Here is the third installment. Don't know precisely how many more there will be--I haven't finished seperating the bits into chapters. I must apologize to those of you who are pestering me for the origional: my internet is down. Give me some time to get it working again and I'll send it to all of you that want it but for now I am stuck with the school computer and it doesn't let me go to yahoo. All I have is a floppy disc and fanfiction. So bear with me. But you can google Post-Mellenium Smut along with the words X-Files and Scully and Mulder and you might be able to find it. I'm sorry I couldn't be more help but all I have to do is go to favorites and voila, it's there.
Disclaimer: Cloans of cloans on a loan. I don't own the characters, I don't own the concept or the text of this story.
Chapter Rating: Still a T. Hmm...Give me about two more at the most for me to switch over to M for you.
Mulder was pulled out of his temporary bliss when a board above his head creaked loudly from the weight of someone stepping on it. His instincts went on immediate alert.
"Scully," he whispered softly, so not to startle her.
The wood continued to protest as someone walked across the floor above. They weren't alone in the house.
"Scully, wake up," he spoke, still softly, but with more force.
"What?" She asked, having a hard time shaking the peaceful slumber that she was in.
"There's someone upstairs."
"What!" Wide-awake now, Scully jumped from his lap, paying little attention to the fact that she had been in his lap.
"Listen." Mulder stood by her side and both agents were silent. He
knew the moment that she heard the movement. Her eyes grew big and immediately she reached behind her, and drawing her gun.
Mulder grabbed the flashlight from the sofa and motioned for her to follow him into the hallway. Quickly they moved to the bottom of the steps.
Scully stood quietly behind Mulder, waiting, listening. Her patience failing her, she stepped past Mulder and began to ascend the stairs, her gun gripped tightly in her hands. The rotting wood creaked loudly in protest beneath her small feet. She heard Mulder's footsteps behind her and her breath caught in her throat when he reached a hand out, placing it on her shoulder.
"Scully," he whispered, turning her to face him. With her standing two steps above him, they were eye to eye.
"Mulder, there's someone up there," she insisted urgently. Her voice matching his low whisper.
"I know. Scully, someone may have come in a back door trying to get out of the rain." The irony of the current role reversal was not lost on him.
"Mulder. Something is not right in this house. I'm going to find out what it is. Are you coming with me?"
She searched his eyes for a moment. The doubt she saw there was soon replaced by trust.
Mulder drew his gun and motioned for Scully to keep going.
"I'm right behind you."
Scully gave him a quick nod and turning she continued up the stairs.
"Be careful. I don't know how safe these stairs are," he warned from behind.
She reached out, gripping the railing in case the rotting wood beneath her feet were to give way. A particularly loud burst of thunder shook the house and she stopped for a moment, willing her heart rate to slow down. Mentally scolding herself for showing any sign of weakness, Scully straightened her shoulders and quickened her climb.
Reaching the top, she waited briefly for Mulder. When she felt him behind her Scully turned the small corner at the top of the stairs and faced the long empty hallway. Her eyes followed the beam of the flashlight as Mulder surveyed the area, committing a mental map of the hallway to memory -- two doors on the left, three doors on the right and a window at the end of the corridor.
Scully turned to Mulder who motioned toward the door closest to them on the right. She nodded and took her place to the left of the door frame. Mulder moved to the right. Capturing Scully's gaze and focusing on the task, Mulder reached out and took the doorknob in his hand. Still holding her eyes he nodded his head silently -- once, twice -- on the third gesture he turned the door knob and pushed the door open with his foot. Scully quickly stepped, gun drawn, into the open door frame as Mulder flooded the small closet with light. It was empty.
Scully moved first, stepping to the first door on the left. Cautiously the agents repeated the maneuver. The room on the left was larger, but still empty.
Her frustration growing, Scully began to move down the hallway to the second door on the right side. An ear-splitting cracking drew her attention to the window at the end of the hall. Unsure of the cause of the noise, Scully aimed her weapon at the window and took a step towards it, drawn to the eerie, unfamiliar sound. A large branch ripped away from the tree directly outside the window and crashed through the boarded up glass. The vicious wind took full advantage of the new path and whipped its way through the hall carrying rain and broken glass.
Scully felt the water, wind and glass hurl past her face as she tried to cover her eyes with her arm. Momentarily unable to see she reached out, relieved when she felt Mulder's strong grip grasp her hand and pull her into the open room on the left. He quickly closed and secured the door and directed the beam of the flashlight onto Scully.
Her eyes still irritated, Scully tucked away her gun and used her fingers to examine and rub the stinging area.
