Midnight's Sorrow, Chapter 5
Disclaimer in Chapter 1



The Kitchen Kottage
Washington, D.C.
July 10th 
12:45 p.m.


"So, I take it you're feeling better,
Scully?"  Mulder asked with an unusual amount
of question in his voice.

Scully looked up from her spot at their small
table, oblivious to his tone. "Yes, actually
I am.  Although, I am certain I owe most of
the credit for that to the anti-diarrheal 
and Ibuprofen that I took earlier,"  Scully
replied while unfolding her napkin.  Mulder
sat silently, a strange look on his face as
he regarded her.  Scully followed his eyes
down to her dinner, a sirloin steak freshly
grilled and piping hot baked potato wrapped
in foil with steamed baby carrots, no butter.
She smiled self-consciously.  " I haven't
eaten well in a while, Mulder, I'm starving." 
Scully placed the napkin in her lap and began
to cut into her steak.

"Whatever happened to broth and toast, Dr.
Scully?"  Mulder asked her, picking up half
of his bacon, lettuce and tomato sandwich;
its mayonnaise and tomato juices dripping
down his fingers and onto his plate.

"Doesn't stand a ghost of a chance against
this " Scully held out a slice of her steak
that she had forked before popping it into
her mouth. "Mmmm." She rolled her eyes back
in feigned ecstasy as she chewed it.

Any witty comments that Mulder had meant to
make were quickly lost as he pushed back an
indecent proposal that rose swiftly in his
mind like an untethered balloon.  He watched
helplessly, waiting for her to finish the
dramatized chewing of her piece of steak.  

"Dis is sooo goodh. " She continued.

"Scully, didn't your mother teach you not to
speak with your mouth full?"  Mulder asked in
frustration.

"Oh, bud I'sh nod full.  Dhere's mush more
room in here."  She insisted, slicing another
piece of steak as she chewed.

Nice touch, Scully, he thought to himself. If
things continued like this he would surely
have a reaction that would not be appropriate
for a family restaurant.  Was she
intentionally trying to torture him?  That
would definitely not be good partner
etiquette.  With the types of thoughts that
he found creeping up on him from time to
time, he didn't exactly subscribe to that
practice either. Mulder sighed loudly and
dropped his oozing sandwich half back onto
his plate. He picked up his napkin and wiped
the opaque juice off of his hand before it
had the chance to travel to his shirt cuff. 

Scully  began to carefully peel back the foil
on her baked potato. "Mulder," Scully
started, her mouth thankfully empty
now.  "I have to agree with what you said
earlier, back in the office," she said,
slicing  into her potato.

"Scully?"  Mulder questioned.

Scully looked up from her dinner. "Yes?"

"Did you just cut a Y-incision into your
baked potato?" Mulder asked, bemused.

"Well, yes, actually I did." Scully replied
casually, continuing her potato preparations.
"You should have seen me in medical school,
Mulder, I was tying surgical knots into the
laces of my gym shoes.  The repetition really
makes it a force of habit."

Mulder smiled and nodded before the subject
changed  back. 

"This information Frohike has presented us
with will likely prove indistinguishable from
urban legend.  Mulder, people throughout
history have created fables to pass on their
views of morality.  Modern day fables still
exist, just sometimes in different forms,
such as stories passed along the Internet."

Mulder's  face grew more solemn.  "Scully,
this guy will kill again and it's going to
take a lot more than an allegory to lead us
to him. 
However, I can't just sit back and wait for a
substantial clue to fall upon us while he
takes victims: I need to do something about
this now."

"Mulder, what are you planning on doing?"

"I'm not certain yet, but there has to be
something that I am missing, something
pivotal that will turn this case around.  I
just need to keep looking, Scully."  


Scully looked up from her plate, her
expression sympathetic. "Mulder, I would also
like to see this case resolved before any one
else has to be hurt, but you and I both know
that is rarely the case, as frustrating as it
may be.  There may not be anything to do but
wait."  Scully's stomach gurgled, an annoying
symptom that hadn't been suppressed by the
medicine she had taken. She briefly
considered pushing her meal aside, but,damn,
she felt hungry.

