From: Gina Cutlip Date: Sun, 12 Sep 1999 02:53:48 -0700 (PDT) Subject: story submission - Apartment Source: direct title - Apartment author - Gina Cutlip e-mail - catty9_13@yahoo.com archive - Anywhere as long as my name and e-mail are attached. rating - PG-13 for violence category - SRV spoilers - none keywords - Mulder/Scully romance summary - What seemed to be a harmless evening turned out to be a disaster, but new information is learned. ONE "Hey." That was about the sixteenth time this guy had said that to me. He is a little bit taller than I am with a goatee and a visor on, even though it is nighttime. He is sitting next to me, eating French fries out of a Burger King bag, waiting for the pack of other girls to get ready. He has keys with him, so I'll take that as the fact he owns a car. A few girls rush in the front door and back to a bedroom in the cluttered apartment. I am just sitting here, waiting for all of them to leave. Well, it was my fault to offer to stay at the apartment after all. Mine is being repainted so I did need somewhere to go. But this is not what I expected when my friend, Clairiece, said that she was going out of town and her teenage daughter was going to stay one night and leave the day after she did. "That looks good," the kid said. I think I heard someone call him Shane, but I'm not sure. That's when I realized that a microwave macaroni and cheese dinner was still sitting in front of me. I had lost all interest in it as soon as the people began to arrive. Clairiece said to make myself at home. She was going to be gone for about eight or nine days and my apartment should be done in ten, so I'm hoping a freak storm keeps them both, mother and daughter, out for two weeks. "Well," I reply frankly, "help yourself." He looks at me, astounded, and points to himself and the black plastic dish of fat with enthusiasm and a look of question. I smile and nod with sarcasm as he takes the fork from me and slide the food in front of him. I sigh and turn away, hoping to see something else more interesting than a teenage boy gobbling up the remains of a cold TV dinner. I do get a glimpse of something. It's not interesting at all though. Clairiece's friends and herself are sitting on her bed; backs turned to me so I can't really tell what they are doing. I sigh again, bored and anxious for them all to get out, and I get up. The boy looks up at me and holds out now the empty dish. "Do I look like a mother to you?" I ask angrily. He shrugs and reluctantly I take the offending plastic from him. As I walk the short distance from the table to the kitchen sink, I spot the bathroom. Dumping everything in my hands into the sink, I rush to the guestroom with all of my things and pick up my pajamas. All I really need right now is a good, long, hot shower. By the time I get out they should be gone. TWO I step out of my skirt and pull the shirt over my head. It feels so damn good to get out of the same clothing I had been wearing for the past day and a half, or so it seemed like. After the water is on and to just the right temperature, which would be scalding hot for those stressful days, I step in and gasp at how hot it really is. Nothing like my shower at all, this is insane. I really should get my heating and plumbing checked; it's been a while. As I wash myself with my little nylon puff, I try to think why I am here in the first place. I know it's because of Clairiece being out of town, but I could have gotten a room at a hotel or...no, I wouldn't bother Mulder about these kinds of things. He doesn't even have a bed anyway. I finish with the soap so I rinse and start to attack my hair. It's been a matted mess all day, not that anyone noticed, but it sure did bug the hell out of me. Anyway, what was I thinking about? Oh yeah, I'm here because I'm cheap and it's closer to work. That's not right, I've been really sarcastic these days. I guess I'm here to watch Clairiece's reckless daughter and her billions of friends for this one night until they all leave. I hate being the responsible one sometimes. I finish with my hair but I don't feel clean. Idly, my thoughts return to Mulder. I begin to wash with the puff again as I let my mind wander. Maybe I can call him up for a night or two. There is a huge TV in the living room with a nice round leather couch that I can't wait to lie in. Maybe I'll ask him to bring a movie or something, who knows, maybe it will be our night after all. That thought makes me stop what I'm doing and I start to float back to earth. Ok, that's your partner, shut up woman. Just scrub. The water is running a little bit colder now so I'll take that as the hint that I've been in here too long. I turn the water the hottest that it can go to give me one last shot of heat before I have to get out of the pleasantly warm and foggy shower stall. Sliding the glass door back I scan the bathroom for a towel or a closet with success. There is only one towel though. That means I'll have