The Hallowed Compound
Sherman Oaks, California
6:02 P.M. Sunday
As the men left the gathering hall, Scully felt the tension evaporate from the room. The women weren't spontaneously welcoming, their lips were still pursed shut as they glanced at her like she was an animal in the zoo, exotic and frightening, but the looming threat of violence had gone away and she could see the women were all starting to stand a little taller.
"Hi, I should properly intro-" she began, only to be silenced by a sharp shushing from one of the older women.
She glanced over her shoulder and saw a few men were in the process of shutting the door. Apparently even that was too close. Deciding it would likely be better to follow their lead than speak out of turn again, she turned to face them, waiting for someone else to break the silence.
The sound of the door latch clicking into place had the same effect as an audible sigh amongst the women. The same one who shushed her turned and stated, "I'm sorry, but we are not allowed to speak outside of the house unless given permission - even so, never in the presence of the men."
"Not even to our husbands?" Scully asked, wanting to laugh at the ridiculousness of the notion. It explained why the boy who drove them to the compound seemed so perturbed by her talking.
The women shared glances, as if they were repressing an urge to laugh at her. "No," a woman with short blonde hair answered curtly.
Scully swallowed the pleasant smirk that had been on her face in favor of pursing her lips. It looked like the female camaraderie she'd been hoping for wasn't going to come as easily as she'd hoped.
"Our duties as women here are to tend to the children, make sure our husbands are provided three meals a day, and keep a tidy living space," the older woman repeated. "We are to get up at six so we can make our husbands breakfast, and you are expected to be in the washing area by eight with any dirty clothes that have accumulated."
"W-where is the washing area?" Scully stammered, unsure if she'd be able to get a word in.
"Follow us," she stated, leading the women and children out of the Gathering Hall, though, not before peeking her head out to make sure the men were gone.
The older woman and Sally led the pack, and the rest followed in a haphazard manner. Scully was trying to familiarize herself with faces when she felt a hand grab her leg. Looking down, she saw a small toddler stumbling to try and keep up with her. She smiled before bending down and hoisting the toddler on her hip, wanting to appear that she was ready to take on the task of tending to the children immediately. And, admittedly, she was unable to resist.
"Hi," she said in a high pitched tone, brushing the long brown bangs from the child's face which was framed by two long braids. "What's your name?" she asked.
"Annabewll," the girl replied, grabbing a fistful of Scully's hair and tugging it behind her ear, replicating what Scully'd just done to her but with the clumsiness of a child.
"That's a beautiful name," Scully replied, deciphering it as Annabelle.
"Thank you," the child's mother murmured from beside her.
Scully turned and saw a demure looking woman with blonde hair twisted into a plait running down her spine. "Nice to meet you," Scully said, letting the girl grab onto her finger but trying to keep her from putting it in her mouth. "My name's Katherine."
"I'm Lorraine," the girl replied with a smile. "Wife of Ed."
"Oh," Scully replied before awkwardly adding. "I'm, er- Wife of Robert."
"Katherine's such a pretty name," a teenager said from in front of them, turning on her heel so she could walk backwards and face them while talking. "Hi, I'm Laurie, -"
"Laurie, turn back around before you twist your ankle," someone snapped. The girl looked Scully in the eye and widened them in mockery before doing what she was told.
"Nice to meet you," Scully said to the girl, feeling bad that she was snapped at.
She was distracted as the girl in her arms grabbed her nose with her whole hand and declared, "Nose!"
"Yes, it is," Scully chuckled, her voice sounding nasally, making the girl squeal with joy.
"Annabelle, be nice," Lorraine said, taking her from Scully and putting the child on her own hip.
"She's fine," Scully laughed.
"That's the washing area, Katherine," Sally remarked from up front. "We like to wash our clothes from yesterday every morning so there's never any filth in the home," she added.
Scully internally figured the truth was that there was only so much for them to do, and it possibly was one of the times they could socialize while the men were all at work. "Do I need to bring soap?" she asked.
"No, that's Sally's job. You won't need to worry about that. Have you ever used a washboard and clothesline before?" the older woman asked.