"Scully, you're hurt." Mulder holstered his weapon and put the flashlight on the floor so that the beam of light hit the ceiling, dimly lighting the room and casting their shadows onto the far wall.
"I think I might have gotten something in my eyes." She blinked a couple of times and her vision cleared, the previous irritation gone. "Must have been water." Scully looked directly into his gaze to prove to him that she was indeed fine. Instead of relief she saw concern in his eyes as he walked toward her pulling a handkerchief out of his pocket.
"You're bleeding." Her hands moved to search her face but Mulder was quicker. He gently cupped her chin and tilted her head upward. "I think it's just a scratch," he said soothing her as he carefully blotted the small tear in her skin with the cloth. "You must have been hit by a piece of glass from the window."
Mulder kept his hand on her cheek, applying soft pressure to the cut. His hands on her face were so warm, so familiar. Her heart beat a little harder against her chest when she remembered the last time they had stood like this. Their bodies so close. The moment so tender yet so charged with possibility. Scully looked into Mulder's eyes and knew that he remembered too.
Not here.
Not now.
Her eyes broke away from his, wanting to look anywhere else. Needing to look anywhere else. They landed on the thin trickle of blood running down his hand.
"Same piece of glass that hit you?" She pulled his hand away from her face and brought his attention to his own injury. She stepped away from him and pulled him closer to the flashlight so that she could get a better look at the cut.
"Will I live?" He smirked.
Choosing to ignore his remark she took the handkerchief away from him and cleaned up his hand.
"Do you think that's what we heard? The tree pressing against the
boards on the window?"
"Probably, but it wouldn't hurt to search the rest of the house."
She nodded, a little of the intensity she felt earlier was disappearing. Bending to pick up the flashlight a flicker of light beneath another door in the room caught her attention.
Scully pulled her gun. Still bent over, she tapped on Mulder's leg to get his attention and pointed toward the door. She turned off the flashlight and the room became instantly black except for the faint glow of a lamp or candle that filtered through under the door.
After giving her eyes a moment to adjust to the darkness, Scully moved to the left of the door frame. She heard Mulder move to the right.
"Hand me the flashlight," he whispered.
She held the flashlight out to him and was sure he had a hold of it before letting go. She gripped her gun in both hands and took a deep breath.
"Ready?"
She heard his whisper in the darkness and answered her reply.
"Ready."
What happened next happened quickly, but for Scully, time – the universal invariant -- seemed to slow almost still.
She heard Mulder turn the knob on the door then she heard him kick the door open. She readied her weapon and stepped into the opened room. A quick scan of the room showed no danger but then in the shadowed corner against the back wall...she saw her.
"Mulder?"
"I got you."
Scully lowered her gun and walked past the small lantern sitting on the floor. She heard Mulder check the rest of the room for anyone else, but Scully's eyes never left her.
Tied to a rusty metal bed frame, lying on an old bare mattress in the back corner of the long room was a woman. She was gagged and at the sight of Mulder and Scully she began to make frantic noises trying to get their attention.
"You're safe. We're not going to hurt you." Scully checked behind her to make sure that Mulder still had his gun drawn. When she was certain that he did, she put hers away to free up both of her hands. Bending next to the woman, Scully first untied the gag and removed it from the woman's mouth.
"Thank God. We have to get out of here. He's crazy." The woman sputtered urgently, her voice soft and a bit raspy from the gag.
"You're safe. We're from the FBI. Who put you here? Who's crazy?"
Mulder questioned as Scully moved to the bottom of the rusted frame to untie the woman's feet.
"We are not safe! No one is safe in this house. We have to leave.
Hurry!" She begged Scully as she fought with the knotted rope.
"What's your name? How did you get here?"
"My name is Melinda. I was driving and I got lost. I got a flat tire. Please hurry, we have to get out of here."
Scully studied Melinda as the knots of the rope began to give way. She was tall, her bare feet almost reaching the end of the bed frame. Scully assessed her to be only a few inches shorter than Mulder. Scully couldn't guess accurately her age, but estimated her to be in her middle to late thirties. Her skin was very pale, appearing almost white in the flickering light of the lantern. She was very thin and was wearing a long, ragged, white gown that was modest in design. It appeared old, yet clean except for around the hem, which was soiled from where it must have dragged across the floor when she walked.
Scully pulled the rope away from Melinda's feet. She took note of the chafed skin around her ankles that had come from the rough twine rope. Moving to the head of the bed she began to work on the rope that bound Melinda's hands above her head. She had long thick dark blonde hair that curled over the mattress and probably fell halfway down her back when she stood. Anyone would have judged the woman classically beautiful, but it wasn't Melinda's beauty that Scully couldn't look away from -- it was the terror and intensity of her deep green eyes. The same terror and urgency that had been steadily forming a twisted knot in the pit of Scully's stomach from the moment she had laid eyes on this house was mirrored in Melinda's eyes. Eyes that both captivated and haunted.
