the end of the Second War, Harry Potter, Master of Death, unwittingly helps the last fragment of Lord Voldemort’s soul escape Limbo. Now, bound to Tom Riddle for the next five years, Harry has to coexist with the man he feared the most. Or: Auror MOD Harry and Tom Riddle strike an uneasy truce and solve crimes together, and Harry has to decide if his capacity to save everyone includes everyone, really.

love seeping from their guns by @purplemineralwater (E, 41k, complete)

Detective Harry Potter is just trying to enjoy his holiday when the tranquility of the lovely cruise along the Nile is shattered by the discovery that Theodore Nott has been shot. He was young, rich and beautiful, a boy that had everything – until he lost his life. Or: Harry investigates some murder, Tom tries to help, everyone has many, many secrets.

No Body, No Crime by @duplicitywrites (M, 20k, complete)

Harry works as a car mechanic in a small town. He and Ginny are best friends, their close bond the product of a traumatic event that scarred them both as children. One day, Ginny confides in Harry that she thinks her husband—the charming, enigmatic Tom Riddle—is cheating on her. A day later, Ginny goes missing. Harry is convinced that Tom is behind her disappearance, and becomes determined to exact justice by any means necessary.

One Year In Every Ten by @saintsenara (E, 165k, WIP)

A decade after the final battle, just when the wizarding world thinks itself safe, a serial killer emerges, leaving a trail of dead women in his wake. Each of the bodies bears a gruesome message for the Aurors. A message which claims the Dark Lord has risen again. All Harry wants is something to distract him from a marriage falling apart at the seams. Maybe his latest plan to save the world, requiring Lord Voldemort to agree to turn his talents in the realm of wrongdoing to solving the case, will be just the thing…

Personal Assistant by @phantomato (E, 10k, complete)

Harry receives a mysterious package. Inside is a ring. A weird, ugly, old one made of gold and some kind of black stone.

Reconciling with Death by Madame_Psychosis (M, 27k, complete)

Featuring a dead girl in a forest, little-soldier-boys, some tenuous grasps on reality, straw mothers, a ghost in a bathroom and, slowly and sadly, kindness from a boy who’s just passing through time.

The Matchmaker by @eris-dawn (M, 44k, complete)

The Matchmaker is a serial abductor whose modus operandi consists of pairing two same-sex individuals together in a coffin, six feet underground - buried alive. He isn't a killer. He's a kidnapper with morals, and Detective Chief Inspector Tom Riddle finds himself obsessed with solving the case. Unfortunately for Tom, the Matchmaker is just as intent on knowing him.

Tom Riddle and the Quest for Vulnerability by lejf (E, 16k, complete)

They found him in an old house, under the stairs. His face was pale and instantly recognisable. aka: Auror Harry Potter has eighteen-year-old Tom Riddle bent over the table barely a day after he becomes his ward.

Wings of Ash by IceLynx (M, 31k, complete)

If eight people going missing isn't cause enough for panic, one of them being found dead might do it. The Ministry of Magic has no choice but accept all the help on offer, including that of former Auror Harry Potter. For Harry, it might be a chance to get his job back, if he can only crack the case first. Surely Harry can be forgiven if he too takes all the help that's offered. Including that of his pet snake, the former Dark Lord Voldemort.

#tomarrymort #tomarry #harrymort #aethon recs #tomarry recs #tomarrymort recs #harrymort recs #hp fic recs #ao3 recs #fanfic recs #tom riddle #voldemort #mystery #casefic #casefic recs

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meetinginsamarra · 3 months

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On Sunday I'll start posting my casefic !

Finally, my casefic is completely written and betaed!

In December 2022 I was thinking about a birthday present for my friend @peageetibbs . I came up with the idea of writing and gifting a fic, Sherlock would solve a mystery set in a cinema because my friend runs a cinema in the spare time IRL. Easy case, short fic, max 8k. Of course, the case evolved and became more complicated and the fic amounted to 56k and 15 chapters in the end.

It's the first real casefic I have written and I am very proud of it. All in all, it took me over a year to finish, including two longer breaks in between. I have missed the deadline for last year's birthday but this year, the fic will be in time.

I will be posting the first chapter on AO3 Sunday 18th.

Uploads will happen every Wednesday and Friday.

If anyone likes to be tagged on tumblr when it updates, let me know!

#my sherlock fanfics #the curious case of the casablanca killer #meet_me_in_samarra on AO3 #casefic #teaser post

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itsjustdg · 2 months

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Houndsight

Well, after that writer's game post yesterday where I said I was stuck trying to figure out my scene organization, I finally figured out what I wanted to do.

And so here's the next chapter in my current WIP, also known as the blind!Charlie fic.

And yes, there's a fight scene, but it's me so are you really surprised? However, much as I love him and he had high hopes for it, gotta say that it doesn't quite go like how our hero probably hoped... 😈 (Do I hear complaining? I certainly hope not. There's none from me.)

(I also apologize for the delay in between chapters, but there was this whole thing where I fought a kidney stone and a few infections during literally the entire month of December (and missed holidays with my family, so that was fun) and then spent most of January recovering, so you're kind of lucky you're even getting another chapter so soon, really, if you look at it that way.)

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xfilesfanficexchange · 9 months

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Quantum Collision

Author: @katy-kt-katie For: @spookyshhouse Mulder and Scully meet while working for different agencies and have to team up to solve several murders. Link Here

#XFSlowburn2023 1/9

#XFSlowburn2023 #mulder #scully #msr #x files #fanfic #x files fanfic #slowburn #casefic

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amysnotdeadyet · 6 days

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If you're curious what my original fiction is like, Untrue Love, my no-romance casefic prequel to the Consulting Magic books is free for a couple of days:

#fiction #my fic #casefic #consulting magic #free for now

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cambria-writes · 2 years

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welcome to honey and the hatchet! I started writing this in like, 2015 when i was first binge watching the series. and obviously because i have a thing for older rogueish men that i can absolutely fix…

pairing: jane x named reader word count: 1,666 rating: PG13 warnings: description of murder scenes, blood, trauma

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𝕮𝖍𝖆𝖕𝖙𝖊𝖗 𝕺𝖓𝖊: 𝔊𝔬𝔩𝔡

You sit patiently at a stainless steel table a the the CBI headquarters. It’s nearly midnight, and you wish you could think of better things to do. Think of other things at all, actually. Clear your mind of the corpse that had been lingering in it for the past several hours was something you desperately wanted.

