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Chapter Text

SUMMER 1998

The bell above the glass door jingled as I stepped inside of the small gas station; immediately greeted by a blast of cold air and a friendly cashier, a welcomed relief from the summer heat. I strolled the aisles, taking in this quaint relic with its peeling paint, old-fashioned pumps, and the overwhelming scent of bleach to mask the staleness that clung to the air. This had been our first stop in hours, and with the bulk of the trip out of the way, I took the opportunity to stretch my legs while Mulder refueled the tank.

The store was equipped with a few patrons and a mishmash of essentials and oddities; the kind of place where you could find a can of motor oil sandwiched between homemade preserves and toilet paper. I stopped by the fridge, grabbing two cold cans of Diet Coke, and made my way towards the counter, picking up a pack of sunflower seeds and some licorice along the way. As I claimed my place in line, I pushed my sunglasses into my hair, feeling the cool metal slide against my scalp. I scanned the store as I waited, taking in the faded posters and the stack of postcards by the counter, each one a snapshot of this picturesque little town. 

Two young boys, around eleven or twelve years old, were at the counter in front of me with the pile of candy they’d collected; the cashier, a middle-aged woman with kind eyes and a worn smile, watched as they counted out change on the surface. We made eye contact, amusement on both of our faces. “How much is it?” I asked her, and the two boys turned to look up at me.

“Five dollars.” She told me, and the boys waited expectantly.

I pulled my wallet from my back pocket, and handed one of them a five dollar bill. They smiled and thanked me - grabbing the bag of goodies before running from the store and hopping onto the bikes that were left outside. 

"Just these?" She asked as I stepped up next and placed the items on the surface.

I nodded. "Yes, thanks."

As she rang up the purchase, I glanced out the window and caught Mulder's eye. He smiled, a slow, genuine smile that crinkled the corners of his eyes. I returned it, feeling a flush spread throughout my body unrelated to the sweltering heat.

"Here you go." The cashier said, handing over my change and the bag of snacks.

“Thank you.” I politely smiled and headed back outside, where Mulder was just finishing up. "Here." I called his attention, tossing the bag of sunflower seeds at him. 

He caught it with ease, a mock look of surprise on his face. "You must really love me, Scully." He teased, shaking the bag.

I rolled my eyes, but couldn't help the smile that tugged at my lips. "Don't let it go to your head, Mulder."

“Too late.” He winked, slapping the gas cap shut as he made his way around to the driver’s side.

The faint scent of ocean breeze lingered throughout the car from the blue pine tree dangling from the rearview mirror as the warm, worn leather seats absorbed our frames once again. Mulder adjusted the radio as he waited for me to finish reorganizing our limited space. "Alright, Scully. Only three and a half hours left until the best vacation of your life. Are you ready to rock?" He made horns with his fingers after landing on Miss You by The Rolling Stones.

I smiled as I took in his casual, relaxed demeanor - wanting to remember every detail about him and this trip. Leaning in to buckle my seatbelt, I met his green eyes from a closer proximity and nodded. Mulder tilted towards me slightly and my stomach dropped. My eyes moved from his to his mouth in anticipation, only to notice the bag of sunflower seeds sliding into view between us. Mulder smiled as he bit the package open and rested back into his seat.

“God, Scully. Get a hold of yourself.” Mulder smirked, pride smearing his expression as he placed the bag of sunflower seeds between his thighs. 

I rolled my eyes, but before I could respond - I jumped, startled by a knock on my window. Turning quickly, Mulder and I instinctively reached toward our hips - finding an older man with cloudy eyes staring back at us. His hand was outstretched, his face weathered by the sun, and his clothes were worn, but he didn't seem threatening. We relaxed a little.

Mulder reached into his pocket for his wallet, pulling out a few dollars. "Hey, buddy." He called, gesturing for the man to walk around to his side. The man complied and Mulder rolled down his window.

"You should really be more careful approaching cars at gas stations, alright?" Mulder cautioned as he handed the money to the man, his tone light but firm.

The man looked between us, his voice was rough when he finally spoke. "There is no careful. What’s to come will still come. The same darkness that swallows the night still inhabits the day." He lifted the money in his hand slightly. “Thanks.” He added, and with that shuffled away. My stomach twisted in turn; there was something in his tone that seemed to lift the fine hairs on my arms and I shivered.

Mulder glanced at me, his eyebrows furrowed. "I think this town needs a new welcoming committee.”

“Yeah… that was weird.” I readjusted myself in the seat, the leather releasing a small squeak in response.

Mulder placed his hands on the steering wheel, staring ahead for a moment before reaching over to rub my thigh with a smile. “Hey, what’s a road trip without a memorable gas station experience? I’m sure that you have a few.”

I let out a sigh as my head met the rest. “Yeah, you’re right. I guess that I’ve just been a little on edge.”

“A little?” Mulder glanced over at me with a smirk.

A small smile replaced the tension that had briefly taken residence in my jaw, and I sighed a laugh. “Okay, a lot. Maybe.”

Mulder reached over, his hand grazing my cheek and I leaned into his touch. “Well, we’re on vacation now, and the only rule is that we’re not allowed to be stressed. You’re not allowed to be stressed, okay?  We can do that anytime back home.”

“Okay.” I agreed with a slight sigh.

“Okay.” Mulder smiled with a nod as he began pulling off.

Relaxing into the seat, I opened the bag of licorice and popped a rope into my mouth. Mulder winced, as I knew he would, which seemed to further ground me in this moment. Mulder was right, this trip that we were on together - this much needed time away from everything else was ours . The tiny bubble that we’d grown accustomed to hiding in now expanded to include the world around us. I couldn’t imagine anything more important being able to steal this away.

"How can you stand to eat that stuff?" Mulder stuck out his tongue and dramatically gagged as he pulled out of the lot. His occasional absurdity was endearing, and I enjoyed it more than I cared to admit. 

"The same way I put up with you." I raised my eyebrows at him as I bit off a piece from the rope, earning a laugh.

“Ha-ha.” Mulder shook his head and slid back on his sunglasses. "Just know that I’m adding this to your tab."

I lifted my head from the car seat headrest, taking another bite as I studied him. “What tab?”

He glanced over at me. “The Scully Gross Food Tab - tab.”

“And what have I collected?” I wondered, taking the opportunity to pop open my drink. 

“Tofu ice cream, for starters.” He loosely glared at me, reaching over and grabbing the can before it touched my lips - taking a long drink and handing it back.

I shook my head, my lips meeting his imprint on the cool can. “Okay, that I can let slide. What else?”

“Raisin Bran.” He made a wide gesture with one hand. “Of all the options out there: Raisin Bran? Come on, Scully. You have the diet of an eighty-four year old grandmother, who knits and calls her grandkids too much.”

“Mulder, when was the last time that you ate a vegetable under your own volition?” I asked with raised eyebrows. 

He held up and shook the bag of sunflower seeds. “Morning, noon, and night.”

I leaned back against the seat, taking another sip. “I rest my case.”

The road stretched out ahead of us, a winding ribbon of asphalt framed by lush, verdant trees. The sky was a perfect blue, dotted with cotton-candy clouds that seemed to drift lazily overhead. Mulder drove with one hand on the wheel, the other tapping a rhythm on his knee, a sure sign he was in a good mood. I couldn't help but smile as I watched him, studying the defined features of his profile against the blurring landscape that served as a backdrop. The sunlight caught in his hair, highlighting its reddish undertones. Mulder caught me staring and reached over to lace his fingers through mine; he effortlessly fell into producing factoids about various classic rock bands and behind the scenes details about nearly every song that played - not realizing that his voice was the only sound that my ears accepted.

How long had it taken us to get here? How many near-death experiences, how many unspoken words? Our easy camaraderie had shifted our relationship into something more over the past few months; the hardest part was the facade we maintained professionally and, even, publicly in our own respective cities. This weekend was about being free from the shackles of city life and all of the pretenses that came with it. Without the weight of the FBI or the closure of the X-Files on our shoulders. I glanced down at our intertwined hands, allowing myself to feel the warmth and slight roughness of his skin against mine, solidifying this moment in reality; a surge of affection flowed throughout my body, leaving a fuzziness in its wake. I never thought that I could feel this kind of closeness with anyone, I had never allowed myself to, but here I was - and it was easy, even simple. Normal. This weekend we could feel like a real couple.

During some point in our winding journey, I must have fallen asleep because Mulder’s light hand squeeze forced my eyes back open. "Almost there." He announced, gesturing to the crinkled, folded map on the dashboard. "Just a few more miles."

"Oh good." I stretched in my seat. "I could use a break from sitting."

Mulder brought our conjoined hands to his lips and kissed the back of mine before returning his to the wheel, noting the curves in the road.

The cabin came into view as we rounded another bend and turned down a narrow off road path. Nestled among the trees, the quaint and cozy home looked like something out of a fairy tale. The wooden structure seemed to sprout from the ground, adjoined to a small porch and a stone chimney with the lowering sun cast a golden glow over the scene. Mulder parked the car, and we both took a moment to just take it all in.

"You think the carpet matches the shutters?" He looked over at me with a smirk.

In an attempt to ignore him, I got out of the car. Mulder followed suit. “Oh, come on, Scully. That was primo humor.”

I took a moment to survey the surrounding density of the forest; inhaling the fresh, pine-scented air. The only sounds were the rustling of leaves and the distant call of a bird; a stark contrast from the constant noise and chaos of our lives in D.C. “It’s so peaceful here.”

“It better be for the rate they’re charging for this place.” Mulder grabbed our bags from the trunk and walked to the door. I followed him, watching as he entered the code we had been given to unlock the box holding the keys. With a flourish, he opened the door and turned to me with a wag of his eyebrows. "They match."

Regrettably, my laughter broke through and I nudged past Mulder's smug expression to inspect the cabin myself. Upon entry, the subtle scent of lavender and firewood wrapped around us, offering a calming embrace. The cabin’s interior was as charming as its exterior—clean, well-maintained, and undeniably cozy. On the left, a small entry table by the door held a rotary phone, an antique lamp, and a travel guide. A red recliner sat comfortably by the window, paired with a nearby bookcase filled with neatly ordered books, board games, and puzzles. Across the room, a small entertainment center housed a stack of old VHS tapes, flanking a stone fireplace that anchored the space. In the center, a large, fluffy leather sofa invited us to sink in, with plush throw pillows and a basket of quilts and knit blankets beside it. To the right, the kitchen and dining area seamlessly continued the warm wooden accents.

Mulder closed the door behind us, placed our bags by the entryway and the keys on the table. He picked up the travel guide, his thumb running along the pages, quickly flipping faster than could be read. “Beautiful Vermont!” He read the title out loud before putting the book back down. “That could come in handy.” 

I walked towards the kitchen; it was small but well-equipped. I checked a few cabinets and the fridge, only the basics were accounted for: bread, eggs, a few canned goods, and coffee. 

"Do you want to go into town for dinner or groceries?" Mulder asked, leaning against the counter and crossing his arms and ankles as he watched my inspection.

"Definitely both." My eyes roamed over the rest of the front of the house as I made my way towards the hallway.

Mulder joined me in the doorway of the bedroom at the back of the cabin; it was lovely and simple with a king-sized bed, a dresser, and two side tables - each topped with a lamp. “This is nice, right?” Mulder asked, pressing on the bed briefly to check the firmness of the mattress.

“Yeah. Good job, Mulder.” I smiled at him, continuing on to the en suite bathroom. “Look at this tub - it’s huge.” I pointed out, pleasantly surprised.

Mulder followed and rested his back against the doorframe as I checked the cabinets. "Think we can both fit in there?" He nodded towards the tub, a suggestive glint in his eyes.

I playfully winced and shook my head. "I don’t know, Mulder. It might be a little tight.” 

Mulder laughed, reaching out to grip my waist and pulling me against him. He sighed as he locked his arms around me, his face inches from mine. “So, what’s the verdict, Scully? Does this place measure up?”

I rested my hands on his arms, rubbing them slightly. I nodded, unable to hide the smile tugging at my lips. “It’s perfect. Thank you for this.”

He kissed my forehead. “Don’t thank me yet. There’s still a lot of weekend left to be ruined.” 

I wrapped my arms around his neck, looking up into his eyes. “No. This weekend is going to be everything that we need.”

Mulder smiled a little, his hands lightly trailing up and down my back. “I’m glad that we’re doing this. I’m happy that we’re here.”

“Me too.” I let go a relieved sigh, understanding that there was so much more in his words.

He pressed his forehead against mine, closing his eyes. We stayed like this for a moment, holding each other and enjoying our closeness. Mulder kissed my forehead again before pressing his lips to mine; I welcomed this intimacy, holding his face to mine until we finally broke apart.

Mulder stood up straight and cleared his throat. “Okay, if you want to eat more than eggs and beans tonight, we should probably leave now.”

I laughed and nodded as Mulder took me by the hand and led us back towards the front door.

“Do you want me to drive?” I offered and noticed Mulder’s slight hesitation as he picked up the keys from the entry table. He opened his mouth to speak and I pointed a warning finger at him. “Careful, Fox. Your next words could change the trajectory of this weekend.”

He supplied a charming smile as he tossed the keys to me and opened the front door. “Certainly dear. Of course, dear. After you, dear.”

Catching the keys mid-air, I gave him an approving nod as I crossed the threshold. “Good choice.”

Mulder grabbed the travel guide from the entry table before shutting and locking the door.

As I walked around to the driver's side, Mulder and I exchanged a smile over the roof of the car before getting inside. I adjusted the seat, dragging it closer to the wheel, while Mulder did the opposite, pushing his seat back for ample leg room. Turning the key in the ignition, I brought the car back to life and Mulder quickly took control of the radio.

“Okay, Scully, what will it be? The Top 40? Classical? News?” He looked at me with raised eyebrows as he turned the dial.

I shrugged nonchalantly, stealing a quick glance at my reflection in the rearview mirror. "I don’t care, Mulder. Wait!" I stopped his hand as a familiar tune caught my ear. "I like this one," I said with a smile.

"' I don’t care, Mulder '." He mimicked, chuckling and playfully rubbing his wrist. "Good to know that Tori Amos brings out your more violent tendencies."

"I guess I don’t know my own strength." I jested, grabbing and inspecting his wrist. "Well, look at that. Believe it or not, Mulder, you’ll survive." I assured him as I slid on my sunglasses.

"Uh-huh." Mulder nodded, flipping through the travel guide. "Just be careful with that gear shift, Scully…" He teased me.

I met his smirk with a playful grin and cranked up the radio before pulling onto the main road - the lush greenery of the Green Mountains stretching out before us. The drive into town was quick and just as scenic; the small town doubled as a lesser tourist destination for those too overwhelmed by the larger resort towns. Even the city center was peaceful, the easy evening giving way to the feeling of freedom that only comes with exposure to the warmth and light of summer. 

Mulder and I fell into an easy stride, walking hand in hand through the courtyard. There were families, (what I presumed to be) college students, and the locals that called this place home. I watched a group of children play tag while their parents laughed and chatted with one another. The children were cute, three girls and a boy - their laughter and footsteps radiating off of the cobblestone and I couldn’t help but smile. 

Looking over at Mulder, I was surprised to find him already watching me. Neither of us said anything, our silence filled with understanding as Mulder offered a sweet squeeze to my hand. 

“So, Scully, what will it be? Maybe some local staples? Pot roast and craft beer? Ice cream from B&J’s?” Mulder quickly suggested. “A trip to the orchard for fresh apple cider?”

“I think that you’ve been studying that travel guide too closely.” I bumped my hip against his.

Mulder smiled down at me, lifting his eyebrows. “So, you’re not at all interested in the apple orchard?”

“Well, hold on. I didn’t say that.” I halted our stride.

Mulder’s smirking face studied mine. “So, pick your poison, Dr. Scully.”

Smiling, I quickly surveyed the restaurants around us and spotted a lively bar and grill. I nodded towards it. “What about there?” I looked back at him.

“Ooh and they have karaoke.” Mulder noted the neon sign in the front window and gave me a suggestive smile. “What’s your go to karaoke song, Scully?” He asked as we started towards the bar.

“I don’t have one because I don’t do karaoke.” I said with a pointed look while looping my arm through his. 

Mulder’s smile widened ahead of some rebuttal but as we crossed the threshold, we were instantly absorbed by classic rock radio, overlapping voices and laughter, the clinking of glasses, and the smell of beer and greasy food. The dim lighting was highlighted by the surrounding neon signs, fading sunlight, and a couple of spotlights aimed at a small stage. I spotted a patio out back, which seemed just as lively if not a little quieter.

A young waitress greeted us with a bright smile and led us outside. The deck was spacious despite being nearly full; string lights roped overhead as muffled sounds from inside filtered out. A screen projector displayed a Yankees game in one corner - Mulder noticed right away, but pretended not to, even going so far as to sit with his back to the screen. It seemed like a few other patrons had similar ideas while others collected in front of the breeze rippled screen, their reactions being enough to keep everyone else updated.

Mulder and I quickly reviewed the craft beer list and submitted our drink orders. Mulder selected a Catamount Pale Ale as I opted for the Magic Hat #9, which promised notes of apricot. Once alone again, we naturally leaned over the iron table, our legs touching underneath. 

“So.” Mulder started, his eyes fixed on mine.

“So.” I repeated with an instinctive smile tugging at the corners of my mouth.

“What are we singing for karaoke? Islands in the Stream? Ain’t No Mountain High Enough?” He goaded.

I mocked laughter and rolled my eyes. “You know that I can’t sing, Mulder.”

“You don’t have to be able to sing for karaoke.” Mulder pointed out.

“Well, it certainly helps.” I added with a smile that he returned.

“The people who can actually sing are just showing off. Nobody cares about them.” He dismissively waved his hand.

Our waitress dropped off our drinks and took our orders. Mulder and I took sips of our beers before trying each other’s; Mulder’s was tart and hoppy as opposed to the sweet and fruity flavor of mine. “Have you decided on an agenda for tomorrow?” I asked, partly to change the subject to something other than karaoke.

Mulder understood immediately and took another drink. “What about a hike?” He suggested.

I raised my eyebrows. “You want to go on a hike?”

His eyebrows drew together slightly while his eyes maintained amusement. “I’m more than just a pretty face, Dana. I’ll have you know that I possess quite a bit of athletic agility.”

I studied him suspiciously over the rim of my glass. “Just a leisurely hike?”

“Scully, this hurts.” He placed his hands over his heart.

I pointed a finger at him from my grip on the glass. “Answer the question, Fox.”

“Yes, Scully!” He laughed. “A leisurely hike. Maybe a picnic too, or a dip in the lake? Is that so bizarre? I mean, we’re in Vermont after all.”

I squinted my eyes at him for a second longer before nodding and taking another drink. “Okay, Mulder. We can take a nice, innocent hike in the morning.”

He smiled widely. “Well, okay. Happy we got that settled.”

Our waitress returned with our burgers, just as the stage inside began its karaoke run with two girls duetting “ You Oughta Know ”. 

They were young, likely in their early twenties - possibly college students on vacation. They were both comfortably dressed in shorts, t-shirts, and tennis shoes - probably having had a day of hiking or outdoor fun themselves. One of the girls, possessing wild, curly blonde hair seemed to take the lead - dancing and nearly screaming most of the lyrics, while the other girl, a ponytailed brunette, seemed happy just to be included in such a display. Cheering by the side of the stage was a tall man, about their age, with red hair and a beer in hand. The blonde spending most of her time on stage serenading him.

I turned back to Mulder, who seemed just as entertained by the performance. He nodded towards the stage. “Alanis is definitely on your song list.” 

“Nope.” I smiled, taking another sip and trying a french fry.

“Oh yeah? Then enlighten me, Cornflake Girl.” He prodded as he bit into his burger.

“I’m going to wash my hands.” I smirked at him, standing up.

Mulder shook his head and wagged a finger at me “This isn’t over yet, Dana.”

Laughing, I took one last look at him before crossing the threshold back inside. Another young woman had taken over the stage with a heartfelt rendition of “ Torn ”. The restrooms were near the stage, and I found myself up close to the previous performing blonde and her presumed boyfriend nestled together as I passed by. The restroom was clean with only a few occupants - a woman at the sink and two more chatting by the hand dryer. I easily found a stall to use, and as I made my way over to the sink, I noticed the ponytailed brunette checking her reflection. She seemed even younger now with her red eyes and blotchy face. The muffled sounds of music and voices echoed off of the tile, somehow making the recent vacancy of the others seem more isolating. Closing the distance between us, I stopped at the neighboring sink and turned on the faucet. She didn’t look at me, her primary focus on wiping her eyes and quickly composing herself.

Unable to control myself as I washed my hands, my mouth was already moving. “Is everything okay?” I gently asked.

She met my eyes in the mirror then, and let out a sigh. “I guess karaoke takes a lot more energy than I’m used to.” She offered a small smile.

“You and your friend did great.” I politely encouraged her as I rounded her to dry my hands. “I think that I can safely guarantee that although many have tried, very few have been as successful - myself included.”

“Thanks.” She wiped her nose with the crumpled paper towel that she’d been holding, her face gradually becoming less red. “That was my first time. Mimi’s a lot better at it than I am.”

“Well, just because some people are more exuberant than others doesn’t devalue your contribution. I, for one, am not a very exertive person when it comes to things like this, so I admire your bravery.” I told her as I leaned against the counter. “Is that why you’re crying?”

“No.” She sighed and turned to face me. “I don’t know. We’ve had this trip planned for months, and it was supposed to be like a joint couple’s trip. Well, now I’m a whole instead of a half and it’s just harder than I thought it would be.” She shook her head. “I don’t know why I’m even saying this to you.” She paused. “I’m fine. You’re nice for talking to me.”

“It’s okay.” I reassured her with a smile. “I don’t mind. Besides, that’s a lot to deal with - and I’m sorry about your breakup.”

She sighed again. “Thanks…”

“And kudos to you for still, not only, taking the trip, but making the most of it. It’s a great way to reconnect with yourself. Who knows, you might even have a better time because of it.” I encouraged, meeting her brown eyes.

The corner of her mouth ticked up a little as she nodded. “You’re probably right. Thanks for talking to me.”

“You’re welcome.” I smiled back. “I would say anytime, but hopefully we don’t keep meeting like this while we’re both here.”

“Right.” She laughed, wiping her face one more time and smoothing back her hair. “Well, enjoy your trip.”

“You too.” I nodded as she left the restroom.

I kept my place leaning against the counter. Thoughts of my sister, Missy, suddenly flooded my mind, and the similar conversations we had growing up. Just having her to confide in or laugh with had the power to redirect the course of any day. Even now, I wished that I could just pick up the phone and call her - to hear her voice and the cadence of her laughter - I would even accept the sisterly harassment regarding my love life. She would have a field day with my current predicament with Mulder - this weekend away together especially. The longing that I felt to just tell her everything that had happened over the last few years. 

Guilt and grief were the only sisters that I had now, and despite all of my rationalization, I couldn’t shake the fact that it should have been me that died that night. That bullet was meant for me, and Missy was just in the wrong place, at the wrong time. But, Death had developed a habit of tailing me. Every day, every case, every encounter with darkness was a matter of life and death.

The same darkness that swallows the night still inhabits the day . The homeless man's warning traveled back to the forefront of my thoughts, and he was right - death, darkness lies in wait for their moment to strike, day and night be damned.

Glancing back at the mirror, my fingers instinctively ran over the small, simple golden cross necklace that I had worn since I was a teenager - a Christmas gift from my mother. I ran a hand through my hair as I checked my reflection; the last thing that I needed to do was get lost in these kinds of thoughts - not now, not this weekend. Who knew the next time Mulder and I would be able to get away like this, somewhere we could walk down the street with our fingers laced or publicly share a kiss. Letting out another breath, I finally left my temporary sanctuary. 

Someone else had taken the stage now with a song that I didn’t register. I gave the bar a quick sweep as I crossed back towards the patio area and caught a glimpse of the “Alanis trio” leaving. The wild blonde walked out first, then the ponytailed brunette with the red haired man close behind her - his hand resting briefly on her lower back. 

“That licorice come back to haunt you, Scully?” Mulder teased as I approached the table then our eyes locked. “What’s wrong?”

I waved it off. “It’s nothing. There was just a girl crying in the bathroom, and I ended up talking to her.”

He nodded, still watching me as I finally bit into my burger. “Is she okay?”

“I think so. Hopefully.” I said and sipped from my beer. “So, did I miss anything exciting?”

“Aside from some bad rapping and power ballads - not much.” He smiled, though I still caught a little concern in his eyes. “Which brings me back to… your karaoke list.”

I shook my head, taking another drink. “You just don’t give up.”

Mulder made a wide gesture. “Come on, Scully. That’s part of my charm.”

And it was. Mulder’s passion and devotion is what reeled me in, and made me stay. “What’s on your list then, Mulder?” I asked, leaning towards him. 

He mimicked my posture with a toothy grin, which gave him a boyish quality. “One beer isn’t enough to bring that out of me, Scully.”

Shaking my head, I took another drink from my glass. “If it isn’t the pot and the kettle.”

He scoffed, finishing off his beer. “The pot and the kettle - oh please. I’d serenade you right here, right now, if I wasn’t a little concerned that you might shoot me if I did.”

I laughed, reaching across the table to nudge his shoulder. “Oh shut up, Mulder.”

The sun had lowered, but its light remained, highlighted by a purple tint. The string lights provided a comforting glow against the wall of neon inside; Mulder's face possessed both: a glimmer of faded electric blue slightly intertwined with the golden hue. At the sight of him like this, my stomach performed its routine somersault and moisture collected on my palms. I broke our eye contact to look down at my tightening grip on the glass that I now held in both hands - an attempt to revive the previous chill that had gone lukewarm, if for the warm weather than by the heat radiating from my hands.

