Story [The X-Files] Resurgam -- Mulder, Scully, OC's, Mystery, Romance, Angst, Drama. Update 8/16/08

Summary: Something very angry is haunting a tiny graveyard on the Vineyard.

Author's Note: This is actually a completed story, so no worries about abandonment. I'm just posting it in chunks for ease of reading.

After a hundred years
Nobody knows the place,--
Agony, that enacted there,
Motionless as peace.
--Emily Dickinson, J. 1147 ("The Forgotten Grave")

The first question Scully had about the South Road Ghost was whether to classify it as a revenge or reenactment haunting. After seven years of working with Mulder's eccentric record-keeping system, this no longer seemed a strange question to ask. She scanned the one-page fax while sipping her morning coffee, making small notations in the margins with a red pen.

The fax had apparently come from a private citizen, a man named Irv Stuckey who wrote with an old typewriter ribbon and couldn't spell. He complained at some length about how no one at the FBI or his local sheriff's office took him seriously or answered his letters. Great. This kind of case was a nightmare to sell upstairs. Scully wrote at the bottom, "Jurisdiction?"

The relevant part of the letter read:

This aftrenoon at apprx. 3 pm Kristie Herron was found dead at foot of Wesquobsque Cliffs of a brken neck. As you know the South Road gohst does haunt these clifts and you know what for. Kristie had all the marks encluding knife cuts on her hands and leg & it was the right kind of night very cold & windy.

If you do the kind of work J. Luce, Jr. says you do and are not just wasting taxes you will come out and investegate the death of this poor girl. Even with what happend in Boston she deserves better then to die this way & her mother is very broken up. My ph. # is the same as the last letter I sent but since you proabably threw it out here it is again 963-0545.

Sincereley,Irv Stuckey

It wasn't the weirdest or most illiterate letter Scully had received while working on the X-Files, and she didn't let its eccentricities distract her. Irv's description of Kristie's wounds intrigued her particularly. He didn't seem to be a family member and he certainly wasn't a pathologist. Where had he gotten his information? She drew an arrow from his comment about knife cuts to the bottom of the page, where she noted sarcastically, "Clearly, falling over a cliff precludes the possibility these cuts were due to natural causes."

She tapped her pen cap against the former break-room table that served as her desk. Her options were to dismiss Irv's claims and round-file the letter, or accept the case and write it up as some kind of paranormal event. For years she'd left this duty to Mulder on general principles, but eventually her protests against his bookkeeping methods began to feel childish, and now she wrote cases up herself.

Should she go with reenactment haunting or revenge? Irv had hinted that the ghost's appearance was recurrent, which any good paranormal investigator knew was typical of the reenactment type. And yet there were the supposed knife wounds to think of.

Only Mulder would come up with a system that classified paranormal phenomena by motive. Fine -- eenie, meenie, miney, moe . . . Revenge haunting it is. Scully wrote the new case number across the top of the letter, "X-00-300.17-01." The first vengeful ghost of the year 2000.

At that moment the door to the office opened and Mulder came in, sipping coffee from his MUFON mug. "'Morning," he said.

"Good morning," she responded. Though their words were restrained and their manner professional, their gazes met and held too long for mere courtesy.

The familiar electrifying feeling began to build, and soon Scully looked away. The Hoover Building had not been a friendly place for her in some time, and she felt too exposed when she allowed herself to experience powerful emotions while on the job.

The gossip about her and Mulder was nothing new, of course, except that now some of it was true. Worse, the rumors were circulated with a barely-veiled hostility that made them more than just embarrassing. They were offen

 

Ophelia, as much as I see you around in fanfic and in the JCC, I don't actually think I've read anything of yours!

I do love the X-Files though and this reads just like the show! I can't wait to get more on it!

Are you going to be keeping a PM list for when you update?

 

This is a great start, Ophelia. There is a weight in the words that is so indicative of the X-Files. You have set the tone well and given a classic X-File for our favorite duo to investigate.

The fact that his case has personal, historical bearing on Mulder should make this an interesting and 'spooky' ride.

