Disclaimer: No infringement intended. I don't own the X-Files, I don't Galena IL, but I do own the Driscoll Posse (and I wouldn't be caught dead driving a Grand Marquis)
A/N Again thanks for the reviews and thanks to Chris … for giving me another perspective on "recreational" experiences. There will be more good stuff to come.
Chapter 9
Mulder clawed at the sheets and gasped for air in his sleep. He jerked awake and then looked around the room bewildered. The reality of being safe in the hotel swept over him and he rolled over, sitting up on the edge of the bed. His hair and back were damp from sweat and he felt feverish. He shook his head and tried to remember the dream that woke him. It was a flashback to the accident, being trapped inside the car, a futile attempt to escape, Scully trapped beneath twisted metal and a broken steering wheel.
Mulder dropped his head to his chest and counted backward from ten, then took several deep breaths in an attempt to calm his mind. He stood, reaching his arms over his head and stretched his back, and chest and rolled his neck. His muscles were extremely sore and the pain was causing his whole body to tense. He walked to the bathroom and took another dose of his medication. As he walked back to the bed, he turned on the TV and grabbed the cell phone.
Out of habit, Mulder dialed Scully's number and listened to the entire message before remembering that the phone was dead. He pushed the end button and frowned, throwing the phone on the bed. I don't want to wake her, he thought, despite being anxious to hear her voice. "Two thirty", he mumbled incoherently as he began to channel surf.
Mulder wasn't the only victim of a restless night as Scully struggled with nightmares as well. In her version, she was being smothered by an entity that attacked when she was least expecting it.
"Mulder," she cried as she gasped for air and lifted her head from the pillow. She woke slowly from her slumber, the scene before her morphing from the attack in Skinner's office to the comfort of her room. She struggled to roll over and sit up on the bed, her breaths ragged and uneven, her pulse racing from the images chasing her in her dreams.
She stood from the bed and stumbled into the bathroom to splash cold water on her face. As she reached the sink, a wave of nausea assaulted her and Scully barely made the stretch to the toilet in time. Leaning her head over the bowl as her stomach contracted to empty its contents, she was overcome by emotion. Tears stained her face while she coughed and sobbed uncontrollably.
When her stomach settled and the moment of dizziness passed, Scully pulled herself up to the sink and washed her face with a wash cloth. She placed a hand on her chest in a meager attempt to slow her breathing and tried to think of something to relax her. Those thoughts kept circling back to Mulder.
A soft knock at the door startled Scully, and she stood quietly in the bathroom, listening intently to ensure that she wasn't hearing things. I hope my coughing didn't wake anyone, she thought as she shuffled into the room. The second knock was softer than the first and was barely audible.
"Just a minute," Scully said as she reached for her bathrobe. She put one arm into the sleeve, felt her chest muscles pull, and then dropped the robe back on the bed. Knock on my door at 2:00 in the morning, this is what you get, Scully thought to herself. She stepped over to the door and pulled it open. No one was there.
Scully stood motionless for a moment and looked back toward her bed, her eyes dancing around the room, lit only from the moonlight outside. She ran her tongue across her lips and leaned out of the doorway, looking down the hall. The outline of someone standing near the top of the stairs was visible in the darkened corridor.
"Excuse me," she called softly, trying not to be loud. The figure hesitated for a moment and then started down the stairs. What the hell? Scully thought to herself as she walked quickly in that direction, trying to catch the person. Knock on my door and then run down the hall. There was no one on the stairs when she reached the top.
Scully stared at the railing and then looked around the hallway with arched eyebrows. The air at the top of the stairs was unusually cold, and she started to shiver. Scully shook her head and walked back to her room, rubbing her upper arms as she went. "I'm losing my mind"she mumbled and then laughed quietly. "This would be a turn on for Mulder." She shook her head at the irony.
Scully walked back into her room and shut the door. Once she had settled between the covers, she lapsed quickly into sleep. It wasn't long before the nightmares plagued her again. First smoking man followed her down the corridor at the FBI headquarters and taunted her with his cigarette; and then Krycek and the bounty hunter stalked her in the street in front of her apartment. Scully rolled restlessly in the bed trying to fight the demons. The most shocking image she encountered was a cake box Kersh handed her which contained Mulder's head.
She sat up, grimacing in pain from the quick movement. She looked around the room searching for comfort and spied the phone sitting on the nightstand. She didn't hesitate to dial his number, knowing somehow inside that he would be awake. He answered on the second ring.
"Mulder," he answered. He knew it was Scully from the caller id.
"It's me," she replied, her voice wavering at the sound of his. Her eyes filled with tears and began to stain her face. In seconds her emotions took control.
"Scully," he called to her as he heard her voice crack on the line. "Are you okay?"
The question was rhetorical since she obviously wasn't. Mulder listened to her as she sobbed uncontrollably. His heart was breaking for his inability to hold her, to comfort her and quiet her sobs. He was helpless to aid her in her plight and the only condolence he could offer was a simple sound, "Shhhhh".
He listened quietly, his own tears stinging his eyes, until her breathing sounded more controlled, then treaded lightly to determine the cause of her meltdown.
"Wanna talk about it?"
Scully sniffled and ran her tongue across her lip. She laughed nervously before starting.
"I had a nightmare about the accident," she croaked out, still sniffling. "It was just stupid, but it wouldn't go away. I got up and tried to think about something else but it was haunting me." She felt relieved to say it and to hear the reassurance in his voice.
