femslash_fluff | Long Challenge Fluff Response -- Clowning Around (Reply)

Title: Clowning Around

Author: Ann

Fandom: X-files

Challenger:

Challenge: Scully/anyone, small town America, clown costume

Disclaimer: No ownership, simply fluff.

AN: I’ve disregarded any and all timelines in my quest for the truth. This fluff seems to go on forever, but I promise you it really does have an end.

I can’t believe I’m being sent to Hicktown, USA to investigate a bank robbery. Ever since the X-files have been officially closed, Mulder and I have been assigned cases no one else wants. I’m sure the powers that be are trying to piss us off enough so we’ll quit, but there is no way I’m going to give them the satisfaction; they’ll have to fire me first.

Now that Mulder is conveniently stuck in bed with the flu, I have to make this trip alone. I accused him of faking his illness, but one look at him when I barged into his apartment proved me wrong. He looked like death warmed over and had a temperature to boot.

I am feeling a bit guilty about sending Frohike, Langly, and Byers to care for him, but I think he needs to suffer as much as I more than likely will on this case in small town America.

The nearest airport is quite a distance from the small town, but thankfully, the FBI has arranged for a helicopter to fly me the rest of the way. At least I won’t have to drive the four hour trip because I’m sure the only music on the radio is country, and I do mean, country, Hank Williams Sr. style.

When the helicopter sets down, a sheriff’s car is waiting to take me to the scene. I’m beginning to become more and more curious as to why the FBI has been called in on a small town bank robbery, but I’ve learned through the years with Mulder that there usually seems to be a good reason.

Well, I was wrong. I can find no explanation why the FBI is involved in this case. Granted, it is armed robbery, but less than five thousand dollars was taken from the bank in question. I immediately turn my attention to the sheriff to try to get to the bottom of this seemingly non-federal case.

“Sheriff Jenkins, can you tell me exactly why the FBI has been contacted to investigate this case? So far, I’ve found no reason for federal intervention.”

Pushing his cowboy hat off his forehead, the sheriff spits out a mouthful of tobacco juice and says, “Well, little lady. I’m not rightly sure. All I know is I called Sheriff Brown over in Podunk to inquire if he’s had any trouble, and the same exact thing happened to his bank two weeks ago. It got me to thinking that maybe there was a rash of these types of robberies so I called all around and found the same to be true in Yokelwood, Hayseed City, Bumpkin, and Redneckville. I’m guessing the FBI thought we had some sort of serial robber problem.”

Oh, how exciting, a serial robbery case. I mask my less than enthusiastic expression and ask the sheriff for the map of the surrounding area. He mentions the map is back at his office so we climb in his car and head for the police station.

When I step into his office, I note a large map on the wall and make my way over. Good Lord, there are dozens of small towns within a hundred mile radius. This could take weeks to do the legwork to question each town’s law enforcement personnel.

My thoughts are interrupted by Sheriff Jenkins.

“Ms. Scully, you may want to watch this here video tape Bert Stevens sent over. It shows the entire robbery. He just had this fancy system installed last week.”

I bite my tongue to keep from sarcastically asking why in the hell didn’t he tell me about this in the first place.

Instead, I offer, “I’d love to view the video.”

We sit in front of the TV monitor, and the sheriff fiddles around with the remote.

“I just can’t get used to this new technology stuff,” the sheriff says as tries to get the tape to play.

“Here, let me try,” I sweetly offer so that we can get on with this ridiculous investigation.

The sheriff hands over the remote control, and I graciously accept it. Pointing toward the VCR, I hit play and the screen is filled with the image of the interior of the bank. I note the time stamp at one o’clock in the afternoon as my attention is drawn to the next person entering the bank.

I sit up closer to confirm what I think I am seeing. Oh my God, the robber is a clown. I mean, the robber is actually dressed as a clown with the one piece silk outfit, white face makeup, big red nose, big red afro, and big red shoes. This guy stands out like a sore thumb.