Your style is easily accessible and compelling. ;-)

I also enjoyed Scully's pov and her mixed feelings about a nebulous relationship with Mulder.

Keep up the good work.

 

I officially love you. Not that I didn't love you before, but even more so now.

I laughed so hard at the misspelled letter, mostly because I was picturing you trying to deliberately misspell all those words. Mulder's bookkeeping, that hint of romantic tension, and Scully's comments on the letter - all too good.

But my favorite was the line about Scully's desk - what, no one could find her a real desk?

 

First of all, my sincere apologies to Jade & the other mods . . . this is a story I wrote some time ago, and originally posted on Usenet. Where there aren't moderators or disallowed words. I didn't think about that before copying and pasting the first couple of pages.

It's cleaned up now, and I'll have to watch future installments more carefully.

Second, bless you guys for taking the time to reply.

Jinngerbread: Sure, I can do a PM list. The story is actually long finished, so I can post it at any intervals you like. I was thinking of around 2-3 pages once every 3 days or so . . . IIRC, that was a comfortable pace for most casual readers. (If anybody has to have the whole thing right now, I can PM you the URL. There really aren't that many naughty words in it.)

brodiew: Thank you! At one time, I wrote nothing but creep-factor fics. This was one of my first stabs at adding a romantic relationship to the mix. Also, Mulder and Scully's relationship was canon by then, and I was a canon freak.

Damn, that sounds ridiculous 8 years later!

Jade: I confess I was hoping you'd drop by. Now at least somebody will get references to things like Scully not having a desk! And yes, I think I had to give that fake letter 2 or 3 tries before it looked the proper shade of dreadful.

It must be convincing, because I once got a bad review of this fic from someone who was complaining about all the "spelling errors."

 

aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa!!!!! I'm freaking out! X-Files movie! Friday! I'm going insane!!!

...

Ahem. Yes, sorry. I'm still in shock and glee.

I really enjoyed reading your story. I'm excited to read a new casefile! This is excellent.

It wasn't the weirdest or most illiterate letter Scully had received while working on the X-Files, and she didn't let its eccentricities distract her.

Oh, I bet it isn't!

Can't wait for more!

 

This is really awesome. I haven't been able to watch as much X-Files as I would like before the new movie, so this will do as a nice substitute. You really have Mulder and Sculley down-pat. Definitely would like to be added to the PM list if there is one.

 

Okay, I've been over this a few times, and it should be clean . . . Mulder and Scully are a tetch less "family friendly" than I remember.

*******

"It must have been. She's supposed to appear on cold, windy nights to women who've grievously wronged their own children. Some say she slashes the mothers up with the murder knife, and some say just looking at her drives guilty women mad, and they kill themselves. It's a Lovecraftian, inversion-of-the-natural-order sort of thing. Very Freud, very Brothers Grimm. The only problem is that there's nothing to the story. No one's ever found a record showing that Mary Brown even existed, and I've been over every inch of those woods along the South Shore--daytime, nighttime, summer, winter. The house I grew up in is about three-quarters of a mile from the South Road Burying Ground. There's nothing out there."

"So Irv Stuckey is implying that Kristie Herron deserved to die because of something she did to harm her own child?" Scully asked. "You're right, he is a ****." She hoped that Irv's little theory hadn't made it back to Kristie's family. "Do you think that's what he meant by 'what happened in Boston'--something involving child abuse? Child neglect?"

"I don't know what he meant by that," Mulder said. "As far as I know, Kristie didn't have any kids. It sure doesn't seem right that Patty's old enough to be a grandmother. Christ, that makes me feel ancient."

"Don't remind me," Scully groaned. Only two months ago, she had spent her 36th birthday among a gaggle of relatives, most of them with sticky-fingered toddlers and baby carriers in tow. A cousin had managed to produce the first female Scully child in over fifteen years, a red-haired, blue-eyed baby named Emily Christine. The coloring was the predominant one for their family and the name a coincidence--"Emily" was one of the top ten most-popular girls' names in the country. And yet, the experience had called to mind with terrible sharpness the passage of time and what might have been.

