Chapter Text
His arms felt welded in place, no matter how hard he tugged at them. If he was screaming he couldn’t tell, all the noises in the room seemed to melt into one overstimulating high pitch. The darkness around him made him wonder if maybe he was dead.
“Get up Mulder!”he heard Scully yell through his door, hitting the door repeatedly like a drummer in a parade.
“AH!”Mulder gasped awake, accidentally taking one roll too many and falling off the bed with the covers behind him, rattling and clattering following the loud thud of his body. He could hear Scully’s muffled laughter behind the door as she proceeded to yell and him to hurry up so they wouldn’t be late. With a grunt he sat up on the floor, dragging his hand over his groggy face. He swore it could be the apocalypse and she would still get up early every day.
Trying to get the crusted-over gunk out of his eyes he spied an orange bottle on the floor, when he remembered the previous night. He wasn’t sure how much Scully believed him, or more importantly, how much she was willing to indulge him on his wild goose chase. At the minimum she seemed to understand this was one of his more tame requests when it came to finding intel, so maybe she didn’t mind spending extra time at the beach house while he dusted off boxes.
He was surprised with himself at how much he told her, even if in the end it had been a big nothing sandwich to her, it was a big step towards telling her the truth. In all honesty, he wasn’t inclined to tell her the details of those memories even if he could. While none of them were very clear, they all were some type of painful or chilling. And they didn’t seem keen on leaving him now that they were back, adding to the playlist of horrors that replayed in his brain at night.
As he put the pill bottle back on the nightstand he remembered he downed a few pills the previous night to try and get some decent sleep, knowing he would never be able to get a drop of sleep in that house otherwise.
He had gotten into the habit of carrying sleeping pills anywhere he went, in case of any emergency related to him losing his temper it proved to be the easiest safety switch. As he dressed, dreading the heat as he slid his suit jacket on, he picked up the pill bottle, adjusting the cotton swab inside to make sure they didn’t rattle around as they rested in his pocket. It was a nifty trick he learned from Scully one day when she asked why his bag sounded like a maraca on one of their first cases. She had caught a glimpse of them a few times before, but mentioned nothing of them, it was probably not a wild thought for him to have with his regular insomnia, why she never questioned why he carried them around he didn’t guess. He did one last check to make sure there were enough in the bottle, thanking the gunmen for being his secret dealer for the outrageous amount of pills it took him to knock him out, his system never letting him go down without a fight. He wasn’t sure if the gunmen were onto him, but he was sure Byers thought he had a drug problem, refusing to fill out the fake prescription script for him any time he asked. Langly probably thought he was selling them on the side to make a quick buck on his shitty federal salary. Frohike he was sure was closest to the truth, one of the few people he’s ever been able to drink long enough with to get properly drunk, which nevermind what words slipped his drunk lips that he didn’t remember, just by the amount of alcohol he consumed without dying in front of him he was sure he figured something was up.
Ready and overdressed for the heat, he stepped out to the living room, looking around for Scully. He was about to call out for her when he felt the gentle breeze coming for the back porch, where he could see her through the screen door. Not wanting to disturb her peaceful moment by calling her, he decided to join her instead. As he pulled on the screen door he found it stuck, likely to the lack of use since so long ago, so he decided to give it a stronger pull than probably needed, momentarily forgetting his own strength and sending the sliding door crashing into the end of the wall, something clattering and clanking to the floor outside. Scully turned around, her orange bangs getting caught on her face as a gentle breeze swept by.
“Sorry about that, didn’t mean to ruin the moment.”he apologized as he examined the screen, deciding it was very likely it would need to be replaced regardless of his handy work. Scully gave him a small smile as she swept her hair back, something on the floor catching her attention by his feet. He looked down and noticed an old sea worn horseshoe, bending over to pick it up. “I remember my mom hanging this up the summer Sam was taken.”
“Must have fallen when you put the screen door in its place.”Scully said playfully as she pointed at a haphazardly placed nail on the wood frame of the house, taking it from him and placing it back open side down.
“Some people believe that you have to place it open side up for it to be goodluck, you know.”he explained, earning him a pointed look from her. “That’s fine Scully, if you want I can go grab the ladder and you can go walk under it, I’m sure we can find an umbrella for you to open inside too.”
“Mulder, why would you believe I would think luck is a real thing, if you can barely get me to believe in whatever graces our desk every other day.”she reminded him as she walked back into the house, waiting for him to walk back in, and making a show of sliding the door with extra gentleness.
“Come on Scully, you’ve said it yourself the unexplained is just something waiting to be explained.”he tried to lure her into the argument, opening the front door like a valet and motioning for her to go first.
“I reserve that for your beloved sea creatures and the like Mulder, not abstract concepts like luck.”she caveated as they reached the car, Mulder holding her entry hostage as he waited by the drivers side, looking over the roof of the sedan to her.
