Challenge #9 Rare Pairs
Title: games
Author: giantessmess
Pairing: Tracey Kibre/Dana Scully
Rating: PG-13
Words: 2,000
Summary/timeline: Scully is post season nine (and therefore, post X-files). Set around and after Eros in the upper Eighties.
NB: apologies, it's Scully-centric for a tbj fic. I promise to rectify the damage done to Tracey/Kelly with some nice fluff for another challenge ;)
She and her sister used to have competitions. They were really only Melissa’s idea of fun. But being naïve. Being the younger one, she wanted so much to be like her.
“Ok, Dana, list the number of cities you’ve been to.”
“You already know how many.”
Melissa rolled her eyes.
“Fine, then list the number of boys you’ve kissed in those cities.”
“Melissa.”
Melissa always won. Even after she started college, Scully still had to face the ridiculous game. Sheepishly, she wished she was more the adventurous type.
“Ok, list the cities you’ve fucked in.”
Scully rolled her eyes, and flicked the page of her book.
“Well, I’m sure you’re going to list them.”
“God, Dana. You’re such a prude.”
Scully would sigh. “Boston, D.C, Cape Cod…”
“Cape Cod isn’t a city.”
“It counts,” Scully muttered.
“When?”
“You were a senior, in high school.”
“What? When? You were what, fourteen?”
Scully shrugged. “I hate this game.”
“Why didn’t you tell me? Who?”
“Look, this paper’s due next week….”
“Oh my god, who? That Blakemore kid…Jake? No…he was gay, wasn’t he?”
Scully had already turned her attention back to the book she was taking quotations out of.
“This is why I don’t like to tell you things, Melissa.”
“No.” Melissa’s eyes widened. “Lisa? No…not Lisa from up the street?”
“I’m not talking about this.”
“You lost your virginity to a girl?”
Melissa always ran off somewhere different. A new guy, then the city would change, the boyfriend would change. New York rated highly with her.
“You haven’t fucked until you’ve done it in New York.”
“Jesus, Melissa.”
“Just an observation.”
And now she was dead. She’d been dead for over ten years. And Scully still found herself playing that game, in different variations. List the number of places you’ve feared for your life. The number of places you’ve questioned your belief system. The number of places you lost track of the person you thought you were.
Suddenly, listing sexual conquests seemed so much simpler.
She hadn’t really visited New York. She rarely did anything purely for its enjoyment factor. It always involved cases. Following at Mulder’s heels. Vacations were rarely just that. But now she had nothing to examine. No case to solve. Just places to run to, one after the other, until the world finally ended. She’d become Melissa. And even though the idea filled her with an intense amount of pain, it comforted her to think her sister was somehow lying with her, in all of those unfamiliar motel beds.
They’d wanted to give Mulder the death penalty. Even after all the crap they’d suffered, they’d lost eachother, anyway. Other people filled the void. It stopped mattering who, as long as she didn’t have to be alone. As long as she didn’t have to think about Mulder and where on earth he could be. Or about William, who wasn’t even hers to begin with.
New York was different, without her badge, her ‘government exempt’ parking sticker on her car. Her sense of safety.
She worked sporadically. As a waitress, or anything that kept her under their radar. When she became braver, she ventured back into the circles of the law, feeling like she might as well set herself on fire, but craving it all the same. It was somewhere below the position where all you do is make coffee. It paid badly, but it was the least obvious job the DA’s office had.
Brunettes always reminded her of Diana Fowley, now. But she should have known better than to compare Tracey Kibre with that snake of a woman.
Initialy, all she did was stare at the EADA, like she’d never seen dancer’s legs before. But she began to linger in her office for longer than she should have.
Tracey was Furrowing her brow, reading an open folder.
“Damn Voycheck, playing the hero card for all it’s worth.”
Scully’s mouth ran away from her. “I’m sure he’ll trip himself up on the stand. On the news, he looks so nervous. I don’t trust him.”
Tracey turned, looking confused. Still, she smiled.
“You don’t trust him.”
Scully shrugged. “I’m just certain he’ll purger himself.”
Tracey flipped the file shut. “You know a lot about the law for someone paid to empty the garbage.”
“I watch cop shows.”
Tracey smirked, and dropped another empty coffee cup into the trash bin Scully has just emptied.
“Witness protection?”
Scully wondered if it was that obvious that she was hiding from something. Tracey cocked her head, like she hoped her assumption was incorrect, but doubted the likelihood.
“You might call it that.” Scully fished the cup out of the trash can, and threw it in the bin-liner she was holding.
“I’m Tracey Kibre.”
“I know who you are.”
