Shadow
Natalie
Disclaimer: I hold no rights to the x files or any pertaining characters. No copyright infringement intended. I am also a Catholic and do not intend to offend anyone or the Catholic Church. I only used Catholicism in this story because I am familiar with the faith and the beliefs.
Like a dark shadow cast upon a sunny day, his presence sent a chill over me. I kept watching him from the corner of my eye, afraid to look him face on and even more afraid to not look at him at all and be unaware of his movement. I have never experienced such an odd sensation; I could feel the intensity of his eyes burning through me. Never in my life have I felt so vulnerable or exposed. Not even with my battle of cancer. My hands were trembling and for the third time I had to ball up a withdrawal slip. With the paper balled up in my fist, I decided to just leave.
Upon existing the bank, I phoned Mulder and told him about my second encounter with the strange man. He asked if I was all right, and then it donned on me. I knew his face from somewhere. I hung up with Mulder and glanced through the window at the man whom had his back turned to me.
I had this dream when I was a child. I would be asleep and awoken by a man holding a pillow over my face. Just as I was about to lose consciousness, he'd pull the pillow away and I could only make out his deep dark eyes and fleshy lips as my vision was blurred. He would then begin to open his mouth as one does to speak, but I'd always wake up before he could.
There was a vibe, so to speak, that he would give off. Mysterious, intimidating and compelling. I had never been subjected to this feeling outside of that dream, not until today when the man in the bank crossed my path. He had the same deep dark eyes and fleshy lips. I had an urge to go back inside and talk to him, but instead stood paralyzed on the steps of the bank watching him curiously. He exchanged a slip for money from the teller and slipped the money into his coat pocket. He then turned suddenly so that our eyes locked as he walked through the bank towards the door that I stood in front of. I felt my heartbeat rise into my throat and my knees grew heavy and shaky. As he reached for the door I turned around and proceeded down the steps toward my car.
"Ma'am?" He yelled after me as I was turning the key in my car door. I looked up at him, my head pounding and my body like rubber, I felt like Gumby.
"Ma'am? I think you dropped this!" He yelled again holding up a gold chain. I felt my neck and realized that my cross was gone.
I slowly walked towards him as he did to me, his fleshy lips were turned up in a warm smile, yet there was something vacant in his eyes, like he had some sort of deep dark secret or knew something that would damn me. I felt like he had somehow gotten inside of me through his glare, like he could see right through my soul and was judging it.
"Thank you." I said and feigned a smile as he held out my cross. As he dropped it into my hand, a strong, powerful image surged through me, the image of the man holding the pillow over my face. It was so vivid, and so real, that when I opened my eyes, I felt they were dampened with tears and I was gasping for air. But he was gone. Just disappeared.
With her hands folded delicately in her lap, Dana Scully shifted uncomfortably in her chair as the scene replayed in her head. She cocked her head to the side, the auburn lock that framed her neck draped down over shoulder exposing a hand shaped bruise on the side of her throat.
Walter Skinner examined the bruise and then the gold chain that hung form her neck. He sighed as he leaned back in his chair and tapped his pen on his desk. "You have a name for this man?"
"Yes Sir. Marcus Fieg." She replied and placed a case file in front of him. "He was a priest in Virginia at the Holy Cross Catholic Church on Elm. He was accused of breaking into the home of one of the church members and suffocating a 6 year old girl. She testified against him in court, but he was later acquitted. He was relieved of his position sometime later after a second girl accused him of suffocating her in her sleep as well, but the case was dismissed at a lack of evidence and an alibi that placed him at the church that night."
"Why was he relieved?"
"His alibi was his lover, another priest."
Skinner flipped through the file and pulled out a picture of the man dressed in his holy attire and his hands in prayer position. "Why do you think you're a target?"
"I cannot say, Sir. But there is an undeniable connection between us. I want to know what."
Skinner examined the picture again. "You're family never attended this church?"
"No Sir."
The phone rang. Skinner put down the picture and removed his glasses. "Skinner." He spoke into the phone as he massaged the bridge of his nose. "She's here." He answered into the phone, paused, nodded and hung up.
"Mulders got him." He informed her.