"How long have you been here?" Mulder continued his questioning, still scanning the room with his eyes.
"I don't know." Melinda answered weakly. "Four or five days. I'm not sure. Sometimes he keeps me in the basement in the dark. I don't know how long I've been here. We have to get out!"
Scully untied her hands and Melinda instantly began rubbing the raw skin on her wrists.
"Can you stand up?" Scully asked softly.
Melinda nodded and slowly swung her legs over the side of the bed and sat up.
"Melinda?" Mulder moved closer to the bed. "Who tied you up?"
"I don't know who he is. He keeps telling me that he has plans for me and that I can't leave. He says that I'll never leave." Melinda's voice shook with fear. "Please, get me out of here before he comes back."
"We will. You're safe with us. Melinda?" Scully stepped between
Melinda and Mulder and asked her softly. "Did he hurt you?"
"No." Melinda shook her head. "He's just really scared me."
"We'll get you out of here, but right now it's not safe to go out in the storm."
"You don't understand. It's not safe to stay here."
"Is he armed?" Mulder questioned.
"No, I don't think so. I came in here when there was no answer at the door to see if I could find a phone. He hit me on the back of the head with something heavy."
"Let me check the back of your head." Scully reached out but Melinda surged to her feet. She stood, a bit unsteadily at first.
"It's fine. We're wasting time. We have to leave!"
"You're safe." Scully tried to reassure her again. "You said he's not armed. We are."
"You don't know him. We are not safe."
"Does he stay here or does he come and go? Is he in the house right now?"
"I don't know," she cried becoming more visibly upset.
"Mulder," Scully stepped closer to him and spoke quietly. "Maybe we should try to get back to the car."
"Even if we can get back to the car without getting struck by lightning, we can't go anywhere."
"But it would get us out of this house."
He could tell by the urgency in her voice that her instincts were screaming out to her. Her instincts had been dead on from the beginning, ignoring them now wouldn't be a wise idea.
"Ok, Scully. Let's get her out of here."
- - -
A cold wind blew through the room and the lantern at the center of the floor flickered and then went out. For a moment the room was dark. Scully heard Melinda's sharp intake of breath before Mulder turned the flashlight on and offered the room some light. He picked up the lantern from the floor. Setting it on the mantle of the fireplace, he pulled the matches from his pocket and re-lit the wick.
Scully turned back to face Melinda, who cowered anxiously in the corner of the room.
"Melinda, Mulder and I are going to get you out of here." Scully
coaxed, offering the frightened woman her hand. Melinda timidly accepted and Scully drew her back out into the center of the room. "Our car isn't that far away. It has two flat tires but it's safe and it's dry. We'll have to wait there until the storm blows over and then we can figure out where we are."
"I don't care where we go. Just please get me out of here." Melinda begged.
"Do you know where he put your clothes?"
Melinda shook her head sadly and looked down at the tattered gown and her bare feet.
"He burned my clothes, my shoes, my purse and all my identification." Melinda lifted her eyes and looked directly at Mulder. "I can go like this."
Scully watched Melinda's jaw sit in determination.
"Let's go Mulder."
"We'll grab my coat downstairs. That should offer you a little protection from the wind." Mulder walked to the door and then turned to face Melinda and Scully. "We're going to walk down the stairs. You two will go directly out the door and head toward the car. I'll grab my jacket and catch up with you. Don't wait for me. Try to stay in the grass along side the road. It's going to be muddy, but it will be better on Melinda's feet."
Scully and Melinda nodded in understanding. Cautiously, Mulder opened the door. The wind and the rain continued to race down the hall. Lightning and thunder angrily took turns punishing the earth. The storm hadn't diminished since Mulder and Scully had entered the house -- it had intensified. Mulder turned to Melinda and taking her arm he gently pulled her to stand in front of him.
"Scully," he shouted above the wind, "move up front."
Scully questioned him with her expression only for a moment before realizing that he meant to shield them from the wind. She took the flashlight from him and pulling her gun, she started forward. Before she had even taken two steps an unearthly wail began downstairs and grew louder and louder, piercing the air.
"Back!" Mulder yelled above the wind and the wail.
Scully stood for a moment trying to identify the cry from below, but as quickly as it began, it was over. She turned and helped Mulder guide a terrified Melinda back into the room they had just left. Scully remained in the door frame, her hair whipped forward by the wind and stuck to her face because of the rain. Her gun and the flashlight remained trained toward the end of the hall.