"I can not accept that."  Mulder turned his
head away from the table, his eyes distant
and  his jaw set as he pulled  inside of
himself to think.

Scully reached out to him and  placed her own
small  hand over his, her fingers gently
brushing his in a gesture of reassurance. 
"Mulder, whatever it is you need to do to
find this guy, I am with you all the way. 
But there is something I need to know."  Her
voice was soft and warm.

"What's that?" he asked hoarsely.

"Are you planning on finishing that
sandwich?"

Mulder laughed softly, in surprise and 
turned to look her in the eyes.  "Scully," he
said playfully, "keep your hands off of my
sandwich."

.XXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

                       
 The Quality Market
 Pontiac, Illinois
July 11th
1:45 a.m.


Sarah  McKay pulled her rattling 87  Ford
Escort into the desolate parking lot at The
Quality Market, thankful that her worn out
car had successfully made yet another  trip.  
She pulled her keys from the ignition and
pocketed them, allowing her key chain version
of the game of Twister to dangle just above
the frayed edges of her jean shorts.   She
bent over in her seat, searching in the dim
light of the parking lot for her shopping
list.  She had placed it in the passenger
seat but a couple of sharp turns later it was
missing.   She grumbled to herself as she
sorted through sticky, discarded soft
drink cups, crumpled bags and cassette tapes
that littered the floor.  The last time she
had gone shopping without her list she had
ended up making macaroni and cheese without
the margarine for two weeks thanks to her
forgetfulness and lack of funds.   That was
not about to happen again.  Bad enough that
she needed to pull ten hour shifts five days
a week all summer at Betsy's Burgers  just to
get by until college restarted in the fall,
she was not about to make things any worse by
suffering through any more macaroni with
watery cheese sauce.  Reluctantly, she
slipped her hand underneath the seat,
searching blindly for the piece of paper.

Thwack!

Something suddenly hit the glass on the
driver's side door and she jumped, pulling
her hand back out from under the seat,
bumping some unidentified gooey mess in her
haste.  Her legs trembled as she let out a
yelp of surprise as she turned to meet the
face pressed up against her window. The face
broke into a fit of laughter as it
pulled away.  Anger flared within her and she
swung the driver's side door open as hard as
she could, hitting the owner of the laughing
face, causing him to holler loudly and hop
backwards.

"Jason, you asshole!"  She stepped out of the
car and slammed the door shut, her hands on
her hips as she approached him.  "You scared
me!"

"Yeah, that was the point."  He replied,
rubbing his right knee, most of the humor
gone from his voice.  "You didn't have to
break my knee for it though."

"You're standing just fine."  She commented
as she watched him continue to massage his
leg through his jeans .  "What are you
doing here at this hour of the morning
anyway?"     

Jason straightened up a little and ran a hand
through his short, bleached blond hair.  "The
guys and I decided to head down to Mexico
Jacks for some tacos and I saw this big,
smokey cloud heading towards the supermarket
and I thought, hey, that must be Sarah."  He
lifted his head up and shouted  over Sarah's
head at the small group of guys that waited
across the street.   "Hey, three minutes!" 
One of them waved back, dismissive.    

"Very funny.  And thanks for going out of
your way to scare the hell out of me."  She
pulled off her black scrunchie   that was
slipping out, and attempted to twist her
straight, mahogany  colored hair into a knot
at the back of her head.    

"Yeah, sure."  Jason replied absently, as he
watched her midriff top raise as she reached
behind her head to fix her hair.

Sarah watched his gaze lower to her chest. 
She gave him a swift kick to the left shin,
hoping that she'd leave a visible imprint
from her canvas mule to remind him to mind
his wandering eyes.

"Owwww!" He shrieked, hopping once again. 
"Why are you so damn mean?"  He reached down
and grabbed his injured shin.

"Cause, you were scoping me out!"  Sarah
tugged her grey and white swirled top back
down and crossed her arms over her chest.

