This is my first X-Files fic, but God knows, not my first fanfiction. Please R+R (read and review), but be nice. This fic isn't intended to be a fanfic of my own made up episode.
The 14-year old girl awoke from her sleep at 9:30. It was Thursday, the 21st of December, but this time, she was on one her school's Winter Break. It was downright refreshing to go to bed at 12:30 and wake up at 9:30 the next day. She lifted the heavy covers of her bed and swung her feet off.
Every wall of her room was plastered in posters, printouts, and articles of all of her favorite things, most of which were The X-Files.
"Fe," she said half-asleep. But her dog didn't come. She looked behind her bed to see her dog's empty bed. Her door was closed, just as she had left it last night. _Mom must've let her out,_
She opened her door, every inch pasted with The X-Files memorabilia, and walked slowly out of her room, through the den, and towards the kitchen, still groggy from her sleep. She let out a yawn.
"Mom," she called. As she reached the kitchen, there was no sign of her mother, who was now on her Winter Vacation as well. She usually would be here, nagging her to eat breakfast. She glanced at the stove, then at the table. No pans, no plates, no cups, nothing. Just like last night. Her father would be up as well, getting ready for work.
"Mom," she tried again. Her house was old, so any plumbing from her parents' room upstairs could be heard. But not even the sound of a drop was heard.
"Mom..." she started, this time a little worried. "Mom!" she tried, her voice cracking. You idiot, they're probably just shopping for presents again, she reassured herself. Still...
She walked to the large hall of her house, where her front door was. Something large above her caught her eye. She looked up. There, hanging from a white beam was her mother, hung by a huge yellow rope from her neck. Blood dripped from her mouth and another unidentifiable place on her body. Her left hand was clasped around the rope on her neck as if trying to loosen it, jaw hanging, eyes wide opened, eyebrows high, a look of pure terror contorted on her face, as if she were a Tim Burton figure made of clay. It was time to copy that horrendous look of terror.
She screamed. An ear-piercing shriek emitted her mouth. She ran. She had no idea what she was doing. _Maybe to the back porch_, her mind thought. But it didn't get there. As soon as she took off, her mind blanked from shock and confusion. Her mind was as if it no longer existed, only to control her legs. She just ran, ran back to the den, to wherever. She tripped on the narrow bronze beam converting from tile to carpet. She hit the old and thin carpet hard. It took so much oxygen to get to where she was that when she hit the ground, she blacked out.
She awoke to the sounds of many peoples' quiet voices. She could hear other things, although not too distinct, like flashes from cameras, the unfamiliar footsteps of people, and the sound of her dog whining in another room. She could neither make out the people who were talking, nor what they were saying. It was just an annoying buzz to her ears. Then she felt something, the touch of someone's fingers on her wrist. Suddenly, there was a blast of familiar voices, as she became more aware of the things she heard. She could feel her position. She was lying on her left side, arms in front of her. She could feel her strength returning, at least, enough to open her eyes and bring herself up. But something was holding her back.
"She's alive," A woman's voice. Pause.
"And she's showing signs of physical abuse." This time, a man's voice, although both strangely familiar.
Her eyes opened slowly, by themselves. She lifted her head up, her vision focusing, as she tried to bring herself into a sitting position. The person to her left got up. She looked to her right. She recognized him immediately.
"I'm a Federal Agent. My name is Mul-"
"Thank God you're here!" she said as she quickly hugged him, making him stop his sentence. He was reaching for what seemed like his badge, so his arm was folded across his chest. She squeezed her eyes tight, tears escaping the corners of her eyes.
"Uh..." he started.
"It's okay. Don't worry. Can you tell us your name and how old you are?" said Special Agent Dana Scully from behind her.
"Elise. Elise Williams. I'm... fourteen." She replied shakily. She had let go of the stranger. "I can't believe you two are here." She looked down. She could hear the local police gathering evidence as in a crime scene.
"I don't think we know you," said the man calmly. Elise raised her head again to meet the two people.