"You've got a long way to go before you're old, Red," Mulder said. He caught her little finger in his hand. Their relationship was still in flux, but there were moments of tenderness to anchor it, like stones at the edges of billowing fabric. At last, Mulder managed to find the much-bent card he was seeking, wedged in the cramped space where the drawer's side met the desk wall. He smoothed it out against the desk with the side of his hand, and Scully saw it read, "Sergeant Joseph A. Luce, Chilmark Police."

Mulder dialed the phone, and after a moment began the introduction she'd heard a thousand times. "Good morning, this is Special Agent Fox Mulder of the FBI and--" He didn't get any farther far a long time.

"On hold?" Scully mouthed.

He shook his head and gave her a pained look. Eventually he said, "Great, Doreen, thanks. Listen, is Joey--" Apparently he'd been cut off again. Several seconds passed. Mulder pushed the speaker phone button and suddenly the air was full of verbiage.

"--and she only just came back from off-Island and was going to meetings and she met a nice guy and everything and it seemed like she was getting her life back together when suddenly this happens and people are saying suicide but they'd never say that if they knew her like I did--" Blessedly, Mulder hit the speaker-off button and Doreen's voice ceased.

"Wow," Scully said.

Doreen must have taken a breath because Mulder said, "I need to talk to Joe." Another pause. "Chief Joe, no kidding. Well, I need to talk to-- . . . Doreen . . . For crying out loud, Dori, would you just put me through to--thank you." Mulder glanced up, looking slightly embarrassed. Holding his hand over the mouthpiece of the phone, he whispered, "Inbred."

Scully looked away, trying very hard not to laugh. She had long been accustomed to the odd combination of nostalgia and distaste Mulder felt toward the one-stoplight town where he was raised. After a few moments, he said, "Hi, Joe, this is Fox Mulder. Yeah, I heard--that's why I'm calling. Actually,

 

I'm loving how you're setting this up! I've always been in awe of those who can write the case-files. Can't wait for more!

 

I'm still here. I'm sorry it's taken me so long to respond.

this story is interesting, if for nothing other than your characterizations. Mulder is more biting than I remember, but Scully is right on. Her objective, with a hint of sadness, look at the situation is well played.

I have to admit that small touches revealed of their relationship is new and evocative. 'Racking sobs' doesn't seem like Mulder, yet we do know how much his mother meant to him. Her suicide must have cut him deeply.

I'm looking forward to taking the investigation to the Vineyard! I like the Chief and I hope we get more of him.

Keep going, Ophelia!

 

Thank you ginchy! Case files always got relatively little love . . . I'm glad you enjoy them.

Sounds like bad fanfic, doesn't it? Ironically, we actually saw that scene--or one very similar. I think the title was Sein Und Zeit . . . it was actually a two-parter.

But yeah, they pulled out all the stops and had Mulder do a complete emotional meltdown. It was impressive. There was nothing left for fanficcers to fanfic.

Anyway, thank you for taking the time to read and reply, and thanks for your insightful comments! Scully may indeed be better done in this fic than Mulder is . . . I find I often write my second-favorite character better. Go figure.

 

Scully released her breath slowly. "I'll volunteer and let the family decide," she said. She hit the phone's mute button and asked, "Chief, are you still there?"

"Still here. What's going on?" Joe asked.

"I'm a forensic pathologist," she said. "Mulder thought I might be of help to the investigation. I'm willing to do the autopsy if you and the family think my experience would be useful."

"She's investigated a lot of strange deaths," Mulder said.

"Well . . . no offense, but I think the State ME has seen his share of strange deaths too," Joe said.

"Not like Scully has. Has Dr. Kreger ever seen a Level 4 biological agent crawl out of a rock, through the seal of somebody's space suit and into a body cavity?" Mulder asked.

"Good God . . . I hope not," said Joe. "Look, if you really want to help, I can mention your offer to Kristie's parents and see what they think. You should call Patty too--she'd be glad to hear from you."

"I'll have to do that. I appreciate you talking to me, Joe," Mulder said.