She could even faintly remember a few cases this woman had second-chaired - badly-disguised X-files that were prosecuted on a technicality. Mulder had initially been so smug, then later infuriated, that the truth could only be paraded in front of the jury on the basis of a lie.
“I didn’t think my reputation preceded me that much.”
Scully shrugged. “I must frequent the same places your interns do.”
“Interns, sure.” Tracey gestured to a spare seat. “Are you due for a break?”
Scully didn’t answer.
“You don’t have to tell me your name. I’m not a total idiot.”
“Melissa,” Scully braced herself, reiterating what she’d written on the job application. “Melissa Williams.” Not that changing names would make her any harder to track. But then, they were after Mulder, more than her.
“How long have you worked here, Melissa?”
“A…month. Possibly less.”
“You look familiar.”
“Look, I have a lot of offices to go through before lunch.”
“Can I take you to lunch, then?”
Scully viewed her suspiciously. “Sure…ok.”
Tracey was too perceptive for her own good. Her gaze scrutinized Scully, when they found a table.
“I’m not sure what your intentions are, Ms. Kibre-”
“It’s Tracey.”
“Fine. Tracey.”
“Look, Melissa. I can help you.”
Scully still felt a slight cringe being called by a first name. Even though technically, it wasn’t hers. She forced her voice to sound calm.
“Where's the waiter? The service here's terrible.”
Tracey’s eyes widened in a disbelieving smile. “You’ve been working at the DA’s office for longer than a month.”
“I haven’t.”
Tracey met her eyes. “I could swear that I’ve seen you.”
Scully shifted uncomfortably. “I’m afraid that’s an unfounded assumption. I’m just a cleaner. I’m not even from New York.”
“Oh, no one’s really from New York.”
She wished she could disguise her delight at Tracey having recognized her. She wished she wasn’t silently counting up lists, one after the other, to make this moment allowable.
Tracey nodded, but it wasn’t in agreement.
“A cleaner, with an encyclopedic knowledge of the legal system.”
“What? I wouldn’t say encyclopedic.” But she found herself smiling, her lips parted slightly.
“A lawyer. You were a lawyer?”
“No,” Scully said, simply.
“I know someone. She’s in a situation somewhat similar to yours-”
“Define somewhat.”
“I just thought you could use a friend.”
Scully was about to protest, but she stopped herself.
“Thanks,” she raised her eyebrows, “Really. Thank you. But you don’t know me. And trust me, you don’t want to.”
“Jesus, is that a dare?”
“No it’s not a dare.” Scully wasn’t able to repress a slight smile.
“Well, what would you think? A beautiful woman, gazing through your office window for over a month. Then suddenly, she gains a little more mystery?”
“I’ve had it with mystery.”
“But you’re still happy having me compliment you?”
Scully shrugged, but her heart had sped up a little. Tracey’s hand was tracing hers.
“Melissa, the next time you walk past my office, please do more than just stare.”
Scully learned to work slower when she neared Tracey Kibre’s office. She learned that Tracey’s mouth tasted like morning coffees. They kissed outside of the restaurant. And up against Tracey’s desk, the edge cutting into Scully’s back, her hands still dirty from her work.
“Your assistant’s due back soon.”
“Shit.” Tracey would pull away.
“I take it you want to look your best for Ms. Gaffney,” Scully raised an eyebrow.
“She bats for the other team,” Tracey muttered, reapplying her lipstick.
“I’ve sat in the public gallery. You should see her expression when you’re cross-examining. Better, if it’s a hostile witness.”
Tracey just smirked to herself. “You really aren’t a lawyer?”
“Still not.”
“Your lipstick’s smudged,”
“It doesn’t matter.”
Tracey had her own lists. Who was Melissa Williams? Scully wondered if she’d stared a file on her. The thought filled her with no small amount of panic.
“Defense Attorney?”
“No.”
“Private investigator?”
“No.”
“Detective, then.”
“No.”
“What about a doctor?”
Scully wouldn’t tell her about the FBI, the months teaching medicine at Quantico, the missing time she still hadn’t recovered.
But she told her about her sister. And the game.
“Places you’ve fucked? Nice.”
“Yeah, she could turn a colorful phrase.”
“Well, you have New York now. Cross it off.”
“It’s wearing a dent in my list.”
Tracey smiled into Scully’s skin.
“Your sister’s name was Dana?”
Scully flinched. “It was. She’s dead.”
“You must miss her.”
“I don’t even know where to start.”
Tracey was kissing her at the base of her neck, tasting her scar, as if it would tell her the secrets Scully refused to divulge.
