The Thorn Residence

The Hallowed Compound

1:12 P.M. Monday

After Mulder had left to go back to work, Scully decided to wander around outside in hopes she might find something to do. She'd left washing duty so quickly that she hadn't gotten instructions on if she was supposed to meet anyone else later in the day.

The place looked deserted. She couldn't see the men in the field since this far away the slope of the hill obstructed her view. She was just about to cut in between two houses to see if anyone was on the other side when she heard a psst.

Looking to the side, she saw Rosemary standing in front of her screen door, watching Scully from inside her dark house while her long black hair hung limply on either side of her face. "Come here," she whispered, gesturing urgently.

Scully closed the distance between them, looking at Rosemary's sullen face. "What are you doing wandering around by yourself?" the woman asked.

"I didn't know where to go after lunch," Scully replied honestly.

"You're supposed to clean the house. Though cleaning the house becomes a redundant task when it was cleaned the day before and the day before that and so on and so on," Rosemary stated.

Scully looked around to see if anyone was nearby before taking a step closer to the screen separating them. "Would you mind if I came in?" Scully asked.

"No," she replied.

Scully moved to open the door only to realize it was locked, a huge padlock facing the outside keeping Rosemary from opening the door. "But Jason would," she added.

"He locked you in here?" Scully replied, her brows turning downward in concern.

"I'm not to be trusted," she replied.

The woman seemed defeated, utterly exhausted. She'd seen the bruises on the other women, but Rosemary's skin was as colorful as an artist's easel - a portrait of violence. Scully's heart broke for the woman, she was trapped here after coming to support her husband, yet she told him to leave because she wanted him to be safe. Now it appeared she faced an existence worse than death.

Scully just wanted to give her something to live for.

"Because of what Neil did?" Scully asked in a hushed tone, locking eyes with Rosemary.

"H-how did you know about that? No one is allowed to speak his name here," she replied, life in her voice for the first time since Scully met her.

Scully took a step closer to the screen so that they were only inches apart. "I'm trusting you to keep this secret. Robert and I were sent here because of Neil," she stated. "He said after he left, he ran to get the Sheriff, but when they'd tried to come back and get you, you were gone."

Rosemary's face set into a mask of indignant anger as tears started welling in her eyes. "They broke my leg as soon as he left. One of the men just pushed me on the ground and put all his weight on my calf until it snapped. Retribution. Then they put tape over my mouth and a bag on my head and hid me until he was gone," she explained. "I could hear him," she added breathlessly.

"He's worried about you. Neil and the local Sheriff have been working together for the past six months trying to figure out how to save you and everyone here," Scully explained, watching as the woman tried to suppress her emotions.

"W-where is he? How is he? How did he look?" she asked in a worried littany, hanging off every word Scully was saying.

Scully had to resist the urge to smile. The woman just reminded her so much of her and Mulder; no matter how injured one was, the other was their first thought. "He looks healthy, but he's consumed by his mission to find you and I think that's affecting him. Other than that, good."

A tear fell from Rosemary's eyelash and wetted a line down her cheek. "That's good. So... are you the police?"

"FBI," Scully responded.

"Holy shit," Rosemary balked.

"Rosemary, can I ask you a favor?" Scully asked. "Please say no if you don't feel safe."

"I never feel safe, so that's of little consequence. I'll do anything you need," she said.

"I promise you, I'm going to bring you back to Neil in one piece," Scully stated firmly, waiting for Rosemary to nod before continuing. "If you can, it would be really beneficial to the case if you could write down anything you've seen here that's illegal, any full names you've heard, and anything you've learned about the cult."

"How do I get it to you?" Rosemary asked.

"During the wash-"

"No," Rosemary cut her off. "I'm always watched." She glanced around furtively and added, "We could be being watched now for all I know."

"Even when the men are gone?" Scully asked, feeling a sense of unease wash over her at the prospect she may be putting her cover at risk.

Rosemary let a humorless laugh escape her lips. "Yes. I'm not sure if you've noticed, but have you observed there are women here whose names you just can't remember? They might talk, they may always be there, but you can't remember for the life of you if you know their name and no one will ever say it. And if you start to ask, someone interrupts you? Someone else whose name you don't quite know either?"

"Yes," Scully nodded thoughtfully.

"Some of the women think that if they are loyal enough they can transcend the misogyny the men feel towards them. That maybe if they act as the eyes and the ears to what the women are doing, what they are saying, that maybe they can have a chance to see the other side," she explained. "Nothing is sadder than a woman who works against her own to gain the favor of men."

