Author's Note: This story is set some time in early Season Eight. In this story you will not find Scully and Doggett making hot monkey love, because I try to keep them in character the whole time. This story does fit into the continuity of Season Eight, but I think you'll find some nifty character moments along the way. You have an X-Files case and Scully and Doggett discovering what they fear the most. There are also angst and bad horror movie jokes. What could you not love about this? If there's something you don't love, I guess you can blast me in the review. Oh well, I've talked too much. Here's the basic run down for those you that don't remember Season 8: Scully just found out she's pregnant, Doggett just started working on the X-Files, and Mulder has just been abducted. Okay, now let's get to the story, shall we?
Fear. It, along with aggression, is our most basic emotion, our most primal instinct. It even exists in the most primitive part of our brains.
Her name is Jaime. She is seventeen, has her whole life before her, and she's scared out of her mind. She runs through the forest, blinded by her unrelenting terror, as her blonde curls bounce over her shoulders.
Everybody—we all have something we fear. Something that terrifies us beyond the point of words or all rationality. Something that scares us so much that it threatens to devour our souls as it creeps along in the darkest corners of our nightmares. We cannot control what we fear; the best we can do is look it in the face and hope thatit is the first to blink.
She looks behind her, and a small shriek escapes her lips. She starts to run faster. He's catching up. She cannot let him catch her. She's seen what happens when the huge, ominous man does.
My name is Dana Scully. During the last seven years, I have experienced many things—seen many things. I cannot even describe a few of them; many I do not dare think about. Yet, though I have been at the center of all these horrid ordeals and seen many terrible things, none of them are my darkest terror. None of them even begin to measure up to the one thing, two things actually, that I fear the most.
She looks over her shoulder again, and she's surprised and starts to slow down. He is gone. She stops to listen, straining for any sound to let her know where he might be. There is nothing. No noise is in the air. It is like the forest is afraid to speak.
While all the things I have seen give me a chill down my back and make the hairs on my neck stand on end, it's the things I haven't seen, that I do not know, that wake me in the middle of the cold, lonely night.
A twig cracks behind her. She turns, and she screams as the tall, bulky figure wraps his hands around her throat. She struggles like a mouse in the jaws of a snake. It is futile; her body soon goes limp, as another young life is ended before it truly starts.
Not Your Usual Scary Story
The Truth is Out There
Three Days Later
Dana Scully would definitely call this a bad day. Her neighbors, for whatever reason, decided it was a good idea to blast their Enya record at five in the morning. The baby growing inside her decided there was not room for both him and her previous night's dinner, so she shared quality time with the toilet. Once at work, she found out her partner and she got to drive three hours to some no-name town in Virginia, which would have been nice except those were three hours she could have spent on the paperwork they had from the last case. Then, just because he was in on the whole 'annoy the heck out of Scully' conspiracy, the sheriff said they could not meet him at the station; oh no, they had to meet him on some cold, deserted, half-way paved road by the forest. "Great," Scully muttered as she stepped out of the car. "The day's gone to Hell, and it's not even lunch time yet." She had forgotten about that; breakfast had taken a back seat to throwing up dinner. Earlier that morning she had watched in a mild rage as the blonde from homicide grabbed the last donut. Chalk up another mark to whatever force was out to ruin her day.
John Doggett, her current partner and still a relative rookie to the X-Files division, stepped out of the car and leaned against the hood. He was in a better mood than his partner was, but he felt annoyed, having gotten the cold shoulder from her all the way from D.C. Since she was not going to talk to him, he occupied himself by flipping through the manila folder containing the documents they had been faxed Sunday. After skimming them for a while, he said, "Well, Agent Scully, judging by the disturbance of things around the bodies, which would indicate a struggle, and the police report, it looks like we have a double homicide."
Scully glared at him. "Shouldn't you have looked at that before we left D.C.?" she asked.
"I did," Doggett said coolly. "I was just trying to make conversation."
Scully immediately felt bad for snapping at her partner. He had been nothing but professional and loyal to her in the short time she had known him, and she was repaying him with an attitude. She rubbed her temples, and she took a deep breath. "I'm sorry, Agent Doggett. It was…it was a bad morning."
"I understand," he said. He looked off at the forest for a moment, then he chuckled. "I remember my wife…well, ex-wife…Barbara had days like this too when she was pregnant with Luke."
Scully blinked. "Agent Doggett, are you implying my mood is because of raging hormones?"
The blood disappeared from his face. "Uh, no…"
The glare she gave him was the headlights, and he was a big, brown-eyed doe. He shut up and took his torture like a man, knowing there was nothing he could say that would not make it worse. After a while, though, she shook her head and muttered something to herself. "I'm sorry, Agent Doggett," she said, finally gaining control. "I…I think it is hormones. But it was a really bad morning." She chuckled.
Doggett laughed. "It's all right, Agent Scully. So, have you read through the file yet?"
"Yes, I have."