I cleared my throat, forcing myself back into the moment, and lifted my eyes again to meet his. The growing silence between us had eluded me, and I only noticed it now because it was clear that Mulder had been waiting for me to return to him. His smile remained, undisturbed, but amused. A rush of heat flooded my cheeks again as I took another sip; at this point, the beer seemed to act as more of a catalyst than remedy to the bundle of nerves that only tightened with Mulder’s consistent and uncanny read of me. 

“How are we doing over here?” Our waitress returned, her eyes quickly taking note of the table. “A box? Another round?”

“Yes, thank you.” Mulder answered for us. She collected his empty plate and glass before blurring through the portal of neon. Mulder rested back in his chair, his eyes inspecting me as he crossed his arms over his chest. I finished my beer and crossed my legs. “I like this. This "regular people” thing. It’s nice.” He watched me. 

I nodded in agreement, my leg touching his. “It is nice.”

A flash of something flickered in his eyes as our eyes continued their dance. “It’s definitely not going to make returning home any easier.” He attempted a light, teasing tone though he was very serious.

“I know.” I reached out to touch his face, causing Mulder to lean in closer to me. “We’ll figure it out.”

Mulder took my hand in his and supplied a kiss to my palm. “I’ve already figured it out.”

“Oh?” I studied him.

Mulder’s demeanor loosened and the playful gleam returned to his eyes. “Well yeah. We assume new identities and move to Switzerland.”

“Ahh I see.” I nodded, our fingers dancing around each other. “The Alps, the cultural richness and diversity, the advancements in science and medicine…”

“The Tatzelwurm.” Mulder seamlessly added.

Sighing, I shook my head, propping an elbow on the table to rest my chin in the palm of my hand. “Of course, the Tatzelwurm. Dare I ask?”

Mulder raised his eyebrows as he questioned: “Oh, you don’t know the Tatzelwurm, Scully? The dragon with a cat’s head and a serpent's body?”

I bit back a smile. “So, the Swiss really do have a little something for everyone.”

Mulder reached across the table to grab my shoulders with a wide smile. “You’re seeing the glass half full, Scully.”

“Uh-huh.” I nodded with a small smirk. “So long as I get to pick the names.”

“What? I thought you’d like the Zweifel’s!” He teased, mocking surprise.

I couldn’t help but laugh as I rested my forearms on the table with a nod. “The Zweifel’s? Very clever, Mulder.” It was only fitting that Mulder had noted my fluency in German and waited for the chance to use it against me, as Zweifel translated to doubt. “I see you’ve been brushing up on your German.”

“I’m full of surprises, Scully.” He mimicked my position. “And, wouldn’t you know it, the Swiss have a popular karaoke scene around Zurich.” Another laugh escaped me as Mulder continued. “Are you familiar with karaoke, Scully? I think you’d enjoy it.” He echoed my laughter.

“Fine, Mulder! I confess. I do have a - brief - history with karaoke.” I lifted a warning finger at him. “And this information should never be uttered to another soul.”

Mulder raised his hands defenselessly, amusement clinging to his expression. “Dana, please. Tell me more about this secret life of yours. How many times?”

Quickly reflecting on some very drunken nights in college, I finally revealed. “About…three.”

“Three?” Mulder’s eyes widened and he laughed. “Scully, why have you been keeping this from me?”

“Wait, wasn’t it my turn to ask the questions?” I raised my eyebrows.

“Okay. One song guess, Scully - it’s all you get.”

I rolled my eyes. “That hardly seems fair considering all that you’ve done since we got here is guess.”

“Okay, well since I’ve apparently maxed out on guesses, I’ll give you three chances to guess one of my karaoke songs, and in return, you have to freely reveal all three of your karaoke songs. Deal?” Mulder negotiated as our new drinks and my takeaway box were deposited on the table.

“I give three answers for only one lousy song? That hardly seems fair.” I gave him a side eye as I loaded my leftovers into the styrofoam container - being sure to place my empty plate near the edge of the table.

“Then what would be fair, Scully? Tell me.” He asked, taking a drink from his pint glass.

Considering this while I watched the light reflecting in his eyes, I smiled at my forthcoming suggestion. “Rock, paper, scissors - three sets. Best two out of three. Loser reveals one song.”

Mulder gave me a look of disbelief and a crooked smile. “Scully, are you sure that you want to do that? You can just tell me your answers now and keep things civil.”

“Mmm. Okay, let’s make this more interesting.” I took a sip of my replenished drink. “If I win, you have to eat something off of the Scully Gross Food list.”

“Oh Dana, I didn’t know that we were playing dirty.” He leaned back in his chair and folded his arms across his chest. “Okay, sure. But if I win, we have to watch Plan 9 from Outer Space.”

“Mulder…” I groaned, deflating into my own seat.

Mulder laughed. “What, are the stakes too high for you, Scully? Can’t take the heat?”

“Mulder, you’ve seen it like a hundred times.” I sighed, crossing one leg over the other.

“Thirty-seven, but who’s counting.” He smiled, sitting up. “Come on, Doc. You talk the talk, you gotta walk the walk.”

Begrudgingly, I matched his posture with my hands prepped. “Fine.”

“Worried?” Mulder winked at me, his own hands prepped.

I loosely glared at him, my lips pressed into a tight smile. “Oh I’m not worried, Mulder. But you should be.”

He chuckled before slightly leaning forward and I did the same. We nodded in agreement before hitting fist to palm - one, two, three: Mulder and I both chose rock. He narrowed his eyes at me and we continued - one, two, three: another tie with rocks. One, two, three: another tie with scissors. “A tie allows for mutual guesses.” Mulder added with a smile.

“Okay.” I agreed, suppressing my own. I bit down on my bottom lip as I thought. Considering Mulder’s love of classic rock, I figured that answer would be too obvious - and knowing him, he would choose something that no one would expect. Mulder also didn’t provide a timeline for his apparent karaoke career. “I don’t know, Mulder! Maybe… Africa?” I guessed.

Mulder raised his eyebrows and laughed a little. “Africa? As in Toto?”

“Yes!” I laughed too.

A moment passed between us and for a second, we were lost in each other until Mulder broke the spell. “Two more chances.” He reminded me, taking a drink from his glass.

Our legs were touching again, which temporarily distracted me. I cleared my throat again. “Mmm. Okay. Was I close or far-off?” I asked him firmly, trying to focus on this exchange instead of the nonverbal one passing between us.

“Uhh…Not terribly far off.” He thought for a moment before pointing a finger at me. “Like A Prayer?”

“No.” I adjusted in my seat, my foot running up his leg. Mulder slid his glass towards the center of the table, near mine - our fingers grazing. The heat returned to my face and I took another drink. “Duran Duran.”

“This is starting to feel like a theme, Scully.” He observed with a tick of his eyebrow. “Besides you only had one guess.”

“Oh come on… You had so many!” I frowned despite my smile. Mulder remained amused by my antics and provided a nod of approval for me to continue. “Michael Jackson!”

“Nah, I was too afraid to take on MJ.” He confessed as he rested his chin in his palm.

“Okay, so what was it?” I prompted leaning in closer. 

He smiled at me, his hand reaching across the table - not for his glass, but for mine. I lifted my arm slightly, both of our elbows resting on the tabletop as he intertwined our fingers. The warmth and dryness of his hand seemed to ground me, and although I was enjoying our time spent in the bar, I was ready to return to our cabin. Mulder made a gesture with his free hand through the window before refocusing on me. “I have two.” He finally said. “And you can’t laugh because I provided bewitching performances of both.”

“I’m all ears.” I prompted, offering his hand a gentle squeeze.

Our waitress breezed by the table, dropping off the check in her wake. Mulder pulled out his wallet, considering his response as he placed the proper amount in the booklet. “I could just tell you, or… I could sing them to you.” He mischievously smirked.

“You sing, and you’re walking back to the cabin.” I warned and pointed a menacing finger at him.

Mulder chuckled with a nod. “Okay, okay. Easy tiger.” He paused to drink his beer. One particular fan favorite was Prince.”

My eyes widened. “Which song?” I questioned.

With a glint in his eyes, he leaned towards me again. “Come here, Scully.” His voice was low and serious.

My stomach dropped, but I obliged - inching toward the center where our glasses sat, touching. Making it there before he did, I watched the small satisfactory smile that graced his lips before they graced mine. Our kiss was brief, but as we broke apart, taking another moment to absorb our closeness, the warmth and hoppiness of his breath brushed across mine. “We should go.” He told me, and I nodded in response as he led me, hand-in-hand, out of the bar.

The stop for groceries was quick with Mulder and I breezing through the aisles - our priorities set on returning to our temporary home. Mulder claimed the drive back with very little protest from me, considering the blanket of darkness that fell over the countryside. Our quaint, little cabin stood against the surrounding blackness, windows glowing with warm light. Mulder suggested that I start the bath while he took over the chore of bringing in and putting away our haul. 

The smell of lavender and eucalyptus enveloped the tiny bathroom, spilling throughout the remainder of the cabin - battling the firewood for precedence. I found candles in one of the cupboards, positioning them carefully along the tub.

“Red or white?” Mulder called from the kitchen.

“Red.” I said over the roaring waters before turning the faucet off. 

Mulder walked in then, two glasses of red wine in hand. “Wow, look at this, Scully.” He wagged his eyebrows at me.

I laughed, taking the glass of wine that he handed me. “I mean, why not?”

“If you want to get a mortgage, just say that.” He teased, wrapping an arm around my waist and pulling me close.

My cheeks flushed, and as I turned away, his hand gently caught my chin, guiding my gaze back to his. Our lips met, and somehow, our glasses found their way to the countertop. This kiss was different from the ones we’d shared throughout the day—it was deeper, more relaxed, with nothing left to do but nurture this time together. 

Mulder pulled away, his eyes sparkling with mischief. "Ladies first."

I rolled my eyes, smirking as I gently pushed his chest to create some space. I began to undress, feeling the weight of his gaze on me. After teasingly pulling my hair into a ponytail, I finally stepped into the tub, the warm water enveloping me like a comforting embrace. Mulder quickly followed, shedding his clothes and joining me in the water.

We settled into the tub, the bubbles creating a playful barrier between us. Mulder reached over, pulling me closer onto his lap, his hands warm on my skin. His lips met mine again, moist and inviting.

I pulled back slightly to see his face, beads of condensation and sweat dotting his forehead. “Wait, which Prince song?” I asked, remembering the abrupt end of our earlier conversation.

Mulder made exaggerated kissing noises before blessing me with a falsetto: “ Kiss .”

I laughed. “What’s the second song?”

Mulder smiled, arms still wrapped around my waist, holding me close. “What are your songs, Scully?”

I bit my lip, running a wet hand through his hair. “Well, one time was with some friends.”

“What, Girls Just Want to Have Fun ?” He studied me, amused.

As I started to drift away, Mulder pulled me back into his orbit, kissing my chin. I let him hold me, the water rippling around us. With a sigh, he nestled his head into the curve of my neck. “What a day, Scully.”

I lightly stroked the back of his head. “A good one?” I asked, meeting his gaze.

“A great one.” He nodded, still watching me as he leaned back against the tub.

I smiled in agreement. “For me too.”

“You know what though? I can’t stop thinking about that old man from the gas station this morning.”

I rearranged myself in his lap, my hands resting on his shoulders. “Right? The same darkness that swallows the night still inhabits the day? ” I recounted; a frown etching into my features.“What do you think of that?”

Mulder locked his arms around my waist as he considered this. “Well, it’s like the X-Files, Scully. Our search to uncover the truth. There’s always something lurking just beneath the surface, you just have to look closely.”

I slid my hands across his shoulders, wrapping my arms around his neck. “But even in our cases, there’s a nuance. Most of the time things aren’t white or black, but we have to decide which is which. Which is the natural order of things; it’s our inherent need as humans to crave balance, categories to sort the chaos into - our brains need those short cuts to process information. So when we think of duality in terms of light and darkness, yin and yang, right and wrong, good and evil, the saint and the sinner - we approach each day with blinders. We’re faced with choices, of which even the smallest decision can have the biggest impact. What seems right at the moment can turn out to be wrong. We can only do the best with the information we have.”

“Scully, I think that I’m rubbing off on you.” Mulder teased and I rolled my eyes. He shifted slightly beneath me, his mind turning. “You know, when I was in Violent Crimes, we were always searching for a motive - the why. Anything to force sense into those heinous cases. Most cases are straightforward: every action has a reaction. A husband finds out his wife is cheating, and he kills her and her lover. A kid who’s been abused kills their abuser. Are either of those right? No, but understanding the motives makes it easier to bear. We condemn the husband and defend the kid, even though both actions result in the loss of life.”

“But Mulder, both of those scenarios are driven by emotional responses provoked by the victims’ actions.” I pointed out.

“But most crimes are emotional responses, Scully. A random woman has no need to suspect that someone she’s never met or met briefly developed an attachment to her. She’s going to continue her routine, and the person is going to have the upper hand and murder her. And the worst part is that she’s not even going to know that she was supposed to be protecting herself against this assailant. And why does the assailant carry out this act? For their own thrill, sexual or otherwise.” Mulder let out a sigh. “Evil exists, Scully. We’ve both seen it. There’s no rationale. And those people, every single one of them, hid in plain sight.”

“Darkness inhabiting the day.” I added, staring past him at the flickering candlelight. I was reminded of the cases that we had worked on, more specifically: Donnie Pfaster, the death fetishist, who had murdered and defiled numerous women. Who had abducted me with the same intent. Despite his current lifelong imprisonment, his punishment felt too light for the weight of his crimes. 

“Anyway.” Mulder lightly flicked my chin. “What’s another song?”

I shook my head. “What about our wager?” 

He smiled at my refusal. “Don’t worry, Scully. I won’t force you to watch Plan 9 .”

Feigning surprise, I folded my hands over my heart. “Wow, Mulder. You must really love me.”

“Yeah, yeah. Don’t let it go to your head,” he said with a low chuckle. I brought my hand to his face, studying him in this suspended moment. Mulder’s hand met my cheek, and words gave way to a comfortable silence as we absorbed the quiet between us. He kissed me again, and I relaxed into him, sinking further into our shared bliss.

***

Stray rays of summer sun filtered through the thin curtains, its light casting warmth across my back; I curled onto my side, my face still half buried into the plush pillow. Expecting to be met by the sturdiness of Mulder’s frame, my eyes fluttered open to bare, crumpled sheets. Coffee wafted into the room and I looked towards the doorway to find Mulder slowly walking in, coffee cup in one hand as he waved the steam in my direction. I found myself smiling as I watched him; he was in a t-shirt and pajama pants, and his hair was styled by last night's bath and his own pillow. His eyes met mine and he paused. “Well, shit. I was trying to surprise you.” He smiled, closing the space between us and sitting on the bed beside me.

“You did.” I smiled, taking the mug from him as I scooted up against the headboard.

Mulder braced himself with his arm as he leaned towards me, his eyes roaming over my face as I took a sip. “How’d you sleep?” He asked, tucking my hair behind one ear.

He gently stroked my cheek and I held his hand there, turning my head slightly to kiss his palm. Our eyes locked another silent conversation. Memories of our night together replayed in my mind and I felt heat flush my cheeks, but I didn’t look away. Mulder’s thumb grazed over my mouth, dragging softly, but enough to part my already willing lips.

His eyes fixed there for a moment before they returned to mine. Mulder lifted his eyebrows in anticipation as I nestled our hands under my chin. “Peacefully.” I finally said, taking another sip of coffee. “How’d you sleep?”

He leaned in inches from my face, a smirk playing in his lips. “Like a log.” Mulder said, pressing his mouth to mine. I grunted in protest when he broke our kiss too soon and he laughed a little. “We’re going on an adventure today, Scully, remember? A nice trip to the forest.” He winked, standing up.

“The last time that you said that, I distinctly remember that we almost died.” I looked up at him from my spot in bed.

He placed his hands on his hips, amusement riddled across his face. “Scully, the past is the past. Carpe diem. Besides, the chances of potentially dying in the forest has significantly decreased for us now that we already have a few near death experiences under our belts.” Mulder flexed his muscles. “We’re stronger than ever, Scully. I could take on a bear after last night.”

I laughed, shaking my head and taking another sip of coffee before placing it on the side table. “This has got to be one of the worst pitches that I’ve ever heard.”

Mulder frowned and crossed his arms. “Worst pitch, huh? Well, I may not be Whitey Ford, but today could be our Mickey Mantle moment. We step up, take a big swing, and who knows? We might just hit it out of the park.”

“Mulder, I might not know a lot about baseball, but I’m pretty sure you’re mixing up your metaphors. Just because Mickey Mantle could hit home runs doesn’t mean we’re going to avoid getting lost in the woods – or worse. But fine, I’ll play along. Let’s go hit that grand slam, slugger. Just promise me we won’t need a search and rescue team to find us.” I climbed out of bed and patted his shoulder as I made my way towards the bathroom.

 Mulder grinned, clearly enjoying the banter. “Scully, it’s just you, me, and the great outdoors. And maybe a monster or two along the way. You know, just to keep things interesting.” He called after me. “Hurry up so we can make Mickey Mantle proud!”

The rest of our morning progressed smoothly: completing our usual routine - albeit with a few distractions, having a quick breakfast, and loading the car with supplies - from first aid to snacks and a blanket for picnicking, even entertaining the possibility of swimming by packing our swimsuits and towels.

I opted to drive and Mulder obliged, wanting to take the time to review the notes that he had scrawled in the travel guide - cross referencing with local lore and sightings. I silently listened as Mulder gushed about apparitions, creatures, and a string of disappearances - his voice heightened with his enthusiasm. It quickly became apparent that this hike was more than us reconnecting with nature. I parked in the main lot; Mulder jumped out of the car first, eager to begin our trek. We slung on our backpacks and set out. Mulder offered fun facts about the local flora and fauna as we deepened our trudge into the trees.

Although nothing was really wrong, the excitement that I had for this trip had slightly dwindled; I was still anticipating the journey, but partly due to Mulder’s fixation on the unknown, I became unsure of the real motivation of us being out here. The last thing that I wanted was for our first trip together to be overridden by an X-File - that was the whole point of taking this vacation in the first place.

“How can you explain those disappearances, Scully? These people weren’t runaways or suicidal - they were taken.” Mulder continued his one sided rant.

Through narrowed eyes, I studied him. “Mulder?”

“Scully?” He echoed my tone with a glance in my direction.

“This whole weekend isn’t some elaborate setup for you to investigate these unexplained phenomena, right?” I reached out to take his hand, stopping our stride.

He shook his head. “Of course not, Scully.”

I nodded, still watching him carefully. “Because I would be very upset if our first real vacation together was a ploy.”

Mulder closed the small space between us and cradled my face in his hands. He leaned in, his breath warm across my mouth as he firmly pressed his lips to mine. Mulder broke our kiss, but remained close - his forehead against mine, our noses touching. His naturally calm demeanor was a stark contrast to my clammy hands and haggard breathing. Anyone within earshot would’ve assumed that I’d just finished a morning's worth of hiking instead of just being kissed. 

Mulder kissed my lips again and then my forehead before pulling back to look at my face completely. My face felt hot between his hands, certainly my own doing, but I was planted where I stood, staring up at him and waiting for whatever he would surely say.

“Scully.” A small smirk played on his lips, which regained my attention. “No X-File is worth more to me than you are. No sightings of BigFoot, The Pig Man, ole Slipperyskin, apparition, nor lake monster could keep me from you. Am I curious? Sure. But, when am I not? You signed up for the ravings of a mad man, Scully. I hate to break it to you.” I laughed and he smiled. “I’m sorry for making it seem like I didn’t care about this weekend with you. I promise, Scully. There’s nowhere else that I’d rather be. Well, I mean, there’s a few places that I’d like to be with you, but they’re all conveniently back at the cabin.”

I shoved his shoulder and he pretended to stumble back. “So, am I forgiven?” He asked with raised eyebrows, reclaiming his place inches from me.

I sighed, looking up at him. “You’re forgiven. For now.”

He smiled, clearly relieved, and met my eye level. “So, does that mean that we get to make up now?” 

“There’s still a lot of mountain left, Mulder.” I squeezed his cheeks as I walked around him to rejoin the trail. He quickly fell in step beside me.

“You know, Scully, statistically speaking, couples that resolve their conflicts amicably have a higher success rate usually due to the establishment of a foundation rooted in respect, empathy, and collaboration.” Mulder informed me while walking atop the large rocks along our path.

I looked over at him. “I think that we have that.”

He smiled, hopping back down to leveled ground. “Yeah. I do too.”

“For the record…” I began, squarely facing him. “I love your commitment to the truth and the X-Files, and I want you to pursue the things - the cases that you’re interested in. It’s never going to be me versus that. And if you want to go to some haunted lake or bridge while we’re here, I don’t see the problem with it. I just don’t want it to consume all of our time here.”

Mulder wrapped an arm around my shoulders. ”I know. And thank you. You put up with more than you should.”

I looked up into his eyes and sighed. “I don’t put up with it, Mulder. I care about you and what we do.”

He smiled at me, holding the back of my neck. “The feeling’s mutual, Scully.”

We leaned into each other, Mulder folding me into his arm as he kissed me again. As we parted, I made a show of scanning the area. “So, what are we looking for? Slimy Skin?”

Mulder laughed. “Slipperyskin, Scully. But he’s not the one that I’m interested in at the moment.”

I nodded as I crossed my arms over my chest. “It’s always nice to have options.”

“Now you’re getting it, Scully. We prioritize the bumps in the night while respecting our limited availability.” Mulder slid his hands into his pockets and rocked back on his heels.

“So, who - or what is lucky number one?” I asked, and as if on cue, a bloodcurdling scream vibrated through the trees.

My body stiffened, and I saw Mulder’s do the same. Our eyes locked, and like a dance, we both unclasped our holsters and removed the safety on our weapons. Mulder nodded in the direction behind me. “It came from there.” He moved around me to take the lead.

Without another word, we started moving toward the source. As we pushed through the underbrush, I couldn't shake the feeling that our work had followed us even here, into the heart of this idyllic Vermont forest.

"Stay close," Mulder said, his voice tense. "We don't know what we're walking into."

We moved quickly but cautiously, the scream still echoing in our minds. The woods grew denser, the light dimming as the canopy above thickened. I kept my hand on my holster - ready- as we reached a small clearing. We stopped, taking in our surroundings and calculating our next steps.

The beautiful summer day was echoed; fresh blooms, streams of golden light breaking through the overhead netting of branches - even the birds still sang despite the thick tension hanging in the air. At the center of this serene scene stood a woman; young, early twenties, about five-foot-six, shoulder length brown hair, Caucasian - her body trembling from obvious shock. Her legs and feet bare beneath the oversized sweatshirt that she wore - its sleeves stained along with her hands in what appeared to be blood. I cautiously stepped forward as my medical training took precedence. Her wide, brown eyes locked onto mine. I hesitated, but then clarity hit, sharpening my senses. I knew her. The ponytailed brunette from the bar.

Chapter Text

The world around me narrowed to my senses. A gust of wind rustled through the canopy of leaves, carrying with it a faint metallic scent. My breathing was still hitched from the sprint downhill, and the deafening beat of my heart seemed to radiate through my entire body, my pulse extending to the moisture collecting on the handle of my weapon. I took a deep breath, trying to regain my composure, my eyes still locked on the wide brown ones staring back at me. Mulder inched closer, ready to intervene if needed. I straightened my back, planting my feet firmly in the ground beneath me, signaling to him that I was ready and able to handle whatever came next. With a steady hand, I reengaged the safety on my weapon, then raised one hand in a gesture of calm while reholstering with the other.

“Hi,” I said softly, holding up both hands as I cautiously made my way down the small incline. “My name is Dana.” Her whimpers grew against each tremor as I slowly advanced. A gash cut across her forehead, dried blood staining parts of her face - a smudge just below her jaw, crusted strains of her hair. “We know each other. We met in the bathroom last night.” I pressed calmness into my voice, aiding in my own decompression as much as hers. “Are you injured?”

She hesitated, visibly considering the question. “I… I don’t…” Her voice was quiet and strained, likely from screaming, and she slightly shook her head.

“Okay, good.” I nodded, noting the small whips and nicks across her bare legs. “I’m a medical doctor. Do you know your name?”

Another beat passed before she nodded. “Annie. Annie Petersen.”

“Hi Annie.” I let out a small sigh of relief, loosening some tension, but my guard remained. “This is my partner, Mulder. We’re FBI agents. We’re here to help.” I paused to allow her to absorb the information before continuing. “Is that all of your blood that’s on you?”

“I… I…” Her breathing increased as she began taking in her surroundings, including me and, a very protective, Mulder in my wake.

I lifted my hand, palm out, slightly. “It’s okay. Relax. You’re safe. We’re not here to hurt you. No one is going to hurt you. We want to help you.”

Our eyes locked again, hers riddled in a state of fear and confusion with which I had become too well acquainted. “My friends?”

“Your friends?” I questioned as I studied her. “Where are your friends?”

I watched the sheen collect in her eyes. “I… I don’t know. I don’t know where I am.”

Only a few feet now separated us, and I stopped myself from going forward providing enough for her comfort and my own safety, if not the added concern of Mulder. “What’s the last thing that you can remember?”

Annie was still as she thought, her eyes trained to the ground - probing her own mind for information. It was apparent that she had become calmer and gradually more alert despite her fragile condition. Annie tried to clear her throat a little before speaking again. “We were camping… by a lake…” Her voice was soft and hoarse as she continued searching. “We went to sleep and… I woke up here.”

I nodded and studied her. “How many friends? Can you tell us about them?”

“Just two. Mimi and Nathan.” This was easier for her to recall.

“Mimi and Nathan.” I confirmed as their faces and general characteristics solidified - the other two with her at the bar. “Thank you, Annie. You’ve been very brave. Once we take you to a safer place, we can start looking for your friends too, okay?”

She nodded.

