Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Fox Mulder checked the time again. She wasn’t caught in traffic late, it was beyond that now. She wasn’t one to oversleep and he was beginning to have a nagging little feeling in his stomach, one of worry, that he should call her, check in, because if she was a no show, that would be very concerning.

But he couldn’t go from zero to a hundred, even if Scully had rarely been late in the time they’ve worked together. Oddly, she wasn’t often early either. She was extremely punctual while he lived in the office half the time. Maybe that’s why it was unsettling. She was late and she hadn’t even bothered to call.

He’d seen Skinner already, first thing they were told to come upstairs, and he thought for sure she’d be sitting in the office on his return, wondering where the hell he was. But it was empty and so he started to work, became invested, and was surprised when she was still not present another twenty minutes later. He’d give her ‘til the top of the hour and if she was still absent, he’d call and hope she’d answer.

The click of her heels were soft in the hall, then louder, getting closer. He glanced over, peeked up just as she entered, but there was no eye contact, her gaze was directed downward. Scully stopped just inside the office doorway. She was wearing a thin coat over a navy pantsuit and she began to shrug out of her coat.

“Morning, Scully.” Mulder was trying to gauge if she was okay or not. A joke was the way to go. He could measure where she was based on her response. “Too much fun on the long weekend?”

“Memorial Day isn’t really cause for celebration, Mulder,” Scully told him with a pointed look.

Oof, yeah, she was in a mood all right, he just hoped she was okay. But Mulder could circle back to that, they would have plenty of time. He decided to be dismissive, not let on how intently he was watching her.

“Doesn’t mean people won’t blow their hand off shooting off fireworks anyway,” he commented. “We’ve got a case.”

“Skinner called you up?” Scully winced slightly, hoping her tardiness wouldn’t be an issue she’d receive an email about later.

“Us,” Mulder corrected as he rose to his feet. “I covered for you. Said I sent you out for coffee.”

She gave him a grateful look. “I owe you one.”

“Two sugars, splash of cream.” Mulder smiled at her, trying to be somewhat charming, trying to diminish her bad mood.

The faintest of smirks tugged at her lips, but she made no comment.

“Anyway, we’re heading out.” He stood and moved the cardboard box of manila folders, reports, paperwork, to the end of the desk. “Got the files for you here and it’ll be about three hours by car.”

“I’ll get my bag from my trunk and meet you.”

She was out the door just as fast, didn’t even put her coat on, only grabbed it. It was a strange morning, that was for sure. Mulder would get to the bottom of it, they had time. He wondered if the three hour ride would be enough and doubted it. She was icy today. But he could work with it, work on it.

He grabbed the box of files and headed out into the hallway. She was already gone so he locked up and headed for his car.

They managed to find parking about a block away from the row of townhomes in which Scott Evans lived. The buildings were brick, reds and browns with scuffs of tan and gray. Scully walked at Mulder’s side, but he took to the stairs first and knocked just as she stepped beside him.

He spared a glance at his partner. She had been quiet as she read over the case files in the car. Normally, she’d offer opinions and thoughts, or at least make some ‘hmm’s or sighs, but there was none of that on their car ride.

The front door opened which drew Mulder’s attention away from Scully. A man that was just about Mulder’s height and build was across from them. His hair was dark, a bit long and mussed, and he had hazel eyes and a paled, nervous look about him. He wore thick rimmed glasses.

“Hi,” Mulder greeted just to ease him. “Scott Evans?”

“Yes?” Scott replied and glanced at Scully.

“I’m Agent Mulder, this is Agent Scully from the FBI,” Mulder said. “We’re here to discuss your late father and the circumstances around his death.”

“Oh.” Scott’s eyes widened in surprise and he took a step back. “Yeah, yeah, come in.”

“We’re sorry for your loss,” Scully added upon entry into the home.

“I appreciate it, yeah.” Scott led them immediately out of the hallway and to the living room on the right. He left the couch open and opted for a chair across from it. “I hadn’t seen Dad in a while. I lived out in Seattle for about eight years, came here the last three, never made it up to see him.”

“When was the last time you spoke with your father?” Mulder asked and took a seat on the couch. He expected Scully to sit beside him, but she lingered near the doorway, eyeing the bookcase beside it. He returned his focus to Scott.

“A few days before he died,” Scott answered. “He called me and didn’t sound like himself. He was kinda distant after Babs died, his wife. My stepmom. She passed away two months ago.”

“Cause of death?” Scully asked, very much intrigued by this part of the story. The case files mentioned the town and the mysterious deaths, but it hadn’t listed Barbara’s cause of death.

“Something with her heart,” Scott replied with a slight shrug. He wasn’t sure. He wasn’t given details.

“So Babs died two months ago and your father died about six weeks later,” Mulder concluded, going over what was in the files. “What was his cause of death?”

Scott’s face grew solemn. “Same thing. Heart failure.”

“Did he have a history of drug or alcohol use?” Mulder replied. “Did they find any in his system?”

Scott shook his head. “No.”

“Would you consent to us digging up his body to perform another autopsy?” Scully asked. She was standing in front of the bookcase, arms folded across her chest. Mulder thought she seemed standoffish. He hoped it didn’t deter Scott from giving them truthful answers.

“I would, but they cremated him,” Scott said. “Without my say, I might add. Same with Babs. Todd okayed it all. That’s her son. He still lives there, in town, with his wife. He’s on the town council.”

“Do you speak with Todd?” Mulder asked and made a quick note. “Are you on good terms?”

“Not really,” Scott answered. “Haven’t seen him since I left, never call him either.”

“And you’ve mentioned in your email that there have been other deaths,” Mulder reminded him. “How do you know?”

“Suzi,” Scott said as if it pained him. He cleared his throat. “Uh, Suzanne Burrows. She was an old friend of mine. We went to school together. She was a kind person, quiet, into photography and drawing. She called me after Dad died and we started to catch up again. She asked a lot of questions about him, when I talked to him last, that kind of stuff, too. Before he died, he sounded kinda scared, and I told her that.”

“Why was he scared?” Scully asked softly. Mulder glanced at her again. She’d softened, she was present here with them, interested.

Scott shook his head and his left knee began to bounce. “He kept saying he made mistakes, didn’t ‘do right,’ said he was sorry, but he never elaborated. It didn’t sit well with me, but I didn’t know what to do at the time. I should have called him again or tried to go see him…”

“You didn’t know,” Scully told him gently.

“Yeah.” Scott let out a sigh. “Anyway, when Todd didn’t want to plan a memorial or anything, I reached out to my dad’s best friend for as long as I could remember, Paul. Paul Besecker. I thought maybe we could plan something. Paul’s wife answered, Jeanne, and told me Paul died, like, six months ago, and when she said that, I got chills. She got off the phone real quick.”

Mulder was jotting down some notes, writing down new, fresh names so they had somewhere to start when they went into town. While these members of the community were older, it was unlikely for all of them to pass away in such a short time to one another. He wondered if it was something in the water, the environment, or perhaps even murder.

“Suzi was telling me that the deaths didn’t surprise her, that everybody was cremated, and it was all believed to be heart issues,” Scott went on. “She told me not to tell anyone so I left her name out when I contacted you guys, but maybe that was a mistake because now she’s missing.”

Mulder froze and raised his eyebrows as he looked at Scott. “Did you call the local police department and file a missing persons report?”

“I tried,” he said. “They told me they have no record of Suzanne Burrows in the town. She lived there her whole life. She was a somewhat private person… But she practiced photography, she lived with her mom, she worked at the diner. She existed and they refuse to claim her.”

“And she was looking into the mysterious deaths?” Scully asked.

“Yeah. I mean, I guess.” Scott shrugged, becoming exasperated, emotional. “She said she needed to make sure she was ready when the truth came out, but she didn’t tell me what that meant. She said that maybe she would finally ‘do right’ this time. When I couldn’t get in touch with her, I called her work, they said she doesn’t work there. I called her mom and she said she doesn’t have a daughter.”

“Are you sure you called the right number?” Scully thought this all sounded too far-fetched. “That the family didn’t move?”

“No, I spoke to her mom,” Scott responded. “She’s got a smoker’s voice like gravel, I recognized it instantly. I don’t know why she’d lie to me. Maybe Suzi is there, but her mom doesn't want her talking to me. Or Suzi doesn’t anymore. I don’t know. Suzi told me a lot of crazy stuff.”

“Like what?” Mulder prompted.

Scott let out a heavy sigh, looked away. “That town has secrets. Vacationers come and go, starting around now all the way through the fall, even Christmastime for the lights, for the feel of the town. It’s their bread and butter. They’ll have you believe it’s the most perfect little place, but it’s not. There’s, it’s… it’s an ol’ coal miner town. Lots of dark things, depression, old Victorian style homes that are supposedly haunted. It draws crowds in with the lore, the town looks cute, but… something is going on there.”

“We’ll get to the bottom of it,” Mulder assured him. He wasn’t planning on leaving town until they sorted this all out.

“Good luck,” Scott told them sarcastically. “The town welcomes tourists and prides itself on showing off grand ol’ Americana, but stay too long and you’ll be shut out. They don’t actually like outsiders and they certainly don’t like the government.”

An idea sparked fast in Mulder’s brain. Maybe they wouldn’t like the FBI in their business, nor some tourists asking a lot of questions, but there was another avenue to make this work. “What about a prodigal son come home?”

Scully frowned deeply and looked over at Mulder. “What do you mean?”

Mulder’s eyes were still trained on Scott as he sized him up. “You haven’t been there for what? Fifteen? Twenty years? Think I could pass for you?”

“I…” Scott cut himself off and his eyebrows drew together as he thought about it. “Maybe?”

“And your dad’s house?” Mulder prompted. “Who lives there now?”

“No one,” Scott said. “I was actually supposed to head in soon to start clearing it out.”

“And you haven’t seen Todd, haven’t spoken to him?” Mulder reaffirmed. “What about his wedding?”

“I didn’t go,” Scott answered. “We’re not close at all. We don’t even exchange holiday cards or anything. We’ve only been sending each other email about my dad.”

“And no one else there has seen you,” Mulder added. “No photos, nothing?”

“Not that I’m aware of, no,” Scott replied. “Suzi might be the only one who would probably know you’re not me, but I haven’t seen her either, not since I was a teenager.”

“And she’s missing,” Mulder added.

“Yeah,” Scott agreed quietly. “You could go, see if they buy you’re me. Maybe they will talk.”

“It might be our best bet.” Though Mulder noticed Scully had not said another word. He stood to his feet. “Give us a minute. We’re going to head out and make a few calls.” He’d have to run everything by Skinner. “And we’ll be in touch.”

“Sure,” Scott nodded and stood as well. “Sure thing. Let me know if there’s anything else you need from me.” He walked them to the door and saw them out.

Mulder led the way back to the car, planning to ring Skinner, but he wanted to hear what Scully thought first, then he could give Skinner the rundown on their plans and make sure their boss was in agreement too. He popped the car door open for her and she slid in. He got in on the driver's side and closed the door. They sat.

There was a quiet reserve. She was going to say something, Mulder knew it. Her brow was furrowed and he pushed the key into the ignition, but didn’t turn it. He waited and she finally spoke.

“Mulder, I don’t know.” Scully shook her head slightly, but she wasn’t looking at him. She was running her finger along the edge of the case file folder in her lap.

“They won’t talk to tourists, not the FBI,” Mulder reminded her.

“He’s a stranger, too,” Scully replied. “He might as well be a tourist.” She turned slightly in her seat as she looked at him. “How do you know anyone will open up to him?”

“Do you have a better plan?” he asked.

“We go in as tourists and scrounge around for what we can find,” Scully offered. “And if Suzanne Burrows is missing, investigate the missing persons while we look into the suspicious deaths.”

“They’re not going to tell some tourists the real dirt, the nitty gritty,” Mulder replied. “We have to go in as one of them, it’s the only way.”

“But we’re not one of them, Mulder, and neither is Scott,” Scully pointed out. “He hasn’t been there in over a decade. The other option is to go in as ourselves and try to put the pressure on. Maybe someone will crack.”

Mulder shook his head. “A small town like this? I don’t think so. There'll be a lot of yessirs and ma’am’s.”

“We also cannot be sure no one has seen Scott,” Scully said. “And his brother lives there.”

“Stepbrother,” Mulder corrected.

“And Suzi will know you're not Scott.” It felt like Scully was getting nowhere in pointing out these flaws in his big plan. He seemed set on this mission.

“Good thing Suzi is missing,” Mulder replied. He was going to make this work. He couldn’t believe Scully seemed against this genius idea.

“Unconfirmed,” she reminded him.

“They’re acting like she never existed,” Mulder’s tone grew more impassioned. “If we find that woman and it blows our cover, at least we’ve found her in all of this mess.”

“And who am I supposed to be?” Scully asked and raised an eyebrow at him.

“Girlfriend?” he guessed. “Fiancée?”

She sighed, her tone lowering in her defeat. “Girlfriend is fine.”

“What a sweetheart coming along to clear out my ol’ man’s stuff.” Mulder was working for a smile that didn’t materialize.

“You need to get as much information about Scott as possible before we go,” she told him, though it sounded like a scolding. “Town map, too, what to look out for, where to investigate…”

“We better get back in there then.” Mulder opened his door. “I’ll give Skinner a call.”

Scully preferred he call rather than she, but if Skinner asked her if she agreed with Mulder that this was the best way to investigate, she would back him up. She always did.

“I’ll bring a notebook,” Scully told him and popped open her car door.

Mulder rented a black truck, one nearly the same make and model as Scott’s truck. They didn’t have one at the rental agency that was an exact match, but it was the correct color and looked mostly the same. Scully had taken copious amounts of notes as they prepared to go into town undercover.

Before they left, they dressed the part.

Mulder left his hair a bit messier, bought some prescriptionless thick frames from the local drugstore since Scott had worn glasses since he was ten. He took inspiration from Scott’s closet. His casual attire was fitted jeans, dark in color, and sports shirts, usually the Steelers or Phillies. Scott spent a lot of time watching sports and playing video games.

Mulder wasn’t worried about portraying his new role. He’d be fine, especially with Scully right by his side. He liked her change, nothing but jeans and scoop neck shirts, dresses, and sweaters. She looked very girl next door, humbled, and she packed some scrubs too, just to remind herself of exactly who she was going to be.

Scully was his girlfriend, Amy, dating now for about eight months, a hard working nurse taking vacation time and family leave to accompany her boyfriend to clear out his father’s home. Their plan was to wrap this up within two weeks. Scully was hopeful. She wanted to close this out, she didn’t want to get caught in a lie, and she was sure the longer they were in, the closer they would get to being found out. They weren’t just playing people who were not FBI Agents, Mulder was pretending to be someone from this very town.

They reviewed their history on the drive, keeping basic and simple plots for their early years, their meeting, and subsequent dating. Scully stayed with a very minimal backstory, only child, normal childhood, nice parents. Mulder fact checked with Scully on his history as she went over the notes that would be kept hidden and locked in a briefcase.

The speed limit lessened, the roads curved less, and they were heading into town. There was a big sign on the side of the road, bright white with blue lettering that said,

PROMISE, PENNSYLVANIA
“Know Your Neighbors!”

Mulder hit the brake a little more, eyed the sign and gave a nod to it before glancing over at Scully. “Look at that. Know your neighbors. What a friendly little sentiment.”

“Or a warning,” Scully mumbled. “Know your neighbors to avoid the wolves in sheep's clothes.”

He tsked and slowed even more as the speed limit dropped one last time. He felt like they were crawling down Main Street, but it gave them both plenty of time to check out their new home for the next few days, few weeks if it took that long to solve this.

The buildings were old, most were brick, but they were well maintained, clean and brightly painted. The road was freshly paved, the sidewalks clean as families walked down them in casual clothes, ball caps, thin jackets, strollers and tricycles.

It was old timey, classic Americana, with friendly smiling faces. Mulder wondered where the seedy underbelly was located, the darkness. He wondered if they would find it, if they would find Suzi. It was hard to believe her existence was denied.

“Cute town,” he commented.

“Cute something,” she replied.

Mulder glanced at her, she was still in a mood. This would go a lot better if she was a bit more enthusiastic about their new case, about the investigation, the mystery. She already seemed to think they’d fail.

He put on his blinker, made the turn that would take them up the road to the next left turn that was the street Scott’s father had lived on. The houses here looked a bit more rundown than the main street, but in decent condition.

The family home was crammed between other houses of similar build, only a few feet between them, and the house was longer than it was wide. The siding was white that had turned a light gray, there was a covered porch in the front, and a second entrance off to the side. It was two stories and the window panes all appeared to be triple coated, at least, in white paint, the roof shingles worn.

Mulder passed the house and turned up a small side street which took them to a tiny alley that led right into the backyard. A pebbled parking spot was directly behind the house. Not many other homes had parking spaces, nor driveways, just street parking.

Scully noted the grass was high as she took a tour of the outside of the house with Mulder. While there was not much room along the sides of the house, the backyard was reasonable in size. The backyards of other homes were visible from the alley and the backyard, but she did not see anyone else outside.

Mulder had a single house key, which unlocked the door on the side. Scott had called it a back door, but the only doors at the back of the house were a set of cellar doors that were locked with a chain and a rusted out padlock.

“Let’s check it out,” Mulder said as Scully walked back toward him from the edge of the alley and he led the way up the stairs to the side door.

They entered into a kitchen that was dated, but mostly well kept. The cabinets had chipping paint, but everything else appeared to be in order. There was a small table with only two chairs. A bathroom was to the right and in the back corner was a door that led down to the basement.

Mulder started toward the left, the formal dining room, as Scully fiddled with the window to let in some fresh air to bring the staleness out of the house.

“Pretty clean,” Mulder commented as he looked around the dining room. It had a large table with some mail on it, a small container with a pill organizer inside. Against the wall to the kitchen was a large china cabinet and on the wall opposite the one with windows was a staircase.

Mulder continued on to the last room which was a living room with one long couch set under a window, two armchairs opposite it, a coffee table between. Against the wall was an old television, wooden on the bottom, both large and boxy. Knick knacks sat atop the television set, small angels, porcelain figurines. The front door was near the couch and there was a hutch against the other wall.

He turned to look back at Scully. She was in the dining room, looking around, but she still seemed distant. He needed to get to the bottom of this, her mood. He was really becoming concerned that something was seriously wrong.

Scully started for the stairs. It was two steps to a small landing that led up another eight steps or so. At the top was a bedroom directly in front of her. It was well kept and clean with old looking mint green bed sheets, a matching dresser and side table set.

Photographs were on the dresser, grooming items, some pins, buttons, and a few more knick knacks, mostly angels. A crucifix was on the wall and Scully studied Jesus briefly, the sad expression on his face, the blood at his wrists, his feet, his side. She turned away and went down the hall.

There was a door on her left and one at the end of the hall. The door on the left was a junk room. It held boxes and plastic containers marked with various holidays. There were books and records, magazines, clothes for the winter season. Scully had a feeling she would be spending a good amount of time clearing out this room as they worked to put an end to this case.

She continued down the hall to the last room, another bedroom, but this one had a rocking chair and a bookcase, the bed was smaller than in the other bedroom and Scully decided she would sleep here. The room was at the front of the house, but the street outside wasn’t busy.

“What do you think?” Mulder was at her door and had her luggage. That was kind of him to bring it in and upstairs, but she could manage herself.

“We’re going to need to go through the spare room up here,” she told him. “It’s so cluttered, there could be a plethora of information to find.”

“I can get started tonight.” Mulder loved unraveling mysteries. Rooms full of junk tended to hold many clues as to who people were and what they were interested in, maybe even what they were capable of.

“I’ll help,” she offered easily because Scully loved analyzing and organizing as much as he loved to uncover truths. Putting things in their proper place, proper category, gave her a sense of accomplishment, a sense of what was right in the world.

“Let’s grab some groceries, take a look at the town, and get into our roles,” Mulder suggested. “Tomorrow, we can swing by Suzi’s job.”

“And if she’s there?” Scully asked. “You wanna blow this cover already?”

Mulder frowned slightly and gave a shrug. “That’s a big if, Scully.”

“Amy,” she corrected.

“Right,” he agreed. Amy. She was his Amy.

“Give me a moment and I’ll be down,” she said in a tone that brightened just a touch so it didn’t come across as dismissive.

“Sure,” Mulder agreed and left her to it.

The ride to the grocery store was straightforward, it was right off of Main Street, as were most of the businesses. The parking lot out front was large, two entrances to the store, and the big sign hanging between both sets of double doors read: Hometown Market. The lot wasn’t very full so Mulder parked near the front and quickly got out in order to hurry around the car and open the door for Scully.

“What are you doing?” she asked in a deeper, slower tone, a puzzled expression mixed with a glare set upon him.

“Well, we’re supposed to be a couple,” he reminded her and chivalry wasn’t dead.

“A coupla what?” she quipped as she slid out of the car.

“Ha ha…” Mulder closed the door, but never took his eyes off of her. “What’s going on with you?”

“What do you mean?” Scully started for the building, not wanting to be under his intense gaze. It made her cheeks grow pink.

“You’re not acting like yourself,” he said as he followed her.

“I’m not myself,” Scully replied over her shoulder.

“You know what I mean,” Mulder told her, dropping his volume a little, as he stepped up beside her.

“Get a cart, dear.” Scully told him and entered the store, accepting a blast of coolness from a rattling air conditioner that she hoped would calm her down.

Once they were back at Scott’s fathers house with their groceries inside, Scully disappeared upstairs so Mulder began to unpack their bags. It was only when he opened the fridge that he realized it had never been cleaned out and nearly everything inside was rancid. He quickly threw the door closed, trying not to gag at the smell. He needed bleach and a garbage bag.

Mulder heard her on the stairs as he located some bleach beneath the kitchen sink. He glanced toward the doorway and froze. Scully was dressed in a pair of sweatpants and a white tank top. Her hand was tied into a small ponytail at the nape of her neck.

“I’m going to cut the grass,” she announced.

“You are?” he asked, his eyes widening. He did not expect her to volunteer to do it.

“Yeah, it’s a mess and there’s a mower in the shed,” Scully told him. She had seen it earlier.

“Oh.” He could have done that, should do that instead of clearing out the fridge and making dinner. But he sure as shit wasn’t going to suggest Scully do it instead. “I’ll get dinner going.”

“Shouldn’t take me long.” She offered a tight smile and headed out the side door.

Scully was in the mood for some physical labor. Had she been back at home, done with her workday, she would have gone for a jog, likely through the college campus, checking out the buildings, the flowers in bloom, the less busy spaces with the semester over.

But instead, she was here, so she decided to mow. It was easier than she expected, getting the mower started, but the grass was higher than she realized and she knew she would have to take two passes at the yard to get the grass trimmed down as low as it should be. But she had the time and the determination to do it, even if it would grow dark soon.

She made it through one whole pass at the yard, then lowered the mower more to the ground to begin again when a flash of headlights sparked up the alley. There was a big black truck coming her way and Scully was already mid-mow so she didn’t slow, nor stop, even when the truck parked and a man emerged.

He had thick sandy blonde hair and a thin lipped smile that he offered up with a wave of his hand. Scully nodded at him, eyed the faded jeans and football jersey, and gave him a tight smile in return. Then she turned the mower and headed back up the lawn. Her smile faded and her heartbeat quickened. That was Scott’s stepbrother.

Before they left, Scott gave them a rundown of the family tree, of what he knew Todd to look like, of the type of truck he drove. Scott’s dad, Dale, had told him once how he instilled the love of trucks and sports into both his boys. And now Todd was here to see Scott, and Scully hoped Mulder would pass the test.