"I'm afraid I haven't," Scully answered.
"You'll get used to it," she replied curtly.
"Thank you," Scully nodded before adding. "I'm afraid I didn't catch your name."
"Vicky, Wife of Burt."
All of the 'wife of' talk reminded her of that Margaret Atwood book. Would she be Ofrobert? The name Ofmulder crossed her mind and it made her want to smile, but Vicky clapped her hands together, drawing everyone's attention to her. "Okay ladies, what advice do you all have for Katherine?"
There was an awkward pause as everyone stared at her. Scully smiled uncomfortably, hoping to dissolve the tension, but only the girl Laurie smiled back. "I have one," a mousy woman with black hair said, stepping forward. "Um, try to learn how to use the wash board with both hands, so one side doesn't cramp up," she stated shyly with a proud smile.
"Oh," Scully replied. "Thank y-"
"She meant about assimilating to the group," someone sighed in exasperation at the woman, whose smile faltered on her face as she took a step back.
"My advice would be to expect a change, even the most calm men become exuberant and driven after being here for a while," a blonde woman replied.
"Robert's always been pretty exuberant," Scully replied kindly.
"Expect a change," she reiterated.
Scully simply swallowed and nodded, looking around for further instructions.
"Sometimes the men are riled up after getting back at night. It's best to just go along with them," the shortest woman said.
"Make sure you have breakfast ready before he leaves," another added. Scully opened her mouth to reply, but they were starting to give her tips faster than she could respond to.
"Sometimes, when things are hard, I like to sing my favorite song in my head, focusing on if I can get all the lyrics right," Sally admitted softly.
Scully felt her heartbeat starting to pick up as she heard the undertones of what these women were saying. "Do they-," she started, getting interrupted by a woman with dark black hair and icy blue eyes.
"Don't fuck up," she stated in a lifeless voice.
"Rosemary!" Vicky snapped, turning to the woman angrily.
She was being reprimanded for swearing, but Scully just met her unwavering gaze. This was Neil's wife. She was exactly as he'd described her, only she was pale and gaunt, blotches of color marring her pale skin.
And alive.
"Rosemary," Scully beamed, playing ignorant. "That's a lovely name. Who's your husband?"
A deathly silence fell over the women as they all looked at the ground, as if an unspoken secret had been dredged up and they were all uncomfortable. Rosemary looked at her and replied, "Wife of Jason."
So it was as Neil had described. They get passed around. The men are disposable, but the women are a commodity. "Well, we don't want to overwhelm the poor girl," Sally replied, a nervous chuckle in her tone. "Why don't all of you return home. Lorraine, do you think you could show Katherine around her and Robert's property?"
"Yes, Ma'am," Lorraine replied with a small nod.
The rest of the group disbanded until it was just the two of them and Annabelle. The compound was laid out like a stereotypical suburban complex, there were rows upon rows of houses, she couldn't tell how many, but it seemed they were in a square formation, like blocks. Each home was about twenty feet apart, giving space but not too much. Deeper in the compound, there was the Great Hall, and then ultimately going up the hill seemed to be where the men did their work.
Scully was taken away from her visual inventory by the woman next to her. "That must've been a lot to process," Lorraine chuckled, setting Annabelle down so she could hold her hand.
Annabelle extended her other hand to Scully who took it with a smile as they walked down the dirt road, sometimes swinging the girl in between them when she playfully let her feet give out. "Um, it was. I can't lie," Scully admitted with a laugh."How long have you and Ed been here?" she asked.
"About ten years now," Lorraine admitted with a nod.
"Ten years?"
"Yeah," Lorraine nodded. "Ed wracked up some pretty bad gambling debt, but the Hallowed gave him a place to stay where debt collectors couldn't find him."
Scully made a mental note to write that down in her journal for her field report. The Hallowed covers up crime in quid pro quo for manual labor. "Do you like it here?"
"Well enough," the woman shrugged. "You and I are lucky, we were married entering in. I think it's much harder for the girls in arrangements."