"I think that you're pretty, so what?"  He
snapped defensively, forgetting about his
leg, and staring into her light brown eyes.

Sarah hugged herself, and lowered her head,
uncomfortable with where the conversation was
heading.  "Its just creepy, I mean, we've
known each other since we were in diapers."

Jason's voice softened.  "So, what's so wrong
with that?"

"Hey!  Let's go!"  One of the guys called,
his voice echoing from across the street.


Jason sighed. "Hey, I'd better get going or
they'll leave without me and lock me out of
the apartment again."  

Sarah laughed softly at this.  "Some friends
you've got there."
 
"Yeah, well at least they don't beat me up." 
He joked, rubbing his sore shin.  "You might
want to add some bandages to your shopping
list, I'm probably bleeding."  He gently
squeezed her arm as he walked past her to
leave.

"Big baby."  Sarah teased as he walked away. 
She turned to stare into her car window at
the mess.  Sarah  groaned, frustrated.  She
wouldn't be adding anything to her shopping
list if she couldn't find it.  

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX
  

Quality Market
1:57 a.m.


He pushed his cart slowly, stopping to
examine a reduced price bunch of overripe
bananas  in the flickering florescent light. 
He held the softened bunch up as if for
closer inspection, but stared just past it,
at the woman ahead of him who had finished 
carefully selecting a bag of yellow onions. 
She dropped the mesh bag, of her approval,
into her cart sending papery peel fragments
to spin their way to the lime green  linoleum
floor as she wheeled her squeaking cart
further down the aisle.  He slowly replaced
the browning fruit, following her with his
own cart just closely enough to track her,
but keeping enough distance that he would not
arouse her suspicions.  He checked his watch,
read the ingredients on a box of stone ground
wheat crackers, only looking up occasionally. 
She moved to the dairy section, placed a
gallon of skim milk into her cart and moved
on to the yogurt.  He put the box of crackers
into his cart, for show, and picked up a
brightly marked package of animal crackers,
his interest on her.  She bent over the
refrigerator case, her long, straight blond
hair falling over her left shoulder as she
chose her yogurt.  Most likely dyed, he
noted, but attractive on her just the
same.  Her aqua colored dress suit clung to
her small frame, showcasing her hourglass
figure.  She outstretched a slender, olive
toned hand, making her selection.  He held
back, lingering over boxes of crackers,
contemplating.  She turned his way, her green
eyes bright as is if in recognition, a smile
brightening her face.  He looked around
quickly, just as a tall man with thick brown
hair that curled at the nape of his neck
brushed past him.  He refocused on his
cracker box, stealing glances as the man
approached the blond lady he had been
watching.  The man kept one hand in the
pocket of his grey suit pants, the other
triumphantly holding out a home pregnancy
test kit.  The lady blushed but her smile
held as the man approached.  They embraced at
their meeting and he turned his attention
away from them, disappointed.  In search now
of a new prospect.  

Much of the late night and early morning
hours he had been out had been filled with
disappointment, but he would continue to wait
patiently.  Without patience he was certain
to make a mistake he couldn't afford.  The
right woman would come along, he believed
that,  he  just needed to be observant enough
to spot her. 

He pushed the cart past the hopeful couple,
ignoring their excited chatter.  He stared
down the aisles as he passed them,
recognizing the few other people he had
spotted in the store thus far.  He hadn't
been in there for long and he didn't plan on
staying much longer.  If things didn't soon
turn for him here, he would be on to the next
place.  A scrawny teenaged boy with just a
hint of facial hair, pushed a mop across the
floor underneath the condiment shelf, sending
a strange scent of antiseptic cleaner and
garlic dills throughout the small store.  He
continued past that aisle, clicking his ring
against the handle of the shopping cart as he
searched.  He added a box of Bran Crackles to
his cart as passed the cereal. 

