Midnight's Sorrow, Chapter 11.
Disclaimer is in Chapter 1.
This story is rated NC-17.


July 13th
Mercy Memorial Hospital
Intensive Care Unit
1:08 p.m.

Harold stepped onto the ward, a sense of detachment overcoming
him as he  navigated the small hallways.  Fatigue was catching up
with him.  He allowed the relaxing sensation to sweep over him;
things would soon be under control.  He had long since taken the
van back  to the hospital and switched the license plates back.  The
noon hour had provided him the perfect opportunity to do so, with
only one driver running, he was able to work without being noticed. 
He had then  taken the bus home and had taken it  again on his way
back to the hospital.  

Mulder was standing at the nurses' station, the phone pressed to his
ear.  He turned around as Dr. Voight approached, quickly ending
the conversation.   

"Agent Mulder, how may I help you?"  Dr. Voight offered as the
younger man turned to face him.

"Who picked up Agent Scully; who was the driver?" He
immediately demanded.

"I don't know that.  I called the for escort and arranged for her
pick-up, beyond that I don't know.   If you have questions about
that you need to speak to the escort service."

"I already did.  The license plate for the van assigned for the pick-
up was RNV394, the driver assigned to that van is Bernie
Callaway, only Bernie Callaway never picked Scully up.  He says
that he never even got the order to.  He was in the lounge with
some of the drivers from ten to ten-twenty-eight,"   Mulder
presented him with the piece of paper that he had compiled his
recently acquired information on.

Dr. Voight took the paper and studied it for a moment.  "I'm sorry,
but I can't explain this.  I've never had any trouble with the escort
service before.  I'm not certain how  I can help you with this," he
added, handing the paper back to Mulder.

"My partner is missing after you arranged for her pickup through
the hospital's escort service.  I want to know why she was even
picked up by them in the first place, when she had already agreed to
call me once you discharged her,"  Mulder demanded, his red and
white tie hung loosely around his neck, his eyes searched the
doctor's as he awaited his response.

 "If you and Ms. Scully had arrangements, I was not made aware of
them.  I discharged your partner at ten-o'-clock this morning, and
she was anxious, as are most patients, to leave the ward.  I arranged
the pick-up for her at her request."

"I find that hard to believe,"  Mulder snapped. 

"I'm not sure what else I can tell you then," he ran a hand over his
neatly styled, steel gray hair.

Mulder folded the sheet of paper and slipped it into the breast
pocket on the inside of his suit jacket. "How about telling me how
you left work today?" 

Dr. Voight crossed his arms over his chest. "Same way that I have
for the past twenty years, I took the bus."

"Immediately after your shift ended?"

"No, I slept for a bit, grabbed a quick bite, changed my clothes."

"Do you have any witnesses that can confirm this?"  

"Not while I was in my office, no, but  Nurse Miller can confirm
when I left, and the bus driver should certainly have been able to
recognize me,"   Harold frowned to himself before continuing,
"Agent Mulder, I am truly sorry for what has occurred.  I wish I
could be of further help,  but I have recently finished working  a
double shift, so if you have no further questions for me I could
really use some rest."

Mulder sighed at the floor, his hands on his hips as he thought. 
"Yeah, fine.  Just be sure to call me with any pertinent information
that you might recall." He fished a card out of his pocket and
handed it to him.

Dr. Voight accepted it.  "I'll be sure to do that," he replied  as he
slipped it into his pants pocket.  "Agent Mulder," he added before
turning away, "I hope that you find your partner soon.  I assure
you, my thoughts will be with her until you do."

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Harold Voight residence
1:20 p.m.


