Hellbound

So, Group breaks up and the men scatter, Ed still bitching to Dead Meat about how stupid the whole therapy thing is. "These men are afraid of their true natures," Ed says. Dead Meat is all, "Please shut up, Ed, because I'm deeply haunted and I need to concentrate on how I'm going to die in a horrible, painful fashion." Ed's like, "Don't tell me [group therapy] makes your nightmares go away." Dead Meat lights another cigarette, and admits that it doesn't. He stares at Ed. Ed stares back. But, see, Dead Meat doesn't see Ed that way the rest of us do. He sees him all skinned-alive-looking. Yawn. Takes a lot more than a little skinlessness to scare me.

Credits.

Moronica stands around in the dark somewhere, looking at a file. Dead Meat's file. Guess he's dead. Told ya. Her hair, by the way, looks way better than it did last week. And so Gillian Anderson's and Annabeth Gish's struggle for the title of Prettiest Girl on The X-Files continues. Ms. Anderson is still winning, but she did have a big head start. Perhaps they've brokered a truce, and now they sit around the makeup trailer, drinking their coffee and flipping through the tabloids, waiting for their curlers to cool, and talking about Robert Patrick's ass; I don't know. At any rate, we're at Quantico. It's 1:47AM. The elevator door dings, and slides open to reveal a crabby-looking Doggett, who greets Moronica very tersely. She thanks him for coming, and apologizes for the late hour. She mentions that she called Scully in, too. "Scuuuuulllllllly," the Mulder action figure moans from his Kleenex-y nest. "Whyyyyyyy?" Doggett rolls his eyes. "It's a little late to be looking for a sitter," Doggett sniffs. "What's so pressing?" Moronica hands him Dead Meat's file. Doggett's all, so? "He was murdered," Moronica says. Doggett's like, so? "It's the way he was killed," Moronica explains.

Autopsy bay. Scully's standing to the body, wearing a leather jacket and a sour expression. "Agent Doggett," she says. "Agent Scully," he parrots. Moronica explains that she wants Doggett to see the body. Scully rolls her eyes and uncovers the corpse. "Damn," Doggett says, looking away. Yeah; Dead Meat was skinned alive. "I've seen a bunch of these, when I was a cop. Favorite of some of the pan-Asian gangs," Doggett explains. "This is different," Moronica intones. "[Dead Meat] had a premonition of his death." Doggett and Scully stare at her. "And?" Doggett asks. "That was my question," Scully eyebrows. You know what my question is? Why do they have to talk about this in the middle of the night? He's not going anywhere. They're all tired! "What I'm saying is. This man was skinned alive. Just hours. After explaining it. In exact detail," Moronica says, very, very slowly. Doggett reasons that, as an ex-con, Dead Meat probably had tons of enemies. Maybe one of them threatened him. Scully rouses from her stupor long enough to pipe up that Dead Meat did die fairly horrifically. Whoever skinned him knew what he or she was doing. "It's a terrible way to die, I'm sure," Doggett admits. Scully's all, whatever. I have a hot former G-man, fresh from the Krispy Kreme, waiting for me in bed with a cruller and some decaf, she thinks. "I know," Moronica says. Meaningfully. "Is there something else, Agent Reyes?" Scully asks. "Something special that brought this case to your attention as a possible X-File?" Moronica's all, no. Scully's all, argh. "I just know I need to solve this. And I appreciate your help," Moronica says. Doggett and Scully exchange deeply pained looks.

First Calvary Church; Novi, Virginia. This church is seriously in every movie and television show, ever. This is where they had Heather Chandler's funeral in Heathers, where they buried Stupid Dead Scott on , and where the good guys fought Adam a couple of seasons ago on Buffy. Moronica and Doggett pile out of their Sensible Rental Car and meet the local law enforcement: a Detective Van Alan. Van Alan makes some snide comments to the effect that nobody cares about Dead Meat and he really, really doesn't care. But he can introduce them to someone who does. And then he stalks off. Moronica purses her lips. Remind me not to get skinned alive in Novi, Virginia.

