A/N: This is a one-shot written as an add-on/non-canon for the end of episode 2x24, Our Town. All rights belong to Chris Carter, Fox, etc. No profit is being made from this story. It is purely for my personal enjoyment. Reader's discretion is advised. This story begins with the last few scenes of the show and then continues onward with the effects that the case had on Scully's mental state. Go easy on me, I've never attempted to write anything in this tense or from a first-person standpoint.
Opening my eyes, the first thing I am able to register beside my blurry vision is the fact that my whole head is throbbing dully. My eyesight slowly focuses, and I'm not sure where I am. I can tell I'm in a room, but I don't remember how I got there or why I'm on the floor. Trying to move only brings a muffled groan from my aching body. That's when I realize that there's something tight over my mouth and hands. I bring my hands together up to whatever is on my mouth and try to ignore the dizzy feeling that seems to be affecting my motor movements.
Duct tape. It feels like duct tape. My eyes grow wide as a drop of blood makes its way down from my hairline. This is Mrs. Kearn's house. I was here trying to find her. She had called Mulder asking for help. When I got here and realized that she was MIA, I called him to let him know. That's the last thing that I can recall.
Footsteps sound on my right, making themselves known as they fall heavily on the old wooden floors. Each step corroborates with a twinge of pain in my head. I try to look over and see who it is, but before my eyesight can adjust on the figure, a piece of fabric is tied around my head, blocking my vision. My assailant roughly yanks me to my feet and starts to shove me in the other direction. My only thought is that hopefully, Mulder knows I'm in trouble.
A minute or so after we step outside- I can tell because the air is crisp with coolness and the sound of crickets can be heard loudly- I hear the click of a car door. A hand, on the top of my head, shoves me lower and forward, pitching me into what can only be the trunk of the vehicle. My pulse races. Wherever I am being taken, Mulder won't know how to find me. It will be like finding a needle in a haystack.
The trunk closes and I am left alone. When the car engine revs, I close my eyes out of habit and send up a prayer to my God. I hope he's listening for once. I don't want my family and Mulder to have to be told that I was murdered… or eaten… Oh, God. Oh, God. What if our hunches were right and there are people in this town that are cannibals. How would they tell my mother? Would anyone even know? Would I just end up as a missing persons cold case?
Mulder. Mulder. Mulder. I need him to find me. I need to believe that he will.
The car stops moving after what I believe is fifteen minutes or so. The drive had seemed pretty straight- there weren't a lot of turns involved- so that's good. I become distracted by the click of the trunk unlocking and the subsequent rush of fresh air. My captor pulls me out of the trunk by my gripping my upper arms and I am set on my feet again. My shoes have fallen off somewhere in the translation from ground-to-car-to-ground and I am forced to walk in my stockings.
A new wave of dread comes over my senses as the blindfold comes off of my head, and my eyes take in the image that is growing nearer to me with each step. Fire. A big fire. There looked to be a crowd of people surrounding it in the field where it was burning. A whimper escaped my sealed lips as the man- I'm pretty sure, based on his size and build- walked closely behind me. His chest was pressed against my back as he moved me forward.
As we approach the group of people and begin to move through the crowd, I notice with great fear that they all seem to be eating something. Dread fills my veins like lead. My head is still spinning slightly. I begin to have a hard time walking in a straight line. My balance must be off.
"What have you done here?" a voice with a slight drawl booms behind me, speaking to the masses. I recognize it fairly quickly. It is the voice of Mr. Chaco. He's the one that attacked me and dragged me here. He continued, "I warned you. I said not to touch her." Who is he talking about? Surely he isn't talking about me… is he? "Doris Kearns was one of us! Who's behind this?" his voice seems to contain both disappointment and contempt.
A man walks up to us and wipes his lips. My stomach rolls and I fight the urge to throw up, knowing that not only would it not be ideal in this situation, but also that I could potentially choke or suffocate to death. My eyes flit around to all of the different faces that are in my field of vision. There has to be at least two hundred people here. Easy.
