Chapter Text
Mulder guided Scully across the threshold of Skinner's office. He'd called them in first thing, saying that this case was a high priority sent down from the director's office and they needed to drop everything for it.
They took their usual seats across him, exchanging a brief glance of anticipation as they settled.
"Six deaths in four months," Skinner said, finally sliding the folder in front of him across the desk. "All newlywed couples. All at the same resort, the Belisario, on the Strip. All following the same pattern: one spouse kills the other, then themselves, within eighteen hours of check-in. No prior domestic history, no drugs in the tox screens, no forced entry, no struggle beyond the homicide itself."
Mulder was already flipping through crime scene photos with the particular brightness he got when a case had a shape he liked.
"No struggle beyond the homicide. Witnesses say they’ve only seen the victims happy and seemingly affectionate with one another," he repeated. "So whatever flips the switch, it's fast, and it's total."
"That's where you come in." Skinner laced his fingers together.
“The hotel's manager is cooperating. He’d like this to stop happening to his five-star reviews. Vegas PD's cooperating because they'd like it to stop happening at all. Which means you two are checking in as guests. You’ll be going undercover as newlyweds. Full immersion: real reservation, real suite, real cover identities. None of the staff will know who you are. Given that all incidents have occurred with newlyweds staying at the resort, the staff are not above suspicion."
There it was. Mulder didn't so much as glance at Scully, which told her he was working very hard not to.
"I read the after-action report from your last undercover assignment." Skinner's expression remaining neutral except for a sight raise of an eyebrow.
“Both versions of it. Agent Mulder's was three pages longer than it needed to be and contained an unusual amount of detail about home decor."
"The details had case relevance," Mulder said.
"I'm sure it did." Skinner opened a second folder, not quite suppressing a smirk at the corner of his mouth before he continued.
"This time there's no homeowners' association to answer to, just hotel staff, other guests, and whoever's doing this. You'll need to hold the cover convincingly for as long as it takes, which, looking at the timeline on these victims, could be under twenty-four hours from check-in. So I'd encourage you both to be thorough."
"Define thorough," Mulder said, entirely too innocently.
"Don't make me," Skinner said, and the flatness of it as he leveled a pointed look at Mulder, his eyebrow rising even higher than before which was somehow worse than if he'd elaborated.
He closed the folder. "Go down to Documents and Cover Support to get squared away with identities, credit history, and the room reservation set under your names. Wheels up at oh-seven-hundred."
Scully stood first, mostly so she'd have something to do with her hands besides notice that Mulder still hadn't looked at her since the word Arcadia. "Understood, sir."
"Agent Scully." Skinner's voice caught her at the door, mild. "You're choosing the names this time."
It wasn't a question, and she smirked a glance at Mulder as she replied, "Yes, sir."
"Good." Something in his face came as close to amusement as it ever got.
"Dismissed."
Documents and Cover Support occupied an entire corner of the second floor and always smelled faintly of laminate and toner, staffed by an eccentric group of people who'd clearly dreamed up a wildly diverse range of cover experiences for the Bureau over the years.
A woman with gray-streaked hair named Patel had them seated across from her desk within thirty seconds of walking in, two blank intake forms already squared in front of her.
"Names," Patel said, pen ready, not looking up.
"Michael and Sarah O'Neill," Scully said.
Mulder's head turned. "That's it? Michael and Sarah?"
"It's a name, Mulder."
"It's the least interesting name in the English language. You had an entire…" he gestured, encompassing, apparently, the full scope of human imagination, "..and you picked the guy who delivers your mail."
"I picked a name nobody's going to remember in a week, which is the point of an alias." She didn't look at him. "Your alias last time was barely an alias. Rob Petrie. You couldn't even change the first letter."
"Rob Petrie had a home life, Scully. He had a whole — "
"He had a television show from 1961."
"I'm aware of when The Dick Van Dyke Show aired."
Patel, without looking up from the form, said, "You’re supposed to be newlyweds? You sound like you've been married 10 years...”
You met…" she glanced at a reference sheet, bored "...pick something boring, it holds up better under questioning. Coworkers. Friend of a friend. I don't care, just agree on it before you land, because the desk staff at these resorts ask, and they remember the couples who hesitate."
"Coworkers," Scully said, refusing to look at Mulder, though she could feel his eyes on her, could see him nod silently peripherally.
Patel wrote down and told them she'd be back shortly before leaving them alone in the office.
Scully cautiously turned to look at Mulder, noticing he was already looking at her, an amused grin on his face.
Immediately her discomfort morphed to irritation. Of course he was enjoying this. If this was anything like the case in Arcadia, she was going to be irritated before they even got to their hotel room.
Ten minutes later, Patel returned, sliding two thin document folders across the desk including driver's licenses, a credit card each, an engagement and wedding rings, a marriage certificate dated one month prior, a few photographs that looked staged because they were, both of them standing somewhere generically scenic, neither one quite smiling enough to be convincing and were clearly made from stock photos the bureau had on file of them.
"O'Neill," Patel said, glancing at the name on the certificate like she was filing it away somewhere only mildly interesting.
"Cute. You want help with the backstory or are you two good at improvising?"
"We're good at improvising," Mulder said.
Patel looked between them for a second too long as if she were trying to determine whether to believe him.
"Right, okay," she said, and reached for a blank sheet. "Well, we will make sure your reservation is in place before you arrive. Godspeed, Agents."
They nodded silently as they gathered their materials to leave