"How so?" Scully asked, playing dumb.
"We already had a trust with our husbands, we know what they've done and still love them," she replied, pausing before admitting: "Some of the other girls aren't so lucky and they end up with men who aren't very kind. There are a lot of those here."
Scully nodded. She had most certainly picked up on that little tidbit. "Did you experience a change with your husband like they were mentioning?" she asked.
Lorraine looked at her as if to communicate she thought that was ridiculous and shook her head. "No, I think it's just that the men here are so… primal, I suppose you could say. If a man has always wanted to act like a brute, it comes out here, but if your husband is civilized and respects women, no. He shouldn't change," she replied. "I understand I'm lucky when I say that though. Ed is kind and gentle. You probably won't see him much. He's in charge of communicating with potential recruits because he is so sweet. People find him easy to talk to," she continued.
Annabelle started making nonsensical noises as if to mimic talking and the women looked at each other and laughed. "So, you have a computer here?" Scully asked.
"Only one. There are no phones or really good internet connection here. He can only communicate with people through the site. I was actually eager to meet you, he said he enjoyed talking to Robert and his heart really went out to him," Lorraine explained, motioning towards a house marked 1408.
"Oh really?" Scully replied, letting go of Annabelle as they walked up the porch steps.
"Yeah, he said Robert was really into the Baltimore Orioles," she replied. "Ed loves all sports, but there aren't a lot of baseball fans around here for him to nerd out with and that's his favorite."
Scully felt herself smile at the fact she was going to have to tell Mulder he was going to have to root for A.D. Skinner's team, undoubtedly an influence coming directly from his involvement in the online chat operation. "Mine too," Scully sharing a smile with the woman as she remembered an early birthday present given to her at the batting cages.
"Well," she sighed. "This is your home from here on out. I know I'm supposed to give you a tour, but I'm afraid it's not too exciting. It's furnished, stocked full of food. It gets restocked every Sunday, so you should be all set to go. Vicky said she put your bags upstairs earlier. Is there anything you think you need?" she asked.
"I think I'd like to explore myself, but thank you so much for your kindness," Scully replied.
"Absolutely. If you need anything, please let me know. I live four houses down that way. I know it might not seem like I'm popular with most of the group, but they get jealous when they see happy marriages," she whispered.
Scully nodded, storing that information for later before thanking her again, waving at Annabelle as they walked away.
Closing the door, Scully turned around and let her back fall against the cool wood, letting out a long, exasperated sigh. She took a glance around the kitchen, and it looked to be a standard, common mid-70s home. It was quaint and sweet, the yellow wallpaper fading with age and breaking apart in certain sections, but fine nonetheless.
She walked around a bit and found the kitchen, which also acted like a dining room, led straight into the living room. There was no TV, surely something Mulder would be disappointed with, but there were plenty of furnishings and a table adorned with some family-friendly board games and various editions of the Bible. The living room also had a stairway which led up to a wrap around landing opening to three different rooms. One was their bedroom, another the bathroom, and the last was an empty room, likely for any potential children.
She walked into their bedroom and looked around. There was one window, looking out into a vineyard, but no matter how hard she looked, she couldn't see anyone. Blaming it on the darkness, she turned around and surveyed the room.
The first thing that stood out to her was the bed. Singular bed. She'd expected it, but being faced with the reality that she'd be sharing the night on a queen bed with Mulder made butterflies flutter in her stomach. Deciding she didn't want to focus on that right now, she turned to other things in the room.
She found their closet was stocked with row upon row of the same outfits, apparently their uniform. She glanced in the nearby dresser and saw there were several slips, presumably her pyjamas. She slid her dress over her head, setting it in a nearby hamper before taking out one of the garments and holding it up. It was a simple silky dress, a little shorter than the day dress, but it had spaghetti straps and two triangles to cover her chest before the fabric just hung. She slid it over her head before padding to the bathroom and flicking on the light to take a look. It was a bit revealing, but flattering nonetheless - something that both made her nervous and excited for Mulder to see her in.