“Is it okay if I approach to examine your need for medical attention?” I asked her before making any further movement.

With a nod of approval, I was readily in front of her and dropping with my backpack in one swift movement. My hands moved quickly but steadily as I grabbed the small first aid kit and flashlight from my backpack. I looked over my shoulder at Mulder, still standing near the edge of the clearing, weapon in hand and trained to the ground. It was clear that his guard hadn’t faltered in this time that had been spent surveying the area as best as he could without threatening my situation. We exchanged a small nod, prompting Mulder to begin moving along the perimeter - ensuring that our current security wouldn’t be short lived.

“Okay, Annie.” I said, standing and facing her again. “I’m just going to check your vitals and check for any injuries. You’ll receive a thorough examination with the medic, okay?”

“Okay.” She whispered with a small nod, her frail frame still vibrating.

“Okay.” I offered a small reassuring smile before beginning.

 I checked her eyes, noting a burst blood vessel in the right, her mouth and throat, which were normal, as well as her jaw and lymph nodes, also normal. A physical examination revealed that Annie had a dislocated shoulder and rolled her left ankle; the shock dulled the pain she should have been feeling. 

“This might sting a little, Annie, but I have to clean and dress the wound on your forehead. You will need stitches at the hospital.” I told her, kneeling where she now sat. Mulder’s voice lingered in the background, low and authoritative as he called in the situation.

She nodded again, but remained silent. I ripped open one of the few alcohol wipes, leaning in closer as I gently dabbed the area - she flinched and I lightly blew the area as I continued to clean. Covering the wound with a gauze and a couple of band-aids, I had expended my capabilities without the proper equipment. Mulder moved into the orbit that Annie and I had cultivated, and we both looked up at him; he kneeled then, matching our eye level - his weapon already holstered again.

“Annie?” He confirmed, and I watched as she nodded. “Hi Annie. I’m Mulder. I called ahead for help. It will be easier for them to find us if we move closer to the road.”

My eyes wandered from his to hers. “Do you think that you’re okay to walk some?”

She finally spoke again. “Yeah. I think so.”

I looked back to Mulder. He cleared his throat. “I… umm… I can carry you if that’s easier.”

Annie’s eyes moved between us before giving another small nod. "That... that might be better."

"Okay." Mulder nodded a confirmation and made a small gesture for her to stay. “We can wait a little longer -  let them get a headstart.”

Annie nodded, falling quiet again. Mulder and I exchanged a glance as he stood up; I glanced back at Annie, her eyes now fixed on the grass. Reaching for my bag again, I grabbed my water bottle and handed it to her.

“Hey Annie? I’m going to go talk to Mulder, but we’ll just be right over there, okay?” I pointed to where Mulder now stood. She looked between us and nodded, her hand still slightly shaking as she took the bottle from me. My eyes roamed over her again; the struggle to understand her own fear and confusion was still evident in her eyes. I gave her a small smile before following in Mulder’s footsteps.

“What do you think, Scully?” He asked as I stopped in front of him.

I let out a sigh, folding my arms as I glanced back to where Annie sat. “I don’t know, Mulder.” I admitted, looking back up at him. “Judging by her ankle and the markings on her legs and feet, she had clearly been running from someone, or something. The bursting of a blood vessel in her eye indicates extreme stress or strain. And as for her shoulder… it could have been anything: a physical altercation, or even falling while running - either of which could likely be the cause of her head injury…”

Mulder nodded, a hand stroking his jawline before joining the other on his hip. “And the blood?”

I shrugged, shaking my head. “I think that we’ll have a better idea once we find her friends.”

Mulder studied me for a moment before asking: “Is that what you want to do, Scully?”

I blinked a few times as I considered his question. Our recent past, now felt distant, far away from this present moment, when in reality, not that much time had passed from our conversation on the trail earlier. And that was the cycle that we had always found ourselves in - onto the next case and the next case, moving in a straight line while our relationship remained at a standstill. Of course, I wanted to move forward with this weekend -- our weekend, but that just wasn’t our reality. 

Biting down on my bottom lip, I looked down at our shoes and the distance between them until I could meet his eyes again with my resolve. “It’s not about what I want, Mulder. This is what we do.” I finally said.

“Dana…” Mulder sighed and took a step closer, his eyes searching mine, and as he opened his mouth to continue, the faint sound of sirens seeped into our quiet.

“If we’re going to move her, now's the time to. Once the pain sets in it’s going to be a lot harder on her.” I interjected, my feet already moving towards Annie.

Mulder easily fell in stride, mirroring my movements as I knelt in front of her. “Okay, Annie. Let’s get you out of here.” I offered another small smile as I extended my hands towards her and coaxed her back up with me. 

Mulder’s arms braced us until we were steady before gesturing for Annie; I made eye contact with her again and offered an encouraging nod.

“I promise that you won’t have to smell me for long.” Mulder attempted to ease the tension. Shooting a side eye his way, I turned my attention back to Annie, who actually managed to crack a microscopic smile.

I delicately ushered her closer to him, and he used just as much care to lift her into his arms. “Be careful with her arm.” I reminded him though he hadn’t given me any reason to. Looking over my shoulder, my eyes scanned the clearing, finding it to be much larger than I had originally noted. I turned back to Mulder and Annie’s awaiting gaze. “I’ll stay here.” I suggested. 

Mulder’s eyes reflected his concern. “Scully -”

“It’s okay.” I reassured him with a curt nod. “I want to give the area a quick sweep. I won’t go any farther, I promise.” Mulder was unconvinced and let out a brief sigh. I unholstered my weapon slowly, not to alarm Annie, but to reassure him that I would be fine. The nearing sirens offered additional support. I nodded toward the sound. “Go. I’ll be here when you get back.”

“Right here.” Mulder firmly stated.

“Right here.” I confirmed. “I’ll be fine.”

“Call me if anything happens.” He instructed me, and I nodded again.

With another sigh, Mulder finally began making his way through the trees with Annie, and once they were out of sight, I let out a small breath of my own.

Turning and kneeling to retrieve my flashlight from its place on the ground, I clicked it on - enhancing what the filtered sunlight couldn’t. I studied the ground around me, bathing the green grass in a cone of white light. I maneuvered slowly, each step deliberately placed in case anything relevant had been hidden or discarded. Near the spot where Annie had clearly woke, the flattened grass held a reddish tint. I knelt over the area for a closer look, noticing dried droplets of blood at the base of the imprint; they were scattered but close enough that they formed a trail towards the back edge of the clearing, where the trees and thick bush interlocked the forest into near total darkness. I shone my flashlight in the general area of Annie’s presumed entrance into the clearing, but only darkness reflected from the distant spot where I still knelt. 

As I stood up, my eyes followed the rays of sunlight breaking through the canopy. I blinked away the stinging that creeped into my vision, quickly wiped my eyes with the back of my hand. Closing my eyes, I took a deep breath of the thick woodsy scent lingering through the trees and riding on the wind, and allowed the surrounding nature to ground me again. Mulder’s question echoed in my mind again: “ Is that what you want to do, Scully? ” He asked it as if it was an option - as if we had a chance; the honest truth was that there was no reality in which we walked away from this and continued about our weekend. Even if we tried to ignore this, we would both be too restless to consider anything else. That was the reality - our reality. Our work, helping others would always take precedence. 

The snapping of a twig gripped my attention. I turned back to the clearing edge, the source of the bloodtrail, with my gun and flashlight aimed. “Hello?” I called out, my voice seeming too loud against the eerie quiet. I listened to the following silence before slowly advancing. “I’m a Federal Agent and I’m armed. If there’s anyone there, I suggest that you make yourself known and come out with your hands raised.” No answer. Nothing, but the soft padding of my shoes across the grass. “I’m approaching. This is your final warning.” 

I stopped at the barrier. With my weapon and flashlight still raised, I firmly planted my feet between the light and the darkness. “For your own safety, make yourself known.” I called out again as I scanned the dense foliage, finding nothing unusual or out of place at first glance. The likelihood of the sound being a bird or a small animal was high, but considering that we were missing at least two people and a possible assailant, a person was still higher on the list. But as I stepped forward, plunging myself into the near total blackness, the warm summer air around me cooled. I continued to survey my surroundings, and as I inched further, an unsettling feeling nestled into the pit of my stomach. The overbearing scent of wet, fresh earth assaulted my senses, petrichor without rain. The earthy scent was accompanied by the underlined, subtle smell of decay - old, rotten - different from the fresh scent of blood from earlier. 

The homeless man’s warning echoed in my mind: The same darkness that swallows the night still inhabits the day.

I lowered my weapon slightly and stopped, listening as I stared ahead into the void. The darkness seemed to press against my eyes, dense and tangible - unnatural considering the early afternoon hour. And that’s when I realized that there was no sound at all - no bugs, birds, animals. No breeze ruffled through the trees. I barely heard myself. Absolute silence.

Thoughts of Donnie crept in again, as did the moment that I doubted my own ability to survive true evil. In his closet with my wrists and ankles bound, and in total darkness, I knew his intentions; killing me would be prelude to satisfying his necrophilic and cannibalistic urges. But even then there were sounds: his footsteps, running water - the sounds were the only thing that provided comfort until they were gone. The abruptness of the water shutting off sent prickles across my skin as my fight or flight took over. But here, this felt different. I didn’t know what I was walking into or what to expect - there was no predictable outcome to weigh against my existence. The unknown was all that lay ahead and any attempt made by me to thoroughly inspect this part of the woods would be near to impossible without the assistance of a proper search party. That’s what I would wait for - backup - Mulder.

Sighing, I shook my head and turned on my heels to head back to the clearing. One step forward and it consumed me. Total darkness. Its tendrils clung to my vision, snaking across my face and around my head in cold, slimy laps. My hands desperately clawed at my face in an attempt to remove it, only feeling my skin; I reached out and waved my arms in front of me, only to be met by the emptiness that surrounded me. My breaths became shorter, my heart drummed in my ears. I kept blinking, hoping to clear my vision to no avail. And like the opening of a dam, flood waters washed over me; an overwhelming pressure thickened the air, its heaviness anchoring my inability to breathe. I opened my mouth, gasping, as I tried to propel my cemented feet forward. A bitter taste enveloped my mouth - an indistinguishable rot. My constricting throat carried a weightlessness to my head, and I knew that I was seconds from losing consciousness. My senses had been so focused on breathing that I had forgotten the firmness in my hand - my weapon. My only chance for survival relied on obtaining help as soon as possible - especially if I lost consciousness. Without a second thought, I aimed my weapon towards the sky and fired.

The thunderous clap reverberated around me as air instantly flowed into my lungs again. I choked against it, falling to my knees. With each gasping breath, I crawled forward until I collapsed into the growing light of the clearing.

***

Gasping, my body flung upright. I coughed against the sudden flood of oxygen, my hands reaching out and landing on a firm softness that I held onto. My vision was still cloudy, blurs of figures and muted sounds surrounded me, and I blinked my eyes against them.

“Hey, hey… It’s okay... You’re okay…” Clarity broke through the muffled filter as Mulder’s voice seeped in.

Squinting, I blinked a few times until the world around me came into view. Mulder’s face was in front of mine, his eyes revealing his concern while I gripped his shoulders. He guided me into his arms and I tightened mine around him, burying my face in his neck as my breathing and heart rate slowly began steadying. 

Mulder’s soothing words continued as he stroked my back; I accepted them, nodding against the hand bracing the back of my head. Running a hand across my face, a grogginess settling over me as I pulled away from his embrace. Mulder’s eyes were asking me the same question that I was asking myself: What happened? I tried to focus on him, watching his lips move in what felt like slow motion as he told me something that I couldn’t quite grasp - the slight delay making this moment feel dubbed. My eyes moved past him to our surroundings. We were still in the clearing, but no longer alone; others had joined us: a few officers and first responders, one of which was heading straight towards me.

The woman knelt next to me; her wavy red hair was restrained in a long braid that draped over her shoulder, and her blue eyes seemed too similar to mine. She was too familiar, too identical. She was Melissa. I hesitated as I blinked again, taking an extra moment with my eyes closed before opening them. I studied the woman now, her hair chin length and darkened into a deep shade of brown, her eyes matching. I watched her lips move and nodded again. Name? She asked me for my name. “Dana. Scully.” I cleared my throat and time seemed to catch back up.

The lingering stillness had evaporated as a slight breeze returned, carrying the scent of pine, the birds restarted their song overhead as the small chirping of insects filled the space in between. The clearing glowed brighter, streams of sunlight flowing in to replace the dull, gray that I remembered - reflecting the early afternoon hour. The gunshot echoed in my ears again - the suffocation, my lead-filled limbs drifted to the forefront of my mind. Looking over my shoulder, I stared back into the throng of trees, their darkness less intimidating with newly found light. 

“Do you feel any pain anywhere, Dana?” The woman pulled back my attention.

I turned to her, my eyes roaming over her face for longer than necessary before shaking my head. “No. I feel fine.” I finally said, straightening my posture and tucking my hair behind my ears. My eyes met Mulder’s again, clearly unconvinced by my self-assessment.

“Is it okay if I check your vitals, Dana?” She asked, already opening her medical bag, and I gave another nod and she went to work: checking my pulse, blood pressure, circulation - the works.

As she continued her evaluation, Mulder sat quietly by, observing each step. “Was Annie taken to the hospital?” I interjected as the pupil light nearly blinded me and I followed her index finger from left to right.

“She was.” He replied in a leveled tone from where he was stoically stationed. “Annie was able to provide the location of the campsite; the Sheriff and his team are mapping out the search.” 

“Your vitals are all normal, Dana. Your blood pressure is slightly elevated, but still within normal range. Let me know if any symptoms develop before you leave.” She politely smiled, repacking her bag.

“Thank you.” I stifled a small sigh as she walked out of earshot, and rose to my knees. Finding my weapon and flashlight in the grass next to me, I turned the safety back on before holstering. I hesitated for a moment, staring down into the lush greenery and the insects that inhabited it - it was all expected, natural; nature was a constant that stopped for no one and nothing - it could never be an empty void - but for a brief moment in time, it had been. I looked up to find Mulder’s eyes already locked onto mine. “There’s a blood trail leading into the trees. That’s where we should start the search.” I offered to his straight expression. Clearing my throat again, I let out a breath. “I’m okay. Really.” I made another attempt to reassure him.

“Dana…” Mulder leaned closer, his green eyes searching my face. “What happened?” He finally asked, his voice gentle and rooted in concern over curiosity. 

My stomach twisted uncomfortably and I braced myself to stand back up - Mulder’s hands guiding me in the process. His hands lingered for a beat too long on my elbows before they found their way to his hips, still waiting for me to respond. I let out another sigh and crossed my arms with a loose shrug. “I don’t know, Mulder. The heat and the adrenaline just caught up with me. That’s all.” I attempted to rationalize the experience to him.

Mulder’s expression reflected my failure as his eyes bore into mine - still searching for the truth. “The heat?” He repeated.

“And adrenaline…” I emphasized, and he folded his arms across his chest. “Hiking combined with the burst of adrenaline and heat - my body just got overworked and crashed at the first moment of reprieve. It’s completely normal to feel drained after dealing with such an intense situation.” 

Mulder exhaled and stepped closer, lowering his voice as his expression softened. “Heat exhaustion doesn’t usually cause people - you - to start firing off rounds. And you and I both know that you’ve handled worse without so much as a scratch. So, why don’t you tell me what really happened?”

We were at a standoff, somewhere that I didn’t want to be; Mulder knew me too well, sometimes better than I knew myself, but despite the transparency that easily flowed between us, I also needed time to process before sharing - I needed time to dissect and analyze, exhaust all options before Mulder dove in headfirst. So far, there were no other explanations for what I had experienced; it had to be a panic attack - that was the only logical explanation. “Mulder…” I began, drawing in a breath.

“Talk to me, Dana.” He whispered, his face too close to mine. “Did you see someone - something?”

“I don’t know, Mulder.” I finally admitted, shaking my head. “I mean, I didn’t see anything - I couldn’t see anything. I was just surrounded by woods and darkness. And… I don’t know… I was overwhelmed and maybe I overreacted, but all that I could think to do was fire my weapon…”

Mulder’s head tilted back slightly as he raked over my thin retelling of events, yet still with enough information to churn his thoughts. His eyes drifted to the trees for a moment, his mind elsewhere before refocusing on me.  “I’m sorry, Scully.” Mulder sighed and shook his head, taking my hand in his as he stepped further into my orbit. “I should’ve stayed with you.” His other hand grazed my cheek in a mild escape from his side.

Groaning, I ran a hand through my hair and crossed my arms. “Please don’t do that.”

His eyebrows drew in as he studied me. “Do what?”

“Try to protect me from everything.” I clarified. “You can’t, Mulder, and I don’t need you to. Okay?”

Mulder rubbed his eyes as his voice strained to remain neutral. “Scully, you were just unconscious. So, I’m sorry if I’m not exactly leaping bounds to put you in harm’s way.”

My face suddenly felt hot as I clenched and released my jaw. “Mulder, I’m fine. We can’t give up on this. We owe it to Annie to find her friends because we said that we would.” I paused to take a breath. “I told her that we would find them.”

“And they will be found, even if not by us. The Sheriff and his men are more than capable, Scully.” Mulder tried to reassure me.

I pressed my lips together, shifting my footing slightly before proposing another angle. “This could be an X-File.” I confessed, looking up into his eyes.

“No.” He said firmly, not denying the possibility but our involvement. There was a long silence between us as we stared at each other.

“I know that you don’t mean that.” I challenged him. “You told me about the things that have happened in these woods: disappearances, unexplainable deaths. How could this be an outlier?”

Mulder looked away from me then, scanning the area until he could meet my eyes. “It doesn’t matter if this is an X-File, or not. I’m not willing to put you at risk again.”

Reaching out for him, I resisted the urge to touch his face and settled on his shoulder. “Mulder…” I sighed, looking up at him; the heaviness in my chest heating my face. “We can’t… You can’t turn away from the X-Files - not for me, not because of us.”

“The X-Files are us, Scully. That’s the whole reason why we’re here, right? To try to separate from them?” His eyes roamed my face. “The X-Files will always be there.”

“The X-Files are wherever we are.” I corrected him - and it was a painful truth that neither of us wanted to willingly acknowledge. Mulder ran a hand across his face and exhaled a breath through his nose before returning his hands to his hips. “You know that there’s no scenario that involves us walking away from this. There’s something more at play here and it’s our responsibility to help find these kids. I’m fine. Let’s hope that they are too.”

Mulder studied me for a moment before he finally nodded. “Okay. You’re right.”

I sighed. “Mulder, I don’t want to be right.”

“Well, isn’t that your job, Doc?” He teased, breaking the tension between us. “To prove me wrong?”

I sighed, looking up into his eyes. “I could be wrong too.”

“Hey, so can I,” Mulder smirked and nudged my chin with his index knuckle. “But I trust you, Scully. You keep me honest. And I know that you don’t need me to protect you, but I’ll always have your back. I’m sorry.”

I shook my head. “No. I understand. This can be hard to separate from sometimes.”

Our eyes lingered on one another for a moment until Mulder nodded and cleared his throat. “Yeah, well, I do think that something paranormal is happening here. Possibly some kind of entity.” He paused, deliberating. “You might be susceptible to it, and maybe Annie was too.”

My eyebrows drew together as I considered this. “An entity?”

“Yeah, they can manifest themselves in different ways, a dark shadow or cloud - sometimes just a feeling.” Mulder paused again. “Some interactions with evil spirits or forces have resulted in strange, unexplainable behaviors and memory loss.”

“Okay, wait.” I held up a hand. “I think that we’re getting ahead of ourselves. Let’s just focus on finding Annie’s friends and evidence.”

Mulder looked over his shoulders at the officers still gathered near the edge of the clearing. The scene began unfolding around me as I took in new details: a controlled entry and exit point had been established where the Sheriff and his men stood; a local officer taped along the perimeter while two others were focused on documenting the scene. 

“Let’s go see what else we can find out.” Mulder suggested, nodding at me to follow him as he turned on his heels.

“What did Annie say exactly? About where they were.” I asked him as I took a few extra steps to match his stride.

Mulder shrugged, glancing down at me. “She said that they had been camping on the north side of the lake, where the trees are denser. It’s not much, but it helps establish a radius.” He told me as we stopped in front of the small cluster of deputies and the Sheriff. Their eyes locked on us as Mulder gestured towards me. “Sheriff Thompson, this is my partner Special Agent Dana Scully.”

Sheriff Thompson towered over his peers, perfectly erect with a toothpick posed in his mouth, over which a thick graying mustache rested. He held out an oversized hand in my direction. “Ma’am.” He nodded at me. “You okay?”

“Sheriff. Yes.” I took hold of his grip and gave a curt nod. 

“Quite the situation we have here.” Thompson folded his arms across his barrel chest, rolling the toothpick to the other side of his mouth. There was something comforting about him; a northeastern dialect, the veteran type reminiscent of my father and my brother, Bill, and the men on the bases that we grew up on.

"Which is why we'd like to join the search.”  Mulder stepped in. “We have experience with these kinds of situations."

“And as a medical doctor, I could provide aid, if needed.” I added, perfecting my own stance.

Sheriff Thompson looked between us, assessing our value and federal rank. "Alright. Just be careful out there. The terrain can be dangerous, especially if you don't know it well.” 

Mulder and I nodded our understanding. “There’s a light blood trail leading into that area of trees.” I told him and tilted my head in the direction. “Annie, likely, wandered into the clearing from there - at moderate pace judging by the consistent blood spots. If she’d been running, they would’ve been scattered and harder to track.” I took a beat, ensuring that the Sheriff and his lingering deputies were following though competency was evident in their demeanor. Gesturing to the still flattened, stained grass, I continued: “It seems that she collapsed here, and that’s where we found her.”

“How’d you come across her?” Thompson asked us.

“She screamed.” Mulder interjected, his stance mirroring Thompson’s with a touch of casualty.

“Yes.” I confirmed. “I conducted a brief external examination: head injury, dislocated shoulder, sprained ankle. There are minor injuries to her feet and legs that reflect signs of running through this environment - scrapes, cuts, and bruises, and a burst blood vessel in one of her eyes. Annie is displaying symptoms of shock; this seems to be affecting her memory - creating an uncounted gap of time between being at the campsite with her friends and waking up here. Our only insight into what transpired last night are from the details of her injuries.”

“And if Annie’s condition is any indication of what she potentially managed to escape, it’s important for everyone to realize the stakes and prepare for the worst.” Mulder added, resting his hands on his hips.

Sheriff Thompson slowly nodded just as his radio crackled: “Sheriff, all parties have arrived.” One of his officers informed him.

“Copy.” He gruffed into the speaker and gestured for his flanking men to leave the clearing. Thompson turned back to us with a nod to follow him. “I’ll emphasize the potential dangers when covering our search strategy.” We fell in line, sliding on our abandoned backpacks and trailing him along the tape designated route. “Agent Scully?” Thompson looked over his shoulder at me, calling me forward.

“Yes, Sheriff?” I looked up at him as I matched his stride.

“Why did you fire your weapon?” He asked just before we broke through the threshold of trees.

“It was a warning shot. I thought that I saw something - nonhuman.” I told him, which wasn’t really untrue.

Thompson grunted with a slight nod. “The Game Warden and Park Ranger should be here. They’ll explain the wildlife in the area and the best course of action if you cross paths.” He gave me a pointed look as he walked ahead when we entered the small area along the road where a large group had now gathered along with the various squad cars, trucks, and emergency vehicles.

“Yippee-ki-yay, Scully.” Mulder whispered in my ear, nudging me slightly as he reclaimed his place beside me.

Despite rolling my eyes, Mulder still managed to earn a small smirk from me.

Thompson leaned over the hood of a squad car where a map lay extended; he pointed and gestured to his delegation until they were in agreement - further emphasizing his reign of this domain. The briefing that he provided was just that, though thorough. Thompson rallied the troops, splitting them into smaller search teams, each equipped with a radio, map, a K-9 and its handler, and a park guide -  proving himself to be every bit of the authority that he commanded. It was all a functional well oiled machine where everyone knew their purpose and responsibility. As mentioned, the Game Warden and Park Ranger were in attendance to offer a few cautionary words about the wildlife and terrain. When Thompson found the time to acknowledge the presence of two federal agents in his jurisdiction, it served as a footnote - a happenstance, and he was sure to clarify that our involvement in his investigation was strictly voluntary.

Mulder, never needing much prompting, interjected with a palpable amount of casual authority to not only reiterate our experience, but his prior sentiment to the Sheriff regarding the heightened stakes tied to the unpredictability of the situation and the unknown condition of the missing persons. Thompson only nodded before dismissing the lot, staying behind himself with the emergency crews and other local enforcement personnel. There was the impending sense that whatever time that we had left to find Mimi and Nathan was quickly running out.

Thompson didn’t object when we suggested that our search team begin at the bloodtrail back in the clearing, seemingly trusting us enough not to interfere with the scene. Mulder and I were flanked by a park guide and a K-9 with his handling officer; the guide, Maya, was young, but seemingly comfortable and confident in her ability, the officer, Greene, well-seasoned, and Bruce, the black dutch shepherd, falling somewhere in between. Upon returning to the familiar landscape, Mulder and I headed straight towards the bloodtrail at the back edge of the clearing.

My heart seemed to skip a beat as we crossed the field and sweat teased my palms; the darkness didn’t seem as oppressive now, a low glow of golden light highlighting the forest just enough to be visible. My feet stopped before crossing the threshold again; I took a subtle, calming breath as I unholstered my weapon and looked to Mulder.

He studied me for a moment, unholstering his own weapon in the process, and glanced over his shoulder at Maya and Greene. “Good?” Mulder asked them.

Greene nodded, watching as Bruce inhaled the scent of the bloodtrail. “Yeah, he’s good to go.”

Mulder turned his attention back to me. “Who’s afraid of the Big Bad Wolf, huh, Scully?” He smirked, clicking on his flashlight. “Ready?”

