To bookyalex: how did you know something bad was going to happen?! You're absolutely ESPing me!
To daydr3am3r: just for you I changed Brittany to Bethany. I hope no one out there is named Bethany.
Chapter 7: Dark Secrets and Dark Attics
Mulder and Scully crossed that invisible line without any verbal admission of such. There was no "Will you be my girlfriend?" no first date. They just became whatever it was that they were. Even so, they went through the initial phase of not being able to keep their hands off each other. After all, they were only teenagers.
Instead of flaunting their relationship, though, they decided to keep it between themselves. Neither of them wanted to draw attention to themselves by proving the rumors correct. Surprisingly enough, it was not that difficult to keep their private life separate from their, well, public life. This worked only because of how well they knew each other. They spoke volumes with just their eyes.
One Thursday afternoon about two weeks after their first kiss, Mulder and Scully sat on his couch, sipping Coca-Cola and studying for Scully's upcoming Pre-Calculus test. As Mulder and Scully sat side-by-side, both focused on the book in Scully's lap, Scully sighed in exasperation.
"I will never understand matrices! Much less augmented matrices!"
Mulder patiently took the notebook off the couch and opened it to a fresh sheet of loose-leaf paper, "Here, I'll show you. They're just big puzzles. It's an easy way to solve multiple-variable equations."
Mulder drew an augmented matrix according to the set of equations for the first problem. "You want to get the matrix part on the left to be the identity matrix, so we'll pick a row to start with. I always start on the bottom, so you can work your way up. The bottom has to be zero, zero, one, so we'll divide the whole bottom row by five to simplify it. Then, well multiply the middle row by negative two and add it to the bottom row. Do you see how that cleans up the last row?" Mulder asked, looking up from the paper now covered in his barely decipherable handwriting.
Scully studied the paper sitting in Mulder's lap, her brow furrowing in frustration. After seconds had passed, she looked up under Mulder's gaze. "What?" she smiled.
"You're so cute when you're confused," Mulder teased.
Scully laughed and playfully slapped his arm, only to have her hand intercepted midair. Mulder looked into her eyes over her hand, daring her to pull her hand back as he kissed each knuckle. Sensing that she was rising to the challenge, he lowered her hand and moved towards her lips. They kissed once. Twice. Three times. Just as they were about to deepen the kiss, Scully pulled away, her frustration at her math consuming her mind. "Fine, Mulder. You win! I really need to study this."
Mulder smiled triumphantly before obediently turning back to the task at hand. "After you set one row into the order that you want, the next two are easy. You just use this row to manipu- " his instructions were cut off by a crashing in the garage that connected to the house by way of a door in the kitchen. Confusion washed over Scully's face as the color drained out of Mulder's.
"Mulder, what was th- " Scully's sentence was cut off when Mulder yanked her off the couch and towards the back hallway. He left her standing as he turned back towards the living room, inspecting the living room with a trained eye. Before returning to Scully, Mulder had grabbed both of their bookbags and half-empty Coke bottles and the picture of him and his sister Scully had first picked up months before. He shoved the backpacks and
"Shh, come on," Mulder instructed in a fierce whisper. Scully opened her mouth to protest but closed it quickly as Mulder dragged her through the weaving hallway and up a creaky stairway that he revealed through an old, rarely used door. Mulder shut the door quietly behind them as Scully watched for the next instruction.
"Only step on the second, third, fifth, seventh, tenth, eleventh, and thirteenth stair," Mulder replied to Scully's unasked question. Scully looked at him strangely. Mulder waved his hands in the air as if to erase his last comment. "Nevermind that. Just step only where I step. The stairs are incredibly noisy."
Scully did as she was told. She only paused on the seventh step so that Mulder could help her skip two steps because her short stature did not allow her the long legs that Mulder had inherited. They reached the top step, and Mulder slowly opened the door at the top of the stairs, pulling slightly upward on the doorknob as he pressed forward to eradicate the squeaking of the rusty hinges. As Scully stood at the entrance of a dusty attic, Mulder closed the door behind them. Scully turned towards him as he let out a sigh, waiting for his explanation. None came.
"Well?"
Mulder looked at her as if startled by her presence.
Scully repeated her question, "What was that about?"
"That? Oh, that. Um, it was nothing," Mulder grasped for an excuse.
"You're lying."
Mulder took that as a declaration rather than an accusation and did not try to defend himself. He led her to the back corner of the attic, close to the window. As Scully sat down on the floor next to him, she wrapped her arms around her legs and sighed. "Will you tell me when you're ready?"
"Uh huh."