to do a little laundry. After I put my pajamas on, which consists of flannel pants and a long sleeved wool shirt, I walk out into what appears to be an abandoned apartment. The place really is nice now that I get to really look at it without people running about in it to get in my way. Slowly I look at each picture on the mantel above the fireplace and along the shelves by the bookcases. There are seven rooms in this apartment; it really is quite roomy. There is the living room with a fireplace, big screen TV and the infamous couch I have been obsessing about and a few bookcases. One shelf even has a 6 disc CD player with AM/FM radio, karaoke, and tape decks. There is also a kitchen that doubles for a dining room, three bedrooms and a full bathroom. It really does put my apartment to shame. I pass a clock in the dining room on my way to the kitchen and see that it is only seven in the evening and I am already in my pajamas. My life is a strange thing. It is a Friday and the day was beautiful. It was a little on the chilly side, though. But who am I to complain, it is late January after all. I stop at the kitchen table and I spot my cell phone. I haven't checked my messages in a while so I pick up the phone and dial my voice mail. "You have TWO new messages," the machine says. Wow, I must be miss popularity now. I press a button and the messages start to play. I already have an idea of who they are from, but still... "Dana honey, it's mom. I heard about your apartment and I just thought you might want to put up a nice border around the top of your bedroom. I saw this perfect pattern and I couldn't remember the color of your bedspread. Call me dear, you know how I love to shop!" What a mom, always trying to improve my life. Ok, message number two, come on down. "Hey, Scully, it's me. I know you hate for me to do things for you, but it's supposed to snow on Sunday night and I wanted to make sure I got this address right on where you're staying in case you might need a ride Monday. And just some advice, if you get the chance, tip those guys who are painting your apartment really well before hand. Trust me, I made that mistake before with this guy who re-did my bathroom. Whoa...speaking of which...But you know, call me if you get bored over there." How nice. Really, that is all I can think after a call like that from him. Well, I am bored and I have this great apartment at my expense. Ok, I'll do it. I'll call him. First a little change in attire, but then I'll call. THREE I emerge from the guest room once again in some comfortable black cotton pants and a blue cardigan feeling a bit more covered then I did in those pajamas. I pick up the phone again and hit the only speed dial that I ever use, Mulder's. He picks up on the second ring. After a short greeting, I decide to cut to the chase. "Hey, listen, Mulder, I was just wondering if you wanted to come up tonight, because I sure could use the company." "Alright, but I always thought weekends were 'Scully time.' " "Think what you want, but 'Scully time' is boring me to tears." "Ok, what do ya want? Or is this some way to con me into buying you food and a movie?" "You read my mind." "So, what? Chinese and a chick flick?" he says sarcastically. "Yeah." I say with a laugh of my own. "See you in a bit, Scully," his voice gives away the fact that he is smiling, I can tell. "Ok, later." I hang up the phone and I really feel good about myself. I have nothing to do so I make plans. I'm not usually the social type, but tonight I don't want to be alone in this different apartment. I place the phone back into its case and I go sit on the inviting couch to figure out how to work the TV and VCR. It should take a while for Mulder to get here. About forty minutes later there is a buzz at the door and I let Mulder in with a smile that seems to lighten his face and I reach out to take the food from him. I'm starving and it hadn't really hit me until he came into the apartment. "What, no hello?" he asks. "Sorry, I didn't realize how hungry I am, but if you insist, hello, Mulder," I reply. We sit at the table and I open the carton that's closest to me. It has my favorite, Kung Pao chicken. Dinner was great, but what else can you possibly expect from a Chinese take out? It's about time I ask about Mulder's movie selection, after all, the question has been burning me since he got here. "So, Mulder, what's you bring? A personal favorite?" I have to laugh at my own remark. "No, but I do hear you like this one..." his voice trails off as I snatch the tape from him. "What is it? The autopsy tapes from..." now it's my turn to fade my voice. Then with my little cry of joy he turns to face me. "Did you just know to get this or what?" "What do you mean? Did I ask the desk? No, I don't think they would have a recommendation for people like us," he speculates aloud. "Well, whatever the reason, you made a good choice," I answer. He offers popcorn that he bought at the video place and