This was it, their make or break moment. If Mulder could convince his estranged step brother he was Scott, they would be able to convince anyone else. She watched the man enter through the kitchen, turned the lawnmower, and said a little prayer.

As Scully mowed down the grass, she kept glancing toward the house, looking for signs it was going awry. She wouldn’t be able to hear any shouting or arguments. She would have to leave it up to body language, if Mulder came outside, the expressions they would wear.

It wasn’t long before Scott’s brother stepped back out onto the small porch and headed for his truck. There was another wave in her direction, a tight smile, and he climbed into the truck and drove off. He didn’t seem angry, nor tense. Mulder didn’t follow him out, didn’t come out to see her once the truck was gone. All must have been fine.

After Scully finished the lawn, she returned the mower to the ramshackle shed and parked it inside. She left the door open to allow any fumes and heat to escape, and headed back into the house. She wiped at her sweaty forehead with her equally sweaty forearm.

Mulder was in the kitchen, tending to some pots on the stove, and it smelled good inside, savory, onions and garlic. He glanced over, glanced her over, and turned back to the stove as heat and color grew to his cheeks.

Scully shifted and realized she was drenched in sweat, her tank top was clinging to her, flecks of grass stuck to it. She needed a shower. Her gaze returned to Mulder. “What did Todd say?”

“He was surprised to see me, but glad I came to clear the house,” Mulder answered. “Made some kind of remark about how he thought I wouldn’t show because when the going gets tough, apparently I bail.”

“Hmmm…” That was intriguing and Scully wondered what he meant by it. They would have to call and ask Scott.

“And he seemed personally insulted that you were cutting grass and I was making dinner,” he added. “Guess non-traditional gender roles bother him.”

Scully’s eyebrows flicked up, her tongue wet her bottom lip, and she moved away from Mulder, toward the back window and peered out. “Funny he showed up after we arrived.”

“You think there’s cameras?” Mulder took a sweeping look around. If there were cameras and they had audio, they could be compromised already.

“No.” Scully gently parted the curtain, just a touch. “Neighbors.”

Mulder approached, stepped up behind her, and peered through the gap in the curtains to see the house on the other side of their yard. The curtains were parted in a window there and the woman who lived inside was checking out their house. Scully let the curtain fall closed.

“Know your neighbors,” she said and turned to look up at him.

Mulder met her eye. He was standing much too close to her. She was looking at him just as intensely and he stepped back, moved away, because he was close enough to catch her scent and it was making his stomach feel weird, but he blamed it on hunger.

“Dinner’s ‘bout done,” he told her, his tone surprisingly soft. Dinner was nothing special, but he tried. Chicken and broccoli with a side of pesto penne.

“I need a shower,” Scully said and moved past him toward the staircase in the dining room.

Mulder nodded. “Oh, okay.” He could eat alone, no big. Fix her a plate, let her be.

Scully stopped and turned to face him. “I’ll join you after.” And there was a smile, a slight, tight lipped smile, before she went upstairs. It wasn’t much, but he’d take it.

Chapter Text

After their first dinner in Scott’s childhood home, Mulder and Scully settled into the spare room upstairs and went through the boxes of tax receipts, bank statements, and medical bills spanning decades. They pored over the documents and sorted them until Scully’s eyes grew heavy, the words on the page started to jumble together, and she realized she was reading, but not comprehending. They called it a night, having barely made a dent, but tomorrow was another day.

The next morning, Mulder suggested they go check out the diner where Suzi had been employed. Scully agreed easily. She wanted some hot coffee, several cups. She didn’t sleep very well and she started to dress in a sharp pantsuit, the only one in her suitcase, and then noticed her other clothes, the simple and nondescript attire. Right. She was Amy, not Dana Scully, and she switched out her dark pants for some jeans and a plain, maroon colored v-neck shirt.

Mulder was waiting for her in the kitchen and she noted the way his eyes flicked over her body. It wasn’t often he saw her in jeans and she felt the same about him. It was a little easier to pretend they were together when they weren’t in their business attire. When he looked like he was about to head out to a ballgame in his Phillies jersey, those dark rimmed glasses that conflicted a sports lover with someone more studious. He wore his hair differently too, more tussled, less refined. She found herself staring as well.

“Guess we need to get used to this,” she indicated her clothes.

“I definitely can,” he replied and realized that his words may have come off as flirty, which he hadn’t meant. Well, he had meant what he said, but he didn’t mean to flirt. However, if they were a dating couple right now, he was allowed to flirt, he supposed.

Scully hummed in response, tucked her bottom lip between her teeth, and headed out the back door.

Maybe he had been a little much, or she was still in some kind of mood. He was beginning to wonder if he let it go, would it right itself? Would she see herself through whatever it was that was bothering her?

Mulder headed out the back door, locking up on the way, and joined her in the truck. The drive to the diner was quiet, but quick. It was located on Main Street, much like anywhere else they would prefer to go. The streets branching out were mostly residential.

The diner was longer than it was wide with two large front windows that diners could use to watch passerbyers as they munched on crispy bacon or sipped their coffee. A long counter had twirly stools in front, but Mulder opted for a booth along the side wall.

Scully slid onto the crunchy green seat opposite him and gave a tight smile to their waitress. She needed some coffee to perk herself up, get her head in the game. They ordered some drinks and were left alone to look over the menu.

“Don’t see her,” Mulder commented as he looked around. The diner wasn’t too crowded, it was late enough in the morning that the ‘before work’ crowd was already gone.

“She could be off today,” Scully responded and flipped open her menu. Seeing Suzi here would lighten their case a reasonable amount. They could get to the bottom of the worries she had vaguely mentioned to Scott.

Mulder stretched, arms high, head turned to check out the kitchen. There was a wide window in the wall, no glass, just behind the counter that allowed him to see straight through to the kitchen. He didn’t see her the first time he checked it out when they entered the diner and he didn’t see her now.

“You ready?” their waitress, Deanna, reappeared with their drinks in hand. She was in her sixties, likely, with her grayed hair tied into a messy bun on the top of her head.

“Uh, yeah, yeah…” Mulder leaned forward, scanned the menu, and looked at Scully. “Babe?”

Her eyebrows flicked toward her hairline. The casualness of him calling her ‘babe,’ looking at her from behind those dark rimmed glasses, made her stomach sour, as if remembering some kind of painful memory, as if this had been hers at one point, but it was no longer.

“Yes,” she managed to get out with a forced smile and looked at the waitress. “A western omelet, rye toast. Thank you.” She handed her menu over.

“You got it,” Deanna said with a smile and looked back at Mulder. “For you?”

“Pancakes with bacon,” Mulder said. “And I was wondering if Suzi is working today.”

“Suzi?” Deanna took the menu from him slowly, sizing him up.

“Burrows,” Mulder added as he held eye contact, looking for a sign, a giveaway that Deanna here was hiding something.

“No Suzi Burrows works here,” Deanna told him. “Sorry, love. Order’ll be up quick.”

She left them and Mulder felt he was close, even if he wasn’t. He wanted to believe he’d get a quick break in the case, find the weak link, show Scully he had the right game plan. He was left sipping his orange juice which now tasted bitter.

“It was a long shot,” Scully said softly. “Babe.”

The muscles twitched at the corner of his mouth. Mulder set his glass down and looked at her. “Yeah, well, my next step is Sharon Burrows. We’ll swing by her place after we eat.”

“I thought we could visit the town center and check out the history,” Scully said. “It’s probably a good idea to see what they present, then compare it to our own research and what we might discover. We’ve got to find the truth.”

A girl after his own heart, she was. She didn’t want to believe in aliens or werewolves, but Scully grounded herself in the truth, in facts. What was tangible and real, formulas and outcomes that were the same over and over again. He liked spontaneity, but he admired her dedication to methodical approach.

“We can split up, cover more ground,” Mulder offered as a solution. “It might make it easier when I speak with Suzi’s mother if I was alone instead of bringing my girlfriend. No offense, babe.”

“None taken.” Scully thought it wasn’t a bad idea. If they had to weed through the town history and trudge through all the files and keepsakes and books and storage containers at Scott’s dad’s house, it might be best to split up where they could and reconvene.

“I’ll drop you off then pick you up after I’m done,” he told her.

“Sounds good.” She nodded, became solemn, her thoughts drifting to the past weekend, her mother, her sister. Scully picked up her coffee cup and took a nearly scalding sip, welcoming the burn, the pain on her tongue, the scorch in her throat.

“Heya, Scott?”

Mulder looked up and slightly behind him in the direction of the voice. He adjusted the thick rims of his fake glasses and spotted the man approaching. He was not too much older than himself, with reddened cheeks, stubble upon them, watery eyes, and a full smile. His hair was ashen, a blonde fading out.

“Yes?” Mulder replied, a little uncertain.

“I thought that was you, your brother said you were in town!” The man stopped beside the booth and reached for Mulder’s visible hand. He shook it tightly, briefly, and turned his grinning face to Scully. “And you’ve brought in a gal.”

“My girlfriend, Amy,” Mulder told him and flashed Scully a smile.

“Pleasure,” Scully said easily and shook the man’s hand.

“Matt Hardy,” he introduced himself.

“His dad owns the Hardware store,” Mulder added, a confident shot in the dark.

“Owned,” Matt corrected. “He passed two years back, so it’s all me now.”

“Sorry to hear of his passing, man,” Mulder told him, trying his best to be chummy, something he never usually did as himself.

“Yeah, yours too,” Matt replied and shifted on his feet. He glanced toward the kitchen. “Anyway, just came for my takeout, we’ll catch up another time, yeah? Summer Festival this weekend. You’ll be around? We’ve got a float in the parade.”

“Oh yeah, wouldn’t miss it,” Mulder said with a nod, a kind smile. “Kinda nice to be back. Didn’t realize how much this place still feels like home.”

“Ah yeah, I could go out anywhere in the world, but it doesn’t beat Promise,” Matt told them and then smiled at Scully. “Nice meeting you.”

“You, too,” Scully chimed a reply.

She stayed quiet as Matt left and took a tiny sip from her coffee. She was about to speak when their food was delivered. Mulder thanked the waitress, but Deanna didn’t leave yet. She was eyeing Mulder, sizing him up yet again.

“You Dale’s boy?” she asked.

“Yeah, Scott,” Mulder answered. “Came back to town to clear his house.”

“He’d come in on Mondays,” Deanna said. “Always started his week here with coffee and the paper. Right there at the counter, last stool.” Deanna nodded toward the counter and both Mulder and Scully followed her gaze there.

“I wish I’d come sooner,” Mulder responded in a softened tone that caught Scully's attention. It sounded so sad. He was really putting on a show here. “Didn’t even know he was sick,” Mulder added.

“Don’t think he was,” Deanna replied and then her focus came back to them in the booth. “I mean, it’s just one of those things. When it’s your time, you go.”

A bell dinged from the kitchen. Scully watched Deanna until she was out of sight behind the swinging door. Mulder was chomping on his bacon.

“I don’t know if these people are real or not,” Scully commented quietly.

“Yeah, I know what you mean,” he agreed. “Not enough exposure to the outside world.”

“And I don’t even remember Matt Hardy,” in their notes, she meant. She didn’t remember Scott mentioning him.

“Well, I just guessed on that,” Mulder told her nonchalantly as he poured syrup onto his pancakes from a sticky canister.

“Guessed?” Scully repeated, her eyes widening. That was a risky game.

“We passed Hardy’s Hardware on the way to the diner,” Mulder explained. “He didn’t look much older than me so I took a shot.”

“Well, look at you.” She was impressed, she couldn’t help the feeling. That Mulder was adapting in his role, confident, observing everyone and everything and using it to his advantage… she was very impressed.

“Fake it ‘til you make it, babe.” Mulder grinned at her and she had a quick strange sensation, different from before, as her belly did a quick flip. She averted her gaze and grabbed her fork to distract herself.

Mulder parked his truck outside of a house that resembled most of the other ones. It was old, not very wide, but long, and sat in line with the neighboring homes, leaving only small gaps between them. This house wasn’t maintained as nicely however.

The porch steps were cracked, the screen door had a rip in it, and the paint was chipped and fading. He didn’t take any of that as a good sign when most other homes looked decent or better. He was careful going onto the porch and even more careful as he opened the screen door. He knocked gently. He wasn’t an FBI Agent today.

It took another knock and a full minute before the door opened. The chain was across and a woman peered out. It was hard to see her, hard to read her facial expression, but she was much older than Suzi would be.

“I’m looking for Suzi Burrows,” he said.

“Wrong house.” Her voice was rough like gravel, just as Scott had told them. The door began to close.

Mulder pressed his palm to the door as he pressed her further. “Isn’t this the Burrows residence?”

“Yes, but I have no daughter,” came the quick reply and she added pressure to the door..

“I didn’t say she was your daughter,” Mulder told her.

Sharon’s eye met his through the gap in the doorway and she sent a glare upon him. “Please get off my porch.”

“Mrs. Burrows, I just want to help,” Mulder spoke sincerely. “I care about Suzi and I’ve been wanting to make sure she’s okay.”

“I already told you—”

“No one wants to talk, I get it, but I’m gonna have a hard time going home without answers.” Mulder was hoping if he didn’t let up, she might cave. “I’ll stay in town if it’ll help.”

“I’m just trying to do right,” Sharon said harshly and looked past him, eyes darting around, checking the rest of the street.

A large puff of air escaped Mulder. He clicked tongue and nodded. “Do right. That should be the town motto.”

“You can bring it up at the next town meeting if you think so,” Sharon snapped.

“Oh yeah, when’s that?” He didn’t know if she was challenging him or trying to help give him information, but it was an odd request so he went with it.

“Not sure, I never go.” She closed the door then, abruptly and without warning. He heard the lock click. That was that.

Mulder turned and headed for the truck. He hoped Scully had more luck in her brief time at the town center. He couldn’t figure it out, how a mother could pretend her child didn’t exist unless she had something to do with it. Though she didn’t seem guilty, she seemed scared. But if she wanted to help her daughter, she was going to have to trust somebody. Unless her daughter was already dead and she knew it.

But why was everyone trying to ‘do right?’ What did that mean? Who was putting that idea into their heads? The city council? He was still stewing over his concerns when Scully joined him in the truck.

“How’d it go, Scott?” Scully imagined it didn’t go well, not with the look in her partner’s eye.

“She wouldn’t talk,” he said.

“I figured as much,” Scully replied. “The town's history goes back pretty far, but it’s also very basic, flowery as well. They even tried to put a positive spin on a partial coal mine collapse that killed thirty men and twelve children.”

“Jeez,” Mulder muttered, his focus split between Scully and driving as the person in front of him kept hitting their brakes.

“But the part that intrigued me most was the folklore, the ghost stories, and haunted mine, they call it,” Scully went on. “They sold tickets for ghost walks and tours of the old homes that belonged to some of the miners, restored and fully haunted they claim, particularly Shelby Manor, but they’ve suspended them temporarily. I don’t think there’s a shred of truth in the hauntings, but there was mention of a mine fire, that an explosion caused a few deaths, and the fire halted production until they eventually chose to close the mines. The tours never covered that area, but the mine could still be on fire.”

Mulder deflated a bit at Scully’s recap. He thought she was about to finally admit she’d seen enough to believe there might be some truth in the ghost stories. That was not the case however.

Scully eyed him, he didn’t say a word, so she continued. “If that’s true, it could explain the deaths. If noxious fumes are coming up from the ground, it would be detrimental to the health of the residents here.”

“But if the mine is on fire, wouldn’t there be signs of it?” Mulder asked and spared a glance at her. “Smoke or building damage, land damage?”

“Yes,” she agreed. “Unless the town is ignoring it instead of trying to fix it. I’m sure you noticed how well kept it is here, especially Main Street. Fresh paint, asphalt, newly poured concrete sidewalks. It seems like they’re hiding something. And if the recent deaths were caused by fumes, well it would make sense they were cremated quickly after.”

“Should we call in experts?” Mulder said and was relieved the car in front of him finally turned off. “People who can tell us if the ground’s on fire or not?”

Scully mulled it over for a moment, looking out the window as they passed jazzed up business fronts, the outer paint crisp and perfect, clean windows with charming displays behind them.

“I think we need more time,” she told him and looked at him. “You’re right, I don’t see physical signs of a mine fire. If we bring in reinforcements, our cover is blown. We haven’t any clue on where Suzi is.”

“Sharon Burrows said she’s trying to do right.” Mulder turned up the street that would take them back to Dale’s house. “I don’t know who’s putting that idea out there, but we need to find the source. I’d like to attend a town meeting if I knew when and where.”

“There was mention of town meetings being held in a remote cabin in the beginning, but I imagine they’ve upgraded to a newer building,” Scully replied.

“Maybe Scott can give us some insight.” Mulder pulled into the space in the backyard and turned off the truck.

After heading inside the house, Scully lingered in the kitchen while Mulder called Scott on his cell phone. They were using burner phones, their usual cellular devices being locked up with their files. She listened in as it seemed Scott did most of the talking, Mulder humming and hawing before finally hanging up.

“Cabin’s got some history,” he said and set the phone down on the small kitchen table. “Used to be where the meetings were and then they moved them into town. Once that happened, teenagers used to go to the cabin and hang out there all the time. The bad kids. Suzi told Scott it’s off limits now, but it’s still being used for something. He didn’t know who was using it or why, but it’s council property.”

That gave Scully the chills. She rubbed at her bare arms and nodded. “All right, so where do we find this cabin?”

“It’s walkable from here,” Mulder answered. “About two miles. We head up the hills, going northwest, and we’ll hit the woods and it’s a mile in. The brush gets thick and then clears.”

“Huh, all right.” Scully wasn't too sure about heading out to find the cabin right now, but Mulder had that look in his eye.

“I’ll pack a backpack with snacks and water and we can head out now,” Mulder told her. “We’d make it back by dark.”

“I’m not sure about that,” she commented. “We could get lost or be unable to find it. We don’t want to be wandering around in some woods in the dark.”

“The cabin is secret society stuff,” Mulder pointed out. “For all we know, Suzi could be there. We won’t get lost, I promise.”

“Fine,” she agreed, a little reluctantly. “I’ll indulge your cabin plan. But if it turns out to be a dead end, I think we need to start cracking into the townspeople here. We might catch a break, a slip up, anything.”

Scully always made excellent points. “All right,” Mulder replied easily. “Cabin first, townspeople next. And we’ll still search this house in our spare time, yeah?”

“You got it, partner,” Scully replied.

She headed upstairs to change into a pair of stretchy pants because she certainly wasn’t going to hike through the woods in jeans, even if Mulder decided to keep his on. She packed a small bag with some supplies and water while Mulder added snacks for them both in his. That way, they’d have fuel if this took longer than they thought.

“The yard really looks a helluva lot better,” Mulder commented as he led the way to the alley.

“It sure does,” Scully agreed, eyeing the still wet grass cuttings from the morning dew as they clung to her shoes.

“Didn’t know you could mow, Amy.” Mulder offered her a smile, somewhat teasing. There was a definite twinkle in his eye.

“Anyone can mow, Scott,” she replied, not falling for the charm.

“Well, I didn’t,” he said.

Scully glanced over at him. “No?”

“Eh, when I should have been, my dad never made me,” Mulder explained. “It was after Samantha, we weren’t on the best terms. He’d spend hours on the weekend working on the lawn. I always thought it was pride, but maybe he wanted solitude. My mom pestered him about hiring out lawn workers, but he refused. I thought I was lucky when I didn’t have to miss practice or ball games because I didn’t have to mow the lawn.”

Scully watched him and there it was, that look he got when his thoughts took him to a darker place. He could stew for several minutes, several hours. Or she could draw him closer so they weren’t both in some kind of funk.

“I wasn't ever supposed to mow,” Scully admitted.

He glanced at her, he was interested, she had him back.

“It was Bill’s job until Charlie reached the age Bill was when he first started mowing the lawn,” Scully continued. “Bill said Charlie had to learn like he did. Charlie refused and my mom—well, he was the baby—so Charlie didn’t have to mow. Bill went on strike and my dad told Melissa to do it. That didn’t go over well. He raised the chore payment a whole buck and Bill didn’t budge, Melissa didn’t care, so I did it. I liked it. And it was one of the best paying chores. Made a lot of money in the summers.”

“And here I thought you’d be the planting flowers type,” Mulder teased with another smile.

“That was my mom and Missy. They always clicked. It was easy for them.” She was getting too close, revealing too much. She had to shut this down. “You know, when I mentioned the haunted houses, I’m surprised your first instinct wasn’t to assume a ghost was killing people.”

“Oh, ghosts can’t kill people, Amy.” He paused. “Unless they all died of fright. Now that would be interesting…”

Mulder started in on a theory now, one about a ghost haunting similarly to guerilla warfare and Scully became bored rather quickly because this was one of his more far fetched ideas and it had no basis in truth whatsoever.

He went on for a while and Scully interjected some positive responses so he would keep going, so the conversation wouldn’t weave back around to herself. Mulder was wrapping up once they reached the thick brush and it gave them something else to focus on so they didn’t get caught up or cut up.

It wasn’t until they were completely through the thick brambles and twisty branches that they spotted the cabin. It was made of dark wood that appeared wet even when it was bone dry. The roof was covered in moss and Scully thought it seemed almost sacred, taboo. She didn’t want to snoop, she did not want to go inside.

Mulder didn’t hold back. He was at the windows, trying to peer in, but the glass was dirty and it was dark inside so he couldn’t see very well. He glanced back at Scully.

“Might as well try the door.” She didn’t budge so he led the way. There were no stairs, no porch, just a door several inches off the ground.

He tried the loose, metal knob and while it rattled, it didn’t turn. Mulder eyed the lock beneath it. He slid his backpack off and dug around inside it for his lock picking tools.

“I can make quick work of it,” he told Scully and she watched and kept lookout as he worked the tiny tools in the lock until finally, he managed to get it open.

Mulder turned the knob and opened the door, pressing it with his hand, allowing the door to open fully before taking one step inside.

“Hello?” he asked.

If anyone was here, he had innocent excuses. He was born and raised here, returned home and went for a hike with his girlfriend. Maybe he even wanted to show her the cabin. She had to use the bathroom and he just happened to be able to easily pick the lock… maybe he’d leave the last part out. But so far, it looked like they were alone.

Scully followed Mulder inside. The main room was a decent size and had rows of benches that faced the large stone fireplace. The hearth was scorched and full of ash. There was a smoky smell to the cabin mixed with something Scully couldn’t quite place. It was familiar, earthy and raw, old, spoiled.

There was the tiniest of hallways, a closed door on the right, and the hall opened up to another room with a small kitchenette, no plumbing, and a double bed. One tiny table with two chairs was between both sections of the room.

Scully ventured in further and checked out the kitchen. There was no refrigerator and only a coal stove. The few cabinets were mostly bare. One held a kettle and some paper plates, plastic silverware, styrofoam cups and instant coffee. The rest were empty except for the dust and cobwebs.

Mulder opened the door in the hall and the creak of the hinge startled her. She looked over as he gave a shrug and found a light switch. He noticed the generator outside and the light bulb blazed to life with a hum. He began down the short set of stairs and Scully followed, the smell getting stronger.

The basement door creaked again as it slowly started to close on its own. It didn’t latch completely, but Scully had noted it had a lock on the outside of the door. Something or someone could be locked down here and it made her stomach twist in a nervousness that even being with Mulder didn’t soothe.

