From Beyond (10/11)
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 10

He had to wrench the door open, immediately 
stepping back into the fresh air as the foul 
stench of rotten wood overpowered him.

It was more then that. The smell was in his 
lungs now, and he gagged uncontrollably in 
reflex. Re-entering, he headed straight 
through the first door, noting the plain 
furnishings of a table and chair standing on 
a dark red rug. Instinct told him to dig. Dig 
where? As he walked toward the table, the 
floorboards spoke to him, moaning and 
groaning of neglect. No floorboards under the 
rug, though.


        -X-

She almost left her mother behind, flying 
out of the passenger seat and heading for the 
house. She knew to go straight to his office, 
hoping she could boot the computer and get 
rid of any indecent images before her mother 
found her.

"Dana?" She called out from the 
living room.

"I'm in here, Mom!" She took a seat at the 
computer, clicking on the Internet browser 
and scrolling through his history. The 
content of his recent interests were listed 
in dated order along the left hand side of 
the page. 

"It's okay, Mom," she felt herself blushing. 
"It's not what you think."

She scanned quickly for more references to 
Della Greenberg or Gail Abercombe, but 
without success.

"There's nothing here. I don't know where to 
begin."

"What's this one?" Her mother pointed to the 
site listed at the top. After the material 
she had previously found,'Landmarks of 
Virginia' seemed too mundane to be useful. 
Why had he been looking at this?   

           -X-

He had knocked over the table and pulled the 
rug across the floor. Underneath a hatch had 
opened up to a tunnel of darkness that 
beckoned him in. There it was. The reason for 
the foul smell had not been the wood. 
Suddenly he felt his legs give way, and he 
fell to his knees, closing his eyes...

   -x-

This time he saw. He really saw. 

She was so pretty. For the first time he saw 
her as pretty, not some walking corpse 
wanting to horrify him. She sat in the car, 
talking to a young man. He'd seen the young 
man before. They sat and talked for what 
seemed like hours. Suddenly she leaves the 
car, angry. The boy pleads with her, begs 
her. He takes her in his arms and tries to 
show her. 

She screams. She spits. She begins to fist 
into his chest.  She yells the magic words, 
and all the boy can do is extend an arm and 
make contact. She falls to the floor, hitting 
her head against the bonnet of the car on the 
way down. She begins to fit uncontrollably. 
The boy knows not what to do. But another man 
does. He leaves his comfortable place 
watching from afar, and finishes the job.
             
Opening his eyes, he now understood. The 
body. She lay face down, but he knew it was 
she. Her horrific story had played through 
his mind from start to finish and now the 
hell he'd endured over the last few days 
began to make sense. He stood now, clutching 
himself. 

"We had to do it." A voice came from behind 
him. Mulder turned to come face to face with 
an older man. "She would have ruined him." 
The man knelt at the side of the body. "He 
was a good boy, my Josh. He had a future, in 
medicine. She would have ruined that."

"You did this." Mulder stated, suddenly 
feeling vulnerable in such a small space. 

"I did what I had to do. He'd have gone to 
prison for her. She was only fourteen!" He 
raised his voice, balling his fists in an 
attempt to dispel some of his hatred. "She 
was pregnant. Stupid bitch got herself 
pregnant. There was no way he could deny what 
they had done." 

He walked around now, standing over her. 
"This is where they used to meet; God knows 
his mother would have had a fit if he had 
brought her to the house. It didn't seem 
right. It didn't seem right that he would 
lose everything for that stupid little bitch. 
She'd have ruined us too, with those 
pictures. Everyone would have seen those 
nasty pictures of her. She was no loss to 
anyone."

He turned to Mulder now. "And neither are 
you."  He put his hand in his pocket, drawing 
a familiar looking weapon. A weapon issued to 
those in law enforcement. When Mulder opened 
his mouth to ask, the stranger answered his 
question. 

"Recruited from Utah three years ago. How did 
you think I knew where to find you? I knew 
you were accessing those files; I came here 
to get rid of her, before you figured it out. 
No one else would, but I know things about 
you, Fox Mulder. I know . . ." 

He lunged forward, hitting the ground in a 
heap. Mulder jumped, unable to see in the 
darkness what had rendered the man 
unconscious. His question was answered in one 
word.

Word spoken in a familiar soft voice.