They’d been messing around for that awkward time period. Too long to still count as casual, not long enough for anything else. And Scully was a realist. Unfortunately, so was Tracey.
“What about your future? You’re just going to, what? Clean forever?”
Scully looked away. “It’s good enough for now.”
“Well, you empty garbage.”
“I don’t attack your profession, Tracey.”
“Are you saying my work is garbage?”
“I’m saying,” Scully glared. “That your job doesn’t afford you any more smugness than mine. Just a better paycheck.”
“Well, I don’t doubt that.”
Scully wished she’d moved on. Wished she’d fled to another city. A dead town. Gone in search for Mulder. But she couldn’t pull herself away.
“Look, what if…” She swallowed, and felt Tracey edge closer. “What if there is no future?”
Tracey furrowed her brow and smiled uncertainly. “What….what does that mean?”
“Do you think it matters if I pass my time cleaning offices? All this? There’s only a few years left.”
“What?”
“There’s nothing you can do. Believe me, I tried. he tried.”
Tracey pulled back. “Are you feeling sick?”
“Are you listening to me? The world’s going to end.”
Tracey felt her forehead. “Feverish,” she muttered.
Scully jerked away, but was steadied by Tracey’s hand. God, what would it feel like to just rest, for once?
Tracey was rubbing her shoulders. “You really freak me out, sometimes.”
Scully shook her head in protest, but didn’t say anything.
“Melissa?”
Scully felt herself nod.
“You can trust me. I’m not an imbecile. Whatever it is, you can tell me.”
Scully wanted to laugh.
“Of course you don’t believe me.”
“It’s just... Your name…”
“It isn’t Melissa.”
“No.” Tracey’s hands paused for a second. “I know that.”
“Melissa’s good enough for now, as well.”
Scully was supposed to be the sensible one. The realist who weighed her options carefully, before digging her own grave. It didn’t take a genius to think this through. She needed to get away from Tracey Kibre, from anything resembling a government agency. But no matter how she rationalized it - the amount of times she packed her things, spent all her money on a train ticket - she never made it beyond the outer suburbs, before she changed lines and ended up back in the apartment of a woman who would never know her.
It didn’t matter anymore, that Mulder had surely been caught by now. That Monica probably thought she was dead. All that counted in the end was Tracey’s lips against her skin, and the way she murmured Melissa, giving that lie enough truth to make up for anything that might happen the morning after.
Author: giantessmess
Pairing: Tracey Kibre/Dana Scully
Rating: PG-13
Words: 2,000
Summary/timeline: Scully is post season nine (and therefore, post X-files). Set around and after Eros in the upper Eighties.
NB: apologies, it's Scully-centric for a tbj fic. I promise to rectify the damage done to Tracey/Kelly with some nice fluff for another challenge ;)
She and her sister used to have competitions. They were really only Melissa’s idea of fun. But being naïve. Being the younger one, she wanted so much to be like her.
“Ok, Dana, list the number of cities you’ve been to.”
“You already know how many.”
Melissa rolled her eyes.
“Fine, then list the number of boys you’ve kissed in those cities.”
“Melissa.”
Melissa always won. Even after she started college, Scully still had to face the ridiculous game. Sheepishly, she wished she was more the adventurous type.
“Ok, list the cities you’ve fucked in.”
Scully rolled her eyes, and flicked the page of her book.
“Well, I’m sure you’re going to list them.”
“God, Dana. You’re such a prude.”
Scully would sigh. “Boston, D.C, Cape Cod…”
“Cape Cod isn’t a city.”
“It counts,” Scully muttered.
“When?”
“You were a senior, in high school.”
“What? When? You were what, fourteen?”
Scully shrugged. “I hate this game.”
“Why didn’t you tell me? Who?”
“Look, this paper’s due next week….”
“Oh my god, who? That Blakemore kid…Jake? No…he was gay, wasn’t he?”
Scully had already turned her attention back to the book she was taking quotations out of.
“This is why I don’t like to tell you things, Melissa.”
“No.” Melissa’s eyes widened. “Lisa? No…not Lisa from up the street?”
“I’m not talking about this.”
“You lost your virginity to a girl?”
Melissa always ran off somewhere different. A new guy, then the city would change, the boyfriend would change. New York rated highly with her.
“You haven’t fucked until you’ve done it in New York.”
“Jesus, Melissa.”
“Just an observation.”
And now she was dead. She’d been dead for over ten years. And Scully still found herself playing that game, in different variations. List the number of places you’ve feared for your life. The number of places you’ve questioned your belief system. The number of places you lost track of the person you thought you were.
Suddenly, listing sexual conquests seemed so much simpler.