He waited until I met his eyes. “Yeah.” I nodded, aiming my weapon and clicking on my own flashlight. As we slid into the dim yellow haze, my body tensed; my eyes darted around, trying to see as much as I could, seeking out every shadow for a glimpse of the same darkness that I hoped to avoid. A breath escaped me, either out of frustration or disbelief, as we found ourselves welcomed by the delicate sounds of nature that enveloped us, marked by the return of birds and insects, and the warm breeze carrying floral and rich, earthy scents. It’s near fairytale-like quality, mocking the horror that I had experienced. 

Mulder and I naturally formed a path between us, allowing Bruce and Greene to take the lead; we mirrored each other - Mulder scanning the left with his flashlight as I did the same on the right. Lush greenery hid the forest floor as the dense towers of red oaks and eastern hemlocks worked to obstruct a clear line of vision ahead. Despite the serene state of the forest, the feeling of something looming over us, lurking around the next bend of trees was present. It was hard to tell if anyone else could feel it.

“The lake is mostly a straight path North.” Maya’s musical voice cut through my thoughts, effortlessly blending into the surrounding beauty.

Turning slightly to look over my shoulder, I found Maya’s side profile - delicate features and a prominent ponytail aimed up at the blanket of leaves and branches. “How far is it?” I asked her, refocusing on the sea of green.

The sound of crinkling paper preceded the map that she opened, doing a quick one over. “About six miles.”

“Six miles? In her condition?” I questioned, my eyebrows drawing in as I turned to meet Mulder’s eyes.

“It makes you wonder what she was running from.” Mulder gestured with his flashlight.

I followed his cone of white light to more dried blood, this time sprinkled across a bush along our path; recalling Annie’s injuries, aside from the gash on her forehead, any other cuts were minor - nothing that would cause this much bleeding. 

“Greene, what would it take for you to run six miles in this?” Mulder asked him.

Greene chuckled a little to himself before responding in his thick coastal accent, continuing to follow Bruce’s lead. “If it ain’t a million dollars, not a damn thing.”

Maya hid a small smirk while Mulder laughed as his light maintained a steady scan.

“What about you, Agent Mulder?” Greene countered, not bothering to look back.

Mulder briefly caught my eye again. “If lifelong Yankees tickets are off the table, it’d have to be something really important.” He responded in his usual cadence, causing the corner of my mouth to hitch slightly. Taking another breath, I resumed my inspection of the blood splatters along our path.

“What about you, Maya? Six miles in this landscape.” I joined in, kneeling over another spot with my flashlight. 

Glancing up, I caught her slight shrug and she met my eyes over her shoulder, her ponytail swinging. “My life, or the same as Agent Mulder - something really important.”

“Scully?” Mulder tilted his head towards me slightly as I stood back up. “What about you?”

I shrugged too, my eyes remaining locked on the natural world around me. “I don’t know - the same thing. My own survival, someone else’s, or something equally as important.”

“What do you think motivated Annie?” Mulder raised an eyebrow as he turned to face me.

“Primarily, her own survival, and then that of her friends.” I told him, my arm brushing against his as I continued along the path behind Maya.

Mulder easily matched my stride and nodded to himself, falling silent until his eyes locked with mine again. “So, Annie collapses after six miles, wakes up, and her first concern is her friends despite allegedly having no recollection of the previous night.” He paused, leaning over to examine something in a shrub before standing back up. “I think that she remembers more than she’s letting on, even if she doesn’t want to admit it.”

My feet stopped as I stared down at the blood trail. It wasn’t right - it didn’t make any sense.

“Scully?” Mulder prompted, studying me. “What is it?”

Greene and Maya looked back at us then. I shook my head. “The blood. The blood that we’ve been following doesn’t belong to her. It couldn’t be Annie’s. It can’t.” It suddenly dawned on me while three sets of eyes questioned my conclusion. Focusing on them, I explained further: “The amount of blood is inconsistent with her injuries. It’s more likely that this could all be from the blood that she was covered in.”

Bruce pulled ahead, prompting our continuation. “Six miles, covered in someone - or something else’s blood.” Mulder began, his eyes heavy on mine. “Kind of makes you wonder if she sustained her injuries before running for her life or during.”

“With the terrain at night, it is very easy to get hurt if you’re unfamiliar with the area.” Maya added, her tone possessing a more solemn quality than before.

They fell silent. As the facts were, it was extremely likely that all of Annie’s injuries could have been due to the journey; a trip, an awkward fall, a low hanging branch hidden by nightfall. With the addition of adrenaline, she would have kept traveling despite being injured repeatedly - which would align with her subsequent collapse and confused state. But even still, there would have been a catalyst, something that she witnessed or feared - the initial flight didn’t stem from nothing.

“Even if she did, it doesn’t account for the blood and it wouldn’t diminish the fact that she was fleeing from something. Something that was either directly or indirectly responsible for her injuries.” I reminded them, looking at Mulder specifically. “There’s still a lot that we don’t know.”

Mulder turned his light back to the forest. “I just hope that Mimi and Nathan can provide more answers than questions.”

We pressed along the blood riddled path with Bruce leading the way. The shifting sunlight through the interlaced canopy served as our only measurement of the passage of time. Our feet trudging forward, Mulder and I were still scanning for potential threats and evidence while Bruce and Maya fought for leadership of our path. As we got closer, the wall of knitted branches and trees began to break, filtering in bright white light ahead of us.

The landscape came into view between the shield of trees, only offering a glimpse of mountains and water until we met the treeline. There was a collective pause as we took in the natural beauty: the blinding afternoon sun glistened over the expansive lake, framed by the lush greenery of trees and nearby mountains; the sound of rippling water, the wind rustling the leaves, life. It was another striking contrast to the horrific reality that we were faced with.

I exchanged a glance with Mulder and we briefly scanned the area, nothing seemed out of place - the droplets of blood had become scattered and scarce within the last mile, aligning with the theory of Annie’s frantic movements when running.

“Yeah, this is Officer Greene. Our party reached the northside of the lake. Nothing to report yet.” Greene spoke into the radio as Bruce’s nose searched for grass for a scent. The radio crackled back a “copy”, and he put it back on his hip.

“Is there a designated camping spot on this side?” Mulder turned to Maya.

She slightly shrugged. “There are preferred, suggested areas, but the closest is about a twenty minute drive away. We’ve had some bare-bones campers just prop up wherever they’d like though. Usually college and high school kids during the summer.”

“Huh… that’s kind of refreshing to hear. I didn’t realize how in tune with nature the younger generation was.”  I confessed, beginning to examine the northern white cedars along the coastline.

“Well…” Maya paused, causing me to look back at her. “I wouldn’t say that it’s so much about the love of nature as-”

“Human nature.” Mulder interpreted with a laugh, following my lead by inspecting the area. “Where else is there to go for a little privacy?”

Rolling my eyes, I gave his eyes a quick flash of my light. “Young adults in their early twenties certainly don’t need to sneak off for privacy.”

Mulder smiled at me. “Oh come on, Scully. Breaking the rules and camping lakeside. It’s… romantic.”

“Romantic.” I repeated, inching further ahead. “Does it still count as romantic if there’s an extra person on your lakeside rendezvous?”

“I would say that’s subjective.” Mulder smirked, causing Greene to laugh.

“Please don’t encourage him.” I told Greene as he followed Bruce’s lead, all of us naturally fanning out.

Leaves crunched and twigs snapped under the weight of our feet, the sound echoing off the bark, while the surrounding density deepened. The lake dampened the air, tainting the cedar and pine with musk. Despite the obvious beauty, there was an eerie undercurrent; I couldn’t imagine being here after nightfall, let alone sleeping in a place like this.

Bruce’s barking caught my attention and I watched as Greene struggled to hold his leash, which inevitably slipped through his hands, causing him to fall backwards as Bruce sprinted away into the thickness. My frozen limbs moved, taking me to Greene while Mulder took off after Bruce.

Greene sat up quickly, waving off the extended hands that Maya and I provided. “I’m fine, I’m fine.” He gruffled, standing up and already following after them.

I shared a look with Maya before jogging ahead, wanting to preview whatever scene lay before us. Leading the charge, we cut through the overlain trees - between which I caught glimpses of Mulder standing next to Bruce. 

Along our path, there was a clear, flat area - perfect for camping with the evidence scattered about. A couple of abandoned backpacks beside a makeshift fire pit, empty beer cans, discarded clothes, a partially collapsed tent, and other various belongings littered the area. I pushed through, needing to see whatever Mulder and Bruce had discovered.

“Mulder?” I called his attention as I closed in.

He quickly turned around and closed the space between us; his body too close, his expression too serious. “What is it?” I asked him, feeling Maya and Greene’s eyes on us, but knowing that they were wondering the same.

Mulder’s eyes bore into mine, aged with a horrified familiarity. He stifled a sigh and cleared his throat. “Scully, you need to prepare yourself for what you’re about to see.” He cautioned.

A lump caught in my throat as I slowly nodded and stepped around him. Maneuvering through the trees, my vision focused on where Bruce stood at alert, and it wasn’t until I was close enough that I pulled my eyes from his coat. My heart sank as beams of sunlight fell upon two bodies. A man and a woman. Nathan and Mimi. 

Their bodies lay a few feet apart. Mimi’s body was further ahead and face down in the grass, her limbs twisted. Even from a small distance, I could tell that her condition was far less grotesque than Nathan’s current state. If not for his blood coated red hair and a faint memory of his body type and size, I could have been looking at anyone. The structural bones in his face had been depressed, shattered pieces slicing through mangled tissue and blood; his chest cavity had been torn open, his internal organs partially exposed and visibly damaged. The brutality of the act was not only inhumane in nature, but the strength and force needed to inflict this level of violence surpassed human capacity.

“Jesus Christ…” Greene heavily exhaled as he took Bruce’s leash again.

Swallowing the nausea rising in my throat, I pulled a set of gloves from my pocket. “Could you get Maya out of here?” I asked him as I worked the latex around my fingers and he nodded.

“Yeah.” He hesitated for a moment before nodding to himself again. “I’ll call it in.” He offered as he walked away with Bruce in tow. 

Sighing, I knelt next to Nathan’s body for a closer look. Mulder mimicked my position as he looked over the scene. "I think that it’s safe to assume that no animal did this." He said, his voice low and tense. 

Leaning in to inspect the lacerations across his skin, I shook my head. “No. No animal could do this. Even if it were possible, there are no other signs consistent with an animal attack - no bite or claw marks, nor tracks.” I gestured towards the skin near Nathan’s chest. “In fact, the damage to the skin would suggest tearing - as if he was ripped apart…”

Mulder winced, standing back up. “Any theories, Scully?”

“Not without performing an autopsy.” I sighed, raising to my full height and giving Nathan another quick observation before heading towards Mimi.

She lay on her front, her body seemingly intact and fully clothed in a t-shirt and lounge shorts. Taking a knee next to her, I carefully moved her hair away from her blood coated face. She had clearly taken a beating; her nose appeared to be broken, her mouth slacked in a way that could indicate that her jaw was either broken or dislocated, and there was bruising on her neck. As I took hold of her wrist to check her pulse, Mimi’s body reanimated with a gurgling cough.

"She's alive!" I looked at Mulder, relief flooding through me as I leaned in closer to her. Mulder ran towards Greene and Maya, his voice asking for immediate medical attention.“Mimi, you’re okay. You’re safe now. Don’t try to move or talk, okay?” I soothed, touching her hand.

Mimi remained unconscious; her breathing shallow and her heartbeat was faint, but she was still holding on. Whatever horror had transpired the previous night, Mimi’s memories were the key to piecing the puzzle together. Mulder’s eyes met mine, and in that brief moment, we knew that we were now tethered to this case and uncovering the truth.

Chapter Text

The sun hung heavy overhead: its sky still blue and streaked with clouds, the ground still a vibrant display of summer. Loose gravel held my attention for longer than it should have; I pressed the toe of my running shoe against it, adding its crunchy texture to the surrounding procedural cacophony. My eyes drifted to my wrist to check the time: a quarter after two; hours of daylight lay ahead, whereas my own momentum had slipped to half-mast. A cloying scent drifted by as the stiff wheels of the gurney squealed in protest against the pebble-paved parking lot; my parotid glands tingled, flooding my mouth with saliva at my growing nausea, and I swallowed against it, watching the straining transporters inch the thick, black body bag towards the van parked near the entrance.

Mulder and I stood with Sheriff Thompson, his attention split between us and the incident report that he was signing. Lines defined his features, only deepening with the clenching of his jaw around the toothpick he chewed. We had already divulged the events of our search to him with Mulder naturally taking over for Thompson’s investigative inquiries. The crime scene investigators added another layer of anticipation as they meticulously combed the campsite and surrounding area while loitering uniforms and search crews hoped for any shred of new information about the attack. The identities of the victims had been confirmed to be Nathan Harris and Mary-Ellen Joyce, Mimi, residents of Pennsylvania.

“Another goddamn media circus. Exactly what this town needs...” Thompson slipped in under the breath he exhaled, handing off the documents to an awaiting deputy. As I tuned into the conversation, I shared a look with Mulder, which didn’t go unnoticed by Thompson; he spit out the splintered pieces of wood and dragged the back of his hand across his forehead before reaching into the breast pocket of his shirt for another. 

“Are you referring to the string of disappearances and deaths tied to the area?” Mulder’s casual voice, tinged with a peaking curiosity, drew my attention to him: his hands on his hips, his head slightly tilted, a hitch at the corner of his mouth as he surveyed Thompson for a reaction. Mulder was in his element; fully fueled and already scanning for a crevice to burrow himself into.

Thompson took Mulder in, attempting to read him just the same, as he slid a fresh toothpick into his mouth and crossed his arms with a nod. “Guess that proves my point.”

Mulder’s brows twitched inward as he continued to study Thompson. “And what point is that, Sheriff?”

Thompson took a moment to assess the surrounding forestry, arms still fastened across his wide chest. “Agent Mulder, this park stretches for 400,000 acres; this range for 250 miles. We can regulate and educate people of the dangers of the area until we’re blue in the face, but at the end of the day, we’re dealing with nature.” He paused, refocusing his attention on us and rolling the toothpick in his mouth. “People get lost out here and go missing. Some come out here for one last look… and others with ill intentions. It’s unfortunate but common. We do what we can when those situations arise. So, despite whatever fear mongering reporters might say to sell papers, there aren’t a string of occurrences. And any incidents have all been isolated – like this one.”

Mulder nodded as he casually mirrored Thompson’s stance. “I understand, Sheriff. This is a lot of area to cover, and I can tell that you’re running a tight operation here.” Mulder swept the parking lot with a nod before fixing on Thompson again. “Although some instances may be isolated, it's important to acknowledge when others start to form into a pattern.”

“Stare at anything long enough, you might start connecting dots that aren’t there.” Thompson countered, his tone even and matter-of-fact.

A smirk played on Mulder’s lips and he shrugged his shoulders. “Turn a blind eye long enough, you might end up with more than paperwork in your hands.”

Thompson grunted with a nod and rested his hands on his belt. “Thank you for volunteering your time today, and for all of your assistance with locating Mr. Harris and Ms. Joyce. I’m sure there are things you’d like to get back to.” He paused intentionally. “I hope that you enjoy the rest of your time here. It is beautiful this time of year.”

Mulder smiled at me, his eyes highlighted with a defiant twinkle that forced my jaw to clench in an attempt to maintain my demeanor. He looked back to Thompson. “Actually, Sheriff, we were hoping to stick around for a bit. Provide a fresh set of eyes to things.” Mulder’s voice was light and neutral as his eyes locked with Thompson’s. “A case like this does fall under Federal jurisdiction after all, but we'd just like to offer our support.”

“With that being said, Sheriff Thompson,” I quickly tacked on, taking a single step forward into the budding tension to shield Mulder from their standoff. “We will need to speak with Annie again, as well as Mimi, if she stabilizes. Which hospital have they been taken to?” 

Thompson rolled the toothpick to the other side of his mouth as he slowly shifted his focus from Mulder towards me, the line between his eyebrows momentarily relaxing. “The University Medical Center. The body too.”

“Thank you, Sheriff.” I nodded and pressed my lips into a tight smile. “We’ll be sure to keep you and your men updated.”

“Talk soon.” Mulder added as we picked up our backpacks, tossing them over our shoulders and heading towards the car. “I think he likes me, Scully.” He muttered under his breath once we were out of earshot, his arm casually grazing mine in a brief apology. 

Rolling my eyes, I drew in a breath as I focused on our short path ahead. Our eyes met again as we stopped at the rear of the car. “We don’t have jurisdiction with this case, Mulder.” I reminded him with a pointed look as I used the key to unlock the trunk. 

“Not with that attitude.” He leaned in with a smirk and we dropped in our backpacks. The corner of my mouth twitched upward as Mulder reached up to slam the trunk shut; turning to face me, he gestured for the keys. “So much for a vacation, huh, Scully.” His touch lingered as he slid the keys from my extended hand. “Next time let’s opt for a nice beach resort. I’m talking 1-800-Sandals.” He said into my ear as he curved around me to the driver’s side. 

I stood there for a moment for one last look at the scene before reclaiming the passenger seat. Mulder started the car and clicked off the radio–his hand immediately reaching for the state map in the glove compartment, his attention already fixated on his thoughts. The sound of crinkled paper filled the car as he shook the map open, spreading across the steering wheel and dashboard. “What are you thinking?” I asked as I clicked my seatbelt in place, shifting against the hot leather seat to face him. 

“Well, right now I’m thinking about the best route to the hospital.” He answered, examining the map then refolding it. Mulder placed it between us and both hands on the wheel; he paused for a moment, mentally and physically shifting gears before twisting towards me, his hand gripping the back of my seat as he prepared to reverse. The swift movement of his head stopped mid-route on its way to the rear window and his light green eyes locked onto my face–his ongoing investigation. “How are you feeling?” Mulder’s calm and steady voice filled the silence, his hand moving from my seat to rest against the side of my face–his thumb lightly brushed over my cheek and I placed my hand over his, keeping him there. 

I nodded with a small smile. “I’m fine. It's just…been a day.” 

He slightly leaned towards me, his voice low as if his words were only meant for my ears. “We don’t have to do this, Scully. We can always go back to the cabin.” Mulder reminded me, his gaze heavy with promise and meaning. 

Parting Mulder’s hand from my face to hold, I noted the differences that allowed them to perfectly mold around one another and secured their union by the cover of my other. “No…” I lightly shook my head, my eyes still trained on my lap. “No, Mulder, I’m fine. I can handle it.” My head met the rest as I stared back at the glimmer of worry lines that manifested across his forehead and shaped his eyebrows.

“I know that you can handle it. But I just want you to remember that you don’t have to.” Mulder’s eyes were warm and soft as they moved over her face again. My cheeks heated under their weight but my focus on him remained. 

Nodding, I rubbed my thumb across the back of his hand. “I know. Thank you.”

Mulder nodded and an easy silence passed between us; when he finally pulled his hand free from my grasp, he teasingly pinched my chin before returning it to the back of my seat–setting the car in motion. As he pulled onto the main road, my eyes locked onto the passenger side mirror, catching one last glimpse of the parking lot and Thompson’s straight frame peaking above the officers that surrounded him–no doubt hoping to be rid of us and this case. This case, in which more information uncovered more questions.

My thoughts drifted back to the bar–to Mimi and Annie’s karaoke performance and the lively youth that radiated from them: Mimi’s big personality taking center stage, but still managing to coax Annie from her shell while Nathan cheered them on stageside. The image of their once flushed, happy faces now possessed a haunting quality of its own.

I reached out to touch Mulder’s hand on the wheel, unable to rid myself of the need to feel the solidity of his comfort. Mulder turned his hand to hold mine, his skin warm and firm, and brought it to his lips. The feel of his breath across my hand seemed to rush over my body; the softness of his mouth and the sprouting stubble combined into a gentle kiss. He settled our hands, interlaced, on his leg as he drove. 

The panels of green blurred along our path, and my eyes drifted out of the passenger window, my thoughts back to the forest. I closed my eyes for a few moments of reprieve, suddenly more aware and grateful for the quiet sounds of the car and the road. Six years in the Bureau hadn’t desensitized me to this kind of  brutality, there were still cases that haunted me–things that I had seen–experienced; I could feel them chipping away at the wall that I had so masterfully crafted. The months of forced normalcy in the form of low-stakes and low-priority cases provided a steady rhythm, a breathable space where the results were quantifiable; it was a place that felt comforting and safe, that allowed the events of the past year to lull into the background, unforgotten but silenced. 

 Mulder’s eyes were fixed on the road; he had quietly retreated into his thoughts, gently providing space for my own decompression. I turned in my seat to face him again. He briefly looked over at me before returning his eyes to the pavement ahead. “What?” He prompted with a second glance and a half smile.

I jerked my chin towards him. “What are you theorizing over there?”

Mulder laughed a little, shaking his head. “Nothing that doesn’t involve Facehuggers and Chestbursters.”

“Ah I see.” I nodded with a small smirk. “Abandoning your unfounded entity theory for something more cinematic already, Mulder? Any other horror films that you would like to submit for consideration?”

Mulder’s laughter assaulted the confined space of the car, and he glanced over to smile at me. “Didn’t you say that The Exorcist was your favorite movie as a kid?”

“Not enough to recreate.” A smile threatened my lips, which I shielded with my free hand as I propped my elbow against the door – my eyes moving to survey our surroundings as we halted at a stoplight near the expressway.

“Not your kind of role play, Scully?” He quipped as he set the car in motion again, taking an on-ramp.

Shooting him a warning glare, Mulder caught it and laughed, pressing another quick kiss to the back of my hand before sliding his away to reach for his sunglasses. “But, you know…” He began, his voice reflecting its usual cadence indicative of crossing threads.

“Oh brother…” I feigned exhaustion, although interested in whatever explanation would follow.

His amusement was evident, but he continued: “What do The Exorcist and Alien have in common?”

“Great special effects teams?” This earned me a pointed look over the rim of his sunglasses, and I smiled as I shrugged my shoulders. “I don’t know, Mulder. They both carry themes of resilience in the face of unprecedented circumstances.”

Mulder nodded, considering this–one of his hands leaving the wheel to smooth over his jawline. “And fear is the motivator.” He almost said to himself and pulled the bag of remaining sunflower seeds from the door pocket. Mulder tossed a couple in his mouth, still managing to balance the wheel as he extended the bag towards me.

Taking a couple, I continued to focus on him–sliding a salty shell into my mouth. “Isn’t that why they’re horror movies?” The cracking shell sounded between my teeth and I discarded it into the stray plastic bag from the gas station between us as I chewed its seed.

“Fear could make you run six miles barefoot.” He offered me a side glance as he dropped his own shells into the bag.

“Yeah… Annie probably witnessed what happened to Nathan and–or Mimi and ran.” I studied him. “What’s your point?”

Mulder licked the salt from his lips, his eyes locked on the road ahead–his mind clearly in thought. “Those were the kids from the bar last night.” He started, his eyes shifting to mine briefly. “So they… have dinner, grab a few drinks, sing karaoke, and decide to camp at hook-up lake.” He paused. “What was at that lake…?”

“Annie was the one crying in the bathroom last night–the one that I talked to.” I added, realizing that I hadn’t verified her identity.

Mulder nodded. “I figured. Do you know what she was crying about?”

A sigh escaped me as I passed the remainder of seeds in my hand onto Mulder. He easily collected them and I recalled my conversation with Annie: “Yeah, I mean, I think so. She said that this trip was originally meant to be coupled, but she’d recently experienced a breakup. It was clear that the karaoke aspect of the night was outside of her comfort zone, and that likely added to her emotional response.”

“Seeing a presumably happy couple when you’re grieving could easily breed resentment.” Mulder pointed out, returning the bag of seeds to their apparent place.

I shook my head. “That may be, Mulder, but given the condition of Nathan and Mimi, Annie wouldn’t have been able to carry out such an act.”

It was Mulder’s turn to shrug. “She could if she was influenced.”

“Influenced?” One of my eyebrows ticked upward as my eyes roamed his profile. “You mean, possessed?” He smiled at me. I groaned, sinking into the seat further. “And to what do you base that on, Mulder?”

“Well, if we’re looking through the lens of horror films–in both, The Exorcist and Alien, human characters are used as hosts for the possessor's interests.” He began, looking over at me before elaborating. “The facehuggers latch onto the faces of a host to use their bodies as a vessel for reproduction, while Regan’s possession is seen more so as spiritual and psychological warfare. Although her body is the one being overtaken, the effect on those around her empowers the demonic spirit–it feeds on the terror and chaos it provokes.”

“Those are just movies, Mulder–no doubt taking cues from real parasitic behavior found in nature.” I pointed out. “I can easily think of the Sacculina Carcini, or the Cordyceps Fungus, which you'd probably like.” Mulder made a proceeding gesture with his hand and I smiled, continuing: “It’s been referred to as the "zombie fungus"; it infects insects and manipulates their nervous systems to control their behavior. By controlling the host, the fungus forces the insect to move to an optimal location and then bursts from their bodies to disperse its spores and spread the infection.”

“And how long until that zombie fungus evolves and we start spewing spores?” Mulder smirked, his hands gliding across the wheel.

“About the amount of time that it’d take for me to believe that Annie was possessed.” Our eyes met briefly as Mulder changed lanes.

“But, you had an experience out there, Scully.” Mulder looked at me again. “That can’t be an outlier, right?” He used my earlier words against me.

“I had a panic attack.” I reiterated in an attempt to convince him, but his expression reflected my failure as he momentarily pressed his lips together. Letting out a sigh, I folded my arms across my chest. “Don’t go connecting dots that aren’t there.”

“Et tu, Brute?” He scoffed, mock offense defining his features. When I rolled my eyes, Mulder’s expression softened. “Come on, Scully. When was the last time that you had a panic attack?”