“Miss Benraft?” A woman enters the ceiling-less room. You can’t help but notice how much confidence she exudes as she walks. You perk at the mention of your name and sit straighter. “I’m sorry to keep you waiting so long,” the agent apologizes and takes a seat in front of you. “I’m special agent Lisbon, this is Patrick Jane.” She gestures at the man who follows behind her.

He deposits a cup of tea in its saucer in front of you before sitting himself next to agent Lisbon. You incline your head in acknowledgement and cautiously bring the cup of tea to your lips. You’re pleasantly surprised; it’s sweet and doesn’t actually scorch your mouth. There’s the tell-tale sign of honey, what you’re sure is green tea, and a fruity note you can’t quite place.

“Can you tell us what happened, Miss Benraft?,” agent Lisbon asks quietly and patiently. She seems like a wonderful person. Honest, patient, very strong. You keep your eyes downcast, attempting to stare through the bottom of your startlingly yellow teacup.

“Tommy’s a local favourite,” you start slowly, trying to calm yourself to better recall the series of events. “I was walking home from a café and his house is on the way. His wife passed a few years ago so we, uh, you know. The other people my age. We make a point to make sure he’s okay, right? So when I noticed the front door was open I didn’t think much of it? Someone probably popped in to say hi, or something, no one really locks their door in that neighborhood. “When I noticed the driver and passenger doors to his car were open, I got a little worried? So I walked up to touch the hood and it was cold. Um. That’s… the car had been off for a while, right? So I guessed he wasn’t bringing in groceries, and, um.”

You paused uncomfortably and closed your eyes. Terrible idea; you could see the blood in the living room. You took a shaky breath and put the teacup back in its saucer. You flattened your hands against the cool table and screwed your face. This day could not be over fast enough.

“It’s alright, Skye,” Lisbon offers softly, placing one of her hands on the table as well. Leans forward. Bless this woman, you think. She’s great at her job.

You don’t see Mr Jane’s hand moving to cover your left one. The warmth startles you. Knee bangs against a table leg, teacups rattle in their saucers. You mutter a quick panicked apology. Notice that the hand still covers your.

“You’re safe with us, Miss Benraft,” Mr Jane says quietly, his thumb barely rubbing yours. You look at both your hands on the table and frown. It’s the only expression your face seems capable of, right now. “Just breathe, slowly. In, and out. Just focus on your own breathing. In… and out.”

He continues that way for a moment, and you’re acutely aware of what he’s doing. You breathe as he tells you regardless, feel the tension ebbing from your muscles. Flowing out. Shoulders slump with a stuttering sigh. Apparently satisfied, Jane removes his hand and leans back in his chair, crosses his legs. Looks at Lisbon. Oh, yeah, that’s self satisfaction all over his face.

You continue forcing yourself to breathe steadily. “Right, sorry, it’s just…”

“We can do this tomorrow if you need to,” agent Lisbon offers helpfully. You shake your head. “Alright. Take your time.”

You don’t quite laugh; the sound is choked and probably sounds more painful than intended. You clear your throat. Steel yourself, and continue.

“So. The car hadn’t been on for a while, the doors were open and the front door was open, and I got worried.”

“Why didn’t you call 911 right away?” Lisbon’s tone is soft and inquisitive; you don’t read the accusation in your voice that you think is there.

“He’s ninety… Tommy was 93, he was old. Old people tend to uh. Well, forget? Things? So I thought, maybe he just got distracted, and I didn’t really want to deal with upset first responders because I called emergency services for no reason, so I mean. I waited to see if there was actually something wrong. “So, I went up to the front door and noticed that the frame was busted at the handle and I just. I, um.”

Take a deep, steadying breath. Warm hand on your again. Jane’s face is so impassive. He barely seems disturbed by any of this. Lisbon seems far more upset by this murder than he does.

You remember to think about it later.

“I dialed 911 when I saw that. I was calling out for him when I walked through the door and that’s. That’s, uh. The kitchen’s down the hallway when you come in and the living room’s just of to the right and that. That’s… jesus christ.”

You stop yourself when you feel a lump rising in your throat. Down the rest of the tea, hope the heat will help dissolve the anxiety and fear. You’re so close to being done, to being able to go home. Though, really, you’re not sure you want to. It doesn’t feel nearly as safe right now.

“That’s when you found him,” Jane completes, helpfully and thankfully. You nod and screw your eyes shut again. Not vomiting while recalling the image is hard. You manage, somehow.

“Yeah. Yeah that’s when I saw the body. He was white a snow and there was. Just, there was so much blood, and his eyes were open? And he wasn’t… it didn’t look like he was breathing so I, I just… What happened? After that? I don’t remember.”

You place the teacup back in its saucer with a slightly louder clanging of porcelain than you’d like. Agent Lisbon and Mr Jane look at each other with a look that probably holds an entire conversation that you’re blissfully unaware of.

“Did you see anything, before going inside the house?,” Lisbon asks, with a hint of hesitation that you don’t miss. You shake your head slowly. “Nobody, no cars around?”

“I don’t think so, no. What happened? You two look like you know something I don’t,” you try again, wringing your hands in your lap and leaning forward.

Jane clearly his throat and leans on the table with his elbows. His posture feels conspirational. You can’t quite figure out what’s bothering you about it.

“Well, Skye, the 911 recording has you on hysterics on the phone and then just, nothing.” He motions vaguely in front of him before clasping his hands together. “EMTs found you in Thomas’ kitchen looking into the sink and kind of muttering to yourself.”

Don’t look at him directly, and frown at his hands. “...was the sink full?” You repeat yourself; you’d asked too quietly the first time.

Lisbon frowns at Jane before looking at you. “Yeah, it was. Did you do that?”

“I don’t…” You shake your head. “I don’t know, I can’t remember what I did after dialing 911. Do you know what I was saying?” You grab the edge of the table in front of you, look at the agent.

“EMTs said they couldn’t make out what you were saying,” she replied, although it feels uneasy.

“Something about a hatchet and a river,” Jane adds. Frown deeper. A hatchet? There’s no river near your neighborhood either? “Does that mean anything to you, Skye?”

Shake your head again. Haven’t seen a hatchet in years; haven’t had the need for one, really. The sink, though, it still bothers you. Silence hangs for a moment after that. More and more people start milling around. A skeleton crew to staff the early hours of this investigation is your best guess. You run a hand down your face. Through your hair.

