She had no idea how the window opened.
It was January in DC, not exactly the warmest time of year. But then again the heating in her apartment was old, and it could get stuffy quite quickly. In her sleep she supposed anything could happen. She could have opened it, wanting to cool down a room too warm. She wouldn't have noticed save for the rustle of papers that woke her, the rippling sound of a book, it's leaves fluttering in the breeze. Startled by the noise, she blinked in the pre-dawn darkness, searching for the source. With feet cold on her carpet, she rushed to the billowing drapes slamming shut the window as she turned, bleary eyed to the damage done.
Papers strewn across the floor, her Bible, still left out from the previous morning's mass, fluttered open. She gathered what was strewn and set it by the scriptures, sleepily stumbling to her bed. The large, red numbers on her alarm clock blinked at her. A power outage? She reached for it, prepared to set it right.
The numbers read "666".
Shock hit her, sleep-confused eyes widening as she shook her head. But even as she blinked, the clock flashed, going dark and then coming back again as 6:06 AM.
The light at her bedside flashed into brilliance.
The muzziness left her as Scully sank to her mattress, staring first at the clock, then the window, then the light on beside her. There must have been a storm in the night that was all. Power was knocked out briefly, but now it was back on.
Had the clock really read "666"?
Before she could even decide that the whole episode was simply a trick of her sleepy imagination, the phone at the side of her bed rang. Heart in throat, she set the clock down next to it, grabbing the phone off it's cradle.
"Hello?"
"Scully," Mulder's voice on the other end was already tense. Alarms sounded in the back of Scully's mind.
"What is it?"
"Did I wake you?"
"No?" She ran a hand across her face. "Did you have the power go out too?"
"Power?" He sounded confused.
"Never mind." Clearly whatever happened to her must not have hit him in Virginia. "What's up?"
"I just got a phone call from Skinner. There was a break out from the federal penitentiary at Marion, Illinois last night."
"Yeah?" That was usually part of the US Marshall's purview, not the FBI.
"Scully." Mulder paused, hesitancy stirring something fearful in her still waking brain.
"What is it, Mulder?" Irritation mixed with worry as she ran a hand through her sleep-tousled hair.
"Donnie Pfaster was the one who escaped.
That hadn't been what she expected.
"You're sure?" Her room felt very cold all of the sudden.
"When US Marshalls realized who it was they called Skinner immediately."
"Why?" She hoped her voice sounded steadier than she felt. Somewhere in the back of her mind a vision of a demon's face stared out at her from the darkness. She tried not to shiver.
"They want us out on the case. They know we were the ones who caught him last time and hope that we can give them insight into catching him."
Insight…yes. Flashes of a closet, of Donnie Pfaster's hot breath, of his voice, lilting and gravelly all at the same time, purring in her ear. Five years and still she could remember the horror of that incident, the memory of the way his fingers ran through her hair, admiring it...
"Scully?"
"I'm here." She snapped out of her reverie.
"I was saying you don't have to go on this case. Skinner even suggested it. I agree that I can handle the Marshalls. I have the profile, and it's not something I haven't done before."
Irritation immediately flared, overriding whatever half-remember terror she might have been feeling. "Mulder, I'm fine. I can be ready in an hour and I can head with you to Illinois."
"Scully!" Clearly Mulder wasn't happy with this plan.
"Mulder, I'm not staying behind just because you worry I can't handle this."
"I didn't say you couldn't handle it," Mulder replied. "What I worry about is that you believe you can."
"I'm sorry?" Perhaps he wanted to pick a fight in the hopes she would just chose to stay home out of sheer anger.
"Scully, we both know that you would rather eat nails than back out of something. And I'm telling you it's okay this time."
"I didn't realize I needed your permission," she snapped. At her bedside she glanced at the bedside clock.
"I'm not saying that. I'm merely saying that I know how this guy affected you. And I remember better than anyone what he did to you."
Her mouth dried. If it hadn't been for Mulder, his intuition and insight, she would have been dead long before. He had burst in at the last minute just when Donnie Pfaster had gained the advantage.
"Mulder, if I shied away from every situation we run across just because someone had done something bad to me in the past, I'd have no job." She had been kidnapped by others over the years of their work together, from CGB Spender to other killers and it had become a regrettable theme in her life for a while. "I can do this."
He was silent on the other end. She knew he was debating the wisdom of waiting for her versus leaving her behind. If Mulder could have his way at moments like this he would simply wrap her in bubble wrap and leave her someplace safe. And he knew she hated it.
"I promise I'll be okay, she murmured, rising from the bed, heading towards her closet. "It's just a case, Mulder. If we can chase after every child snatcher in the country out there with you being okay, I can handle this."
She knew he would hate that comparison, but she also knew it was an argument that would cause him to give in. The heavy sigh at the end of the phone told her that she had won her argument.
"I'll let Skinner know. He's not going to like this and I don't either."
"It's just a case, Mulder. I'm paid to do this, and I can do my job."
"I know. I'll be by in an hour to pick you up."
"Right. I'll be ready." With that she clicked her phone off, setting it lightly on her dresser as she pulled out undergarments and contemplated this situation. She wasn't going to deny it, deep in her gut the idea of confronting Donnie Pfaster again gnawed at her insides, turning them to liquid. No one had disturbed her the way he had, no other case had bothered her. She was a pathologist, she had seen so much in the world of crime and had never even bat an eyelash, and yet something about Donnie Pfaster had unnerved her. It startled her, that feeling of powerlessness.
She wasn't about to let him do that to her again.
She tossed clothing onto the bed as she wandered into the bath, turning on her shower. Her pajamas were quickly removed and tossed aside as steam rose from the porcelain tub. She glanced in the mirror over her sink, staring at her reflection before she stepped inside the hot water. Her eyes flickered to the gold at the base of her throat...her cross. Her fingers reached for it briefly.
She had thought she had seen a demon that day. Of course, it was likely just her imagination, the fear and stress combined with the darkness of the closet she was in, all combined to allow her mind and eyes play tricks on her. Still…that night, she had wondered…
No, she wouldn't allow Donnie Pfaster and his evil to play these sorts of tricks on her and make her into a fool. She could do this and handle this with the professionalism she always showed, and she would show both Mulder and Skinner that those things that haunted her past were not necessarily things that would prevent her from doing her job. And perhaps if she said it enough times before Mulder arrived that gnawing feeling in her gut would go away as well.