"Mulder?"


       -x-

They stood together; watching the 
professionals go about their work, taking 
samples from every area of the crime scene, 
ensuring they missed nothing. Scully let her 
fingers move down his arm and into his hand, 
where he gripped her tightly.

"How did you know, Mulder? How did you know 
she'd be here?"


"I didn't. I don't even remember looking for 
this place. I just . . arrived. How did you 
find me?"

"Your computer." She looked into his eyes. 
"You know this explanation won't satisfy the 
bureau don't, you?"

"I don't care. They won't find anything to 
link me to this murder, or to Della 
Greenberg. I don't understand the link 
between the two, unless they carried out both 
attacks. Maybe there's a link between the two 
girls. Maybe Della knew their secret."

They watched as a different car pulled up, 
driven by a woman and accompanied by a 
younger man. As he jumped out of the car and 
ran to where the paramedics treated the older 
man, both Mulder and Scully recognised him 
immediately. It was the doctor that Mulder 
had walked into at the hospital.

"Mulder . . . that's . . ." 

"I know." He said. 

"I guess your visions were right. I mean, I 
don't how to explain the accuracy of what you 
dreamed, what you said."

"Not everything was right, Scully. Lots of 
things were wrong. The initial findings on 
the body show no sign of sexual assault or 
asphyxiation."

"There were in Della Greenberg though. Maybe 
that's the connection."

"Maybe." He said.

"Come on , Mulder, let's go home. My Mom's 
cooking you dinner."

      -x-


At dinner, Margaret Scully was careful not to 
ask about the night's events. Instead she 
commented on Mulder's writing, saying that 
she had friends that had read some of what he 
wrote. He didn't ask why she herself had not 
read any. She was probably happier not 
knowing half of what her daughter had seen 
and done during her nine years in the bureau. 

When it came to say goodbye, Mulder offered 
to drive them home. 

"You need to rest. You look awful! A good 
night's sleep is what you need." Maggie had 
said. "And anyway, we want to talk about you 
on the way home." 

With that they'd said their goodbyes, Scully 
promising to call as soon as she was leaving 
to come home and that the whole journey would 
have her back before midnight. He closed the 
door and flopped down on the couch, settled 
for dreamless sleep. He could not however, 
shake the memory of Della Greenberg and he 
continued to think about her as he drifted 
off.

It was the telephone that woke him. 

"Mulder, it's Skinner. I was going wait but 
Scully told me you'd want to know."

"Know what?" 

"There's no DNA evidence to match Agent 
Sniper or his son to Della Greenberg. I have 
to tell you, it looks like two completely 
different incidences. Why would you think 
they were connected?"

"Ah . . . a hunch I guess." It was all he 
could come up with.

"The same hunch that made you contact Della 
before she was killed?"

"I don't know what to say about that. Is 
there any evidence at all from the scene?"

"Not really. Violent sexual assault with no 
evidence left at the scene, I told Scully 
earlier. Bruising around the larynx suggests 
strangulation. We know more about her car's 
demise then her own."

"What do you mean?"

"Turns out her car had an enormous amount of 
salt poured into the gas tank. Whoever killed 
her must have taken advantage of the fact 
that her car had to be taken off the road. We 
might know more once we've interviewed folks 
at the local gas station."

A gentle beeping told him that another call 
demanded his attention. He said goodnight to 
Skinner and prepared to talk to Scully.

"Are you only just setting off, Scully? I 
thought you'd be home now."

"I am nearly home Mulder, but I think you 
need to come get me."

"What's up?" 

"My car died, I think. I'm on the straight 
road back into town now and I can't see any 
lights on anywhere. Think you can find me if 
I put my side lights on?"

"You sure you're not just out of gas?"

"No, I filled up about half a mile back. I 
managed to steer it off the road though. I'm 
about an hour away, in Berkenside."

His stomach churned. Berkenside wasn't five 
miles from where Della's car had been found. 
"Scully, I'm coming to get you. Don't put any 
lights on. Just sit quietly and lock the 
doors. You sure there's no sign of life 
anywhere? Nowhere you can wait?"

"No Mulder, what's wrong? Hang on . . .
someone's coming . . ."

The window smashing rang in his ears, almost 
drowning out the sound of her screams.


Continued in Chapter 11