She hadn’t really visited New York. She rarely did anything purely for its enjoyment factor. It always involved cases. Following at Mulder’s heels. Vacations were rarely just that. But now she had nothing to examine. No case to solve. Just places to run to, one after the other, until the world finally ended. She’d become Melissa. And even though the idea filled her with an intense amount of pain, it comforted her to think her sister was somehow lying with her, in all of those unfamiliar motel beds.
They’d wanted to give Mulder the death penalty. Even after all the crap they’d suffered, they’d lost eachother, anyway. Other people filled the void. It stopped mattering who, as long as she didn’t have to be alone. As long as she didn’t have to think about Mulder and where on earth he could be. Or about William, who wasn’t even hers to begin with.
New York was different, without her badge, her ‘government exempt’ parking sticker on her car. Her sense of safety.
She worked sporadically. As a waitress, or anything that kept her under their radar. When she became braver, she ventured back into the circles of the law, feeling like she might as well set herself on fire, but craving it all the same. It was somewhere below the position where all you do is make coffee. It paid badly, but it was the least obvious job the DA’s office had.
Brunettes always reminded her of Diana Fowley, now. But she should have known better than to compare Tracey Kibre with that snake of a woman.
Initialy, all she did was stare at the EADA, like she’d never seen dancer’s legs before. But she began to linger in her office for longer than she should have.
Tracey was Furrowing her brow, reading an open folder.
“Damn Voycheck, playing the hero card for all it’s worth.”
Scully’s mouth ran away from her. “I’m sure he’ll trip himself up on the stand. On the news, he looks so nervous. I don’t trust him.”
Tracey turned, looking confused. Still, she smiled.
“You don’t trust him.”
Scully shrugged. “I’m just certain he’ll purger himself.”
Tracey flipped the file shut. “You know a lot about the law for someone paid to empty the garbage.”
“I watch cop shows.”
Tracey smirked, and dropped another empty coffee cup into the trash bin Scully has just emptied.
“Witness protection?”
Scully wondered if it was that obvious that she was hiding from something. Tracey cocked her head, like she hoped her assumption was incorrect, but doubted the likelihood.
“You might call it that.” Scully fished the cup out of the trash can, and threw it in the bin-liner she was holding.
“I’m Tracey Kibre.”
“I know who you are.”
She could even faintly remember a few cases this woman had second-chaired - badly-disguised X-files that were prosecuted on a technicality. Mulder had initially been so smug, then later infuriated, that the truth could only be paraded in front of the jury on the basis of a lie.
“I didn’t think my reputation preceded me that much.”
Scully shrugged. “I must frequent the same places your interns do.”
“Interns, sure.” Tracey gestured to a spare seat. “Are you due for a break?”
Scully didn’t answer.
“You don’t have to tell me your name. I’m not a total idiot.”
“Melissa,” Scully braced herself, reiterating what she’d written on the job application. “Melissa Williams.” Not that changing names would make her any harder to track. But then, they were after Mulder, more than her.
“How long have you worked here, Melissa?”
“A…month. Possibly less.”
“You look familiar.”
“Look, I have a lot of offices to go through before lunch.”
“Can I take you to lunch, then?”
Scully viewed her suspiciously. “Sure…ok.”
Tracey was too perceptive for her own good. Her gaze scrutinized Scully, when they found a table.
“I’m not sure what your intentions are, Ms. Kibre-”
“It’s Tracey.”
“Fine. Tracey.”
“Look, Melissa. I can help you.”
Scully still felt a slight cringe being called by a first name. Even though technically, it wasn’t hers. She forced her voice to sound calm.
“Where's the waiter? The service here's terrible.”
Tracey’s eyes widened in a disbelieving smile. “You’ve been working at the DA’s office for longer than a month.”
“I haven’t.”
Tracey met her eyes. “I could swear that I’ve seen you.”
Scully shifted uncomfortably. “I’m afraid that’s an unfounded assumption. I’m just a cleaner. I’m not even from New York.”
“Oh, no one’s really from New York.”
She wished she could disguise her delight at Tracey having recognized her. She wished she wasn’t silently counting up lists, one after the other, to make this moment allowable.
Tracey nodded, but it wasn’t in agreement.
“A cleaner, with an encyclopedic knowledge of the legal system.”
“What? I wouldn’t say encyclopedic.” But she found herself smiling, her lips parted slightly.
“A lawyer. You were a lawyer?”
“No,” Scully said, simply.
“I know someone. She’s in a situation somewhat similar to yours-”
“Define somewhat.”
“I just thought you could use a friend.”
Scully was about to protest, but she stopped herself.
