memento vivere - supernatural & criminal minds

chapter 16

Chapter 16
Meet Me In St. Louis

It drew close to the witching hour as the X-Files theme song hummed through Jude’s apartment for the tenth time that night. She rejoined Penelope in the living room, balancing three bowls of snacks in her arms. The television provided the only light and the flashing opening credits cast a fluorescent glow across both of their faces. Their comically late Halloween marathon - it was halfway through November - had ended earlier that evening, then Spencer had been gently ushered out so the women could have their time. 

“I wish the x-files was an actual unit,” Jude lamented, digging through a bowl of Skittles for the red ones. “We need a Fox Mulder in the office.”

Penelope laughed and craned her neck to look at her. “We have Morgan.”

“No, you have Morgan. I’m morbidly Mulder-less.” 

“We’ll find you your Mulder, sugar.” Penelope reached out to pinch Jude’s cheek. “You can ogle after this one for now.” On the screen, Mulder tugged off his tie and rolled up his sleeves. “Hello.”

“God, he’s gorgeous. I was a Scully girl first, though.”

Penelope shrugged. “You can multitask.” Jude’s phone buzzed in the pocket of her sweater and she dug it out to see Mulder listed as the contact. She quickly paused the episode and closed herself in her bedroom, waving away Penelope’s demands to “Make it snappy!”

“Sam, hi.” It’s possible that her comment about being ‘morbidly Mulderless’ was a half-truth. About a day into their road trip, she and the Winchesters had stopped for lunch in the first town they’d encountered since leaving Lost Creek. Their story about a nine-hundred-pound grizzly had made it into the local paper and caught the attention of a group of teenagers. They’d found the mine, planted some spray-painted pentagrams, half-melted candles, and a few other knick-knacks from a Halloween clearance sale, and submitted the pictures to a larger news agency. 

This was revealed to the hunters in all its juvenile stupidity when Sam dropped a newspaper in front of Jude at their diner table and announced “Scully, you’re not gonna believe this.” He slid into the booth beside her and tapped the headline ‘Suspicions of devil worship rattle small town.’ 

“You are not Mulder,” Dean had objected. His offense was made clear in the way his burger had stalled halfway to his mouth.

“Yes, I am,” Sam had smirked.

“Then who am I?”

“The Lone Gunman,” Jude had snorted and barely dodged the french fry Dean flicked at her head.

“Jude,” Sam said now, his hushed voice pitched upward by surprise. “I didn’t expect you to answer, I was just gonna leave a voicemail. Why are you up?”

“It’s X-Files night,” she explained, moving further from the door. “Why are you up? And why are you whispering?”

“I can’t sleep. We’re working a job in Pennsylvania and there’s some stuff that’s bugging me.” Whether those last two statements were independent of each other, he didn’t say, but Jude could tell by the tone of his voice. He couldn’t sleep because of Jess. The nightmares were getting worse. “Dean’s passed out and I’m calling you from the bathroom, that’s why I’m whispering.”

Something struck Jude’s door with a loud thud followed by Penelope urging her to hurry up. “You’re gonna have to make this quick before Penelope breaks the door down. What’s the job?” Jude paced the length of her room while Sam rattled on about two planes that crashed in freak accidents, one commercial and one private. They had interviewed one of the seven survivors on the first flight, who was so rattled that he’d checked himself into a psychiatric hospital, and he claimed that the cabin had been depressurized by a man with black eyes. “It sounds pretty straightforward,” Jude shrugged at the wall. “Demonic possession, based on the eyes and insane strength. Why’d you need to call me?”