From: lmock@gpu1.srv.ualberta.ca (Loret Mock)
Newsgroups: alt.tv.x-files.creative
Subject: Haunted short short
Date: 8 Aug 1995 18:16:24 GMT



Well here is my second short short.  After reading all the wonderful 
fanfic in the group dealing with Mulder dying, Scully dying, and some 
stuff about nasty dreams, I was feeling a little down in the dumps and 
came up with this.  Suitable for viewing of all ages.  If you don't mind 
a little mush.

The X-Files and the characters of Scully and Mulder are the property of the 
Brilliant Chris Carter, Ten Thirteen Productions, and Fox Broadcasting.
No Copyright infringement intended.  Here we go.

Haunted

By Loret Mock

	Scully had been out sick since Wednesday, it was now Friday 
evening, and Agent Mulder was just leaving the J. Edgar Hoover Building.  
Sliding behind the wheel, he made up his mind to go and see her, since he 
hadn't heard from her since she called in.  On the way, he stopped at his 
favorite deli to pick up some fantastic chicken soup, guaranteed to cure 
the flu in any one.

	The apartment was dark when he arrived, he knocked very softly on 
the front door, not wanting to disturb her if she was asleep.  He waited 
for a little bit, before unlocking the door with his key.  He entered the 
apartment and closed the door quietly behind him, standing with his back 
to it and letting his eyes adjust to the darkness.  Once he could see 
well enough, he took the soup into the kitchen and put it in the fridge.  
he stood surrounded in the silence, debating on whether he should peek in 
the bedroom, or just leave her a note and go.
	As though his body had a mind of it's own, he walked to her 
bedroom.  He was several steps away when he heard noises coming from it.  
He froze, his ears straining to convey to his mind what his eyes could not 
see.  The thought that she might have company flitted briefly through his 
head, before he dismissed it.  He knew those sounds.  They were of a 
fitful person who was having a nightmare.  This thought propelled him 
into her room, but he halted when he saw her.  Her digital clock bathed 
her in an eerie greenish glow as she tossed in her sleep mumbling 
incoherently.  The faint light glinted off the wet tracks down her face, 
and this moved him once again..  he sat down beside her and touched her 
shoulder, "Scully?"  He said gently.
	"She jerked awake violently, and lunged for her gun on her night 
stand.  A strong arm encircled her waist and dragged her back just as her 
fingers brushed it.  "No!"  She cried struggling against the iron band 
pulling her away from her gun... from safety, and unable to hear anything 
over the roaring in her ears.
	Mulder, trying to protect himself from her flailing arms, wrapped 
his other arm across her torso, pinning her arms, holding her tightly 
against him.  "Scully it's me!"
	Finally his voice penetrated her fear, and she stopped 
struggling.  "Mulder?"
	"Yes."  He said loosening his grip on her as she sagged against 
him, shaking.  He felt something wet touch his hand, and realized that 
she was crying.  When he let her go, she curled into a ball rocking back 
and forth.  He hesitated for a second before pulling her into his lap, 
and letting her cry into his shirt.
	"When she was calm again, he reached for the bedside lamp.  Her 
hand on his arm stopped him.  "I was just going to turn on the light."  
He said softly.
	"Leave it off," she whispered hoarsely.  Giving up the safety she 
felt in his arms, she untangled herself from his grip and sat beside him 
on the bed.  She began to shiver in the t-shirt and shorts she wore for 
night clothes; bereft of his body heat.
	He felt along the foot of the bed for a blanket or something.  He 
found her robe and draped it across her shoulders.  She stuck her arms in 
the old beat up terry cloth thing, and wiped her face with the sleeve.
	"I brought you some soup..." his voice trailed off.  "You aren't 
sick are you?"
	Scully squeezed her eyes shut and shook her head.
	Mulder guessed that if she would let him turn on the light, he 
would see dark circles under her eyes.  "How long have you been having 
nightmares?"
	"Not plural, just one."  She whispered.
	They sat in silence for a minute.  "Tell me," he prompted.
	"She took a shaking deep breath, she hadn't wanted him to know, 
which was why she called in sick.  She wanted to get these damn dreams 
under control before going back to work.  *He* would know that something 
was wrong, and would drag it out of her, most likely at work, and if she 
ended up breaking down there... she shuddered at the thought.  And to top 
this mess off, she had a pounding headache.
	"I'm running down an alley, there is a car with two bright 
headlights chasing me.  I don't know where my gun is.  I just know that 
if I can get to the end of the alley, I'll be safe, but the faster I run, 
the further away it gets."
	"Dreams are annoying that way."  Mulder said dryly.
	Scully smiled a little knowing that he was trying to lighten the 
dark fear of the dream.  "When I finally reach the end of the alley, you 
are there, and I go to you, but then it's not you anymore."
	"Who is it?"  Mulder asked tightly, remembering an alien hitman, 
with the ability to change his appearance.
	"It's... an alien, I guess.  It has elflike ears, long skinny 
arms and legs, no hair.  It reaches for me and I wake up screaming."  She 
finished tiredly.  
	"So what do you think Doctor?"  She turned to look at him in the 
dim light.  His face was a mask of intense concentration.  She could see 
his mind clicking away, analyzing.
	"I'm sorry Scully," he said staring at the floor.
	"Why?"  She asked puzzled.
	"I'd hate for you to think, even subconsciously, that I would 
deliberately lead you into danger with no way to protect yourself.  Even 
though it seems I do that every week."
	Scully put her hand on his back, "Mulder, I know our work is 
dangerous, and maybe my brain needed to remind me of that before I got 
careless."
	"Do you still trust me?"  He whispered.
	"With my life," she whispered back.
	He smiled relieved.  "Why don't you try to get some sleep."
	Scully wrinkled her nose at the thought, even though she was 
exhausted.
	"Come on," he pulled her to her feet, and took her robe.  He laid 
it at the foot of the bed as she climbed back under the quilt.  He sat 
back down on the bed beside her, his back against the headboard, and legs 
stretched out.  "I'll tell you a story to chase all the bad dreams away," 
he teased.  "Once upon a time, there was a very capable, strong FBI agent 
of the female person."
	"My, how politically correct," Scully smiled wriggling a little 
closer to him.
	He draped his arm across the pillow above her head before 
continuing.  "This Agent kicked posterior, during her academy days, and 
during her early career in the Bureau.  Then one day she was assigned to 
keep a stern eye on another agent of out of the range of normal 
perceptions.  Namely me."  He glanced down at the sleepy smile on her 
face.  "This height and theory enhanced agent gave the female person 
agent a very difficult time during their first few assignments together, 
until he discovered that she could kick humanoid type--not of this earth 
posterior as well.  And so with this mutual respect they go on."  He 
finished, hearing her deep even breathing.  Untroubled by haunting dreams.

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