I don’t personally find this very scary, but it’s a bit weird. Around 5 years ago I moved into my current house, and it’s quite a bit bigger than my last house. Being very superstitious, I spent my first few weeks here cleansing the place with magic, as we are a very long line of Celtic magicians.
In the basement there’s a really deep hole that leads to the house sewer system with a flimsy wooden lid that was glued down. Just being around the hole gives all of us the chills, so we are extra careful about it. At night, being the only one who sleeps down there and I don’t have proper walls, I can hear scratching from beneath the lid and the glue keeping it on is slowly peeling away. We can’t seem to banish the thing, so instead we hold it in the highest respects. At night I have gotten into the habit of walking past the hole and saying goodnight to it. On loud days, ‘Spoonman’ gets really loud at night and pounds on the lid, unless we set out a saucer of cream just beside the hole.
The only thing that really creeps my out about Spoonman is that once I fell asleep in the basement living room just beside his hole. I woke up late that night with something curled around my body and purring like a cat, and the lid was off the hole. When morning came, the lid was back on, but the entire right side of the glue ring was peeled up. And I smelled awful.
P.S. We call the thing Spoonman because it seems to really enjoy the song ‘Spoonman’ by Soundgarden
Fuck Yeah Nightmares Mod James: 7/10 This is super strange, dude. I dig it. Thanks for sharing the scares!
What the Fuck is this?! Going through that mirror was supposed to put me where i wanted most to be in the world, but instead I’m stuck in this shitty little basement with the most pretending cleric I’ve ever seen, an elf with a giant sword who’s OBVIOUSLY compensating, and a drugged up tiefling who just picked his nose and ate it! What the fuck?!
A mage who just walked out of a hole in space time and most definitely did not end up where they wanted to be
The “locked in a room” trope forces characters to spend time together, often characters who normally wouldn’t. It can help them learn about each other and develop their relationship in a positive way, or it can be disastrous. Feel free to add more! Send one for our muses:
: stuck in an elevator together
: trapped in a room together during a quarantine
: in a waiting room while they have loved ones in surgery
: alone in a train car when the train gets delayed
: adrift in a life raft
: sitting next to each other on an international flight
: stranded by a roadside together
: sharing a jail cell
: stuck in a basement after an earthquake
: sharing a run away hot air balloon
: locked in a closet by a friend who just wants them to get along (or possibly hook up)
: touring an historical (possibly haunted) building, and they get locked in overnight
: on a bridge; traffic has stopped completely due to an accident, and nobody’s going anywhere for a few hours.
: stuck on a roof together
: trapped by a spell or supernatural object (bonus points if you specify what the spell/curse is)
: pretending to be married because this quaint old couple’s bed and breakfast is the only shelter for miles, they only have one room, and they’re a bit old fashioned.
: sharing a hospital room
: stuck in a spaceship escape pod together
☢ : on a deserted island
❂ : in a bunker after the apocalypse
She was my first love and my last. My first kiss and my last.
Our first kiss wasn’t even a kiss. It was just her blowing pot smoke towards my face as we sat in her parents’ dim basement, autumn light slanting through the tiny window, pillars of pot smoke dancing in the beams. We’d skipped school to get high, unable to stomach one more day of Mr. Carruthers’ horrid take on world history (“Those who aren’t learning from stuff in the past will have to do history again”). The kiss came soon after.
Love followed, promises of undying, eternal love. One thing was different – our thing. We always kissed before and after we went anywhere, even short, minutes-long trips; the store, the gym, work. A kiss before leaving, a kiss upon return.
“Life is uncertain,” she’d always say. “I never know when I’ll be able to kiss you again.”
When the contagion came, what the media were calling The Virulence, we stuck it out, this time in my basement, minus the pot. We had one window that we could see the outside world through, one small window that let in a little natural sunlight. Walled off from the world, armed with only each other, protein bars and the water in the toilet tank, we waited for the global panic to subside.
We each made trips out for provisions and to look for something to protect our little basement fortification. She made trips by day, when the virulent were less active, mine usually at dusk. We came back with armfuls of what we could carry: cans of beans, bottled water, once an AR-15, picked from the car of some unfortunate who’d been eaten. The virulent were fast, insatiable, unkillable. Even decapitation didn’t render them harmless; they’d keep marching forward, arms swinging in wide arcs while the head still gnashed and snapped its teeth on the ground. Stupid, lying zombie movies.