It was only when she reached the concrete floor of the basement that Scully placed the putrid smell. Dried, old blood, both stomach souring and repulsive. Mulder was rooted to the spot as he looked around at the stained floor, the flecks and specks on the walls, a single drain in the middle of the room. A killing floor.

“My God, Mulder…” Scully said softly.

It wasn’t just the blood. There was a large, thick wooden table across the room with various tools hanging on the wall above it. On the tabletop were two knife blocks, longer bladed knives on the table, and several rusted out saws. Stacked buckets sat under the table, in the shadows.

Beside the table was a large and tall metal storage container with double doors. Scully wanted to see what was inside, but she was too afraid to move any closer. Instead, she turned and took her backpack off. She brought out her evidence kit and located her swabs and tubes. She could take samples of the blood and send them out to the lab for testing.

Mulder watched her briefly, without a word, without any offer to help, and then he quietly moved toward the storage closet. It was better to get it over with, to see if what was inside was alive or dead. Maybe Suzi was in there. He mentally prepared himself for that being the case as he reached out for the metal handle.

It turned easily and he pulled the door quickly, but all that was inside were long black robes with hoods hanging from a wooden bar. He let out a relieved sigh and faced Scully again.

“Just some robes,” he said.

“I don’t think that makes me feel much better,” she commented and returned her evidence to her backpack. She would send it out as soon as possible, out of town of course. She couldn’t risk mailing it here. “What could they possibly be do—”

Scully stopped immediately, her eyes wide as they stayed locked with Mulder’s for the briefest of moments before they both directed their gazes up. Heavy boots on the floor above, a muffled deep voice spoke low and slow. Another set of footsteps, not boots, but still heavy.

Mulder glanced toward the stairs, there was no way they could get out, no way to know if the people upstairs would come down. They had to hide. He scanned the basement as Scully shifted and drew in a deep breath to calm herself. Her Catholic guilt had always deeply ingrained in her the need to never get caught when she was doing something wrong.

There was a sharp tug on her sleeve that brought Scully’s attention back to her partner. He indicated for her to follow him toward the side of the room that held the butcher block table full of deep cuts and notches. Scully kept her footsteps light as she stayed behind Mulder. He carefully ushered her into the open metal cabinet.

The synthetic material was thin and almost scratchy. Scully parted the robes to scoot between them, then placed herself on the right side of the cabinet and brought the robes closer together. Following her lead, Mulder joined Scully on the left side, but he was unable to get the door properly closed from within, which allowed a sliver to see through.

He wasn’t as covered as she, their backpacks were at their feet, and Mulder decided if they were to be caught, he would give himself up, let her remain within the robes. Though, she likely wouldn’t stay put either, he figured. He could lay down his life for hers and she would jump right back on top of him.

There was a bang, the door to the cellar hitting the wall behind, and Scully jumped beside him. Mulder reached for her hand, got her forearm instead, and he gently squeezed her arm just above her wrist.

The wooden stairs creaked against the weight of the two men descending. Mulder peered carefully through the crack in the door. Scully did as well, her bottom lip slipping into her mouth, her teeth digging in as her heart drummed in her chest. Her eyes widened in surprise and her lips parted as she drew in a sharp breath. The larger of the two men was carrying a goat.

Thick rope had bound the goat's back legs together as well as the front ones, and while the goat appeared to be dead, eyes closed, Scully saw the faint rise and fall of its belly. She had a sinking feeling that the goat would not be breathing much longer.

“Did he say how much?” the younger looking one asked. He had a fresher face and wore a scuffed and torn baseball cap over dark brown hair in need of a haircut. He was dressed in brown overalls with stains on them and a black shirt underneath.

“No,” the bigger man said. “And the idiot left the light on again.” His hair was dark, he had thick eyebrows and an even thicker beard. He was wearing big black rubber boots, brown corduroy pants, and a dark sweatshirt. He seemed mad, like the tiniest thing might set him into a rage.

“Right.”

As the Beard held the goat, Baseball Cap approached the cabinet and Scully stiffened, her breath caught in throat, but the man moved toward the table. He returned to the center of the room carrying two buckets with dark brown stains on them as well as two knives.

“It’s all you,” the Beard said. “Get a robe.”

“Ah, nah, if you don’t care, I wanna scare the shit outta my girlfriend,” Baseball Cap replied with a toothy smile that showed his cigarette stained teeth. “Brought my Jason mask.”

“Whatever.” Beard shrugged. “It’s your shit. Just do it right. He said bring the rest.”

The Beard dropped the goat, which woke it, and the animal struggled to stand and started bleating. Scully shifted to shake Mulder off only to grab his hand tightly. She shut her eyes as the animal cried on helplessly until she heard two heavy blows and a gargled, gurgling sound. She turned her head, pressed her forehead into Mulder’s bicep, and he wished he could wrap her up, bring her into him, and protect her from the sights and sounds.

The goat was in his peripheral, blood spilling into the buckets, but Mulder’s eyes were trained on both men. It was hard to see their expressions, their features. He didn’t think he’d seen them in town yet, but he wanted to be sure that when he saw them again, heard their voices, that he would know it was them and he would make sure he would find out every little thing about both of them.

When the buckets were filled to their liking, the Beard took them over to the staircase. He paused at the bottom. “Finish the job,” he said and started up the stairs with the buckets.

Scully let out a slow breath and she turned her head just enough to look out through the slit in the metal doors. Baseball Cap was kneeling beside the dead goat and he started stabbing it––anywhere, everywhere. She gasped in surprise at the fury and determination. She worried she was heard, but the man was so focused on the vile act, he was unaware.

Mulder squeezed her hand and she loosened her grip completely. She felt sick, lightheaded. She closed her eyes and tried to breathe as she thought of water, of a lake, an ocean, somewhere that was not here. While she wasn’t watching anymore, she could still hear it, the soft wet thuds, the squishing, an occasional crunching sound. She was growing very warm.

Heavy quick footsteps returned to the stairs. Mulder breathed out and watched as the now bloodied man stood to his feet.

“That alright?” he asked, out of breath, and he chuckled softly as he returned the knives to the table.

“Yeah, let’s go,” the Beard said. “You ride in the back with it.”

“Yeah.” Baseball Cap scooped up the massacred goat carcass and both men left.

Mulder waited, he listened. There were the footsteps that faded and Scully’s shallow breaths beside him. He started counting. They couldn’t step out too soon, just in case. Two minutes. Three. All was silent, Scully’s breathing had returned to something normal, though she had moved away from him. He wanted to ask if she was okay. He wanted to wrap her in a hug and comfort her, but he didn’t. Instead, he gently pressed open the door and stepped out.

He could smell the blood, it made his stomach do a weird flip. He eyed the cellar floor, slicked with the red smears that were being drawn to the drain in the center of the room. Mulder looked around. The bloodied knives were on the table and he wondered if someone was coming to clean up. They should get out now while they were able to.

The robes shifted, Scully stepped out from the cabinet and she looked at the blood on the floor only once before she turned back toward the cabinet, fixed the robes, and closed the door. She slung her backpack over one shoulder. Her face was pale.

“At least it was only a goat,” Mulder said and she tsked in response. “Maybe they’re going to roast it.”

“And what will they do with the buckets of blood?” she asked, her tone coming off somewhat mockingly, a defense mechanism. She was shaking inside, disgusted, and felt like the goat’s fear had washed over her and wouldn’t let her go.

“I don’t know,” he replied softly, seeing right through her words, sensing her unsease. “If we drove up here, we could have followed them back.”

“If we drove, they’d have known we were here.” Scully walked past him, avoiding the blood as best she could as she went to the stairs. “At least I got some swabs.”

Mulder followed her. “We just saw where all the blood is from.”

Scully stopped at the bottom of the staircase and set her gaze upon him. “We don’t know if they’ve only killed goats here.”

“Yeah, it’d be a good cover up.” Mulder looked around at the bloodbath. “I wonder how many people know about this… slaughterhouse down here.” He approached her. “Anyone who knows about it could have easily brought someone like Suzi here and disposed of her after.”

“Based on what the men said, at least three people know about what they do down here,” Scully said.

Mulder nodded in agreement. “I think we’ll spend the next few days in town. Those were some big guys. We’ll stay on alert and find them.” He glanced at her as she nodded. “Hey…” He reached out to touch her arm and just missed her sleeve. “You okay?”

Scully stiffened, her shoulders straightened and she forced a tight smile as she paid him a single look that was hard for him to read. “Fine, thanks.” She focused on the stairs and started up them.

She would leave it at that, she didn’t want to talk about it. She saw the look in the goat’s eye. They woke the goat so the animal was afraid when it died. She didn’t understand it, but it left her unsettled and uneasy. Scully wondered if they were heading toward something dark and sinister that would rather be left undisturbed.

Chapter Text

His silent Scully was back. The walk home felt longer, it sure as shit was quieter. They shuffled along to rid blood from their shoes, stepped in any water they saw to help clear it out, to remove the soon to be stains. When they finally made it back, the sun was setting.

“Get in the truck,” he told her as he fished the keys from his pocket. He tossed his backpack in the back seat.

“What?” Scully stood several feet from him, holding her backpack by the top, sure she misheard.

“Let’s go.” Mulder said and indicated the truck with a nod of his head, then he climbed into the driver’s seat.

Scully listened, she placed her backpack in the backseat, and got in on the passenger side. She buckled up as Mulder left and headed out onto Main Street. She expected him to park outside of the diner or pizza place, figuring he was hungry while her appetite was far from returning. Instead, he drove straight out of town.

Her eyebrows drew together as she turned to him. “Where are we going?”

“Grabbing a drink,” he answered without glancing over.

“There’s a bar on the corner of…” Scully recalled the map, the local hangouts, the street names. “Lamont and Main.” They didn’t need to leave town to have a drink.

“I know,” he replied, but said nothing more.

Scully eyed him for a little longer, but he kept his full attention on the road. She noticed he was gripping the steering wheel rather tightly. She decided not to question the motives, not to ask if he was okay. She looked out her window instead.

She was two drinks in, he was nursing a beer and a plate of fries that he was picking at. She was growing warm and a little bothered by the fact that he kept watching her. If he had something to say, he should just say it. He looked at her like she was wounded and while what they experienced was horrible, she was fine.

“What are you thinking?” Mulder’s tone was low and she felt the rumble of it in her chest.

“About?” she asked.

“The town,” he said. “Suzi.” He took a pull of his beer. After what they had seen, things seemed grimmer now.

Scully averted her gaze, her tongue slid out to wet her bottom lip. She shook her head slightly. “I don’t know, Mul—” She silently cursed. “Scott. Perhaps she’s gotten into some trouble. What they had done… it was no joke. If she was trying to find the truth… she might have found her dead end.”

“Everyone denies her, but there has to be someone who can’t,” Mulder responded. “Other than––me. A boyfriend or crush, a best friend. Someone is missing her and might be willing to speak if they think we can help. If we could get in their good graces, we could find out what Suzi was doing, what danger was coming for her.”

Scully lowered her voice on her next words, not wanting to be overheard. “Or we could try to get into the group that slaughtered that goat and work it that way.”

“Doubt we’d be welcomed there,” he commented, but it was an interesting thought.

“It would take a long time if we could.” She looked around, waved at the waitress to signal for the check. “I think we should talk about this at home. We don’t know if there are prying eyes or ears here.” Even out of town, Scully didn’t trust that anyone here didn’t live in Promise.

Mulder nodded and took out his wallet to pay. He handed cash to the waitress and helped Scully up and out of the bar. He got the door for her and even opened the truck door for her as well. Mulder climbed in on the driver’s side and started for home as he debated their next steps.

It felt like they were at a dead end when it came to Suzi. How would they find a missing woman whose existence was denied? Was slaughtering a goat in an obvious kill room enough to prove something more sinister was going on? They needed to wait on the lab results for detection of human blood.

He glanced over at Scully and realized he had lost her again. Something was wrong, he wasn’t dense enough not to notice. Normally, he tried to let it ride out. He’d ask once and if she didn’t offer up an explanation, he’d let it slide and she’d be fine the next day. But she wasn’t fine now.

“You might feel better if you talk about it,” Mulder said and spared a glance at her again.

Scully snapped to attention and set her sights on him. “Talk about what?”

“You really haven’t been yourself since we came here and I don’t think it’s related to this case,” Mulder replied.

She wanted to deny it, but he wasn’t wrong. Scully regarded him for a moment. “You’re right. I’ve been in my head, but I’ll get out of it. I’ll be back to regular business.”

“Well, that’s not what I…” His breath left him slowly. “It might help to talk.”

“No, no, I’m fine,” Scully insisted. “We’ll get back, I’ll sleep this off. That Summer Festival is coming up, it’s bound to be a good place to see just what the town is made of. In the meantime, we’ll work on locating the men we saw at the slaughter.”

Mulder pressed his lips together. He felt he barely applied pressure and she closed right up. That wasn’t what he wanted. He wanted to be a confidant. “Scully…”

“Scott.” She hit that ‘t’ hard on the name. “I’m fine.”

Her attention went back out the window and Mulder knew he had to drop it. He couldn’t force her to talk, couldn’t force her to confide in him, but he wished she would. She seemed like she was hurting and why wouldn’t he want to try to make her feel better? She had often been the only person he could trust, so he didn’t understand why she didn’t regard him in the same manner.

The next few days were spent moseying around town, going through the house, and looking for evidence that Dale had been murdered. That Babs might have been as well. Scully felt they were grasping at straws. No one would talk to them, not beyond pleasantries. And they were still waiting on the results of the swabs she had taken.

But today was the day of the festival on Main Street. They were going early enough to catch the parade. They had both been on the lookout for the men who had slaughtered the goat, but hadn’t seen them around. The case was stalling and if they couldn’t find these men, Scully wasn’t sure what the next step would be, other than to stake out the cabin and wait for something else to happen.

“You ready?” Mulder asked as he peeked into Scully’s room. Once he saw she was fully dressed, he lingered in the doorway.

“Yes,” Scully answered without looking at him.

“Don’t shrug me off or elbow me when I hold your hand or put my arm around you,” he said it to be funny, but he was also serious. Over the last few days, he’d gotten an elbow or two. But they needed to be believable and that meant Scully needed to at least pretend she liked him.

She hummed in response and tugged at the hem of her dress, raising it up. Mulder’s eyes widened in surprise and he watched her secure a firearm to the holster around her thigh. His breath left him very slowly and as she lowered the end of her dress down, she lifted her gaze and their eyes met.

Mulder cleared his throat and turned away, sucked in a breath and attempted to calm himself down. He didn’t realize watching her secure a weapon to her thigh was going to turn him on. They weren’t carrying often, and it was usually Mulder who would. Scully often raised concerns about the townspeople spotting a gun, rumors spreading, and their cover being blown. She must have felt something might happen today and that’s why she was bringing her piece along.

He headed back downstairs and out the side door, wanting a little fresh air. He’d wait for her here, they planned to walk into town. There was dew on the grass and it was cool today, but the sun was out and it warmed him. He thought he was losing Scully on this case, but he was still fully in it. Even if they hadn’t caught much of a break yet, he knew it would come. He needed to be patient and keep the faith.

The screen door creaked open behind him and he turned as Scully closed both doors. She offered him a tight smile and he returned it. A parade and town festival with his girlfriend in his old hometown? What could be better than that?

He didn’t try for her hand yet. It was quiet on their street, but as they came closer to Main Street, the roads were becoming a bit more crowded. Once they hit Main, they found there were already many town goers with their chairs lined up on the sidewalk, children eager for the candy that would be tossed from the floats. Chatter and laughter filled the air.

The parade was starting early in the day and would end right around eleven, just in time for everyone to start looking for something to eat. There were food vendors and craft stalls, children’s games and live music. Scully’s hand found his and he looked at her and offered a smile.

She bit her lip to hide her own and looked away. There was a swell of music, of drums and trombones, trumpets, too. The local high school band starting the parade. Mulder headed up the sidewalk with Scully at his side. He kept his eye out as he looked at the faces in the crowd, looking for familiarity.

Occasionally they stopped and took a look as the floats began to pass. Businesses had decorated cars or trucks and some built elaborate or funny floats in truck beds or trailers they towed. Scully was disinterested in the parade, but she would scan every person on the floats before turning her attention back to the crowd, searching for the two men she could easily recall back into her mind.

She squeezed his hand three times. Mulder would have let one or two squeezes go and chalked it up to her being friendly, some fake romance even, but three seemed off, seemed more than being playful. He glanced at her and she was looking straight across the street at the crowd there.

Within the people standing and watching the parade was Baseball Cap, the man who had slaughtered the goat. Even with his ball cap on, Mulder knew it was him. He looked to Scully again then eyed the parade path. He had to make contact, get his name, any information about him. They couldn’t let him slip away.

“I’ll go around and talk to him,” Mulder said softly to her and she felt the hair stand up on the back of her neck at his closeness, his breathy words in her ear. “Stay here, keep eyes on him, and I’ll call you if I can’t find him.”

Scully only nodded in response and she watched Mulder briefly as he disappeared within the crowd. Her gaze trained back across the street at the man that was watching the parade while sipping from a small disposable coffee cup. He seemed to be alone, he wasn’t talking with anyone.

Mulder had to go pretty far up the street to find an opening to dash across the road to get to the other side. Then he wove his way back up through the crowd until he was around the area they saw the man in the cap. He looked across the street in an attempt to see Scully, but he didn’t. He wondered if their target moved.

He eyed the crowd as he weaved through it much slower, keeping his eyes peeled. He reached into his pocket and drew out his phone, but then he spotted the man, hands jammed into his jean pockets, his focus on the passing float of rainbows and leprechauns and bottles of beer.

“Hey,” Mulder said as he approached him. “Hey, you’re, uh… uh, Sam, right?”

“No, Carl,” the man replied and offered that toothy grin.

“Carl!” Mulder nodded and grinned. “That’s right! Don’t know where I got that Sam thing.”

“Carl Samson,” Carl told him and clapped Mulder hard on the upper arm.

“Yeah, yeah.” Damn, Mulder had a lucky guess. “I grew up here, thought you looked familiar. I came back to town to clear out my ol’ man’s house out.”

“You need a junker?” Carl asked, his eyes widening a bit. “I work at the junkyard. You need someone to swing by and pick stuff up? Clear it out?”

“Nah, not yet,” Mulder dismissed him, but he wasn’t done with him. “Still goin’ through it. Scott.” He offered out a hand.

“Scott,” Carl repeated and shook his hand. “Evans, right? Your dad was Dale.”

Mulder nodded and released Carl’s calloused grip. “Yep… yep.”

“Yeah, good guy,” Carl said, mirroring Mulder’s nod. “Saw him at the bar every so often. Cool dude. Sorry ‘bout him.”

“Yeah, thanks.” Mulder forced a friendly smile.

“Well, if you need anything, I’m always at the junkyard, the one on the hill, sunrise to sunset just about,” Carl told him.

“Cool, thanks, man,” Mulder replied. “ I’ll probably be in town for about a week or so. What’s that bar you go to? Does it have a good night scene? I’ll be lookin’ for somewhere to chill out later.”

“Yeah.” Carl nodded and shoved his hands into his front jean pockets again. “O’Leary’s. I’m always there the weekends.”

“Is that the one on the corner of Lamont and Main?” He only remembered the street names because Scully just said it the other day.

“No, Seaton and Charles, just up Charles a bit.” Carl explained and glanced at the parade as the people beside them whooped in delight and a young girl marching with a drum smiled over their way.

“Thanks,” Mulder told him, bringing his attention back to Carl. “Now I gotta go find my girlfriend. Lost her in the crowd. She got distracted by the candy.”

Carl laughed. “Good luck. Parade doesn’t have too much left, I don't think. It always ends with the boy and girl scouts.”

“Cool,” Mulder replied with another friendly smile. “Catch you later.”

He started back up the crowd as he looked for a good spot to cut across again. At least they finally got something. And a bar would be the perfect place to meet with Carl again. He could get some drinks into him and hope he might spill some info on the goat, the town, the cabin. Anything that would set this case into the right direction.

Mulder was looking across the street for his opening and didn’t see the man in uniform step back. They made contact, Mulder bumping hard into him, and he reached out to steady them both.

The man was shorter than himself and Mulder was eye level with the badge on his hat that read: Chief. Mulder cleared his throat and took a step back to take in the appearance of the sharp dressed man with thinning orange hair. He seemed too small for the role of a police chief. Small, dark eyes, a nose that was bulbous at the bottom, thin lips.

“Alright?” the police chief asked and Mulder nodded.

“Yeah, sorry ‘bout that,” Mulder apologized. “Wasn’t looking where I was going.”

The chief’s eyes widened. “Scott?”

“Yeah?” It was starting to freak him out that everyone knew him, and not only that, but believed he really was Scott. He wondered how often he had been talked about since they arrived in this tiny town.

“Chief Buddy Pollack,” the man shook his hand, tightly, as if to make up for his stature, to prove his strength even when his clothes seemed a size too big. “Welcome back to town. How’s it being home?”

“Different,” Mulder answered, trying out the answer. “Good. Loving this so far.” He indicated the parade. “Nostalgic being here.”

“I bet.” Buddy nodded and planted his hands on his hips. “The town doesn’t look too different though, right?”

“Well, no.” Mulder forced a laugh. “I was still able to navigate it, same as before. Like stepping back in time.” For some reason, Buddy was setting off his alarm bells. Something about him just wasn’t sitting right.

“Good, good.” Buddy had a pressed smile and he nodded again. “You enjoy the day now, alright?”

“Yeah, you too,” Mulder replied, keeping a fake smile on his own face.

Buddy tipped his hat at him and went up the sidewalk. Mulder let out a breath and looked for Scully. Their eyes met across the parade and a float blocked his vision of her. He was just going to have to dart across as soon as it passed. There was a clearing and he went for it, banging into someone’s chair once he had made it to the other side.

“Sorry!” Mulder called as an old woman scolded him, and then he lost himself within the onlookers and found his Scully.

“Who was that?” she asked immediately, eyebrows drawn together, a look of concern on her face.

Mulder glanced back. “Some old lady trying to swat at me––”

“I meant the police officer,” she clarified.

“Chief Buddy Pollack,” Mulder told her and met her eye. “Knew me, asked me if I enjoyed being back in town.”

Scully took a sweeping look around to spot the police chief, but didn’t see him among the parade crowd.

“I don’t know if I trust him,” Mulder added, speaking much lower and Scully only nodded in response. “But the parade will be over soon and we can look out for the other man at the cabin. Though he seemed more rough and tumble. Not sure a Summer Festival is his thing.”

“Yeah, but it’s all about appearances here, isn't it?” Scully replied.

The crowd began to cheer as the girl and boy scouts marched past and waved. Mulder watched for a moment, then leaned down closer and spoke softly near her ear.

“Let’s keep exploring once the parade is through,” he said. “We can eat and keep an eye out. What do you think… babe?”

Scully rolled her eyes, and then she drew in a deep breath, and plastered a smile to her face. She looked up at Mulder with an adoring gaze and he seemed startled by it, especially when she looped her arm through his and gave a tug.

His expression relaxed and he was more than happy to hop into their roles. This is what he asked for, after all. But he couldn’t forget their task at hand and couldn’t forget that this was only make believe.

After browsing the Summer Festival, drinking lemonades and eating hamburgers, they went up and down the street several times. Scully occasionally stopped at the seller booths, looking at art or jewelry, feigning interest as she played her part.

Eventually, the crowds began to thin and Mulder led them toward Dale’s house. He told Scully the entire conversation with Carl now that they were away from everyone else. He was pleased when she agreed they should go to the bar tonight, that getting Carl intoxicated might help them.