Scully lay in the relative silence of the basement, her wrists
throbbing.  The rag had dried out her mouth to the point where her
tongue felt as if it was on fire, which her recent struggles to unbind
herself had only further aggravated.  The discomfort had helped her
however, had kept her alert even as she rested between attempts to
break free of her restraints.  Scully repositioned herself on the floor,
her body scraping across the grit of the concrete as she planted her
back against the wall behind her and pushed herself up to sitting. 
She breathed heavily through her tender nose, steeling herself
against the spinning sensation the movement had brought, the duct
tape tugging at the sides of her face as she fought against it.  The
darkness enshrouded her surroundings in an inky blackness, leaving
her to feel her way about.  She remembered, from the brief time the
flashlight had been on, that the walls around her had been made of
fieldstone.  She felt it behind her now.  Scully breathed in a deep
breath through her sore nose and held it as she rubbed her wrists
against the rough concrete behind her that held the rock together,
pushing up and against the wall with her weak, bound, legs, for
further assistance.  The motion quickly rubbed her arms and wrists
raw as the wall bit into her exposed flesh, but she also felt the tape
around her wrist grabbing and snagging as it slowly tore and
stretched.  Scully closed her eyes tight against the stinging
sensation and hastened her movements.  The wall burned hot
against the chewed up skin on her arms as she rubbed frantically
against it, before sliding back down to the ground in an exhausted
heap.

Scully caught her breath from her hunched over position on the
floor, hoping her attempts to free her wrists would soon pay off.
She summoned what little was left of her strength as she pulled her
arms apart, straining the shredded and damaged tape that held
them.  Scully manipulated her hands as she felt the tape give away,
twisting until she had freed the first one and then brought her hands
in front of herself to remove the tape.   She quickly shoved the
broken wad of tape into her pants pocket.  The skin on her arms
and hands felt sticky and warm, Scully ignored her newest injuries
however, and moved on to the tape over her mouth. She tore it off
in one swift motion, wincing as it ripped off of her skin, and quickly
pulled the rag out of her mouth.  Scully placed the piece of tape
from her mouth in her pocket, as well as the rag.   She ran her dry
tongue over her stinging lips as she began to work on freeing her
ankles.  She skimmed her fingers over the tape, attempting to find
its edge in the dark.  Scully stopped abruptly as she heard a muffled
noise above her.  She strained to hear, the sound of her pounding
heart filling her ears in the seconds that followed.  Scully quickly
went back to work trying to unfasten the tape when she heard a
loud scraping sound above her.  She swallowed hard and backed
herself into the corner farthest from view, uncertain of what to
expect next, poising herself for action.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXX

1:23 p.m.


Mulder pressed the cell phone to his ear as he turned the steering
wheel one- handed.  He waited impatiently for a response on the
other end of the line as Skinner once again considered the events
that Mulder had relayed to him.

Skinner groaned uncomfortably before replying.  "Mulder, you
know I need to ask this, it's a standard question: could 
anything have happened recently between the two of you that may
have caused Scully to want to disappear for awhile?"  He asked
gruffly, the discomfort in his question made obvious by the strain in
his voice.

Mulder paused more  than he had intended to, the rippling sea of
cars ahead of him seemed impossibly longer as the question hit him.
He was used to asking that question himself; it was a standard in
these types of cases, just as Skinner had said.  Sometimes people
disappeared of their own will, he realized that, but the timing in the
question left Mulder a little off guard.

"Agent Mulder!"  Skinner's voice demanded from the other end, "I
asked you a question!"

Mulder shook free of the initial shock that he had felt as he
continued to stare out at the slow moving traffic ahead of him in the
heavy heat of the afternoon.  "No, no of course not."  Mulder
replied, twisting in his seat so that he could wipe some of the
perspiration off of his forehead on the shoulder of his suit as he
continued to hold both the phone and the steering wheel.  The noise
of the fan from the air conditioning had all but droned out the voice
of the A.D. when he had first called him, so Mulder had been forced
to turn the fan off and sweat.

"Well, just the same, I don't think it hurts to have you go and check
her hotel room and make sure that everything is still there." 
Skinner remarked.  "I'll send out an APB on Agent Scully, just let
me know if anything changes."

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Moxie's Motel
Bloomington, Illinois
1:35 p.m.