What a shitty day.

If you hadn’t gone for coffee, maybe…

“Well, Miss Benraft, I think that’ll be—” agent Lisbon begins, but you interrupt her.

“Sorry, uh, was the sink—the water in it, was it clear? Was it like, dishwater? Or something?”

Lisbon frowns. “It was clear,” Mr Jane replies smoothly. Ah, there is is. Some kind of facial expression on him that doesn’t look forced. He looks genuinely intrigued, if not a little confused.

You nod to yourself. “One um. One last thing? I don’t really feel safe going back home. I mean I live close by so is. Is there anywhere..?”

You leave the question hanging, but agent Lisbon seems to get the gist of it. “Sure, of course. I can see about booking a room at a nearby hotel for you and have someone stand guard, if that’s okay?”

“Oh nonsense Lisbon,” Jane pipes up. The eagerness in his voice does nothing for the tension back in your body. “She can stay here, can’t see? I wouldn’t mind talking with her more.” He turns to you, and there’s something not quite right between his expression and what’s in his eyes. “Would that be alright with you, Miss Benraft?”

Off guard, you flounder for words. “Um, sure? I mean I don’t mind? Is that really okay? I mean it’s not like I saw anything and I really don’t want to get in the way—” You turn to agent Lisbon but she seems to be nearly as confused as you are. She’s about to reply, but gets waved off by Jane.

“Of course it’s fine. You said you can’t remember what happened after the call, right? I can help you remember.” He stands and take both your teacups and offers his elbow to help you up. “Come on, I’ll make you another cup of tea."

#the mentalist #patrick jane #patrick jane x reader #patrick jane x you #fanfiction #mentalist fanfiction #casefic #honey and the hatchet

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neverwalka1one · 1 month

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Chapters: 8/8 Fandom: 魔道祖师 - 墨香铜臭 | Módào Zǔshī - Mòxiāng Tóngxiù, 魔道祖师 | Módào Zǔshī (Cartoon) Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence Relationships: Lan Zhan | Lan Wangji/Wei Ying | Wei Wuxian Characters: Lan Zhan | Lan Wangji, Wei Ying | Wei Wuxian, Original Characters Additional Tags: canon-typical horror elements, Worldbuilding, Desert, Misuse of Historic Setting, Original Character Death(s), Case Fic, aftermath of canon, ridiculously long author notes, Because I Have Nowhere Else to Talk Headcanons, Established Relationship, Nothing Explicit But Shameless Innuendo Summary:

Patience is a bitter plant that bears sweet fruit.

Lan Wangji doesn't know why Wei Wuxian is so interested in traveling to a city at the very edge of the civilized world. After Yunping, what secrets could possibly be left?

But the desert remembers many things.

#good fic #casefic #mdzs #fics that make me want to chew the walls they're so good

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white-collar-lawmen-and-conmen · 2 years

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Bodyguard

Summary: There’s immediate chemistry when Y/N works as Neal’s bodyguard.

Words: 2,569

Requested by anon

“I didn’t know there was a whole gym,” Neal commented, looking around with some interest at the exercise equipment. He almost considered asking if he was allowed down here without supervision, but then decided communal equipment probably didn’t meet his standards of cleanliness.

Peter had brought him down to the basement floor and into a large, open room with black mats. One agent was running at a treadmill, another two were working at ellipticals, and a fourth was doing some push-ups in athleticwear. Lastly, on a slim side of the room without any extra equipment, but on a gymnastics mat, a pair of agents were working hand-to-hand training.

“It’s not exactly here to be an amenity,” Peter pointed out, slowing down as they approached the agents working hand-to-hand. “We’re not here to work out, anyway. Jones says our guy’s reportedly quick to jump the gun. Possibly literally. I’m not having you go in alone.”

They stopped a couple yards from the mat. One of the fighters was a tall man with arms that could give Jason Momoa a run for his money. The other was a woman with sweat dripping down her face and hell in her eyes. Neal was enchanted by you straight away. While they watched, the older man came at you to pick you up as if in a fireman’s hold, but you slammed her body weight right into his mass, tightened each fist around the opposite side of his shirt collar, and pulled your arms back across each other as hard as possible. Although the male agent was, in fact, able to grab you the second time, he couldn’t pick you up without choking himself harder, and he stomped his foot twice to reset.

“I told you it would work,” you said smugly, releasing his shirt while he rubbed his throat. You turned and your eyes slipped right past Peter and Neal, zeroing in on your bottled water and hand towel at the edge of the mat.

“Only in one-on-one,” your coworker cautioned, rubbing his throat with one hand. “And only for you would I ever bet on that one.”

You wiped off her forehead and then gave Peter and Neal both a bright smile, holding the water bottle against her neck as if it were still cold. “Hi,” you said cheerfully. “You must be Burke. Lovely to meet you. I’m L/N.”

“Neal,” the thief interjected himself, giving her his most charming smile. “That was very impressive.”

“I’m sold,” you said to Peter straight away before turning back to Neal. “You can call me Y/N. I’ll be your bodyguard for your undercover operation.” You lowered her water bottle and gave him a short curtsy. “I’ve been with the bureau about two years, but aced weapons training and have been studying martial arts since I was a kid. You’ll be in good hands.”

“Evil hands,” your coworker huffed, drinking water himself and still rubbing sorely at his neck. “Evil, evil hands.”

Peter chuckled while Neal gave you a warm smile. “I already feel safer.”

He didn’t feel threatened at all, really, and some traditional, gentlemanly part of himself didn’t love the idea of a female bodyguard. Not that he didn’t appreciate strong women; it could be argued he appreciated strong women a bit too much – but it felt different, somehow, to go in expecting a woman to take a hit for him and hit back on his behalf, compared to simply going in with a female partner and trusting her to have his back. Bodyguard had a different connotation he didn’t like so much… but, bodyguards had their place in the environment he’d be trying to blend into.

Y/N smiled back at him. It could’ve been just his imagination, but he thought you were charming him, too. Maybe flirting a little. Just as he thought you were having a moment, Peter ruined it by interrupting to talk shop.

“We’d love to get you up to white collar and run down the plan early,” he said. The smile slipped off of your face, replaced immediately by a completely professional and solemn expression. Peter continued, “Let you sleep on it, and give an opportunity to think of any questions before we officially get started.”

“I just need twenty minutes and I can be in your division,” you said, pointing over towards the door that Neal presumed led to the showers.