But her nerves were bothering her, she couldn’t relax, couldn’t enjoy the sunny day, nor put herself at ease. They only managed to locate one of the two men that killed that goat. She also wanted to get a look at the town mayor, but she had yet to see her. There was a photo of her in the historical center. Geraldine Fisk.

Scully wanted to lay eyes on her, to look her in the eye, to ask her what the hell was going on in her town. To demand answers about the alleged mine fire, the deaths, the slaughtering of animals in remote wooden cabins. Mayor Geraldine Fisk was the woman in charge, but her town wasn’t as idyllic as it pretended to be, and as Scully had begun to learn, the people in charge were often the most deceitful.

But she never saw the mayor, which seemed odd since the rest of the town was there. They even ran into Todd and she had a proper introduction to his wife and their two children. That was the other odd thing in this town. Perfect married couples with two perfect children were everywhere. And the children were well groomed in carefully constructed outfits to compliment one another, to compliment their parents. Scully felt like she was in a living dollhouse. This was what spooked her.

When they returned to their temporary home, Scully went back to work upstairs and found several boxes of old records in the closet. She spent far too long looking through them, one at a time, pulling the vinyls from their paper sleeves, placing them back between the slats of cardboard. She wondered if there was a record player somewhere. They made good progress, but the closet was still packed top to bottom. Perhaps one was wedged in there somewhere.

“We’ll be going to the bar soon.”

Scully jumped in surprise and looked to the doorway. Mulder was there, leaning against the frame. She was holding a Todd Rundgren album in her hands and she added it to the pile as she turned from him. He entered the room and stopped beside her, held an opened bottle of beer at her eye level.

“For you,” he said.

Scully tilted her head up and met his eye. “Why?”

“Loosen you up before we go,” he answered.

She fixed him with a glare. “Scott…”

“You’ve seemed a little high strung,” Mulder told her with a shrug. “We gotta get in the ‘in crowd.’ We gotta be cool tonight. If you look all… rigid…”

“I can stay here.” She grabbed the cold bottle from him. “Go through the house, top to bottom.” Have a drink, find the record player.

“No, come out with me,” he nudged her shoulder. “I want you there.”

“You don’t think I’m gonna mess up the case?” she asked with a lift of her eyebrow.

He softened a touch. “Of course not,” Mulder assured her. “Have a beer and we’ll leave soon. Just a casual night, Amy.”

A soft sigh left her parted lips and he heard it, but didn’t acknowledge it. Something was wrong and he’d get to the bottom of it, but he knew if he pushed too hard, she would clam up entirely. Mulder let her be, but glanced back to see her take a drink. He headed to his room to freshen up, thinking it was a good sign that she took his advice.

The bar was a bit darker than Mulder was expecting and he was surprised such a grim place would be within the city limits. There was rock music coming from the speakers, the air was smokey and the place smelled like cigarettes, beer, and stale piss. He regretted encouraging Scully to come out tonight.

But Carl was here and that was all he could ask for. He was seated at a high top table at the back of the bar, half a glass of beer in front of him. Near his table was another one with beers on top and a couple of strong looking guys playing darts. He wondered if Carl knew them, it was hard to tell.

Mulder ordered three beers and asked they be dropped off to Carl’s table, then he took Scully by the hand and led her over. She had already been ogled by three separate men so hopefully the hand holding would help show she was off limits.

“Carl, great rec,” Mulder said as he got closer to the table.

“Hey, Scott.” Carl gave a smile, he seemed much more relaxed here. “How’s it goin,’ man?”

“Good, good,” Mulder answered. “This is my girlfriend, Amy.” Mulder showed her off and Scully flashed a smile that made his heart thump. He cleared his throat and turned back to Carl to distract himself. “This is Carl. He said he’d get us a good deal at the junkyard.”

“Nice to meet you,” Scully extended a hand toward the other man.

“You, too.” Carl palmed her hand for only a moment before dropping his hand back down. “You enjoying your stay in town?”

“Oh, it’s really nice,” Scully said, nothing but warmth in her tone. Reel them in, hook ‘em, and maybe she’ll find some truth. “I’m glad we were here for the Summer Festival.”

“Yeah,” Carl agreed with a nod. “One of the best times of year. The Summer Festival and then the 4th will be here soon. And the kids really love the parade.”

“Yes, the parade was great,” Scully oozed friendless and slid into the empty seat beside him. She glanced at Mulder and saw his surprise, but she focused on Carl. “I stopped by the museums, too, all the old coal miner stuff, Shelby Manor. I was sad to learn they don’t offer tours anymore.”

Carl drained his beer and nodded. “Oh yeah, the upkeep was hard. We had to haul some stuff out to the junker. I think they’ve been sayin’ someone wants to fix it up, but in the meantime, it’s just a spooky ol’ haunted house.”

“I’d love to spend a night there.” Scully leaned in a little closer to him. “Did you ever do the ghost tours?”

“Nah, not really,” Carl answered as his cheeks began to redden. “They always bring in a crowd of people in the fall to do the ol’ mine tours, house tours, the town decked out in Halloween stuff, you know? I guess not so much anymore though with them putting them on hold.”

“So, then what other spooky stuff happens in town without the haunted houses, Carl?” Scully asked, using a flirty tone, not too intense though because her ‘boyfriend’ was sitting right there.

Carl laughed a little and the beers were dropped off. Carl smiled at the waitress while Mulder picked up his own glass of beer and took a sip.

“Oh, you know… they say the ol’ mines are haunted, but it’s illegal going up there,” Carl told her. “They stopped those mine tours a while back. Guess it wasn’t safe.” He took a long drink from his beer.

“But people still go to see them,” Mulder cut in. “Secluded place like that, probably draws in the more adventurous type. That’s what my old friend said.”

Carl shook his head and set his beer down. “Uh, yeah, I don’t know anything about that. Who’s your old friend?”

“Her name is Suzi,” Mulder went in for the kill, watching Carl for any sign of recognition. “She grew up here too.”

“Huh.” Carl scratched at his neck and didn’t make eye contact. “Don’t know her.”

“Yeah, I hear that a lot.” Mulder got what he needed, that was a tell, but he wasn't going to hit him up too hard just yet. He’d come back to it. “They got food here?”

“Just nuts and pretzels, that kinda stuff,” Carl told him.

“And darts.” Mulder nodded to the four guys playing off to their right. “These your friends?”

“Oh, yeah, we’re the usual crowd,” Carl replied. “Lemme introduce you.”

Carl got up, taking his beer with him, and led Mulder over while Scully remained with her beer, sipping slowly. There weren’t many other women in here, but that didn’t bother her so much. She could handle herself. She found the crowd interesting. They seemed like outliers, like they didn’t belong in this town at all.

Scully picked up her beer glass again as Carl returned to his seat beside her. He offered a tight smile and drank his beer. She mirrored him and did the same. She cleared her throat as she set the glass down and kept her gaze set upon him.

“How come you’re not playing with your friends?” Scully asked, keeping her tone innocent and sweet. Mulder had joined the guys and was chatting them up.

Carl shook his head a little. “Not in the mood tonight.”

“You okay?” Scully asked. She was being fully Amy here, a concerned and caring nurse, worried about the well being of others. After what she saw Carl partake in, the murder of that goat, Scully wouldn’t have been so sympathetic.

“You don’t wanna hear my troubles,” he said with a slight smile and another shake of his head.

“Don’t mind,” Scully replied. “We’ve all got troubles.”

“Yeah…” Carl grew silent, took another drink of his beer, then held back a burp as he set the glass down. “My girl broke up with me. Can’t seem to figure out how to win her back, if I should even try.”

“Do you love her?” Scully asked.

“Yes,” he answered without hesitation.

“Then you should try,” she told him.

“She won’t want me back,” Carl said. “This is, like, the third time. She says ‘bout how I need to grow up but, damn. Like. I work, I pay bills, I do what I gotta, I do right. I thought that was supposed to be enough.”

Scully was trying to make heads or tails of the conversation, piece together what parts to focus on, how best to draw out more information. She placed a gentle hand on his forearm.

“It sounds like you’re doing everything right,” she spoke gently. “What caused the break up?”

“It was a dumb joke. Took it too far, she said.” He sighed and used the arm Scully was touching to grab his beer and take another drink.

“Well, whenever I’m feeling down or I get mad at Scott, flowers usually work with a sincere apology,” Scully told him. “Especially when you’re in love.”

She looked over at Mulder and almost felt like what she said was true. Looked at him as if she did love him. But didn’t she? In a way. In that way that she did care for him. Caring and loving intertwined sometimes, didn’t it?

“You remind me of my sister.” Carl’s words cut through her thoughts.

Scully looked back over at him and eyed him for a moment. She understood the look about him, the far away kind of look in his eye, the listlessness there.

“When did she die?” Scully asked softly.

“Uh…” Carl let out a slow breath. “Yeah, uh, four years ago. Accident.”

She wondered what kind of accident, but instead of asking, her next words came out rather quickly. “My sister passed away, too. She was murdered.” Scully wasn’t sticking to her own script. She would have to remember she added her sister to Amy’s background.

“Oh, wow.” Carl’s eyes widened in surprise. “That’s awful.”

“Yeah.” Scully nodded and sipped her beer, set it down gently. “It’s been hard ever since. Hard without her. She was older than me, looked out for me.”

“Jessie was my kid sister,” Carl’s tone was lower. “I should have been doing the looking out.”

“I’m sure you were enough,” Scully replied. “Sometimes it’s just… out of our control.” She took another drink of beer, she was nearing the bottom of her glass.

“Yeah,” Carl agreed and finished his. He set his glass down, signaled the waitress for another for him and Scully. “Hard around here.”

“You mean in this town?” Scully asked, knowing she had to tread lightly, not push too hard, just gently pry. “We had fun at the festival.”

“Yeah…” Carl nodded, glancing around at everyone except Scully. “We’ve got flashy parades, we got nice…” He cleared his throat. “But uh… you know, there’s… other things.”

“Dark things?” she guessed.

“I… can’t.” Carl stared down at the table. “I’ve said too much already.”

Scully was losing him. She had to go in for the kill here. She placed a hand on his arm again and waited until he glanced at her. She met his eye and spoke softly.

“You don’t have to suffer alone.”

The waitress approached with their beers and Scully offered up a tight smile in thanks. She removed her hand and picked up her beer glass, holding it up toward Carl to indicate she wanted to toast. Carl sat up a little straighter and grabbed his glass, clinking it to Scully’s before taking a drink.

She sipped from her own, knowing she needed to pump the breaks on drinking. She was definitely feeling a buzz. Scully’s gaze flicked to Mulder as she drank. He was watching her and then he quickly busied himself with declaring a best three outta five on the darts.

Carl had taken a long drink from his beer and the glass clunked when he set it on the table. Scully placed hers down as she debated prompting him again.

“She was gettin’ in with the wrong crowd,” Carl spoke before she could. “I should have been looking out for her better. I was already in the wrong crowd, didn’t think they’d go for her, too. Scott was lucky to leave when he did. They always come ‘round for someone, for something. You gotta pay if you wanna play.”

“Who paid for Scott?” Scully asked.

Carl shrugged, let out a breath. “Guess his dad. His stepmom. The only way out is to leave, but it ain’t easy to go.”

“Did you try to get your sister out?” Scully responded, making sure to keep her voice calm and low, not too eager.

“Nah, she tried on her own and it…” Carl was lost for words, he hung his head. “They turned on her. I know they did.”

“Did someone hurt her?” Scully replied delicately.

Carl lifted his head just enough to peer at Scully under his baseball cap. “You can’t fight ‘em. They’re too powerful. They control everything. This town wouldn’t exist without them.”

“Who?” she prompted, her word soft enough that only Carl could hear it.

“I can’t.” He downed his beer and stood. “Sorry. Let’s have a couple shots, loosen up. I’ll hit the jukebox, too. We need some good music, good feelings in this place. We’re dragging us down.”

Scully watched him go and silently cursed. She was so close and now he was retreating. But maybe the shots would help, maybe if he got drunker, he might start spilling more truth. There was only one way to find out.

Scully was a little too drunk and she was trying to sober up. They made it home, somehow, she didn’t quite remember the drive.

Mulder had joined them at the table after she was already two shots in and while she was managing, she knew she was bordering on being too intoxicated. Mulder took over, realizing she needed assistance, and he got her a water and some food from the bar for her to munch on while he chatted Carl up.

Even as Carl drank more, he kept the conversation away from the things he had confided in Scully. The bar grew busier, the music was louder, and Mulder called it a bust. He had to get Scully back to the house because she was sipping on her beer and she shouldn’t drink anymore.

Mulder kept the windows down as they drove back to Dale’s house, hoping the cold air might help clear Scully’s head. She watched the town blur by and when they were parked at the house, Mulder helped her inside and to the living room where he gently set her on the couch.

Scully drew in some deep breaths, wishing she hadn’t gotten so drunk. She was tired and her stomach was a bit uneasy. It was a bad move, even if she thought it might have gotten Carl to open up again. She wondered if Mulder hadn’t been with them, if Carl would have told her more.

Mulder returned to her with a glass of water and crackers, pretzels, and little cheeseballs that were crunchy and coated in a bright orange powder. Mulder swore they soaked up alcohol. He stayed with her, sitting on the end of the couch, and she curled up on the rest of it, her back against his entire body, her head resting right at his shoulder. She smelled of the bar, of beer and cigarettes.

“You gonna tell me what he said?” he asked. Mulder thought she’d volunteer the information on the drive home, but she seemed out of it.

“Oh, it’s bad,” she said, her head pressing into him a little more. “They killed his sister.”

Mulder’s eyes widened. That’s what Carl said and she was only telling him now? “Who?”

“The bad people,” she answered. “The wrong crowd. He’s part of them, the wrong crowd. And they turned on her. And you left so they couldn’t get you, but they got your dad and stepmom, I guess, but it took them a while, didn’t it? Because you’ve been gone a while.”

“He told you all of this?” Mulder couldn’t believe they had this conversation with him right there at the bar, unaware of it all.

“He told me all of it,” Scully said firmly with a single nod.

“How did they kill her?” Mulder asked. “What happened?”

“Dunno.” She shrugged. “Accident. But probably not.”

“Okay…” Mulder was processing this. “I got invited out tomorrow to a beer and brats guy thing. One o clock, after ‘church.’”

“Church!” she exclaimed loudly, eyes widening, and then she continued in a whisper, “We should go to church. We need to see the mayor.”

“Why?” Mulder perked up. “Did Carl say she had something to do with it?”

“No, but I don’t trust her,” Scully commented with a frown. “We haven’t seen her and where did she go? Mayors go to church, don’t they?”

Mulder shook his head slightly. “I don’t know, Scully.”

“Shhhhhhhh,” Scully hissed out and turned enough to place a finger gently against Mulder’s lips. “Amy,” she reminded him.

Mulder shook his head slightly, shook her finger away, and carefully got up from the couch, letting her flop back on it. This night felt like it was straying into something else, somewhere he couldn't possibly go, not with her in this state.

“We should get you to bed,” he said.

“You’ll tuck me in, Scott?” she pouted.

“Uhhh…” Mulder rubbed at the back of his head. She was absolutely not in a right state. “Come on.” He leaned down and helped her up from the couch and onto two unsteady feet. He’d get her into bed, bring her water up. Mulder began to lead her toward the staircase.

“I feel like I’m in Wonderland,” Scully commented softly, using the banister and Mulder’s hand for support as she ascended the staircase. “The Mad Hatter, the Queen of Hearts. Nothing is right here.”

“Yeah, it’s unsettling,” he agreed as he guided her up the last step and toward her bedroom.

Scully’s fingertips gently coasted along the wall as she leaned into Mulder for support. He was still holding her hand as he brought her into her darkened bedroom and deposited her onto her bed. He took a sweeping look around and spotted her suitcase. He’d get her pajamas for her and then her water.

“I don’t wanna be alone,” Scully said. She was sitting on the bed, watching him.

“I’m right down the hall,” he assured her with a tight smile.

“And what if they come for me like the oysters,” Scully replied, her voice squeaking out.

“Oysters?” he repeated as he stopped looking for her pajamas and turned to her fully.

“And all the people in the town are being led away,” she continued, panic now rising in her tone. “Hand in hand, pepper and vinegar besides. Like Through the Looking Glass…”

Mulder realized how small she suddenly looked, somewhat hunched over, her hair out of place, intoxicated and worried. “Okay, Scully, okay…” He approached her, took her hand again as he sat beside her. “I won’t leave you alone.” He drew back the covers. She didn’t need the pajamas, she needed to sleep this off. “Here…”

Scully released his hand and scooted up toward the top of the bed. She slipped under the covers and looked back at Mulder. “Stay?”

“I’ll stay,” he promised.

She settled down, resting her head against her pillow. Mulder debated for a moment before he laid down beside her. She was turned in, facing him, and she scooted closer, pressing her face into his arm gently, breathing him in.

He stayed on his back, his eyes open, stealing glances at her until her breaths finally slowed, deeper breathing taking over. He scooted back as he turned onto his side toward her. Mulder looked at her, studied her face, her cheeks still pink from the alcohol, her brow furrowed a touch. He prayed she wouldn’t be hungover tomorrow, he felt responsible for her current state, and he kissed her forehead as if that could be the cure.

Mulder slipped from the bed and went down the hall, to the spare room, and flicked on the light. He glanced back at Scully's room, he could see her through the doorway. He stepped inside and looked around until he spotted the stacks of books beside the garbage bags of books.

He knelt down and quickly sorted through the stacks, looking for Alice in Wonderland, but stopped when he spotted a book with a girl in blue on the cover, pressing on a mirror, the title above it read: Alice, then Through the Looking Glass.

It was less dusty than the others, she had thumbed through this, he was sure of it. He flipped through himself, having read the book only once, maybe, a very long time ago. He didn’t remember any of it, but he remembered some of the first book, of the movie. But he was looking for oysters and he passed it initially, then caught it on his second browse through. 'The Walrus and The Carpenter.'

Mulder read through it, twice actually, and looked toward the wall that separated him from Scully. She was onto something. The bizarre town, a bizarre day in the story with a sun and a moon both on display. A carpenter and walrus leading away tiny oysters, innocent, too dumb to realize they’re being lied to and led to their deaths.

But the difference between the characters––a walrus full of sorrow, remorseful, and the carpenter, full and content, leading the charge without worry. If they found their walrus here in town, they could find their carpenter, too.

Chapter Text

Scully awoke alone, buried within the blankets and too warm. Her tongue felt thick and sticky and she groaned softly as she recalled last night. She was too out of sorts to have been drinking, it was a bad call, and she was concerned she embarrassed herself in front of Mulder.

She forced herself from the bed and ignored the very slight thump thump in her head. She winced slightly as she remembered asking Mulder to share her bed with her. She wasn’t sure if he had or not, she had fallen asleep quickly.

Scully found him in the kitchen, sitting at the table, with several photo albums in front of him. He was flipping through, making note of the faces he spotted, trying to see if anyone looked familiar to him. If he could draw some connections to Dale and Babs and others they had come across. It could lead to some clues.

“Morning,” he greeted with a soft smile, glancing up at her as she stepped into the kitchen.

“I’m sorry,” she said. “For last night. That was very unprofessional.”

Mulder stood and moved toward the counter to pour her a mug of coffee. “I feel responsible, offering you a beer beforehand, not looking after you while we were there.”

“It’s not your job to look after me,” Scully replied.

“Of course it is, babe.” She fixed him with a look which he ignored. Mulder offered the mug of coffee to her. “How’s the head?”

“Okay.” Scully began fixing her coffee to her liking as Mulder looked her over.

She was disheveled this morning and it was distracting in a way he didn’t like, in a way that reminded him they were a couple and this was his to see, and always would be as a proper couple. A side of Scully that was never his, would never be.

“What’s your plan, Scott?” she asked when he didn’t say anything more.

“Beer and brats,” he reminded her.

“Oh, no.” Scully frowned and glanced at the time. “I wanted to go to church.” They would be late.

“She won’t be there,” Mulder replied and resumed his spot at the table, though he’d have to wrap it up soon to make it to the hangout.

“How do you know?” Scully asked and joined him at the table.

“Called up our buddy Carl,” Mulder said. “Told him you lost your wallet and asked if he saw it at the bar after we left. Then I asked him about the town meetings. Told him you were interested in them in a historical way, asked when they were, where they were, if the mayor was there. He was flustered and told me they were held in the municipal building, but he didn’t know when the next would be because the mayor needed to schedule it. She’s been sick. Apparently she’s not made appearances in over a month. And before that, they were very sparse.”

Scully’s eyes widened slightly. “Is she missing, too?”

“Don’t know.” Mulder flipped the cover closed on the photo album. “Just another part of the mystery, isn’t it? I’m going to make nice with the guys at beer and brats, try to get in further. Maybe see if any of them had someone die. Gonna stop by the library after and look at the newspaper archives for more information on Jessie Samson.”

“Want me to come?” she asked, even though she was nowhere near ready. “Or should I wrap up in the spare room? We’re nearly through.” And after digging through books and records, sets of old china, mothball smelling clothes, and vintage train sets, they’ve wound up with a whole lot of nothing.

“You can finish here,” he suggested. It seemed clear that women weren’t exactly welcomed to the beer and brats. “I’ll call you if I come across anything that can steer this in a better direction.”

“We’re hitting dead ends,” she stated.

“There’s still avenues to explore,” Mulder told her. “Too many mysteries. The deaths in town, Suzi and the mayor missing, the need to ‘do right.’ Do you think doing wrong gets them killed?”

“I doubt that, Mul—Scott.” Scully was beginning to wonder if it was a lot of coincidences, but nothing of purpose, nothing being forced into action.

“You’re the one who told me Jessie was killed by some group,” Mulder replied.

“I know.” The vague memory washed back into her mind as soon as he mentioned it. “But we have no proof and we don’t even know who is in this group other than Carl and likely that man that was with him at the cabin.”

“Wouldn’t be surprised if it was some of the guys from last night,” Mulder said. “Most should be at this cookout thing. I’ll try to get answers.”

“Be careful,” she warned. Scully didn’t like that she wouldn’t be there with him, but she had to trust Mulder would be safe. He could handle himself and it didn’t sound like it would be dangerous. They would be outside in front of nosy neighbors.

“I will,” Mulder assured her. “You want something to eat?” He would make her something, be fashionably late.

Scully waved him off as she stood from the table. “I’m going to shower first, you can go. I’ll see you later. Lock the door on the way out and check in. She left before he could reply and he remained there, listening to the soft sounds of the stairs creaking as she went up them.

Mulder wanted to offer something to her, some comfort or care after last night. Anything that would have brought a smile in his direction, but he faltered on finding the words.

That was fine, it was okay. He needed to focus and get in the zone of being Scott. He had to fit in with the guys and he hoped it wouldn’t be too much of a test on his acting abilities. But Mulder felt Carl was a weak link, their ticket in. He spilled a lot to Scully and if they could work him a bit more, if he could, maybe the truth would begin to reveal itself.

Scully paused and turned down the music. She found the record player in the back of the closet, it still worked, and she had put on some tunes to work to, but she thought she heard a knock, and it sounded again.

She peered carefully out the window, but she couldn’t see anyone at the door. Scully got up and headed downstairs to the back door. She found it interesting that the person came to the back door rather than the front.

Scully opened the door to see a familiar face. She offered a smile. “Todd, hello.”

“Hi…” Todd started to smile, then he winced slightly. “I’m sorry, I’ve forgotten your name.”

“Amy,” she reminded him kindly, playing her part.

