From Beyond (3/11)
by Bonkersfm

EMAIL: bonkersfm@yahoo.com
CATEGORY:MSR CASEFILE
SPOILERS: Starts after IWTB
RATING: NC17 sex and violence
SUMMARY: Mulder and Scully's relationship is put under strain when a 
casefile leads to some bizarre behaviour on Mulders part
DISCLAIMER: mine? If only!


CHAPTER 3
(Day 2)

He woke with a start, sucking the 
air into his lungs in one huge gasp. 
He immediately stared to his right, 
to Scully who merely stirred in 
reaction to his body's violent 
reaction. He couldn't remember what 
he dreamed, only images of faces 
looking down on him, laughing at 
him. His mind searched for the 
specifics, recalling even less now 
then a moment ago. Carefully he 
extricated himself from the tangled 
sheets, not wanting to wake her. 
There was no point in both of them 
being tired and miserable tomorrow.
 
He crept downstairs, muting the 
television as soon as he switched it 
on. Surfing through the channels, 
his brain worked to quickly decipher 
which images would appeal. Then he 
saw something that really did 
appeal. It seemed a cliché scenario 
from any adult movie, with some 
helpless young brunette running 
naked through the woods, pursued by 
the typical brawn on heat. He sat 
back and considered what Scully 
would think if she caught him. It 
was an issue they had never had to 
tackle head on, as his need to watch 
such material had mostly faded once 
Scully and he had entered a physical 
relationship. There had been the odd 
occasion, when she had been at work 
and he had waited up for her. These 
times he had struggled to find 
fulfilment, knowing that soon the 
real thing would walk through the 
door and be so much better.

He watched intently as the brawn 
soon caught up, wrestling the girl 
to the floor. The subject matter 
seemed pretty bleak, and for a 
moment he went to turn it over. He 
didn't need any more austere 
thoughts right now. He picked up the 
remote and tapped the buttons. The 
channel seemed to change but the 
picture didn't. He pressed harder, 
finding the images on every channel 
to be the same – but now the picture 
was grey, the only colour being the 
red liquid seeping from her mouth. 
He moved forward now, putting his 
face closer to the screen. Then she 
turned her head.

And looked right at him.
     

*****************


He roused slowly, from what felt 
like a five-minute nap. When he 
looked at the clock he realised it 
may as well have been just that. He 
heard the familiar sounds of the 
kitchen behind him, his stomach 
churning as he saw the television 
still emitting the same type of 
material that it did last night, and 
that Scully must have come down to 
it this morning. He quickly sat up 
and switched it off, getting it 
together enough to pad into the 
kitchen where the clutter from last 
night had been cleared away. 

"Scully . . ." He placed his hands 
on her shoulders as he walked behind 
her. She turned round quickly.

"Mulder, you don't owe me any 
explanations. But just promise me 
you'll see a specialist if Monica's 
methods don't work, before this," 
she motioned to the sofa, "becomes a 
habit."

"Scully, if it's about what was on 
the TV," he followed her as she 
grabbed her coat and medical bag.

"It's not about that, Mulder, it's 
about your health . . . and your 
job. Carter called this morning. 
He's expecting something from you 
soon."

He sighed then, anxious at the 
thought of having to write anything 
in this condition. She picked up on 
this, going toward him and placing 
her free hand on his arm.

"Why don't I give you something to 
knock you out, just for today?"

He nodded reluctantly, rubbing his 
face in his hands to dispel the 
sleepy feeling that had now become a 
natural state for him.
     

*********************

Coming to, he bunched the cool 
duvet toward him, feeling refreshed 
and wide-awake for the first time in 
days. He sat up, grabbing his 
wristwatch that sat on the bedside 
table. It read four-thirty. He'd 
been asleep for nearly seven hours, 
no wonder he felt better. He swung 
his legs out of the bed, hitting a 
pair of sneakers with his feet. He 
pulled on a pair of jeans and headed 
out into the living room, noting how 
dark it seemed outside.