“Take thirty,” Peter said kindly, then sending a playful look over Y/N’s shoulder. “You alright there, Chris?”

Chris, who had started cooling off while they talked, gave a thumbs-up. “I’m just going to miss her so much,” he said sarcastically, making you smirk. “Who else is going to make me look average?”

“I’ll be back to combat training before you know it,” you promised him teasingly, giving Neal a lingering look of what he decided was friendly interest before heading to the showers to clean off.

Neal watched you go, mindfully keeping his eyes up north. It wasn’t often he met agents who were so willing to broadcast friendliness towards him, much less ones who were willing to be a little bit flirty. And, he had to admit, he liked that athletic look you had.

“Eh,” Peter said, making the noise sharp in his throat like he did at Satchmo. Neal startled and Peter shook his head. “Don’t even think about it.”

“Never,” Neal agreed, inwardly rolling his eyes. No point in arguing when Peter had already decided he was misbehaving. “Just-“ His agent made the noise again and Neal’s lips tightened in irritation. “That’s so rude,” the thief scolded.

~~~ Bodyguard ~~~

“Don’t worry,” you said, misinterpreting Neal’s long look at the wire being fastened on the inside of your button-down shirt. “This isn’t my first time.”

It was low-hanging fruit, so to speak, but the joke was impossible to pass on when you were standing there with the top buttons undone. “I’ll still be gentle,” he joked, chuckling when you stuck your tongue out at him.

“I won’t,” you retorted, grinning when he was pleasantly surprised.

With the wire in place, you pulled on a black blazer that you wore open. It looked amazing, framing your waist and hugging your shoulders. He had to remind himself that if he flirted too hard, Peter might send him to the HR department. Not that he was worried, because you weren’t being too shy about your attraction to him, either. Neal was a very handsome man, and you knew he was very smart on top of that. Smart, hot guys were kind of a weakness.

But attraction or a conflict of interest was also a weakness – and that was the type of weakness that you had been trained to avoid. While you worked together, you could be friendly, but professional. When the operation was done, though… you were in different divisions, with different specialties. You didn’t see any reason why you couldn’t offer to take him for coffee once you were done working together. Work just had to come first.

In theory, the operation was a very simple one for you. You just stood slightly behind Neal, looking intimidating and watching his back. Agent Burke didn’t want him to be unprotected, but the odds of Neal actually being attacked were slim, between the FBI’s top-notch forgeries for his fake ID and his proven track record of de-escalation. Still, you looked the part and made sure he had someone. And you were glad that you did, because it turned out that this was one instance where even Neal couldn’t settle the ruffled feathers.

Neal saw from the start that everyone was on edge. It wasn’t the great beginning that he had hoped for, but it was the worse case scenario that he had planned on. He turned up the charm to eleven, settling smoothly into his role as a proud but amicable thief, hoping that if he didn’t act like anything was amiss, neither would the armed men around him. With Y/N behind him, although he wanted to feel safer, he also knew that they were outnumbered – and he would much rather no fight started anyway. Even if you could guarantee his safety, he’d feel awful if anyone were hurt over him.

Unfortunately, the worse scenario turned to the worst. The mark had already decided he didn’t trust Neal, and by extension, didn’t trust you. It didn’t matter how much of a smooth talker anyone was when your guilt was already decided. They looked for reasons to lash out, going as far as to search Neal’s person for a wire. Fortunately, he wasn’t wearing one because the bureau had stuck with the recording counterfeit watch. If it worked, why change it? But he could feel his heart speeding up even as he kept his breath even, knowing that if they didn’t find what they were looking for on him, they would check you next.

“Alright,” Mark snapped, gesturing roughly at Neal to be moved away from the table. The cards were left shuffled but unfinished and Neal gave them a forlorn look as he was yanked away by one of the guards. “Her next.”

The other one had shuffled into place behind you. By the rigid way you’d been standing ever since, Neal knew you were aware. You moved forward before the man had a chance to push you, but you left your jacket on and gave Neal a small look with a simple little nod as if telling him it was okay. Although he knew better than to look nervous, he couldn’t lie to himself that well – not with one gun in sight and finger-shaped bruises forming on his upper arm.

Mark made the other guard take your jacket off from behind. You forced your shoulders to stay down and not look defensive. It also served the double purpose of not telegraphing your move before you made it. Just before Mark started patting you down, you whirled around, kicking your leg out and striking him in the groin. While he involuntarily went backwards while doubling over, you delivered a hard strike to the guard’s face with one hand and went straight for his gun with the other. In maybe five seconds, you had a firm grip on the weapon and were stepping away from both men, bringing the gun up to the other guard.

As soon as the guard behind Neal realized what was happening, he’d hurriedly let go of the con artist and gone for his own sidearm. “Y/N!” Neal yelled in warning, throwing himself against the guard to throw off his aim.

A bullet fired, but lodged itself firmly in the wall. The puffed loudly at being shoved aside and turned the gun back to Neal. Now you were pissed. You took a shot as the guard did. Another side of the room let out a crack from a stray bullet, his aim thrown – again – this time by your shot to his arm. He dropped the gun and Neal, who’d doubled over holding onto his arm, hurriedly scrambled to cover the grip with his shoe.

“You okay?” You barked, rushing to him and hurriedly taking the gun up from the ground. You put the safety back on, tucked it in your empty holster, and put an arm in front of Neal, ushering the thief gently back towards the wall to have a more defensible point. By now, you were sure that backup was rushing in.

“It grazed me,” Neal hissed, turning to look at his arm. The sleeve was ripped and a two-inch stripe over his arm was raw pink speckled with red. You took it in during just a glance and dropped your shoulders again, relieved.

“I’ve seen much worse grazes,” you said reassuringly, but scolded, “You shouldn’t have gotten in the way. I had it handled.”

Neal grimaced, replaying it in his head. You’d already been looking at the guard before he slammed his body into the man. He’d been so focused on the gun being raised towards you that, at the time, he hadn’t processed that you already had yours levelled at the man. You would’ve gotten the shot off first, and neither of you would’ve ended up hurt if Neal hadn’t jumped in in a momentary panic. When he did, you hadn’t had a clear shot until the guard was already aiming at him.

“My bad,” he said pointedly, pushing his elbow out as if to remind you of the graze. It burned fiercely.