goes into the kitchen to make it while I set the VCR to play the movie that I made Mulder listen about for weeks as the office. I had always nagged aloud about going to see this while it was in theatres at work and he had gotten kind of annoyed with my complaints when it left the big screen. Still, I haven't even gotten a chance to rent it yet, but I don't think I have mentioned a word about it since the fall. He comes back in and sets a bowl of steamy white popcorn on the coffee table. I catch a whiff of the buttery smell. "You're spoiling me," I say. "I was thinking the same of you to me," he replies with a smile. We settle on the rounded couch to watch What Dreams May Come on this awesome big screen TV. About half way through the movie I get sleepy but I really want to see the whole thing. Mulder notices and asks if I want to scoot closer. I do, with great appreciation and rest my head on his shoulder. He really makes a great pillow. It hasn't dawned on me until now just how natural all of this feels. There is no need for worry though; nothing could possibly progress that much because of one night and a movie. I feel my head slipping lower throughout the movie and it isn't long before my head is completely in his lap. I don't take much notice of it and let myself doze off. The remote control to the VCR is right next to us so he doesn't have to wake me when he has to turn it off. No worry, I say to myself again, and sleep takes over. The next time I am aware of the world around me, it is a wonderful sight indeed. The TV is off, as is the VCR. The stereo to my left on the elaborate bookcase is playing something; it is soft so I can't tell exactly. I am curled up on my side with my head in Mulder's lap; my arms tucked into my chest. Obviously he is not asleep, for his hand is gently stroking my neck and up to my head and back again. I do not want him aware of my wakefulness so I let his wandering hands lull me back into a tranquil sleep. FOUR My eyes flutter against the sudden noise. Someone is above me, but I cannot see anything. The room is so dark. Suddenly something cold and sharp strikes me across the face and I am forced off of the couch. What is going on? Just a few hours ago I was sleeping peacefully in Mulder's embrace, only to be awakened in such a violent manner? This is so wrong. I cannot think straight and I don't know why. Either because I have just been whacked upside the head or because of my sleepy state of mind. Maybe it is both. Either way, I find myself huddling between the couch and the coffee table as someone continues to beat me over the head and shoulders with a slab of steel. Whatever their intention, if it was to knock me out cold, then they will succeed, if not that then they surely will kill me. I know that I should do something in my defense, but it is too late by time I realize the fact. Then as the stranger raises their arms to swing the object down on myself again in a last fatal strike, I find myself kneeling in prayer. Not only for myself, but also for Mulder, for he suddenly passes my mind and I feel terrified. Terrified that he is being treated the same way. Or worse, he could be dead already. No matter what his condition, I lose all conscious thought as the weapon descends upon me. The last thing I can think is the thought that I don't want this thought to be my last. I awaken by someone shaking me and calling my name softly. I recognize his voice and I am utterly relieved. "Scully, Scully, can you hear me?" "Yes, stop...please, you're hurting my shoulder," I groan as I sit up. "Where the hell are we?" I can barely make out his face as he searches around behind me and then behind himself. "I think we're in a...a basement. Probably the one in the apartment building," he answers hoarsely. I reach out to him and wrap my sore arms around his neck. He begins to protest about the pain but when I start to cry he gets the picture. I scoot closer to him until I am curled into his chest; my tear stained face pressed into his shoulder as I continue to cry. His arms come around me as far as they can bear and he rests them against my back. I don't know why I am crying. Is it out of joy to be alive or because I am so afraid of what might happen to us later is our captor decides to come back? I simply cannot tell. I am terrified to the point of shaking and thinking about what happened just makes my entire body tremble with pain even more. We don't speak; there is no need to right now. Both of us are worn out and all we can do at the moment is sleep. So, for the second time that day I do fall asleep, but this time it is for all of the wrong reasons. FIVE My head is terribly sore from both the constant crying and the thinking. I have been awake for about an hour now, trying to think about why this is all happening. So far, I have come up with nothing to explain this torture. To think, we investigate these things but now that it is happening to us we haven't a clue as to why. We