Struggling to manifest an occurrence, I shrugged. “I don’t know, Mulder. But, that doesn’t mean anything.”

“It means everything, Scully.” He looked at me. “Because you don’t panic. You maintain control, that’s like your whole thing. You’re not exactly the spontaneous type.” He paused, a slight smile playing on his lips. “Well, not usually.” He added then sighed. “You think rationally under pressure–your every action is measured and deliberate. I know you, Scully.”

My tongue brushed across my bottom lip and I pressed them together. Mulder did know me, too well, but he could say the same about me with him. Thoughts of the moment between me and the void slithered to the front of my mind; my weapon and flashlight raised, its light creating a wall against the impenetrability of darkness. I could almost taste the rot, bubbling up my throat–twisting my stomach and flooding my mouth with saliva. I swallowed against it. Something about the memory seemed cloudy, or maybe it was just from my disorientation in the moment.

Melissa… The memory of my sister, reflected through the EMT, resurrected. Since her death, Missy had a way of, I guess, looking out for me? It sounded crazy, and someone like me shouldn’t believe that it was possible–but my father had also appeared to me before I learned of his death, and Missy had manifested herself into a phone call to tell me about Emily, just months ago. I shut my eyes, my hands instinctively pressing against the welling of tears. Emily’s death was still too fresh; I couldn’t even think of her without crying, but crying now would only make Mulder worry more than I already knew that he had been. Rubbing my eyes and regaining my composure, I stared out of the passenger window at the attractions posted for the next exit.

“Scully?” Mulder tried to regain my attention. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing.” I said too quietly and cleared my throat. “Like I said, it was just a panic attack. And, quite frankly, your insistence of it being something more–specifically an entity, leads me to believe that there is something about this case that you’re not telling me.” Mulder was quiet for a moment and readjusted his hands on the wheel. “Mulder…” I prompted and he sighed.

“Okay, here’s another horror movie, but this one inspired by true events.” He started, and I cut in: “Inspired meaning that creative liberties were taken–meaning it’s not real.” I clarified and Mulder rolled his eyes.

“Then let’s just focus on the case itself.” He raised an eyebrow and continued once I nodded in return. “November 1974, a twenty-three year old man walks through his parents house with his rifle, killing not only his parents, but also his four younger siblings while they slept. He claimed that he was told by voices to kill his family.” Mulder stole a glimpse at me. 

“Robert DeFoe, Jr. was mentally unsound.” Sighing, I rested my head against the rest as I watched him: his right arm gripping the wheel while his left was propped on the door. “And I shouldn’t have to remind you that there was no validity in those claims. They are the ravings of a mad man, who murdered his family and no doubt saw an out in pleading insanity. Anything more than that is just sensationalism.”

“And what about the family that moved in afterward? Their reports of disembodied voices and dark figures, cold spots and foul odors, physical attacks by unseen forces.” He gestured with his hand.

“Mulder, a book and film franchise spun from it. They cashed in.” I doubled down with a laugh.

“Scully, there are numerous cases of similar occurrences with the same key elements–all over the world.” He gestured across the windshield. “A family in West Pittston, Pennsylvania, also reported a series of disturbing events in their home: a dark, shadowy figure that would manifest as a black cloud or mist, foul odors, oppressive feelings, and physical attacks. The same for New York, Tennessee, Ohio… I could go on and on.”

“I know you could.” I teased him.

A small smile played on his lips as he shot a side eye in my direction. “The same incidents and more have been reported here, spanning back to the 1800s. So, you’re telling me that you believe all of these experiences are fabricated?”

“I believe that people can convince themselves of anything. And that some are more easily influenced than others.” Mulder gave me a pointed look and I added: “Influences that could be attributed to mental illness, sleep deprivation, stress–or even suggestion.”

“But, isn’t the influence the point, Scully? Whether it’s tangible or a fabrication of the mind is irrelevant.” Mulder smiled. “Something influenced Robert Defeo, Jr to murder his entire family–maybe it was his mental or emotional state, or maybe something told him to. It’s the “why”. We don’t have to prove that it exists, only that the influence was present to affect the behavior.”

The car fell silent again, the both of us watching the ever winding curves in the stretch ahead. Like so many of our discussions, we had found ourselves returning to our previous conversation; in this case, we were suddenly back in the bath that we’d shared last night, reflecting on the old man and duality–light and darkness, good and evil. There were two sides to everything–one couldn’t exist without the other, without balance there would be chaos. But, with what was considered real, proven true could always be found wrong, an incorrect interpretation–a change in rules, theories. How could I believe my own visions and religious experiences while denying the existence of everything else?

Black clouds, foul odors, oppressive feelings, physical attacks… It was all too close to what I had experienced alone in the forest. The taste of rot in my mouth, the unnatural darkness, the crushing weight that seemed to hold me. I fired my weapon. Regardless of if it was real or just my imagination, I had a reaction to it. I was influenced, whether I was ready to accept that or not, was an entirely different story.

The remainder of the drive to the University Medical Center passed smoothly.

Mulder found a place close to the Emergency entrance. The parking lot was nearing capacity, no doubt a combination of patients from the prior night and the morning and afternoon rush, as to be expected of a summer tourist destination; the medical team inside could be dealing with anything from dislocated joints and stitches to intricate procedures–working as clinically as I was for answers and solutions. 

As Mulder pulled the keys from the ignition, I reached for the glovebox, taking the tape recorder that I had stowed and passing Mulder the small notepad and pen. We adjusted ourselves: Mulder shoving the palm-sized notepad and pen into his pocket and dropping his sunglasses on the dashboard; pulling down the visor, I checked my reflection–running a quick hand through my hair and rubbing the creeping exhaustion from my eyes.

“Alright, Scully. Let’s see what we’ve gotten ourselves into.” Mulder winked at me–our eyes locking briefly before we finally left the confines of the car to head inside.

The automatic doors ushered us in; muted color blocks and faux wooden accents greeted us, contrasting sharply with the sterile smell of antiseptic that I usually sought solace in. The routine bustling of the Emergency Department engulfed us, and we quickly sought out the reception desk. It was occupied by two check-in and two discharge administrators mirrored on either side–all of which appeared to be too busy to entertain frivolous requests or questions.

“Excuse me?” I took the lead, catching the attention of one of the women in a crisp, white button down. “Hello. My name is Dr. Dana Scully, I’m with the FBI. This is my partner, Agent Mulder. We’re looking for two young women who were admitted earlier this afternoon: Annie Petersen and Mary-Ellen Joyce, as well as the body of a young man named Nathan Harris. Could you direct us to where we might find them?”

The woman whose name badge read, Carol, took a moment to survey us, her eyes squinting as they lingered over our casual appearance: t-shirts, joggers, and tennis shoes–prompting us to flash our badges in unison. “It’s our day off.” Mulder added with a disarming smile, sliding his badge back into his pocket. Carol nodded, scanning Mulder once more before turning to check her computer and a nearby stack of files.

“ ...The U.S. District Judge Richard Matsch described the crime as a “crime against the Constitution of the United States… ” The news reverberated from the television posted in the waiting area–half occupied with patients. I followed Mulder’s eyes to the screen where Terry Nichols, co-conspirator of the Oklahoma City bombing, was being escorted from the courthouse in a bulletproof vest, shielded by guards and crowded by reporters.

“Come through the door, please. Ms. Joyce is still in surgery, but I can show you to Ms. Petersen’s room and to the Morgue.” Carol pulled back our attention, pressing a button to swing open the heavy set of doors.

“Thank you.” I nodded, rounding the desk as Mulder followed closely behind. We met Carol on the other side and she led us through sterile corridors: the buzzing of fluorescent lights; the hushed voices, television murmurs, and muted laughter; and the beeping machines highlighting the doorways that we crossed along our path. All hospitals felt the same now; they had the same general layout, smells and sounds, the only difference being the revolving faces of patients and staff. 

Mulder’s arm brushed against mine as he fell in step beside me, and I cleared my throat: “You mentioned that Ms. Joyce is in surgery. Could you tell me what the extent of her injuries are and what procedures are being done?” I asked Carol as she stopped in front of a closed door.

She turned to face us. "I’m not exactly sure, but someone at the nurses’ station should be able to help you. They can also point you in the direction of the morgue if you want some time to speak to Ms. Petersen." Carol told us, nodding toward the door. "She was resting, but may be up to speaking now."

"Thank you." I said, offering a polite smile. Carol nodded and retraced our steps back down the hallway, leaving us alone.

Mulder and I exchanged a quick look as his hand raised to lightly knock on and gently push open the door. The room was small and windowless, as expected for a temporary stay. Annie lay on the bed, her face pale against the white sheets as she slumped upright; her brown hair seemed darker, falling around her shoulders and matted with blood, like her skin, which was still stained pink despite the obvious attempts at scrubbing. Annie’s wounds had been dressed and bandaged, her ankle wrapped and elevated, and her bloody clothes had been traded for ill-fitting scrubs. 

Her big brown eyes focused on us as we entered the room–eyes that were once filled with life were reduced to dark, hollow sockets in her colorless face. My heart sank and I quickly sucked in a breath against the heat rising to my face. This was no longer the girl from the bar bathroom, whose biggest concern was a recent breakup; she had been transformed, and her previous light dulled into an emptiness that seemed to consume us and the room entirely.

 "Hi Annie. I’m Dr. Dana Scully, and this is Agent Mulder." I softly broke the rhythmic beeping of the monitor as I approached the bed. "Do you remember us?"

She weakly nodded, her eyes flickering between us as she rested back against the pillows. "Yes. I remember you."

“How are you feeling, Annie?” I asked, stopping at the foot of her bed to examine her chart as I moved to sit in the chair beside her. It was clear from her chart that adrenaline and stress were major factors in her elevated levels.

Annie’s bottom lip quivered as tears welled up in her eyes; her hand immediately shielded her face as she cried. I gently touched her shoulder, my eyes catching Mulder’s before Annie managed to rub her eyes and wipe her pink, blotchy face. “I’m sorry.” Annie sniffled, running her hands over her face again. “I’m sorry. I just can’t believe this is happening. I can’t believe that Nathan…” She trailed off, another round of sobs breaking through.

I grabbed the box of tissues from the side table and placed them beside her. “Annie, I can only imagine how difficult this must all be for you.” I paused as she grabbed a handful to blow her nose. "I know that it might be hard to talk about right now, but we need to ask you a few questions about what happened. Can you tell us anything you remember from last night?"

Annie swallowed hard and blew her nose again, her voice barely above a whisper. "No… I mean, I don’t know. We just set up camp by the lake. Everything was normal…”

“What do you remember about setting up camp?” Mulder stepped closer to the foot of the bed.

Annie looked up at him, her mind seeming to rehash the pieces. “Hmm… I don’t know. It was Nathan’s idea because he heard that the lake was haunted or something. He thought it’d be fun to scare us by making us sleep out there. He was such a dick sometimes.” Her eyes doubled in size. “Oh my god, can I say that? Or, are you going to think that I killed him?”

“Did you kill him?” Mulder wasted no time interjecting.

“Of course not!” Annie sat up straighter, staring at him.

Mulder nodded, his cool never faltering. “It was kind of a trek to get there. Did you happen to notice or hear anything–or anyone along the way?” He continued to question.

Annie’s eyebrows drew in. “No…?” She paused. “I mean, Nathan was trying to scare us.”

“How so?” I asked, studying her face as her eyes moved back to mine.

She shrugged. “I don’t know. Like rustling bushes or sneaking around the tree line when he was supposed to be getting firewood. Making weird noises, I guess.”

“You saw and heard him do these things specifically?” I asked for clarification.

“Well, yeah. Who else could it be?” Annie focused on me. “He was just messing around. I remember getting annoyed and going into the woods after him. And I thought that I saw him in front of me, but it was too dark.”

“And did you find him?” Mulder urged her to continue.

She nodded. “Yeah. He came up behind me and I almost jumped out of my skin.”

“Behind you?” I repeated, and Annie nodded.

“And did you return to camp then?” Mulder wondered.

Annie turned her attention back to me. Something flickered in her eyes–fear or shame. “What is it Annie?” I touched her hand, unable to place it. “It’s okay.”

She looked down at the bed, a few tears dropping from her eyes. Mulder and I exchanged an understanding glance. “How long until you made it back to camp?” Mulder shifted his line of questioning.

“Not long. Maybe ten minutes.” Annie lifted her head again.

“And then what happened?” I studied her.

Annie shrugged, sniffling again. “Nothing. We went back to camp, all had another drink, and went to sleep. Then I woke up in the woods… and there was just so much blood… and I was alone.”

I nodded. "Do you remember seeing or hearing anything unusual before you woke up?"

Annie shook her head. “No. Trees, I guess.” 

I nodded, gently touching Annie's arm as I stood back up. "Thank you, Annie. You've been very brave through all of this. Try to get some rest."

Annie managed a small, grateful smile. "Thank you."

Mulder followed closely behind me as we left Annie's room, his expression pensive. "A love triangle in the Bennington Triangle. Is an evil entity or a little green monster to blame?”

I let out a sigh. “A love affair is hardly a crime.”

“A crime of passion.” Mulder smirked, leaning towards me. “Come on, you discover that your friend is collecting your boyfriend's firewood while on a secluded camping trip? Something happened out there between the three of them.”

“Or, the realization that the affair isn’t as good as the relationship.” I countered, looking up at him. “Nathan and Annie could have ended things quietly and amicably.”

“Except Nathan’s dead. Carved out like a pinata.” Mulder countered. “And now, we’ve got two girls in the hospital with a very clear motive.”

I lifted a hand, gesturing for him to pause. "But, neither one of them is physically strong enough to inflict that degree of violence against Nathan, Mulder.”

He lightly shrugged his shoulders. “They might if they were influenced.” 

Rolling my eyes, I reeled him in again. “Let’s examine the evidence and Nathan's body first before we jump to conclusions. Okay?” 

“Okay.” Mulder nodded, leaning in again. “But, you heard the same thing that I did, Scully. They did encounter something in those woods, and I don’t mean little Nathan.”

I crossed my arms over my chest. “They’d been drinking and it was dark. The mind can play tricks under those circumstances.” 

Mulder flicked my chin and winked at me. “You know that I’m right.”

“We don’t know anything yet.” I sighed, looking up at him.

Mulder gestured ahead of us. “Then, lead the way, Doc. Let’s see what Nathan can tell us from the great beyond.”

A nurse walked us down to the morgue. Like the rest of the hospital, the morgue was just as routine; another cold, sterile room with a somber atmosphere. The attending physician, Dr. Whitney met us at the entrance - an older man with balding gray hair and a kind face. There was a young technician, Lauren Baker, who provided a brief tour and directed me to the prepping area. After scrubbing and donning myself in PPE, I returned to the main room where Dr. Whitney and Ms. Baker had set up Nathan on the autopsy table, along with all of the necessary tools. I reviewed his chart, confirming his identity as Nathan James Harris - born July 15, 1977, and a student at Pennsylvania State University. A copy of his license was included, the photo far from his current state.

Mulder watched silently as I focused, shifting entirely to the task at hand. "I'll now perform the autopsy." I said, my voice steady as I clicked on the tape recorder. I approached the stainless steel table where Nathan's body lay covered by a white sheet. Taking a deep breath, I pulled it back, revealing the horrific injuries. "Let's begin." I murmured to myself, a ritualistic phrase that always helped me center my thoughts.

I found Dr. Whitney and Ms. Baker to be helpful during my initial external examination, taking photos and measurements. Nathan’s body was that of a young, athletic male in his early twenties; six-foot-two, roughly 185 pounds. Not someone to be taken down lightly. His arms and legs were covered in bruises and abrasions, but the most alarming detail was the deep gouges in his palms, as if he had tried to defend himself against something with overwhelming strength. His red hair was matted with blood, and his face was barely recognizable. I methodically recorded every bruise, cut, and abrasion, noting their sizes, locations, and characteristics. 

"The facial injuries are extensive." I said aloud, for everyone’s benefit and my own clarity. "The bruising and lacerations suggest a high level of force. The fractures in the skull..." My mind began compiling possibilities to explain this level of impact. The most unlikely was a human fist, not even a world-class boxer would be able to inflict this amount of damage, especially without shattering their hand in the attempt. Carefully, I palpated the skull, feeling the depressions and irregularities. "It’s almost as if he was struck repeatedly with a heavy object, but there are no repeated patterns or indentations that align." 

Mulder remained quiet, taking his own notes. I moved to Nathan’s torso; the sight was difficult, even for someone with my experience. Leaning over the body with my probe, I carefully inspected the open cavity. "The damage to his internal organs is severe. The liver and spleen are both ruptured. The myocardium exhibits significant blunt force trauma, with crushing injuries evident across the anterior and posterior walls. The lack of lacerations suggests the compression was external but controlled, and the presence of petechial hemorrhages indicates this occurred while the heart was still perfusing blood. The consistent pattern of damage suggests a singular, forceful compression rather than multiple impacts. Death would have been instantaneous, as the ventricles were unable to complete their contraction cycle."

“Maybe this is Autopsies for Dummies, but are you saying that his heart was squeezed?” Mulder questioned, moving a little closer to peer into Nathan’s chest.

Nodding, I gestured to the signs of impact around the muscle. “Well, yes. It seems that we have the cause of death.”

Mulder shook his head, as baffled as I was. “Do you think you could test it?”

“I mean, yes. I was planning to have a few samples tested at the field lab.” I looked at him. “Is there something specific we should be looking for?”

He shrugged, taking a step back. “I don’t know yet. But this body is the best evidence that we have.”

“Of what?” My eyebrows rose as I studied him.

“Chest Bursters.” He said matter-of-factly, still reaching for his entity claim, and returned to his notepad.

Routinely, I removed each organ, examining, weighing, and collecting tissue samples of each before I returned each one to their place and sutured his body. The Lab Assistant rolled Nathan away, wheeling his body back to the refrigerated storage area. I sighed as I removed my gloves and turned to face Mulder.

“Final thoughts, Dr. Scully?” He asked, his arms folded as he closed the space between us.

"Aside from the cause of death, there isn’t much to say until we get the lab results.” I admitted, placing my hands on my hips as I looked up at him. “I hate to say it, Mulder, but we might be dealing with something… anomalous."

Mulder’s lips twitched into a small, knowing smile. "Anomalous, huh? Is that a fancy way of saying this could be something… otherworldly?"

I shot him a pointed look. "I’m saying we’re dealing with something we don’t yet understand. And until we have more information—possibly from Mimi or Annie, or the samples—I’m not ruling anything out."

Mulder nodded, his hands sliding into his pockets. "Well, if Nathan is any testament to the capability of what we’re dealing with, we need to figure it out soon before it strikes again.”

Mulder stepped into the hallway, phone pressed to his ear, his voice a low rhythm beneath the buzzing fluorescent lights and the hum of the morgue’s refrigerators. I finished my notes and shed my PPE, stopping to speak with Dr. Whitney as I signed off on the samples. I handed him my card, ensuring he’d keep me updated when the results came in. Mulder rejoined me then and we left the morgue with a parting nod.

Mulder matched my pace as we followed the signs through the corridors, his hand brushing mine when the hallway narrowed. “The Sheriff’s restricting the park this weekend.” He said, his voice low but clear. “That should buy us some time.”

“Dr. Whitney will call as soon as he has results.” I added, glancing up to meet his eyes. “There’s not much more I can do until then.”

Mulder nodded as we crossed through the Emergency Lobby, now bustling with the evening crowd. “Looks like we’re in for some good old-fashioned detective work, partner.” His tone was light despite the serious set of his expression. His hand lingered at my back as the automatic doors slid open. “We gotta start connecting those dots, right?”

The cool night air replaced the tickle of antiseptic as we traded organized chaos for worldly disorder. It was nightfall now, the autopsy had consumed the remainder of the day. The weight of the case pressed down on us as we drove toward the cabin, the journey marked only by the shifting scenery and a faint hum of music from the radio. The idea of something dark and malevolent lurking in the shadows, capable of such horror, was slowly beginning to gnaw at the edges of my logical mind. I cleared my throat, watching the headlights break through the darkness. “So, what exactly is the story around here?”

Mulder glanced over at me, the corner of his mouth hitching as he refocused on the road. “You want to hear some ghost stories, Scully?”

Rolling my eyes, I folded my arms across my chest. “Just tell me. No funny business.”

He chuckled, casting a quick glance my way. “You’ve heard about the missing persons cases here, but between 1945 and 1950, the disappearances spiked. People blamed a cult for either recruiting hikers or sacrificing them.”

I raised an eyebrow. “Let me guess: black masses, babies on altars?”

“Except no one around here saw Goody Proctor with the devil.” Mulder smirked, readjusting his grip on the wheel. “This place has been crawling with reports of unexplained phenomena for centuries. Not even the local lore can agree on who, or what’s to blame.”

“Like Slipperyskin.” I recalled, tilting my head as I examined his profile.

“Exactly. Just like old Slipperyskin.” He laughed, nodding. “But many of these disappearances can’t just be chalked up to hiking accidents or runaways. I’m talking about zero evidence, Scully–nothing left behind. It’s like these people just vanished into thin air.”

“Maybe they were abducted.” I teased, earning one of his rich laughs.

“You joke, Scully, but that is one theory.”

I sighed, a small smile tugging at my lips. “Of course it is.”

“We’ll keep the aliens in our back pocket for now,” Mulder said with a wink before continuing. “Take Middie Rivers, a hunting guide who disappeared after going ahead of his group. Gone—just like that.” He snapped his fingers for emphasis. “The only thing ever found was a single rifle cartridge that matched his.” He reached instinctively for the sunflower seeds stashed in the side door. “Or Paula Welden, a college student who vanished while hiking the Long Trail. Witnesses all remembered her red parka. Since then, there’ve been sightings—someone, or something, in a red parka roaming the forest.”

I sighed again. “Something as recognizable as a red parka? People are going to run with it—especially college kids.”

“Well, sure,” Mulder said, rolling his eyes as he tipped a few seeds into his mouth. “But then there’s Frieda Langer. She vanished hiking near the Somerset Reservoir with her cousin. Unlike the others, though…” He paused, glancing my way. “They found her body.”

I studied his profile. “What was the condition of the body?”

“Too decomposed to determine a cause of death.” Mulder told me. “And it turned up seven months later—in an area that had already been thoroughly searched.”

“That sounds like foul play,” I replied, tilting my head. “The cousin, a partner, maybe someone she crossed paths with. Definitely premeditated: abduction, captivity, murder. Dumping the body back at the scene? That’s taunting the authorities. A lot of unsubs even join search parties for their victims.”

Mulder smiled. “Should we reopen this forty-eight-year-old cold case, Scully?”

I leaned back in my seat, shaking my head. “I just have a hard time believing it’s unsolvable—at least not without seeing the evidence.”

He flicked my chin with his index finger, the gesture quick but grounding, before returning his hand to the wheel. “We’ll pull the case file when we go to the station, okay?”

“What about recent disappearances?” I asked, turning in my seat to face him.

He glanced over at me. “The last case that garnered attention was about three years ago; two graduate students, Maria Salinas and her boyfriend, Aaron Long, disappeared while hiking on the Long Trail. Neither body has been recovered.” Mulder shifted lanes as the road narrowed to just two. “But people keep going missing. Consistently. Some bodies turn up, but it’s the ones that don’t—the ones we can’t explain—that keep me wondering. What happened to them? Where did they go?”

I stared ahead at the highway as the headlights illuminated the dense trees, shadows curling into the edges of my vision. Tucking my hair behind my ear, I confessed: “I do think there’s something here, Mulder. But without anything solid, I’m forced to defer to… well, I don’t even know what I’m deferring to. And that’s the problem. There’s still so much we don’t know.”

“You’re right, Scully. There is still a lot that we don’t know.” Mulder agreed with a mischievous glint in his eyes. “But, I am interested in reviewing those isolated incidents. Something tells me that they could be a hell of a lot more important in piecing together what’s been causing this than Thompson’s leading on.”

I slightly hesitated before speaking again. “Okay, but if there is a supernatural element, Mulder, then why allow Annie and her friends to be found?”

He shrugged, his gaze fixed on the road ahead. “Maybe they weren’t supposed to be.” His words hung in the air, sending a chill over me. Mulder paused, his voice softening. “I don’t know, Scully. I haven’t figured out the profile of these victims yet—is it just bad luck, or is there something specific about them that makes them susceptible?”

I raised my eyebrows. “To influence?”

“Well, yeah.”

“But, we don’t even know if these other victims were influenced.” I pointed out.

Mulder shrugged. “We don’t know that they weren’t either.” Mulder reached over to take my hand in his, the dashboard lights illuminating his features. “Hey, you’re the one who said this is an X-File. This is me supporting you—for jurisdiction.”

I shook my head, but held his hand between both of mine. “If that’s so, then what do you think would make someone susceptible to this… influence?”

Mulder was quiet for a moment, his expression thoughtful. “Well, entities are often drawn to negative energy and places marked by trauma. That’s why so many are associated with feelings of dread or fear. Those emotions empower them—the stronger the feeling…”

“The stronger the entity.” I finished for him.

“And the stronger the influence.” He added with a nod. “Parapsychologists have documented cases where people experiencing intense negative emotions report an increase in paranormal activity. It suggests a link between emotional states and the presence—or actions—of entities. So, throw a love triangle into a hotspot, and what do you get? Two bodies and a lone gunman with a few bumps and bruises.”

“Annie wasn’t possessed.” I said firmly, giving him a pointed look.

Mulder shrugged with a smirk. “Tomorrow’s a new day, Scully.”

I rolled my eyes, still unconvinced, as we settled into a comfortable silence for the rest of the drive. His hand stayed in mine, a quiet anchor against the unknown.