The crying baby could be heard throughout the
store but the high pitched whining and
shrieking of the red faced child was almost
ear piercing as he approached the health and
beauty aisle.  The child kicked and arched
against his mother's hold, thick yellow snot
oozing from his nose as she attempted to read
the instructions on the side of a package of
children's cold medicine, her eyes heavy
and dark rimmed.  

He turned into the pasta aisle, pretending to
scan the spaghetti noodles.  He grabbed a
small box, his stomach fluttering.  He had
found her.  She had to be it, he felt it deep
inside of him.  He did his best to control
his breathing, to act disinterested as he
stole another look at her.  Brownish red hair
that was  tied back behind her head, but he
was certain it was long, and hazel eyes with
little flecks of green and gold.  Her cutoffs
flaunted her long slender legs, and a tight,
stretchy top clung to her chest and showed
off a silver navel ring.  He watched her
carefully choose several boxes of discount
macaroni and cheese as she consulted  a ratty
piece of paper grasped in her left hand.  He
turned away, satisfied with his decision and
left to check out.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX


Sarah hurried to finish the rest of her
shopping quickly.  She was beginning to feel
exhausted and the noise of a baby crying
somewhere in the store coupled with her
fatigue was causing her head to throb.  She
checked her crumpled list again, she had
picked up almost everything on it but she
still struggled to make out an item she had
written down that was now mostly covered with
a dark yellow smudge of unknown origin.  Not
surprising considering
she had found it deep underneath her car
seat.  Jason had teased that she would likely
disrupt the growth of a new life form if she
cleaned her car out now.  No fear of that,
she wasn't sticking her hand under those
seats again anytime soon.  She strained to
decipher it again.  Moose steaks?  Heck, she
couldn't afford a mouse steak on her budget.
Match sticks?  Well, that made more sense but
she had no use for matches.  Damn it, what
was that?  She pushed her cart aimlessly
through the market as she tried to recall 
her last item.  Geesz, this was the last time
she would write her shopping list three days
in advance.   She stopped at a sales display
for macaroni and cheese, checking to see that
she was getting the best price.  Macaroni... 
A light flickered in her head.  Margarine
sticks!  Oh  good grief, she had almost gone
and done it again.  She felt the red rise in
her cheeks as she turned back around to head
for the dairy aisle.   

Sarah picked up a box of  generic margarine
and headed promptly for the checkout.  She
would drive home, unpack the perishables,
make herself a cup instant chicken soup and
go straight to bed to drink it.  Tomorrow
would be her's.  No work, no college to worry
about, just her day alone.  Sarah felt her
shoulders relax as sleepiness crept  its way
into her body, making her feel warm and
pliable.  She waited patiently in line behind
the woman with her crying baby, toying with
ways she could spend her free time.  

Sarah spread the contents of her cart across
the conveyer belt and waited as the cashier
totaled and bagged her purchases.  She paid
her grocery bill, significantly lightening
the pocket where she had carried the cash
from her paycheck, and grabbed her bag.  

Sarah reached for the Twister game that
dangled from her pocket as she stepped
through the automatic doors, balancing her
grocery bag on her left hip.  She drew the
keys from her pocket, focused in on her
Escort across the mostly empty lot, a maroon
colored van now sat to the right of it. 
Crickets chirped somewhere in the distance, a
silver truck headed down the street as an
older man with mostly grey hair placed  his
cart in the outdoor cart return .  

The hinges groaned  loudly as Sarah swung
open  the passenger door and withdrew her key
one handed.  She placed her bag on the 
seat, hoping it would not suffer the same
fate as her shopping list and closed the
door.  Sarah rounded her car to the driver's
side, her keys in hand.  The older gentleman
headed towards the van beside the car, he
nodded politely at her as he approached, his
right hand shoved inside of his pants pocket. 
Sarah smiled weakly back at him and turned to
open her door.  He continued to approach
still digging in his pocket as Sarah fumbled
with her keys.  He smelled strange,
antiseptic, she noted.  Sarah inserted her
key and turned.  He bumped into her as he
approached the side of his van.

"Sorry...I'm sorry."  He mumbled to her, his
body blocking her from opening the door. 
"I'll just be a moment."  