She was bitten on one of her sorties. We’d kissed before she went out. She came back for one more.
She leaned in towards me, skin already ashen, eyes dead, the tendons in her neck stretching and creaking as her jaw opened wide, wider, wide enough to black out the sun, the little window, and everything I could see.
Princess, you really gotta stop fidgetin’ or I’ll just end up making it worse!”
The tiny woman she vaguely remembered lectured her while slowly trying to pull
the arrows out of Cassandra’s body, hands glowing softly with healing magic.
in this case, meant rocking back and forth while breathing heavily and desperately
fighting down the urge to vomit.
Cass managed to gasp, desperately trying to shake off the memory of the last
time she had been struck down by arrows, the warmth of the healing spell not
enough chase away the creeping cold and the sensation of snowflakes falling
down on her while she watched her brother get away. No, no, no snowflakes this
time. She wasn’t even outside. She was in some sort of basement, there were
only two arrows stuck in her, no one had left her behind… The cold still wouldn’t
go away, though.
get into fights often?” The gnomish woman snorted. Cassandra vaguely recalled
her being the missing gnome’s daughter… Hailey? Miley? Something like that. “Didn’t
think you were the type.”
to get us whatever healing items I have left in stock,” Shaun announced.
recommend doin’ that before someone takes care of that giant-ass cut across your
chest!” The gnome reprimanded him, accidentally yelling right into Cassandra’s
ear. The ringing was a good distraction, though.
“My dear, I’ve
gone toe-to-toe with an ancient dragon before. Twice,” Shaun informed her, his
usual bravado slowly returning to him. “This is nothing I can’t handle.”
“So have I,”
Cass said quietly. With one arrow removed and the wound it left behind closed
up, she could now feel the blood rushing through her veins again, trying to
fight off the cold for her. “Not in a fight, though, I just played hostess to
one. Which Mother used to say was a battle in its own right. All the
hospitality in the world didn’t keep her from killing my brother, though, and
while he sort of had that coming, I supposes that’s just what guests do to our
healing stuff, this one needs booze!” The gnome now more considerably didn’t
really yell into Cassandra’s ear. This one felt different, too, magical
somehow, and despite the volume and candor was almost pleasant.
categorize that as healing items,” Shaun declared, then Cass heard a door
after my own heart!” The gnome declared. “And I don’t say that lightly.” She
then turned around to Cassandra once more. “Okay then, Princess, one more arrow
and we’re done here!” She announced while eagerly rubbing her hands together as
they started to glow again.
“My name is
Cassandra,” Cass somehow found it in herself to remind her healer. “Cassandra
Johanna von Musel Klossowski de Rolo of Whitestone, Guardian of the Woven
think Princess is pretty apt.” The other woman said after a short pause. “I’m Kaylie.
Shorthalt, I guess, but don’t tell anyone I said that.” She winced. “You’re
the, what, sister of the white-haired asshole then?”
Cassandra laugh a little despite herself.
so,” she confirmed.
“I won’t be
holdin’ that against you, don’t worry,” Kaylie assured her for some reason. “So,
uh… You come here often?”