“Yes, sorry.” He glanced past her toward the kitchen. “I’m looking for Scott.”

“He’s out right now,” Scully said, though she was sorry he was. She wanted to know why Todd was here.

“Oh.” Todd nodded. “Okay.”

“Is there something I can help you with?” She went for it. Scully stepped back, widening the space between the door and the frame. “Come inside.”

“Sure, thanks.” Todd stepped in and glanced around before bringing his gaze back to Scully. “I wanted to check in with him, with you both, I guess. I was wondering when you’d be leaving.”

“Is it not okay we’re here?” she asked with a lift of her eyebrows. It was clear they weren’t welcome, but she would continue to play the role of an innocent, sweet girlfriend.

“What?” Todd’s eyes widened a bit and he raised both hands. “No, no. Of course you’re welcome to be here. It was just… I mean, clearing the house out…” He looked around again. “The house is left to both of us. I wanted to talk to Scott about selling it and splitting the profit. But we’d need to… clean it up a bit.”

“Right.” She nodded. “Well, I’ll mention it to Scott when he returns.”

“Did he say where he was going?” Todd asked.

“Yes,” Scully answered easily with a slight laugh. The question would be ridiculous under normal couple status because why wouldn’t he? But from Todd, it seemed suspicious, nosy even. “To meet with some of the guys in town, some kind of cookout, I think? He mentioned beer.”

“Ah, yes, there’s usually several barbecues to attend on Sundays,” Todd replied. “I must be heading out to one, too, actually.” He stepped back toward the door.

“Can I ask you something?” Scully said.

Todd stopped with his hand on the doorknob. He turned to look at Scully and shifted his weight from one foot to the other. “Um, sure.”

“You’re on the town council, right?” she asked.

He nodded. “Yes.”

“Is the mayor okay?” Scully replied, keeping her tone full of concern as her eyebrows drew together.

“What do you mean?” Todd shifted, his expression turning serious.

“I’ve heard she’s been ill,” Scully explained. “I thought I would be able to meet her at the festival, but I didn’t see her there. I’m very into history, and learning about the town has been fun while we’ve been here. I was looking forward to meeting her. I just hope she’s all right.”

“Uh, yeah, yeah, she’s all good. Personal matters and such.” Todd cleared his throat and forced a smile. “We’re glad you’re enjoying the town. It’s our own little piece of heaven right here in Pennsylvania.”

“I can see that.” Scully put on her own smile. “Almost makes me want to convince Scott to buy this house and stay here. Seems like a nice little town to do right in.”

Todd’s smile faltered and Scully knew she got him. Everyone said the same thing, over and over again. They were all trying to ‘do right’ and maybe that meant covering up deaths. If so, Todd was in on it, too.

“Right. Yeah.” Todd turned the knob and yanked the door open. “Anyway, I’ll see you, Amy.”

“Bye, Todd.” Scully gave a slight wave and closed the door behind him.

Mulder parked his truck at the back of the house, feeling defeated. His venture out was a bust. The guys at the cookout didn’t give him any new information, and to make matters worse, Chief Buddy Pollack was there, dressed down in khakis and a striped shirt, and Mulder was certain he was being watched the whole time.

It felt like a set up, a way for the men there to pry into his life, to ask him when he was leaving, if he would be coming back. Carl was acting differently to him, too. He wasn’t as chatty as the night before and he was practically avoiding him.

Mulder stepped into the kitchen and found Scully there, fixing herself a sandwich. He stopped just inside the doorway, watching her profile as she glanced over, a bit of hair falling in her line of sight. She tucked the hair back and offered him a smile.

It was the domesticality of this that he was missing out on. Coming home to a woman, one that smiled at him like that. He glanced away from her and cleared his throat as he closed the door.

“Didn’t go well?” she asked.

“Nah.” Mulder shook his head and pressed his glasses up the bridge of his nose. “They want me out of town. Chief Pollack was there too and it felt like he was keeping an eye on me. I didn’t find anything on Jessie and her death either. There was a tiny obituary with no real information.”

“That’s too bad,” Scully commented, wishing it hadn’t been a total bust because Mulder looked so dejected. “Your brother stopped by.” She cut the sandwich in half and offered a half out to him. He shook his head, he had eaten at the barbecue. “He asked me when we were leaving.”

“Guess we wore out our welcome,” Mulder commented. He moved toward the fridge to grab a bottle of sweet tea.

“Guess so.” Scully took a bite of the sandwich and chewed slowly, then swallowed. “Todd wanted to know if you wanted to sell the house.”

“I’ll relay that back to Scott,” Mulder assured her and set his bottle of tea down on the counter. He was the one that called to check in with him, to ask if he heard from Suzi at all.

“I also made a comment about doing right to Todd,” Scully told him, watching as that piqued Mulder’s interest. “He seemed to have a reaction, but no comment. He might be in on it, too. Whatever it is.”

Mulder was nearly convinced everyone in town was in on it at the rate this was going. He just needed to find the missing pieces to bring it all together. 

He looked to her as she continued to eat, oblivious to his stare. How was it that things felt so different here? He should have been completely focused on the case, but then he’d see her, like that, a normal little moment, one she’d had hundreds of times by herself, in her apartment, in a life she didn’t share with anyone else.

Her gaze lifted to him and Mulder felt his cheeks instantly warm as he felt like she caught him, like she knew what he was thinking.

“Do you wanna go to the haunted Victorian house with me?” he asked and grabbed his tea bottle. “Shelby Manor? Heard that was the only one that’s really and truly haunted.”

“It’s off limits,” Scully reminded him, her eyebrows drawing together.

“When has that ever stopped me?” He flashed a smile and she rolled her eyes.

Mulder parked in the back alley behind Shelby Manor. He didn’t want to draw any attention since they were trespassing. He made sure they had flashlights, then led the way to the house. Scully was at his side as she eyed the building.

It was three stories with a veranda all the way around the first floor. The house was painted a burgundy color with dark green shutters and a steep roof. There was caution tape around the perimeter and a sign advising against trespassing.

Mulder continued on toward the back door while Scully began to slow. “How are you going to get in? It’s been closed for tours and boarded up.”

The curtains were drawn in most windows, but some had big, thick planks of wood nailed across them. The screen to the back door wasn’t closed, it had a cut in the top of the screen, and the solid brown door behind it had several locks attached to the outside.

Mulder slowed and planted his hands on his hips as he eyed the house. “I’ll find a way. It’s weird they closed a moneymaker, so it’s worth checking out.” He started around the side, checking out the windows at ground level and pressing on them.

Scully followed after him, a frown on her face. “It’s been deemed unsafe, you shouldn’t go inside.”

“What do you think they’re hiding?” he asked, an excitement lighting up his eyes. Mulder crouched down and pushed at a window that was half hidden behind a thorny overgrown bush. It gave way. “Aha, found it. We’ll just slip right inside.”

She shook her head. “I don’t know. What if you can’t get back out?”

“I’ll drag something over to stand on.” Her words caught up to him and Mulder looked over at her. “You’re not coming in?”

Scully's mind flashed back to the cabin basement and she was ill over the thought of what could be in that house. “I, uh…”

“I can go alone,” Mulder said, sensing that she was uncomfortable. “You stand guard out here.”

She shook her head. “No, I should go with you. I’m your partner—”

“And I got it, Amy,” Mulder assured her. “I’ll be in and out real quick. We should just make sure there’s no hidden secrets, or people, inside.”

Scully folded her arms across her chest and watched as he pressed on the window and it swung in, hinged at the top. Mulder knelt on the ground and turned around, opting to go in feet first, scooting back on his belly until he dropped down into the musty basement.

Mulder turned his flashlight on and examined the space. He was in a smaller room with concrete floors and cinder block walls. There was broken furniture stacked off to the side. A set of dining chairs, a dresser without drawers, a heaping pile of baskets.

He continued out of the room and found himself in a much bigger part of the basement, much cleaner, too, with the stairs leading up to the first floor. In this room were tables with postcards and pamphlets and fliers of Shelby Manor, ready to be used or sold. They were collecting dust.

Stacked boxes were along the longest wall and they were labeled with various holidays. Mulder imagined they dressed the house up pretty nice for each holiday until they shut the whole thing down for whatever reason.

There was another open doorway and he made his way there, pausing before passing through it. This room was smaller and colder, the walls rough and crumbly. Mulder didn’t see anything in the room until his flashlight swept along the furthest wall. There was some sort of movement.

Likely a rat, but then there was a shuffling sound, distinct to human footsteps, both slow and unsure. Mulder aimed his flashlight higher and saw what looked to be some kind of scarecrow. It wore jeans and a long sleeve plaid shirt, completely sewn together, and its head was only a burlap stacked tied and stuffed.

It had the effort of hair on top, either the bag pulled apart or hay sticking out, he couldn’t tell, but the overall impression it gave him was of Scott’s father, Dale. The clothes, the thin hair on top, it looked like him in the photograph Scott had shown him. He said his father always dressed that way.

The creature took a shaky step toward Mulder as he stood frozen there, watching it, trying to decide if it was human underneath. Its arms outstretched, garden gloves on the end, and it reached for Mulder, who backed up further away from it.

“Who are you?” Mulder said. “What do you want?”

A hole formed on the burlap sack, a tear like a mouth, and it stretched wider and wider revealing nothing but darkness inside. Mulder backed into the wall and watched in shock as the body began to unstitch itself from the abdomen and up, spilling sawdust all over the floor, pouring from its insides like blood.

The body collapsed against him and Mulder thrust it away and ran. There were goosebumps on his arms and his heart was beating fast. He slipped as he crossed through the doorway, sliding on rocky footing. Mulder aimed the flashlight down to see rocks at his feet, but he realized it wasn’t rock, but coal.

He swiped some and clenched his hand around the pieces as he ran from the basement, back to the window that would take him back to Scully. He needed her in here, he needed her to see what was happening.

Mulder glanced behind him, but he wasn’t being followed by whatever that was. He shoved the coal into his pocket and moved the broken dresser to the window so he could climb on top and use it to aid in his escape back onto the ground and into fresh air.

“That was fast,” Scully commented. She was standing near the bush, in the dark, watching her surroundings to make sure no one was watching them.

“You’d be out fast too if you saw what I saw.” Mulder said as he stood to his feet and caught his breath. “It looked like Dale, but like a scarecrow. It came at me and then its body unraveled.”

“Unraveled?” Scully repeated with a lift of an eyebrow as she turned to face him. “Came at you how?”

“It walked toward me, arms outstretched and everything,” Mulder explained.

She let out a heavy sigh. “Oh, brother.”

“Then it undid itself and fell on me. It was full of sawdust.” Mulder reached into his pocket and brought out the coal, leaving it within his palm as he showed it off to her. “I slipped on coal on the way out that I definitely didn’t step on when I entered the room.”

“That’s not unusual,” Scully commented as she picked up a piece and examined it. “It’s a coal mine town. Coal was likely stored down there and used for the stove and to heat the house.”

“And the body?” He asked and shoved the coal back into his pocket. “That looked like Dale?”

Scully was quiet and chewed her lip for a moment while she debated if there was a gentle way to shoot this whole thing down. “I don’t know what you saw, I wasn’t there, but bodies don’t unravel. Maybe it really was an old scarecrow. Or a decoration for Halloween.”

“It wasn’t,” Mulder replied, frowning. “It walked. It was possessed. You can see it for yourself. Let’s go.” He stepped back toward the window.

Scully rolled her eyes, she couldn’t even stop it if she tried. “You came out of there like a bat out of hell and it sounded like you scared yourself. Is it really worth my time to look over some yard decoration?”

“Yes,” he insisted and knelt down at the window, pushing inward to open it.

She huffed out a sigh and knelt down beside him. There was no convincing him otherwise, that was for sure. They could go together and she could get a good ‘I told you so’ in. Mulder held the window up for her and Scully carefully lowered herself in through the window, landing on the dresser, which was preferably over a drop to the floor.

Once inside, she turned her flashlight on and aimed it around, checking out the surroundings and noticed the mouse droppings and cobwebs. She hoped she wouldn’t walk into one. Scully turned back toward the window, watching as Mulder slid through and climbed down from the dresser. Scully averted her gaze from his ass as his jeans hugged them on his descent.

She cleared her throat as she silently scolded herself, then placed her attention back on him. “Lead the way.”

Mulder nodded and turned on his flashlight, taking her into the main part of the basement, then to the small room. Scully was interested to see what Mulder’s ‘monster’ had been and she noticed the coal on the floor, a bit of sawdust, as they stepped into the room that was otherwise completely empty.

“Nothing is here,” Scully commented. “Literally nothing.”

“Yeah,” Mulder agreed and looked at her. “Because it moved on its own.”

She looked around again, aiming her beam against each of the walls, the ceiling and the floor.

“Mulder, if you swear you saw something in here and it’s gone now?” Her gaze met his. “Then I don’t think we’re alone.”

Mulder didn’t want to believe her, but she could be right. Maybe someone was in here, working to scare trespassers. Maybe even fixing up the house to potentially scare future ghost tour guests.

“Let’s explore,” he suggested. Now that she was in here, they might as well. “And find it.”

“Lead the way,” she repeated herself, her tone hinted at annoyance. Scully didn’t want to be in here and she was sure all they would come across was maybe a homeless person. Not that they saw anyone homeless in town however.

Mulder went for the wooden basement stairs, which were dusty and creaked with each step, the boards sagging just a little under his weight. Scully followed and stopped as Mulder opened the door and stepped out into the first floor of the house.

They were in the hallway. To the left was a kitchen and the right led them past a dining room and into the foyer where there was a grand staircase leading to the second floor. These steps were broken and rundown, damaged somehow, and Scully coasted her flashlight beam up them.

“They don’t look safe.” It wouldn’t be worth the risk of falling through and getting hurt. Or getting stuck on the second floor.

“Yeah,” Mulder agreed softly, feeling as if he spoke too loud, he might draw in the unwanted.

It was restored inside, old wallpaper and creaky wooden floors with stains and cracks. The furniture was dusty or covered in sheets, but the ones uncovered were gaudy with bold patterns, off putting colors. Mulder understood why the place was considered haunted. There was something about it that left him unsettled.

“I’ll check out the front, you check the back,” Scully suggested. She wasn’t worried, nor scared, and wanted to wrap this up so they could go back to Dale’s house.

Mulder went back toward the kitchen as Scully headed past the staircase. There was a large front entryway that had a tile floor and a large rug over the top. A conservatory with dead plants was to one side and on the other side of the entryway was a small sitting room. She scanned her flashlight around both rooms carefully and slowly, but saw no movement, no sign of life.

She went back into the hallway and over to a closed door. Scully tried the knob, it was unlocked, and she opened the door, bracing herself for someone to be there, but it was just a coat closet with cleaning supplies inside. She let out a slow breath and moved on.

There was a den, all closed in by deep brown paneled walls, an intricate red and gold rug, red leather chairs by the fireplace, and the couches were covered in white dusty sheets. There were several bookcases against the wall, but Scully didn’t enter the room further, and retreated back to the hall.

She listened now, waiting to see if she could hear anyone moving around, if she could hear anyone upstairs. All she got were the faint creaks from Mulder’s direction. He reappeared then and offered a slight smile.

“All clear,” he said.

“Same,” she replied.

“It could have gone upstairs,” Mulder suggested as he approached her.

“But we cannot,” she reminded him. “It isn’t safe.”

“But what if that’s where the answers are?” he asked and pointed his flashlight toward the stairs.

“Then we’ll have to solve this another way,” Scully told him. “We can’t be risking our lives or our safety by trespassing in a house that’s boarded up with signs outside detailing its danger. And I’m not convinced you saw anything down there, which is even more of a reason not to go up another floor and get hurt.”

Mulder opened his mouth to respond, but stopped when they heard voices. He looked up, then realized the voices were not inside the house, but outside. Several different voices, young sounding, passed by the windows, but the words were hard to understand.

Scully turned off her flashlight and Mulder did the same and they were in darkness.

“We should go,” Scully whispered. All they needed was for someone outside to hear them or see their lights and call the police. She didn’t want the police chief showing up. They needed to stay off of everyone’s radar.

Mulder nodded and walked on tiptoe back to the basement, still keeping his steps gentle on the stairs, and they creaked a little less with his effort. Scully followed, holding tight to the rail in an attempt not to fall. It was dark outside now, which meant it was even darker inside with all the windows either boarded up or covered with curtains.

As she stepped from the final step, she turned her flashlight on to aid her way back to their escape window. There would be no cobweb encounters for her. Mulder assisted her in getting back on the dresser and Scully lifted the window only enough to listen first, then peer out when she was certain it was clear.

She climbed back out and looked around one more time once she was back outside. They were still in the clear. Scully held the window open for Mulder as he joined her in the yard. He was silent on their walk back to the car. Scully debated taking his hand, acting as his girlfriend, being there for him when he was clearly upset.

“I know what I saw,” he muttered as they reached the truck. He opened the door for her, but she didn’t get in yet.

Scully met his eye. She had been harsh for a decent amount of this case, too wrapped up in her own problems, but when he was down, it was hard for her not to remind him that it was okay, that he wasn’t alone, even when she thought he was wrong.

“I know,” she replied softly and reached up to give his arm a comforting squeeze before climbing into the truck.

Scully didn’t believe him, however, there wasn’t enough proof. Now that she had seen how dark it was inside, she knew he could have easily thought he saw something. Maybe his eyes played tricks on him. In the dark, the eyes try to make out shapes, to create an image in the absence of light. It was a valid explanation, but she wasn’t going to tell him that now and kick him while he was down.

The lab results came back to Scully the following morning. No trace of human blood in the samples she took, only bovine and goat. She would be a liar if she said she wasn’t relieved. If it wasn’t human blood then there likely were never murders there which meant the town wasn’t as sinister as Mulder was convinced it was.

Though she knew the sample size was small. Perhaps they would have to go back and take more. If they could only find some damning evidence, they could have a whole Crime Scene Unit in there to take as many samples as they needed.

Mulder didn’t take the news about the lab results well and he headed out, going to Jeanne Besecker’s house to talk to her about her husband, Paul. It took him a while to find her address without coming off as too suspicious as to why he wanted to see her. Paul had been Dale Evans’ best friend and he, too, was dead.

There were so many deaths, people missing. How did Scully not see there was something more than some large coincidence going on? Something was killing these people. While Suzi’s mom had not wanted to talk with him at all, Mulder was hoping he might get some information from Jeanne.

But that proved to be a bust as well. He couldn’t even get the woman to open her front door. Mulder knew she was there, he saw the curtains flutter in the living room window, but she never came to the door. He left after waiting five minutes and noticed a neighbor from across the street peeking at him from his window. He gave a wave and the man that was there disappeared back into his house.

Maybe Scully was right. Maybe this undercover business was a waste. This was a community of tight lipped people only wanting outsiders for their money. But there were still mysteries that needed to be solved. Closed haunted houses with moving creatures in the basement, shady townsfolk who made him uncomfortable, missing mayors and missing people, mysteriously dead people.

It just meant he needed to do more work, more research, find other people to talk to. He still felt Carl was the weak link. The man seemed to practically avoid him at the beer and brats get together. If Mulder could get him alone, shoot the shit, maybe they could delve into other topics. Or maybe Scully could get him to talk. They had some rapport.

Mulder parked the truck behind Dale’s house and headed inside. Scully was at the table, reading up on the town’s history in the two books she purchased from the town center. They covered the founding of the town, the coal mines, and the progression of the town to present day, but there was nothing that helped their search.

She had a feeling they were about to be through here, coming up empty handed, despite all the strangeness. How could they prove murders without autopsies? And with no one to talk, to spill the secrets, they had no leads. The people of this town wanted them gone and without much more to go on other than Mulder’s fright and some ghost stories with no facts, they had nothing substantial to keep them here.

“How’d it go?” she asked.

“Nothing yet,” Mulder said, trying to hide his dismay with a forced smile. “Didn’t get to speak to her, but I think I might try to talk to Carl, maybe invite him by. He’s our best shot. Maybe he knows more about Shelby Manor. Or you can try to talk to him.”

“Maybe, but it might be time to start considering wrapping this up.” Scully checked her watch. She had been sitting for much too long. “I’m going to check the mail.”

It had been overflowing with mail when they first arrived and Scully had been clearing the mailbox out every few days. Mulder had let Scott know he would need to alert his father’s accounts of his passing.

Scully left through the front door and went down the porch and onto the path that would take her to the mailbox. The sun was bright in a deep blue sky that held no clouds. The air smelled of flowers, of someone’s laundry detergent, of fresh cut grass. She was warmed by the sun on her face and she could hear kids playing somewhere nearby, happy shrieks and squeals.

This could be hers, in another life. The stress of work as a doctor, a surgeon, and the quiet home life on a calm street. Retrieving the mail, a golden retriever at her side, a baby inside with a man that she would have married in a beautiful ceremony. A well worn and highly encouraged path. She went for the underdeveloped, prickly forest full of creatures and dark turns.

The mailbox creaked, it was rusted at the hinges, and Scully reached in to pull out all the junk mail. But within the adverts for life insurance and the local furniture store was a white envelope with a smudge of dirt on the front. It wasn’t sealed in the back, it wasn’t stamped or marked. This had been hand delivered.

Feeling uneasy, Scully glanced around, she was seemingly alone, and she wondered how long this had been in the mailbox. She hadn’t checked it in days. She switched the rest of the mail to one hand and quickly flipped the back of the white envelope so she could remove the folded piece of paper within.

The handwriting on the paper was in faded pencil, as if the person who wrote it hadn’t pressed very hard. The words were in cursive, scrawled hastily, or maybe it was poor handwriting, but the message was clear and foreboding.

You are not Scott
Millers midnight

Scully hastened her steps, right up the front porch, and into the house. She could hear Mulder in the kitchen, pots clanging around, the gas stove turning on with a click click whoosh.

“We have a problem.” She brought the note to him and the expression of worry on her face made him instantly concerned.

Mulder eyed the paper in her hand and took it, glanced it over, and breathed out slowly. He set it down on the counter and resumed his cooking.

“Well?” she prompted.

He remained silent, filled a pot with water, and placed it over the heat, then dug around in the cabinet to pull out a box of spaghetti.

“Mulder.”

“It’s Scott,” he reminded her, his tone firmer. “And I’m not going to worry about it.”

“Someone knows,” she said and her voice wavered slightly in her concern. “We can’t continue.”

“I won’t run.” Mulder turned to look at her. “We’re getting close, we’ve seen things. This is an X-File and I’m not leaving until we get to the bottom of it.”

“It’s not an X-File, it’s a missing persons case,” Scully replied. “And if we don’t leave soon, we might go missing, too. We’re not safe. We’ve been compromised.”

Mulder stopped his food preparation and finally looked over at her. “I was attacked by something that was not human. Maybe it’s because we’re getting so close that we got that note. We can’t run if they’re trying to make us leave town. That just means this is the right direction.”

Scully frowned, he did make a good point. If someone was trying to get them to leave, there had to be a reason for it.

“Maybe you’re right,” she said softly. “Except for that… thing you said you saw. You still can't believe that. It was completely dark in there.”

“It wasn’t completely dark and I certainly didn’t mistake seeing a dead man’s effigy come undone Seppuku style,” Mulder told her. “I certainly didn’t mistake sawdust for blood. We’re not leaving until we’ve figured this out.” He glanced at the note. “Guess we’re going to Miller’s at midnight.”

“What’s Miller’s?” she asked.

“It’s the auto place up Chervy Avenue,” he answered and dumped some spaghetti into the barely bubbling pot.