Mulder swung open the door to Scully's room and replaced the key
in his pants pocket.  He had half-hoped, although not expected, to
find her there, her room phone unplugged, her cell phone turned
off, sleeping soundly in the bed.  The first few words of the
reprimand he had intended to give her sat on the tip of his tongue,
just in case.  It wasn't completely unreasonable, he had told himself,
she had done just that a few nights back, but when he opened the
door he could see that she wasn't there, hadn't been there since
yesterday.  Her bed was made, the comforter pulled tight across it,
the sheets peeked out beneath it still tucked into the side of the
bed.  Housekeeping's card still sat undisturbed on the bathroom
counter.  Scully hadn't returned to the room.  Mulder pulled the
drapes open, allowing sunlight to spill in and fall  across the bed,
warming the spot that he and Scully had warmed only nights before.

He allowed himself to sit on the edge of the bed.  Anger, hurt, and
fear swirled in a storm-like state inside of him, so strong that he
swore he could taste their mix; a bitter taste on the back of his
tongue.  Scully was gone.  Mulder felt it actually would have been
easier if AD Skinner had been right, if Scully had just awoken that
morning to think that today would have been a good day to break 
Mulder's heart and leave.  If she had just decided to plunge her
small, precise hands straight through his chest wall and present  him
with his own ruined heart, he would have felt less empty.  She was
gone, but it was not of her own doing, he was certain of that, even
if his superior was not.  She was alive, however.  He couldn't
explain how he knew that any better then when he had known years
ago when she had been taken, but he did.  For how much longer,
was the question that troubled him, was what left his stomach raw
and throat tightened.  Her time was numbered, and his leads were
almost non-existent.  Mulder closed his eyes and was certain he
could feel her, the urgency, the fear; they shared these together. 
Although he knew she didn't embrace the same beliefs that he held,
he hoped, that she felt him too.  He would come for her, no matter
what it took and he would find her. 

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Harold Voight Residence
July 13th
1:24 p.m.


Scully leaned into the dark corner, forcing
herself to take slow, shallow breaths, her
heart rate accelerating with each new creak
of the stairs.  With the stone wall
supporting her back, she bent over,
trying once again to find the edge of the
tape that bound her ankles together. Her
fingertips searched in desperation as the
footsteps grew closer still.  She visualized
his approach as she fumbled with the tape,
his position, how he would approach, how he
would possibly react to her absence.  Scully
needed the element of surprise, but she
realized that it would do little good without
full mobility.

Scully took a slow breath, steadying herself
as he reached the basement floor.  She gave
up on the tape and stood once again,
realizing the surge of fear she felt was
worth its weight in adrenaline, if she could
just keep it under control.  She listened to
the scrape of his shoes on the concrete floor
as he approached, concentrating and silent.

The noise stopped and the flashlight beam
swept the room.

"Agent Scully?"  Harold questioned almost
playfully, as if they had been engaging in
some innocent lover's game.  He swept the
beam across the room once again before taking
a step in.

Scully waited, hidden in the corner by the
entrance, just inches from his side, her
breath held.

"Come on out now, Dana."  He added, turning
himself so that  the flashlight beam
illuminated her corner.

Scully swung before the light reached her,
knocking the flashlight out of his
unsuspecting hands before he realized her
position.  She lunged forwards as it hit the
ground loudly, knocking Dr. Voight to the
floor.  She landed  awkwardly across his
chest, her taped ankles making it impossible
to restrain him, so once again she attempted
to react before him.  As he tried to push
himself back up Scully grabbed a fistful of
hair on his forehead and quickly slammed his
head back onto the basement floor.  

Harold groaned loudly and easily knocked her
off to the side as he stood, grabbing her up
by the arm she had attempted to hold him
with.  Harold swung her around quickly,
leaving Scully's restrained legs to drag
across the floor as he did so, and slammed
her face first into the wall. 

Scully cried out as sharp pain flashed across
her face and nose, fighting to stay conscious
as bright flashes of light sparked behind her
closed eyes.  

"You've been a very bad girl, Dana."  Dr.
Voight warned from behind her, still holding
her tight against the wall. "I think you
could use a lesson on etiquette."  He pulled
her backward and slammed her into the wall
again.