"How are you sure they're watching you?" Scully asked.

"I overheard them while I was being hidden. One of them revealed that I'd expressed discontent with the Hallowed during morning wash. The man said to keep up the good work and maybe one day she could see her father again. You know, like how the men can see people during the meetings," Rosemary stated. "If Jason didn't have a thing for me, they would have just killed me."

Scully felt her heart drop in sympathy. "I'm so sorry, Rosemary," she lamented.

"So am I," Rosemary nodded. "But I do have an idea. However, it would put you in danger too." Rosemary glanced around furtively, anxiety making a home on her face. Scully felt herself grow nervous herself.

"What is it?" Scully asked.

"I'll put my notes in a plastic bag, bring it to wash with me, and hang it up inside of my day dress on the clothesline," she explained, pointing to the string attached to her house, the clothes from earlier still hanging. "You would just have to come and get it. There are eyes everywhere, so I would recommend doing it while the men are at the gathering, but that would mean going out after dark, past curfew."

"I'll do it," Scully said with a firm nod. If Rosemary had enough information, the case would be so loaded that no defense attorney could poke holes in it.

Then they could get the hell out of here.

"Is there anything you could tell me now?" she asked lowly.

Rosemary shook her head violently, looking around again. "No, no. You need to get back home, now. It's unsafe for you to be this far from home alone, even during the day."

Scully nodded, "Okay, okay. I will."

"I'll write it today before dinner. Pick it up tomorrow night, okay?" she instructed.

Scully held up her hand and pressed it against the screen, smiling when Rosemary mimicked the gesture. "Okay. And if you ever feel like your life is in danger, let me or my partner know."

The sound of a distant porch door opening caused Rosemary to jump as her eyes darted around like a startled animal. She locked eyes with Scully and implored, "You should really go home. Even though the men are at work, you don't want to stumble into a bad situation."

Scully just nodded and started back home, turning back when a sudden thought struck her. "Hey," she whispered, getting Rosemary's attention. "My partner and I are in contact with the Sheriff Neil works with. Do you want me to pass along a message that the Sheriff can tell him?"

Rosemary nodded violently before whispering, "Tell him that I love him and that we're taking that damned trip to Ireland as soon as I'm out."

Scully didn't know what that meant, but figured it was something personal between the two of them. "Will do," she nodded before glancing at the house number so she could remember later. "2511," she repeated lightly to herself as she walked back home.

5:12 P.M.

Scully was quickly learning that she was not great at passing time. To keep up appearances, she cleaned the house and did the dishes, but since the house had already been deeply cleaned before they moved in, there wasn't much she could do to make a difference. She tried playing some games by herself, but got bored sooner than she had been while cleaning.

At closer to five, she'd started making dinner and now she was just loitering in the kitchen stirring the pot idly. The door behind her opened and she turned around with a smile, a smile that quickly faltered when she saw it was one of the other men in the cult instead of Mulder. He was one of the bigger ones that had leered at her after bringing Mulder back from the gathering. She felt her chest tighten as her instincts from self-defense training started to kick in.

"Where's Robert?" She asked sweetly, taking a step back as he took a step forward.

"Finishing up in the field," he replied shortly before unabashedly letting his eyes roam her body. "You're not supposed to talk to men that aren't your husband," he chided.

"But I'm allowed to speak inside the home, and I don't want to be a poor hostess," she replied, hoping her voice was as steady as she was aiming for.

"That's awfully kind of you," he smirked, taking another step towards her.

The movement caused her to take a step back, only to feel the edge of the counter press against her back.

"Was there something you needed?" She asked, putting her hands behind her back so she could discreetly find something sharp on the counter. "Rob should be home anytime now."

He took another step forward until he was only an arms length away from her. She risked a glance out the window and she could see Mulder talking to Randy about fifty yards away.

Her view of him was eclipsed by the man's body stepping right in front of her. She glanced up at him and saw a cocky grin tugging on his lips. "I wanted to see if you looked as good in the light as you did in the dark," he murmured, lifting a dirty hand to brush a strand of hair behind her ear.

She instinctively shied her head away, only for his hand to grab her jaw on either side and twist her face back to him. He was so close that she could smell the staleness of his breath as he loomed over her.

The counter felt smooth under her touch, but she felt a vase graze the tips of her fingers. "It's rare for the Hallowed to get such a hot piece of ass," he remarked, a twang evident in his voice.