As Mulder reached toward the disconnect button Joe said, "Hey, Fox? You know there's no hard feelings, right? My uncle and I didn't have the same opinions on everything."

"Sure. Talk to you later," Mulder said.

"Yeah, bye," Joe said. Mulder hung up the phone.

"What was that about?" Scully asked.

"It's a long story," Mulder said. "One of these complicated things that happens in small towns where people get cut off from the world during the winter." He started gathering up the pile of bent cards and notes and pushing them back in his desk drawer.

"Such as? Are we talking Donner's Pass or what?" Scully asked. She saw a flicker of amusement cross his face.

"Not quite." He shut the drawer and looked up at her. "Joey's uncle was the Chilmark Chief of Police back in the 70's. He never thought much of my family's story about how my sister disappeared."

"He blamed you," Scully said.

"He blamed my father, actually. No charges were ever filed but we became personae non gratae with the neighbors pretty quick. I had to listen to a lot of ******** when I went back to the Vineyard to visit my dad. At one point Joey actually accused me of helping to cover up my sister's murder, so I punched his lights out for him. It didn't exactly endear me to the Island's premier law enforcement family."

"I bet not," Scully said.

"Back during my father's murder investigation, Joe's uncle, who--okay, first, Joe's uncle was also named Joseph Luce. You just have to learn to keep them straight. It's one of those small-town . . ." Judging by his expression, whatever word he was searching for was not complimentary. "Look, everybody out there has the same name and they've got flukemen that wash up on the beach. Just imagine 'Deliverance' set in rural Massachusetts."
Scully found she would rather not, given experiences like the Peacock case, but she let him finish.
"Anyway, Uncle Joe was Dukes County Sheriff when Krycek murdered my dad," Mulder said. "Unfortunately, the Sheriff's Department hadn't forgotten me."

"Sheriff Luce called me," Scully said, remembering suddenly. "He left about three messages a day on my answering machine when I was in New Mexico."

"He called me too. He and Liz Hawley of the West Tisbury PD figured I was looking pretty good for the only up-island homicide in 20 years. Then you managed to trace the gun back to Krycek and the investigation stalled out over a literal shadowy one-armed man. I can imagine that went over real well with old Joe Luce."

"He couldn't have wanted you to be guilty," Scully said.

"No," Mulder said. "It was the law of averages that bugged him. Do the Mulders: A., have the worst luck in history, or B., have connections to dangerous people they shouldn't? I think he had us pegged as an organized crime family. Might not have been far wrong, really."

"Mulder, that is completely unfair to your parents. Your father died trying to expose the men who killed him," Scully said.

"Yeah," Mulder said, as if unwillingly conceding the point. "Joey called me after what

 

Ah opehlia, you are just amazing with how well you write these characters. I can hear them so very clearly. And I happen to love these case files as mystery and intrigue builds.


Ever done any original work with stuff like this, out of curiosity?

 

Your Mulder and Scully are classic. I'm really enjoying this a lot. That last bit, especially, was just perfect, and I agree that you can hear the characters speak in this. Great update!

 

Another excellent chapter.

This case is already bringing up old history for Mulder. He's doens't seem to like remembering. Bad enough that his family dynamic was a bit dysfuctional, but to have to also bear the perceptions of other could make a life hard. Mulder, in general, always seemed a giddy little boy, laced with a hint of sadness. His drive to investigate the unknown is high, even exciting, but his family history and is never far from the surface. Mulder seems bitter here. It appears that he feels compelled to help, though it wouldn't be his first choice.

I still like Joey and hope we get more of him. Perhaps and Fox will commiserate?

Keep up the good work!

 

Thanks, you guys. And Jinngerbread, I've definitely thought about writing original fic, I just never do it.

Sorry this took a bit. I had to rewrite this some to fit TFN standards . . . and because 8 years ago, I kinda sucked.

**********

A few hours later Scully got a message asking her to go up to Skinner's office. Mulder's presence was not requested. Though she couldn't think of anything she'd done lately that would get herself in trouble, she went with a sense of trepidation. When Skinner's secretary showed her in, she said, "You asked to see me, sir?" Please don't let this be about anything Mulder did . . . she thought. She hated it when their superiors tried to play them against one another.