“But what if luck is something we could quantify mathematically? You know, a butterfly flaps its wings in a forest type of thing.”he held one hand up and wiggled his fingers in a fluttering motion as he reached for his keys with the other, looking at Scully for a response as they both slid into the cabin of the car.
“How exactly would putting a horseshoe rightside up on a wall lead to something good happening to you?”she challenged.
“I don’t know Scully.”he shrugged, the corner of his lip quirking up as they pulled out of the driveway, always enjoying finding a way to push her buttons. “I’m not privy to all the details, that’s why we got a whole department, is it not?”
Scully seemed like she thought better of giving into his ramblings, a small smile as she exhaled dramatically and looked out the window as the trees and water slowly dissolved into the small town streets. There was little chatter between them after that, he had no doubt she was still going over the previous night in her head. For once he didn’t feel like they were at odds about it though; he still felt nervous about her potentially finding out about his mutation, and he had a feeling she could sense that and how he was trying his best to offer an olive branch for going about this.
They pulled into the police station parking lot, walking into the building. Both were involved in their own thoughts when they heard the uproar of a woman in a shouting match the moment they opened the front door, before the cool AC even hit them. They both stopped and looked around the small hallway leading into the bullpen, a few uniformed officers walking away in clear hopes of escaping whatever was happening.
“I trusted you Batemen! You said there would be no issue with the locals!”an angry female voice yelled. Mulder had no issue finding the owner of the voice, the entire bullpen surrounding the two people he recognized from the case files. He recognized the woman as one of the moms of the missing kids, a tall blonde lady that looked like she had never been told no in her life and you would not like to poke in a situation like this. On the receiving end of her anger was a man about Mulder’s height, who he identified as Jonothan Batement, the owner of the construction company for the neighborhood.
Mulder cleared his throat and put his hands on his hips, mirroring Scully’s choice to cross her arms, “What’s happening here?”
“You’re the FBI right?”Marie, Mulder remembered her name, turned a finger to them from Bateman.
“Agent Mulder and Scully.”he confirmed, pointing at himself then Scully. “Mrs.Hansley I presume, would you mind telling us what is going on?”
“What’s going on?”she mimicked in an upset tone, swinging her accusing finger over at him, “What’s going on is that the police refuse to look into the only suspect they have!”
“Now Marie, Harriet is in her seventies and not in her sense, you can’t possibly-”Mulder turned his head to notice Williams standing by what looked like a small group of upset family members, who at least were keeping their motions in check.
“Don’t you think it's odd that everyone on our street has been affected except her? We’re being targeted! Hell, even Jim was fine until he decided to move out.”she exclaimed, looking around and seeing unbelieving faces of the local PD. “My husband heard him talking about it at the bar the night before, Jim was rambling about how Harriet had showed up at his house with a loaded shotgun when she found out he was leaving. It can’t be a coincidence!”
“Mrs.Hansley,”Scully started in her calm but authoritative voice, “I assure you we’re looking into every lead we have.”
Her words only seemed to anger the mother more, and started to ask for their bosses' information. Mulder took a deep breath and looked around as Scully turned to address the entire group of family members instead, asking if anybody else had any other information they thought would help. He was about to step in to help take some of the brunt of the upset victims when he saw somebody trying to slither out of their field of vision.
“Mr.Bateman!”he huffed as he tried catching up to him by the building entrance, the now calmer voices behind him muffled and out of sight. Bateman stopped slowly, his shoulders slouching before he turned around with an expression that read I have places to be. Mulder waited for a second to see if he would say something, but it seemed like he was waiting for him to ask whatever he wanted.“Is that true, about Jim selling the property?”
Bateman’s eyes went wide for a split second, his grip on his briefcase handle tightening and relaxing over and over. “No, he refused to sell the property.”he spat, his voice a little too tight for somebody who was just having a bad day at work. Mulder kept his silence. “Last I heard he was planning on renting the property. You can check with his agent.”
“In a rush to be somewhere Mr.Bateman?”he asked as he noticed the man glancing back and forth from him and the exit.
“I have a business to run, agent.”he grunted, getting a sarcastic aha and a nod from Mulder, which he did not seem to appreciate. He started to rummage through his pocket, pulling out a small white rectangle and shoved it towards him and barged out the door in a huff.
“What was that about?”he heard Scully sneak up next to him like a cat, handing her the business card he was just handed.
“Seems like Mr.Construction requires an appointment ahead of time to talk. Have the crowds been quelled?”
“For now. They all seem to be adamant about Harriet needing a check regardless of whether she is involved or not; they say the last few times people who have seen her she’s not been making sense, and multiple people have seen her with a loaded weapon on her person.”she sighed. “I told Captain William’s I could go do a wellness check since we planned on speaking to her regardless. Other than that, nothing new.”
Scully wordlessly handed him a piece of scrap paper to him as they headed back out into the suffocating heat. Mulder read the address, and even if he didn’t recognize it written down, he knew by muscle memory exactly where it was.
He let go of a breath he did not realize he was holding as he shoved the paper in his pocket and turned the engine on, “I know where we’re going.”