"We're too late." Melinda sobbed. "We're too late. He's here."
Mulder stepped next to Scully, holding out his hand for the flashlight.
"I'm going down. Stay here and take care of Melinda."
Scully opened her mouth to argue that he shouldn't go alone but then she saw the look of terror on Melinda's face. She nodded and handed him the light, her fingers purposely brushing over his in the transfer. Her fingers gently told him to be careful. His thumb brushed hers in a silent 'I will'.
"Melinda?" Mulder broke his gaze away from Scully for a moment. "Is there another way out?"
"The back stairs." Melinda answered.
Mulder turned his full attention back to Scully.
"If I'm not back in ten minutes, you know what to do. Get Melinda out."
Scully nodded as she mentally vowed that she would get Melinda out -- and then she would come back for him.
She watched Mulder walk down the hallway. He turned and glanced at her briefly before disappearing around the corner.
Closing her eyes, Scully's hand drifted up to the cross hanging around her neck. Quickly, she offered up the same prayer she always said when she was afraid that he wouldn't return to her. Dana Scully then closed the door and did the one thing she hated the most -- she waited.
- - -
Mulder slowly make his way down the old staircase. The roof above had begun to leak. The water puddled in the center of the wooden stairs, making them even more treacherous to maneuver. The constant dripping sound echoed off the old walls. The front door stood open. Wet, dead leaves covered the floor inside the door. Mulder scanned the floor for wet foot prints and found none.
Reaching the bottom of the stairs, Mulder stepped out onto the porch and scanned the area. Tree branches lashed out at the house creating dark moving shadows over the yard. Not seeing anyone, he stepped back into the house and closed the door. Moving into the room where he and Scully had first been, Mulder grabbed his jacket off of the couch. The candles he had lit earlier were dark, but he couldn't be sure that the wind hadn't put them out. Again he checked the floor for foot prints tracked in from outside. The only prints he saw were his own.
Gun first, Mulder walked back out into the long hall and used the flashlight to search the area. Something caught his attention on the floor. Sure that they hadn't been there just a moment ago, Mulder saw prints begin where the carpet of leaves ended, halfway down the corridor. The prints disappeared behind a closed door on the right.
Approaching the door, a rush of adrenaline traveled through his bloodstream as he turned the knob and opened the door. Before he could scan the empty room or react to the whisper of noise behind him, he felt his world explode when a heavy blunt object connected with the back of his head. The pain was unbearable and as the floor seemed to rush up to meet him and before everything faded to black, his mind screamed her name. Scully.
- - -
Scully sat on the mattress, anxious, while Melinda paced the room.
Except for the storm outside, the house was quiet. Scully's eyes took turns between staring at the door and staring at her watch. Her mind took turns deciding between doing what she knew she should and doing what she knew she wanted. Her heart -- was silent -- half of her heart had left with Mulder.
Unable to ignore her watch any longer, Scully surged to her feet and walked to the fireplace. Picking up the lantern from the mantle she walked
to the door, checking behind her to see that Melinda was following.
"Let's go. Mulder said ten minutes, we've already waited longer than that."
"You're just going to leave him here?"
"No." Scully answered vehemently. "I'm going to do what he told me to do and I'm going to get you out of this house. Then I'm coming back."
Melinda reached out an arm and rested her hand on Scully's shoulder.
"Thank you Agent Scully." Melinda whispered.
"You said there were back stairs."
"Last door on the right."
"Stay behind me." Scully ordered.
Scully lifted the lantern up to her face and slid the protective guard over the flame to ensure that it would stay lit. Opening the door, Scully and Melinda eased out into the hallway. The wind was ferocious and Scully fought to keep her eyes open as she faced the open window and advanced toward the door. The rain bit like broken glass as it hit her again and again in the face.
Needing a break from the onslaught to clear her vision, Scully turned to face Melinda and was taken aback by what she saw.
The statuesque woman stood in the center of the darkened hall. Her hair twisted and flew behind her as the wind swept it away from her face. The rain caused her gown to mold against her body and the excess of white material billowed in the wind. Her skin, which had appeared pale before, now seemed translucent in the flickering flame of the lantern and the lightning. She appeared ghostly as she walked toward Scully. Her eyes still as haunted as they were when Scully first saw her bound and gagged to the bed.
Blinking several times to clear the rain from her eyes, the image of Melinda cleared and what Scully saw before her was a frightened woman who needed her help. A frightened woman she needed to help before she began looking for Mulder.
Steeling herself against the storm, Scully turned and continued toward the last door on the right. The voice in her head repeating in urgency; get Melinda out, find Mulder. Get Melinda out, find Mulder. Find Mulder...