Scully felt a warm sensation overtake her as
the pain spread through her face once again. 
This time darkness followed the bright
flashes of light, a hollow vortex of
blackness that dragged her into itself and
away from the pain and her fight.  Scully
felt her body grow limp as she was pulled
away from herself into a quiet world.


XXXXXXXXXXXXXX


Harold watched her body slump to the floor,
as the muffled sound of his telephone ringing
upstairs momentarily gained his attention. 
He chose to ignore it; this women had caused
trouble for him and he needed to decide the
best course of action for her. He felt
confused as he watched her lie there,
motionless.  The dreams about her had been so
strong, he was certain he was right about
them, about her; but now this?   He had half
a mind to kill her right now, before she
regained consciousness.  Harold bent down as
the noise from the phone ceased, and turned
her limp body over onto her back.

"Muhler..."  She moaned softly as he handled
her, her eyes still closed.  Blood oozed from
the corner of her injured mouth, now slack.

The mention of the name, although garbled,
infuriated him.  Harold felt the burning
tension of anger form in his temples.  He had
taken so much time, had planned so carefully
for her and she was intent on ruining it all. 
He reached a finger out and stroked the side
of her neck where life still throbbed.  He
could change all that, he could take that
from her easily.  Just upstairs his black
case waited for him in the drawer beside the
fridge.  His fingertips tingled in
anticipation of the cool metal and  the
slight resistance that her flesh would offer.

Harold was interrupted from his thoughts as
his pager vibrated against his upper thigh. 
He removed it from his pocket with a
disgruntled sigh and checked its lighted
display.   The hospital had paged him. Harold
replaced the pager in his pocket.  He had
work to do at home.  The only reason he had
gone in before was to help satiate that 
meddling FBI agent, Mulder.  Harold paused,
what if it was about Agent Mulder again, what
if he hadn't left the hospital, what if he
was about to make good on his promise to show
up at his doorstep?

"Damn it!"  Harold cursed into the darkness
as he searched the floor for his small
flashlight.  He would have to call in, just
to be safe.  He nudged the body that lay in
front of him.  It remained still.  He would
switch over to twine and rebind her shortly. 
Dana would not be taken from him.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX


Mercy Memorial Hospital
Intensive Care Unit
1:55 p.m.


Nurse Miller quickly rose from the nurses'
station to join Dr. Voight as he stepped onto
the ward.

"I'm so sorry to disturb you once again, but
I'm not sure how to handle this.  Everything
is just a big mess."  She explained to him,
wringing her pale hands in front of her as
she stood beside him at the elevator doors.

"Why don't you just join me in my office,
Kathleen, I'm sure we'll be able to figure it
out."  Harold led her down the hallway, his
hand resting on her shoulder.  He motioned
her towards the dark leather chair in front
of his desk as they entered, closing the door
behind them.  "What's been going on?"  He
asked, his voice casual as he took a seat on
the edge of his desk.


Nurse Miller ran a hand through her tightly
curled gray hair.  "It's the pharmacy. 
They've been calling since noon and inquiring
about prescriptions that I have signed for
here at the ICU.  I haven't done any of that. 
They are saying that there has been an
excessive amount of chloral hydrate and other
sedative drugs ordered recently and they are
somehow blaming me for this!"   She ran a
trembling hand through her hair once again.

Harold cleared his throat from his position
on the desk, his arms crossed over his chest. 
"This just started recently then?"  

She lifted her face to him, her eyes glazed
with fear.  "Yes, just after lunch."  She
continued to search Dr. Voight's face,
waiting for some type of acceptable answer,
some sign of her reprieve.