She let out a shuddering, nervous breath as her fingers pushed the vase towards the sink. Trying to do anything to cause a distraction. "Do you think Rob is okay with sharing?" He asked in what she was sure he thought was a suave tone.

The vase slid the remaining few inches into the sink, causing a loud shattering sound to break the tension.

"Oops," she laughed, turning out of his grasp to focus on the sink, hoping the sound carried through the screen door.

Scully heard a tsking sound as she gathered the glass shards into her hands, keeping one particularly sharp shard at the ready, a sense of frustration building as she saw one of his large hands bracket against either side of her on the counter, trapping her in the perimeter of his arms.

His body heat radiated against her back as she felt his face lean towards her ear. "A bit of a mess, aren't ya?" He asked.

She feigned laughter, trying to defuse the situation. "I'm not too efficient in the kitchen," she replied.

"That's fine by me. I'd just keep you in the bedroom," he murmured before the sound of the screen door opening made him ease up.

She let out a low breath of relief as she heard Mulder's voice. "Hey, Scull-Tobe? What are you doing here?" He asked, his tone dropping as he regarded the intruder in their home. Scully felt her stomach plummet at the name, remembering it from Isaac's warning when they were being driven here.

The man took a step away from her and she walked over to the trash to dispose of the vase remnants. "I heard a crash and I wanted to see if your little miss needed any help," Tobe boasted with feigned civility.

Scully looked over at Mulder and saw his jaw was clenched tightly. There must have been some distress on her face because she saw his nostrils flare as he turned to Tobe. "I'd appreciate it if you didn't enter my home when I'm not here," he stated sternly.

Tobe raised his arms in mock surrender as he walked to the door. "I didn't mean to overstep, Rob. Just trying to be neighborly."

"I'm sure," Mulder deadpanned. "I don't mean to be unneighborly, but would you mind leaving so I could have some time with my wife."

Tobe chuckled and murmured, "I'll bet." He walked past Mulder, clapping him hard on the shoulder, so that Mulder was almost caught off balance. "See you later," he called over his shoulder as he opened the screen door, only he made direct eye contact with Scully when he said it.

Mulder brusquely walked over and slammed the door shut, locking it behind him as she began stirring the food she'd been making before the interruption. She felt him walking up to her and she could sense he was upset.

"Did he hurt you?" Mulder asked, touching her arm lightly.

"N-no, no. He was just inappropriate with me," she assured, shaking her head. Wishing she could have a moment to process it herself without having to mediate Mulder's anger.

That answer didn't appear to bring him any comfort as his brow furrowed. "Did he touch you?"

"Jesus, Mulder," she exclaimed. "He just touched my face, and was a little crude. That's all," she added shortly.

"I'm sorry," he replied, remorse evident in his tone.

She shot him a look and crossed her arms. "For what? Not having telepathic powers? Not being able to predict the future," she deadpanned, her irritation and frustration at the situation misdirecting itself towards him.

"For not coming back sooner," he replied, accepting her anger without trying to match it.

"Mulder, I don't need you to defend me," she replied with a shaky sigh, the adrenaline putting her on edge. There was a pause and she turned to see him biting his lip. "What?" she snapped.

"It looked like he had you cornered when I came in here. He's easily three times your size, and that was one of the guys we were warned about. I'd agree that he is one of the more brutish men here," Mulder replied.

"You were right outside," she replied. "Did you come because you heard a noise?"

"Yeah," he nodded.

"See, I handled it," she replied, though she knew that was a weak argument.

"But-" he started, but she didn't want to hear it.

"Enough, Mulder," she snapped.

She was just frustrated that it now appeared to Mulder that she couldn't handle herself. She'd just been taken so off guard by the man's bold actions that she hadn't been as on top of it or she would have done things differently. Objectively she knew she was twisting the actions of an awful man and finding a way to blame herself, but no matter what, now Mulder was going to feel like she needed protecting and it made her feel weak.

He just looked at her with undisguised worry and she couldn't meet his gaze. "Go make sure the doors and windows are locked so we can report to Halloran. I need to tell him something and I wanted to wait in case you had an update," she sighed, grabbing the bowls for their food.

"Scully, I-," he started.

"Mulder, please," she stated softly.

He sighed, his annoyance clear as he grumbled, "Fine."

Scully turned off the stove and scooped out their food, some home-made chicken noodle soup, before setting the bowls on the kitchen table. She walked over to the kitchen counter and climbed up, kneeling as she opened the cabinet doors above the refrigerator to grab the phone. Mulder made his way over, likely to help her down, but she slid off the counter without acknowledging him.