[LYRICS/TRANS] CODE KUNST - StrOngerrr (Feat. Loco & MINO)
LOCO When the air I breathed originated from the very bottom When even after sleeping really well in the basement of the basement, I would have phlegm stuck in my throat In the recording room, a manager of a comedian fixed my rap My first show case When wanting to wear clothes I wanted to wear was a really big deal Show me the money, show me the money I had never wanted light I had never properly earned money so I said I’ll give 100,000won to the company to perform After they rejected the stage, I heard “Has Loco become such a superstar" When I said I’ll leave to find a new nest/company They told me to pay 2 billion for penalty for breach of contract As you know, I still don’t know how they settled on half of that My mother may have begged on her knees Now, I wear what I choose to wear and breathe the air of the stage My recording studio is the smallest room in my house It seems like it became really sturdy already There’s no chance of anyone getting a piece of me Now, when they want me to perform somewhere, they say "I’ll put 100,000won in your hand, take it"
I’m gonna be stronger than Hercules Never die like a zombie Who dares to stop me Because I’m a gold calf Because I’m a gold calf I’m gonna be stronger than Hercules Never die like a zombie Who dares to stop me Because I’m a gold calf Because I’m a gold calf
MINO I was born and my family was poor Even when I appeared on TV, nothing really changed When I woke up, there was a bug next to me All I ate was tofu and yogurt One time, my member hyung who ate the same things as me ordered pizza that made me more excited than a woman would Because of those days in the past, I earn more money As you know, I get scared sometimes (reference to "Fear”) 8 words of ballad rap I can imagine how embarrassed I was when I wore knee pads for our first stage on MTV You never know know ooh You can just look at my happy self My wrists that I thought about cutting, Now they’re protected by expensive watches Thanks to reality* that I drank without any snacks* (reality is likened to alcohol, snacks eaten with alcohol) I throw up every day (throwing up after drinking too much alcohol) I say cheers again for everyone who patted my back
I’m gonna be stronger than Hercules Never die like a zombie Who dares to stop me Because I’m a gold calf Because I’m a gold calf I’m gonna be stronger than Hercules Never die like a zombie Who dares to stop me Because I’m a gold calf Because I’m a gold calf
Pre-Pilot AU, possible explanation for why Mulder is such an condescending ass to Scully in the first episode.
Tuesday, December 31,
1991 10:32 PM
The staccato clack of stilettos on tile floor echoes through
the empty basement corridor of the Hoover Building. Dana Scully hurries down
the hall, the train of her dress in one hand and the files she had spent the
last two hours digging through the FBI Archives for clutched in the other. It
was supposed to be just a quick stop before the party, but locating the files
had taken frustratingly longer than expected and the more she could not find
what she was looking for, the more she had become determined to find it. It was
a conspiracy of the filing cabinets, she was certain, and finding them had
become a personal vendetta, even if it had made her so very, very late. She
just needed to get to the parking garage, so she could get in her car and
finally be on her way, before she incurred any more tardiness-induced wrath
upon her. She reaches the end of the hallway and jams the ‘up’ button, mentally
urging the car to arrive faster. The doors finally slide open and she slips
inside, finger on ‘door close’, trying to calm her pulse, foot tapping
“Hold the door!” an unfamiliar voice shouts down the hall,
heavy footsteps growing louder.
Scully groans and jabs at the ‘door open’ button, her
military upbringing of unfailing politeness winning out over her desire to get
out of there. A large male hand clamps over the sliding metal door.
“Thanks,” her newfound elevator companion shoots her a
smile. Adonically lanky with floppy hair and oversized wire rim glasses perched
on an aquiline nose, he is dressed in a rumpled white button-down with a wide,
garish tie hanging loosely round his neck, forest green patterned with orange
triangles. A grey wool trench coat is tossed over his arm.
“Sure thing, ground floor?”
The elevator shutters to life and slowly begins its ascent.
It barely clears the first floor when it lurches to an abrupt stop with a
precarious creak. A startled yelp emerges from Scully as she grasps for the
wall railing to stay upright. The lights flicker and suddenly plunge the tiny
car into darkness. After a few moments, the sallow emergency backup lights
Scully pulls the elevator emergency phone from its case,
stabbing at the red help button to no avail; the line is dead.
“Somewhere important to be?” he drawls bemusedly, slowly
trailing his eyes down her body.
She is wearing an exquisite cobalt dress with an open back
cut down almost to the base of her spine. The top of the dress cuts modestly
across her chest and the thin straps hug her shoulders before crisscrossing the
smooth pale skin of her back. The fabric shimmers when she moves and the
flowing train brushes the top of her feet encased in silver pointy heels that
brought her almost to the height of his nose. She shifts uncomfortably under
his headed gaze, feeling naked and exposed. She crosses her arms across her
chest, causing the creamy rise of her cleavage to swell. This does not escape
“Yes, as a matter of fact, I do,” she rejoins archly. At his
non-response, she prattles to fill the awkward silence. “I was supposed to be
meeting Ethan over an hour ago and he’ll be waiting with no idea where I am and
I have no way of contacting him and I should have just left these stupid files
until Thursday but no, I just had to have them tonight because God forbid I
don’t do any work and actually relax on my vacation and now it’s New Year’s Eve
and I’m stuck in a basement elevator with…with…” she gestures helplessly,
realizing she had never asked his name.