Scully watched his culinary mistake, but didn’t comment. She folded her arms over her chest and hugged herself. “Who do you think will be there?” It seemed they had a growing list of who it could be.

Mulder shrugged and glanced over at her. “Guess we’ll find out.”

The auto lot was dark when they pulled up at ten to midnight. The garage doors were shut and there were four cars parked there overnight, waiting to be tended to the next day. Mulder eyed the lot and decided their best bet was to park across the street, between two houses, and watch and wait to see who would show up.

But time passed and while cars drove up and down the street on occasion, no one came to the lot, no one parked near them on the street. It was well after two in the morning when Scully, trying to stay awake, looked at Mulder, watched his profile as his gaze never left the lot.

She wished this would work out, that they could solve it. Scully knew what it meant to him to find the truth, to solve the puzzle. Every time they closed a case, even if he only caught brief glimpses of what he imagined he had seen, convinced there was some monster, some unexplainable, whenever he fully believed what he saw, it vindicated him. It invigorated him. Every bust was a defeat that shrunk him down a touch until his excitement would spark again with some slaughtered cows with fang marks or slenderman sightings.

Scully didn’t want him to deflate again, but tonight had revealed nothing. “I don’t think anyone is coming.”

“Why would they tell us to meet them and not show?” he replied, his attention still focused across the street. “I want answers.”

“I do, too,” she agreed and then a realization hit her. “Mulder, what if no one was ever going to meet us tonight? What if they wanted us out of the house?”

Mulder looked at her now and his eyes widened. How could he have been that dumb? Once an hour had passed, it should have been obvious. He started the truck and pulled out, heading back toward Dale’s house. When they arrived, nothing seemed out of place, there were no unusual cars parked in the yard or on the streets.

They searched the house from top to bottom.

Mulder looked for wires, for cameras, while Scully started in the basement, all the way up to the second floor, room by room, closet by closet. Nothing seemed out of place and Mulder was nearly certain they weren’t bugged or being watched. Scully checked their documents and files to make sure they were still safely hidden and all present.

“I don’t know what to believe,” Scully said softly. She was standing in the kitchen now, with him. The lights were off, and she was peeking out behind curtains, glancing at the neighboring houses, looking for signs they, too, were peeking out. “Was it real or not?”

“Nothing’s been disturbed here,” Mulder replied. “Maybe whoever wanted to meet us got cold feet.”

Scully turned to face him, letting the curtain fall closed. “But who do you think it was?”

“I don’t know.” He shook his head slightly and met her eye. “Maybe Carl. Or Todd?”

“If it was Todd, why wouldn’t he have met us there?” Scully asked. “Or just come here?”

Mulder sighed softly. “I don’t know.” He glanced over at the clock on the oven. “I think we should call it a night.” It was nearly four in the morning.

She nodded in agreement, but she had a feeling she wasn’t going to fall asleep easily tonight. Perhaps Mulder was right, perhaps there was a mystery here that needed to be solved. It felt like things were slowly becoming more and more bizarre. How could she dismiss this case in its current state? Nothing made sense and she wouldn’t feel comfortable leaving without some form of a conclusion.

Chapter Text

The following morning, Scully was up somewhat early and decided to start her day with the case files, going over every single detail to try to find what they were missing, hoping she would stumble upon the key that could help crack this wide open.

She took another sip of her coffee, wanting the caffeine to hit her system soon because so far, she was less alert than usual. Scully sat up straighter as she heard Mulder’s footsteps fast on the stairs and he joined her in the kitchen a moment later.

“Good, you’re awake,” he said. “I think there’s going to be a meeting at the junkyard tonight.”

Scully frowned as she looked up at him. “Why do you think that?”

“I called up Carl and asked if I could drop some stuff off and he said he was busy,” Mulder told her. “And I asked about tonight and he said definitely not. He told me when I met him that any time was good, sun up to sun down, but not tonight. We got lucky, Scully.” Mulder went to the fridge and grabbed the orange juice from it.

“So what do you want to do?” Scully wasn’t convinced that Carl’s refusal meant something more, but she thought this could be the nail in the coffin. If nothing came of tonight, if nothing came of her work today, it would be time to start talking about the possibility of going home.

“Well, it’s at the junkyard, lots of places to hide,” Mulder said with a shrug.

“We’ll have to park and hike up there,” she said as she started to form a plan. They’d have to dress in black, be stealthy, sneak around to spy, likely see nothing and no one. On the way home, she would start the conversation about wrapping this up. Go hard on trying to talk to the mayor, ask about the mines, even if it would blow their cover. Being Scott and Amy wasn’t exactly cutting it.

“Yeah, I’m going to scope out some inconspicuous parking spots so we can gauge arrival time and go from there,” Mulder told her. They’d need a spot that wouldn’t bring prying neighbors to call Chief Pollack or something for an illegal park job.

“I’ll gather supplies while you’re gone,” Scully offered with a slight smile.

“Thanks.” Mulder leaned in and kissed the top of her head without even thinking. She had looked so… normal there, still in her pajamas, sitting with a cup of coffee. He was caught up in the ruse. But he needed to get out of here before she called attention to the mistake. “Be back soon.”

“Mmhm.” She waved him off and only looked at him as he went out the door.

The moment he had kissed the top of her head—how intimate it felt—it made her believe in domesticality, in being with someone romantically. A kiss hello or goodbye would be the norm, dinners at the kitchen table, a coffee pot to share… a bed to share. She stiffened. That was for another Scully in another life, not this one.

This Scully was at work sometimes ten hours a day, out of the house for twelve. This Scully was out of town for work so often, there was always rescheduled doctors’ appointments, milk souring in the fridge, dust collecting in an empty, quiet home. There wasn’t any room at the moment to bring another person into her life with his own schedule, his own needs and wants. She wouldn’t be able to give time to a relationship, let alone have a family.

Somehow she was okay with that.

When her mind would wander to an abstract spouse, one with dark hair, maybe looked like Tom Selleck, when she truly thought about having another soul in her life, to share her life with, it was wistful thinking. The conclusion always came that it wasn’t the right time and she didn’t know if it ever would be, and that was fine with her. She thought her mind or heart would fight her on it, would insist she wasn’t happy, but chasing monsters and spooky stories with Mulder was a life she had committed to. It was a life she wasn’t eager to change. She felt committed to him.

Her mind had drifted, but she was back now at the kitchen table, and Scully quickly stood and began to gather supplies for tonight. A backpack for each of them, flashlights and water and snacks. If there was truly something happening at the junkyard tonight, there was no telling what time it would occur. Before midnight? Closer to dawn? Scully just hoped there would not be another animal slaughter.

It was a cool night, damp grass, and they had settled themselves among rundown washers and dryers, old refrigerators. They had snuck in through a hole in the fencing on the backend of the junkyard. It had taken them twenty minute to hike there from where they parked the truck on a residential street.

Then they maneuvered through the junkyard, being cautious and quiet, until they found a spot to hide near the front. They could hear if anyone arrived, they could spy and eavesdrop and see if Carl had anything to hide tonight.

It grew later, and darker, the gates at the front of the junkyard were still open, but it seemed like they were the only ones here. There was an office, a tiny trailer with one window, but it didn’t appear that anyone was inside. No cars out front, no light on.

High beams flashed across the junkyard, over the spot where Mulder and Scully were hidden, showing off the shadows and causing Scully to slink closer to Mulder. It was a huge truck with huge wheels, bright lights shining across a bar on the top of the truck. To Scully, it looked like some kind of monster truck, but on a smaller scale.

Two normal trucks followed and they parked near the office, engines running, but all the lights on the trucks went out. The driver's door on the monster truck popped open and out slipped someone in a cloak and hood.

Scully squeezed Mulder’s hand. She was worried this meant another animal sacrifice. She wasn’t sure she could take seeing another.

More robed people emerged from the trucks, forming a circle of seven. They spoke with one another, their voices too low to make out any words. Mulder tried to determine if he’d be able to recognize any of them.

It looked like they had a cult on their hands. After the goat sacrifice and blood collecting, this checked out, but without human murders, this was of lower level interest. One of the men went to the monster truck and pulled out something that resembled a large rag doll from the truck bed, though, as the man shifted the doll in his arms, Mulder thought it looked more like a scarecrow.

He squeezed her hand now. It wasn’t a doll or a scarecrow, it was one of those creatures he saw in the basement. This one looked different, it was wearing nondescript, plain clothes and glasses… just as he was. He glanced at Scully and she was watching the group with her mouth hanging slightly open, eyebrows drawn in uncertainty.

“That’s what I saw,” he whispered to her. “It looked like that one.”

Scully shook her head, she didn’t like this. She knew it wasn’t a person they just placed in the center of their circle, but it made an uneasy feeling settle in her stomach. Whatever was going on here was strange. Satanic rituals maybe. But were they killing people? She didn’t know.

The members in the circle were quietly talking amongst themselves. The plumped up figure of a man was half sitting, half falling over in the middle of them. Scully shifted slightly, trying to get a better look to make sure she didn’t miss anything. She didn’t know what they were going to do next, but she wanted to make sure if any clue revealed itself, she wouldn’t miss it.

She bumped slightly into the open door of a dryer and heard a soft creak start. She gasped and turned, reaching for the door to stop it, but it was too late. It swung toward the dryer and banged against it. She winced and prayed no one heard, but when she looked back at the circle, they were all looking in their direction.

Several members began to walk their way, their faces still hidden by the hoods of the robes. Scully looked at Mulder and he began to crawl toward a stack of dryers. If they could duck between garbage as they backed away, they could slip out without being noticed.

There was a flash of light as Scully followed after him and a deep voice shouted, “Someone’s here!”

Mulder stood to his feet and took off running. Scully scrambled to hers and followed after him, hearing the sound of all of the members coming their way. This was her fault, she just fucked up their entire case when they might have found answers, and she feared for what would happen if they were caught.

They continued to run, cutting through the paths within the junkyard, going downhill, their feet almost too fast on the slope and they were running the risk of slipping or falling. Scully could hear the people behind them, they were severely outnumbered.

“We have to hide,” she said, her voice only loud enough to reach his ears.

“Yeah,” Mulder agreed, somewhat breathless.

Scully pointed to the left and they cut across a row of tires piled high enough to hide them, then continued down the hill past rows and rows of old tractor trailer truck cabs.

“Here, here,” Scully whispered harshly as she stopped beside a cab that had its door open.

She climbed inside, hoping there were no animals already taking residence there. She clicked on her flashlight only for a moment to take a sweeping look around, noted it was empty, then turned the light back off.

Mulder climbed in behind her and pulled the door closed with a distinct creak. He winced at the sound and realized the door was not going to stay closed on its own. He settled down there, sat on the floor beside the door, and held it in place. They couldn’t risk the sound, nor the movement.

Scully sat on the floor in front of the cab bed. Most of the cab had appeared rusted out, it smelled wet and a bit mildewy, and she decided it was in her best interest to not sit on the faux leather single bed of the cab. She detected hints of urine as well and hoped she wasn’t sitting in any deposits.

They both remained quiet as their breathing calmed and they gained their composure. Voices that had been in the distance drew closer and light flashed quickly across the cab and was gone. Footsteps and whispers passed by the cab and faded. Soon, all the sounds faded, and it was just them, alone.

Scully was still cursing herself for getting them into this situation. If she had been more careful, grabbed the door in time, they would be watching the cloaked meeting instead of being chased down by them. She wondered if Mulder would forgive her for ruining what could have been a big revelation in this case.

She toyed with the strap on her bag as she sat otherwise very still, too in fear that she might do something to draw attention to them. Mulder was quiet, gripping the door handle, waiting for the right time that he might be able to let it go, but he didn’t believe it was safe just yet.

“How long should we stay?” Scully finally whispered after what she felt was an hour had passed.

“Maybe closer to morning,” Mulder answered, his voice quiet and deep.

“Not too close if it opens at dawn,” she reminded him and looked away.

“Yeah,” he agreed and failed at stifling a yawn.

Scully shivered, though she wasn’t particularly cold. She wasn’t sure if this supposed ‘cult’ was worth their time or energy. Could they really be murdering people? She found it unlikely. It was one thing to slaughter animals in some kind of bizarre ritual, but it was something else entirely to murder people.

And if they were saying these victims then had heart issues and were cremated? That would be a lot of people in the cover up story, that would involve a lot of forged documents and lies. The facade would crumble easily if that many people were involved. It couldn’t hold under the weight of so many knowing the secrets.

“What’re your thoughts?” he asked quietly.

“I don’t know, Mulder.” Scully brought her gaze up to meet his and realized how tired he looked. “I don’t know how much of a threat they are.”

“They chased us down,” he said incredulously. Was she really believing that? Was she under their spell? How could she say they’re not a threat?

“I know,” she replied and huffed out a sigh. “And then what? They would have found us and… it would have blown our cover and they would have kicked us out of town.”

She had been scared in the moment, but now that she had time to settle, for her mind to settle, she was searching for tamer outcomes.

“I don’t think they’re harmless,” Scully continued, “but I’m not so sure they’re a heavy threat to others. We haven’t seen any sign that they’re hurting people. These recent deaths could be related to inhaling toxic mine fumes, nothing more.”

Mulder pressed his lips together and shook his head. She was wrong. “And Suzi? She just left town, did she?” He waited for a response and Scully gave a shrug, but nothing verbal. “We’re so close to breaking this, I can feel it. We were close tonight. We’re on the right track.”

“We’ll be out of time soon.” They had nothing for Skinner, nothing big enough that would give him reason to extend their time here. “We can’t stay forever.” Not here, in this weird Wonderland where everything looked fine until it didn’t make sense. Where they were pretending to be what they were not, even if that pretending had felt comforting at times.

Scully fell silent now, Mulder was in his own thoughts. She let hers drift back to her mother, to Memorial Day, to the overwhelming stab of grief and guilt she had felt in her heart when she arrived home that night. She glanced over at Mulder.

Something was sacred here. Real. Just the two of them. Not Scott and Amy, not even Mulder and Scully, but Fox and Dana. Hiding out from potential danger, on the cusp of a big discovery or a total bust, she didn’t know, but she was here in this moment with him, like time had slowed, and it was just them.

“We were at my brother’s house for Memorial Day,” she started and already felt the relief of getting this out begin to wash over her. “He told us about two friends he had lost. Eventually, the topic changed to my father. Later in the day, Melissa was brought up. I drove my mother home, and on the way, we talked about Melissa and my father again.”

Mulder was watching her, eyes trained on her, surprised she started this conversation without prompting, straying directly away from their disagreement and into something so personal. He remained quiet, giving her his full attention.

“My mother had a few glasses of wine, she was… not exactly herself,” Scully continued. “She told me she carries guilt over Melissa’s death. She said that with my father and brothers in the military, she prayed and left it up to God. She accepted that she could lose any one of them at any time and she left it in God’s hands. She prayed for them daily, and when I joined the FBI and she began to learn how dangerous my job could be, she prayed for me, too.”

Scully’s hands were in her lap and she was wringing them together, glancing at Mulder from time to time, but mostly she kept her focus straight ahead, thinking about her mother, the conversation in the car. “She said she prayed for Melissa, but not nearly as often as she did for the rest of her children. She realized it was almost as if Melissa had been an afterthought because my mother didn’t believe Melissa would ever be in danger. She didn’t pursue a life that had the potential to put her in harm’s way.”

Her eyes teared up and she cleared her throat, trying to be quiet still, but she also did not want to cry in front of Mulder. She drew in a deep breath, pulled herself together. Maybe it wasn’t right to talk about this if she was going to fall apart. The walls were coming back up, shielding her from feeling too much, from letting him in too deep.

“And then Melissa died,” Scully said. “And it wasn’t her fault, but my mother blames herself. She feels guilty, she’s not over the loss because… she said it was so unexpected. She prepared herself to give her husband and her other children up to God when he called them, but not Melissa. I kept thinking about it all night, after I was home and alone. I kept thinking about how she had already accepted my death. That if it had been me… she wouldn’t be suffering. Not like she was with Melissa. And that’s my fault.”

Mulder had listened with rapt attention. Sometimes, it felt like prying, like coaxing, getting her to open up to him, but the fact that she finally was confiding in him, especially with something this emotionally heavy… it meant a lot to him.

“I don’t believe any of that is true,” he told her gently. “It’s not your fault and your mother would not be okay with your death. No mother is ever okay with her child’s death.”

“But she shouldn’t blame herself,” Scully replied. “It’s not her fault.”

“And it’s not yours either,” he reminded her.

Mulder slowly and carefully released the door, letting the squeaking fill the air until the door was open, until all they heard was the distant hoot of an owl. Once he felt it was safe, he crawled across the cab to her and sat beside her. They were hidden from view, hidden from the world.

He debated his words, what else he could say, what he could do for her. He didn’t really have much.

“Sometimes things just aren’t fair,” he said quietly and took her hand within both of his. He met her eye. “And we just have to ride it out. She’ll get there, she’ll be okay. Time has a way of… It doesn’t make it easier, but it makes it different.”

Scully understood what he meant, it’s the way she felt about her father. But that was different because she was always trying to please him, their conversations always felt somewhat formal, especially as she grew older. She was missing a piece with him gone, but there was a painful relief there, too, that came from knowing she could no longer disappoint him.

With Melissa, however, it didn’t seem right, and Scully often forgot Melissa was gone, only to have that sick smack to her stomach when she remembered the world had one less light in it. She didn’t know if that feeling would ever go away. She didn’t think she deserved it anyway.

“If I never joined the FBI…” she started slowly and then realized this wasn’t the route she wanted to take. To say she regretted it, regretted him, when that wasn’t true. “Well, I wouldn’t be in a stinky truck in the middle of the junkyard in the middle of the night.” Scully looked over at him and a slight smile formed.

Mulder let out a breath and shook his head, a smile tugging at his own lips. He squeezed her hand gently between his own. “And yet, you’re lucky to be here with such good company.”

“The best,” she replied. Because this was it now, wasn’t it? They were Mulder and Scully, the basement dwellers looking for ghosts and monsters.

“Thank you,” Scully added softly. For listening, for being there for her, for always being a constant, consistent figure in her life. One she knew she could always rely on, always trust. If only she found this in a life partner, she’d be set. Yet sitting here with him, in the dark, with his warm hands over her own, it felt like she already found one.

But that was too complicated, she couldn’t date her coworker, and she couldn’t leave the X-Files. And maybe she didn’t need to change or define or run from whatever they were. They could just be here, themselves, like they always had been, always will be.

Scully’s eyes were locked with his and she had the insane urge to lean in, to touch him, kiss him maybe, and it was that very thought that drew her away before that could happen. Because she couldn’t date him and they certainly couldn’t have romantic relations while they were out on a case. She’d have to be crazy.

“Thank you,” she said again, squeezed his hand, and drew back. “It might be safe, you know, to go. We’ve been here a while, I don’t hear anyone.”

Mulder nodded, watched the way she seemed to put space between them and put a nonexistent wall up. It was nice to pretend for the tiniest bit that someone like her would be interested in him. He wished they had undercover cases more often.

“Think we’re stealthy enough?” he asked.

“We’re going to have to be,” she replied.

They would have to listen and watch, be on alert, as they made their way out of this truck cab and back to the hole in the fence. For all they knew, the people in the robes were still looking for them, for all they knew, they had found the hole in the fence, maybe even found their truck.

But the junkyard was quiet, which made Scully feel like her steps were loud as they carefully made their way to the fence. They did not see anyone, human or animal, and after they passed through the hole in the fence, Scully took Mulder’s hand because what had been a steep climb up felt like an even steeper descent.

The sound of crickets surrounded them, chirping nearer before going silent, ones in the distance calling out, but there was no return. She slipped, Mulder’s grip tightened on her hand, and he reached for her, steadied her by grabbing onto her arm as well.

“Thanks,” she whispered, but he didn’t reply, he was too busy listening, scanning. He couldn’t let her fall into danger.

Mulder stopped as they reached the edge of the thin woods. Birds were beginning to sing, though it wasn’t quite predawn yet. He released her hand and held his arm out, stopping her. He eyed the street cautiously, looking at every home, every window, every car parked on the street or in a driveway. There was no movement.

He led the way to the truck, opened her door first, and went around the driver’s side, checking out the neighborhood again, hoping that if anyone did see them, they wouldn’t know who they were in the dark. There were no streetlights here, only one at the end of the road.

Mulder started the truck and the sound of the engine cut through the quiet reverie and a dog began to bark in the distance. Scully buckled up and looked around, spooked. She felt like they were being watched, even if she saw no one else.

He pulled out and drove off the street, wanting to get back to Main Street, wanting to get back to Dale’s house, to pretend they were there all night. They were outsiders, the two of them, and they were seen tonight where they shouldn’t have been. Would the hooded figures believe the spies were members of their own town or did they already know it was them who had been there?

The roads were empty and Mulder tried to not let that jostle his nerves. If anyone saw them, how would they explain driving around this early in the morning? They only passed one other car before they were back at Dale’s house, parked behind it, no suspicious vehicles there, nothing out of the ordinary. Maybe they were fine.

Scully said goodnight to him and immediately went upstairs, without waiting, without going over a game plan for tomorrow. He felt she might be feeling a little emotionally raw, confused, wanting answers, just as he was, as to what had happened tonight, what had been about to happen.

But maybe she was right. If they were destroying scarecrows or something, that was relatively harmless, even with the animal sacrifice. They could bust them for animal cruelty and it might disband the group, but it still didn’t solve the issues of the deaths, of Suzi’s disappearance.

Mulder locked the doors and turned off the lights, heading upstairs after. Her bedroom door was closed, but the light was on. He debated checking in, checking on her, but stopped himself halfway down the hall. She said goodnight, he should leave her be. He turned and headed back to his room, knowing he was in for a rough sleep.

She awoke only a few hours later feeling groggy, but unable to fall back to sleep. Scully knew this case was coming to a close, it had to be. They would need to go into town today, try to touch base with who they might’ve suspected was there last night, try to see the mayor. Maybe even drop in on Todd and Chief Pollack. Todd seemed uneasy, he might have information, and Scully thought the police chief might have answers about a supposed cult.

Scully was in the kitchen, having just finished eating a quick breakfast of eggs and toast, when she heard Mulder on the stairs. He entered the kitchen, his hair disheveled, sticking up on one side. He was wearing a pair of jeans and a black Pittsburgh Steelers t-shirt with a helmet on the front.

Mulder was yawning and scratching the back of his head as he walked toward the kitchen sink and his shirt rode up, exposing his abs. Scully stared at them for too long before directing her gaze upward.

“Morning, Scott,” she greeted him and picked up her mug of coffee. Scully brought it to her lips and sipped on it slowly as she watched Mulder wet his hands, using them to smooth down his hair on the side.

“Carl’s swinging by,” Mulder told her, no formal greeting, he was too tired.

“He is?” Scully's eyebrows shot up in surprise as she lowered her mug to the table.

“Yeah, Scott gave me the go ahead to clear out the basement, so Carl is gonna take some stuff to the junkyard,” Mulder explained. “I was hoping to ride with him and press a bit about last night.”

“I’ll get ready and come, too,” Scully said as she stood from the table. “I don’t trust any of them.”

“Okay,” he agreed easily and grabbed some milk from the fridge for a quick bowl of cereal. He didn’t trust them either, especially after last night.

Scully went upstairs to change, run a brush through her hair. When she returned, she found Mulder sitting at the table, slurping milk from his cereal bowl. He stood quickly and took the bowl to the sink.

“I’ll get that for you.” Scully needed to wash her own dishes as well.