He let out a low sigh and walked in the other direction and got silverware instead, sitting down at the table across from her.

"Please don't shut me out, Scully," he pleaded vulnerably. "I didn't mean to piss you off. I'm just irritated that these men boast that women are supposedly 'safe' if they're married, yet this guy just waltzes in here wanting to mount you," he stated, throwing his hands up in the air. She was surprised he was being so open with his feelings, but she knew this meant she should be in return.

"I'm just mad because I wish I'd reacted better," she grumbled, leaning back in her chair. "Now I feel like you're going to be distracted and focused on protecting me when I think you're in just as much danger."

"What do you mean reacted better?" he asked gently.

"I was being friendly, I should have just been curt and told him to leave," she sighed.

Mulder looked at her intently, not moving to interrupt and waiting until he was sure she was done before speaking. "Did you know that fight or flight is a guy thing?" he asked.

"How so?" she asked.

"You might find this all archaic, I don't know," he stated, rubbing the back of his neck. "But, apparently fight or flight originates back to the hunter and gatherer times. Men would fight opponents weaker than them and flee when the threat was too strong. Over time there's also been the addition of freeze, when your brain shuts down as a defense mechanism and you do neither," he explained.

She stared at him blankly and he quickly rushed to his next point. "A social scientist named Shelly Taylor released an article just this year actually where she said applying the same logic to women is painting with a bit of a broad brush. Men are conditioned to act in a physical manner whereas women are conditioned to rely on sociability. All of this to say, it's more common for women to implement something called 'Tend and Befriend' where, in the face of a threat, they tend to those who are weaker around them, usually children, and/or they attempt to befriend the threat. It doesn't mean befriend in how we usually connote the word, but it means making yourself seem friendly to attempt to negate harm coming your way. People are less apt to attack when the person is friendly rather than hostile."

"So you're saying that being kind to him was an act of self defense?" she asked, admittedly interested in what he was saying.

"Yes, that, but I'm also saying that you shouldn't be so hard on yourself or think that I am critical of you. I trust you more than anyone else, I know that in the face of potential danger, you're going to make the decisions that feel best," he replied.

Leaning forward, locking eyes with her, he stated adamantly, "But, even if your response was to freeze I wouldn't blame you for a second."

She let her gaze fall down to her food and let out a long breath. "I just don't want you to feel like you need to protect me," she whispered. The confession she'd admitted to the FBI therapist all those years ago was making a return.

"I'm sorry if I've ever made you feel that way," he apologized. "But my desire to protect you doesn't feel like a burden or something I have to do. It's something I want to do because I'm your partner and I would do anything if it meant I could prevent you from feeling a moment's pain. I know you feel the same because of how you react anytime I have to leave. I guess I just sometimes don't realize mine might come across as overbearing since I'm a man."

"I'm sorry for getting agitated. Thank you, Mulder," she replied softly, grabbing his hand and squeezing it lightly.

"Always," he implored, tapping his thumb against hers.

They sat in silence for a while, Mulder listening as she talked to Halloran on the phone, repeating her conversation with Rosemary and passing along her message. The only update Mulder had was that the cult apparently had called off tonight's meeting. They hadn't given a reason why, but Randy had said it happened on occasion.

She couldn't deny the fact that she was relieved he wasn't going there, especially after last night, but she knew they both found the timing rather odd. The fact that it was only their second day here and the meeting was cancelled suddenly didn't sit well with her.

But there was nothing they could do about it other than enjoy their night together and prepare for tomorrow.

8:24 P.M.

After dinner, they'd both taken turns having a bath. He honestly wasn't sure who took longer, him or her. Normally Mulder was an in and out of the shower in under ten minutes kinda guy, but his body was aching more than he'd ever remembered.

It also brought a small smile to his face that they'd shared bathwater to conserve water. He was probably making it up, but part of him felt like he could still smell her in the room. Pulling the drain with his toe, he sat up slowly and grabbed the damp towel from where Scully had put it earlier. It smelled lightly of her and it made him smile at the simple comfort.

He hung it back up before putting on a fresh pair of boxers. A sting on his lower back reminded him of his wound and he realized it had been a while since they'd changed it. Opening the door, he called, "Hey, Scully?"

He heard the sound of her feet padding on the hardwood as she made her way to him. "Yeah?" She asked.

"Can you fix me up again?" He asked, turning his back to her.

She gasped slightly and immediately lamented, "I'm so sorry, Mulder. We should have put a clean dressing on it this morning. I totally forgot."

