#ullrich

“Well, it looks like the head was severed just below the jawline with repeated stabbing blows from a putty knife,” Juan says, reluctantly impressed at the originality. The cranium certainly looks like Swiss cheese, but not from the stab wounds that caused decapitation. “There were no other indications of trauma to the head.”

Agent Scully catches on immediately. “From the eyewitness reports, there were already fly larvae infesting the flesh. That seems unusual considering the short time-of-death window.”

“Not altogether. Here, let me show you this.” He walks over and holds up a green-tinted jar full of dead fly larvae he’d just spent hours plucking from every orifice of Rick Fornier’s head.

Juan excitedly explains in detail the larvae’s life cycle as it pertains to feasting on decaying flesh. And to his utter delight, this intelligent, gorgeous woman looks impressed. 

“In the anaerobic environment inside the paint can?” 

“On my autopsy on the first victim, the lungs were absolutely alive with infestation,” he adds eagerly. 

“Hmm.” She brings the specimen jar closer to her face. Her faint rust-colored freckles pop under the fluorescent light.

Juan sucks in a breath.

Maybe he should ask her out to dinner at that new restaurant tonight. Maybe, if he’s lucky, she likes to talk science over seafood and Salcheto, too. 

“Not to sound unprofessional, but-”

The door flings open, ushering in a tall man with green eyes, almost as bright as his own, that instantly latch onto Agent Scully. 

“Hey, Scully,” the man says. “Done slicing and dicing?”

“For now. This is Agent Mulder, my partner,” she swiftly introduces before excusing herself, leading the two of them into a corner of the morgue.

“You sure you’re okay?” Juan hears Agent Mulder softly ask, tenderly touching her arm when her chin dips. “You left death row in a hurry. I know how… uncomfortable-”

“I’m fine, Mulder.” Their voices are hushed, but a morgue’s acoustics are unmatched. “What’s next?” she prods. 

Juan looks down at the severed head staring up at him. It’s a damn good question. 

“We need to interview the blockmate named Roque.” Agent Mulder tilts his head, still trying to snag his partner’s eyes with his. “Or… I can do it…” 

Juan tries not to eavesdrop. Tries hard not to analyze and dissect others like his career so aptly demands, but the underlying meaning in Agent Mulder’s words are hard not to hear: Men walking the row are less likely to be objectified or assaulted than women. He’s certainly not wrong. And with the way he reaches out to supportively squeeze her hand, implies this isn’t the first time she’s been treated as prey amongst predators.

“Okay. I have more work to do here anyway,” she airily dismisses, though Juan senses by the relief in her breathy tone that she’s grateful for the offer. “Maybe physical evidence will arise that eliminates Neech.”

“Good, we’ll always benefit from your expertise.”

Her pale cheeks pinken. 

Neech.

They’re referring to convicted murderer Neech Manley. Juan represses a shiver. He’d examined Manley’s body post-execution, and for the first time since med school, chills had run down Juan’s spine. Something about that man’s lifeless, wild-eyed expression was truly frightening.

“You’re curious about this list Neech left behind?” she asks.

“Safe to say it’s not the Nice one,” Agent Mulder quips. “And he definitely checked it twice.”

Juan fidgets with an evidence bag, trying not to blatantly stare at the agents holding an entire conversation with their eyes while systematically categorizing every sway of their bodies, every touch of her hands. 

“Someone is facilitating Neech’s grievances as debt on the inside, Mulder. I just don’t believe it’s Neech.” 

“It’s plausible,” he agrees.

“It’s probable.”

The sterile room is silent as the duo unblinkingly stare at one another. Agent Scully finally glances back at the remnants of the mutilated victim and frowns. 

Juan watches her turn to search her partner’s eyes for something only she can see. “Transmigration of the soul. Really?”

He shrugs. “Human knowledge isn’t linear, Scully.”

“But scientific evidence is, Mulder,” she replies evenly. There is no malice. She’s pleased, almost, and Juan is struck by the amused way her eyes crinkle at the corners. 

She enjoys an intellectual repartee. 

He just wishes it was with him.

Maybe seafood and Salcheto isn’t all it’s cracked up to be.

Read the other All Eyes Lead to the Truth chapters on Ao3!