Summary: After Scully is attacked in Milagro, the agents get sent on an assignment to a creepy town in Florida filled with mediums to investigate a series of murders, and Scully meets some people from her past. Meanwhile, the malevolent forces present in the town become more and more powerful, and the agents get trapped there until they can find a way to stop an evil medium who is hiding out.
Spoilers: Milagro and Emily, and I'm not sure what other episodes.
Setting: Season six
Author's comments: As usual, this is a remake of a story I originally wrote over a decade ago. I just had to re-write this story, because it is such a fun one to write. This story was originally called Cassadaga, because it is based on a real town in Florida of the same name—a town that is populated with psychics and mediums, spiritualists who believe they can speak to the dead. I visited the town once, and found it to be very eerie, and some of the descriptions in this story are real. The new title is from a song of the same name by Kings of Leon—love that song!
Closer
Chapter 1
Part 1.
A man with a hoodie was on top of Scully, and she felt like she could not breathe. Yet the pain was so awful that a series of bloodcurdling screams managed to escape her lips. She could feel her heart being ripped right out of her chest, and as hard as she fought to keep it from happening, she knew it was a losing battle. If several gunshots straight to the chest would not take this man down, her own scrawny hands would be like limp rags against him. Still, she thrashed around, trying to escape the torture being inflicted on her. Unable to tolerate the pain anymore, she passed out.
Part 2.
Mulder rushed into his apartment, scanning the room for the source of the gunshots. But he saw no one—that is, until he caught a glimpse of something on the floor in front of him, and realized it was Scully. Panic set in as he saw that she was bleeding from the chest, and that she was not moving.
He knelt down over her, putting his hands on her limp shoulders and saying a little prayer in his head to a god he did not believe in. His face contorted when he realized that she was probably dead. He was about to call her name, as if that would bring her back, when her body jerked in a startled motion and her eyes shot open. At first the movement scared him, as if she had awoken from beyond the grave. But it only took a few moments for relief to set in—she was alive! Scully was alive.
He watched her face contract as she began to cry from the terror of her experience. He still did not know what had happened to her, or if she was injured, but he wrapped his arms around her in a comforting shield, and held her against him while her body began to wrack with sobs.
They stayed this way for what seemed like hours. He buried his face and one hand in her hair while waiting patiently for her to cry out the trauma. He could feel her nails clawing at his back as she tried desperately to hold him even closer. Even after she stopped sobbing, he could still feel her body trembling violently, and he held her until her vice of a grip loosened just a bit. Finally, he began to pull away from her, but he kept his body close to her and pressed his forehead against hers in case she still needed his reassuring touch.
Her face was wet with tears and she was still shaking, but she looked as if she had calmed down a little. "Scully," he said gently, "are-are you okay? Are you hurt?"
She sniffled. "I—I don't—"
She looked confused by the question, so he took the initiative and put his hands on the lapels of her shirt. She looked down in shock at her blood-soaked shirt, and wrapped her hands around his, as if to guide him. He pulled her shirt apart just enough to see her chest, and stared in awe as he discovered that there was no wound there—not even a scratch. Scully stared at her chest as well, horrified, as if she was looking at a gaping hole.
"We better get you checked out anyway," Mulder said.
He called in an ambulance from his cell phone, and then returned his attention to the shell-shocked partner before him. He guided her up to the couch, where she sat down while he pulled out a blanket and covered her. Her gaze darted around the room, as if someone would jump out at her at any second. Mulder squatted next to her and asked, "Scully, what happened? Where did your attacker go?"
Her eyes met his for a second, but then they went blank as she stared into space. "I—I don't know. He was-" she stopped to get her emotions under control once again, trying not to cry. "He was on top of me, with his hand—in my chest—it hurt so bad that I passed out." She was gripping her chest with her hands now, as if to protect her vulnerable heart.
Mulder stood up, remembering that Pageant was in the basement still. "I have to get Pageant," he said, but he was stopped by Scully's hand wrapping tightly around his wrist.
She looked up at him with wide, pleading eyes. "Not yet," she said. "Please," she whispered.
He sat down next to her and put an arm around her shoulders. "Okay, I'll wait until the paramedics get here," he said softly.
Part 3.
Still in shock, Scully stuttered when she tried to explain to the paramedics what had happened. They gazed at her in disbelief, and found nothing wrong with her when they examined her. Still, one paramedic felt sorry for her in her obviously distressed condition, and said, "Let's get you checked out at the hospital—take an x-ray and make sure there isn't a broken rib or something."
She half-smiled in gratitude. "That's okay," she said. "I appreciate it, but I think I'll be okay now."
The wound that was not a wound still hurt, and Scully could not tell if it was all in her mind, or if she had some bruising from the assault. Obviously the attack happened—there was blood to prove it, but no injury to produce that blood. Maybe Mulder was right after all, maybe it had been a form of psychic surgery.
Whatever it was, it left Scully feeling confused and frightened, and the entire series of events had shaken her confidence to the point where she no longer trusted her own instincts. Why had she stood up for Pageant, a man who was obviously not right in the head and consumed with obsessive thoughts about her?
Mulder came back in the room then, interrupting her thoughts. He looked at her with worried eyes. "Are they going to have you checked out at the hospital?"
She looked down, embarrassed that she was the object of his concern. "No, I—I'm not going." She looked back up at him. "I'll be fine, Mulder."
He acted as if he was about to protest, but then closed his mouth, perhaps realizing that it was pointless to argue with her, a doctor. But then he opened his mouth to say something else. "I found Pageant in the basement—he's dead, Scully. It looks like he finally imposed the same torture on himself that he inflicted on all his victims."
Scully dropped her head at the words. She tried so hard to keep the tears from coming again. She was grateful that Mulder had been there to hold her when she was recovering from her attack, but she always felt humiliated when crying in front of him, as if that showed her weakness as a woman.
But why was she so upset that this man was dead? She guessed that a part of her still felt like he was innocent, that he did not cause the murders, but instead had imagined them before the fact somehow. But there was something else at work here too, and she couldn't quite put her finger on it. It was as if she felt a connection with Pageant, like she had some sort of sick feelings for him because of his misplaced adoration of her. She guessed anyone would feel flattered by such misguided attention, even if it was a little scary.
But she brushed off her feelings and stood, still feeling a little shaky. "I want to go home now," she said to nobody in particular.
Mulder nodded. "I think that's a good idea. You want me to stay with you?"
Scully nodded back at him without looking him in the eye. "Thank you."
He held her chin in his hand and smiled slightly. "You didn't have to go to all this trouble to get me over, you know." She met his eyes now, and smiled back at him, feeling the tension release just a little.