have talked a little after our sleep, restless as it was. He says that only his arms hurt, as if he had been dragged a distance. And wouldn't be surprised if he had been carried, he is a big man and no one could simply carry him down here, where ever we are. My head is pounding, my arms feel as if some one had taken a meat tenderizer to them, and my stomach is knotting up every time I think about that stranger and whatever he had with him. How he swung it down on me with no care for what he was hitting at all. Ironically, only one cliché comes to mind at a time like this, 'the injustice of it all' would sum things up very nicely. Mulder is moving now, I know he wants to find a way out. I want him to stay and I tell him over and over again every time he goes to another part of this cold, dark room. Then something dawns on me for the first time since I've been down here. I am thirsty, God, how I am thirsty. I crawl to my own accord; over to the side of the area, as I know that is where any water would collect if there was any at all. I find a crate. On it is a bag. "Mulder!" I cry out, which takes most of my energy to do. He stands up and walks over to me and resumes a sitting position; he must be tired, too. In the bag is a cold bottle. I give it to him and he opens it. "It's new, the seal hasn't been broken yet," he states. "It's fresh water. Is there any more in that bag?" I open it without hesitation. Indeed, there is more in the bag. I bring it out and announce my findings as I do so. "Yes, there is a lot in here. Three more bottles, packages of something, I think they're crackers, there are four packs of them. And...I think these are apples." I pull out each item and hand them over to Mulder, who, in turn, studies each closely. I keep one of the bottles of water, open it, and drank gratefully. "Who ever did this, Scully, they obviously want to keep us alive for something. Why else would they feed us?" he asked. I wiped my mouth and recapped my bottle. "I don't know. Sick bastards, that's who they are. What did we do to..." Mulder cut me off with his hand over my mouth. I looked at him and by the faint light I could see him pointing upwards. Indeed there was a noise that my voice would surely have covered. We listen closely, fascinated by what it could possibly be. The noise was footsteps, as I had guessed. They moved to the far right of us, against the wall in fact. Then light came blaring down on us as a trap door in the basement ceiling opened. We had been so occupied with sleeping and finding the crate that finding an escape had left our thoughts. I silently begged Mulder for forgiveness, as it was our fault that we didn't try to find a way out earlier. He wanted to go, but it was me that made him stay put. It was my fault, me and my stupid fears. Now my horror would be displayed for both of us as this person came down a flight of rickety steps. He came to the concrete floor and his steps echoed across the partially empty, vast basement. There were walls and corners to hide within, poles and boxes to conceal our presence, but we did not move. We knew better than that, this person put us here and there was no use in hiding, it would only increase our anxiety and fear with the new thought of being found. Hiding only gave one the false illusion of safety only to be horribly disappointed when found, plus the seething fear of being sought out in doing so. I turned quickly to Mulder, my eyes pleading for him to do something. Then I felt awfully ashamed to put such a burden upon him. We were both capable of doing something, but we are also both injured in the same ways. Now I put my feminine fears in front of myself and rely on his ego to pull through? How dare I do such a thing to him? So I turn away as quickly as I faced him with new tears in my eyes. No, I will not fully depend on him now, he need me as much as I need him. The stranger comes into full view by the musty light of the door through the dank basement. Mulder stands. I pull back behind the crate; I have no idea what he is doing. The man, as we now can see walks up to Mulder and looks him in the eye. "Pitiful man," he says in a hateful tone, no sympathy what so ever. I can't see Mulder's face, but I know there is no expression on it. "What do you think you are doing? You should be on the ground, like your girlfriend there," he points to me. Mulder doesn't say a word. Then the man walks around Mulder and laughs. He shakes his head and begins to walk away, making the mistake to turn him back to my partner on his way out. Mulder swings his are out and strikes him once in the stomach. The man doubles over and another man comes out from the trap door. This new man is huge, a good four inches taller than Mulder. He comes up to Mulder and holds him back a bit before cracking him upside the head with the back of his hand. He falls to the ground with a thump and doesn't say anything. The two men walk back to the steps. Before the first man goes