~~~ Bodyguard ~~~

“I gave you a bodyguard specifically so this wouldn’t happen,” Peter complained when he had Neal sitting down. He didn’t seem to care that Neal’s seat was the back of an EMT van while a man quickly but carefully disinfected his arm.

“She was outnumbered,” Neal said defensively. He already felt bad enough, but he’d genuinely feared for her life at the time. “I was trying to help.”

“Next time help by trusting our professionals to do our jobs,” Peter rebuked. His eyes softened when Neal looked away from him. “This was too close,” he said more gently. “The worst outcome of a case is one where my people don’t come back in one piece. I know you were trying to help, but this is what she was trained for. I wouldn’t send you in with someone who couldn’t manage… I’m glad you’re okay.”

Neal looked up reluctantly and saw nothing but sympathy and concern in Peter’s eyes, so he drew himself up a bit and nodded understanding. “Thanks,” he said quietly, and then dismissed the sentimentality of their exchange by complaining, “No one ever said how much this hurts.”

“Pain is a good teacher,” Peter said dryly. “Don’t do it again.”

After checking with the EMT that Neal didn’t need a hospital after Neal himself turned down the offer of a ride, Peter gave him a pat on his uninjured side and went back to the agents cleaning up the crime scene. He’d barely been gone a minute when you came to join Neal, hands in your pockets, stolen weapons surrendered.

“You did good,” you said with a small smile. “I appreciated your intent. I’d call it a learning opportunity.”

“Yeah, consider it learned,” Neal sighed. He was also going to hear about this from Jones and Diana, without a doubt. “Thanks for having my back.”

“It’s what I’m here for,” you said courteously. It was hard not to point out that if he’d been alone, they wouldn’t have found a wire and a fight wouldn’t have had to happen. Still, the fact that they’d been itching for a reason made you glad he hadn’t gone alone. “I guess they’re arrested for shooting at us.”

“The exact things we wanted access to were in the office,” Neal said, summarizing Peter’s initial glee when he’d arrived. As he did, the EMT put a light dressing on his arm. “By making it a crime scene, we got legal access to everything. They practically built our case for us, and got more charges against them.”

“I guess the case is basically over, then,” you said with a cheery smile. “That means I can ask you out for coffee. Ill-advised or not, trying to save my life was rather attractive.”

Neal chuckled, moving his elbow back to his side and standing up. “I’d love to get coffee, though I hope I didn’t just set too high a bar for myself.”