Speaking of, she wasn't quite sure when he'd be coming back, so she decided to grab her journal and wait downstairs, writing down everything she'd learned and experienced that day so they could relay it once they got ahold of the phone.
Scully lost track of time while doing that, but she started to feel nervous when she realized she'd written twenty pages and still hadn't heard Mulder return. Trying to stifle her worry, she decided to try to map out the name of every person they'd come in contact with and what she'd learned about them so far. A cult-y family tree of sorts.
She was just finishing up with the women of the Hallowed when she heard the distinct sound of shuffling coming from outside. Standing up and opening the main door while flipping on the porch light, she was met with the sight of two brooding men all but dragging a sweaty, limp Mulder up the porch steps.
"What happened to him?" she asked, throwing the screen door open and cupping her hands around Mulder's face. His eyes were glassy and his skin felt clammy, but he looked like he was gaining his bearings. "What. Happened. To. Him?" she restated, looking between the two men.
Both were staring at her, raking their eyes over her nightdress, but she was too worried about Mulder to care. Saying nothing, they just continued leering at her before letting go of Mulder so that she had to stumble to avoid being crushed by the onslaught of his weight leaning against her.
"He looks hurt," she barked as the two men descended the porch steps.
She was met with more silence as the two men just walked off into the darkness of the night. Deeming her not worthy of speaking to.
"Mulder, it's me," she greeted in a shaky voice quiet enough not to be heard by eavesdroppers, brushing his hair back in an attempt to get him to look at her, though it only resulted in his head lolling backwards. "Can you hear me?"
"Hi, Scully," he groaned, stumbling as he tried to gain his footing.
"We need to get inside," she whispered, trying to look around and see if anyone was nearby.
With great effort, she was able to drag him backwards into the house with her, taking a moment to lock the door behind them. "Mulder, what happened?" she asked as she sat him down on the kitchen chair she'd just vacated.
"I saw her, Scully," he replied, looking at her with more focus than before.
"What?" she asked, not understanding but wanting to desperately.
Mulder leaned his elbow on the table and looked up at her intently, "I saw Samantha."
Her brow furrowed as her concern grew. "What do you mean?"
"I was down in some basement they use for their meeting place and I just saw her. It's like I was transported somewhere else. The other side, what Neil mentioned, he was telling the truth," he answered, utterly convinced in what he was saying.
"What did they give you?" she asked. She knew many cults used drugs as a means of coercion, they probably gave him something and he was hallucinating.
"It's not like that, Scully. It was real, I could smell her, I felt her," he lamented.
Scully wanted to believe him, but he wasn't making any sense. "You look awful, Mulder," she stated, switching topics. "Are you hurt?"
It was as if her question sparked something inside of him because he sat up with a confused look on his face and reached around to his back before wincing. "Let me see," she murmured, making him twist in his seat as she crouched down. She gasped when she saw the shirt covering the base of his spine was stained red.
She swatted his hand away and pulled his shirt up carefully. Right there on his lower back was an angry, red, circular scorch mark. "They branded you?" she yelled, furious that they hadn't been warned earlier about this possibly happening.
"I think so, I'm not sure," he replied.
Being as careful as she could, she pulled the hem of the shirt up his torso and helped him ease his arms and head out of it before letting it fall to the floor. She inspected the rest of his body for wounds as she asked, "What do you mean you're not sure?"
He was malleable to her touch, lifting his arms and moving however she directed him to. "It's what I just said, Scully, I was somewhere else and I was pulled out from the pain on my back."
"Did you feel groggy when you woke up?" she asked, trying to figure out if it was maybe rohypnol or something like that.
"Scully," he repeated, grabbing one of her wrists lightly so she would stop her movements and look at him, which she did begrudgingly. She couldn't remember the last time he'd looked at her so imploringly, pouring his entire heart out through his eyes. "I wasn't asleep, I was fully awake. You have to believe me. I only drank something that everyone else drank, no one else experienced what I did so it wasn't that and I didn't ingest anything else."
"What did it taste like?" she asked, gazing into his eyes to check for abnormal dilation. "Was it bitter?"