up, however, he throws something at me. I don't want to touch it though. They leave, but do not shut the door completely. Light still shines in, a bit dimmer now. I crawl back to Mulder's side and shake him gently, not wanting to disrupt anything if it is broken. "Mulder? Please, do something, I need to know if you are all right...please..." I fall helplessly on his back, but no tears come. I keep the mantra going in my mind. Please say something, Mulder, talk to me. SIX I wake up very sore. Mulder has moved, I now rest against him with his arm around me. Comfort is all I need and he sure knows how to give it. I stir more and finally sit up. "Wakie, wakey," I say with more cheerfulness than I thought I could even manage. He looks at me; the basement has lit up considerably. I look over to where the object landed that the men threw at me the night before. Now I realize it is a cell phone. Stupid me. I crawl over to it and pick it up. It is charged and working, thank heaven. I dial 911 immediately and when the operator answers, I know that cell phones cannot be traced and I haven't the slightest clue as to where we are. The woman talks to me and I tell her all I know about our situation. Then I spot a window. I see a road sign and my spirits soar incredibly high. As Mulder had predicted, we were in the basement of the apartment building in which I was going to stay that week or two. I tell the operator and she tells me that we need to stay calm and a rescue unit would be there soon. After I set the phone down and tell Mulder of our good fortune, he asks me a compelling question. "Why did they leave us a phone and give us food if they obviously wanted to hurt us?" I did not want to think about it, but the question was certainly there. "Honestly, I do not know," is my answer. "But, I'd rather not talk about it now. They will be here soon. We can get help. This all will pass, we shouldn't worry." He nods and gets up. I wonder where he is going but settle on the thought that I can call him back if he does anything I don't like. I've got him trained. 911 officers pick us up in a matter of 15 minutes and we are rushed to the hospital. I don't know why, though. We don't have anything bad enough to require surgery or stitches for that matter. But I decide not to argue and enjoy the light of day and the ride to the hospital. We are emitted separately and put into rooms on two separate floors in the hospital. That probably pissed Mulder off, but that's how it usually is anyway. I am propped up against the headboard of my bed by pillows and things, watching the sky outside. You know, two days in a dark basement will really make you appreciate the sun. A nurse walks in and distracts me from my revere. "The man you came in with, Fox Mulder, asks permission to visit, Miss Scully. Would you mind me escorting him up?" the nurse asks me. I nod my consent and go back to my gazing out the window. About ten minutes I can hear his voice thanking the nurse as he walks in my room. His pajamas are blue and look quite good on him for a change. I make a note to tell him that later. He sits in the chair next to my bed and looks at me with a smile. He begins to laugh lightly and I really look at him this time, trying to understand this sudden outburst. "All right, what did they give you this time? Morphine?" I ask sarcastically with a smile of my own. "No, I think so, anyway," he says. "It's very nice to see you in the full light again." He looks at me thoughtfully before adding, "I almost forgot how beautiful you were amidst all that darkness, you know." I feel my face involuntarily blush a bit and I drop my gaze with him. "Are you done with me now?" I ask quickly. "Because I won't be flattered under the influence of a narcotic." "You should be ashamed, Scully. I didn't take anything yet. Anyway, I wanted to let you know, next time you call me over, let me know if I'm going to be beaten and starved first, ok?" he says with another laugh. "Shut up!" I say with a broadening smile. "You know I had nothing to do with this." "Sure, that's what they all say." Then he gets up and turns back to me. "Well, I should get going. I think I can her the lunch cart coming." "Yeah," I say and roll my eyes, "the Jell-O express is right on schedule." He smiles and waddles out the door, looking every which way to get his bearings back and to find his room again. The lunch cart stops in my room and as the woman gives me my tray, I ask that my nurse would come back. The nurse walks in a while later. "Yes, Dana? You called me?" "I did. I wanted to know if Mulder was given any drugs since his arrival here," I ask. "No, nothing but a little aspirin and alcohol on his cuts. Why do you ask?" She wondered. "Just asking, nothing big, really. Thank you." She leaves the room and I am left in a world of my own thinking. So, now I'm beautiful. What a thought. END I want feedback - flame or praise - you know I give it so give some to me! catty9_13@yahoo.com