“Thanks, babe,” Mulder replied easily, casually.

She rolled her eyes at him and he gave her a smile that struck her, made her cheeks warm, and she distracted herself by washing up the dishes. She was nearly through them when a knock sounded on the back door.

They looked at each other and Mulder crossed the kitchen to open the door and reveal Carl standing there looking tired and disheveled, his t-shirt wrinkled with faded stains on the front, jeans worn. His ever present baseball cap was tipped lower.

“Hey, come in,” Mulder told him and stepped back.

“Yeah, thanks.” Carl entered and gave Scully a tight lipped smile. “Hey.”

“Hi, how are you doing, Carl?” she asked, keeping her tone very sweet.

“Fine,” he answered with a single nod and turned to Mulder. “Let’s get started?”

“Right this way, come on.” Mulder led the way to the basement. “There’s a set of cellar doors we can open from the inside and carry the junk out that way.”

Mulder took Carl down to the basement and pulled the string that would turn on the light. It always smelled musty and dirty down here, the shadows making it all too eerie to want to be alone.

“We can start with the old mowers and trimmers and everything,” Mulder told him. “Dad was a tinkerer so he’s got a lot of parts down here.”

“Yeah, we’ll load it up and run it over,” Carl replied as he surveyed the basement, eyeing the metal rusted shelves that held tools and bolts, nuts, pieces of appliance parts. He looked back over at Mulder. “You wanna ride along with me?”

“Sure, yeah.” Mulder nodded, that offer couldn’t have been better. “Amy’ll probably wanna come check out the junkyard, too. Something to do, you know?” He forced a laugh.

“Uh, yeah, ‘cept I only got room for one in the truck,” Carl replied. “I got a lot of stuff up front.”

“Oh, sure, that’s fine.” Maybe it would be better if he was able to chat with Carl alone, talk man to man with him. If that didn’t work, he’d invite Carl to hang out after they were through and let Scully try to get information from him.

Mulder helped to load up the truck and they had a full truck bed within the hour. He informed Scully of the plan early on when Carl had gone to back his truck up to the cellar doors, so when it was time to go, Mulder only gave her a quick goodbye, with a kiss to the forehead as Carl watched, before heading out the door with him.

He hopped up into the front passenger side of the truck and saw why Scully could never ride with them. There were empty fast food containers on the dash and the floor, an overstuffed duffel bag between the seats and several plump black trash bags on the floor, which squished like blankets or clothes when Mulder’s legs pressed against them.

Carl started the truck and headed out onto the road. He glanced at Mulder. “So, you almost finished at your dad’s?”

“Almost,” Mulder answered. “Clearing the basement is the first step. Working from the bottom to the top, you know?”

“Yeah,” Carl agreed. “We can get the whole basement done tonight, I think.” He cleared his throat. “What about Amy? She gonna wanna come out on the next run to the junker?”

“Only if we could ride together,” Mulder told him. “I don’t think she’d wanna take the truck separately.”

“Yeah, sorry ‘bout all this stuff, man.” Carl waved his hand, indicating the mess around them. “Girlfriend kicked me out. Been sleeping at the junkyard.”

“Oh?” Mulder sat up a little straighter. If Carl was sleeping at the junkyard, he would have been there last night.

“Yep,” he responded with a sigh.

“Is it haunted up there like the rest of town?” Mulder asked with a hint of a laugh. “You hear anything loud or ghostly last night?” He needed to know if Carl heard them there or if he was an active participant. He watched him closely for a tell.

Carl shook his head, his gaze never leaving the road. “Nah, all was quiet.”

“Huh.” Mulder wasn’t sure if Carl was guilty or not. “A junkyard seems like a good haunting place with all the stuff there from dead people.”

“I don’t really believe in ghosts,” Carl said and reached forward to flick the radio on.

Mulder took the hint, decided to let the music play. He didn’t know why Carl would ask him to come along if they couldn’t even chat. But he’d give him some time to his thoughts before pestering him once they got to the junkyard. Mulder was hoping there might be some clues left behind from the meeting last night, something out of place he might be able to point out to Carl, to use to trip him up.

Carl pulled up to the junkyard, his truck climbing the hill that took them through the open gates. It looked different in the daylight. The office was to the right, a faded blue with one window, its window pane cracked and chipping away. There were piles of scrap metal and lawn equipment.

Mulder thought Carl would stop the truck since most of what they had belonged here, but he drove to the left, on a narrow path through the junk. They passed furniture, decayed and stripped, broken down and ready to be burned or destroyed further, taken apart. Then stacks of mattresses, burrowed into by animals, torn apart, metal springs hanging loose, rusted over.

“Where we dropping this off?” Mulder asked and glanced at Carl.

“There’s a spot over here where we sort.” Carl nodded his head forward.

Mulder was starting to feel uncomfortable, sensing Carl was not being truthful, and the hair on the back of his neck was standing up. He glanced around as he debated jumping from the moving truck. Carl wasn’t driving too fast and Mulder could probably run and conceal himself before Carl could catch up to him.

But then they pulled into this circular clearing and Mulder relaxed. There were piles of discarded trash, one of metals, one of plastics, a huge lot of old tires. Windows and doors with glass panes barely surviving while the wood was soaked and bloated.

Carl stopped the truck in the middle and parked, but left the engine running. He looked at Mulder. “Help me unload?”

Mulder eyed him, again looking for a sign that this was wrong, that something was off, but he nodded at him and popped his truck door open. He met Carl at the back of the truck where the other man pulled open the door to the truck bed.

“Just grab what you can carry and take it over to that opening there.” Carl pointed to a pile about twenty feet away. “We’ll drop it and I’ll sort it later.”

“You got it.” Mulder reached in and took the weedwacker in one hand and what looked like some kind of small engine, wires poking out, in the other.

He walked toward the clearing and wondered if he should just ask Carl about the cabin or the robed figures, wondered if he could spin a lie that he came up to unload some junk last night and saw the meeting. Maybe confronting Carl directly would be enough to cause him to crack. He looked like he was just barely holding on.

Mulder dropped his handful and turned back to Carl, ready to start getting some answers when he realized that wasn’t going to be possible. Carl was no longer in his view, but there were two hooded figures standing near the truck. He didn’t have time to react when something hard slammed against the side of his head and knocked him to the ground.

Chapter Text

They should have been back by now.

Scully was pacing the kitchen, kept eyeing the back window, searching for Carl’s truck. Calls to Mulder went unanswered, calls to the junkyard were sent to an answering machine. After one more call to Mulder’s phone without him picking up, she grabbed the truck keys and headed out.

She never should have let him go alone. After what happened last night, they should have been smarter today. They should have assumed their cover was blown, that those people in hoods saw them for who they were, knew who they were.

Scully drove to the junkyard, speeding most of the way without a care. Let a cop pull her over, she’d lead them right to the junkyard with her. But the roads were mostly quiet and when she arrived, the gates were closed.

“No,” she muttered and parked the truck outside of the gate.

She threw open the door, left it open as she threaded her fingers through the chain link gate and shook it. No use, it was held together with a big thick chain and lock.

“Scott!” Scully yelled. “Carl! Anyone?”

She looked around, trying to figure out if she should scale the fence. There was barbed wire at the top, there was no way she could get over it. Scully would have to sneak in the way they had yesterday. She climbed back into the truck and drove off, taking the back roads that would bring her to the backstreets of the junkyard.

Scully parked and ran through the brush and the trees until she reached the fence. She half walked, half ran alongside of it, looking for the space they had slipped through the night before. She was sure she was missing it, she couldn’t find it, and then she saw it, the patched fence. Someone had fixed the hole they used.

Her breath left her and she stood rooted to her spot. How would she get in? Was he even there? And if he wasn’t, where would he be? He wouldn’t have gone with Carl anywhere else without calling her. Unless they never came to the junkyard in the first place.

Scully ran back to the truck and started driving, trying to find her way to the cabin. They had to be there, it was remote and private. It took her over a half hour of driving and turning around through the backwoods before she noticed a path wide enough for a truck, grooves in the ground from tires.

She turned onto this path, taking the route a bit too fast, hitting bumps and dips that caused her to bounce hard on the seat. Eventually it led through thicker trees before coming to a clearing with the cabin in the middle, but she was alone. No other trucks or cars were there, no one was around.

Scully parked the truck and tried the door on the cabin, but it was locked. She called for ‘Scott,’ not wanting to blow their cover, but she was very close to not giving a shit anymore. She just wanted Mulder. She called his cell phone again, but he still didn’t pick up and she didn’t hear it ringing from inside the cabin.

Without any sign of him, Scully drove back into town, wondering if there was anyone she could turn to, anyone at all who could give her some insight on where Carl might be, where Mulder might be. She spotted Shelby Manor and something clicked. Mulder had seen some weird things there, it was boarded up. It would be a perfect place to stash a kidnapped victim.

The sun was setting by the time she parked around the back of it. Scully ran to the house, ducking beneath some caution tape, and went in through the unlocked window of the basement, just as she had done with Mulder. She listened first for voices or movement, but heard nothing.

“Okay…” she breathed.

Scully turned on her small flashlight and searched the basement, even checking out where Mulder swore he saw some kind of phantom scarecrow come for him, but there was nothing different from when they had been here together.

She headed up the stairs to the first floor, went quickly from room to room, but she didn’t hear anyone and she certainly didn’t see anyone. Scully found herself at the bottom of the grand staircase as she tried to figure out the next step.

If he wasn’t here, she was going to have to call Skinner and have him send agents to help her search. They were going to have to tear this town apart until he showed up. She’d blow this case without a care if it meant getting him back.

Unless it was more innocent. Maybe his phone died, maybe he was with Carl, getting drinks somewhere, and he thought she was fine at Dale’s house. But he would have called. It was unlike him to drop off the face of the Earth like this. Not when they were in this together.

Scully stared at the staircase and remembered how Mulder had wanted to go up them, likely would have if she had not been there to tell him no. He could be up there now. Maybe his instincts had been right and they were hiding people up there.

The steps were broken and coming apart, but Scully noticed that if she walked along the outside, against the rail, she could avoid the wood sticking up and the holes. They had no idea what caused the damage. Perhaps it was manmade to eliminate snooping.

As Scully started carefully up, she realized the stairs were dusty everywhere except the path she was on, as if someone was traveling up and down here often. Her steps quickened as her hope rose. If someone was using the house, he really could be here. Another hiding spot in a town hiding so much.

Scully reached the top and looked down one side of the hallway, then the other, trying to decide which way to go first. Forgoing the left, she went right, across the foyer, and down the hall with several doorways, the last of them closed. She passed a bathroom, a guest room, a study, a library, and then came to the closed door.

The tarnished door knob would not turn, it was locked. She cursed and looked around, her eyes landing on the small table in the hall. There was a vase of fake flowers on top and the table was coated in dust except for right above the tiny drawer where Scully identified a row of fingerprints. She tugged the drawer open and heard the clatter of metal. A set of three keys on a ring.

Scully grabbed them and it was the second key that allowed her to open the locked door. She shoved the door open and her flashlight beam swept over the room. Her eyes widened in surprise and the keys fell from her hand and clattered to the floor.

The room had thick, heavy deep red curtains, the air was stale and putrid. There were baskets of fabrics and sewing supplies, but the alarming part was what was on the tables. Four tables along the back wall were occupied with rows and rows of voodoo dolls, each one different from the next, some hanging from the ceiling by threads, others lying face down.

On the walls, above each table, hung the bones of animals. Two skulls, one of a deer, and one of a cow. Then ribs, femurs, tibias, scapulas, and ulnas. All of which Scully was sure were not human, but only tests and measurements would tell.

Breathing slowly, Scully crossed the room and stopped at the tables, sweeping her flashlight beam over the dolls. She didn’t believe in voodoo, but it was still unsettling to see them with stitched up chests, one ripped open, and one that looked like Scott’s father.

She moved on to the next table and froze when she saw two newer looking ones laying amongst the others. These two were unweathered with fresh burlap, fresh cloth. One with dark hair and glasses, the other with red hair—the same color as hers.

“What the fuck…” she muttered as she picked up the doll that resembled her.

Scully wanted to burn it, burn them all, they seemed too creepy to exist, but wouldn’t that kill her? She scoffed at the thought. These effigies were nothing more than dolls. But she held onto hers and grabbed the one that looked like Mulder all the same.

She turned to go. He wasn’t here and she needed to find him and then they’d call in backup to tear this whole thing down. But she stopped when she saw it, a book. It was plain and unassuming, brown leather, yellowed pages. She opened the cover and began flipping through the pages.

There were some kind of spells inside, mangled words in a language she didn’t recognize. There were drawings of fire, of the coal mine, the town on fire with it burning and smoking, the earth cracked right down Main Street. Then there were drawings of the perfect little town, the perfect little parade with smiling children and happy residents.

The last pages contained people with big smiles, ear to ear, as they fell into the mine. No. They were being tossed into the mine by cloaked individuals. Black cloaks and hoods and the open, fiery entrance to the mine as the landing place for the townspeople. The oysters come home.

She should burn the book.

Scully didn’t know what compelled her to take things. This was all sick and unnatural. Her gaze scanned the dolls hanging from the ceiling and she felt a wave of nausea wash over her. She had to do something, but she didn’t know what it meant.

She grabbed the book and shoved it into the back of her pants. She would come back to this room with backup, but she needed to find Mulder now. On the way to the door, she noticed several nails halfway through the wall, right alongside the door. A scarf was hanging on one, a camera by its strap on another.

Scully eyed the camera and took it. She looked it over, the dolls tucked into the crook of her elbow. There were initials etched into the strap.

S.B. C.F.

She didn’t know C.F., but she made the guess that S.B. stood for Suzanne Burrows and while she was possibly touching evidence, she knew it was much too late for that now in this nuthouse.

Scully booked it from the room, leaving the door open, her arms full. She was careful on the stairs, staying near the rail, and sucked in a deep breath once she had gone through the basement, climbed out the window, and was back outside in the fresh air.

She was holding many pieces with no conclusion. Was Suzi the one behind this all? Had Scott been wrong about her all along? She went to the truck and dumped her armful onto the passenger seat.

“Evening, ma’am.”

Scully froze and slowly turned around, being sure to close the door behind her as she saw Chief Buddy Pollack in front of her, dressed in his uniform. The book she stole was pressing into her back.

“Hello,” she replied.

“Got a call about some prowler hanging around the ol’ Shelby place,” Buddy told her, wearing a smile that could have been charming, except for the darkness behind his eyes. “Usually it’s the kids, you know, the teens hopped up on ghost stories.”

“Yes,” Scully agreed, the word breathless. Her heart was beating fast and she took in a deep breath to calm herself. “I was looking for someone. I didn’t mean to cause any trouble.”

“Who are you looking for?” Buddy asked, tilting his head to the side. “Can I be of assistance?”

“My boyfriend, Scott,” Scully told him and felt like she was walking on a tightrope. One wrong move and down she would go. “He went out and his phone died, and I know he likes the Shelby house so I thought I’d check here, but he’s not here, so I’m just going to go. I’m sure he’s back at his father’s house.”

“I can escort you, if you’d like,” Buddy offered. “If he’s not there, I can help search.”

“No, no, I’ll be fine,” Scully assured him with a wave of her hand. The last thing she wanted was to be around him any longer. “Thank you, officer.”

“It’s Chief,” Buddy told her, his tone firmer.

“Sorry,” Scully mumbled. She needed to get out of here.

Buddy hung around, his hands planted on his hips, watching as Scully quickly got into the truck, yanking the book from her pants and sliding it to the passenger seat before she drove away. So maybe it wasn’t Suzi at all, but the police chief. Mulder had a bad feeling about him and Scully did, too.

She noticed the police car behind her as she drove all the way through town until she turned onto the street that would take her to Dale’s house. Scully slowed the car and watched the rearview mirror. Buddy finally stopped following her. She swung a right and made another right down the next street to take her back to Main. There was another stop she needed to make.

At a red light, she took out her cell phone and dialed for Mulder again. No answer. She tried not to panic, tried not to imagine him hurt or dead, that some kind of heart failure got to him like the rest of the people that died recently in this town.

Someone honked behind her, the light was green. Scully focused back on the road, back to where she needed to be, hoping to find answers there. Five minutes later, she pulled up to a house that looked more rundown than the others.

The paint wasn’t as fresh, the windows weren’t as clean. She was at the Burrows residence and she needed some answers about Suzi. If Sharon Burrows hadn’t been willing to talk to Mulder, Scully was going to make sure she got some results now.

She took the camera with her as she marched to the front door. Her fist was balled tightly as she pounded on the door. It took two rounds of knocking before the door opened a few inches to reveal Sharon within the gap.

Scully held up the camera to Sharon’s eyeline. The older woman gasped softly and paled, as if she had seen a ghost. Her gaze shifted to Scully, who glared.

“How could you deny your daughter?” she asked.

Sharon’s eyes widened and something broke, snapped the porcelain facade that was already cracked. Her bottom lip trembled and suddenly tears were streaming down her cheeks.

“Scott is missing,” Scully said, her tone even and firm. “I need to find him.”

“I don’t know where he is,” Sharon told her in a rough, rushed voice.

“Do you know where she is?” Scully asked and shook the camera. Just because Sharon denied having a daughter, it didn’t mean she wasn’t hiding her in her basement or something.

“No,” Sharon whispered and glanced around before taking a step back and widening the door to allow Scully inside.

The house was dark and unkempt, and the strong stench of stale cigarettes and smoke hit Scully hard. The windows were covered with newspaper, curtains were old, dusty and tattered, hanging limply, not fully closed over the windows.

Scully stepped further into the living room. The end tables and coffee table held several ashtrays that hadn’t been cleaned anytime recently. The ceiling was yellowed, the wallpaper was peeling, and the furniture was worn and lumpy, holding indentations from familiar loungers that had their favorite spots.

Sharon remained by the closed front door, her hands shaking slightly, and she clasped them together in front of herself as Scully turned toward her.

“What’s going on in this town?” she asked.

Slowly, Sharon shook her head and then looked toward the floor. “You’ll have to try the mines. They’re… they’re coming apart.” Sharon lifted her gaze to meet Scully. “They’re burning. It’s all burning.”

“The mines?” Scully guessed.

“Yes,” Sharon whispered.

Scully’s cell phone began to ring and she pulled her phone from her pocket. She turned away from Sharon as she answered it.

“Hey…” Mulder’s voice came through the line, soft, weak.

“Where are you?” Scully asked as her pitch rose in her worry, even as relief flooded her system that he was still alive.

“At the mines,” he said, though his words were strained.

“They’re on fire, it’s not safe,” Scully told him. “You gotta get away.”

“Would if I could, babe,” he replied, his words tapering off as if he was in pain.

“Mulder…” His name was quiet from her lips, pleading, needing him to tell her he was okay, that everything was fine, and give her direction as to what she needed to do to make it right.

“They’d eaten every one,” he quoted from ‘The Walrus and the Carpenter’ and the line went dead, he was gone. But he wasn’t alone. He was talking about the oysters and the carpenter and walrus. They had him, the cloaked figures had him, she fully believed it, and now she had to get him back.

“What have they been doing?” Scully’s voice rose in anger, in fear, as she turned to face Sharon. “With everyone? Killing them? What did your daughter find?”

“I…” Sharon shook her head. “She didn’t tell me everything.”

“What did she say?” Scully replied.

“She said it wasn’t safe here and we needed to leave town, but then she… she disappeared,” Sharon explained, fresh tears falling. “They told me if I went along with it, if we all agreed she was never a part of our town, she could leave and never look back, but I’m scared. I just want my daughter home.”

“And I want my Scott back,” Scully said harshly. “I’m going to the mines.”

“It’s not safe,” Sharon warned her, eyes widening in fear.

“Nowhere here is safe,” Scully snapped back and quickly left the house.

She ran back to the truck and didn’t even watch her speed as she headed to the mines. Mulder drove up to the mines early in their investigation. There were signs that pointed the way, but it was a dead end, the area now fenced in and roped off. It was no longer a tourist destination. The townspeople had warned them of the closure in their first days in town, warned them not to go there.

Scully was convinced it was a running script, everything here was a facade. She had to get to Mulder before it was too late. He was the only thing that mattered to her. This entire town could go to hell for all she cared. They had been deceived from the beginning and if the whole town crumbled and caught fire and was destroyed? Good riddance.

As she approached the road to the mine, she saw two cars parked in front of several rows of caution tape that blocked off the road. She drove right through them until they snapped and blew off in the wind. Then she came upon the fence with a wide gate that was wide open. Maybe she wasn’t too late.

Once she was through the gate and reached the top of the hill, she parked the truck, but left it running. Dust kicked up and blew through the light of the high beams as Scully got out of the truck and slammed the door closed.

“Mulder!” she called and was met with silence. It felt warmer here and there was a smell in the air, like burning plastic, and she realized it wasn’t dust and dirt in the air, it was smoke.

There was an entrance to the mine carved into rock and it looked like a cave, but she couldn’t access it even if she tried. The ground had opened up to form a massive hole in front of the entrance. There might have been a way to scoot around on the narrow ledge to get inside the mine, but it wasn’t worth falling into the hole that went down into darkness.

She heard a car before she saw its lights, the flashing red and blue. Scully booked it back toward the truck. Mulder wasn’t here, she was running out of options. It was time to call Skinner and get back up, to get to the bottom of this and fit the pieces together to find Mulder.

A police cruiser parked near the truck and Scully shielded her eyes against the headlights that were shining right on her. The passenger door opened and a figure emerged.

“I heard you’ve been asking for me.” It was a female voice, mature, and the woman stepped in front of the cruiser, her body cutting into the light.

Scully drew in a sharp breath as she recognized the mayor, Geraldine Fisk. She was a stout woman with pale brown hair that was short and permed into tight curls. She was wearing a simple dress with tiny flowers on it, stockings and black shoes with thick soles.

“Your town is on fire,” Scully said, her gaze staying on the mayor even as the driver’s side door popped open and Buddy emerged.

“And you’re trespassing,” he told Scully as he approached. He withdrew his handcuffs.

Scully looked at Buddy, her eyes widening in surprise. “You’re arresting me?”

Buddy roughly grabbed her arm and pulled, turning her sideways as he quickly clicked a cuff around one of her wrists. Scully tugged, trying to free herself, but Buddy held tighter to her and cuffed her other wrist as well.

“We take trespassing very seriously,” Geraldine said firmly.

Scully couldn’t let this go on anymore, not with Mulder missing. Their case didn’t matter if she couldn’t have him back.

“I’m a Federal Agent,” she spoke up. “Dana Scully. My badge is at Dale Evans’ house. I’m looking for my partner, Fox Mulder. I believe he was at the mines with a cult.”

“Let’s get you to the station.” Buddy practically dragged her toward the police cruiser after ignoring everything she said.

“You can uncuff me,” Scully told him. “I’m with the FBI.”

Geraldine opened the backseat door and Buddy shoved her in. Scully banged her head along the way and fell over onto the seat. The door slammed shut behind her as Scully attempted to sit up. Buddy returned to the driver’s seat while Geraldine got in on the front passenger side.

“I need to call my boss, Assistant Director Walter Skinner,” Scully said, trying to keep her voice firm and even. “My partner is in trouble.”

“Take us to the House of the Order,” Geraldine told Buddy. “Then dispose of the truck.”

“You got it, Mayor Fisk,” Buddy replied.

Scully's eyes grew wide as she looked between them. They weren’t here to arrest her, nor help her. They were here to hurt her, to possibly make her disappear like Suzi, to die and be cremated like Dale and Babs, and perhaps Mulder already met the same fate.