“You absolutely did,” you teased.

~~~

A/N: I’m still working on the NCAC sequel, but I wanted to get something out sooner than later, so I made this. I hope you enjoy :) Don’t forget to comment or send a message if you want to be added to this blog’s Discord server!

#white collar #white collar x reader #lawmen and conmen #oneshot #bodyguard #fluff #casefic #reader #reader insert #second person #neal caffrey #neal caffrey x reader #peter burke #fic

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swissmissficrecs · 1 year

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Word count: 9,503 Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: Sherlock (TV) Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Sherlock Holmes/John Watson Characters: John Watson, Sherlock Holmes, Original Characters Additional Tags: Italy, World Travel, It's For a Case, Declarations Of Love, Restaurants, Spring, Boys Kissing, Mentioned Mrs Hudson, Alternate Timelines, No Reichenbach here! Summary:

Italy in the springtime is as romantic as it gets but is it enough to free unspoken words and feelings after years of silence?

======

Rec: I wasn’t sure what to expect from the summary and tags, but this is a casefic set several years -- perhaps a decade or even more -- after Sherlock and John met, when they are still working and living together, not estranged as the “years of silence” might suggest. There is no reference to major canon events (Reichenbach, Mary, etc.) but it could still be read as taking place some time after series 4, without mention of Rosie.

So, having said all that, this is just a beautiful, gentle story that basically brings these two full circle in a mirror image of their night at Angelos. All with gorgeous descriptions that transport the reader right into the midst of these enchanting surroundings.

A reflective, restorative, resplendent feast for the heart and the senses.

#berty #under 10k #first time #travel #casefic #romance #fluff

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danascullysjournal · 10 months

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If You Will Let Me

X-Files Post-Milagro Fic Chapter 21: Help

TW: references to demonic activity, mild references to injuries, hospital setting. Author’s Note: Eternal thanks to each of you who are following <3 This chapter is part of a larger work on AO3. As AO3 is currently down, this work and preceding chapters are all searchable under #If You Will Let Me

____________________

The phone finally ceased its insistent ringing as the machine clicked, taking over.

It beeped angrily. The signal of a disconnected line, a wasted call. Anyone who was not privy to knowing about the safety precautions would take it as such, hang up and move on.

After two solid minutes, the beeping stopped. The silence was brief before a familiar voice began to speak.

“Guys, it’s me. I’m at Memorial Hospital. Please come, it’s important.”

There was a muffled, clattering shuffle as the receiver fumbled over the phone cradle, finally coming to rest with a plastic clack.

The recorder clicked itself off. Silence fell over the room, interrupted only by the whirring of computer fans.

Dim morning light dusted itself sparingly across shelving and computer towers. The message replayed as the men stood in anxious silence.

Byers eyed the other two men. His face was grim.

Langly scrunched his nose, skeptical. “You think someone put him up to it?”

Byers shook his head.

“Not Mulder,” Frohike was quiet, but resolved. “He wouldn’t do that. But he knows not to just ask us to come out like that.” He drummed his fingers on the desk in front of him.

Langly stood, adjusting his glasses. “He could be hurt, can’t come here himself. But why call us, why not Scully?”

The men were quiet for a moment, considering.

Frohike broke the silence. “It has to be bad.” He sighed. “Well. Let’s go bail his ass out.”

____________________

Mulder’s clumsy hand made a few vain attempts before it figured out how to hang up the phone next to his hospital bed.

Abby helped to readjust his pillows and offered a supportive smile. “You got through?”

“Yeah. They’ll get it.”

He sighed. He was certain they would hear his message, but coming to visit during the day in a very public place? That was asking a lot from men whose lives depended on secrecy and anonymity. He could only hope.

The nurse stared at him for a long moment. “Well. If your friends come, I’ve already notified the nurses’ station on her floor. They’ll be expecting someone. But if anything goes wrong…”

“If anything goes wrong, I forced you. Threatened you. Whatever. Say what you need to say. Make sure it doesn’t ruin your future.” Mulder was used to being blamed. He could think of no reason to take the full fall that was nobler than protecting Scully. He would do it a hundred times over.

“Yeah.” Abby’s lips were twisted in a strange, nervous line. “And you’re sure… this thing, whatever it is, it’s not here. It won’t…” Her voice faded.

“Come for you?”

She nodded weakly.

“No. I can’t guarantee it’s not here… but it won’t come for you. I don’t know why, but it doesn’t… It doesn’t want anyone else.” He stared vacantly out the window at the clouded, deep indigo of early dawn. “Just us. He just wants us.”

Her lips were turned, brow furrowed. She cleared her throat and started for the door.

“I have to go, but I’ll be back before my shift ends. As often as I can.”

He offered a small, grateful smile.

She raised her eyebrows. “Of course, Beth will be coming in too, ya know.”

“Oh good, she’s my favorite.”

Abby rolled her eyes and grinned. As she left, her soft laugh danced through the doorway.

He blinked slowly, then moved his unfocused eyes toward the blanched, pockmarked ceiling tiles above him. Though his system was dutifully purging the chemicals from his veins, he still felt heavy. Drained. His focus wavered. His glassy eyes drifted closed.

_____________________

A knock at the open doorway snapped Mulder’s eyes open, and his gaze settled on a familiar, ragtag group of three mismatched men. One wore a well cut beard and a suit to match. The other two wore baseball caps and track suits, attempting to blend in. It had quite the opposite effect of what they intended. Mulder winced as he sat up in an attempt to greet them.

He was immediately under interrogation.

Langly blinked through his thick framed glasses. “What put you in the hospital this time? You do look like hell- what happened to your face? And you’re really pale- is it vampires again?”

Frohike stepped forward, his eyes squinted in faux clinical analysis. “Yeah, you look even worse than usual.”

Mulder began to grin, but stopped abruptly at the tight, painful pull of newly healing skin. “Thanks, Melvin. I missed you, too.”

Near the doorway, Byers pressed his lips together, holding in his amusement.

“You owe us, ya know.” Frohike huffed and crossed his arms. “Landline contact from a very public facility, plus demanding we come into said public facility.”

“Demanding? Hardly. Dramatic today, aren’t we?”

Frohike ignored him. “You put us at serious risk, my friend. Not to mention, we are putting some highly sensitive research on standby for you right now.”

Langly nodded, his long blonde hair nodding with him, and spoke in an enthusiastic whisper. “It’s true, Mulder, you would find it fascinating. I can’t go into specifics here- obviously - but it has to do with the Bermuda Triangle and advanced technology.” His eyes were wide with excitement.

Mulder shook his head, immediately regretting it from the way the room began spinning. “No... no. I’ve had enough of the Bermuda Triangle to last me a while. But I’m okay, mostly. I called you guys for Scully. Not me.”

“We wondered. Usually you call her. You calling us was a big red flag.” Frohike’s face grew more serious. “Is she okay?”

“Boy you don’t care about me at all, do you?”

Frohike shrugged. “Not as much as her. No.”

Mulder nodded. He understood perfectly. Scully meant more to him than anything on this cursed planet, yet here he was, tied down by IV tubing and kept from knowing anything about her.

“Fair. Well first of all, you need to know that they won’t tell me about her, won’t let me see her. Some of the people here think I did something to hurt her- and I didn’t.”

Frohike’s eyes narrowed. “Did you do something on accident?”

“No! Absolutely not.”

“Jeez man, just asking.”

The slumped shoulders and the angry, pained look in Mulder’s eyes were enough to silence any more sarcasm.

He rubbed a hand over his forehead, down to rest on the bridge of his nose, and heaved a deep sigh. “I have been trying so damn hard to keep her safe… and I can’t.” His confession whispered through his lips, and he felt himself break at the admission of his own impotence. Uttering it aloud somehow made all of his attempts to protect her seem pathetic. “I need you, and so does she.”