“Mulder. Fox Mulder,” he supplies helpfully, looking even
Fox Mulder. She knew that name; everyone did. The golden boy
of the Violent Crimes Section, his profiling skills had earned him the nickname
“Spooky” at the academy.
“Oh god, I’m so sorry. You must think I’m insane.” She
places her head in her hands with a soft groan of embarrassment, fair skin
reddening. Here she is, trapped in an elevator with the infamous Spooky Mulder
and somehow she manages to be the crazy one.
Way to go, Dana. Make
a fool of yourself in front of an attractive elevator stranger. Attractive? You
have a boyfriend, Dana. A boyfriend who is probably freaking out right now
because he doesn’t know where you are.
Fox Mulder cracks a sunflower seed between his teeth and
smiles down at his tiny elevator partner, suddenly finding himself distracted
by the escaped curls from the chignon on the nape of her neck. His long fingers twitch as he fights the urge to brush them back. He’d intended for his question to be entirely
innocuous, but he’d be lying if he said wasn’t enjoying watching her stumble
over herself like a baby bird, all fluff and innocence.
His smile fades when she turns her face to look up at him.
He’s taken aback by the sheer fierceness of the blue flame, exactly the same
hue as the gown that sheathed her lithe body.
“I’m Dana Scully. It’s nice to meet you, Fox.”
He meets her proffered hand, unable to tear his eyes from
her crimson lips as they slide over the syllables of his detested first name.
He almost jerks his hand back at the first touch of her skin
on his. He could swear he’s been burned. Was the audible crack of static
electricity between them simply a result of the dry winter air or something
“Likewise” He swallows hard.
Scully reluctantly drops her hand and her eyes from his.
There’s only so long you can keep someone you just met in a polite handshake
before it turns into impolite hand holding. She steps back into the corner,
awkwardly staring at her feet, unsure of what to say next, silence blooming in
the space between them. Did he feel it too? That spark between them? Had it
been all in her head?
“So, who’s Ethan?” Mulder’s voice snaps her from her
reverie. She lifts her head to find him still fixing her with that bemused
gaze, all bright eyes and pouty lips twisting their way around another seed.
“He’s…um…my…uh…boyfriend.” The expression on his face
doesn’t change, but Scully is sure she sees a flash of disappointment darken
his eyes. “He’s a journalist.”
Really Mulder? ‘That’s
nice’? An Oxford education and esteemed psychology degree and that’s the best
you can do?
That uncomfortable silence fills the elevator car again.
“Maybe we should try the phone again?” Mulder offers. His
long body leans across her to pick up the emergency phone and Scully finds her
eyes drawn to the wide planes of his shoulders stretching under his dress
shirt. “Nope. Nothing.”
He’s suddenly standing much closer to her than he had
before, so close she could reach out and touch his chest. Which she will not
do. Because he is an elevator stranger. And she has a boyfriend.
“Don’t worry; I’m sure someone will be along soon to fix it.
Unless a shadowy government agent cuts the cable and we plunge to our death
first,” he monotones.
The lack of humor in his voice gives her the unsettling
impression that he’s not joking.
“Somehow I think we’d probably survive the one floor drop,”
she retorts, tipping her chin to look at him. “And besides, despite what all your
action hero movies may tell you, it’s nearly impossible for an elevator to
plummet in freefall. Elevator cables are regularly inspected and rarely break
and even if they did almost all elevators have at least four cables, one of
which is strong enough to hold up the entire car. And say your shadowy
government agent somehow managed to cut all the cables, there are breaking
systems activated by a mechanical speed gauge, which clamp the rails the run
down the inside of the shaft. And if this nefarious villain somehow destroyed
the safeties too, the friction from the shaft rails and air pressure underneath
the car would greatly decrease the speed until you ultimately hit the built-in
shock absorber that would cushion the impact at the bottom of the elevator
shaft. It’s simple physics, really.”
His lips twitch of their own accord. Of course, simple physics indeed. He likes women who know things.
She finishes her diatribe to find him staring at her with
that frustrating smile again. She hates it. She hates how it makes her cheeks
burn and stomach flip. There you go
again, Dana, just rambling on for no reason. Again. If he didn’t think you were a freak before, he
certainly does now. Maybe you should be the one they call “Spooky”.
