Save Me, Frenzy

Title: Save Me, Frenzy

Pairing: Mulder/Scully

Rating: T – M (Possible mature content in the nature of words, violence, explicit language which may be triggering for some)

Disclaimer: I do not own the X-files and/or any of the characters in it. They belong to Fox& Co. , the producers and Chris Carter. I do not own any rights to books, movies, titles or trademarks mentioned in the hereby story.

Made for entertainment purposes only.

A/N: Happy New Year!

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Chapter 1

It was a windless, lacklustre day in Virginia. And everything from the parks, to the monuments stood stagnant while a few daring onlookers melted in the heat. The air stood, unmoving, giving the illusion of a stuffy room. The only living thing excited about the skin-burning heat, would be the plants, slowly growing.

Most concerned citizens stayed home on such a Sunday, waiting for a hint of a breeze to flutter by their open windows. A few AC's rumbled absent mindedly in some windows. In one such building, the resident on the third floor had drawn the curtains tight enough to forbid even the hint of sunshine to enter into the apartment.

Arianna Moore watched her curtains. They were a murky-brown, thick and cheap. The kind you got half price on a Christmas Sale. When one entered the house, the dark curtains were the last thing they saw, not that anyone except the resident had stepped in since the movers left about eighteen months ago. She felt protected from the heat. She sighed.

Tuning her attention back to the pot again, hip resting against a black granite kitchen counter, her pale hands clutched the coal handle of her coffee pot. She tilted her hand in the slightest to pour the hot caffeinated liquid down the drain. She watched the brown poison leave slight stains on her stain-less steel sink. Coffee swirled down unhurriedly and she stared at it. The swirls made her feel hot and dizzy.

It was like a whirlpool of brown, dominating and mesmerising.

A rude thud made her jump. The pot had slid from her reckless hands and had fallen into the sink. She closed her eyes, squeezing them shut from the monotonous heat. The pot lay in the sink, stopping the hypnotising whirlpool. She dragged it out of the sink like it was a heavy anchor and left it at the counter.

She rubbed her eyes and they devoured the kitchen, sluggishly. A tall pink protein shaker had been discarded recently near the counter. Residuals of the chocolate shake were now dripping out of the tilted shaker. A glass of ice lay on the other side, waiting to be sucked on.

Condensation was running down the glass. She watched a small bead of cold water run down the glass and form a ring at the bottom. She wanted to hold the glass against her head and slide it down to her neck.

Her shoulders slumped and a wave of nausea passed through her. Strong and resounding. She clutched her stomach and looked at the watch, droplets of water were dripping down her golden grandfather clock. She blinked. Let the hot afternoon be over she pleaded silently.

Three hands. One on two and the other on four. She stared at the clock, not registering a word. Her eyes glanced through the apartment and back to the watch. Not realising the time a second time, green eyes looked at the statue of buddah meditating near a shallow podium near the door. She took a deep breath in, and exhaled with hope.

Another wave of nausea passed through her colliding dynamically with the shooting pains of her migraine. She bent to touch the cool stone counter against her forehead and took comfort in the small gesture. A faint buzzing started at the back of her mind. It was irritating.

The buzzing continued making her lie down on her kitchen floor. A hand crossed over her eyes for more darkness. The light aggravated her migraine.

A few feet away from her, she heard a couple laugh as they exited the lift and walked past her apartment. They were laughing and she imagined a dramatic young couple, a man with his arms around a woman's neck and cracking a joke about how the waiter thought they were married. She would then kiss him with happiness thinking their connection could lead to so many possibilities in the future. He would kiss her back, flashing his dimples all the while living in the land of Short-sightedness. They would make their way to the end of the corridor, a little woozy with the delicious wine and passion. The man would have a radio in his pocket that would be playing Mack Mareen's Love-Spy.

Sure enough, the song could be heard from the thin wooden doors and she smiled at young love. What she would do to be in it.

The buzzing and the migraine thought it was enough thinking and like lightening the pain shot again. She crawled to the fridge for an ice-pack. A yellow post it hung above her head and she yanked it down. She couldn't remember her writing a post-it.

"I have proof, don't you dare try to kill me."

The woman read in the dim apartment and stood in scepticism. Who would write this to her and why? It must be a message. Someone threatening me? I am thunderstruck.

Of course it was shocking that a bony woman of 35 would be accused of such a thing. She had never even established eye contact with even the grocers.