He walks toward the nearest teller and puts his hand in his pocket. Wait a minute, clown costumes don’t have pockets. Great, now I’m critiquing his outfit.

It doesn’t appear that he says anything as he hands the cashier a note and motions to his pocket. I freeze the frame and concentrate on the location of his hand. It certainly doesn’t appear that there is a gun in the pocket, but I can’t be sure.

I unfreeze the video and watch as the cashier hands over a bag of money, and the clown turns and leaves the building. None of the other customers seem to act surprised. You would think a clown walked in their midst on a daily basis.

Watching the video again, I concentrate solely on the clown. He appears to be slightly nervous when he first walks into the bank, but he squares his shoulders and walks right up to the teller window.

I can’t discern too much about him except that he appears to be well under six feet tall. There does seem to be something familiar about him though; I just can’t put my finger on it.

After sitting in front of the monitor for half an hour, I begin to take note of the robber’s gait and mannerisms. I believe I have met this person before. Now, I just have to figure out where we could have possibly met as I have never been to a rodeo in my life, and to be honest, ever since Mulder forced me to watch "Killer Klowns from Outer Space," I have avoided clowns at all costs.

I move my attention back to the map on the wall and study the small towns.

“Sheriff Jenkins, would you mind getting some push pins and marking the towns where the robber has already struck? And would it be possible to number the banks in order as to when they were robbed?”

The sheriff reaches into his drawer and removes a box of thumb tacks.

“I’d be happy to, little lady,” is his short response.

Damn, now he’s got me using diminutive adjectives. I really hate it when he calls me ‘little lady.’

It doesn’t take long for a pattern to quickly become obvious. If this robber continues this same manner, the next bank to be hit will be in the town of Possum Gulch. Oh, I can’t wait to spend some time in such a pleasant sounding little town.

The sheriff agrees to drive me to the booming metropolis, and I have no choice but to accept. He explains that it will only take an hour to get there so I sit back in the seat and try to enjoy the scenery, and I actually was until he put a Flatts and Scruggs cassette into his car player.

Somewhere between the very country music and the town of Possum Gulch, I suddenly realized who the robber reminds me of, but that would make the robber female. And a really big problem with this hunch of mine is that there’s no possible way it can be her; she’s dead.

“Sheriff, could you drive me to the different hotels in the town? There’s something I’d like to check out before visiting the bank manager,” I ask when we cross the city limit sign boasting 500 people.

The sheriff grins and replies, “Why sure, little lady, but there’s only one hotel in Possum Gulch so it shouldn’t take too long to find your answer.”

I march up to the hotel desk with the sheriff following closely behind. The clerk takes one look at the sheriff and asks, “What can I do for you, sheriff?”

“I’d like to look at your registration book,” I say as I pull out my FBI badge and hand it to the clerk.

The nervous clerk quickly grabs the book from under the counter and opens it up. Turning it around so that I can read the entries, he asks, “Anything else?”

Without a word, I scan the few names in the book and almost gasp aloud at the last entry, Dana Fox. She’s using both our names, but she’s dead.

I ask the sheriff to please wait in the lobby while I go to room 101. He hesitates slightly, and I make it a point to show him that I’m armed before turning toward the hotel corridor.

Arriving at the door, I put my hand up to knock, but quickly pull it back down. What if it is her? Why is she robbing banks? Did she think Mulder would show up to investigate? I bet she still has a thing for him.

The door opens as I stand there contemplating all of my questions, and I freeze in place as I look into the eyes of Diana Fowley.

“Dana,” a clearly startled Diana stutters.

Well, at least it’s good to know that I’m not the only one surprised by this impromptu meeting. I push Diana back into the room and quickly close the door behind me. She takes a few steps backward and reaches for a nearby chair to sit in never taking her eyes off me the entire time.

She looks really good for a dead person. Hell, she looks really good period. Crap, I’m still attracted to her.