"Why didn't you listen to me? It's the outsiders that we have to deal with, not one of our own." Mr. Chaco spoke again.
The man in front of us answered him. "We'll deal with them all." He spoke with such an icy calm demeanor that I started to become incredibly frightened. What if they already had Mulder, too? Is this how we're going to end? I have so many regrets, so many things that I have been wanting to tell people… I've been too scared to in the past, but now my reasons all seem so ridiculous. I want to tell my mother that I love her, that she was the best mom a girl could ever hope for. I want to tell Mulder that I don't blame him at all for anything that's happened to me these past few years… I want to tell Mulder… tell him that I love him. Even if he doesn't reciprocate it- which I am pretty sure he doesn't- I want him to know. He deserves to know that someone out there loves him and doesn't ever want to willfully leave his side.
I wasn't sure when exactly I fell in love with him, but it must have been early on. When I met him I knew he was cute and that I was attracted to him. I knew that when Phoebe Green showed up and distracted him, I was beside herself with jealousy. But somewhere along the line after all that, lust and admiration turned into love. It was all I could do to keep my hands to myself, only letting them run through that chestnut colored hair of his when I had an excuse to- usually when he was injured.
A sharp jerk from behind me drew me out of my thoughts. I had stopped paying attention.
"Kill me… and you'll kill us all," Mr. Chaco muttered with resignation as he was torn away from behind my body.
A group of people forced him to kneel a few feet in front of me. As his head was forced onto a plate, which was then locked into a harness, my eyes widened so big that they began to burn. I didn't want to watch, but my body refused to blink, refused to move, refused to breathe. He made a small sound, a near silent scream- or possibly a plea- as an axe was raised by a man in a tribal mask. Within a second, Mr. Chaco was without his head. Horror and dread infiltrated my bones, making them feel weak and brittle. I know that this is going to be my fate. I'm next.
They removed the body, still twitching with the leftover adrenaline. I looked frantically from side to side, hoping that they wouldn't kill me right away. A small part of me was still holding onto the hope that Mulder would show up in time to save me- just like always.
"Bring her over here," the man that had initially confronted them spoke from a distance away.
My feet feel like dead weight.
They force me down violently and hold my head against the plate as they lock the harness in place. It's tight over my skull and I feel my last shred of hope disappear as the man in the mask comes back into view, axe in tow. My breath speeds up rapidly. I am practically on the verge of hyperventilating. The duct tape covering my mouth is just making it harder for my body to get enough air.
I can't see much of anything and it terrifies me. The man with the axe has moved to the other side of my body- I think. The fact that I can no longer see him scares me to no end. When is he going to do it? Does he have his axe dangling above my head right now, ready to strike down and end my life? I close my eyes and say a final prayer in desperation.
My whole body jerks a second later as a gunshot rings out loudly through the crowd. The sound of a body hitting the floor comes from right behind me. Opening my eyes, I am greeted with the glorious sight of Mulder running toward me in the brush. I'm not sure how he knew to come here, but I thank God that he did.
When he gets to me, he immediately releases the harness and pulls me to my feet. I can hear the crowd of cannibalistic people scattering behind me, but I don't look. All I want to do is melt into Mulder's arms and never come back out again. I don't though. Instead, I silently stare at him with big, wet, scared eyes.
"Are you hurt?" He speaks softly to me, his big hands framing my face delicately as if I'm about to break. Maybe I am.
I try and answer him, but the tape is still in the way. He gently removes the duct tape and moves to brush the hair out of my face before speaking again. "Are you okay?"
I know that if I speak, I'll break, so instead I just make a poor attempt to nod and follow him- hands still bound together- as he moves to remove the mask of the man who almost murdered me. I suck in a breath at the face that greets us. It's Sheriff Arens.
It takes us over three hours to call in backup police force from other towns and to give statements. The USDA will be called out tomorrow morning. The police officers' promises to let us know about any developments in the closure of the processing plant and the investigation into the townspeople.