Mulder's last statement, however incoherent, hung in the air between them. Scully used the silence to study her new habitat. The corner in which they sat was protected from view by anyone entering the haphazardly piled boxes that sat on the other side of Mulder. Scully was sandwiched between the wall whose lack of drywall exposed a series of electrical wires, much like any other unfinished attic or basement, and a very uneasy Mulder. Across the attic from them, as well as the rest of the attic that Scully suspected ran the length of the house itself, was littered with old furniture covered in dusty white sheets and old chests filled with the treasures of the past. A mattress rested opposite of Scully against the wall on which she leaned her head. The only light came through the window on that same wall; its beams of light reflected off the dust floating in the air. For a moment in time, their world was still.
Mulder opened his mouth to explain what was going on when another crash downstairs made both Mulder and Scully visibly flinch.
"FOX!" a deep voice boomed from what Scully would guess is the living room. The voice's beckon was answered with silence. "I know you're home, FOX! Your fucking car is in MY driveway," the voice spat. Once again, the color left Mulder's already pale face.
"I…uh..um, I'll be right back, Scully. Don't move, okay," Mulder whispered.
Scully looked at him quizzically.
"DON'T COME DOWNSTAIRS FOR ANYTHING!" Mulder ordered in a tone somewhere between a barked command and a stern whisper.
"Ah..uh, okay," Scully stuttered.
"You have to swear! It'll only make it worse," Mulder insisted as another "FOX!" rattled the windows in their panes.
"I won't!" Scully whispered back. Before she could say another word, Mulder had stealthily snuck out of the attic and down the staircase. Scully strained to hear what was going on below her, but only fragments of Mulder's responses floated up to her ears.
"You sonovabitch! Why didn't you come when I called you the first time?!" the voice boomed.
"I..I was on the john, Dad," Mulder answered fearfully.
"You fucking liar! You lie, just like your mother, that bitch!!"
"No, Dad, I'm not lying!" Mulder pleaded.
Meanwhile, upstairs, Scully clutched her knees closer to her chest.
At this point, she could not make out any more conversation. She heard glass breaking, and the disgusting sound of flesh hitting flesh. Every time she heard a crash, she jumped. Harder and harder her body shook until it climaxed into violent convulsions. It took all of her will power to stay grounded to the unfinished hardwood floors.
About fifteen minutes into the torrent that attacked their peaceful studying, Scully heard a door slam, and the squeal of tires on the pavement. She crawled to the window and peered out just as the man, Mulder's father, drove down the road. She shakily counted to five before going downstairs. As she headed toward the stairwell, she tried to remember the pattern. "Thirteen, eleven, ten…ah, screw it!" Scully threw her hands up in disgust as she bounded down the stairs and into the living room. The scene before her stopped her in her tracks.
Books, papers, glass, and furniture strewn everywhere. She was shocked. As soon as she spotted Mulder, lying on the floor at the foot of the couch. "Mulder!" she was at his side in an instant.
"Mulder, move your hands from your head. I have to see how bad it is," Scully cooed soothingly, though she herself could not help but shake.
"I'm fine," Mulder argued.
"No, you're not. Do you have a first aid kit?" Scully continued.
"Ooo, do we get to play doctor?!" Mulder jeered in a weak attempt to distract her. Scully's glare stopped his protests. "Down the hall, under the sink."
Scully took her time cleaning and bandaging his wounds. Midway through, though, a thought interrupted her progress, "Should we go back upstairs?"
Mulder shook his head, "He won't come home until late tonight. Or early tomorrow."
Twenty minutes later, much to his own protest, Mulder lied on the couch as Scully tidied up as best she could while she demanded explanation.
"My father's always been…an angry person. Always yelling, going off at the slightest disturbance. It wasn't until after Sam was kidnapped that he became physical. It coincided with his renewed interest in alcohol. Dad was a recovering alcoholic. Was, that is, until five years ago. Now, he comes home at odd hours, usually drunk. That's when the fights break out."
Scully was silent for a few moments as she concentrated on the shards of glass, remnants of a cheery potpourri holder. "Then we should stay at my house."
"No, because sometimes my mom is home. If I'm not here, no one will defend her."
Scully scowled as she pricked her finger on a shard. "Scully, don't clean that up, I'll get it later."
"No, I'm almost done, then we'll go to my house for dinner."
"But- "Mulder began to protest, but Scully had already expected this.
"Mom'll let us take food to the upstairs living room. She doesn't ask questions."
"Okay," he conceded.
Silence lay between them for a good five minutes.
"Scully?"
"Mm, hmm?" she asked as she put the last pillow in its place.
"Thank you."
A small, sad smile upturned the edges of her mouth. She leaned in and gave him a short, sweet kiss. "You're welcome."