The clear, starlit sky canopied over the dark landscape of trees, and the cabin stood silently against it. My heavy eyelids fluttered open under Mulder’s light touch, my sleepy eyes finding his in the glow of the dashboard, a silent greeting passing between us; my loose limbs straightened into the leather seat until I trusted my regained consciousness enough to reach for the door handle. I stepped out into the cool summer breeze drifting around me, the calming sounds of nature a reprieve from the day. My eyes closed again, letting it wash over me, and inhaled the night air.

“Scully?” Mulder’s voice was soft and soothing, and I opened my eyes to his in the moonlight. He gently squeezed my chin. “You okay?”

A small smile touched my lips as I looked up at him. I nodded, glancing down at our feet on the pebbled driveway. “Yeah, I’m fine.” 

Mulder lightly pushed my hair away as he cradled my face, bringing my eyes back to his. “We both know that a Scully fine isn’t fine at all.” He smirked, and I laughed a little. “It's this case that’s bothering you.” He said it as a matter of fact, and it was.

I let out a sigh, fully stepping into his arms and resting my head against his chest. Mulder wrapped his arms around me, resting his head atop mine. “I’m sorry. I know that I was the one pushing for this case. It’s just… more than I prepared myself for.” I admitted to him as much as myself. The weight of this case, the condition of the victims–it was everything that I wanted to escape, and that was the hardest part of the job, having to face the brutalization and dehumanization head on and sinking further into the shadows for answers.

Mulder’s hands rubbed soothing circles on my back. “Don’t apologize, Scully. This is what we do. But it’s okay to take a moment to yourself.”

I nodded against his chest, feeling the steady rhythm of his heartbeat. “I know. It’s just the brutality of it. It’s hard to reconcile sometimes.”

“I know.” Mulder kissed the top of my head and my eyes closed against this comfort, allowing me to focus on the heat radiating from his body, the strength in his arms, and the scent of pine that clung to him. One of his hands found my chin, lifting my face to his; our eyes met again. There was a tenderness in his expression that had never seemed to leave, always stitched into his irises and reserved for me. Mulder lifted his face to kiss my forehead, and drew back to study my face. “Come on, let’s go inside. I'll take over doctor duties tonight. Dr. Love is clocking in.”

I smiled up at him with raised eyebrows. “Dr. Love, huh? What’s your specialty?”

Mulder ushered me toward the cabin. “Well, that depends on your diagnosis. I might have to put together a treatment plan for you.”

Laughing, we walked up the steps and into the cabin, the wooden floorboards creaking softly under our feet. Mulder flipped on a light, casting a warm, amber glow around the cozy space–already putting me at ease. I leaned against the arm of the couch for balance as I pulled off my shoes and watched as Mulder moved into the kitchen. Following in his steps, I lifted myself onto the countertop, watching as he reached above the refrigerator to retrieve a bottle of whiskey.

“Found this earlier.” Mulder announced with a small mischievous smile, bringing down two glasses and pouring a generous amount into each.

“Is Dr. Love trying to get me drunk?” I teased as he handed me a glass. I gratefully accepted it, feeling the cool weight of crystal in my hand. 

Mulder gave me a pointed look over his glass as he took a drink, resurrecting the butterflies in my stomach. “I don’t have to get you drunk, Scully.”

I took a sip against the smirk forming on my lips, letting the warmth spread through me while our eyes remained locked. Mulder placed his glass on the counter beside me and rested his hands on my thighs, studying me as I took another sip to calm my growing nerves. He nodded towards my glass once I finally removed it from my lips. “Like it?” He asked, tilting his head slightly.

I nodded. “It’s good. Smoky.”

He nodded, his teeth briefly pressing into his bottom lip. “Another?”

I laughed, shaking my head. “No. I think that I’ll take a shower.”

“Sure.” Mulder’s hands found my hips, helping me down from my perch. His touch lingered and the heat returned to my face. A smirk was already threatening his lips as he reached for his glass on the counter and took a quick sip before stepping back to provide a small space between us. “Well, let me know if you need help with the shower. Sometimes those things can be confusing.”

“Ah…” I nodded with a smirk. “Is that so?”

“Oh yeah.” His eyebrows furrowed together. “But, I’m here to lend a helping hand–wash your back, your hair… I’m really a full-service, um, service.”

I laughed and nodded, touching his abdomen as I passed him. “I’ll let you know if your expertise is required.”

“Just holler. I’ll be right in here.” Mulder called behind me as I walked towards the bedroom. 

“Got it.” I gave him a final wink before crossing the threshold.

I twisted the faucet, bringing the shower to life, and tested the water with my hand–adjusting it for the right amount of heat before undressing and neatly placing my clothes aside. The mirror called my attention as I caught a glimpse of myself: my red hair hung limply above my shoulders and my skin seemed pale and dull against it, even the bags under my eyes were more pronounced than they had been this morning. I looked exactly as expected for the day that I had.

As light strands of steam began licking the corners of the glass, I stepped under the warm cascade. I lifted my face to the stream, rinsing away the sweat and grime. Turning my back against the water, I ran my hands across my face and through my hair–forcing my mind to focus on the task at hand instead of drifting back to the case again. Clearing the water from my eyes, I reached for the shampoo, pouring a generous amount into my palm. 

Despite the heat and floral scent grounding me, or the swelling lather forming between my fingers and scalp, Donnie lay dormant, a lingering hum waiting to foghorn, and I ignored him too. It was too easy for him to resurface, in a feeling–unprompted by anything specific, or during what was meant to be a mundane action, like washing my hands or my hair. But it had gotten better, I was so close to forgetting him, and now, here he was again–in the wake of Emily, clawing his way into this case. Donnie was now more than a man, he was the personification of all of my fears, grief–representative of my own mortality and the embodiment of evil, all evil. But Donnie was just a man: a man that Mulder had outsmarted to find me, a man who was imprisoned by steel and concrete. And I needed to be here, present in this little piece of untainted serenity.

I wrapped the large, fluffy towel around myself–a renewed sense of rejuvenation clinging to its warmth. Thick wafts of steam circulated through the bathroom, drifting into the rest of the cabin, and I flicked on the ventilation fan as I dried off. Moving between the bathroom and bedroom, I finally dressed comfortably in socks and an oversized t-shirt that I had stolen from among Mulder’s things. A faint melody seeped into the room, and I turned off the fan to hear the slow and steady rhythm.

My feet followed the sound back to the front of the cabin, where Mulder’s long limbs stretched across the couch: he reclined against the small stack of pillows, his glasses resting on his nose as his pen dragged precisely across the notepad propped on his leg; on the shaggy rug, that was the centerpiece of the room, were three books–presumably from the bookcase, and his whisky glass from earlier. A record spun on the player in the corner.

Mulder’s eyes slid up from the page to take me in, his hand still moving to finish his thought. “You know, Scully, if you keep stealing my shirts, I might have to start taxing you.” He teased, drawing up his other leg to make room for me.

“Taxes? What kind of practice are you running here, Dr. Love?” I raised an eyebrow as I occupied the vacancy, tucking my legs under myself and sinking into the cool, plush leather. 

Mulder chuckled, bringing his penned hand to his chin with a loose shrug. “Healthcare ain’t free, Scully.”

“Right.” I slowly nodded, touching where the shirt's hem fell across my thigh. “Or, maybe I should just take it off? Avoid the fine.”

Mulder smiled, studying me from the other end of the lived-in couch. “I might have to think on that one.” 

“Well, let me know when you make up your mind.” I attempted to bite back my smirk by sighing. “What are you writing?” I asked and nodded towards the notepad as I shifted the conversation. 

Mulder sat up then, dropping the pad and pen on the floor and moving closer. He gravitated to the center of the couch and gestured from me to stretch my legs across his lap. He shrugged as I did, his hands gently rubbing over my shins. “I was just going back over the case. How was your shower?”

I rested my head back against the arm of the couch, scooting down further–thighs on top of his. “It was nice. Needed.” I sighed and Mulder grabbed a pillow from his side of the couch to place behind me. “Any breakthroughs?” I wondered, studying his face as he studied mine.

“No, not yet.” Mulder shook his head, his hands moving further up my legs. “These missing dots are driving me crazy. I’m starting to feel like you.” He teased with a smile. 

I laughed, reaching out to place my hand over one of his; Mulder turned his hand to intertwine our fingers. “We’ll go to the hospital after the Sheriff’s Office–see if we can get an update on Mimi’s status.”

Mulder kissed the back of my hand while his other hand settled between my thighs–my heart skipping a beat. “And if there’s anything else Annie remembers.” He included into our agenda, his hand casually moving up my thigh causing my muscles to clinch, making him smile at me

“Sounds like a plan.” I nodded, slightly breathless.

He gave my thigh a gentle squeeze and removed his glasses, placing them on the back of the couch. “I think that I’ll take my chances in the shower now.”

“I hope that you can figure it out.” I smirked and he laughed–nodding as he got up, his hand lightly touching my hair as he passed, disappearing into the back cabin.

I listened as he moved around before starting the water; the record made a noise, indicating that it needed to be flipped. Taking the opportunity, I noted the record that we were listening to, inspecting the sleeve. I flipped it and made my way into the kitchen, pouring myself the remainder of the red wine as the next song built into the background.

The piano and bass delicately eased their way into the space, an isolated world branching into areas beyond my current place, frozen and leaning against the counter–a mouthful of merlot gliding just as smoothly over my taste buds and down my throat. The run of scale–complex and beautiful, but understated. It took me a moment to return to the living room, but once I did, I found myself divided between the music and my curiosity; kneeling by the couch, my free hand lifted and scanned the books and their titles that Mulder had pulled, all of which were historical texts about Vermont and the local region. I ignored his notes, knowing that he would reveal their contents when he was ready and sat by the small collection of records instead; carefully reviewing each one, most of which were jazz, like the one playing, the collection also held a few classic soul and country selections. 

I inspected the bookcase filled with classics, poetry, and commercial fiction; moving onto the VHS tapes, there were beloved rom-coms and dramas, along with things that I had never heard of–obscure arthouse types. The owner of the cabin clearly had a knack for cultivating ambiance; unlike the majority of sterile hotel rooms harboring stiff furniture and mass replicas of generic art, or the staged vacation rentals ground in aesthetics over personality. I appreciated that this place felt like we were immersing ourselves into someone else’s home, and that they had attempted to include books and movies that were more generalized to their well crafted collection. In a lot of ways, it was reflective of who Mulder and I were, well crafted and defined by our own standards, but allowing cracks of space for growth and inclusion.

I settled in front of the couch with my legs drawn to my chest, leaning against the frame as I sipped from my glass and silently listened to the record's progression. 

Mulder’s plaid clad legs came into view and I looked up to see his face. His dark hair was still moist, laying flat against his scalp. “Hi.” I greeted, attempting to ignore the skip in my heartbeat.

“Hi.” Mulder smiled, shrinking down to my eye level as he sat in front of me.

Mulder’s hands found my legs again, running over my calves, and I returned the glass to my lips at the flutter in my stomach. “How was your shower?” I finally asked, my tongue brushing the sweetness from my lips. 

His eyes lingered on my mouth then to the deep glass of wine in my hand and nodded. “It was good.”

I returned his nod. “Good.”

Our eyes locked in silent acknowledgement of our privacy and the freedom that came with it. There were no other distractions nor pretenses that needed to be upheld, nothing that could come between us tonight. Despite the similar nights that preceded this one, I could never seem to relieve myself of the natural flood of nerves that came with being close to him; this was still new territory for the both of us, and everything that I had worked so hard to suppress was now bubbling to the surface at once.

I cleared my throat, placing my glass on the ground next to me. “This record is nice.” I quickly complimented.

“Yeah. It's nice.” Mulder smiled as he settled in closer, his body positioned casually between my legs. My heart pounded loudly in my ears, nearly deafening me. “We should eat something.” Mulder pointed out, resting his warm hands on my knees.

My stomach gurgled in response, and I covered my face with my hands. “God, you’re right. I completely forgot.”

“Yeah, we both did.” Mulder’s tone was light, teasing as I felt his hands slide down my thighs and under the t-shirts border to hold my hips. Another flush heated my body as I slowly moved my hands away from my face to look at him, his eyes temporarily fixed on the sight of my body inside his grasp. “I saw a few menus in the kitchen. We can order in.” His eyes returned to mine, his voice steady and calm as his thumbs grazed over my hip bones.

“Okay.” I managed to say despite the fire coursing through my veins. Dragging my tongue over my dry lips, I grabbed my wine glass and took a sip. 

Mulder’s eyes watched my mouth while his hands drifted further up my shirt to cradle my waist, sending a wave of tingles throughout my body. “What do you have a taste for?” 

My heart jumped into my throat and I forced myself to swallow another sip of wine. I just shrugged, not trusting my voice or ability to formulate a complete thought. Mulder’s eyes roamed my face, but I could only focus on his hands and regulate my breathing. “Pizza? Chinese?” He asked, raising his eyebrows. “Beans and eggs?”

I nodded. “Okay.”

A slow smile spread across his face, amusement dancing in his eyes. “You might need to slow down on that wine, Scully.”

I laughed a little, and placed the glass back on the floor. “You’re right.”

Mulder’s grip tightened slightly as he shifted me onto his lap, my knees pressing into the soft rug on either side of his body. Our faces were close, mine an inch to two above his as I straddled his frame; Mulder’s hands caressed the bare skin of my back, ensuring no space was able to pass between us as his lips delicately trailed my throat. My thighs clenched around him as a haze seemed to cloud my mind at the feeling of his warm breath across my skin. “I’ll order Chinese.” His voice was low as he tilted his head back to look at me. I nodded again.

Mulder lifted us slightly, rising to his knees and leaning forward to place me on the couch. I perched on the edge of the cushion, my toes curling into the rug–Mulder’s solid frame still positioned purposefully against me. A smirk played on his lips at the hitch in my breathing and he slightly stood so that he could lean into me–my body falling back into the plush leather as Mulder lowered his lips to mine. Our kiss was deep and sensual, reviving me like a soothing balm over the wounds of our day; his lips were soft and warm with the lingering taste of mint on his tongue, and my arms locked around his neck, pulling him closer. My legs followed suit, pulling him down until he perfectly laid on top of me.

Mulder broke our kiss to speak, but I shook my head, pressing my mouth back to his. “We have food.” I finally said, feeling him smile against my mouth as we settled into the couch.

Chapter Text

SATURDAY

A jolt coursed through my body, forcing my eyes to meet the lingering darkness of the bedroom. Breaking dawn cast an eerie glow through the thin curtains framing the window, and I blinked away the sleep clouding my vision, watching as the dancing shadows along the edge of the ceiling solidified into practical shapes. Mulder’s breath warmed my shoulder, his mind still adrift on another plane. Carefully lifting his arm from its place around my waist, I slipped out of the warm tangled sheets; my bare feet met the cool hardwood and a small shiver tightened my limbs as my body connected with the air conditioning. I scanned the floor as I rounded the bed in the darkness, searching for something to cover myself with, only to remember that our discarded clothes lay abandoned in the living room. Sifting through our bags risked waking Mulder, so I hugged myself and quickly padded into the kitchen first – a minor detour in my journey. 

Remnants of our easy-to-grab “dinner” remained on a plate discarded by the sink: a hodgepodge of leftovers from our initial grocery run. It was a shared meal of necessity as we stood, comfortably exposed, with a large glass of water passing between us. Mulder would have been satisfied with the noncommittal act of grazing in front of an open fridge, the equivalent of drinking from the carton (another action he lacked issue with), but obliged to plate our rampage. 

I grabbed the coffee pot and filled the tank with water, the rich scent of the grounds brushing my nose rationing the appropriate amount. The machine’s light flickered on, starting the brew, and I moved on to clear the plate — dumping scraps into the garbage and washing the few dishes we had accumulated. As I dried my hands on the floral patterned dish towel, I took a moment to admire the view from the window above the sink; the early morning light casting a light blue haze over the serene scene. It was just as peaceful as the day that we arrived with only a gentle breeze to stir the few fallen leaves, as though yesterday was only a dream and that this was the first true morning of our weekend together.

A heavy thump reverberated throughout the cabin. My limbs stiffened with a sudden flow of ice through my veins. I was suddenly aware of my nakedness again and the fact that our weapons were on the bedroom dresser. There was another loud thump that coincided with a whistle of wind. I slowly crept into the living room, finding the front door ajar - slamming into the frame with each momentary breeze. I replayed the events of the previous night: I walked into the house ahead of Mulder, and I remembered hearing the click of the lock before taking off my shoes.

With caution, I walked towards the door and extended a hand, pressing against the thick wood until it shut. My eyebrows drew together as I tried to remember if Mulder had gone outside at any point during the night, but came up short. I flipped the lock - an audible click sounding. 

I couldn’t shake the uneasiness that settled in my stomach. I leaned over the couch, grabbing my shirt from the mess of pillows and other clothing, and pulled it on. My eyes returned to the door, confirming that I had secured it before walking back through the bedroom. Mulder was still fast asleep as I passed him on my route to the bathroom, lying on his front with his face half buried in his pillow. I lightly closed the door behind me before flipping on the light switch. 

Pins shot down my spine as I jumped at my reflection. The face that I was expecting– my face–had been reduced to a concave of tissue, blood, and bone. The scent of decay accompanied the wet bits of flesh that slid from my fractured jaw bone, each chunk slapping loudly against the porcelain sink. The slow churning sound of meat echoed throughout the bathroom as chunks of clumped flesh continued to fall away. But just as quick as the image appeared, it was gone - my wide eyed expression in its wake.

Gripping the sink with both hands, I stared down the drain. I had to remind myself that this wasn’t the worst case that I had worked on - I had faced and survived worse, and I would survive this. Desk duty had just softened the hardened edge that I had worked so vigorously to obtain. 

Just get it together, Dana.

I looked up at the mirror again, my normal features still intact, but now marked by blood dripping from my nose. I sighed, spinning the toilet paper roll for a few sheets and holding the bundle to the leaky nostril. I shook my head against the ridiculous series of events, giving it a final thought before moving on with my morning routine.

When I opened the door again, Mulder was rolling onto his back, he stretched his long, lean limbs and smiled when he saw me. “Good morning.” His voice heavy with sleep as he extended an arm to me.

“Good morning.” I greeted, taking his hand and allowing him to pull me back to bed. I nestled into his embrace, tucking myself under his chin and against the warmth of his chest as one of his hands stroked my hair and the other offered soothing rubs. The comforting smell of coffee drifted through the cabin.

Mulder kissed the top of my head, and we stayed like this, slowly restoring my sense of order and security. His voice was low, but more alert when he spoke again - light vibrations soothing me further. “What’s wrong?”

I tilted my head back to see his face, streaks of golden light replaced the blue hues and highlighted his gentle expression as he studied me, waiting. “Nothing. It’s just been an… off morning.” I let out a sigh and ran a hand across my face. When I met his eyes again, it was clear that he was still waiting. I knew how he would react, and this brief moment of bliss that I had finally gotten back to would take a backseat while our day would rocket ahead. “Did you go out last night?” I eased in.

Mulder’s eyebrows knitted in suspicion. “Did I go out? No. Why?”

I knew that he hadn’t, which only confirmed what I suspected. “The front door was open,” I finally said, feeling his body tense against mine.

Mulder sat up, his shirtless body more prominent than it needed to be from my current angle, causing me to mimic his position. “Why didn’t you wake me?” He questioned me, his voice firm and leveled.

“Wake you for what, Mulder? You probably just forgot to lock the door. I doubt that anyone was lurking around.”

Mulder threw a pointed look my way as he got out of bed. Shaking his head, he pulled on his boxers and grabbed his weapon from the dresser - only pausing to check his clip.

“Mulder…” I called after him when he crossed the threshold, disappearing into the cabin. I sighed, getting up and taking my own weapon as I followed him.

I heard the front door unlatch and by the time that I made my way into the living room, he was already outside. I stopped to shove my bare feet into my tennis shoes and continued to trail him. Raising a hand, I shielded my eyes against the sudden brightness as I quickly made my way down the front steps. My eyes scanned the area in front of the house and down the stone drive that blended into the pathway, aligned by lush green trees and a short perimeter gate. Nothing seemed out of place. A gentle breeze carrying the scent of pine and citrus caressed my skin and blew through the trees, the sounds of nature surrounding us.

Rounding the side of the house, Mulder moved out of my line of vision as he disappeared around the back. “Mulder?” I called for him again, continuing to take in our surroundings as I walked briskly to catch up—mindful of the oversized shirt grazing my upper thighs.

As I stepped into the backyard, Mulder’s shadow disappeared on the other side of the house. The sun shone brightly upon the garden beds near the back of the house; blooms of daylilies, peonies, and columbines mingled with the budding bleeding hearts and phlox. Between them, a pair of double doors rose from the ground, likely leading down to a basement. The padlock fastened over the flip ensured that no one would find out. 

“All I’d need is 60 seconds and a sledgehammer.” Mulder said as he walked up casually, his demeanor less tense as he stopped beside me.

I looked up at him. “That’s a bit much, don’t you think?”

He shrugged, his eyes still scanning around us. “I think that given the circumstances, I’d rather overreact than take any risks.” Mulder’s eyes fixed on mine again.

Slowly nodding, I studied him. “Did you find anything?”

“No. But that doesn’t mean that something wasn’t here.” He nudged his chin towards the trees threatening to spill over the perimeter.

“It doesn’t mean that something was.” I countered with a sigh, touching his waist as I walked around him to head back towards the front of the house. I glanced back at him over my shoulder, holding out my free hand. “Come on. I made coffee.”

Mulder took it, easily falling in line with my stride. I could tell that he was restless, and he could tell that I was too, despite my efforts to conceal it. Hot gulps of coffee spliced into our morning routine, embedding themselves between quick showers and fastening the buttons on shirts that we only planned to wear at dinners and nice outings, and into the cracks of conversation that would lead back to the case. It was an intentional avoidance: I needed more evidence while Mulder’s urge to stockpile more information about this town and its occurrences left him antsy. His reaction to the door made me hesitate to mention the mirror, not because I didn’t trust him, but because for one, I was sure that it was just a stress response to this case, and two, it would only work him up more than he already was.

Once we finally set off into town, I could hardly keep my eyes open from all of the morning's activities. Mulder lightly touched my cheek and I opened my eyes to see his, straightening up against the leather seat. Quickly looking around, I saw that we were parked outside of the police station.

“That was fast.” I smirked at him and covered my mouth as I yawned.

He smiled, pulling the keys from the ignition. “I didn’t stop for pedestrians.”

Rolling my eyes, I got out of the car and scanned our surroundings. We were back near the city center, the sidewalks harboring light traffic from the cooler weather. The Sheriff’s Department was a simple, beige concrete building with similar steps leading up to a set of large glass doors, framed by oversized sconces. Mulder opened the door for me and we both crossed the threshold - instantly met by the buzz of fluorescents and the shrill of the office phone. A young officer occupied the desk, holding up a finger to us as he jotted down notes from the phone pressed against his ear. We waited for him to hang up, and once he did, looking at us expectedly, we flashed our badges.

“Is Sheriff Thompson in?” Mulder leaned against the tall desk.

“Hold on.” The young man instructed, getting up and disappearing into the office.

Mulder and I glanced around the lobby, all wooden chairs, linoleum, and commercial art. After a second, the young man returned with Sheriff Thompson on his heels. “Agents.” He nonchalantly greeted us, his hand immediately resting on his belt.

“Good morning, Sheriff.” Mulder and I nodded in unison.

He looked between us. “I assume that you want to discuss the case.”

“Yes, and we’re also interested in reviewing the files of similar cases.” I spoke for us, sensing that the Sheriff had a stronger tolerance for me than Mulder.

“Dr. Scully, you’ll have to be more specific about what it is that you’re looking for.” Thompson casually shifted his stance as he studied me, the line between his thick eyebrows relaxing.

“What about those isolated incidents that you mentioned?” Mulder suggested, resting a hand on the desk. Thompson's eyes moved from mine to Mulder’s, the crease returning. “Around or involving the Green Mountains, or other local forestry areas. Specifically those resulting in unexplained disappearances or violent murders.”

The Sheriff exhaled through his nose and I tacked on: “A room would be nice for us to review them, if you don’t mind.” I politely smiled.

Thompson studied me before his eyes moved back to Mulder; he turned back to the young officer. “Harlan, get them situated in a room.” He instructed, refocusing his attention on me. “I’ll be in shortly with a few files.”

“The more, the merrier, Sheriff. We have all day.” Mulder smiled at him.

Thompson grunted as he walked back towards the office area. Harlan stood up, ready to direct us. He led us to a small conference room near the back of the building; Mulder and I sat across from each other, and Harlan vanished, promising to return with water and coffee.

Mulder reclined in the worn office chair - folding his hands over his abdomen. “Get comfortable, Scully. We might be in for a long day.” He cautioned as he rocked back and forth.

I crossed my legs, my hands mimicking his. “It’ll be even longer if you don’t play nice.”

Mulder laughed, leaning towards me. “I’m always nice.”

I gave him a pointed look, a smirk playing on my lips. “You’re always stubborn.”

He nudged his chin in my direction as he relaxed back in his seat. “Don’t worry, mom. I’ll be a good boy.”

Harlan returned with three bottles of water in one hand and a single coffee in the other; he moved with a careful sense of urgency, setting the mug in front of me and a bottle of water next to it. “Sorry, it’s just black. I didn’t know how you’d take it.” He apologized, placing a bottle of water by Mulder.

“Black is fine. Thank you, Harlan.” I assured with a soft smile. 

Harlan supplied a curt nod and put down the last water at the head of the table. Mulder smirked at me as he untwisted the plastic bottle cap and took a sip of water.

Suppressing my eyeroll, I tasted the coffee, which was as expected from a Sheriff’s office.

Thompson sauntered in with two mugs, straight faced as he set one in front of Mulder before sitting between us at the head of the table with his own. “Thanks, Sheriff.” Mulder interlaced his fingers and placed them on the rough, faded wood.