When we pull up to our new motel- three towns away- it is almost dawn. Mulder books us two adjoining rooms while I continue my vigil of silence in the car. He comes back out and carries my bags for me while I zombie walk into my room and lock myself in the bathroom. I faintly register him telling me from the other side of the closed door a few minutes later that he's going back to his room and that he'll leave his side of the door unlocked.
I don't answer him.
I want to let him in, but I don't know how.
The shower that I take is long, probably because I spend most of it sitting on the floor, knees pulled up to my chest under the spray of scalding hot water.
I loathe to admit it, but this case has really gotten to me. What just almost happened out in that field keeps replaying over and over again in my head.
I get out when the water begins to run cold and slip on my silk pajamas. For once, I wish that I had something different to wear. I want something that smells like Mulder, but I know that that's too much to ask. Losing my motivation halfway through changing, I end up crawling into bed in just the long-sleeved button-up and panties. I make sure that I arrange the pillows just the way I like them, one under my head and one on each side of me. Having them this way makes me feel safe and like I'm not alone. I don't like feeling like I'm alone, but alone is all I ever am, in reality. It's all that I'll let myself be.
"Scully?" A voice calls me from far away. It sounds fuzzy to me. "Scully?" it calls again, louder this time.
My eyes fly open and I let out a strangled scream as my senses registered a body leaning over my own.
"Scully!" the voice said urgently. It is then that I realize that the body is Mulder. "Scully! It's okay!" he soothes me as I try to get my breathing under control. I begin to sit up slightly to get closer to him. He runs a hand through my hair, brushing the stray strands back behind my ear. "Hey, It's just me. Everything's okay. You had a nightmare. I could hear you from my room."
I can't find my voice at first, but I know that my chin must be quivering from the stress of my dream still lingering in my mind. "M-Mulder?" I finally manage to whimper, tears springing to my eyes. I know my resolve for solitude is cracking.
"Oh, hey. Hey. Hey. Shhhh," Mulder cradles me close to him as I let my tears fall silently. My body hangs limply in the grip of his own, with the sheets of my bed separating us.
I can't manage to get any more words out, so I settle against the comforting weight of him and let him hold me. It feels so good.
After I calm down and my breathing evens out again, Mulder begins to peel himself away from me. I feel the absence of his skin like an icy wind. He moves to get up and asks me if I'll be alright now. Through the small amount of light that's filtering into the room, I can see the concern in his eyes. My resolve breaks and I reach for his hand before he gets too far away from me. "Mulder, no," is all I say as I tug him back toward myself. He comes closer to the bed and I can see the slight panic in his eyes as I scoot over and remove the pillow on my right sight. I throw back the covers and pull on his hand.
"Scully," he says reverently, fear of overstepping- and fear of my state of mind, I'm sure, lacing his tone. "Are you sure?"
I nod mutely and yank him closer again. He slowly climbs into the bed and lays on his back, as far away from me as he can, but that's not what I want. I've still got his hand in mine, so I lay on my side, facing away from him, and pull his arm over my waist, tucking his palm under my cheek. I scoot myself back into him and hum my gratitude as he gets the message and rolls over to spoon my body with his. "Thank you," I say to him softly.
He pauses for a moment. I feel him breathe in the scent of my hair. "Anything for you, Scully. Anything."
The anxious images from my nightmare fade away as I begin to fall asleep peacefully in his arms to the thought and hope that, no matter what happens, I have him and he has me. Someday really soon, I'll tell him about my feelings for him. I'll tell him before it's too late… and maybe if I'm lucky, he'll feel that same way about me as I do about him. A warm rush of contentedness washes over me.
When I wake up the next morning, he and I are still in the same position. I revel in the weight of his arm on me. I carefully scoot as close as I can to him and listen to his soft breathing. Laying there, I'm positive that everything will be all right. This is where I'm meant to be.