Langly adjusted his glasses and moved to the bedside, focused solely on helping the battered, frustrated man before him. “You know us, Mulder. Anything you need, we’ll do.”

Mulder nodded slowly, composing himself. There was too much at stake for his volatile emotions to win. Not now.

“This won’t make sense, and we don’t have time for me to explain. There are demons that want us both. Lots of them.” Mulder wondered at himself. He had lived it, and yet it sounded insane even to him. “It began with Scully, but somehow I’m part of it, too. They’ve… claimed us. I can’t think of a better way to explain it. Claimed her… and if we don’t figure out how to stop it…she’s…” He didn’t finish the thought. He couldn’t.

The Gunmen looked at each other, faces grim.

“Tell us how we can help.” The voice Byers used was quiet and calm, but he rocked his body back and forth behind the other two in an unconscious, nervous rhythm.

Mulder offered the best smile he could. It was miniscule.

“Thank you, guys.” He drew a breath. “Well, we need information, and I can’t help until I’m released from this stupid room.”

“No problem, finding information is our specialty.” Langly offered a genuine, reassuring smile.

“I know.” Mulder felt his spirits rise slightly. “I need you guys to find out everything you can about Phillip Padgett. He was an author, and was part of our case last week. He was somehow able to write things that came true. He’s responsible for the deaths of at least three people- and tried to kill Scully.”

Frohike sputtered, furious. “That bastard! You caught him, right?”

“He’s dead.”

“Oh. Well, that takes care of that.”

Mulder’s lips were drawn in a thin line. “It should. But I’m not sure. Scully definitely thinks he’s part of this, somehow.”

Langly squinted at Mulder quizzically through his black frames. “How can a dead guy be part of what’s happening to Scully? Do you think he faked his death?”

“Could be. But Scully performed the autopsy… and she was pretty, uh, familiar with his face.” Mulder felt his stomach clench at the memory of Scully sitting on Padgett’s bed, so close to him. “I need you to get all the details you can find, Langly. Anything about him. Where he was from, where his ability to write things could have come from… and if that body is still in the morgue. And we also need information on the area surrounding Laroy, Illinois. Any paranormal activity, missing person files… anything that can help us figure out what we’re dealing with.”

“Can do.”

“Now you guys,” Mulder directed his attention to Frohike and Byers. “I need you here. This is gonna sound insane, but… Well, when we are alone, the demons seem to have access to us. I don’t really understand it, but that’s how it seems to work. It’s like… something has us… marked.” He swallowed hard. “I’ve seen them almost take her. Me being there doesn’t help, I’m just more food for them. But last night, in her apartment, the police came for a disturbance call, and-”

Frohike interrupted. “Well, what were you two doing?” He waggled his eyebrows.

Mulder pointedly ignored him. “They were everywhere, and… in us. I know this doesn’t make sense, but when the men came through the door, everything stopped. The demons have the ability, almost like permission, to attack us. But when other people- other souls- are there, they can’t do what they want. Or can’t complete what they begin. So they leave.”

The concept of souls, of some eternal aspect of self, had always seemed odd to Mulder. Somewhat contrived and self important. It was a way for mankind to believe they had a larger supposed worth. Yet now, he found himself at a loss for any other explanation. It was terrifying. Yet the thought of an eternal piece of himself existing with Scully, somehow… he found himself desperate for that aspect to be real.

“I know you guys like to work together, but we really need you to split up and keep us from being alone. Otherwise… well, we might not be here for much longer.”

The men nodded, though their faces were reluctant. Being stuck in a hospital room with no special equipment and no defined ending time sounded torturous.

“You,” Mulder nodded to Byers. “I need you to be Scully’s protection. Make sure she isn’t alone. And let me know how she is, if you can.”

Frohike balked, his mouth agape. “What? How does he get that assignment?” He waved his hand at Byers dismissively, who stood awkward between them, attempting to avoid eye contact. “What makes Byers the guy for the job, when I-” He stopped himself short.

Mulder’s thin smile returned. “When you what, Melvin?”

“Phhh. Nothing.”

“Byers is the most normal looking, disarming guy in this room. No offense, but you and Langly stick out of any crowd. Even with your sexy tracksuits. We need Byers to be Scully’s brother… someone who could get medical information, who could stay with her. Someone the medical staff wouldn’t question. Besides,” Mulder’s smirk returned. “I’ve missed you, Melvin. I thought we could spend some quality time together. Maybe even cuddle.”

Frohike shook his head. “You’re an ass.”

____________________

Golden light glimmered through the windowpanes, flashing off the metal railings and IV stand in a blinding glare. The walls, pillows, blankets, even the pale wooden doors were illuminated by morning light that shone unnaturally. Propped up with pillows in the glaringly white bed, Scully rested, half conscious. Auburn hair splayed tousled and tangled around her head, and waffled strips of sterile white gauze wrapped expertly around sections of her arms.

When she finally attempted to open her eyes, she was blinded by the glow that filled the space before her. Pieces of her body burned, but everything around her was feather light. Peaceful. It was a calm, silent space. She took a deep, contented breath, nuzzling her head further into her pillow, only to feel a sharp sting on the back of her scalp.

She groaned and reached behind her cranium, fingers settling on a bandage. On shaved skin. She startled. Why hadn’t she noticed before? She began frantically feeling the rest of her head for hair. Her fingers combed through strand after tangled strand, and her quickened pulse slowed.

She blinked, heaved a sigh, and looked down dully at the bandages on her forearms. She hadn’t noticed them the night before, either. From the glass on her floor, she realized. Turning her arms over before her, she wondered absently how many shards they had to extract from her epidermis, how many had pierced deeper, and how many new scars she would wear now, this side of heaven.

She let her eyelids drift closed, attempting to quell her dismal thoughts. It occurred to her that when one is so lacerated and abused, the scar tissue takes over and the softer, unmarred flesh is barely visible, but hidden and safe underneath.

Her heart felt that way now. She loathed it.

A knock at the doorway rattled her.

“Agent Dana Scully? You’re awake.”

A young police officer stepped a few feet into the room, squinting at the brilliant light. He attempted a polite smile.

“Yeah. I’m awake.” She looked him over, trying to place him. He stood tall and lean, with sandy brown hair, freckles, and a face yet to be worn down. He looked no older than 25, she guessed. Though she prided herself on remembering details, this face escaped her. Her stomach clenched.

“Have we met, Officer…?”

“Matt Harris.” He smiled again. “We haven’t actually met, no. I responded to a call about a disturbance at your residence. I asked the doctor to notify me when you were alert so I could ask you a few questions.”

“Oh.” She looked down at her bandages once more.

Officer Harris took another step into the room. “It’s okay, Dana. You’re safe here. We just want to know how this happened so we can keep it from happening again. I have a few questions, they won’t take long. Is it alright for me to ask you a few things? Do you feel well enough for that?”

Scully frowned, but caught and held his gaze. He seemed to be a real person, but her fingers found the “call nurse” button that lay next to her on the bed.

As if a nurse could do anything to a demon.

She was familiar with these interviews, and the very notion that some stranger could consider her a victim in that sense made her smolder. There was no word, no feeling she despised more. Besides, she couldn’t tell anyone the truth. Not the police officer. Certainly not the medical staff. At best, they would assume she was lying to protect someone. At worst, she would be held for psychiatric evaluation.

“I… I really don’t feel up to questions, Officer Harris. But thank you.” She offered a superficial smile.

