TITLE: UNDER YOUR BED, IN THE CLOSET, BEHIND YOU (1 of 1)

AUTHOR: DAVID HEARNE

CLASSIFICATION: Post-ep for "The Calusari"

RATING: PG

PERMISSION TO ARCHIVE: Yes.

Send feedback to ottercrk@sover.net

Website is located at http://members.dencity.com/hearne

AUTHOR'S NOTE: I had promised that I would do "Rain King" for my next
post-ep, but this story felt more ready to go. Besides, I have a slight
problem with the other one. My idea for "Rain King" is to send Dana Scully
to a high school reunion. I want to include some dopey early eighties pop
singles but none come to mine. Any suggestions?

By the way, Dana Scully will *not* be meeting a former love of hers.

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At first, he kept the television on to cover up other sounds. Then he
decided that the pitch of the infomercial salesman was a distraction from
things to which he should listen. With a flick of a button, the television
screen faded to black. He lay on his couch.

He was aware of an enormous silence. There were tiny noises pressed against
this silence -- the bubbling in the pet fish tank, the steps of a neighbor
in the apartment overhead, the creak in his couch as he shifted his body --
but this thick void stood above them all. Yet it didn't diminish the other
sounds. If anything, it seemed to nourish the tiny noises. They had a power
which they would never have in an active factory or a crowded theater.
Silence strengthened them.

Silence and the darkness.

A few lights existed in the living room. The fish tank had a lit bulb in it.
Numbers glowed on the digital readout of a VCR. A lampost on the street
smeared a pale slanted rectangle down one wall. They took no sustenance from
the darkness as the sounds did. They only seemed puny and inconsequential.

He was tempted to turn on more lights but he wasn't ready to do that yet. He
wanted to challenge the darkness, the silence, the tiny sounds. This was a
display of strength. You don't frighten me, he was saying. You don't...

A humming started in the ceiling. The vents, he thought. Or the pipes. Or
something else running through this building like veins.

He heard a buzz. Was that a fly? Yes, it was a fly. A fly somewhere in...

Now the wind -- the sound of coldness. He could hear blown leaves scratch
against the window. His eyes turned towards there.

They stopped at the wall, halting at the slanted rectangle of light.

There was a shadow stretched across the light. It was long and gnarled.

It was an arm.

Pointing a crooked finger at him.

He sat up and let out a gasp.

After a few rough heartbeats, he could see the arm was actually a tree
branch bent by the wind. He closed his eyes and rubbed his face. It took a
minute before his heart could slow down to a normal speed.

Then he turned on every light in his apartment.

That wasn't enough, though. He sat down by the phone for a long time. He
reached for it and pulled back his hand three times.

On the fourth time, he made a call. It was answered in the middle of the
second ring.

"Hello?"

"Scully, it's me."

He heard a brief exhalation of breath. What did that sound mean? Unease?
Relief?

"Oh. Hey, Mulder. What's up?"

"I was...I was just thinking about you. I wanted to see if you were all
right."

"Why wouldn't I be?"

He paused -- longer than she wanted.

"Mulder?"

"Yeah, I'm here."

"Is there some specific reason why you called?"

He rested an elbow on a table and pressed a hand against his forehead.

"Mulder, talk to me."

"I don't like this."

"Like what?"

"Being scared."

Now it was her turn to not speak. Her silence disturbed him as well.

"Scully, are you there?"

"I'm right here."

"I really need to hear your voice right now."

"Yes, well...I like hearing yours, too."

A tight smile managed to form on his lips. "Are all the lights on in your
apartment, too?"

"Ah...most of them, I would say."

Then they were both quiet, except for the sound of breathing over the
phoneline. It was another noise made strong by the silence.

Scully finally spoke. "We've faced danger before, Mulder."

"I know. But this is...different. I keep hearing that old man's voice. 'It
knows you.' And I remember..."

...the pale, sweaty, howling face of the young boy, Scully, just as you will
remember the same boy with a knife in his hand and the mother pressed
against the wall and the shadows and the noises and I can't do this alone, I
can't stay alone here in the dark...

He didn't say these things. He stopped himself before he did. Instead, he
waited for her to say something.

Anything.

What she did say was "We don't need to be attacked in order to be destroyed,
Mulder."

"You mean, if we spend too many nights with the lights on, then we'll be
grazing on the funny farm."

"Something like that."

Another pause. More breathing. More silence.

"You know what I'm going to do, Mulder?"

"What?"

"I'm going to turn off the lights in my apartment. Then I'm going to bed.
And I will see you in the morning."

He cleared his throat and said, "Is that a promise?"

"That's a fact."

She waited for him to speak. After letting out a long breath, he said, "Good
night."

"Good night."

He hung up. Then he looked around at his bright apartment.

He went through all the rooms. One by one, he turned off the lights. The
last one still glowing was a lamp next to the couch. His hand touched the
switch.

He didn't move the switch. He stood still, looking at the lampshade.

And listening to the sounds behind him.

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