"Sure, but I know you, Mulder." Mulder looked unalarmed. She had probably guessed. He was halfway through saying his name to her.
"You're Special Agent Fox Mulder..." she continued. She turned to look to her left again. "And you're Special Agent Dana Scully." Scully looked to her partner for an answer.
"By any strange chance, would the names David Duchovny and Gillian Anderson sound familiar to you?" Elise asked and pointed to the respective agents. They both looked perplexed.
"Elise, how did you know? Know our names?" Mulder asked cautiously, avoiding her second comment. Elise sighed.
"I can't believe this," she said with a slight grin, looking down again. "YOU won't believe this."
She was now seated on the couch. Elise contemplated her position. This was too strange. Like an X-File in itself. Almost like a dream... and yet, she could feel her head pounding, two signs that it surely wasn't a dream.
"This might sound a little weird, but can I get your autographs later?" she asked shakily. They looked oddly at her. Her mind was set on her huge and expensive X-Files cast collectors' poster on her door.
Scully put her hand on Mulder's arm.
"Mulder, this girl has just suffered from a trauma," she said in a hushed tone. "Leave her alone."
Elise looked at Scully with offence. She was not looking her way. _She thinks I'm nuts!_
"No, Scully, I want to know why a fourteen-year old girl in the middle of California knows our names. Why she would know our status in the Bureau, while we live on the other side of the country, in D.C."
"Mulder," she repeated firmly. He looked back at her.
"No, it's okay." Elise said timidly.
"Elise, do you want to know what happened to this woman?" Scully asked.
"My mother?" Elise hesitated as a tear streamed down her eyes. She nodded slightly.
"It looks as if this were a murder. She was thrown from above." Scully said very gently. Elise tried to retain her tears, but they broke out into hysterical sobs. She felt a large gentle hand on her back. Mulder looked oddly compassionate.
"I'm sorry," he said quietly his eyes glittering.
Suddenly, a gangly man wearing a black jacket and huge black boots jumped down from the inside top of the porch, outside of the closed sliding glass door, landing on his feet. Yellow rope was hanging neatly bundled from his waist. In one hand he held a serrated knife, in the other, a sleek black gun, a gun pointed at Elise.
Terror was all Elise knew now.
"Get down!" Scully shouted.
All in a split second, Mulder drew his gun and fired. Once, twice, again and again, shattering the glass as it fell to the ground. The man outside also fired.
Time seemed to slow down. Elise could hear the quick shots coming from Mulder's gun. But they seemed slow and delayed. The shots echoed for several seconds, as all the people around her started to slow down tremendously. Elise focused on the man, then at the small silver object approaching her mid-air. The bullet seemed to break holes in the air and time itself, for it looked like it was coming faster, white folds emitting from the rear of it. Elise was paralyzed. It was now several inches from her head. As she watched helplessly, time clocked forward again, the sounds becoming normal. But this only lasted a split-second as the bullet stayed on target.
Elise awoke again in her bed. She quickly raised her head to read the clock. It read 9:30. She slid out from under the heavy covers; not feeling tired in the least bit. She looked around and scratched her head. She felt the remaining feelings of excitement, as if just met the stars of her favorite TV show. But what was this feeling? The remaining feelings of sadness and utter despair? She shook off the emotions and stepped for the door. But something distracted her. She looked closer at the collectors' poster on her door. Over the picture of Mulder was something in black. There, over Mulder's head was an autograph.
"Fox Mulder" and under it in quotes said, "'David Duchovny'". Above Scully's picture was an identical autograph.
"Dana Scully" and under it read "'Gillian Anderson'".
Elise smiled, welcoming the now *real* collector's item with a familiar memory. Somehow, she knew this to be possible, and knew that somehow, she knew them and that this faint memory wasn't entirely a dream.Elise made her way through the still empty kitchen, a pot on the stove.Elise walked yet again to the front entry hall to look out the window for her mother's red car. As she slowly advanced to the door, something small dropped in front of her feet. She knelt down to examine the drop on the floor.It was a drop of crimson blood.