He made a groaning sound and let his head fall backwards in frustration before looking at her again. "It was real, they couldn't have known anything about Samantha."
"No, but you do and that's what matters," she repeated. "Follow me, I need to clean your back so it doesn't get infected."
She watched as he sat up, more steady on his feet than he had been earlier, but she still wrapped his arm around her neck as they walked up the stairs.
"She used to do this thing when I teased her. She'd scrunch up her eyes and stick out her tongue at me," he explained, sounding like he was holding back emotion. "I didn't even remember it but she- I saw her-," he added, coughing to clear his throat when he couldn't finish the sentence.
Regardless of what truly happened in that basement, it was affecting Mulder on a profound level. She didn't want to fight about it anymore because it was still too fresh and she didn't want to offend him. "And no one else saw anything? Their loved ones?" She asked.
She flipped on the bathroom light switch and shut the toilet lid, indicating for him to sit down. He brushed past her and sat on the lid in reverse, his legs on either side as he faced the wall, leaning forward so she had better access to his back. They'd brought the first aid kit hoping that they wouldn't need it, but here she was having to use it on the first night.
"I-I don't think so," he replied as she kneeled behind him. "I think it's like Neil said, they let me see so I'd be hooked in."
She let out a little huff of humorless laughter through her nose as she got out the Bactine. His back twisted as he turned to look at her over his shoulder, his mouth curved downward in a pout. "Scully, I'm still as skeptical as you are about what's going on, but you have to believe me. I know what I saw. It was real."
"I believe you, Mulder, but I'm scared," she admitted.
She sprayed the disinfectant on his back and he didn't even wince, the possibility of her not trusting his judgement apparently more painful than this. He turned back around as she continued cleaning the wound, wetting all the caked on blood so she could wipe it away. "I'm sorry about what happened earlier," he stated softly.
"You don't need to apologize, Mulder. It was just a weak man trying to pull a power move," she stated, leaning over to throw the crimson toilet paper into the wastebasket.
He paused, absorbing what she said before switching topics. "What does it look like?"
"It's a circle, about two inches in diameter," she repeated clinically like she was reciting an autopsy. The thought made her throat clench slightly. They'd taken advantage of him, they easily could have killed him if they'd wanted to.
"Well that's one plus I guess," he replied.
"I'm not following. How is being branded possibly a plus?" she deadpanned.
"I've always wanted matching best friend tattoos," he replied with a smile, looking over his shoulder again.
She didn't say anything, just continued applying a bandage over the salve covered wound. A snake eternally eating its own head and a brand mark from getting involved in something way over their heads. What a perfect pair. She let her hands fall into her lap before standing up.
Mulder stood up with her and followed her to the sink where she began washing her hands. "I'm sorry," he replied, sounding like he thought it was the joke that bothered her.
"What if they kill you?" she whispered, barely audible over the tap water.
"I know what to expect now. If I can just try to keep my bearings-" he started, only for her to cut him off.
"But that's just it, you're okay with doing it again. Going to this place or wherever to see your sister. You're putting yourself at risk."
"I-I have to, Scully. She might tell me the truth about what happened. Where she is," he stammered, looking at her through the reflection of the mirror.
She moved to grab her toothbrush and reminded him, "Didn't Neil say he saw a woman he killed, Mulder? If I were you I'd ask some of the other men who they see when they visit the 'other side.' You may already have your answer."
She glanced up to look at him in the mirror and saw he was looking at the ground now, a look of hurt on his face. Setting her toothbrush back down she turned so her back was leaning against the counter so she could face him. "I'm sorry, Mulder. I didn't mean to be insensitive, I'm just upset you were hurt."
"No, no," he replied, shaking his head. "You're right, I'm letting them get to me."
She took a step closer to him, looking up so he was forced to meet her gaze. "I think it's honorable how much you want to get justice for her. I just hate it when that's used against you. I've seen it before and it bothers me," she assured softly.
He nodded before taking a step forward and wrapping his arms around her and pulling her in for a hug she was apt to reciprocate. She let her hands fall onto his upper back, mindful of his wound, as she rested her head against his chest.