“Don’t mention it.” Thompson cleared his throat, straightening in his seat. “Our admin is bringing the files.” There was a short beat. “So,” He took a drink from his mug. “Updates?”

I straightened as well, moving closer to the table before focusing on the Sheriff. “We spoke with Annie again yesterday. She couldn’t provide a detailed account of what happened, unsurprisingly, but prefaced that she, Mimi, and Nathan decided to go camping in that particular location because of the associated lore.” I began.

Thompson shrugged. “Most do. But usually they return unharmed.”

“If they return, right, Sheriff?” Mulder lifted an eyebrow. The line between Thompson’s deepened as he looked at Mulder. “The truth of the matter is that you can only account for the safety of those that you’re aware of, and from what I’ve seen, there isn’t a guard posted at every point of entry to monitor who’s going in and if they’re coming out. But you are notified if someone is reported missing or a body has been found.”

“Is there something that you’re trying to say, Agent Mulder?”

“Well, Sheriff Thompson, if anything, I’m saying that whatever is happening out there is beyond your control. We’re not here to discredit any of your previous investigations, we’re just reviewing them from an alternate perspective for any possible connections to this current case.” Mulder paused as the door opened and in walked a petite older woman with gray-streaked hair and a stack of files balanced in hand.

She placed them at the center of the table with a small thud. “Thanks, Judy.” Thompson cleared his throat, dismissing her. 

Silence followed the click of the shut door. I adjusted myself in my seat again. “Yesterday, I performed Nathan Harris’s autopsy. We’re awaiting the results of his toxicology and tissue samples, but due to the extent of the injuries sustained, the likelihood of a human assailant, or, even, an animal is very slim.” I paused, taking a moment for Thompson to absorb my words. “I concluded that the cause of death was due to external compression applied to the heart.”

Thompson’s eyes fixed on mine then. “Are you telling me that this young man was ripped open and had his heart squeezed to death?”

“Yes, Sheriff.” I confirmed.

“Whatever did this is still out there.” Mulder leaned back in his chair, rocking slightly. “And, I’m willing to bet that if this is the worst that you’ve seen, then it’s far from over.”

Thompson mirrored Mulder’s positioning, an elbow propped on the arm of the chair with his hand covering a portion of his mouth. Mulder and I silently watched as the gears churned in his mind; it was a lot to digest for someone unfamiliar with the unknown and unexplainable. Thompson struck me as a simple man, someone with clearly defined lines that left very little room for interpretation or gray area - uneasily swayed. I could relate. But despite how outlandish we sounded, he couldn’t dispute the evidence or my findings.

Mulder gestured to the files. “Does anything in there sound like this, Sheriff?”

Thompson slowly exhaled as he sat up; his large hands reached for the stack, moving them closer. He pushed his mug to the side for ample space as he began sifting through the folders, scanning each name before dropping two files between us. My eyes met Mulder’s as we each took one. Checking the name (Erin Daniels), I flipped it open - jerking back a little as my eyes reviewed the photos of the young woman’s body; her bones were prominent under her skin, bruises, scratches, and gashes covered her emaciated frame. She lay amongst snow, stones, and dead leaves, her body interrupting the current of icy water in a shallow creek.

“Six years ago, a park ranger called in the discovery of a body.” Thompson's deep voice cut through the quiet sounds of flipping pages. “Erin Daniels, 26, had relocated to the area with her boyfriend only a year or so prior. Statements from their colleagues and neighbors all painted them in a positive light: kind, respectable, and seemingly in love.”

“Seemingly.” I repeated, looking from the file to Thompson. “And the boyfriend?”

“I doubt that he had much of a defense.” Mulder extended his folder towards me and made a gesture to exchange. 

Accepting, I flipped the file open and scanned its contents: a photo in the top left corner depicted a smiling young man posing cheek-to-cheek with a pretty woman, who I recognized as a healthier version of Erin Daniels. The next photo displayed a heavily decomposed body in bed, the discolored sheets beneath a likely result of blood, bodily fluid, and the breakdown of tissue. Greg Sullivan, 30.

“Of course, we first suspected the boyfriend; he hadn’t shown up for work in however many weeks, and no one had seen him around town - open and shut. That is until we entered the home.” Thompson paused to take a drink from his mug. “Mr. Sullivan had been dead in that house for at least two months. Stabbed twenty-seven times. Ms. Daniels’ body was practically still warm in comparison.”

I looked from Mulder to Thompson. “You believe that she killed him?”

Thompson leaned forward, resting his crossed arms on the tabletop. “Twenty-seven times… Well, that seems pretty personal to me. A pure, unadulterated fit of rage.”

“Any indication of why she would do this? Were they fighting, was he cheating, was there a history of domestic violence?” Mulder wondered.

Thompson twisted off the cap of his water bottle, tilting it against his lips. He cleared his throat and leaned back again - rocking slightly in his chair. “It seems that they had a solid public perception. Theories of an unknown assailant surfaced from friends and family: someone broke in and murdered Mr. Sullivan, then held Ms. Daniels hostage before subsequently taking her life too. But nothing ever came from that - no evidence, no trace of anyone else on the premises or bodies.” 

“A psychotic break could be likely; the repression of traumatic experiences have been known to manifest itself through aggressive or violent behavior.” I recalled as I closed the folder and placed it back at the center of the table. “Did she have a history of mental illness?”

“None that we were aware of. No medications or diagnoses. The closest that we were able to get was her coworkers mentioning that she claimed to feel sick about a week before the murder took place.” Thompson informed us.

“She just felt sick?” Mulder questioned. “How so?”

Thompson interlaced his hands on the tabletop. “Apparently after returning from a hiking trip with Mr. Sullivan, Ms. Daniels complained about headaches, nausea, and fatigue.”

Reaching across the table, I grabbed her file again - flipping back to the autopsy notes. There were obvious signs of advanced dehydration and malnutrition reflected in her organs and the appearance of her body, but there was no internal scarring or signs of trauma - no indication of vaginal stress, tearing, or strain, no trace of outside DNA, and a clear toxicology. Cause of death: drowning. “Nothing unusual was reported in the autopsy.” I told them, closing the file again.

Mulder tilted his head, his gears rotating as he looked at me.

“What are you thinking, Mulder?” I studied him across the table.

He looked between me and Thompson. “I think that I’d be able to accept the idea that Ms. Daniels snapped, murdered her boyfriend, and essentially rotted away in the house with him. I’d even be able to accept her returning to the woods to commit suicide. But with the illness, the change in behavior, and the state of her body, there could be a parasitic influence at play. Ms. Daniels could have encountered something during their hike and it latched onto her, likely the same thing responsible for the attack on Nathan and Mimi.”

Thompson exhaled, running a hand through his short salt and pepper hair. “Look, I’ll admit that this case is… unusual, yes. But just for clarity, Agent Mulder, are you suggesting some kind of bug?”

“No, not exactly.” Mulder interlaced his fingers over his abdomen again.

“So, you are suggesting a supernatural element to all of this?” Thompson concluded with a weary nod.

“We have no reason to rule out the possibility.” Mulder met his gaze, leaning back in his own chair. “What other cases did you pull, Sheriff?” 

Thompson picked up the stack of files again, pulling out a few more and placing them between us. “These are mostly disappearances and unidentified victims.”

“And the rest?” I gestured to the remaining folders in front of him.

He hesitated for a moment, looking down at them before meeting my eyes again. “Homicides and a few suicides.”

Mulder held out a hand for them. “I’ll just sort through these, Sheriff - for the sake of time. Scully…” He gestured towards me and I gathered the disappearances and unidentified cases.

“We’ll let you know if we have any other questions, Sheriff. I’m sure that you’re a busy man.” Mulder added in an even tone.

Thompson stood with his empty mug. “You know how to find me.”

“Thanks, Sheriff.” I added as he left the room. 

Mulder’s eyes were already on mine as the door clicked shut. “What do you think, Scully?”

“Of the Sheriff, or the one case that we’ve been able to review?” I lifted an eyebrow, watching as one corner of his mouth ticked up into a half smile.

“This place is surviving off of rations and denial, Scully.” Mulder leaned back in his seat and stretched. “But, both.”

I grabbed the top file and flipped through the pages: Jane Doe, 50 to 60 years of age, found along the Long Trail - cardiac arrest. “I can only make assumptions at this point with the limited evidence provided.”

Mulder laughed a little, looking over a file from his own stack. “Thank you, doctor, for your astute observation. The case is solved.”

I rolled my eyes and leaned forward, moving onto the next case. Unidentified male victim, early forties, found along the Long Trail; his body was discovered partially submerged in a bog. The autopsy revealed multiple fractures and signs of severe internal bleeding. The injuries were inconsistent with a fall or animal attack but no definitive external force was identified. Shutting the folder, I slid it across the table in front of Mulder. “I think that Thompson is the Sheriff in a region that has more… disturbing incidents than typical, and that could be overwhelming for anyone. And he possibly sees our being here as more of a nuisance, if anything.”

Mulder studied the contents of the file carefully before sorting it into a pile and moving on to the next, to which I did the same. Unidentified female, approximately 30 years old; body found at the base of a steep cliff. Cause of death was ruled as blunt force trauma consistent with a fall, and there were no signs of struggle or foul play. The incident was classified as an accidental death, possibly due to a hiking mishap. I placed the file on top of the first Jane Doe’s.

Mulder extended his reviewed file to me. Receiving it, I flipped it open - my eyes quickly scanning its contents. Susan Miller, a 34-year-old local resident, was found dead in her home, brutally stabbed. The investigation led to the arrest of her neighbor, Robert Hastings, who had no prior history of violence but was found covered in blood near the scene. Hastings was initially cooperative but became increasingly erratic and disturbed while in custody. He contended no recollection of the crime or claim of his body, but insisted that Susan had “Angel Eyes” then, on record, quoted 2 Corinthians 11:14–15: “ And no wonder, for even Satan disguises himself as an angel of light. So it is no surprise if his servants also disguise themselves as servants of righteousness. Their end will correspond to their deeds. ” Hastings was transferred to a psychiatric hospital after his mental state deteriorated, where he was found dead in his cell a week later, the cause of death ruled as unexplained. 

Frowning, I met Mulder’s eyes again. “This is a little reminiscent of Ronald DeFoe, Jr. – your Amityville mass murderer. The interference of something otherworldly influencing them is an easy ploy to escape prison. No doubt Mr. Hastings was coerced by someone, but that someone is very real and very much imprisoned.”

“Look at the year, Scully. 1971 – three years before the Amityville murders.” Our eyes locked again. “Twenty-seven times, Erin Daniels stabbed her boyfriend in their home – where she continued to stay with his decomposing corpse for, roughly, sixty days. I would agree that there could have been a psychological break, but I would also postulate that it could be a resulting aftermath of possession.” 

“Mulder, we don’t know enough about the case to start speculating.” I pointed out. “You’re casting some really wide nets with very little evidence.”

He gestured to the files. “Scully, there’s something here.”

“And I’m not saying there isn’t. I’m just suggesting that we review all of the cases and evidence before we draw any conclusions, Mulder. That’s all.” I explained, lightly placing my hand over his.

“Okay, fine. Have it your way.” Mulder took a sip from his own water bottle. “But tell me, Scully, what would it take for you to stab a partner twenty-seven times in bed?”

“I really hope that this isn’t some form of foreplay.” I teased, turning back to the stack of files.

“Indulge me.” He smirked, leaning closer to the table. “Dishonesty? Infidelity? Abuse?”

“Well, ignoring the fact that I wouldn’t...” I began with a breath. Mulder was quiet, waiting for me to decide if I would continue speaking or leave it as is. “Abuse can be a motivating factor for extreme behavior like this. Violence begets violence.”

“Violence begets violence.” Mulder agreed, picking up a stray pencil and maneuvering it through his fingers. “Could Mr. Hastings have witnessed deplorable behavior from Ms. Miller? Enough to beget violence?”

“We have no way of knowing that.”

“Okay, then enough to disembowel your secret lover and maul your best friend?” He pointedly asked.

Sighing, I shook my head. “Mulder, it is physically impossible for Annie to be able to carry out an attack like that, especially against two able-bodied people.”

“She could if she was possessed.” He countered.

“Mulder…” I sighed.

“It’s like I said yesterday, and like you experienced. Something malevolent and powerful is out there - we don’t have to prove that it exists, but we need to figure out its pattern, how it chooses its victims, and how to stop it.” He let out a breath, resting his arms on the table. “These cases could be the key to that.”

“Which is why we should finish reviewing them.” I reiterated, flipping open my next one with added finesse.

Mulder smirked as he stood up. “Okay, I’m going to find a bathroom, and when I get back - no more monkeying around, Scully.”

“I’ll try my best.” I smirked as my eyes still roamed over the report.

He grabbed his mug and reached for mine. “More coffee?”

I shook my head. “No, I’m okay. Thank you.”

Mulder nodded before leaving the room.

My eyes remained fixed on the page, despite reading through its contents for the second time. The case itself seemed routine: another unidentified victim dying of seemingly natural causes - heat stroke. I closed the file, finally adding it to the stack of unsuspicious cases. My hand hesitated as I reached for the next one. In a way, this was the first moment that I had to myself since the morning. With a heavy exhale, I relaxed into the old office chair and stretched my legs underneath the table. I rested my elbows on the armrests and my head in my hands.

I thought of Nathan and Mimi, and the state of their bodies when we found them; the thick, metallic air fighting its way into my lungs as my body reacted instinctively while my brain fought to catch up. The glimmer of muted sunlight reflecting off of the lake stirred an uneasiness within me that had only grown with the image of Erin Daniels laying amongst the stones and shallow stream. There was something about these two cases that linked, but I couldn’t quite pinpoint them through standard practices without fully involving the FBI, which seemed to be understood, we were avoiding. 

My eyes drifted to the ceiling. My thoughts circling back to Melissa, my father, Emily… There was peace in death, closure even within the case files scattered across the tabletop; death was the conclusion, despite whether its cause remained a mystery or not. But, a disappearance was all it took to hook Mulder, given his own history and a life devoted to finding his sister, Samantha. If Samantha’s body had been found, Mulder could begin coping with that loss, but the unknown, the semblance of hope – of possibility that she could still be alive had been looming over his life, so long that he probably didn’t know how to live without it.

My eyes drifted from the ceiling back to the seat Mulder had vacated, my body stiffened – my erected spine an iron rod, its metallic taste bitter as it coated my tongue and oppressed the room with the stench of pertichor, raw earth, and decay.

The vision of Erin Daniels sat across from me. The eyes that once scrunched and glittered under a camera's flashbulb now stared through me with sunken sockets—clouded, milk-white, and hollow. Her soggy flesh slacked but still clung to jagged bone, inhumanly diaphanous. And her jaw hung unhinged, her mouth unnaturally agape: pitch black and dripping bile onto the worn wood. I wasn’t processing her, she was an apparition as faint as a floating particle of dust and I couldn’t look away.

I watched her leaking lips, slowly moving around a silent formation of words that I couldn’t quite make out, except one or two “O” shapes: Go . Now .

Startled, my heart stammered and my hands tightened around the arm rests as the door swung open – Mulder hanging from the frame. “Mulder, what’s wrong?” I quickly asked, already on my feet.

“Moms Gone Wild: Hospital Edition” He told me.

I frowned as I stared at him. “What are you talking about?”

“We’re not the only ones with questions.” Mulder began as I crossed the threshold to stand beside him. “Apparently, Mrs. Petersen, Mrs. Joyce, and Mrs. Harris are raising hell with the staff.” He clarified as we strode in unison down the hallway back to the lobby.

Sheriff Thompson was mid-stride to the door, his hat and keys in hand. “You should ride with Thompson.” Mulder suggested into my ear and our eyes met again. 

“Why?” I quietly questioned him, stepping closer as we stopped near the front desk.

“Sheriff!” Mulder lifted a hand in Thompson’s direction to stop him from leaving. He turned his attention back to me, his hands bracing his hips; I watched as he bit into his bottom lip, his eyes softening as he studied my face. “See what you can find out from him. He has a firsthand account of these cases. Even the smallest detail could be important.”

I sighed but nodded as I backed away from him. “Alright, but don’t get your hopes up.”

“I’ll meet you there.” Mulder said and I turned to the lobby towards Thompson.

“I hope that you don’t mind if I ride with you, Sheriff.” I said, stopping in front of him.

He surveyed me then Mulder still standing by the desk. “Sure.” He grunted and reached to open the door for me.

The late morning sun arched high, its brightness as striking as it was jarring. Sheriff Thompson unlocked the passenger door, pulling it open for me and waiting until I was securely inside before pushing it shut. I reached for the seatbelt, my eyes watching Mulder descend the concrete steps and head in the opposite direction to our car. Thompson dropped in beside me, his weight shifting the car slightly as I clicked my seatbelt into place. The squad car was as expected, equipment posed and ready; Thompson buckled his own seatbelt and nearly reversed in the same movement–his eyes trained forward as he pulled off. My eyes subtly took in our surroundings as he drove before shifting to the contents of the car again; there was a small picture, almost unnoticeable behind the MDT, which was likely the point. I tilted my head for a clearer look. The photo was of a smiling woman and a baby in an oversized ruffled dress; the woman was pretty, maybe early to mid-thirties with long, dark hair and large glasses–the child holding similar features.

“Your family?” I wondered aloud, studying Thompson’s profile.

He stilled, likely debating whether to indulge or dismiss me until he finally gave a curt nod.

I turned back to the road ahead. “They’re lovely.”

He didn’t say anything, and I was certain that this would be the extent of our conversation, but Thompson broke the silence: “My daughter–Charlotte–she’s older now. Sixteen.” He paused, reaching into his breast pocket to slide a toothpick into his mouth. “I’m trying to quit smoking.” He added, the toothpick rolling to the other cheek. “I guess she wants me around for the long haul.”

A slight smile broke through my expression. “Well, I’m sure that your wife wouldn’t mind either.”

Thompson grunted, his impenetrable silence returning for so long that I was again convinced that nothing else would be said. But when he spoke again, his voice seemed strained and removed. “My wife, Diane… She died–when Charlotte was just a baby. Suicide.” He swallowed. “Charlotte was with her. I thought that I’d lost both of them.”

Another brief emptiness passed between us before I responded. “I'm sorry, Sheriff.”

He fell quiet again, but this time with an acknowledging nod. My thoughts drifted to my own pain and loss, and the heaviness resting in the air between us, and my mouth was already moving before I registered the action. “My daughter–Emily…” I began, not quite knowing what words would follow. “She’s…she was three.” I hesitated, taking in a breath. “She died a few months ago of… a rare illness.” The car was silent again as I stared out of the window. 

“I’m very sorry to hear that.” Thompson’s voice was low and gruff. “No one should have to experience the loss of a child.”

My head numbly motioned in agreeance. “Being a doctor, you think that there’s something that you can do, but as a mother… seeing how much she was suffering…” I sighed, shaking my head a little to myself.

Thompson silently rolled the toothpick to the other side of his mouth. “I don’t mean to overstep, but…why are you here, Agent Scully?”

“Mulder thought that some time away would be good for us.” I pressed my lips together as I glanced down at my woven hands in my lap. “Getting involved with this case definitely wasn’t his idea, Sheriff.”

“That, I understand.” The tension in his body seemed to ease as he took his first glance over at me. “I was on duty when I got the call. After that, I spent more time at the station than at home.” Thompson exhaled as he turned into the parking lot and created a space for himself near the entrance. “It didn’t help.”

I studied his weathered expression for a moment, the faint line between his eyebrows, and hummed with a polite tip of my head. “Thank you.”

He offered a curt nod in return before reaching for his doorhandle.

“Do you know the details of what we’re walking into, Sheriff?” I asked as we climbed out of the car.

He waited for me to fall into step beside him. “Ms. Petersen’s parents arrived last night, concerned–naturally, but since they could actually speak with their daughter…” We crossed through the automatic doors and Thompson continued. “We got a call this morning about the mothers getting into it with each other and cornering staff, demanding answers–threatening to sue. The whole nine yards. Security’s holding them up.”

Carol still occupied the desk, supplying us with a nod as she pressed open the heavy doors again.

As Thompson and I entered the corridor, Mulder’s leveled voice echoed down the hallway: “Please, Mrs. Joyce. I understand that you’re upset–”

“UPSET?!” A woman’s voice retorted and I quickened my pace towards the ICU waiting area where Mulder stood between a couple–a tall, stern man and a striking, but visibly flushed blonde woman– and another woman of similar stature wearing just as much strain in her expression.

Two security guards hovering nearby posed to intervene. Loud sobs filled the blank space between voices–another woman, doubled over in a chair with her head buried in her palms as a man sat solemnly beside her, no doubt Nathan’s parents.

Mulder suppressed a sigh of relief as our eyes met and I closed the distance between us – immersing myself into the situation as, presumably, Mrs. Joyce continued. “My daughter is in a fucking coma and you expect me to believe that girl is innocent?”

“Beth, you can’t be serious. They were attacked!" The other woman, likely Annie’s mother–Mrs. Petersen–defended her.

“Did she tell you that?” Mrs. Joyce retorted with the crossing of her arms.

“Please, Mrs. Petersen, Mrs. Joyce, we are doing everything that we can in this investigation. Annie is just as much of a victim.” Mulder attempted to reassure the women.

Mrs. Joyce drew in a dramatic breath ahead of some rebuttal, but I interjected. “Mr. and Mrs. Joyce? I’m Dr. Dana Scully with the FBI. I performed the initial examination of your daughter at the scene.” I paused as they had with both of their full attention on me. “I understand how difficult this is. If you’d like, we can speak more privately — perhaps, in Mary-Ellen’s room?”

A breath escaped Mrs. Joyce’s lungs as her eyes welled with tears, but she nodded – leading the way with the man, Mr. Joyce, pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose as he flanked her. I briefly made eye contact with Mulder, who silently thanked me before I followed suit toward the ICU room where Mimi had been confined.

The windowless room was dimly lit by machines and the silver glow of the backlit bed. I shut the door behind me and walked over to where Mimi lay in bed, taking note of Mrs. Joyce’s tearful collapse in the chair behind her and Mr. Joyce’s rhythmic stroking of her back as I claimed Mimi’s chart. The chart confirmed what I’d suspected at the scene. The medical team had induced a coma to reduce intracranial pressure — the result of either blunt trauma to the skull or cerebral hypoxia, possibly both. Judging by the extent of her facial injuries, Mimi had sustained a violent blow to the face — maybe more than one — and the bruising on her neck supported the possibility of manual strangulation or seizure-related asphyxiation. The torn tendons were consistent with the kind of erratic, intense muscle contractions that happen during seizure episodes or sheer panic responses that leaves the body flooded with adrenaline and exhausted. Whatever had happened to her, it hadn’t been a simple attack. It was sustained, frenzied — traumatic enough to send her brain into a defensive shutdown. 

“Mr. and Mrs. Joyce,” I began, my heels sounding against the linoleum floor as I closed the distance.

“Victor.” Mr. Joyce extended a hand to me.

I shook it at the same time that Mrs. Joyce quietly croaked: “Beth.”

Squatting down in front of the chair, I lowered myself to Beth’s eye line. “I recognize that this is an unimaginable situation. But, I do want to reassure you that this induced state has been implemented to aid in Mary-Ellen’s recovery.” I paused before adding, “She’s been very strong.”

Beth choked on the broken, “Yes,” that formed on her lips.

Returning the gesture, my eyes shifted between them. “Is there anything that either of you are able to share with me about this trip? A particular reason for your daughter and her friends coming?”

Beth sniffled and I reached for a box of tissues beside the bed, handing it to her. She thanked me, dabbing her bloodshot, blue eyes and blowing her nose before drawing in a staggered breath. “Mimi’s always been active: sports, hiking, running… and Nathan was the same. They’ve taken many trips like this. I just don’t understand what happened…”

I nodded in acknowledgement. “And what was Mimi’s relationship with Nathan?”

“Oh, he was her boyfriend. He was so sweet. They’d been together almost three years now. They made such a handsome couple.” A few tears fell from her eyes, perfectly landing as scattered domes across the knees of her water-resistant cream trousers. “Margot and Bill are absolutely devastated.” She whispered, holding the wad of crumbled tissue under each eye.

“You mentioned that Mimi and Nathan had taken similar trips as this one. Were they familiar with this particular area?” I inquired and watched as they both shook their heads.

“No, it was their first time here.” Beth wiped her nose with the crumpled ball that she cradled.

“And Annie? Had she also attended these previous excursions?” I delicately questioned, careful not to rile her emotions again at the mention of Annie.

She made a face, letting out an unamused scoff. “Annie? Oh god, no. Ungraceful, uncoordinated, meek. I was shocked that she still agreed to go on this… “couple’s getaway” with them, considering. But that’s just Mimi, always so welcoming and kind.”

“Considering?” I prompted her pointed remark.

“Considering her breakup with that boy–Oh, what was his name? Luke?” Beth looked up at her husband, who didn’t react. “Well, anyway. It doesn’t matter.”

“How long had Mimi and Annie been friends?” I asked with a curious tilt of my head.

She straightened in her seat, shifting slightly and pushing a hand through her thick mane. “Since grade seven, if you can believe it. Once again, my Mimi welcomed her in–the scholarship girl.” Beth paused, letting out an exasperated breath. “Annie was sweet–quiet, very smart – I won’t take that away from her. I just… None of this makes any sense. Why isn’t she saying anything?”

“She is, Mrs. Joyce. Traumatic experiences can significantly impact the brain, sometimes affecting functions like memory. It’s a complex and sensitive situation, but please know that we are working closely with her.” I allowed a resetting beat to pass between us before continuing my line of questioning. “Are you aware of any tension within them: Mimi, Annie, and Nathan?” I studied her.

“No. What do you mean?” Beth’s eyebrows twitched inward.