~Fin~
The 14-year old girl awoke from her sleep at 9:30. It was Thursday, the 21st of December, but this time, she was on one her school's Winter Break. It was downright refreshing to go to bed at 12:30 and wake up at 9:30 the next day. She lifted the heavy covers of her bed and swung her feet off.
Every wall of her room was plastered in posters, printouts, and articles of all of her favorite things, most of which were The X-Files.
"Fe," she said half-asleep. But her dog didn't come. She looked behind her bed to see her dog's empty bed. Her door was closed, just as she had left it last night. _Mom must've let her out,_
She opened her door, every inch pasted with The X-Files memorabilia, and walked slowly out of her room, through the den, and towards the kitchen, still groggy from her sleep. She let out a yawn.
"Mom," she called. As she reached the kitchen, there was no sign of her mother, who was now on her Winter Vacation as well. She usually would be here, nagging her to eat breakfast. She glanced at the stove, then at the table. No pans, no plates, no cups, nothing. Just like last night. Her father would be up as well, getting ready for work.
"Mom," she tried again. Her house was old, so any plumbing from her parents' room upstairs could be heard. But not even the sound of a drop was heard.
"Mom..." she started, this time a little worried. "Mom!" she tried, her voice cracking. You idiot, they're probably just shopping for presents again, she reassured herself. Still...
She walked to the large hall of her house, where her front door was. Something large above her caught her eye. She looked up. There, hanging from a white beam was her mother, hung by a huge yellow rope from her neck. Blood dripped from her mouth and another unidentifiable place on her body. Her left hand was clasped around the rope on her neck as if trying to loosen it, jaw hanging, eyes wide opened, eyebrows high, a look of pure terror contorted on her face, as if she were a Tim Burton figure made of clay. It was time to copy that horrendous look of terror.
She screamed. An ear-piercing shriek emitted her mouth. She ran. She had no idea what she was doing. _Maybe to the back porch_, her mind thought. But it didn't get there. As soon as she took off, her mind blanked from shock and confusion. Her mind was as if it no longer existed, only to control her legs. She just ran, ran back to the den, to wherever. She tripped on the narrow bronze beam converting from tile to carpet. She hit the old and thin carpet hard. It took so much oxygen to get to where she was that when she hit the ground, she blacked out.
She awoke to the sounds of many peoples' quiet voices. She could hear other things, although not too distinct, like flashes from cameras, the unfamiliar footsteps of people, and the sound of her dog whining in another room. She could neither make out the people who were talking, nor what they were saying. It was just an annoying buzz to her ears. Then she felt something, the touch of someone's fingers on her wrist. Suddenly, there was a blast of familiar voices, as she became more aware of the things she heard. She could feel her position. She was lying on her left side, arms in front of her. She could feel her strength returning, at least, enough to open her eyes and bring herself up. But something was holding her back.
"She's alive," A woman's voice. Pause.
"And she's showing signs of physical abuse." This time, a man's voice, although both strangely familiar.
Her eyes opened slowly, by themselves. She lifted her head up, her vision focusing, as she tried to bring herself into a sitting position. The person to her left got up. She looked to her right. She recognized him immediately.
"I'm a Federal Agent. My name is Mul-"
"Thank God you're here!" she said as she quickly hugged him, making him stop his sentence. He was reaching for what seemed like his badge, so his arm was folded across his chest. She squeezed her eyes tight, tears escaping the corners of her eyes.
"Uh..." he started.
"It's okay. Don't worry. Can you tell us your name and how old you are?" said Special Agent Dana Scully from behind her.
"Elise. Elise Williams. I'm... fourteen." She replied shakily. She had let go of the stranger. "I can't believe you two are here." She looked down. She could hear the local police gathering evidence as in a crime scene.
"I don't think we know you," said the man calmly. Elise raised her head again to meet the two people.
"Sure, but I know you, Mulder." Mulder looked unalarmed. She had probably guessed. He was halfway through saying his name to her.
