Trick or Treat!

Through the Fire 12/13
Chapter Twelve: On Halloween Night
by jordan

She might argue, she might struggle. It would do no good. There are forces that can't be stopped, huge shifts of paradigms moving as slowly and inexorably as the drift of continents, that have placed them here at this moment, walking up the steps to Mulder's mother's house with their hands clenched together in a white knuckled grip.

He opens the door and they go inside, Scully first. In the foyer she can't look into his eyes. She is more embarrassed than she has ever been before, terrified, because once it's done, it can't be taken back. The brakes are on, but the car is skidding down the side of a cliff. Still, she follows him into the bedroom, and then lets him push her gently ahead of him. When he closes the door it is pitch black, not even the faint light of a digital clock to relieve the blind dark.

And that makes it easier. Easier, too, when she puts her hands on his shoulders and feels his body shivering like hers, with fear and desire.

He kisses her and this time there can be only one finale to such an overture. They move slowly together, as if dancing, trying to not trip over furniture. Mulder's tongue explores the mystery of her mouth, sweeps over her teeth, thrusts in and slides out in a way that makes her go rigid and relax, rigid and relax. He has both hands fumbling at her blouse and she feels his knuckles on her breasts, brushing them with an accidental touch that is somehow more electric than when he had been deliberately groping her.

But it's going too fast for Scully and she's too afraid that something will happen, the phone will ring, the doorbell will chime, a ghost will slam into the kitchen. She needs some kind of control, something that will keep her from falling, falling...

At that moment, Mulder backs into something and is knocked off balance; the backs of his knees bump the bed and he goes down abruptly into a sitting position. Scully lets herself slide down his body until she is on her knees between his legs. She works at his belt buckle, her fingers feeling the soft cotton of his shirt as he pulls it loose, the faintly leather scented belt, the rough fabric of the denim jeans. She hears the phone thump to the floor as it falls from his pocket when his pants come down.

His erection springs free, and he makes a sound between a sob and a groan when she takes him in her mouth. He bends all the way over and lays his cheek on the top of her head with a gesture so sweet it almost steals the eroticism from the moment.

But not quite. Scully licks all along the base of his penis, from shaft to tip, and closes her hot tight wet mouth around him with a suction that is gentle and urgent and if it goes on one more minute, it will be the final act of this scene.

She is pulling, sucking, licking, and it takes all of his self control to put his hands on her arms and pull her up on top of him, so that they go over onto the bed together, breast to breast.

The clothes do not come off easily. There are buttons that stick in the holes and zippers that snag and Scully is wearing pantyhose, which peels off like a giant condom and even in the dark she wants to put her hand over her sex to hide it from him as he tries to pull the hose up in strings like spaghetti and throw it on the floor, but the nylon sticks to the chenille bedspread so they choose to ignore it. His shorts are already off; he is naked before she is, naked on top of her. He nuzzles and sucks at her breasts like a puppy, dragging his body down hers until his face finds the stiff pubic hairs between her thighs, and he probes with his tongue, darting licks, as his hands pull the resisting thighs apart.

Scully sees the edge and wants to jump, wants to die right now in his embrace, with his tongue furious and hot between her legs, rasping like a cat's tongue, so quick, lapping at her greedily; who knew he would have this down to an art form?

She doesn't want to come until he's inside her, so she tugs gently at him and he rises up like some giant panther in the dark, and mounts her, and she closes her fingers around his penis, hot and damp and bigger than she expected, thrusting a little against the warmth of her palm, and she guides it to her entrance, tensing anxiously at his eagerness.

But then his touch changes, turns incredibly gentle; he might be slipping a candy into her mouth for all the force he uses. Still, she feels the tip compress as it enters her, and feels his penis wedging inside her like a thick cucumber, but sooo slick, sooo slow, the burning itch scratched at last inch by inch as he lowers his weight onto her body, stretching her with a sensation that would be pain if it went one more step, but it doesn't; there is nothing here but a pleasure like warm honey, tight and slick and sweet.

His trembling tells her how much control this is costing him. Hers is more of the nature of an earthquake about to happen. She is vibrating like a tuning fork. The signs are all there, but she's holding back, afraid to fall, so afraid even now to spiral down off the edge of that steep precipice, which in fact is steepening now with each thrust, each roll of her hips. He is fucking her. It's happening too fast to quite grasp it but in this world, at this moment, Mulder is fucking Scully, and she wants it to happen more than she's ever wanted anything in her life.