"Have a seat, Agent," Skinner said, gesturing toward an empty chair. This was never a good sign. Scully smoothed her skirt under her and sat down. "I just received a call from the Cape Cod and Islands District Attorney's office," Skinner said. "They said you'd volunteered to do the autopsy of a young woman in Boston."

"Yes--is that a problem?" Scully asked.

"No. In fact I think it's a wonderful idea," Skinner said.

"Sir?" Scully asked. Something was up. Skinner never called anything she and Mulder did "wonderful."

"Agent Scully . . . there are people in the Bureau who don't appreciate the work you and Agent Mulder do. They don't see its value. This would be a good time for you to perform a service they can appreciate. I can have you in Boston tonight so you can do the autopsy first thing in the morning. Volunteering to do work outside of normal office hours will reflect positively on your next performance review," Skinner said.

As usual, Scully was left scrambling to read between the lines. "Is the validity of my and Agent Mulder's work being questioned more than usual, sir?" she asked.

"Why would you say that?" Skinner asked.

"You mentioned this would be 'a good time' to perform a service others can appreciate," Scully said.

"It's always a good time for that. Your flight leaves at six." When she didn't move at once, he added, "If you need to pack a bag you might want to get going."

A few minutes later she was back in the basement, slamming the door to the office. Mulder stood up behind his desk. "What happened? What'd he say?" he asked.

"We're in trouble," Scully said. She pulled her purse from its usual place in a file drawer and dropped it on her desk.

"For what? I haven't even broken my cell phone lately," Mulder said. He crossed the room to stand by her side.

"I don't know. He was dropping hints about us needing to do PR work to appease the powers that be. I get really tired of these guessing games. Why can't he be straight with us for once?" She retrieved her dictaphone's batteries from where they sat charging on a shelf and tossed them into her purse.

"He might be trying to do us a favor," Mulder said.

"Maybe. I can never tell. And he doesn't even ask me, 'Is a six o'clock flight convenient for you?' It's, 'If you want to pack a bag, you'd better go." Scully recalled it was supposed to rain that weekend. She strode toward their lopsided hat rack to grab her umbrella.

Mulder caught her by the wrist, gently turning her toward him. "Hey . . . hey, calm down. When was the last time you were in Boston?" he asked.

"It's been a long time," she said. It was actually for his father's funeral in 1993, but she thought it best not to mention that.

"Well, when you get done with the autopsy I'll show you around. It's a great city if you don't mind homicidal drivers," Mulder said.

"Mulder, you're not going," she said.

"Yes, I am," he said.

"No, you're not. Skinner made it clear he was authorizing one plane ticket. It was only by being an Assistant Director of the FBI that he guaranteed me a flight out tonight at all."

"I can drive," Mulder said. She thought he was trying not to laugh. It really bugged her when he thought she was funny. "It's a six hour trip--four, if I drive like I'm already in Boston." He gently shook her wrist

 

She pitched a wad of paper at him. Mulder picked up his coffee mug and started speaking to it. "Did you like that, Cancer Man? Huh? That turn you on?" His clowning did not completely dissipate the tension. It was still there, like thunder in the distance.

"Mulder, they are not bugging your coffee cup," Scully told him.




Wouldn't put it past them.

I wonder why Skinner didn't authorize Mulder to go along. The plot is thickening.

Really enjoying it, ophelia!

 

ooh, a little office smoochy-smoochy. hee. I'm really digging this story!!

And--

"We're in trouble," Scully said. She pulled her purse from its usual place in a file drawer and dropped it on her desk.

"For what? I haven't even broken my cell phone lately," Mulder said. He crossed the room to stand by her side.



OMG. CLASSIC. Great update!!

 

Sorry it took me so long to catch up.


I really love your characterization of them. And I wish I had some X Files that I could watch right now. Your writing makes me crave it. I loved the bit with Mulder saying the coffee cup and/or the light socket was bugged.