Harold stood up and walked over to the small
sink to the right of his desk and grabbed a
black coffee cup from beside it, his back to
Nurse Miller as he fished quietly in his
pocket for what he had packed for her.  
"Kathleen, these accusations are absurd, I've
worked with you for years and you've always
been trustworthy and reliable, I can vouch
for that."  He slipped the contents of his
pocket into the mug under cover of his
position and added a plastic stir stick.  He
crossed to the black carafe on the small
wooden table beside the sink and filled the
mug.  "I would like you to take the rest of
the day off, I think that would be reasonable
considering the circumstances."  He ripped
the top off of an individual powdered
creamer and added it to the cup, stirring
with a small stick.  "I'll work on sorting
this out.  I'm sure it's just a
misunderstanding."  He approached the desk
and handed the cup to Nurse Miller.  "Cream,
right?"

She smiled as he handed her the coffee
although tears still clouded her pale green
eyes.  "Yes, that's how I always take it." 
She remarked, touched by the small gesture.

Harold patted her on the shoulder
reassuringly as she took her first
sips of coffee.  "It'll all work out, don't
you worry about that.  It'll all work out."

XXXXXXXXXXXXXX


Java Joy Coffee House
2:23 p.m.


Mulder walked into the coffee house, quickly
scanning over the small, colorful,  various
shaped tables and intentionally mismatched
chairs, looking for a familiar face.  He saw
her as he reached the back of the building,
sitting behind a worn cafe table tucked into
a shadowed corner.  Her brown hair was still
braided, as it had been earlier, but she wore
a soft pink tee-shirt now with a pair of
faded blue jeans.  

Mulder crossed quickly over to her.  "Nurse
Schnieder?"  

She waved him over to her table nervously. 
"It's just Angie, I'm off of work now," she
added awkwardly as he pulled a chair out
and sat next to her.  She had wrestled with
herself on whether or not to call him for the
last hour of her shift; so many emotions had
come into play during that time.  Overall,
her sense of sympathy had won out.  She
needed her hardened exterior for dealing with
difficult situations at work, and she had
dealt with many in the short time as a nurse
in the ICU.  However, she felt deeply for all
of her patients and their families.  The
image of Mulder pacing the hallways, waiting
for any kind of direction at all, had burned
itself into her mind.  He desperately needed
help to find his partner, and she may now
hold a piece of that puzzle.  "I don't know
if what I have to say to you will be of any
help at all."  She said, staring down into
her coffee cup, a yellow Fiesta Ware look a
like.

Mulder nodded at her understandingly.   The
rest of the coffee house had disappeared the
moment he had seen her, he desperately
wanted to hear what she had to say.  He was
hoping for a miracle.  He folded his hands
together and placed them on the antiqued
wooden table as he leaned in close to the
young woman.  Mulder spoke softly without
bothering to mask the urgency he felt. 
"Angie, my partner, Dana Scully, could be in
serious danger right now.  If what you said
to me on the phone is true, if you have some
information that could somehow relate to her
disappearance, then I need to know it."

Angie nodded back in agreement, staring down
at the heavily worn table as she responded  
She had begun to feel her eyes tear up and
she choose to avoid his face.  His large wet
eyes were not unlike those she had seen in
family members who had suddenly lost
someone on the ward, mirroring the pain and
emptiness that consumed them, with an urgency
that for most would never see resolution.  If
eyes were indeed mirrors to the soul, then
his was a soul that was haunted.  "There is
something going on in the ward with
sedatives, or at least there would seem to
be.  Kathleen, Nurse Miller, was very upset
by it all.  She explained the situation
briefly to me before she called Dr. Voight
back in to the hospital."

"Sedatives?"  Mulder prompted, his eyebrows
rising as he contemplated this.

Angie tilted her cup back and examined its
cooling contents more closely before setting
it back down.  "I don't completely understand
what has happened, just that Nurse Miller is
being accused of forging signatures on
prescriptions for Chloral Hydrate, apparently
on more than one occasion.  She swears that
she hasn't done it, and for the life of me, I
couldn't even begin to believe that she did,
but something is going on."

 "I'd like to get her phone number and
address, it's important that I speak to her
about this as soon as possible."  Mulder
quickly interjected.