He has been kissing her gently from shoulder to throat, up the side of her jaw, along her brow. She twists her head around and opens her mouth under his, and sucks at his tongue, and he kisses her feverishly, thrusting his hips as hard and fast as he can, and Scully is climbing, climbing, then skyrocketing loose from the earth, towards the stars, at such blinding white hot speed that there isn't anything else but this this this this this-this-this-this-this-this-

And now at last, the fall she so feared, as she reaches the apogee of sensation and then thunders down, crying out from some place she has never been before, and never imagined existed. Mulder groans against her throat, his strength astonishing, his speed frantic as he rushes to the edge to leap off into the abyss after her.

There is the primal beating of drums, the long purple hum of the cosmos, a flicker of light as it must have looked at the beginning of time.

Then silence.

Hearts slowing together, finding a mutual rythm. Bodies, having done their job of transporting souls to Paradise, now falling away from each other in exhaustion.

How could I have never realized before, she wonders dreamily afterwards, with her chin tucked in his collarbone and her hand feather light on his sweating chest, that even falling is a form of flight?

*********

Midnight.

Strangely enough, Scully knew she could sleep now without dreaming, that the time of dreaming was over. She sighed, then winced as Mulder's stroking fingers came across the bandaged area under her left arm.

"Mmmm?" He kissed around the area in sympathy. "What happened here?" he asked.

Scully smiled up into the dark. "A little accident," she said.

********

Memphis, Tennessee
Oct 26, 10PM
On the Hatter's Mill Bridge

Two police cars had blocked the road ahead on either side of the bridge. In the front seat with Officer David Barnes, Scully leaned forward as if that would make the car go faster, and scanned the scene anxiously. There had been this terrible, pushing urgency in her since she arrived at Memphis International, as if she was racing against some sort of deadline. Even so, she had taken a cab to the nearest grocery store to buy what she needed before going to the police station.

Now she saw Spender and Fowley standing on the bridge, talking. Almost before the car came to a full stop she jumped out and ran towards them.

A police officer moved as if to block her path and she held her ID up like a talisman to ward him off. He stepped back, knowing he should have examined it more closely, but intimidated by her air of authority.

"Agent Fowley."

Diana Fowley turned to her, eyes narrowing, clearly displeased. "What are you doing here, Scully?"

Spender looked surprised, but not unhappy to see her. "We wanted to talk to you anyway," he said. "We didn't realize you were working on this case, too."

"There's no time. The officer who brought me here from the station said they'd found some bones?"

Fowley said, "I don't see that--"

"A child's bones," Spender told her. "Some kids going fishing out here found the skull. They haven't matched the dental records yet because the dentist went fishing for the weekend, but we're pretty sure it's going to be Paul Landers, the missing kid."

Sgt. Alzono approached them, looking closely at Scully. "Agent Scully? Raul Alzono."

They shook hands. Scully said, "Have you notified the CDC yet?"

"Yes, and they told us not to let anyone in or out of the area until they get here. I haven't let anyone touch the bones, and the kids that found them are in quarantine at the hospital."

"Excellent, Sergeant." Scully's voice held a mixture of relief and admiration. She turned to the other agents. "I think the first thing to do is be sure everyone knows that every single scrap of human remains must be considered contaminated and highly dangerous." The officers glanced at them uneasily. Even with latex gloves on, they were aware of the cases of the teenagers, and unhappy about the whole situation.

Alzono said, "You're a doctor, right?"

"That's right. And until an official cleanup squad arrives, you've got to make sure this entire area is cordoned off and kept pristine, not only for evidence of a crime against the child, but--""

A voice in Scully's head spoke as clearly as if she was dreaming.

"Don't look into its eyes, lass." For a second she thought someone else had spoken the words aloud.

"Dr. Scully?" Alzono prompted.

Her gaze came to rest on the dark area over the bridge, where the sloping cement of the drainage wall met the grass. A shadow moved slightly, almost imperceptibly. There was some kind of resulting motion on the bridge, a vibration; Scully could feel it through the soles of her shoes.

An aluminum railing with wooden posts ran along both sides of the bridge. The only way to see under the bridge was to climb over the railing and crawl under.

The four officers at the other end of the bridge, doing exactly that, were almost thirty yards away, clambering over the barrier. Alzono, who was looking at her curiously, was the only armed police officer at her end, though Fowley and Spender were looking at her now, too.

Scully said very quietly, "Have you searched this area yet, Sergeant?"

The shadow solidified, simply filled in like dirty water drying into mud. She could feel the wave of heat radiating off it as it drew itself up...

"We're doing that right now, mam'n," he said, even as the four officers at the other end of the bridge went out of sight."I'm waiting for backup right now."

Scully realized that what she was looking at, what she could not look away from, was a pair of eyes watching her from the shadows.