The "person who cares" turns out to be Lisa Holland, the wan blonde group therapy leader. She's waiting for them in her office, looking all depressed and whatnot. I guess if my job was doing anger management for ex-cons who end up dead with no skin, I'd be depressed, too. Anyway, Moronica plops right down in Lisa's office chair, while Doggett leans against the wall and wishes he wasn't partnered with such a bloody dingbat. Lisa whinily informs them that these criminals "have a tough time." I guess so, if someone is skinning them alive. Moronica asks about Dead Meat's premonition. Lisa shrugs. "These men are haunted by their past. That's why they're here," she says. "But this dream came true," Moronica insists. "Sometimes the past they're trying to escape won't let them," Lisa sighs. Man, she's a barrel of monkeys. She must be a blast on the weekends. Doggett wanders around in the background and looks skeptical. He mentions Dead Meat's Chauffeur, the crabby, cranky Ed. Is it possible that Ed is the murderer? Doggett wonders. "It's not my place to judge them," Lisa sniffs. Doggett reminds her that they're trying to solve this case, and "serve justice." And they need her help. "You can't forget that," Doggett says. "I'm sure Agent Reyes won't let me," Lisa says dreamily. "Won't let anybody." Moronica smiles modestly. Doggett looks confused. "Thank you for your help," Moronica says, and makes her exit. "She contacted you on this case?" Doggett asks Lisa. She bats her lashes in the direction of the closed door and says that "the police would have given up if not for [Moronica]." Aw, Lisa loves Moronica!

Outside, Moronica is striding purposefully to her car. Van Alan, leaning against a pillar, watches her ass. "You seem really familiar to me," he offers to her backside. Moronica whips around. "Excuse me?" she asks. He wonders if she's ever visited Novi before. "No, I never have," she retorts, and stalks away.

Cut to a shot of a knife slicing through skin. Whatever. I'm impervious to such things. Besides, it's a pig, not a person, and it's a meatpacking plant, not a crime scene. Nice fake-out attempt, though. Ed's all working, slicing skin off the poor dead pig, when BoS comes stomping over. Blah blah confrontation blah. "Your friend is dead," BoS squeals. Ed mutters something to the effect that now he gets a promotion, what with there being a new spot open above him on the corporate pig-skinning ladder. "You know how it happened?" BoS asks. Ed waves his carving knife menacingly. "Why don't you just back off," he growls. BoS informs Ed that the FBI is nosing around. "I got nothing to tell nobody," Ed announces. Then he informs BoS that BoS "better watch it." BoS furrows his brow. "Or what? You gonna do me, too?" he asks. They're staring at each other when a bell rings somewhere. It's quittin' time. "Got a ride to catch," Ed grouses, and takes off. "That's right! Just walk away! But remember, you can't run from what you are," BoS yells after him. Didn't Billy Joel say that? No, I think that was something about how, no matter where you sleep, you wake up with yourself. Same diff. Ed calls back that he'll see BoS in hell. BoS gives chase -- why, I don't know. Eventually, he sees something, off in the distance, but it's not Ed. It's some skinned-alive guy. Well, maybe it is Ed, without any skin. But how -- nah, must be one of them pesky hallucinations all the kids are getting these days. Finally, BoS run outside to see Ed driving off in an old truck with some chick.

Quantico. Scully's in her office, cleaning up her French manicure and reading a copy of Raising an Exceptional Telekinetic Child. A cute boy student in a blue Academy polo shirt skips into her office, calls her "Dr. Scully," drools a little bit, and then tells her that he's brought her "everything [she] ever wanted to know about skinning people but were afraid to ask." The files date from the last twelve years, and most of them are Asian-gang-related. Scully leafs through the files, but one catches her eye. The Cute Boy Student sighs that he wasn't even sure if he should have shown her that one, seeing as it's "pretty much ancient history." Scully breathes that it's "identical" to the current case. "1960," she reads aloud.