“So I shouldn’t jump right before we hit the ground?”
“Only if you want broken bones.”
He wonders what else she knows.
“I guess it’s a good thing you’re a doctor then.”
He wonders what she knows about chemistry.
“I guess so.”
Mulder pulls back abruptly and clears his throat, moving to
lounge against the elevator railing, long arms stretched to either side of him,
not meeting her eyes.
Scully eases down into the corner and pulls the heeled shoes
from her feet with a slight wince. They are not the most comfortable of shoes,
but they are gorgeous and when she had seen them in the store window, she
couldn’t resist them. Besides, Melissa is always telling her she lacks a sense
of whimsy and that a bit of impulsivity is good for a person.
An unexpected shiver courses through her. She had been so
distracted fighting off the inappropriate thoughts featuring the attractive
elevator stranger, she hadn’t noticed the dropping temperature.
“Are you cold?” Mulder asks, staring down at her from his
perch, brow furrowed in concern.
“Oh no,” another shiver interrupts her nonchalant shrug.
Mulder extends his coat to her. “Here, take this. I’m not
“No, I couldn’t. I’m sure you’ll want it eventually. I’m
fine, honestly. It’s my own fault, really, for leaving mine in the car. I
wasn’t expecting to be here this long.”
“Take it,” he insists with a teasing smile. “Before your
lips turn blue.”
Unless you want me to
warm you some other way… damn it, Mulder. Who are you, Frohike? Pull yourself
together. She has a boyfriend.
He crouches down and drapes the coat across her back, his
hand lingering on her shoulder longer than necessary. It engulfs her petite
frame and she shifts infinitesimally closer to him under the pretense of
drawing the coat tighter around her herself. He pretends not to notice. It’s
warm from his body and smells like him, dark and woodsy and undeniably
She smiles gratefully up at him before dropping her eyes,
inexplicably shy, drawing her bottom lip between her teeth. “Thanks.”
“Of course.” If his New England upbringing had taught him
anything, it was how to be a gentleman. He sits down next to her, stretching
his long legs out in front of him.
“So…what are you reading?” Mulder gestures to the file in
her lap. “Anything good?”
“Cadaveric heat rigor in cases of self-immolation”
“That sounds like cheery holiday reading. Certainly gives a
new meaning to ‘chestnuts roasting on an open fire’.”
Scully laughs; Mulder decides in that instant that it’s
something he needs to hear again.
“I’m a medical doctor. I did my residency in forensic
medicine and now I teach at the Academy.”
“A doctor?” She nods at him and he leans over to whisper
lowly in her ear, “So, Dr. Scully, have you ever performed an alien autopsy?”
She laughs again, even louder this time, the sound
reverberating in the small metal car. His stomach somersaults and he grins over
at her. Yeah, he really likes that sound. He wasn’t kidding about the autopsy
Mulder shifts uncomfortably on the hard ground of the
elevator car. The chill that had settled in the car shows no signs of abating
and the temperature continues to drop. He hunches his shoulders against the
goosebumps scattering down the slope of his neck.
“See? I knew you be cold eventually,” Scully ribs
“Me? Cold? Nah. I’m far too manly to be taken down by
something as insignificant as a minute drop in temperature,” he declares.
Scully rolls her eyes at him, reaching out a finger to trail
the goosebumps on side of his neck in proof. He shivers, but not from the chill
of the air.
“Uh huh. You can save the macho act for another time, Fox.
It’s only going to get colder as the night goes on. I might be a doctor, but I
can’t bring you back from the dead if you freeze to death,” she smiles. “Come
on, we can at least share the coat.”
Scully slides the coat from her shoulders and moves closer
to him, her thigh resting along the length of his. She spreads it across their
laps, but quickly realizes it isn’t large enough to cover both of them. She
wraps her arms around her top half, now exposed to the cold air. Mulder looks
over at her, feeling slightly guilty that he’s the reason she’s no longer
snuggly and warm. The sight of her wrapped in his clothes did things to him.
Inappropriate things. Things one should not be thinking about a girl with a
Slowly, cautiously, as if to gauge her reaction, he reaches
his arm around her and rubs his large hand up and down her thin upper arm,
shifting her even closer. She goes completely still, but doesn’t move away.
“Jesus, your skin is still like ice,” he chuckles, the
friction increasing between them.