“Thanks,” she raised her eyebrows, “Really. Thank you. But you don’t know me. And trust me, you don’t want to.”
“Jesus, is that a dare?”
“No it’s not a dare.” Scully wasn’t able to repress a slight smile.
“Well, what would you think? A beautiful woman, gazing through your office window for over a month. Then suddenly, she gains a little more mystery?”
“I’ve had it with mystery.”
“But you’re still happy having me compliment you?”
Scully shrugged, but her heart had sped up a little. Tracey’s hand was tracing hers.
“Melissa, the next time you walk past my office, please do more than just stare.”
Scully learned to work slower when she neared Tracey Kibre’s office. She learned that Tracey’s mouth tasted like morning coffees. They kissed outside of the restaurant. And up against Tracey’s desk, the edge cutting into Scully’s back, her hands still dirty from her work.
“Your assistant’s due back soon.”
“Shit.” Tracey would pull away.
“I take it you want to look your best for Ms. Gaffney,” Scully raised an eyebrow.
“She bats for the other team,” Tracey muttered, reapplying her lipstick.
“I’ve sat in the public gallery. You should see her expression when you’re cross-examining. Better, if it’s a hostile witness.”
Tracey just smirked to herself. “You really aren’t a lawyer?”
“Still not.”
“Your lipstick’s smudged,”
“It doesn’t matter.”
Tracey had her own lists. Who was Melissa Williams? Scully wondered if she’d stared a file on her. The thought filled her with no small amount of panic.
“Defense Attorney?”
“No.”
“Private investigator?”
“No.”
“Detective, then.”
“No.”
“What about a doctor?”
Scully wouldn’t tell her about the FBI, the months teaching medicine at Quantico, the missing time she still hadn’t recovered.
But she told her about her sister. And the game.
“Places you’ve fucked? Nice.”
“Yeah, she could turn a colorful phrase.”
“Well, you have New York now. Cross it off.”
“It’s wearing a dent in my list.”
Tracey smiled into Scully’s skin.
“Your sister’s name was Dana?”
Scully flinched. “It was. She’s dead.”
“You must miss her.”
“I don’t even know where to start.”
Tracey was kissing her at the base of her neck, tasting her scar, as if it would tell her the secrets Scully refused to divulge.
They’d been messing around for that awkward time period. Too long to still count as casual, not long enough for anything else. And Scully was a realist. Unfortunately, so was Tracey.
“What about your future? You’re just going to, what? Clean forever?”
Scully looked away. “It’s good enough for now.”
“Well, you empty garbage.”
“I don’t attack your profession, Tracey.”
“Are you saying my work is garbage?”
“I’m saying,” Scully glared. “That your job doesn’t afford you any more smugness than mine. Just a better paycheck.”
“Well, I don’t doubt that.”
Scully wished she’d moved on. Wished she’d fled to another city. A dead town. Gone in search for Mulder. But she couldn’t pull herself away.
“Look, what if…” She swallowed, and felt Tracey edge closer. “What if there is no future?”
Tracey furrowed her brow and smiled uncertainly. “What….what does that mean?”
“Do you think it matters if I pass my time cleaning offices? All this? There’s only a few years left.”
“What?”
“There’s nothing you can do. Believe me, I tried. he tried.”
Tracey pulled back. “Are you feeling sick?”
“Are you listening to me? The world’s going to end.”
Tracey felt her forehead. “Feverish,” she muttered.
Scully jerked away, but was steadied by Tracey’s hand. God, what would it feel like to just rest, for once?
Tracey was rubbing her shoulders. “You really freak me out, sometimes.”
Scully shook her head in protest, but didn’t say anything.
“Melissa?”
Scully felt herself nod.
“You can trust me. I’m not an imbecile. Whatever it is, you can tell me.”
Scully wanted to laugh.
“Of course you don’t believe me.”
“It’s just... Your name…”
“It isn’t Melissa.”
“No.” Tracey’s hands paused for a second. “I know that.”
“Melissa’s good enough for now, as well.”
Scully was supposed to be the sensible one. The realist who weighed her options carefully, before digging her own grave. It didn’t take a genius to think this through. She needed to get away from Tracey Kibre, from anything resembling a government agency. But no matter how she rationalized it - the amount of times she packed her things, spent all her money on a train ticket - she never made it beyond the outer suburbs, before she changed lines and ended up back in the apartment of a woman who would never know her.
It didn’t matter anymore, that Mulder had surely been caught by now. That Monica probably thought she was dead. All that counted in the end was Tracey’s lips against her skin, and the way she murmured Melissa, giving that lie enough truth to make up for anything that might happen the morning after.