“Had Mimi mentioned any disagreements or concerns with Annie or Nathan?” I clarified with a casual gesture.

Beth shook her head. “No, I don’t think so. Perhaps the move? But I believe that they settled that.”

My head tilted as I examined her. “The move?”

“Yes. Mimi and Nathan were planning to move in together this summer.” Beth added.

“Why was that decision a point of contention between Mimi and Annie?” I wondered.

“Because they’re roommates. They have been throughout college.” She clarified. “But, Nathan just graduated and Mimi only has another year left, so it just made sense. And darling Nathan was planning to propose this winter. He’d already asked Victor for her hand and everything.” She smiled to herself before her eyes shifted in Mimi’s direction, her expression stilling. “Annie had said something about being worried about paying for the apartment on her own, which really isn’t Mimi‘s responsibility. Really I think Annie was jealous that Mimi had a man like Nathan while she was getting discarded by some kid from Philly. ”

“Dr. Scully,” Victor opened, his voice measured but unmistakably tense, “We have no reason to believe Annie responsible for any of this. We’ve known her and her family for years, and have watched her grow up alongside our Mimi.” He paused to adjust his glasses, drawing a slow breath before continuing. “But the uncertainty—the vague, inconsistent details from both the authorities and Annie—has left us with more questions than answers. And naturally, uncertainty invites doubt—as I’m sure you can attest to, given your line of work. ” His tone remained polite, but firm as he stole a glance at Mimi before refocusing on me. “And while I want to be very clear that we are not making accusations and that we will remain cooperative, unless you are able to shed any additional information on the matter, we would prefer to be given privacy with our daughter.”

“Of course.” I stood then. “I’ll be in touch with any questions or details that I may have. Please reach out if you think of anything that may be relevant to this case.”

I left the room, gently closing the door behind me and finding Mulder waiting near the nurse’s station.

He turned to fully face me as I approached. “Any luck?” He prompted.

Pressing my lips together, I shrugged a breath. “Well, we might have a possible motive. What about you?”

Mulder's head tipped in intrigue just as Thompson joined our cluster. “Just a few more dots.” Mulder added, our attention honing in on Thompson’s worn expression.

Thompson gestured over his shoulder in the direction of Nathan‘s parents. “I’m getting the Harrises situated to send their son back home and I’ll keep an eye on the Joyce’s and Petersen’s. Why don’t you go get some lunch?”

“Kicking us out, Sheriff?” Mulder raised an eyebrow, the ghost of a defiant smirk gracing his lips.

 Thompson’s eyes shifted between us, his hands resting on his belt as he muttered a “no” before adding, “It’s been a long morning and I’ve got things handled here. I’m sure you could use a meal.”

When Mulder opened his mouth to object again, I lightly touched his forearm, silencing him as our eyes met. I turned back to Thompson with a polite nod, “Thank you, Sheriff. We'll check in with you soon.”

He grunted, placing a fresh toothpick in his mouth as we parted in opposite directions. 

“What was that about?” Mulder questioned, studying my profile as we began down the corridor and back through the Emergency Waiting Area.

I quickly cast to look up at him before shaking my head and saying, “Nothing,” under my breath.

“Okay, I’ll take that as something.” Mulder countered as we crossed the sliding doors to the parking lot and headed towards the car. “Did you get anything out of him in the ride over?”

“No.” I let out a breath, shaking my head as I reached for the car door handle. “Nothing about the case.”

Mulder stared at me expectedly over the roof of the car. “Meaning?”

“Meaning that we just had a… human moment.” I held his gaze before pulling the door open and planting myself in the passenger seat as Mulder slid behind the wheel with a scoff.

“You had a ‘human moment' with Thompson?” He eyed me, his hand poised with the key hovering by the ignition. “About what?”

“His family.” I plainly stated.

“His family?” Mulder repeated, raising a brow.

Clicking my seatbelt into place, I rested against the warm leather. “Yes. And speaking of families, what did you happen to gather from the Petersen’s?” I prompted and Mulder let out a breath of a laugh as he started the car.

“Nothing incredibly damning - yet.” He began as we pulled out of the parking lot and back onto the main road. “According to Annie, she and Mimi are longtime bestfriends–they’ve known each other since they were twelve; and are close enough that Mrs. Petersen kept the Joyce’s updated on the status of their daughter as they were traveling in last night. Conveniently, she just happens to be a Nurse Practitioner.”

“Interesting, considering how Mrs. Joyce seems to feel about Annie.” I watched his profile and Mulder tilted his head in interest with a proceeding gesture. “It seems as though Mrs. Joyce is capitalizing on this situation to air grievances about Mimi’s friendship with Annie. Going so far as to paint Annie as a meek, unpolished outsider that Mimi graciously accepted.”

Mulder hummed with a nod. “We should make sure that she didn’t steal the silver too.”

We exchanged a small glance and I suppressed a smirk before composing myself. “But, Mrs. Joyce did reveal that not only were Mimi and Annie roommates, but Mimi was moving out this summer, seemingly causing some tension between the two.” 

“Maybe we should let her keep the silver.” He quipped and I rolled my eyes.

“Although I’m sure that finances were certainly a factor, it might have been overshadowed by the fact that Mimi was planning to move in with Nathan. And Mrs. Joyce also mentioned their impending engagement.” I pointed out.

“So, you’re Annie and not only is your alleged best friend abandoning you physically and financially, but to play house with her boyfriend with whom you are having an affair. And you agree to thirdwheeling their nature retreat?” Mulder raised an eyebrow as he looked back over at me. “I have to say, things aren’t stacking in Annie’s favor.”

Grazing my nails over my bottom lip as I stared out of the passenger window, I stifled a sigh before refocusing on him. “But, what if that’s the point?” I countered.

Mulder ran a hand across his jawline, taking a glimpse at me before fixing his eyes on the road. “Annie mentioned a few more fragments from that night.” He paused. “It’s not much to go on, but it’s something.”

“What did she recall?” I prompted as I turned against the warm leather to face him.

“The black forest, a raging camp fire, muffled arguing in the distance…” Mulder started.

I raised an eyebrow. “Arguing? Between Mimi and Nathan? What were they saying?”

Mulder shrugged, glancing over at me. “She doesn’t know.” I inverted my lips, rubbing them against my teeth until he continued. “So, it could mean nothing…” He reached into the backseat, retrieving a stack of manila folders and dropping them between us. “Or, we have some homework.”

“Mulder!” I glared at him as I picked up the stack of case files. “Do you realize how many codes you just violated by taking these from the Sheriff’s Office?”

“I think that we’re violating more than that.” He smirked at me. “Besides, this is for research purposes – assuming that you didn’t gather anything concrete from Thompson.” Mulder eyed me suspiciously.

Rolling mine, I shifted my attention to the revolving setting beyond the windshield. “Mulder, we’re not even supposed to be working this case. Stealing from law enforcement doesn’t necessarily aid in plausible deniability.”

“But the dots, Scully. Remember?” He smiled at me. “If Annie can’t give us what we need, then maybe these files will.”

The clatter of dishes, silverware scrapping plates, and overlapping voices layered into the diner soundscape. Mulder and I rooted ourselves in a back booth, the files stacked and scattered across the lacquered tabletop – our lunches carefully teetering on the table's edge for ample space and minimal transference between the two. Mulder leaned outside of the booth to take another bite of his sandwich, dropping it back on his plate and wiping his mouth and hands with a napkin before returning to the open file in front of him.

Cradling my salad, I stabbed my fork through the leafy greens – pausing the loaded bite before it reached my mouth, my eyes still scanning the fourth cardiac event case out of the seven files that I had already reviewed. The other three had been accidental: falls, drowning, seemingly freak incidents. The image of Erin’s pale, distorted body in the creek returned to the forefront of my thoughts, along with the illusion of her sitting across the conference room table and her silent warning “go now”.

“What is it?” Mulder reclaimed my attention - my eyes meeting his over the manila divide.

I lay my fork in the bowl, placing it at the edge of the table once more as I licked and pressed my lips together. Leaning forward slightly, I rested my folded arms on the tabletop. “What if there’s some sort of airborne pathogen or hallucinogen?" I wondered aloud.

Mulder released the page that he had lifted to read the next in his file and closed it entirely. “How do you figure?” He studied me.

I scanned his face for a moment and shifted a little, scanning the table instead before continuing. “There are fungi and flora that have been known to alter perception through consumption or exposure.” I paused, loosely gesturing at him. “Yesterday, I mentioned the ophiocordyceps unilateralis during our discussion of influence.”

“The zombie ants.” Mulder recalled, resting his chin on his knuckles.

I confirmed. “Yes, but I think that we were approaching this… influence through an overt lens. We talked about Reagan and Alien and Robert DeFeo, Jr, right? And whether in the media or in nature, these are extreme examples–the possession is never subtle. But, what if there is something indigenous to the area, likely airborne, that can alter brain chemistry, similarly to the cordyceps fungi.”

“In what way?” Mulder countered as his own brain churned.

“Well, for one, I think that there are degrees of exposure,” I started, opening a few files and placing them in front of him – pointing to each. “The majority of what I’ve been seeing are cardiac events: heart attacks, cardiac arrests – you name it, from individuals as young as twelve. Then, you have these seemingly random accidents – and even Erin’s illness after hiking.” I hesitated before pushing through. “What if, whatever this is, has the ability to initiate fear receptors, manifesting in auditory and/or visual hallucinations which trigger a kind of fight or flight response within the person? Maybe the longer that someone is exposed to it, the more invasive it becomes, provoking erratic behavior.”

Mulder watched me before adjusting to set his clasped hands on the tabletop. “So, the things that Annie noted hearing and seeing could have been hallucinations from exposure to a plant or fungi?”

“It could be possible.” 

He nodded, considering this. “And these cardiac cases and accidents could literally be people scaring themselves to death?” Mulder paused. “And Erin Daniels and Robert Hastings could have been overexposed to it, resulting in their violent outbursts. But, that doesn’t explain the  extent of Nathan’s injuries.”

“It could if advanced exposure had a similar effect to PCP or other drugs known to cause hallucinations, inhuman strength, distorted perceptions of sounds, and psychotic behavior.” I added. “That could explain the physiological stress and strain seen in Mimi and Annie’s charts.”

Mulder studied the files in front of him before refocusing on me. “Okay… If this could be attributed to something natural and there are levels of infection, as you’ve suggested, each of those phases have hallucinogenic properties beginning as internal erosion and shifting externally into violence.” 

“It’s just a theory.” I said as I reached for my glass of water.

“I know, and I’m considering it. I’m just having some trouble correlating Annie’s case with a few heart attacks and those with drownings or a climber plummeting to their death. Anything could be likely at this point, but we have no way of knowing if these people hallucinated or not.” Mulder’s eyes roamed my face. “Honestly, I don’t believe that there’s a one-size-fits-all explanation for any of this. I think that there are multiple forces at play here.”

“I’ll examine Annie, Mimi, and Nathan’s toxicology and lab results for any anomalous activity or consistencies once they’re available.” I said, taking another sip from my glass and returning to the files. “Maybe we can gain access to Erin’s full medical records to cross-reference.”

Mulder nodded, the feeling of his gaze lingering just a bit longer as he pulled from his straw and cleared his throat as he positioned the cup on top of its designated ring of condensation. “Are you seeing any other consistencies? In location, maybe? If it is something indigenous to the area, that could be our first step in narrowing down what it could be.”

Looking back up at him, I stifled a sigh. “I’ve considered that, but these incidents are all scattered throughout the mountain range. But, maybe we should visit Erin Daniels’ house to see if anything unusual is growing near the area. The Hastings’ residence as well.” 

“Okay.” Mulder said slowly, retrieving the files to locate the addresses and gesturing to the diner waitress. She came over, all smiles, as she asked if we were ready for the check or needed boxes. Mulder agreed to the check and requested a state map to review. When she returned with both, he paid and spread the map across the table–his pointers tracing over lines until both index fingers stopped within centimeters of each other and he grinned up at me. “Let’s go hunt some zombies.”

The tires crunched up the pebble-paved driveway of the quaint white, Cape-style house. A small porch with lattice siding protruded from the front and four steps elevated the structure from the earth – flowered bushes framed them. A woman was hammering a “For Sale” sign into the lawn with a rubber mallet, the skinny heels of her shoes sinking in at the same rate. She stopped with a huffed breath, using her free hand to maneuver her styled hair away from her face to better discern our presence. As Mulder shifted the car into park, the woman dislodged her heels to stride over to us with a wide, forced smile. Mulder and I exchanged a quick glance before climbing out to meet her.

“Hello there!” She greeted with a small laugh as she tiptoed through the rest of the grass before making it to the driveway and planting her feet and extending a hand. “Lorraine Capshaw. Mister and missus…?”

“Agents.” We said in unison and flashed our badges.

“Mulder and Scully.” I gestured from Mulder to myself before shaking her hand.

She frowned but a confused smile remained. “FBI? Why?”

“We’re revisiting a case involving this residence.” Mulder eased in.

“Oh. That.” Lorraine’s smile disappeared entirely.

“Yes. That.” Mulder smiled. “Did you happen to know Erin Daniels or Greg Sullivan?”

“Uh, no. If I had, I would have never taken this property in the first place.” Lorraine sighed and tucked her hair behind an ear.

“Hard sell, huh?” Mulder countered as he studied her.

Lorraine licked and smacked her red lips together as she folded her arms over the tea green, double-breasted blazer that she was wearing. “What happened was terrible, okay? It was. And God rest their souls. But, the rest of us, who are still living, are dealing with the consequences.”

“Have you had this property since the incident?” I joined in, causing her green eyes to shift to mine.

“Somewhat.” She began, deflating a little from her initial bushel of feathers. “It sat vacant for two years after the city cleaned it up. My agency bought it and assigned it to me. And here we are four years later.”

“No one else has moved in since?” Mulder traded in.

“No, there’s been a couple buyers, but they never stay long.” A flash of annoyance crossed her features and she ran her hands through her hair again. “Just my luck.”

“What, is the place haunted?” Mulder smirked as he looked from her to me.

Lorraine reached into her pocket, pulling out a pack of cigarettes and a lighter – sliding one between her lips and lighting it. “At this point, it better be.”

“Do you mind if we have a look around?” I glanced back at the house over her shoulder before refocusing on her.

She shrugged as she posed the cigarette between her fingers with an offhanded: “Be my guest.”

Mulder and I rounded her, stepping from pebble onto grass. Our paths diverged as we each set out to inspect opposite sides of the structure and its surrounding acre, scanning the greenery and flowers for anything visibly unusual or out of place. We reunited at the back of the house and Mulder ascended the few steps to open the door, holding it open for me in his wake. 

The kitchen greeted us–clearly newly renovated and sparkling, even in the dim sunlight filtering in through shut blinds. The still and stale air seemed to carry its own weight against the polish.

“You’re a fan of natural light, aren’t you, Scully?” Mulder walked over to one of the windows and lifted the shade. “Nice view of the barn from here.”

“I don’t recall any details about the barn in the file, but I do remember this kitchen.” I took it in once more before continuing further into the house.

There had been a few photos of the kitchen in the crime scene report: opened canned goods, molded and rotten food lining the counters and piled with dishes in the sink. Erin had apparently eaten what she could until it was too expired to consume, hence her malnutrition. 

The living room was much the same: empty, sterile, and cloaked in shadows, so I rounded the banister instead and climbed the stairs, and as I stood at the top, I looked between the two bedrooms–opting to view the one to my right first. It was small and simple, likely the secondary room with sheer curtains still adorning the windows despite its vacancy.

I turned on my heels, heading for the primary suite. Pausing when I crossed the threshold, I took in its emptiness; like the rest of the house, there was a thickness to the air. Inching in further, I stopped again where the bed would have been – where Greg Sullivan’s body was found marinating in its own excretions. And then I was there – in the crime scene – standing at the foot of the bed, overlooking Greg’s body. The room stank of ammonia, feces, and death. The blood that covered Greg and smeared across the sheets and walls was now black and crusted–and the room was freezing. Whispers trickled in from the hallway until Erin entered and she looked from me to Greg before refocusing on the task at hand. She squatted in the corner of the room where a seared pot and crumpled, partly burnt pieces of newspaper, magazines, and books had been primed. Erin opened one of the books with trembling fingers and ripped out a chunk of pages, tearing them into tinier bits and then placing them in the pot; she had a box of matches in hand, striking one after the other until a flame caught and she dropped that into the pot as well, igniting the bed of paper. She hovered her scarred and scabbed hands over the developing warmth, her frail shoulders hunching her body closer.

Then a small collection of whimpers and hums slipped through her cracked and peeling lips until I registered the sounds as whispers of a repeated phrase: “He won’t stop crying. I can’t find him.”

I shifted then, slowly walking over to Erin’s crunched form and kneeling in front of her. Erin‘s eyes remained fixed on the small fire as she trembled, still repeating the words. My mouth opened in hesitation, half certain that the illusion would end by interacting with it before I cautiously asked: “Who’s crying? Who can’t you find?”

Foot falls on the creaking steps and Mulder‘s voice calling out to me, momentarily captured my attention as if the sounds were drifting in from another plane. The floorboards creaked against the sudden eerie stillness that had blanketed the bedroom—the drop in temperature goose pimpling my arms. I hesitated turning back to Erin, unsure if I would find her still crouched over the pot of fire or if I had now become the object of her focus. I slowly turned my head—and a thousand pinpricks shot down my spine.

Erin’s face was inches from mine, her film coated eyes were wide—bulging and void—as her hands crept towards me, reaching to cradle my face—the icicled tips of her fingers touched without feeling, like a whisper searing into my skin as they dragged up my cheeks.

I startled again at the hand on my shoulder and sharply twisted around to look up at Mulder. He curiously studied me. “Everything okay?”

“Yeah.” I quickly assured him, rising to my height and surveying the returned brightness of the vacant room.

“Did you find something?” Mulder inquired, his eyes now mirroring my observance of the space.

“What? No.” I shook my head and he lifted an eyebrow.

“So, you were just…taking a knee?” He countered, calling out my previous positioning.

Glancing back at the corner of the room before turning back to him, I cleared my throat. “No, uh, I thought that I saw something, but it must have been a trick of the light.”

Mulder shrugged. “Okay. What did you think you saw?”

“Nothing, Mulder.” I let out a sigh and walked around him back towards the stairs. “We should check out the barn and then head to the Hastings house.”

“Hey, hey – just wait a second.” Mulder interrupted my stride by delicately taking hold of my forearm until I turned back to face him. He shrugged as our eyes met. “Do you want to tell me what’s going on?”

That was a possibility. I could tell Mulder about seeing Erin – twice – and about the mirror this morning, but it wasn’t real. These hallucinations were likely the effect of stress or exhaustion, or the potential airborne pathogen. Such a vivid scene as the one that had just unfolded could have been attributed to something in the house; dated structures, such as this, could contain a multitude of hazardous materials and wear: asbestos, lead paint, radon, mold-ridden, or even worn wiring. Mold… If this were a fungi that we were dealing with, extreme exposure could be attributed to mold found in home.

I looked up at the ceiling, taking a natural step back to inspect the walls and floors for obvious signs of masked water damage.

“I’ll take that as a ‘no’ then.” Mulder said under his breath as I rounded him to walk back to the primary bedroom.

“No…” I threw an over the shoulder glimpse at him before continuing. “What if it’s mold?” I suggested as I dropped to my knees in front of one of the vents.

Mulder’s steps followed. “That would certainly turn this house into an incubator.”

I held out a hand towards him and loosely gestured. “Keys.”

Mulder knelt down beside me, giving me a pointed look as he retrieved them from his pocket and reached to unscrew the vent himself – moving the grate to the side.

I clicked on the small flashlight that I kept in my pocket and shone it into the dusty darkness. “Nothing at first glance,” I tilted my head as I shifted my attention back to Mulder. “We could have the house inspected.”

“I’m sure that Lorraine might be able to shed a little more light there.” He leveraged the realtor, who I had all but forgotten was still waiting outside.

I hummed in unison with the click of my flashlight and a shrug. “Sure. Let’s talk to Lorraine.”

Mulder sealed his lips together as we stood at the same time. My body swayed and Mulder grabbed my elbow to steady me. “Scully?” His voice echoed and the room went dark.

“Mulder, I’m fine. Really. Let’s just go to the Hastings house.” I attempted to reassure him from the passenger seat.

Mulder’s eyes remained trained on the road ahead.

Letting out a sigh, I propped my elbow against the door as I watched the passing streaks of green and then looked back at him. “Come on. This is ridiculous. We don’t have time—”

“Yes, we do have time.” Mulder glanced from the road to me. “We’re going back to the cabin. You can yell at me about it later, okay?”

The drive continued in silence and Mulder all but carried me to bed when we made it back – his hands on my shoulders as he guided me through the cabin and into the bedroom.

“Mulder, I’m fine.” I repeated, sitting at the edge of the bed.

Mulder nodded, kneeling in front of me to take off my shoes. “Humor me, Scully.” His hands resting on my knees as his eyes met mine; Mulder rose to his full height, only pausing to kiss the top of my head–his hand finding my face and I looked up at him. “I’ll be right out front.”

Mulder waited until I conceded with a sigh and a nod. He brushed my cheek with his thumb before turning to leave me alone and pulling up the door behind him. My eyes remained fixed on the door for a moment, staring after his absence before shifting my attention to the room and its brightness. I stood up, walking over to each window to draw the curtains–only dimming the room slightly, and made my way back into bed, tucking myself under the covers and burying my face in Mulder’s pillow.

He was already active; the sounds of turning pages and the clacking of the keyboard–or the light thumping of his steps–all combined into a comforting soundscape, and I soon found myself drifting off. In the murky haze of fleeting consciousness, something stirred me; my eyes struggled to focus against the weight of my eyelids, but I could make out a small figure standing beside the bed. My fingers gripped the edge of the comforter, lifting it in invitation, allowing Emily to curl her body into my arms. I held her closely, her tiny weight pressing me further into the throes of sleep. Suddenly, my awareness flooded in–the thick smell of earth and decay filling my senses and I opened my eyes again. I hesitated for a moment, still feeling the weight of her in my arms, and as my eyes slowly lowered, my heart rate spiking with the cool rush of fear, I saw what I had been holding–who I had been holding. Emily lay mummified, death clinging to her rotting face and body–maggots infesting her empty eye sockets and mouth.

A sound shook me; my body flinging upright and flying back against the headboard. Mulder ran into the room, his words unclear as the sound persisted, and that was when I realized that it was coming from my body. His arms were reaching towards me and I saw my own arms extend, trembling as my vision blurred until I couldn’t see anything–nothing but that image of her.

I opened my eyes to the room hours later; the world beyond the window now cloaked in darkness. The room, however, had settled into a warm light and I rolled over to find Mulder sitting up in bed next to me - the bedside lamp and his glasses on as he scribbled across his notepad.

“What time is it?” I groggily asked and shifted myself upright.

Mulder set the pad and pen on his lap as he studied me before checking his watch. “A quarter to nine.” He said, one of his hands reaching out to stroke my back. “How are you feeling?”

Exhaling a humorless grunt of a laugh, I ran a hand over my face and fell back onto the pillows. I stared at the ceiling for a moment and recounted the horror. “It was real, Mulder.” I finally whispered. “It was like she was here. I could feel her in my arms — her weight, the smell of her hair.”

Mulder disposed of the pad and pen on the bedside table and then lowered himself to hold me in his arms – allowing my body to nestle into his as he kissed the top of my head. “You wanted to believe that it was her. You trusted that it was. And for that, it was real.” He quietly said.

“She was dead, Mulder. A rotting corpse in my arms.”

He drew in a breath and tightly held me. “I’m so sorry, Dana.”

I pushed a hand through my hair as I rested my head against Mulder’s chest – monitoring his steady breathing and heart rate; burying my face into his shirt, I inhaled the scent of him before poising my chin to look up at him. “It was just a bad dream.”

Mulder’s eyes roamed my face. “You think so?” He asked in a way that wasn’t really asking. He had clearly come to his own conclusion.

I sat up then to face him fully. “Mulder, please.”

He nodded an “okay”, and reached for me again, allowing me to settle into him once more.

Mulder

The cabin had settled into a comfortable silence, only penetrated by the gentle sound of breathing and the steady ticking of the kitchen wall clock. Moonlight slipped through the gaps in the curtains. A bleached streak cut across Scully’s sleeping form, dividing her body into silver and shadow. She had fallen asleep first again, leaving Mulder to quietly work into the night until his eyelids could no longer remain separate.

A slight shift of the bed rolled Mulder onto his back, his sleep uninterrupted as his body settled. The mattress released a small protest under applied pressure, the motion causing Mulder to stir slightly. A familiar weight pressed him into the mattress. Thighs encased his hips, straddling him, drawing him from sleep. His hands instinctively rested on the soft skin of Scully’s legs as he grumbled. “You better be making coffee…” He croaked through exhaustion.

After a beat of silence, Mulder’s alertness returned and he opened his eyes to the blinding glare of moonlight reflecting off of the blade blurring towards him. His hands shot up to block the knife from plunging into his chest – the blade pierced through his hand instead, and he yelled out. He bucked his knees, trying to shift her weight and regain control. Blood seeped through the wound, collecting at the blade’s tip before streaming down Mulder’s arm, chest, and the sheets below. He shouted her name and pleaded for her to wake up.

Scully’s eyes were glazed over, unseeing, but her strength was undeniable as she pushed the blade deeper, and Mulder screamed. “Damnit, Dana! Wake up!” Mulder yelled as he held both of her wrists in one hand and pushed back against the force that she exuded. “Dana!”

There was a pause — a flicker of awareness — as Scully blinked, the haze thinning from her eyes. “Mulder?” Her voice was faint as she processed the scene. From sheer panic, she yanked the knife from his hand despite knowing better.

Mulder howled as the blade tore free, then collapsed back, panting, onto the bed with a pained groan.