"You're Special Agent Fox Mulder..." she continued. She turned to look to her left again. "And you're Special Agent Dana Scully." Scully looked to her partner for an answer.
"By any strange chance, would the names David Duchovny and Gillian Anderson sound familiar to you?" Elise asked and pointed to the respective agents. They both looked perplexed.
"Elise, how did you know? Know our names?" Mulder asked cautiously, avoiding her second comment. Elise sighed.
"I can't believe this," she said with a slight grin, looking down again. "YOU won't believe this."
She was now seated on the couch. Elise contemplated her position. This was too strange. Like an X-File in itself. Almost like a dream... and yet, she could feel her head pounding, two signs that it surely wasn't a dream.
"This might sound a little weird, but can I get your autographs later?" she asked shakily. They looked oddly at her. Her mind was set on her huge and expensive X-Files cast collectors' poster on her door.
Scully put her hand on Mulder's arm.
"Mulder, this girl has just suffered from a trauma," she said in a hushed tone. "Leave her alone."
Elise looked at Scully with offence. She was not looking her way. _She thinks I'm nuts!_
"No, Scully, I want to know why a fourteen-year old girl in the middle of California knows our names. Why she would know our status in the Bureau, while we live on the other side of the country, in D.C."
"Mulder," she repeated firmly. He looked back at her.
"No, it's okay." Elise said timidly.
"Elise, do you want to know what happened to this woman?" Scully asked.
"My mother?" Elise hesitated as a tear streamed down her eyes. She nodded slightly.
"It looks as if this were a murder. She was thrown from above." Scully said very gently. Elise tried to retain her tears, but they broke out into hysterical sobs. She felt a large gentle hand on her back. Mulder looked oddly compassionate.
"I'm sorry," he said quietly his eyes glittering.
Suddenly, a gangly man wearing a black jacket and huge black boots jumped down from the inside top of the porch, outside of the closed sliding glass door, landing on his feet. Yellow rope was hanging neatly bundled from his waist. In one hand he held a serrated knife, in the other, a sleek black gun, a gun pointed at Elise.
Terror was all Elise knew now.
"Get down!" Scully shouted.
All in a split second, Mulder drew his gun and fired. Once, twice, again and again, shattering the glass as it fell to the ground. The man outside also fired.
Time seemed to slow down. Elise could hear the quick shots coming from Mulder's gun. But they seemed slow and delayed. The shots echoed for several seconds, as all the people around her started to slow down tremendously. Elise focused on the man, then at the small silver object approaching her mid-air. The bullet seemed to break holes in the air and time itself, for it looked like it was coming faster, white folds emitting from the rear of it. Elise was paralyzed. It was now several inches from her head. As she watched helplessly, time clocked forward again, the sounds becoming normal. But this only lasted a split-second as the bullet stayed on target.
Elise awoke again in her bed. She quickly raised her head to read the clock. It read 9:30. She slid out from under the heavy covers; not feeling tired in the least bit. She looked around and scratched her head. She felt the remaining feelings of excitement, as if just met the stars of her favorite TV show. But what was this feeling? The remaining feelings of sadness and utter despair? She shook off the emotions and stepped for the door. But something distracted her. She looked closer at the collectors' poster on her door. Over the picture of Mulder was something in black. There, over Mulder's head was an autograph.
"Fox Mulder" and under it in quotes said, "'David Duchovny'". Above Scully's picture was an identical autograph.
"Dana Scully" and under it read "'Gillian Anderson'".
Elise smiled, welcoming the now *real* collector's item with a familiar memory. Somehow, she knew this to be possible, and knew that somehow, she knew them and that this faint memory wasn't entirely a dream.Elise made her way through the still empty kitchen, a pot on the stove.Elise walked yet again to the front entry hall to look out the window for her mother's red car. As she slowly advanced to the door, something small dropped in front of her feet. She knelt down to examine the drop on the floor.It was a drop of crimson blood.
~Fin~