"We're going to be okay," he said as if trying to manifest it to be true instead of reassuring her that it was.
She didn't know how to reply so she just nodded against him, his chest hair tickling her cheek. They stood like that for a moment, his hand running up and down her back comfortingly.
"I always forget how short you are without your heels on," he murmured with an audible smirk.
She chuffed a laugh and returned to the sink. "I'm going to get ready for bed, okay?" she replied.
He took the hint and left her alone in the bathroom. As soon as the door was shut, she let out a long sigh and let her head fall into her hands. This wasn't good. The last thing they needed was for Mulder to be strung along by false hope.
She pushed her thoughts aside and got ready for bed: brushing her teeth, her hair, and washing her face. She walked out of the bathroom only to quickly turn back around. "Sorry," she apologized to the naked Mulder standing in the bedroom. She'd only seen his backside, but she got an eyeful.
"We're married, Katherine," he teased. She said nothing and jumped when she felt him touch her elbow. "Mind if I take a turn in there?" he asked.
Turning around, and taking a glimpse down, she saw the attire for men here was apparently just their boxers. "Mhm," she replied, brushing past him.
She heard the sound of the faucet turning on and looked at the bed. She knew this had been inevitable going into the case, but she still felt tense about it. Not that Mulder made her feel uncomfortable -quite the opposite - she was tense because of how much the thought of sharing a bed with him excited her.
On their last undercover case, things were tense between them for an entirely different reason. He'd been still too trusting of Diana, and she'd been building a barrier around herself in preservation of feelings she hadn't yet been ready to admit. But now, Diana was gone and that barrier had withered away.
And they'd kissed.
New Years tradition be damned, there was nothing platonic about that kiss and they both knew it… but that didn't mean they were ready to face it.
She walked over towards the side of the bed farthest from the door and slid under the covers. She was in the process of fluffing up her pillow when the bathroom door opened and Mulder walked back in. "I'm beat," he yawned. "Can you toss me a pillow?"
She looked at him, realizing he presumed she was going to banish him to the couch. "Um, you can stay here, Mulder," she replied, her soft tone sounding thunderous in the stillness of the room.
"Are you sure?" he asked, pleasant surprise poorly contained in his tone.
"Yeah," she nodded. Upon his smile, she added, "Besides, it would look bad if anyone happened to look through the windows to see the man of the house sleeping on the couch."
"Mhm," he agreed with a smirk, all too familiar with their steps forward in their relationship being coded as something else. "Nosy bunch, I wouldn't put it past them."
He slid into bed next to her, mindful of his injury, and laid on his side facing her. She had been on her back, but decided to mirror him, laying on her side so she could look at him. He smirked at her and she couldn't help but smile in return, acknowledging the intimacy of their positions but not wanting to remark on it for fear of breaking the tranquility of their bubble.
He reached one hand out a little bit, letting it lay limply in between them and she took the hint, laying one of her hands on top of his as his fingers started stroking hers. "How did today go for you after we split up?" he asked.
She shrugged with one shoulder, engaging him in his idle thumb war. "Awkward, but okay. I don't think they're comfortable with me. At least, not yet."
His thumb struggled under hers as she pinned it to their joined hands. He smiled and tried wiggling out from under her, but she had him. With a smirk, she released him and they restarted. "Do you remember what Halloran and Neil said about the rendezvous spot?" she asked.
"At the edge of the property, near where the men work, a dead tree with a hollowed trunk," he regurgitated. "I found it earlier today, but I didn't have a chance to go over to it since the attention was all on me, but I should be able to tomorrow."
She turned her face away from him and into the mattress to hide her yawn. "I second that," he laughed, yawning in sympathy.
"We need to tell Halloran about wha' happened to you," she mumbled, her hand falling limply against his.
He brought their joined hands to his mouth and kissed the back of her hand before returning them to the middle of the bed. "Thank you for taking care of me," he whispered, his eyelids closing.
"Of course," she whispered, her own eyelids growing heavy as she fell asleep to the sound of him breathing.