"And what do you make of it?"
"Well, we have two dead teenagers out in the middle of the woods, apparently involved in some kind of drug induced sexual exploit. Just from watching bad slasher movies they should know that's a bad idea, so should we really be surprised they died?" She smiled.
"Funny. Actually, what I was getting at was…I've looked this case up and down, and I don't see no X-file here."
"Neither did I," Scully said. She paused a moment before sighing. She had been doing this for seven years. If one does anything for seven years, she starts to pick up on the little things. "I'll bet you ten dollars," she started, " that the sheriff comes out here with an explanation for why we're meeting him by the woods that goes something like, 'It's a small town. You know how people talk. And, well, they are sure going to talk if they knew about this!'"
Doggett blinked. "This happen a lot in this line of work?"
"More than you'd expect."
Almost on cue, a beaten up and faded police car appeared at the end of the road. It drove slowly up to the agents, and stopped behind their car. A round little man in a brown jacket and a police uniform stepped out and wiped his hands on his pants, leaving a sweaty hand print on them. He was beyond nervous; he had never met with federal officers before and he wanted to show he ran a professional operation.
"Sheriff Hutchins," Scully said, flashing her badge. Doggett did the same. "I'm Special Agent Dana Scully and this is my partner Special Agent John Doggett."
"Nice to meet you, ma'am and sir," the sheriff said, politely shaking their hands.
He stood back for a minute, resting his hands on his hips. He smiled politely at them, and they smiled politely back. He wasn't sure what to say next, so he continued smiling politely. They, of course, returned the courtesy. This continued for a while until Scully put an end to it by saying, "Would you like to tell us why we're meeting you out by the woods?"
"Oh, gosh, sorry," he said. "We would have met at the station, but it's a small town. You know how people talk, and we really don't need people talking about this. It's a bit of a doozey, you might say."
Doggett looked down at the ground as a small smile flickered on Scully's face. Sheriff Hutchins wondered why the agents were trying so hard not to laugh, wondering if he had missed the joke, but he continued anyway. "I thought you two should get a look at the crime scene too. I know it's been three days, but maybe ya'll will see something we didn't. I mean, we're a pretty quiet town. We don't usually get anything like this, let alone two in the same night, so my boys are a little inexperienced in this field. We probably overlooked all kinds of evidence." He started to walk into the woods, and he motioned for Scully and Doggett to follow.
"Yea," Scully muttered under her breath. "Suspense." The only person that heard her was her stomach, and it answered back with a growl.
"So, what's so strange about these murders?" Doggett asked, stepping over a tree root.
"Well, you saw the pictures, right?"
"Yes, sir. We did."
"The boy, Teddy Christian, he died from a harpoon through the throat."
Doggett stopped in his tracks. He pulled the manila folder out and hurriedly flipped through it.
Seeing Doggett had stopped, Hutchins said, "Uh, Agent Doggett, this isn't the crime scene."
"I'm looking at these pictures again, Sheriff, and I can say for certain this kid did not die of a harpoon through the throat. There's no hole, no blood…"
"No harpoon…" Scully muttered quietly, rolling her eyes innocently. She meant it only for herself, but Doggett must have heard it as he shot her a look. She blushed slightly, and tried to regain her professionalism. "What caused you to arrive at this conclusion, Sheriff Hutchins, and why was it not included in report?"
"Well, that's the reason we called you guys. He died of a harpoon wound, but obviously he didn't. That's just a little unusual, don't you think?" Sheriff Hutchins asked.
"Perhaps, but maybe a harpoon isn't the only possible cause of death," Scully said calmly. She was a pro at dealing with these people by now, and, except for the occasional hormone induced slip, she was flawless at it. "Isn't it possible he was poisoned or even strangled?"
"Well, we have an eyewitness account that says it was a harpoon wound."
"There was an eye witness?" Doggett said. He flipped through the folder yet again. "There's no mention of that anywhere on the report."
"That's because she's the other victim."
"Well, I'm just about damned confused," Doggett muttered, dropping his arms to the side.
The officer chuckled nervously. "Well, you see, Jaime and Teddy were out here having a little bit of a…good time…if you catch my drift. Jaime thought her parents were going to be out of town until morning, but they came home around midnight. Her sister was trying to look out for her, so she called her on Jaime's cell phone. Jaime apparently walked off from Teddy to talk to her sister. During that time, Teddy was murdered. She described what she saw to her sister."
"I see," Agent Scully said thoughtfully. "Did Jaime by any chance get a look at the killer?"
"Uh, yes she did…"
"Well, you're not going to believe who it is," Sheriff Hutchins chuckled.
"Try us, Sheriff Hutchins," Scully said.
The officer chuckled again. "It's…It's Jason."
The agents stared blankly at him for a moment.
His smile trembled a little as he began to feel nervous. "You know…Jason."
Again, more silent staring.
"Come on, it's Jason! Friday the 13th Jason. Jason Voorhees!"