Finally reaching her goal, Scully was dismayed to find that unlike the rest of the doors in the hall, this door opened out into the hall. Right in front of the open window. Keeping a tight grip on her gun, but setting the lantern on the floor, Scully began her struggle to open the door against the brutal force of the wind. Able to get the door open a crack, Scully shoved her foot in the small opening created. Tucking her gun away in order to use both of her hands, little by little she was able to wedge her body into the small space between the door and its frame. Bending at the knee, into a squat, with one leg on either side of the door she picked up the lantern and moved it to the other side of the door before standing up.
"Melinda!" Scully shouted as Melinda attempted to help her with the door. "Get as close to my side as you can. When I move my foot away from the door, you slide in. Just like I am now." She was becoming breathless at the effort it took to keep the door from crushing her. "I'll help you from the inside as soon as I can get turned around and push. Do you understand?"
A faint trace of something unrecognizable crossed Melinda's eyes.
Before Scully could identify the emotion causing the change, the look was gone. Melinda nodded and stepped so that she was directly next to Scully.
"Ready?"
"Ready." Melinda confirmed.
Scully edged out of the doorframe until all that kept the door from completely closing was her leg. She looked to Melinda, who nodded. Scully watched as Melinda slid her foot between the door and the door frame and with a nod to Melinda, Scully quickly pulled her leg from the opening.
Before Scully could turn around to brace her weight against the door to help Melinda through -- the door slammed shut.
"Dammit!" Scully snarled as she pounded her fists against the wooden door. "Melinda!" She screamed. "You pull the door and I'll push." She waited for a response and heard none. "Melinda!" She yelled again.
Ready to brace her shoulder against the door to push it open against the wind, Scully put her hand on the door knob and...it was locked.
Scully tried again and again to turn the knob, but to no avail. The door was locked.
"Melinda!" She tried one more time before pounding on the door.
She turned and quickly drew her gun and picked up the lantern. The dim light only reached about two feet in front of her and Scully could see no end to the steps that descended at her feet. Turning back to the closed door, she tried one last time at twisting the knob. Still locked.
Her mind raced with possibilities, fears and accusations. The voice in her head now only repeated two words over and over again. Find Mulder.
The air in the stairwell was stale and musty. Scully began walking down the steps, slowly, using the lantern to cast the dim light as far out as it was able. Her gun clutched tightly in her hand. She hadn't gotten very far when a new smell started to attack her senses. A smell that she wasn't able to identify -- as she got further down the stairs the odor grew stronger and stronger. Scully was forced to place her arm over her nose and mouth in order to keep breathing. Four steps lay in front of her before she saw the cement floor, and she was no longer able to deny the stench that now permeated the air she breathed, and clung to her like a cloak. It was the smell of death.
Unable to stand it any longer, she fought the urge to gag, unsuccessfully. Gagging only brought more and more of the foul air into her lungs. She clamped her sleeved arm over her nose and mouth and tried to control and slow her breathing. Closing her eyes and taking in only the smell of the cloth of her coat, she was able to push down the bile rising in the back of her throat.
Opening her eyes, but keeping her arm tightly over her face, Scully stepped down the last four stairs and held the lantern out in front of her. She was in a small room, with out any obvious outlets, no doors, no windows. Lowering the lantern, Scully again felt the bile climb up her throat. Bodies, in varying stages of decay, covered the floor.
Stepping forward, she tried to count the individual bodies that spread out before her. One, two, three, four...
Suddenly a hand reached around her from behind and grabbed the gun away from the arm she was using to protect herself from the stench. Scully reacted quickly and brought that same arm back forcefully until she felt her elbow connect with a solid target. The man behind her lurched forward in pain, but still clamped a rag over her face. Scully's hands rushed to her face and tried to pull and tear at the hand holding the material over her nose and mouth. She recognized the bitter smell and knew that she didn't have long. Distracting him by pulling at the arm covering her mouth, Scully raised her knee and stomped on the inside of his foot with as much strength as she was able to gather.
"Bitch." The man holding her hissed as he lifted his leg off the floor in pain. Scully used the opportunity to try and throw him off balance and she jerked her body to the left. The man only tightened his grip around her mouth and they both fell backwards. Her captor fell onto the stairs and painfully twisted one of her arms around behind her back in punishment. As the pain traveled up her arm and exploded in her brain, the chemically treated cloth was making the room start to spin and as darkness began to swallow her up, her mind screamed his name. Mulder.
Is that enough of a cliff-hanger? Hee-hee. Push the button and I'll put the next bit up. But until then...MWAHAHA! I'm holding it for ranson.
Deamon