He shrugged and watched as she pulled the first aid kid from the medicine cabinet.

If there was anything that was going to kill him here, it was going to be her in that nightdress. It was beyond flattering on her, and in the light he could see certain details he couldn't when they were laying in bed, namely how it was so thin he could see the gentle pebbling of her nipples on her chest and the raised bump on the top of her bellybutton.

His blood still boiled at how Victor had invaded her privacy and been so cruel towards her, but he still thought back to that moment and was hung up on that reveal. "And the navel ring?"

He'd seen her naked when they were in Antarctica, but it was only a flash. He wasn't in the business of ogling unconscious women and time hadn't been on his side to thoroughly check if she was injured. In the quick sweep he did get, he most certainly did not see a navel ring.

"Can I ask you something?" He prompted.

"Shoot," she replied, preoccupied with cleaning his wound.

"Do you really have your belly button pierced?" He asked, taking a quick glance down through the reflection of the mirror.

A small smile quirked her lips upward. "Yes," she replied, grabbing some Neosporin.

"When did you get it?" He asked.

"After my cancer went into remission," she admitted. "I wanted to reclaim my body."

He'd been expecting a tale of a rebellious young Scully, not something as heavy as that. Curiosity fueled his next question as he asked, "Can I see it?"

"Let me put your gauze on first," she replied, ripping it from the sterile package. He felt her skilled hands apply the material as quickly as she could. He'd experienced it more times over the years than he probably should've, but Scully was a master at tending to patients and making it as minimally painful as possible. The wound on his back was still fresh, yet her touches felt like the grazing of feathers.

Once she was done, with a coy smile, she turned to him and lifted the hem of her dress. He supposed that was the obvious way for her to show him, but the sight of her lifting her dress still stunned him and it must've been obvious since she chuckled.

He bent down on one knee so he could get a better look, trying to ignore the fact that if he looked further down he'd be met with the sight of her small, white panties.

She was wearing a gold hoop that was glinting from the light of the bathroom. He placed his hand on her side and used his thumb to graze the ring gently, watching as it moved back and forth in the tiny crevice of her navel. "It looks great," he complimented with a toothy grin.

He looked up at her and saw she was looking down at him with an amused expression on her face mixed with something unreadable - her hands clutching the fabric of her dress under her breasts. "Thank you," she replied softly.

He let go of her and stood up, ignoring the protesting of his knees. "No, thank you for bandaging me up."

"Consider it payback," she smirked.

He knew what she was referring to immediately. For two straight weeks last month, he had to go over to her place every day to bandage her back from where it had gotten cut up during her fight with Donnie Pfaster. He could tell she didn't really want to ask for help, but she wasn't able to do it on her own.

"How's your back healing?" He asked.

"I don't really know," she replied, turning around so he could look. "I think good, but I can't see very well."

He glanced at the expanse of her upper back, only covered by two thin straps. He could see the dull pink line of a scar, something that would definitely fade to white or go away completely over time. "Looks really good," he replied.

"Thanks," she smiled, turning to face him again.

"Physically, at least," he clarified. "How are you doing otherwise?"

He saw her expression falter a bit like it always did when Pfaster was brought up. It was something that affected her on such an intimately personal level that he could tell it was hard for her to deal with. They'd had a few discussions about it, but he knew she was still processing.

"I'm doing fine, all things considered," she answered, looking at the floor. "Let's go in the other room. It's cold in here."

He knew she was going to change the topic, but he wanted to try one last time before letting her deflect. "Is it hard, being here with such awful and controlling men?" He asked, following her into the bedroom.

"If you're asking me if these men remind me of Pfaster, the answer is no," she replied fluffing up the pillow on her side of the bed. "These men are evil because they're entitled and abuse their power and privilege. Pfaster was... different."

"I'm here if you ever need to talk," he replied.

"I know, and I appreciate it," she stated, looking up at him. Her gaze immediately went past him as she took a step to the side. "Mulder look," she said, pointing out the window.

He walked over and saw what she was referring to. Flashlights. The meeting wasn't called off after all.

"What do you think that means?" Mulder murmured."Whatever it is, I don't think it's good," she sighed.

9:25 P.M.

"How do we feel about the newcomers?" Victor asked

"He's weak," a hooded man stated.

"His wife is unruly," another added. "She's spoken to me twice now."

"Do you think they'll learn their place?" Victor questioned.

"Maybe with some help."

Victor sighed deeply before taking a long swig of the mixture they'd concocted. "I think they just need a reminder not to bite the hand that feeds."