Natalie
Disclaimer: I hold no rights to the x files or any pertaining characters. No copyright infringement intended. I am also a Catholic and do not intend to offend anyone or the Catholic Church. I only used Catholicism in this story because I am familiar with the faith and the beliefs.
Like a dark shadow cast upon a sunny day, his presence sent a chill over me. I kept watching him from the corner of my eye, afraid to look him face on and even more afraid to not look at him at all and be unaware of his movement. I have never experienced such an odd sensation; I could feel the intensity of his eyes burning through me. Never in my life have I felt so vulnerable or exposed. Not even with my battle of cancer. My hands were trembling and for the third time I had to ball up a withdrawal slip. With the paper balled up in my fist, I decided to just leave.
Upon existing the bank, I phoned Mulder and told him about my second encounter with the strange man. He asked if I was all right, and then it donned on me. I knew his face from somewhere. I hung up with Mulder and glanced through the window at the man whom had his back turned to me.
I had this dream when I was a child. I would be asleep and awoken by a man holding a pillow over my face. Just as I was about to lose consciousness, he'd pull the pillow away and I could only make out his deep dark eyes and fleshy lips as my vision was blurred. He would then begin to open his mouth as one does to speak, but I'd always wake up before he could.
There was a vibe, so to speak, that he would give off. Mysterious, intimidating and compelling. I had never been subjected to this feeling outside of that dream, not until today when the man in the bank crossed my path. He had the same deep dark eyes and fleshy lips. I had an urge to go back inside and talk to him, but instead stood paralyzed on the steps of the bank watching him curiously. He exchanged a slip for money from the teller and slipped the money into his coat pocket. He then turned suddenly so that our eyes locked as he walked through the bank towards the door that I stood in front of. I felt my heartbeat rise into my throat and my knees grew heavy and shaky. As he reached for the door I turned around and proceeded down the steps toward my car.
"Ma'am?" He yelled after me as I was turning the key in my car door. I looked up at him, my head pounding and my body like rubber, I felt like Gumby.
"Ma'am? I think you dropped this!" He yelled again holding up a gold chain. I felt my neck and realized that my cross was gone.
I slowly walked towards him as he did to me, his fleshy lips were turned up in a warm smile, yet there was something vacant in his eyes, like he had some sort of deep dark secret or knew something that would damn me. I felt like he had somehow gotten inside of me through his glare, like he could see right through my soul and was judging it.
"Thank you." I said and feigned a smile as he held out my cross. As he dropped it into my hand, a strong, powerful image surged through me, the image of the man holding the pillow over my face. It was so vivid, and so real, that when I opened my eyes, I felt they were dampened with tears and I was gasping for air. But he was gone. Just disappeared.
With her hands folded delicately in her lap, Dana Scully shifted uncomfortably in her chair as the scene replayed in her head. She cocked her head to the side, the auburn lock that framed her neck draped down over shoulder exposing a hand shaped bruise on the side of her throat.
Walter Skinner examined the bruise and then the gold chain that hung form her neck. He sighed as he leaned back in his chair and tapped his pen on his desk. "You have a name for this man?"
"Yes Sir. Marcus Fieg." She replied and placed a case file in front of him. "He was a priest in Virginia at the Holy Cross Catholic Church on Elm. He was accused of breaking into the home of one of the church members and suffocating a 6 year old girl. She testified against him in court, but he was later acquitted. He was relieved of his position sometime later after a second girl accused him of suffocating her in her sleep as well, but the case was dismissed at a lack of evidence and an alibi that placed him at the church that night."
"Why was he relieved?"
"His alibi was his lover, another priest."
Skinner flipped through the file and pulled out a picture of the man dressed in his holy attire and his hands in prayer position. "Why do you think you're a target?"
"I cannot say, Sir. But there is an undeniable connection between us. I want to know what."
Skinner examined the picture again. "You're family never attended this church?"
"No Sir."
The phone rang. Skinner put down the picture and removed his glasses. "Skinner." He spoke into the phone as he massaged the bridge of his nose. "She's here." He answered into the phone, paused, nodded and hung up.
"Mulders got him." He informed her.