Sarah sighed impatiently as she waited.  He
slid open his van door and turned, bumping
into her again.  

"I'm so sorry."  He apologized, his body
pinning hers against her car as he fumbled
about.  "Sorry..."

Sarah felt a sharp jab in her left thigh and
the muscles in it grew hot and tense.. 
"Ouch!"  She cried out and looked up at him,
confused.

"Sorry..."  He continued without further
explanation and backed away from her
slightly, his right hand behind him.

The parking lot lights blurred before Sarah's
eyes.  She leaned up against her car, her
legs suddenly felt very weak.

"Do you need some help?"  She heard his voice
ask her. He sound distant, the words canned
somehow.  Sarah turned her head in search of
help.  The lights streaked across the sky
with her movement, as if she were traveling
very fast, like on a carnival ride, she
thought.  Sarah felt herself sliding down and
felt him picking her back up and putting her
some place.  Some place dark.  This isn't
happening she thought to herself, fighting to
keep her mind from letting go,  this just
can't be happening.

XXXXXXXXXXX


July 11th
3:00 a.m.


She was moving.  Not on her own, however. 
All of her muscles held stubborn as stone,
but in some type of a vehicle.  A van came to
mind, burgundy with black trim, but the image
seemed distant like a dream. She drifted in
and out struggling to hold her thoughts,
trying not to surrender to the invisible
chasm that threatened to swallow her mind.  A
strong sense of urgency had roused her each
time she had drifted away but she knew she
would need much more than that to save her.
She needed to take action; although she
strained to completely  remember why. 

She willed herself to think past the thick
fog that clouded her mind.  Time was passing
quickly.  She lay still, feeling the heavy
vibrations traveling through the vehicle's
floor and into her numb, uncooperative body. 
Her mouth was free from restraint, no tape or
gag.  She realized screaming was a
possibility, but not from here. She would be
better off if the driver didn't realize she
had clung to some lucidity. Darkness
surrounded her.  She couldn't see a
possible way out.  Not that she felt certain
her body would allow for that if she could.  

Her erratic thinking became further
interrupted as the ride became rougher. She
was tossed from side to side, her barely
responsive body bouncing along the cool,
metal floor.  She wondered why the carpet had
been removed but quickly pushed the thought
aside; the possibilities that sprang to mind
were too disturbing.  The bouncing seemed to
turn suddenly into violent slamming, throwing
her about like a rag doll in a wheelbarrow.  
The van was no longer on the road.  She
fought with limbs of putty to brace herself,
to keep from hitting the sides of the
vehicle.  Time was almost up.  Her mind raced
frantically searching for anything at all
that might offer her hope of escape.  

The van slowed and the engine turned silent. 
She strained to listen for the sound of the
door opening, poising herself.  The sounds of
her ragged, panicked breaths filling  the
silence that followed.  Her stomach began to
turn sour, churning as she waited. She took
deep, raspy breaths attempting to calm
herself. Jason's sweet, playful face came to
mind.  She willed herself back to the parking
lot with him in vain.  Her sobs grew louder
at the sound of the driver's door opening. 
She felt the adrenaline surge through her
body, and she worked to use it to its full
potential, pushing and struggling to right
herself but only managing to squirm further
into the van.   The door to the back rolled
opened suddenly, allowing in a sliver of
silvery moonlight.  She tried to look in the
dim light to see where she was, where the
driver might be,  but her head remained heavy
and leaden.  She kicked ineffectively, aware
of her impending attack, crying and
struggling against her own body.  She
screamed, feeling the sudden firm grasp on
her ankles, noting how easily her earnest
attempts to kick free were instantly stilled
with one tight grip.  Her body scrapped 
against the bare metal as she was pulled into
the unknown, her unrelenting screams
shattering the stillness of the night that
awaited. Her cry sounded foreign and 
animalistic,  unlike any sound that had ever
escaped her. Her lungs burned and her chest
felt as though its collapse was imminent, but
she continued screaming, her only defense the
moment offered. She screamed past the coppery
taste that rose in her raw throat, past the
banging her head took as she was dragged by
the feet along the dew laden field, past the
heavy sensation that burned in her gut.  Just
screaming, intent on continuing until she
could no longer draw a breath to do so.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXX

She woke suddenly, her heart pounding. 
Listening.  Someone was crying, sobbing.  She
was almost certain she had heard screaming as
well.  Her hands shook as she pushed back her
blankets, uncertain of her next move.  She
listened again to be certain to the soft,
uneven cries.  Her throat ached, and her
chest trembled, shaking in time with the
crying.  Jolted, she placed a hand to her
cheek and wiped at the warm liquid that
streaked her face, shocked to learn
that she had cried herself awake.  Scully
shivered, the dream coming back to her all at
once.  Her throat tightened again, and she
fought back the strong urge to scream, a
reaction she credited to the intense
unresolved emotion the dream had left her
with.  It had all felt so real: the van, the
inability to move, and then being dragged
through the field.  She shivered again and
hugged the blankets back up around her unable
to shake the unsettling feeling she had been
left with. She had a strong urge to take
action to do something about it, but it was
just a dream.  There was nothing to be done. 
Scully looked over at the alarm clock, toying
with the idea of calling Mulder.  He would
understand, Mulder was like that.  He
wouldn't hold it against her even if it was
completely ridiculous; he had a gift for
seeing past that kind of thing right into the
heart of the matter.  

Thump, thump, thump.

Scully grabbed her satin robe from the chair
beside her bed and tied it on. Three-thirty
a.m., a strange time for someone to be
knocking at her door.  Unless, of course,
that someone was Mulder.  Scully quickly
padded through the dark of her apartment to
the door.  She stood on tip toe to look
through the peephole and found herself
disappointed that it wasn't Mulder's face
that peered back at her.

"Mrs. Johnston?"  She questioned as she
unlocked and opened the door for her elderly
neighbor.  

"Dana, honey, are you okay?  I thought I
heard screaming."  Mrs. Johnston stood
wrapped in her blue chenille bathrobe, her
short silver hair in disarray.  Her face a
mix of concern and sleepiness.

"Yes, I'm fine."  Scully sighed and lowered
her head in realization. "I had a bad dream,
I'm sorry to wake you." 

"Do you want to talk about it sweetie? 
Sometimes that makes you feel a little
better."

Scully smiled warmly at her neighbor's kind
offer.  "No, thank you.  I'm fine, really.  I
think I'll just go back to sleep."

Mrs. Johnston nodded and tightened the tie on
her robe.  "You rest well now, Dana."  She
added as she made her way back down the
hallway.

Scully closed and locked the door behind her
before returning to her bedroom.  She still
felt unsettled, not as much so as when she
had first awoke, but the darkness of her room
had brought back vivid memories of her dream.
She hadn't felt an urge to sleep with the
light on since her childhood when she had
stayed up way too late listening to her
brother Bill tell ghost stories; but she was
half tempted to do so now.   Deep inside she
still wanted to call Mulder, still sought the
comfort that hearing his rough voice would
bring.  But, it was now past three- thirty
a.m. and it was bad enough that she had
disturbed her neighbor by screaming in her
sleep.  Her bad dream had taken enough
casualties for the night, she would allow
Mulder his sleep. She did her best to ignore
her raw throat and the heavy feeling in her
stomach, instead focusing on getting some
rest. Scully turned on to her side pulling
the blankets up tight to her face and trying
to drown out the memories of the nightmare
with thoughts of the new day that was already
starting.  Daylight was only hours away now.

XXXXXXXXXX

End of Chapter 5
Continued in Chapter 6


Feedback is always welcomed.  Feel free to
write me at Semanitcs@writeme.com


Thanks again to everyone who has helped this
story to continue: 
Thanks to Brandi, Foxcat, and Memento1 for
their time and work as Betas.  Thanks also to
my family to supporting me throughout this.
You are my true inspirations.