“So Diana, been to any rodeos lately?” I ask in a less than controlled voice as I watch her eyes shift toward the door.

Not giving her time to answer, I blurt out, “Mulder isn’t here.”

Why the hell did I feel the need to offer that little tidbit? I’m acting just like a jealous lover or something. I have to get a hold on my emotions and find out what is going on.

“Okay, forget that last question. Care to tell me what you’re doing going around dressed like a clown robbing banks? Oh, and maybe you can fill me in on why everyone thinks you are dead,” I state in my official FBI voice.

Finally getting over her initial shock, Diana leans back in the chair completely relaxed, and she smiles at me. She actually smiles at me.

“Which question would you for me to answer first?” She asks in a teasing voice.

I am stunned by her casual tone and completely relaxed appearance. How can she sit there so calm when all of her secrets have been exposed?

Before I can answer, a knock sounds on the door followed by the sheriff’s voice.

“Miss Dana, are you alright in there?” Sheriff Jenkins asks through the closed door.

Well, at least he didn’t call me little lady. I motion for Diana to stay put as I approach the door.

Opening it half-way, I reply, “Yes, sheriff. Everything is fine. I’ve made a miscalculation, but I need to talk to this lady in private. She may have information that will help us capture the robber. It will probably take several more hours. Why don’t you go back to Hicktown and come back tomorrow? I’ll get a room for the night.”

“Okay, if you’re sure. Call me if you need anything,” is his answer as he turns and walks away.

Exhaling loudly, I close the door and lean against it with my eyes closed. I just lied to an officer of the law.

A chuckle to my left causes me to open my eyes and look toward the occupied chair.

“Why Dana, I do believe you just covered for me,” an amused Diana says.

“No, I bought you some time. Now, please answer my questions starting with how you managed to live through your death,” I calmly reply.

Diana stiffens and her demeanor changes to one of sadness. Leaning back in the chair, she explains how she faked her death and fled the country in fear of her life. Several months later, she realized everyone thought she was dead, even the guys who were trying to kill her.

Sighing, she says, “I got lonely, Dana. I didn’t know anyone else so I took the chance and returned to the states hiding out in small towns and working menial jobs. I was okay with it for awhile, but then I missed the thrill of my old job.”

“So you decided to become a clown who robs banks?” I sarcastically ask.

Diana looks up at my question, and we both begin to laugh at the absurdity of it all.

As I wipe away my tears, I suddenly realize what Diana intended all along.

“You wanted to get caught,” I knowingly state.

When she doesn’t reply, I softly ask, “Why?”

Diana leans her head back and looks up at the ceiling, and for a few minutes, I don’t think she’s going to respond until her quiet voice fills the silence in the room.

“I’m tired of hiding, Dana. While I didn’t want to go back and openly offer myself up as a target, I’ve done things in my life that I’m not proud of, and I felt like incarceration was all that was left. If the rogue agents found me, then it was meant to be.”

Now, how am I supposed to respond to that? The sounds of crying get my attention as I look over at a sobbing Diana. Without thought, I quickly move to her side and pull her into my arms trying to console her.

Eventually, she cries herself out, and all that is left is the occasional hiccup. I pull back and wipe the tears from her face.

“I bet about now you are wishing it was Mulder who caught this case instead of me, huh?” I ask in a joking manner.

A very serious Diana replies, “Since my ‘death,’ I’ve discovered things about myself I wasn’t aware of or perhaps I always ignored. I can honestly say that it’s Mulder who doesn’t have the right equipment to hold my interest.”

What is she saying? If Mulder doesn’t have the right equipment, then that means that . . . oh God . . . I must. Breathe Dana, don’t freak out just because you’ve finally come across a fellow lesbian in your line of work.

Although, she’s really not in my line of work anymore unless you count her as a criminal, then I guess you could say she sort of had something to do with my job.