Angie reached for the brown leather handbag
that rested at her feet.  "I hope that she's
feeling okay.  She left the hospital right
after talking to Dr. Voight, she looked just
terrible.  The strain of this must really be
catching up with her."  She said, searching
in her purse until she found a black pen and
a small tablet of paper.  She quickly
scribbled down the requested information.  "
I just hope that this can help you find your
partner."  She added.

"Angie, what you have told me here could be
the turning point in all of this."  Mulder's
eyes met hers as he told her this.

Angie pushed the paper towards him and
blinked at the strong emotions she felt in
him.  She rose, her purse in hand to leave,
but stopped briefly, setting her free hand on
his wrist.  She attempted to find the words
that would adequately express what she was
feeling but settled for a teary-eyed, "Find
her."

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX


Kathleen Miller Residence
3:02 p.m.

Mulder carefully dodged the small patches of
pink and white Impatiens that lined the
concrete walkway as he sprinted up to
Nurse Miller's small, pale, lime house.  He
slowed his pace slightly as he made his way
up the two small steps to her doorway, sweat
trickling down his forehead  in the
afternoon's intense heat.  He wiped it away
with the back of his hand, hoping the house
had air conditioning.  He knocked
open-handed, on the dark wooden door in front
of him, surprise and alarm overtaking him as
it swung open from the motion.  Mulder
swallowed hard and called out into the
opening the door had left.

"Nurse Miller, are you in there?  It's Agent
Mulder, from the FBI; we met at the hospital
earlier.  I need to talk with you." Mulder
felt for his gun as he listened to the
unnaturally long silence on the other side. 
"Nurse Miller?"  He questioned again and
forced  the door the rest of the way open.  
It hit the wall and bounced back slightly. 
Mulder drew his gun as he cautiously entered
the darkened room.  The drapes were pulled
shut, closing out all but an orangish glow
from the bright sunlight outside.  A small
black purse lay beside a cream colored sofa,
some of its contents spilled out onto the
floor: a pen, some keys, a crumpled coupon. 
Mulder stepped closer to the couch, further
bringing into view what had caught his eye. 
He exhaled slowly as his eyes confirmed his
original suspicion.  Mulder replaced his gun
in his holster and bent down over the body.

"Nurse Miller?" He shook her shoulders gently
before turning her off of her stomach and
onto her back, revealing a pool of vomit that
her face had rested on.  "Kathleen?"  He
shook her harder when she offered no
resistance, her eyes appeared like two glazed
slits on her face staring out into
nothingness, a look he had seen before. 
Mulder carefully pushed aside the loosened
collar of her soiled work uniform and placed
his hand on her neck.  Cool and still.

"Shit!"  Mulder removed his hand from her
throat and closed her eyes.  He pulled the
cell phone from his pocket and quickly dialed
before pressing it to his ear.  "This is
Special Agent Fox Mulder, badge number
JTT047101111 I've found a possible murder
victim at 2231 Vine Lane, I'm also going to
need some back up at apprehending a Dr.
Harold Voight."

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX


"Dana!"

Scully slowly roused at the sound of her name
being called.

"Dana, get up!"  the voice insisted.  Scully
fought to place the voice, but her mind was
so thick from... from what?  She couldn't
remember.  She groaned with the realization,
turning her face away from the distraction as
she did so.

"Dana , come on!  Your father will not be
happy if you make us late for church!"

Mom?  Dana opened her eyes and turned her
head back around so that she faced her
mother.   She stood over the bed in her navy
blue and plaid patterned dress and nylons,
prying white curlers from her dark hair. 
Although she couldn't quite understand why,
Scully felt overjoyed at the sight of her
mother standing over her bed.  She reached
out for her but quickly stopped as a sharp
pain spread throughout her head from the
movement.  

"I told you Mom, Dana's too lazy to get out
of bed!"  Melissa taunted from the doorway,
tying the yellow satiny ribbon on her
ruffled dress with the broad rainbow stripes. 
The one she had specifically told Dana never
to touch. 

"No, something's wrong."  Scully insisted,
carefully reaching out for her mother again,
this time cautious not to disturb her aching
head.