Shifting in place, the young officer looked indecisively toward the door, then back to her. “Well… could you let me know, was anyone else in the apartment with you, Ms. Scully? Did you let anyone in, or did anyone force their way in, or…”

Her forced grin fell off her face. There was nothing she could offer him, truthfully, that would answer his questions. She sighed, weary.

“Listen. I appreciate this, I really do. But I’m fine. My partner, well, my friend was with me, but he wouldn’t hurt me. Ever. There wasn’t anyone else that I remember being there.”

The lie tasted bitter on her tongue. She supposed, though, that a spirit didn’t technically count as another person. Physically at least.

Officer Harris raised an eyebrow, then cleared his throat. “You said ‘that you remember.’ What do you mean?”

“At some point in the early morning… I became unconscious.” She knew how it sounded, and winced internally at the judgment she saw on his face. “I’m tired, officer. I really just want to rest.”

He frowned to himself, scratching a note on his notepad. “If you happen to remember anything else, please get in touch.” He walked to her bedside, placed a card on the table, and stared down at her. His eyes were serious. “But off record, Ms. Scully, I suggest you and your friend stop fraternizing if it ends like this.”

Her face was stone. “There is nothing else. Agent Mulder had nothing to do with what happened to me. And if I do have any more details, I won’t be calling you, because off record, Officer Harris, I have observed many well done victim interviews.” She glared up at him. “This wasn’t one of them.”

He blinked, turned abruptly and left.

The condescending tone in his voice had reminded her too much of Kersh. She slumped back into the hospital bed, furious, but too exhausted to do anything about it.

Almost against her will at first, she felt herself beginning to drift back to sleep, and chose not to fight it. The darkness wasn’t here. It wasn’t here.

But before she could fully succumb, another knock sounded loudly at her doorway. She jolted awake.

“Ms. Scully?” A nurse with a kind face and bright, cartooned kitten scrubs peeked in. “I’m sorry to disturb you, hun, but your brother is here to see you. I can send him away if you’d rather not have company.”

Scully blinked. Who had called Bill? And if Bill was here, her mother wouldn’t be too far behind. She groaned inwardly, but forced a small smile.

“Sure, yeah. He can come in, I’m awake.” She tried to sit up a bit, to look less battered. She was certain, with her bandages and her hollowed eyes, she looked not unlike Lazarus. Bill would be furious to see her like this.

A well dressed, bearded man stepped through the doorway. He offered an awkward grin, and an equally awkward wink.

“Hey, sis. I heard you’re feeling bad, and you could use some company.” Byers walked across the room to the chair by her bedside. “I came as soon as I could.”

“You two have a good chat, Ms. Scully,” the nurse called. “Press the button if you need anything at all.” Her footsteps retreated down the hospital hallway.

Byers leaned in, attempting to be quiet but reassuring. “Mulder sent me. He told us what happened. I’m your personal bodyguard, I think. For now anyway.”

Scully smiled. “Thanks.” She cleared her throat. “So, is he…” she trailed off, glancing down at her bandaged arms.

“Oh, he’s okay. He’s okay.” Byers’s face was sincere. “He just can’t come see you right now, but he’s just on the next floor down.”

“They hurt him again.” Scully’s tired eyes grew wet, in spite of herself. “It’s not going to stop.”

“No, it’s going to be okay. Really.” Byers cleared his throat and patted his hand on hers. It was painfully evident that he had little experience in comforting another human, but she appreciated the effort. “The guys are taking care of it. And Mulder. And I’m here taking care of you. We’re going to figure this out.”

She nodded. A tired grin graced her lips for a brief moment, then darted away. “Tell me how he is. Please.” She felt her desperation rising to the surface. “I just.. I want to see him. I need to see him.”

“Soon,” Byers promised. “But you should rest. Mulder’s okay. I’m sure he’ll be released soon. He seemed ready to leave his hospital bed immediately to come find you.”

She breathed a soft laugh. “Mm. Typical Mulder.”

“He’s safe. And so are you.”

She scoffed inwardly.

“You don’t have to stay, you know.” She carefully adjusted her head on the pillow. “I’m going to sleep. I’ll be fine.” She wondered at the last three words. How often she had lied them.

Byers leaned forward. His face was suddenly very serious. “I won’t leave. Mulder said you can’t be alone.”

She would have folded her arms, were it not for the IV tubing and painful sutures. She settled for a skeptical glare.

“I wasn’t alone. He was at my house and they… they came anyway.” The memory of Mulder’s face twisting, melting into the hollow, haunting visage of Padgett made her stomach suddenly sick. “He tried to stop it. He couldn’t.”

____________________

“Mulder, you’re not gonna believe this.” Langly’s excited voice greeted the men from the doorway.

“I hope it’s good news.” Mulder tried to smile.

“Sure. Good news you aren’t on my missing persons list.”

Mulder and Frohike glanced at each other.

Papers rustled in Langly’s hands as he walked toward the bed.

“I dug into the small town in Illinois first, and a Philip Padgett was actually listed as a resident of the Laroy area in the last two censuses- and since he was listed as a minor there, I traced the family back. Before they moved, he lived in Springfield, Missouri. They moved when he was around seven, and his mother left soon after. Just disappeared. She’s one of sixty-eight people listed as missing from the Laroy area over the past thirty years. Not all from that town, but most are from the same county. They seem to be grouped into clusters, three here, five here. I’ve organized the disappearances chronologically and listed the dates for you.”

He placed the papers on Mulder’s lap.

“Anything specific about Padgett? We couldn’t find any criminal record. Or friends. Or family.”

Langly shook his head. “Nothing. All his rentals have been in his name alone. The only time spent away from Laroy was his time in college at Illinois State University. English and language arts major, minor in religious studies. No surviving family. His father died two years ago. Looks like he moved to DC shortly after that.”

Mulder chewed his lip in thought.

“I went ahead and printed all his former addresses. His last one was in your building. Crazy!”

Mulder grimaced. “I know. It wasn’t a coincidence, he planned it.” He continued to flip through the pages, slowly studying the new information. So many missing people. So many lost souls.

“You have been a busy bee haven’t you?” Frohike teased.

“Doing my best while you sit on your ass with Mulder all day.” Langly turned his attention back to his wounded friend. “I’ll have to check for the body when they finally bail you out. I can break into places, I can get you full family histories and social security numbers, but overriding morgue security and breaking in solo… even I can’t do that.”

Frohike put his hand over his heart. “Ah, it’s good to be needed, isn’t it, Mulder?”

Mulder did not respond. The color had drained from his face.

“Mulder?” Langly stepped closer. “What is it?”

Mulder’s eyes were trained on the page of Padgett’s former addresses. Washington, D.C. Normal, Illinois. Laroy.

“This address. 1650 Hainsville Road.” His voice was tight. “You sure he lived here?”

Langly nodded.

“That address… is the one that Scully tried to take us to. We ended up at a farmhouse. With demons.”

The Gunmen looked at each other. The afternoon sunlight was tainted by uncomfortable silence.

Frohike sucked a breath and spoke. “But… how would Scully know his old address?”

Mulder’s pupils were laser focused, burning a hole through the paper.

“I don’t think she did,” he said quietly. “I think… she said what he wanted her to say.” His mind was reeling, his stomach twisted.

“I don’t understand,” Langly said, regret evident in his voice.

“Have you ever wanted something so bad, you would do anything to get it?” As Mulder spoke, his words were chalk in his mouth. Eyes unfocused, brow heavy with sickened understanding. “What if… what if Padgett found a way to do just that? What if he made some supernatural attempt, some bargain to get who he wanted?”

“You meant what,” Frohike said.

Mulder shook his head, slow. Afraid. “Not what. Who. He wants Scully.”

_____________________

#TW: medical situation #txf #x files fanfic #txf fanfic #msr #If You Will Let Me #casefic #txf casefic #TW: demons #TW: reference to demons #mulder and scully #Scully and Mulder #Fox Mulder #Dana Scully #Lone Gunmen #the lone gunmen

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