She struggled on the ride over, trying to get the door open, but to no avail. She knew they couldn’t be open from the inside.

Geraldine and Buddy did not talk, but the radio was playing twangy country music that they turned up loud to drown her out. Scully tried pleading, threatening, offering bribes she wouldn’t follow through on, but she was ignored completely.

Finally, they arrived at the cabin in the woods, the House of the Order. Scully had a feeling she was headed for the basement. Buddy dragged her kicking from the backseat of the cruiser and pulled her across the yard to the door.

Geraldine stood stoic, eyeing her with her lips pinched tight, her eyes narrowed, as they passed by. Then she followed them and unlocked the door. She opened it for Buddy and he tossed Scully inside. She landed hard on her arm and shoulder.

Buddy stepped into the cabin next and Scully aimed a kick that just missed him. Her second kick wasn’t nearly as powerful and he took the hit to his shin with a grunt. He grabbed her arm and began dragging her across the floor as Geraldine passed them and opened the stairs to the basement.

“Please, don’t,” Scully begged. “Don’t do this. They will send other agents here. You won’t win. They will find you and arrest you.”

“Toss her,” Geraldine said firmly without any wavering after Scully's pleas.

“No!” Scully shouted.

Buddy used both hands to lift Scully up. She kicked at him and missed, then tried to wiggle free, to break his hold on her. His grip loosened and she slipped closer to the floor, but didn’t make it there as Buddy shoved her hard down the stairs.

The impact was brutal, she was more than halfway down when she landed and heard her left humerus bone crack when she hit the stairs. She felt a rush of warmth throughout her body and banged her head as she slid the rest of the way down. She landed in a crumpled heap at the bottom.

Scully groaned, feeling light headed and dizzy. She heard the door creak closed and then footsteps. She wasn’t alone.

A pair of black shoes came into her line of vision. Geraldine walked into the center of the room, looked around, and went for the closet. She opened both doors and ran her hand along the robes, humming softly as she did so.

“What did you do with Mulder?” Scully asked, her voice strained as she spoke through the pain. “Scott. Where is he?”

“I only know the people in my town, so I cannot help you.” Geraldine paused as toyed with the sleeve of one of the robes.

“What about Suzi?” Scully prompted.

Geraldine let out a heavy sigh. “Again, I only know—”

“I spoke with her mother, she told me what you said,” Scully cut her off. “To deny her daughter. Did you murder her like everyone else?”

“Oh, dear,” Geraldine commented and turned to face Scully. “I don’t murder anyone. What a foolish thing to say.”

Scully attempted to sit up, but she had no leverage with her hands cuffed behind her back. Just trying to get up caused shooting pains in her arm and her side. She clenched her teeth against the pain as she looked at Geraldine.

“What are you going to do to me?” Scully asked.

“Have you put out of your misery, of course,” Geraldine told her in a tone both innocent and sweet as if she was inviting her to brunch. “Come on, to the middle now.” She started toward Scully. “I’ll have some work to do first. I’ll need a replica so the Order knows the answer. They’ll find you here, don’t worry. You’ll die a hero.”

“A hero?” Scully repeated.

Geraldine stopped beside Scully and looked down at her with a wistful look in her eye. She had a very small, weak smile on her face.

“Your blood will calm the demons,” she said, still carrying a pleasant tone. “Your flesh and bone will provide the sacrifice needed to calm the earth so we can live. You can do right to benefit everyone in town. Now, come, to the middle here.” Geraldine leaned down as she reached for her, but she paused, eyeing Scully's head. “Oh, you’re bleeding, dear. To the drain. Then, I must leave you.”

Scully was staring at Geraldine with wide eyes. This woman was insane and this town was supporting it, supporting her. They were all mad here.

She needed to find a way out of this, but she wasn’t sure there was one. She decided to try to establish some kind of relationship, to try to help Geraldine see that this was a bad idea.

“You clearly care about this town, but if you go through with this, they will take you away from here,” Scully said and looked her in the eye. “Who will run the town when you’re gone?”

“I am the only one,” Geraldine told her firmly. “I always do right and I know I am safe. Always.”

Geraldine grabbed Scully's good arm and pulled on her hard to help her sit up. Scully cried out, the room felt like it was spinning, and she nearly toppled back over. Her injured arm was swelling, it ached, while her head throbbed. Talking wasn’t working so Scully did the only other thing she could think of—she kicked Geraldine as hard as she could in the side.

The older woman toppled over with a cry and landed hard on the cement ground. She turned over on all fours and heaved in several breaths before straightening herself up until she was kneeling. She glared at Scully.

“I see you’re not ready yet.” Her words were higher in pitch, crisper as well. “I’ll have to start the procedure.”

Scully watched as Geraldine went toward the table and eyed the knives and tools hanging there. With Geraldine momentarily distracted, Scully had to try to escape. Biting her lip to help keep herself from making noise, Scully began to slowly scoot backwards.

She didn’t have far to go until she bumped into the bottom step. Her breaths were quick and the room blurred. Her back was aching and the thought of getting up the stairs was daunting, but she would have to try. She had to stay focused.

“Where are you going, little piggy?” Geraldine spoke to her as if addressing a small child. She approached slowly, a knife with a ten inch blade clutched tightly in her hand. “Back to the market? I’ve already paid for you, dear.”

Scully moved her legs, tried to push herself up onto the first step at least. Her eyes never strayed from Geraldine as she felt fear soaking into her skin, making her brain sharper, but her body felt heavier.

The physical pain was weighing her down and she didn’t manage to go anywhere as Geraldine closed the distance between them. She leaned down and grabbed Scully’s hair, digging her fingers through the strands and yanked her away from the stairs. Scully yelled and fell forward, which sent a jolt of pain through her broken arm that left her breathless.

Geraldine bent down even closer to Scully so that she was inches from her face. She had the knife pulled in close and Scully saw the flash of the metal as Geraldine twisted it in her hand. Scully closed her eyes and tried to quell the wave of nausea that overtook her.

“Come, my dear, to the middle,” Geraldine said in a brightened tone.

She released Scully’s hair and tucked her arm fully under Scully’s good one to help pull her up onto her knees. Geraldine aimed the knife at Scully’s throat as she tugged on her, forcing Scully to crawl on her knees, inch by inch, toward the center of the room where the drain was. Scully tried to work out how she’d get the knife, how she could use it against Geraldine despite her hands being cuffed behind her back.

“There there, little piggy.” Geraldine let go of her and Scully swayed, almost falling. “Let me get ready.”

Geraldine left Scully near the drain and went to retrieve a robe from the closet. Scully felt tears prick her eyes, knowing that there wasn’t much more she could do. Even if she managed to get on her feet, one touch to her arm or her side would be enough to put her back down.

Her hope was fading fast and she thought of her mother, of the phone call she would receive after they IDed her body, if they ever found her body. Her mother with only her sons left, aching for the daughters that resembled her, that loved her, that she prayed for nightly.

The door banged open and heavy footsteps pounded down the stairs. Scully looked over and nearly cried out at seeing Mulder. Relief flooded her system, left her breathless, and she could barely stay kneeling.

Mulder was disheveled, his glasses were gone, his clothes were dirty and his shirt was torn. He was sporting a large bump on his head, but he was here, and he was aiming a gun at Geraldine.

But he wasn’t alone. There was a woman behind him, petite, olive skinned with dark, long curly hair tied back at the nape of her neck. It was Suzi, in the flesh.

“Drop the knife,” Mulder commanded.

He walked across the basement with zero fear, placing himself between Geraldine and Scully. She looked like shit, kneeling on the floor like that, both pale and green, and bleeding from a cut on her forehead.

“I said drop it,” he told Geraldine.

She didn’t even register Mulder, she was looking right past him at the stairs where Suzi was now standing at the bottom of them.

“Where have you been?” Geraldine asked.

Scully frowned, her gaze going to Suzi. Had she been in on this too and deserted her post? Was the mayor keeping her hidden and safe?

“Drop your knife, Mayor Fisk.” Mulder said it louder this time, wanting to get through to her, to make her see him.

Geraldine’s hand trembled and the knife clattered to the floor. Her gaze never left Suzi. “Tell me,” she said. “I’ve only wanted a chat.”

“I have nothing to say to you,” Suzi spoke, her words bitter.

“I want your hands up,” Mulder told Geraldine firmly. “Move away from the knife and get down on the ground, all the way down, face down.”

Geraldine still hadn’t acknowledged Mulder. She only saw Suzi as tears threatened to fall. “You don’t understand what you’re doing, Suzanne. If you ruin this town, you’ll lose her.”

“I’ve already lost her,” Suzi replied with a pained expression on her face. “I’ve lost so much. Now listen to Agent Mulder. It’s over.”

Geraldine finally looked at Mulder and stiffened as if realizing she wasn’t alone here. She gave him a tight lipped smile.

“Your time expired,” she said. “I’ll have to reschedule you for our service.”

“Get down on the ground,” Mulder commanded. “Now.” There were too many weapons near her to approach. He needed her down so he could cuff her and get Scully some help.

Geraldine leaned toward the floor, arms outstretched, preparing to get on her knees, but then she grabbed the knife and stood tall.

“No!” Suzi yelled.

“Drop it!” Mulder raised his voice as well, he was tired of these games.

A sweet, tight lipped smile stayed on Geraldine’s face as she jammed the knife into her abdomen. Scully gasped and Mulder watched in horror as Geraldine yanked the knife up, doing herself in just as he had seen that creature unravel itself in the basement of Shelby Manor.

She didn’t make it far before she collapsed to the ground, her blood beginning to pool around her. Suzi began to cry and Mulder holstered his gun so he could get Scully out of the handcuffs.

“Call 911,” Scully told him as he freed her, then she looked at Suzi. “Grab me some robes.”

Mulder headed upstairs to call an ambulance since he had no cell reception in the basement while Scully quickly approached Geraldine and knelt at her side. Her eyes were glazed over, but there was still light in them. Her hands had fallen away from the knife, which stuck straight out of her and moved as she breathed.

Suzi brought the robes to Scully, her tears no longer present, but her cheeks were still wet. Scully used her good arm as she grabbed the robes and bunched them up so she could press them against Geraldine’s wound.

“Hang in there,” Scully told her because she wanted some fucking answers.

“I did right.” Geraldine rasped out and a moment later, she was gone.

“Fuck,” Scully muttered and sat back on her heels.

Her left arm hung limply at her side. Her lower back, her hips, and shoulder were hurting, throbbing, and she had a headache on the left side of her skull which was quickly spreading. Her adrenaline was beginning to wear off and she was starting to feel like she might pass out.

“Mulder…” Scully tried to call out to him, but his name barely made a sound.

“Hey!” Suzi yelled toward the staircase and ran over to it. “Hey, she needs you!”

Mulder was there a moment later, a familiar blur that helped bring Scully to her feet, to move her away from the dead mayor, from the nightmare. He carefully led her up the stairs and to a bench in the room with the fireplace.

“Easy,” he spoke gently.

Scully clung to him, one hand tightly gripping his shirt with the huge Steelers helmet on the front. She lifted her gaze to meet his eye.

“I thought you were dead,” she said.

Mulder nodded and sat down beside her. “I thought you were too when we found the truck.”

“You and Suzi?” Scully asked, surprised. What the hell had happened to Mulder these last few hours?

“Yeah,” he answered and took her hand.

“What happened?” she replied, her voice tightening up.

Sirens sounded in the distance. Mulder squeezed her hand gently before releasing it. He stood and crossed to the door so he could open it, let in some air and allow the paramedics to tend to Scully. She tried to stand and follow him, wanting to get outside of this cabin. She didn’t even make it a step when the room shifted.

“Mulder.”

He turned and was surprised to see her standing. Mulder took four wide steps to get back to her quickly. She was unsteady and grabbed him immediately. Mulder carefully eased her back down to sit.

“I’m right here.” He leaned in and kissed her head, his hand holding hers. “I’m not leaving.” Another firm kiss. “I’m right here.”

Scully awoke in a bright hospital room, having dozed off after her morning dose of pain medicine. She reached over with her right hand to raise the bed into a sitting position, groaning softly at the ache in her side and back.

Her left arm was in a sling, positioned perfectly to allow for optimum healing. She luckily didn’t need any surgery or stitches, but it would be months of healing and physical therapy to be back to her normal self.

There was a soft knock on her open hospital room door before Mulder trotted in without waiting for a response. He flashed a bright smile, he was looking refreshed, and he carried a white paper bag and a disposable cup with a lid and bright red straw.

“Cute sling,” he commented and she frowned at him. “Brought you a BLT and a chocolate shake.”

He was rewarded with a smile now. Mulder brought her tray table over and helped set up the food and shake for her since she only had one good arm.

“I’m guessing I’ll be doing all the paperwork, huh?” he commented. She’d be pretty useless trying to write or type or shuffle around papers with only one arm.

“Thank you for volunteering,” Scully teased and sipped her shake. “Luckily it was only a minor fracture.”

Though her entire upper arm was sporting a nasty multicolored bruise and was still swollen. Her shoulder on the same side was bruised, her side and neck were sore, and everything was swollen. It felt like she had been hit by a car.

“Had you been here all night?” Scully asked because everything after being tossed down some stairs was a bit of a blur.

“I told you I wasn’t leaving,” Mulder said and pulled one of the guest chairs closer to her bed. “Only dipped when they wanted to bathe you and when you fell asleep a bit ago. Thought I would pick you up some lunch.”

“I appreciate it,” Scully responded and tugged a piece of crispy bacon from her sandwich. “Are you going to finally tell me why I almost died yesterday because you wouldn’t answer your phone?” She munched on the bacon.

“You don’t remember what I said last night?” he asked with a lift of his eyebrows.

Hers drew together, she wished she did. “No.”

“Well, they did have you on a lot of pain medicine,” Mulder commented. There was a brief return of the Amy that had gone on about Wonderland.

“Carl took me to the junkyard and I was ambushed by some guys in robes,” he continued, rehashing the same story he told her last night. “Came to at the mine, all tied up, but they probably let Carl do it because he did a crappy job. He was there with a couple other guys that had been at the bar and cookout. The guy with the beard was there, too. They allowed me one last phone call to you and then they were going to toss me into the hole.”

“That’s when I appeared.” It was Suzi, in the hospital doorway, a vase of flowers in her hands. “Are you up for visitors?”

Scully's recollection of Suzi being there was hazy. She eagerly nodded. “Yes, come in.”

Suzi approached slowly and carefully placed the vase of flowers on the nightstand beside the bed. She offered Scully a small smile.

“Suzi ran out of the woods and started taking photos with a disposable camera,” Mulder explained. “Most of the guys chased after her and I used the distraction to get out of the ropes. Then I tripped one of the remaining guys and he fell into the hole. Carl tried to help him out and I ran and hid. Suzi found me and we got out of there. I tried calling you, but you didn’t answer. We went back to the mine since I knew you’d go there looking for me, but you were gone. It was just the truck, left running, and all that stuff up front. Suzi thought they might’ve taken you to the cabin.”

It sounded familiar to Scully, what Mulder was telling her, but she was glad he was reminding her of what happened. She wondered if she would ever fully remember last night on her own. Her gaze went to Suzi, who was standing quietly near the bed.

“Why have you been hiding?” Scully asked her.

“Because I was going to expose them, I just needed more proof,” Suzi answered. “I was the one who wrote that note and left it in the mailbox. I planned to meet you at Miller’s, but I talked myself into thinking you were some ruse set up by Mayor Fisk. She took my camera and I barely got away from her with my life. There were photos on the film of meetings in the junkyard and the kill room in the cabin, bloody ropes at the mine. Since she had my camera, I knew I needed more, and that’s why I was at the mine last night.”

Scully was drawing in bits and pieces from her mind, trying to put them back in order. “There were initials on the camera strap…”

“Mine and Carolyn Fisk, Geraldine’s daughter,” Suzi said, her tone dropping a bit and she glanced away briefly. “They scrubbed her from the town, too. Mayor Fisk convinced everyone she left, that she ran away, and told them all to erase her. They listened to her, they always do. She used to be very charismatic, she was always there to provide, to fundraise, to rally the neighbors to help one another. They fell for it.”

Scully glanced over at Mulder, he was wearing a somber expression. He heard this story already, knew the answers. She turned back toward Suzi. “What happened to Carolyn?”

Suzi drew in a slow breath and offered up a tight smile. “We were in love. It was almost ten years ago… Mayor Fisk forbade us to date, but Carolyn didn’t care. We spent all our free time together. We would go for hikes. I loved photography and she was always a willing model.”

The smile on Suzi’s face softened and became more natural. She reached into her purse and slid out a photograph. She passed the photo to Scully. There was a smiling blonde haired woman wearing a dress and sitting within a field of wildflowers.

“She was beautiful,” Scully commented.

“She was,” Suzi agreed and took the photo back. She returned it to its proper place in her purse. “One hike, we headed up past the power lines and over the other side of the mountain. Lots of young people used to go up there. It was beautiful and private. I… I was taking photos…”

Suzi toyed with the hem of her shirt and wouldn’t make eye contact now. Her voice was shaky. “The ground just… it just caved in. Carolyn screamed and then it was nothing. An echo and nothing. I ran over and looked down. The hole wasn’t much more than the size of a manhole. Smoke was pouring out and I ran all the way back to town and flagged Officer Buddy down. Well, Chief Buddy now. I told him what happened and he… he said we had to call the mayor first.

“We went back to the spot, they never called fire and rescue, nothing.” Suzi sniffled and looked up at Scully. “I told them what happened, that we had to go in and get her back. They called me a liar. They fenced off the whole area. Mayor Fisk announced her daughter left town because she was unhappy and insisted we all needed to continue to do right. No one believed me, except my parents, but we were shunned when I told the truth. I stopped telling it, started drinking.”

“I am so sorry,” Scully told her, the words sincere and sad.

Suzi forced a tight smile. She appreciated the sentiment, but it was painful every time she thought of that day.

“I sobered up about a year ago,” she said. “Once I was clear headed, I started to notice it. The way everyone bent over backwards, the way some people gathered together, and then the deaths. Investigating helped keep me sober and I was going to expose them when the mayor cornered me, threatened me. She took my camera, Chief Buddy was there as back up, and I ran. I was at a smoking mine entrance about four miles from where we were last night. Buddy shot at me. I still wanted to expose them and I was trying to find the best way to do it, and then I saw you guys at Dale’s house and I knew he wasn’t Scott. I thought maybe you came to help.”

“And she helped me,” Mulder added. “Wouldn’t have made it out without her. We took the truck from the mine and figured they didn’t throw you down it if they left the truck and everything inside of it there.”

“The book, those dolls…” Scully shuddered, her lunch was going uneaten. This was all too riveting and it chased away any hunger.

“It was Mayor Fisk’s lair,” Mulder replied. “Buddy was the only one who knew about it other than the mayor.”

“So she was making voodoo dolls?” Scully asked. “She was murdering people?”

“She was setting it in motion,” Suzi stated. “She thought she was helping the town. After Carolyn died, there were other problems with the ground. It started to split apart, there were shifts and smoke and smells. The mines were on fire, but she denied and hid and buried it. She didn’t want to lose her town. She thought her daughter was the first sacrifice.”

“Buddy told the police she made a doll for every person in town and took care of them as if it was taking care of them in real life,” Mulder explained. A bewildered cop had given him the rundown over the phone after Buddy fessed up. “Buddy said she cracked after Carolyn died, convinced she could have saved her with a doll. If people were getting sick, if they were dying, or suspecting too much, she would create life sized dolls, like what we saw in the junkyard. She would give them to the Order and they would carry out her wishes to sacrifice the person and the doll to the mines. She believed it calmed the fire.”

“And they believed that?” Scully asked incredulously.

“She took care of them, especially financially,” Mulder said. “Chief Buddy was egging it on. He was setting himself up to take over as mayor. He showed up at the cabin soon after the ambulance arrived, but cops from the neighboring town were already there to arrest him. I called them for backup after you didn’t answer. Carl and some of the other members of the Order were arrested, too. They were rounded up with Suzi’s help.” Mulder offered Suzi a small smile.

“What about Todd?” Scully glanced between them, unsure of who would have the answer. “Was he in on it, too?”

“I don’t think so, but he’s being held,” Mulder told her. “It’s going to take a while to sort out who was directly involved and who knew about it, but did nothing.”

“Scott’s dad and his wife confronted Mayor Fisk,” Suzi confided. “Carl knew that, they were at the bar together and Dale told him. He died soon after. I’ve heard people whispering about the deaths, but no one in town would raise their voice against them. They didn’t want to be next.”

“It was a town of people pretending to be perfect, but living in fear of losing everything,” Mulder added.

“They were so wrapped up in the perfection, the safety and security, the belief that it wouldn’t happen to them that they ignored it when it was happening to others,” Suzi added, her tone and expression somber. “I’m sorry I brought you both into this mess. But if you hadn’t come, I may not have been able to get away. They were watching for me.”

“We’re glad we could help,” Mulder responded. He was glad they finally got to the bottom of this case and put an end to it.

Suzi glanced at her watch and looked at Scully. “I hope you get well soon. If you’ll excuse me, I have a meeting with an old friend.”

“Of course,” Scully replied and offered a tight smile.

Mulder stood and walked Suzi to the open doorway. “We’ll be in touch about the case.”

Scully watched Suzi leave and her head felt heavy with information. Her gaze fell on her partner as he came back to her and sat back down in his former spot. He eyed her now cold lunch and was about to ask if she was okay when she spoke.

“That was insanity, Mulder.” Scully shook her head slowly. “That the town would allow themselves to be murdered… picked off…”

“But you duck your head and stay in line and you’re all taken care of,” he added.

“Those with a backbone were murdered,” she said. She couldn’t believe so many people turned a blind eye to it, but there was something about the town that was off, different. Like they were in some kind of bubble, some other place. A Wonderland that didn’t make sense to the outsiders.

“And the ones responsible will spend the rest of their lives in jail,” Mulder told her.

“What about the mine fires?” Scully reached for her chocolate shake and took a sip.

“The EPA is rolling into town as we speak,” he answered. The case was wrapping up and he was going to have so much paperwork to do.

“Good.” She breathed out slowly. “That’s good.” She fell silent, her brain still trying to fully sort and organize and understand the entire ordeal.

“But you know, Scully, there is still one mystery we haven’t solved,” Mulder spoke up, eyeing her a bit playfully.

She frowned at him. “What’s that?”

“What I saw that day in Shelby Manor,” he told her. “In the basement. One of those human sized dolls was moving on its own.”

Scully realized she couldn’t explain what had happened in the basement, but perhaps Mulder had seen some kind of thing there. Those figures Geraldine Fisk had created were real, he might not have imagined it.

“Well…” she said slowly, thinking. “It’s a known fact the house is haunted.”

Mulder’s eyes widened in surprise and a smile tugged at his lips. “You think I saw a ghost?”

“No,” she immediately replied. “But you saw something. I’m not going to try to convince you otherwise.”

“You believe me,” he said, his words holding some awe as he played around with her.

“I believe in you,” Scully corrected and that damn smile on his face that formed was doing her in. She felt her cheeks growing warm.

“Thanks, babe,” Mulder replied.

He got up and kissed her temple and she swatted him away with her good arm, but he sidestepped away from it with a chuckle. Her cheeks reddened and she was well aware of her affection for him.

She decided right then he could call her ‘babe.’ It could be their running joke, but she would hold it close to her heart because one day, maybe, it might not be said in jest. One day, she might say it back with everything he meant to her placed gently inside it.