She reached into her shoulder bag, the carryall she had brought empty from Washington, and drew out the items she had bought at the grocery store. A big can of lighter fuel for a barbecue grill and a bright yellow disposable cigarette lighter.

Touching the objects seemed to break the spell; she looked down. "Sergeant, there's someone under the bridge, just over there," she said, pointing without looking up.

Silence.

When she looked up again, Spender and Fowley were standing with their mouths open, staring. Alzono looked like someone caught in a freeze frame, his hand half raised as if about to point at the danger that was taking long strange steps towards them at that moment.

Scully turned, avoiding looking at its head, which was probably just as well for her sanity. She flipped open the top of the can.

The creature began to uncurl its arms. Scully saw the impossibly long reach and realized she had less time than she thought before it got to her.

It was, unmistakably, Thomas Hagen. The blonde hair was still there, like a silly wig on the round, turtle-like head. She could feel the pull of its eyes as it neared them, making a hissing noise, see the height of it, at least eight or nine feet, and the double jointed legs doing horrible things to her concept of walking as it crawled up the side of the drainage ditch.

It said, "Daaaay....nuh..."

For one sickening instant she thought the voice was more Hagen than creature, but there was nothing Hagenlike in the strangely familiar form he had assumed. A deep, deep rage curled in her belly, something she hadn't guessed about herself until this moment. They'd won the last round she and Mulder had fought, beaten them both to the ground and escaped. But not this time.

She looked at the other people on the bridge, Alzono, who seemed genuinely in some sort of trance, and Spender and Fowley, who looked just too stunned to move, too shocked to know what to do.

"Don't look at it!" Scully shouted, realizing that from that angle probably only Alzono could see its eyes. "Get off the bridge!"

Then it leaped. The legs had been crouching, muscles tensing like springs, for a leap that must have covered fifteen feet, clearing the rail easily and coming to land in front of her.

Scully stood her ground even while it was in the air, and braved one hard look at it as she squirted up with the lighter fluid, making sure to get its head. Less than a yard from her, it opened its mouth with a roar that seemed to snap Alzono out of his daze. But Scully had already scratched the lighter into flame, and although it made a pass at her hand as if to slap the lighter away, the creature cried out with fear. Scully squirted it again, and again, until it held an armlike limb up and skittered backwards defensively.

"Sorry,Tom," she muttered, and threw the lighter at it.

Unfortunately, the instant she released the spring valve, the flame extinguished.

"Oh, shi--"

Whatever Scully was going to do next, she never got the chance. Raul Alzono flung his body in front of hers, knocking her completely over the rail and down into the grass on the other side, as he confronted the creature with his .45 automatic. The creature was already on him when he pulled the trigger, and the muzzle flash set off the highly combustible lighter fluid.

Although Scully banged against some pipes as she rolled down the ditch, cutting her ribs painfully, she was spared the explosion that instantly followed the sound of the gunshot. She only heard the muffled BOOM and felt the resulting shock wave in her back teeth. She got only a blinding glimpse of the fireball shooting up from the bridge.

Something howling, something screeching, something smashing into the rail as it flailed and danced overhead. Scully curled up in a ball with her hands over her ears and her eyes squeezed tightly shut like a frightened child until the noise stopped.

By the time she managed to crawl back up to the rail, both Alzono and the creature were almost totally incinerated, the intensity of the fire actually melting the paint on the stripes of the road, and setting off a series of smaller fires along the wooden parts of the railing.

Scully sat down on the concrete wearily, her hands dangling loosely over her knees, knowing she was hurt but not how badly, feeling the numbness of shock settling in. On the opposite side of the bridge she saw Spender sitting in much the same position, undamaged, and Fowley lying face down against the railing.

Spender said, "I think she fainted, Scully."

"Is she hurt?"

He shook his head. He had a look on his face Scully couldn't identify, but didn't like. "You okay?"

"I think she fainted, Scully."

"Jeff..." He nodded at her wisely. "Yes," he said. "I think she fainted."

In the distance, the sound of the sirens roused Scully, and she pulled herself to her feet. There was still work to be done here. She went to Spender and held her hand out, and he took it but didn't try to get up.

"Come on, Jeff," she said gently. "Let's go."

Fowley was stirring, making a moaning noise. All the anger and resentment was gone from Scully by then; she only felt sorry for the two of them. Not as sorry as she would feel later, but enough so that she knelt by Fowley and began to gently inspect her for injuries.

A faint wind from the river arose, stirring the ashes on the bridge, lifting them away to merge with the pollution of the city. The other officers came clattering across the bridge to help, but there was nothing to be afraid of now.

Well, almost nothing.

*******

Tomorrow: Through the Fire