Melissa rolled her eyes and  left the
doorway.  Her mother shook her head
disapprovingly.  "Dana, the only thing wrong
is that there is no way that  is going to
cover up those huge, ugly scabs on your
knees," she pointed to Dana's peach colored
Sunday dress that hung ready for her over the
top of her dresser mirror, "and I'm almost
certain that you have ripped every pair of
tights that you own this week."  She turned
to leave the room, removing curlers as she
walked.  "Get up Dana."  

"Mom, wait!  I can't get up, I'm hurt!"

Her mom stopped and turned back to her,
holding onto the few curlers that she had
removed.  "Dana, I don't doubt that you are
sore from your latest escapades, but that
doesn't change anything.  Perhaps it's time
for you to start behaving like a young lady
and give up all of this craziness with
climbing trees and chasing around with your
brothers."  She scolded.

Scully felt tears of desperation sting her
eyes, " Don't leave mom, I need help."  She
cried, burying her face in the soft fabric of
her well worn comforter.

"Dana, I can't save you from what you
willingly subject yourself to over and over. 
Heed my advice and stop while you still have
something worth saving."  

Scully looked back up to her mother.  The
room and her bed had disappeared.  Her mother
no longer wore curlers and her plaid dress,
instead she stood in tan dress pants and a
cream colored turtleneck sweater, her dark
hair streaked with gray, and permanent worry
lines etched into her face.  "Mom?"  She
questioned, the sudden passage of time
sending her mind reeling once again as she
attempted to grasp what was going on.  A
strange noise had started, like howling wind
and  her mother's hair whipped about her face
as she stood over her, her arms crossed. 
Scully turned as the strange breeze blew
through her own hair, growing in intensity as
she sought its source. She pushed the hair
away from her face, fighting to see past it
as the wind tossed it about with unseen fury. 


She was in the field again, the large maple
tree looming just feet ahead of her, its huge
branches still even as the wind screamed
relentlessly through the tall grass.  She
turned to look back over her shoulder, her
mother was gone, an endless span of rippling
field sat  there instead.  

"You need to leave."

Scully turned back abruptly at the sound of
the small voice, amazed that it had carried
in the strong wind.  The young boy stood in
front of her as if he had been there all
along.  His dark hair hung in messy strands
about his pale face.  He was in his pajamas
again, just as he had been before. Scully
bent down closer to him.

"You shouldn't be out here."  Scully strained
to speak past the noise of the wind. She
looked around the field as dark storm clouds
rolled in ominously, so thick they seemed
only feet above the lone maple tree.  "I
think a storm is blowing in."  She explained
to the somber- faced child.

"It's happening again."  He asserted
expressionlessly.  "If you don't leave, you
will die."  

"What is happening?"  She demanded of the
boy.

He looked about as if his surroundings and
the impending storm were  somehow proof of
what he had said.  He stared up as the  dark
clouds  overtook the sky and the air took on
an unusual chill.  "You don't have much time
left."  He added, ignoring her questions
as he looked back into her face.  "You must
go now."

Scully felt a chill creep up her spine that
she somehow felt had nothing to do with the
sudden reduction in temperature.  "What
about you? You shouldn't be left here alone." 
She asked, turning her attention back to the
boy.

"This is my home", he added plainly, as if
unshaken by the powerful storm taking shape
above him.  "Please, go now."  He stretched
his small hands out towards Scully.  "Take my
hands, I'll help you."

Scully reached towards the boy, uncertain. 
She stopped just shy of his hands.  "Wait." 
she instructed, quickly undoing the clasp on
the crucifix that hung around her neck.  She
pressed the small cross and its chain into
his small hand and balled his fist around it
before taking his hands.  He looked up to
her, wide eyed.  "Hold on to this for me." 
She instructed.  The boy blinked back tears
as he stared into her face and tightened his
grasp on her.  

"Close your eyes, be ready, be strong."  He
coached.  Scully closed her eyes and the
storm sounds disappeared as slowly her
reasoning returned to her.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

End of Chapter 11.
Continued in Chapter 12.

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Semantics@writeme.com.