Paradise Retirement Community, Columbia, Maryland. So, Scully goes to see the guy who investigated the 1960 Skinned Alive case. She strolls down the hallway and into the room of a Mr. Mueller. I wonder if his name is similar to "Mulder" on purpose. I also wonder if that means that Mulder's going to end up living alone in a posh retirement community, with cute young redheaded investigators showing up from time to time to ask him about, like, Donnie Pfaster, or something. Scully's all, I'm from the FBI, and I want to ask you some questions. And he's all, I can't be expected to remember a case I investigated a million years ago. And she's all, the victim was skinned alive? And he's all, oh, that one. Apparently, he never saw anything as "inhuman" as that particular case. Scully wonders about the police records. Did he ever have a suspect? Mueller shakes his head. "No suspects -- no investigation, for that matter," he grouses. The victim was a John Doe, "a nobody," and the sheriff didn't want to "stir up the community." Mueller comments that the sheriff must have had something else on his mind, since he killed himself shortly thereafter. Scully's all, eyebrow. And now, Mueller hypothesizes, they've got a copycat murderer, forty-odd years later. Scully shrugs. "If so, it's the most perfectly executed I've ever seen," she says. "And why copy an obscure murder that nobody's ever heard of?" Mueller furrows his own brow. "A string of murders," he corrects her. "I thought you knew." Apparently, the case he investigated involved four bodies. Dum dum dum dum!

Pig Plant. BoS is cleaning the blood from the floor. The lights snap off, and he looks up from his job, irritated. "I'm working in here," he calls. No response. Multiple shots of dead pigs. Mmmm, the other white meat. , we get fifteen minutes of ominous noises and apprehensive looks. Eventually, BoS takes his knife out of his pocket. "Is that you, Ed?" he calls. Nothing. He waves his knife around. "See what I got for you?" BoS yells. Walking. Pigs. Pigs. Ominous Music. Walking. "You best clear the hell out, whoever you are!" BoS hollers. Finally, something catches his eye. "Hey," BoS yells, and gives chase. Looking. Running. Running. BoS is bending over to look for feet amongst the dead pigs when someone clocks him, hard, over the head. He falls over in a pile. thing you know, he's all strung up by his feet, just like the pigs. Oh, okay: ew. Getting turned upside down brings BoS back to semi-consciousness, just in time to see his assailant whip out a carving knife. "Oh, God," BoS groans. "Oh, God, no. Argh! Arggggh!" Blood starts to run all over his face.

Church Where Everything Happens. Flute Music of Impending Skinlessness. Moronica's walking around the nave, looking perturbed and tired. Walking. Walking. Walking. Walking. Behind her, a door slams shut. She whips around. "Dr. Holland?" she calls, nervously. No response. Moronica approaches the door of the church, drums pounding in the background. She opens the door, and is greeted by someone with no skin. You know, these skinless folks really don't look all that unhappy. And why should they be? Think of how much money they save on exfoliants alone.

But it's all a dream: Moronica sits up in her bed, breathing hard in an ugly navy blue camisole. Her door swings open to reveal Doggett, in a tight t-shirt. What the hell? Why is Doggett in Moronica's house? "[Moronica]," he asks, "What the hell are you dreaming about?" She heaves. "Nothing, it was a nightmare," she says. "How did you know? To come in here?" Doggett crinkles his manly brow. "I was on the phone," he explains, "I could hear you calling out." Oh, they must be in a hotel! Why are they in a hotel if the case is in Virginia? If Scully can drive to and from Quantico, surely they're close enough to drive home every night, right? Oh, whatever. "Who were you on the phone to?" Moronica asks, still all sweaty, looking at the clock. It's 2 AM. "Dr. Holland," Doggett says glumly. "Her anger management group is getting smaller and smaller."

So, Doggett and Moronica head over to the Pig Skinning Plant. Moronica's camel-colored leather trench coat is awesome, if not totally appropriate for meatpacking. Blah blah blah, blood all over the floor, yada yada yada, someone cut the lights, bliddly bliddy blah blah, here's the body. Doggett and Moronica stare at the still-upside-down BoS. Detective Van Alan makes a bored face. One of his flunkies figures out a way to turn on the lights, illuminating the body. Moronica blanches and turns away, looking like she's ready to hurl. "[Moronica], are you okay?" Doggett asks. She says nothing, just runs outside, la Scully in "Irresistible."