"Scully," he replied, speaking softly. "It's normal to have that reaction. It's a natural defense mechanism our body has. It's how the mind processes a traumatic episode."
She didn't respond to his comment, although he could hear her on the phone line. "Scully, it's okay. I had my own bout of nightmares tonight as well, which is why I'm awake at 2:30 a.m."
"I didn't have them last night," she blurted out unexpectedly. Scully had been comparing both nights in her head, but she hadn't meant to say it aloud.
Mulder laughed quietly at her comment, careful not to offend. "Well, I would like to say that was because of me…but it probably has more to do with the medication you were on."
Scully bit her lip and nodded, thinking about the incident in the hallway. "You're probably right, Mulder. The medication is making me loopy. I've started to hear and see things."
"Whhh… what do you mean, see and hear things?"
Scully sighed. "I was in the bathroom and I thought I heard someone knocking at the door, so I answered it, but no one was there."
"Maybe it was the wind," Mulder offered although he knew better. On the drive to the Quad Cities, Driscoll had told him the house was haunted. Mulder was envious that Scully had experienced the spirit without him.
"Then I thought I saw someone standing in the hallway, but when I tried to talk to him or her …" Scully stopped talking, realizing that she had just opened the trap door.
Mulder waited for her to finish, when she didn't, he prompted her for more. "Scully?"
"Mulder, it was nothing. There was nothing there. I was standing in the hallway alone in my pajamas shivering and I just went back to bed," she said impatiently, irritated at herself for bringing it up.
"It was cold in the hallway?" Mulder asked, intrigued by her admission.
"Yes."
"But not in your room?"
"No, what are you getting at?" She was getting annoyed with him.
Hmmm, temperature change from the bedroom to the hallway, Mulder thought quickly. That's a sign of paranormal activity. "Maybe it was Betty," he replied nodding his head in thought.
"Betty?" She questioned. "Is she another guest?"
Mulder put the phone down on his leg and covered his mouth to muffle his laughter. He knew his response was going to tick her off and he just wanted to enjoy it for a second. He put the phone back to his ear and took a deep breath in an attempt to calm his voice.
"No, ummm Betty is the spirit of the house," he replied calmly, then added "Dris's Great Aunt."
There was silence from Scully's end of the line and for a moment Mulder thought she had hung up. He pulled the phone from his ear and checked to make sure they were still connected.
Scully had pulled the phone from her ear and rolled her eyes. The irony was incredible. He is not going to make this an X-file, she thought to herself. She picked the phone up and pursed her lips in frustration.
"Mulder, what are you saying?" She asked, choosing her words carefully. He better not say … ahhh. If he says that, I'm going to be pissed, she shook her head and steeled herself for his response.
"I'm saying… repeating, rather… what Dris told me earlier today. His Great Aunt Betty's spirit roams around the house." He climbed out of the bed and started pacing around the room preparing for the lecture he was sure she was going to give him.
Scully listened intently to his response and his attempt to sound innocent. She shook her head, not believing his audacity. "Driscoll's Aunt who died over 25 years ago?"
"Well, it was more like 75 years, but yes."
"Mulder," Scully started ensuring her point was clear. "Do not make this an X file."
Mulder smiled and laughed into the phone. "Scully, I'm not at all. I swear. Dris told me this afternoon that the house was haunted. People have seen and heard this entity, which the family has affectionately named after Aunt Betty. That's it."
"You're sure?" She questioned, not believing him.
"Yes, I'm positively not making it an X-File," he replied sternly. "Although, the fact that you were cold in the hallway and warm in your bedroom is an indication of paranormal…"
"Mulder!" she yelled into the phone cutting him off. She winced when she realized how loud her voice was and covered her mouth in embarrassment, hoping she hadn't disturbed the other guests. She started to giggle as a result.
Mulder smiled when he heard the laugh and knew that she was going to be ok for the rest of the night. He sat down on the bed and felt the Flexeril kick in.
"Scully," he said, somewhat seriously, "are you feeling better?"
She took a quick inventory and realized how at ease their conversation had made her. "Yes."
"That's good…I'm glad I could help. I'm really glad you reached out to me." He sincerely meant it, because she could have easily have called Cramer instead. He sighed and realized how exhausted he had become. He hesitated a moment, not wanted to end the conversation.
"Scully, not that I don't want to talk to you all night, but my muscle relaxant just kicked in and I can feel my eye lids getting heavy," he finally confessed. "I'd keep talking but I'm afraid I'd be snoring shortly." He lay back on the bed and struggled to keep his eyes opened.
"Okay, get some rest." Scully replied reluctantly, not wanted to end their conversation, but feeling fatigued as well. "Mulder?"
"Hmmm?"
"Don't sell yourself short," she said softly.
"What do you mean?" he mumbled into the phone as his eyes fluttered closed.
"It wasn't the medication that stopped my nightmares last night."
tbc
A/N. This was a hard chapter to write because I wanted to make sure that I captured the right feel for the nightmares and how each character would deal with it individually without losing their personality.
The same goes for "the phone call". We've all been on the receiving end of "that call" … when the person on the other end is so emotionally charged and hysterical he/she can't even speak. What little they know is that we can't speak either (lol …. Not that its funny, but it is … what the heck do you say to a person like that?) The times we have seen Scully like this, she usually collapses into Mulder's arms. Since they are physically separated in my story, (about 70 miles) I had to come up with the next best thing. The ole 'shhhhhhh' trick.