As he descended the stairs, he noted 
movement in the doorway of the 
kitchen. His footsteps naturally 
softened; a habit from the old days 
where at least he would have been 
armed with a gun. The movement 
suddenly had a friend, sound, making 
it real.

As the sound grew louder, he 
prepared himself, but even then he 
still jumped as the fox ran out of 
the kitchen and straight into view. 
In its mouth something moved. A 
feathered animal fought and 
struggled, trapped between the jaws 
of the creature. How awful it must 
be, he thought, to be resigned to 
imminent death but being able to do 
nothing about it but wait.

He slowly walked toward the fox, 
hoping it would drop the bird. For a 
second it simply stood, watching 
Mulder, waiting for him to approach. 
At the last moment it fled, down the 
hall toward the office. He chased 
it, jogging down the hall that 
seemed longer then ever, finally 
rounding the corner into his office.

Upon entering, he quickly checked 
himself, the freezing air hitting 
his chest like a shard of glass. 

"Scully?" He ventured forward to the 
figure sitting in his chair, facing 
the wall. It wasn't Scully; the hair 
on the head was longer, darker, like 
rat's tails.  The shoulders were 
broader and she looked wet, blue 
with cold. The chair began to turn 
slowly, revealing more of the 
figure. She faced him now, the girl 
from the TV. 


*************************


His body lifted off the bed, and 
fell with a thud. Pain filled his 
chest as he gulped huge pockets of 
air into his lungs. A dream. He'd 
dreamed it. He sat up now, fumbling 
for the wristwatch he usually left 
on the table at his bedside. Four 
thirty. He'd been asleep for nearly 
seven hours. 

As he swung his legs out onto the 
floor, he swore under his breath as 
he stubbed his toe on a stray 
sneaker. Suddenly, memories of his 
dream flooded back, even more so as 
he heard a rustling sound coming 
from the direction of the stairs. He 
got up and headed out to 
investigate. The sound grew louder, 
and he rushed a little more, half 
knowing what to expect. 

As he reached the bottom of the 
stairs, he changed his mind, heading 
straight to the office. He paused 
before the door, part of him not 
wanting to see. The handle felt cool 
in his palm, but he persisted 
anyway, curious as to whether this 
was still a dream.

"Mulder!" 

He gasped as the voice behind him 
rang sharp in the silence. The hand 
on his shoulder caused his body to 
flinch away, turning quickly. 

"God, Mulder, you scared me. Are you 
okay?" His body settled as Scully 
removed her hand, also frightened by 
his sharp reaction. 

"I'm fine, Scully. You startled me." 
They walked back into the kitchen as 
they talked.

"Sorry, I thought for a moment you 
were sleepwalking."

"Me too." He said, wiping the sweat 
from his brow. 

"Are you feeling better?" She 
removed his hand and replaced it 
with her own. "You look sick, 
Mulder, did you sleep at all?" 

"Seven hours straight. Although I 
dreamed so much I don't feel rested 
at all."

"What did you dream?" She offered 
him water from a bottle.

"I don't know yet. I haven't worked 
it out – but I want to go see 
Monica."

"Monica? Why?"

"I want to know what she did to me. 
You were there Scully, tell me what 
she said to me, to make me have 
these dreams."

"Mulder, you had the dreams before 
you saw her."

"No, I didn't have these dreams, 
Scully. I want to know what she 
said. If you won't tell me, I'll go 
see her."

He turned to go back upstairs and 
dress. When he returned, he opened 
the front door, only turning as she 
spoke one last time.

"She said. . ." She hesitated now. 
"It was nothing, Mulder, it hardly 
means a thing."

"What?"

"She told you that whatever was on 
your mind would come to the surface. 
She told you to resolve your 
demons."

He left, grimly noting the dead bird 
outside the front door.


Continued in Chapter 4