Why she wouldn't even hurt a fly...

The buzzing continued and now it had a life of its own. It didn't feel like the noise was from her head. A slow buzzing continued and she ran through her gloomy house, paranoid about the noise and note. Somebody was in here. I know it she thought furiously.

Her closet door creaked with poor oiling as she pushed open the door. A small light came from the bottom of the cabinet. You couldn't see it directly with the heaps of boots and winter scarves near it.

A pain shot through her again. .Happening. She clutched her hair in desperation. If only everything would shut up for a minute I would hear myself think she thought. Now annoyed at her blocked mind and burning eyes and blurry vision, she dived into the closet, reaching for the origin of the light. Throwing boots haphazardly in every direction she pulled out a heavy and tiny abandoned television set. It was on. Scrambled signals were messing with her thinking and she dropped it to the ground. Ants were on the screen and the TV was looking for a hint of reception.

The TV was not plugged in.

Raspy, short breaths escaped from her parted lips as she tried to control her heartbeat. Not again. The woman's eyes were rolling in her sockets and her head was sending white hot stabs of pain right, right down her Medula Oblongata. Something was pounding and burning her brain from the inside. The woman retched. Hot, chocolate shake ran down her front. Smelling her own sickness she retched again, this time bending forward and pouring healthy stuffy undigested material on her Brown Cashmere Boots.

She ran out not wanting to smell it again, unaware it was on her. Her body was pushing her to the fridge. Small spasms ran through her legs as her mind compelled her to run to the window. The invisible force now dragged her feet backwards to the kitchen. Her hip clashed against the stone counter and she heard a crack. Breathtaking pain shot through her system and she gasped.

Screaming. Someone was screaming and it was filling the space with the horrible screeching noise. The side of her lip was tearing with her mouth shooting open to it's fullest.
Her ears hurt because of her own screaming and there was buzzing.

Between the screaming and the buzzing began the pounding. The neighbours, probably the lovers were disturbed and were pounding on the door. She wanted to open it but someone
inside her yelled.

No!

The thrashing continued as her hands took a life of their own. They opened the door of the freezer. This was the oddest thing a person who looked possessed could do at the time but the voice in her head and the searing hot pain down her brain were making her do it.

Her own head slammed against the ice box in the freezer as it seized in the sub zero temperature. An alien hand was slamming her head and crushing her spinal cord. Trying to break down the bone. Her legs started getting heavy as her hands slammed harder into the door, until finally the head of Arianna Moore lay lifeless in her own sleek, double-doored fridge.

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The lanky body of Agent Fox Mulder rested against the silver fridge of Arianna Moore. His brow was knotted at the sight of her self-abused mangled body. He let out a low breath. Why would someone do this to themselves?

Her skull was slightly cracked and you could see charcoal bits of matter inside her skull. Her eyes were bulging out and her lips were swollen and blue. Her pupils weren't to be seen.

Scrunching his nose he leaned towards her, running a finger down her hair. Sick was matted in it and it was cold and straw-like. His eyes followed the trail of her body until it reached her hands. They were twisted upward and were holding on the the door of the freezer like their life depended on it.

Unthinkingly, he pulled out his phone and dialled in the number of his partner.

"It's me." He said in all his glory, waiting for the dreary voice of his partner to dull down his party.

"Mulder" The woman on the other side said in her slow voice, not disappointing him.

Silence. She waited for him to go on.

"Imagine freezing your own brain" he said seductively, hoping to pique her interest.

"People do some crazy things Mulder. I haven't forgotten the time where you ran behind a trailer in a park, for a theory you still haven't proved." Even if the woman was interested, it didn't show.

Snap.

"Her brain is fried, quite literally actually. Kinda like a big steak on a Friday Night Barbeque." He knew this would get her drooling, he smirked.

"That's not possible." Still mysterious.

"Do her autopsy. I'm sending her body over now." He gestured to some men, to take Arianna Moore's body down to Agent Dana Scully.

"I have my own case going on you know", she grumbled.

He smiled. "Well do this as a favour then."

"Fine."

The phone clicked and the line was dead.

Agent Mulder knew that these kind of things didn't happen very often and when they did there was always another explanation. So he decided to snoop for proof to find out what actually happened.

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A/N: Thank you for reading! Hope you enjoyed it. Should I continue? Let me know!