Scully sighs almost imperceptibly and her eyes slide closed
a hair longer than a blink should last. His warmth feels so good against her; she
wants to bury herself in it.
Mulder rotates his upper body and opens his arms to her
wordlessly, his eyes reflecting a silent invitation. Scully hesitates, unsure of
the proper social protocol of such a situation and unsure of how it makes her
“Just for warmth,” she clarifies in the sternest doctor
voice she can manage.
She crawls into his lap and he pulls her into his chest,
tucking her head snuggly under his collarbone. She shifts the train of her
dress so she can pull her knees towards her chest. The coldness of her tiny
hands seeps through his shirt as they settle over his breastbone and she can
feel the rapid flutter of his heartbeat thrumming through the tips of her
fingers. He draws the coat back over them and wraps his arms around her. One
arm rests one across her shoulders on top of the coat to ensure it stays tucked
up against her. The other is under the coat, directly against her curled body,
his large hand splayed across her exposed lower back like it somehow knows it
Mulder has to remind himself to breathe. Her soft hair is
inches from his nose, the floral of her shampoo wafting towards him; he wants
to bury himself in it.
“Of course, Dr. Scully,” he replies. “What else would it be
The answer they both know hangs unwillingly in the air
The rumbling of his chest reverberates through her body as
he enthusiastically expounds a dizzying array of complex theories. When she had
asked him a few moments ago what he was doing here so late on New Year’s Eve
himself, she’d expected a witty quip about psych profiles and serial killers
not taking vacations, but instead found herself the audience of a sunflower
seed fueled soliloquy on the inherently flawed nature of the Fermi Paradox and
all twenty-one possible explanations for the lack of evidence of extraterrestrial
The soft weight of her body in his lap is making it hard to
focus, very hard. He’s disconcerted by how familiar and right it feels with her
head on his shoulder and her hand on his chest. It’s been so long since he has
held anyone like this, felt the warmth of physical human connection. He’d forgotten
how much he misses it. Mulder struggles to keep a cohesive narrative as he continues
to ramble. He’s sure he sounds insane at this point. Another thing he’d learned
from that New England upbringing: blathering on about the intricacies of
alien morphology doesn’t tend to impress the ladies.
Always living up to your nickname, aren’t you Spooky? Fantastic.
Scully really does try to pay attention to what he’s saying,
but she’s constantly distracted by the pout of his lips wrapping themselves
around words like ‘interstellar’, ‘Arecibo’, and ‘synchronous gauge’. His one hand
idly trails over his coat, punctuated by sporadic gestures into the air to
emphasize his thoughts, and she can feel his touch even through thick wool. She
shifts and his arms instinctively tighten around her, the thumb of his other
hand never breaking from its rhythmic sweeps across her the soft skin of her
“Are you warming up yet?” he breaks from his monologue to
look down at her.
“I’m much better now, thanks,” she casts a small smile up at
Neither of them dares to move. The ceasing of the steady
rise and fall of his chest tells her that she isn’t the only one who stopped
breathing. She thinks she sees something flicker briefly in his eyes again
before he pulls back and resumes talking aliens and neutrino signals.
Mulder tips his wrist to look at the time, before extending
the watch towards Scully. “Hey Dana, look, it’s almost midnight.”
“Really? We’ve been in here that long?” Scully peers at the
watch face, shifting in his lap and flexing her ankles.
“The New Year shall be upon us in 10…9…8…7…” She tilts her
head back to look at him. Her eyes catch his and do not waver, his face slowly
lowering toward hers. He’s so close she can taste the salty sunflower tang of
his warm breath. They know this is wrong, but are powerless to stop it. The
unbreakable attraction of north and south poles pull them closer and closer;
it’s simple physics. Or was it chemistry?
With a sudden surge of reconnected electricity, the elevator
car jolts back to life, breaking them from their spell. The force jerks them
away from each other and Mulder tightens his grip on her to keep her from being
thrown across the car.
“Are you okay?” His brow furrows again and Scully resists
the compulsion to smooth the creases away with her lips.