 

I really liked this chapter. The tenderness of their basement interlude was well played. I espcially loved the Scully characterization, as I have so far in this fic.

Mulder had always shown a perverse enjoyment of stirring up the fires of desire in locations where it was impossible for it to flourish. It occurred to Scully that she probably ought to just slap him and leave. Instead, she leaned into his touch, letting her eyes fall shut as he pressed his lips against the hair at her temple.

I really liked the imagery here.

By the way, what is Skinner up to?

 

Jinngerbread: I actually do think about doing original work, now and then, mostly when I'm forced to realize how much work goes into my writing, and how much I don't get paid for it. The thing is, I just don't enjoy doing original writing the way I do writing fanfic. I guess I'll take something hard but satisfying over something hard but not-very-satisfying, and not even guaranteed to make money for me.

ginchy: Thank you! I used to watch way too much of that show. I think I've probably lost the sense of the characters' voices now, but at one time, I could "hear" them talking in my head any time I wanted.

P.S. i am not insane i am not

GJR: I'm glad that this can provide at least a little bit of an X-Files fix . . . that's what it was written to do.

brodiew: Welcome to my thread! And yes, I think that Mulder's character really was key to making the series work . . . he had the perfect blend of childlike wonder and haunting sadness. David Duchovny was the actor to sell the whole package to the audience, as well . . . I don't think TXF ever recovered after he left.

And as for what Skinner's doing, it's a reference to events in an episode following this one . . . I think it has to be "Requiem," although I can't actually remember. Stupid brain!!

Thank you all for taking the time to read and reply, btw!
*********************

A/N: In the original there is a very brief paragraph basically stating that Mulder has met up with Scully in Boston, and that they spend the night "together."

It's kind of borderline for these boards, and I'm too tired to re-write it, so I'll just include the last two lines.

Anything you imagine will actually be in improvement on the original.

Also--the heartbeat/Daniel Waterston references are from the episode "all things" (lowercase letters if you pleeeeze), which came out about the time I was writing this.

****************

CENSORZ! ZOMG!!

. . . he hit his head on the mass of coat hangers and made them jangle. She told him he had been alone with his porn collection for far too long.

In the gray hour just before dawn Scully lay in bed with her head resting in the hollow of Mulder's shoulder. He'd been asleep for more than an hour, but sleep eluded her. She lay watching the green numbers on the clock as they counted their inexorable way toward 7 a.m. Typical. She placed her hand on his left chest, felt the slow beat of his heart below the ribcage.

Her thoughts turned to Daniel. Neither quite awake or asleep, her memories played themselves out as images and sensations.

It seemed that she was once again an ambitious young pathology Resident, sitting in a lecture hall while Daniel addressed his first-year med students. He strode back and forth before the first row of seats, sometimes climbing up into the risers. All his notes were in his head, so he was free to make eye contact with as many students as possible. He smiled; he joked with them. A few of the less charismatic staff members derisively called him Dr. Elvis. It didn't matter. In a class of 100 students, every one of them would go home feeling as if Daniel had been speaking to him or her personally.

That afternoon he had been speaking about an outbreak of hemorrhagic fever in Bolivia. Not exactly romance novel stuff. And yet the sunlight poured through the tall, narrow windows, gilding away the gray in his hair and flashing off the cuff studs of his blue-and-white striped shirt as he gestured. He spoke so passionately that she almost felt as if she were in church, watching a fiery preaching of the gospel.

Scully's first crush had been on a young deacon who helped celebrate youth Masses near the Texas naval base where her family lived in the late 70's.

In Daniel's classroom she felt like a wicked schoolgirl once again, and relished every moment of it. All she had to do was look attentive and innocent. No one had to know about the

 

I've been reading this in starts and stops and I think it is wonderful. Mulder and Scully are very well written.

 

Lovely update.

She could just hear Father McCue saying, "Do you, Fox, swear to prefer Dana to aliens on most occasions as long as you both shall live?"
Priceless.

And I have some reserves about this Rob fellow...

 

They seem like they're in for some fun. Great story.