Once again, my rambling thoughts are interrupted, but this time by Diana’s voice.

“Have I scared you, Dana?”

“Huh, no! No, you don’t scare me at all. In fact if you did, then I guess I would scare myself all the time,” I recklessly admit.

A grin appears on Diana’s face just as I realize what I’ve just said. Too bad it isn’t in one of those bubbles like in the comics then I could reach up and burst it before she had time to read it.

Quickly changing the subject, I ask, “Why did you dress as a clown?”

“I wanted to call attention to myself immediately so I chose the clown suit. How was I supposed to know that in small town America a clown outfit isn’t anything out of the ordinary?” Diana honestly answers although a ghost of a grin is still present.

We both share another chuckle, and the next thing I know, Diana is very close to me. In fact, we could very well be breathing the same breath of air, and in the next second, she leans forward making contact with my lips as we do indeed share the ensuing breath.

Neither of us questions what is happening as the kiss quickly deepens. I haven’t felt the warmth of another’s lips in such a long time, and I revel in her taste.

Tongues which were first tentative now fight for control, and when our hands begin to freely map out the other’s body, there is no turning back for either of us.

I’m not exactly sure how our clothes were removed or how we managed to find the bed, but I do know there was no sign of hesitation. We both freely chose to find comfort in the other’s touch over and over again until we finally fell asleep in each other’s arms.

At morning light, there are no awkward moments when we awaken seemingly at the same time. We both smile and exchange sweet kisses as if we’ve done this every morning for our entire lives; however, the ringing of my cell brings a temporary halt to our bliss.

Sheriff Jenkins informs me he is running late and can’t get to Possum Gulch for another two hours. I assure him that everything is in order, and that I don’t have a problem waiting for him.

I glance over at Diana lounging in the bed and grin as I think of the different ways I can occupy my time while I wait for the country sheriff; however, Diana throws water on my libidinous thoughts when she asks me what I intend to do about the robberies.

Crap, I hate the voice of reason.

Walking over to the bed, I lie down next to the clown robber as I try to figure out what to do next.

“You know, we could find some old rundown house and put all the money you took in it, and then an anonymous tip could lead me and the sheriff right to it. I’m sure the small towns will care less if the culprit is apprehended as long as they get their money back,” I offer as the wheels of deception begin to turn.

“Dana, I can’t ask you to break the law,” Diana replies as she reaches over and takes my hand.

I watch as her thumb rubs over the top of my hand and immediately make my decision.

“You’re not asking; I’m offering. Besides, you’re not a criminal Diana. You didn’t even have a gun in your pocket,” I squeeze her hand and softly answer.

Surprised, she asks, “How did you know that?”

Grinning, I reply, “Clown costumes don’t have pockets. You put your hand in a slit. A gun would have fallen down to your stupid red shoes.”

We both laugh at the image described, and I suddenly turn very serious on my new lover.

“Diana, let’s do this my way. I’ll get you out of here and somewhere safe, then I’ll get the Lone Gunmen involved, and they will get you a new identification and a new job; no questions asked.”

“Where would that leave us, Dana?”

Good question and I have no idea as to the answer. I do know that I want to see her again, and I’d like to see if we can slowly build a relationship even if it is long distance and no one else can know.

“Really?” is Diana’s reply, and I realize that I must have said that last part aloud. I can only nod my answer as a beautiful smile graces Diana’s face.

We snuggle together and make plans for how to dump the money without the local yokels being involved. An hour passes with a plan firmly in place. All that’s left now is for me to meet with Sheriff Jenkins and convince him of my plan.

I get dressed with very little help from Diana as she tries to remove items of clothing that I have carefully put on. Finally dressed, I turn to my lover and tell her that I’ll be back shortly.

As I am walking out the door, Diana’s voice calls out, “Hurry back.”

Smiling, I pull the door to just in time to hear Diana’s parting question.

“Hey Dana, ever made it with a clown?”