“Yeah,” she stammers, unsure whether her heart is racing
from their almost-kiss or the unexpected restart of the elevator. “Yeah, I’m
“I’m good.” He reluctantly releases her from his arms and
stands, shrugging on his coat. She slides back into her heels and he offers a
hand to help her up. The elevator sounds their arrival and the metal doors
slide open. Her hand falls from his. Both know they will never speak of this
1992 12:01 AM
Scully steps out of the elevator to the shouting of a
“Look, I know she’s here! She said she had to pick some
files up and then was coming to meet me. And she never showed up! That was four
hours ago. I know her car is still in the garage, so where is she?!”
Ethan is struggling with two security guards at the end of
the hall, desperately trying to get past them. His face breaks with relief when
he sees her coming down the hall.
Scully flashes her badge to the guards and they release him
with annoyed shakes of their heads. Ethan sprints the rest of the way down the
hall and pulls her into his arms.
“Dana! Are you okay?! What happened? Where have you been?!”
“I’m fine, really. The power went out and I was stuck in the
elevator with…” she turns to gesture towards Mulder, only to find that he is no
Mulder takes the stairs two at a time back to his basement
office, determined to find out everything he can about the enigmatic elevator
partner currently consuming his thoughts. He combs through the FBI’s personnel
database until her file appears on his computer screen. Dana Scully: 28,
undergraduate degree in physics from the University of Maryland, medical degree
from Stanford, and currently an instructor at the Academy. The intrigued smile
on his face grows when he comes upon a copy of her senior thesis, ‘Einstein’s
Twin Paradox, A New Interpretation’. He was right. She does know things. He tucks
his face into the soft woolen collar of his coat; it still smells like her.
1992, 8:15 AM
“Are you familiar with an agent named Fox Mulder?”
Dana Scully freezes in panic for the length of her skipped
heartbeat before recovering quickly with a smile.
“Yes, I am.”
What did they know?
Had someone seen us? Did Fox Mulder say something about our completely platonic
New Year’s elevator tryst? Surely there couldn’t be an FBI rule against
huddling for warmth?
“By reputation,” Scully hedges carefully, praying her face
didn’t reveal anymore.
Fox Mulder shuffles through slides on his desk, looking for
best ones to illustrate the mysterious spate of unexplained deaths cropping up
across the country, connected only by the strange raised marks on the victims’
backs and an unidentifiable substance in the surrounding tissue. When Division
Chief Blevins had informed him of his new partner, it took everything in him
not to cuss out loud. Of course it was her. He should have known she was too
good to be true. Just like Diana had been. It wasn’t random coincidence or magnetic
fate that had drawn her to his hallway that night. No, she had been sent there to
spy on him, to debunk his work, to shut him down.
The staccato clack of stilettos on tile floor echoes through
the empty basement corridor of the Hoover Building. Scully clips briskly down
the hall, her briefcase slung over her shoulder. When Blevins had informed her
she had been assigned to the X-Files, with none other than her attractive
elevator stranger, she thought for sure that it was some kind of joke. The
serious unsmiling faces of the three men in the office told her otherwise. She
arrives at the office door bearing no name.
Would he say anything
about that night? Will he even remember me?
She hesitates for a moment.Willing her face to betray nothing, she takes a breath and forces
a neutral expression. She raises her fist and knocks.
“Sorry, nobody down here but the FBI’s most unwanted,” his
muffled voice comes through the door.
She opens the door to find him bent over his cluttered desk,
carefully examining slides on a light tray. He’s surrounded by stacks of
binders and files, manila folders stuffed to the brim with scrawled notes on errant
papers; pictures of skulls and humanoid corpses adorn the walls, along with a
prominent poster of a UFO flying over trees declaring ‘I Want to Believe’. The
dim lights cast sallow shadows across his face when he turns his head to look
at her, still all oversized glasses, gaudy tie, and floppy hair she wants to
brush out of his eyes. His cool steady gaze offers no acknowledgement.
“Agent Mulder. I’m Dana Scully; I’ve been assigned to work with
She extends her hand. When his skin meets hers, she could
swear she’s been burned.
this is a long one and it’s pretty intense, warnings include: violence/blood, psychological manipulation, suicide ideation and baiting, derealization, self-loathing, claustrophobia, lots of swearing and Bill generally doing what Bill does. any other tags anyone needs, just let me know.
also considerably more italics and dashes than any one person should be allowed to use, but that’s a whole other issue.
I reformatted Bill’s dialogue partway through and I think I caught everything but do let me know if I missed anything.