Latrodectus by Vickie Moseley

2005-10-28T15:05:00.000-07:00

Latrodectus
Author: Vickie Moseley
Summary: Written for VS 13 Halloween Special Event.
Scully goes trick or treating with Tara and
the kids, but was it wise to leave Mulder alone for the night?
Category: V, A, MT
Rating: One curse, the rest is pretty harmless
Disclaimer: I'm not profiting off
this work of fiction, so back off
lawyer dudes! No copyright infringement intended.
Archive: VS 13 exclusive for two weeks from posting.
After that, yes Author's notes: I've been dying to do this one for a
long time and finally it fell into place.
Hope everyone takes it in the 'spirit' it's given.
Feedback: vickiemoseley1978@yahoo.com

Latrodectus
by Vickie Moseley

Mulder and Scully's residence
Washington, DC
October 31, 2005, 5:15 pm

Two feet were visible from under the wooden back porch steps of 3506 N Street NW. Two large feet
clad in equally large boots. The boots wiggled and shifted as their owner attempted to hammer the
support into the top step. When a loud yelp was heard from under the stairs, Dana Scully got up
from her perch on the step and walked into the house in search of the first aid kit.

"Maybe I should call Tara and tell her I can't make it," Scully called over her shoulder as she heard her
partner and impromptu carpenter enter the house.
"That's ridiculous, Scully. You promised Tara you'd help her take the kids trick or treating around
your Mom's neighborhood. Why would you back out now?" Mulder asked, around his index finger
that was stuck in his mouth. "Bandaid," he added and withdrew the injured digit to show her the
damage.

"I just . . . well, I don't like leaving you alone, if you know the truth of the matter," she said reluctantly as
she fastened the fabric strip to his slightly mangled extremity.

"You think I'm going to invite a bunch of nubile young coeds from the college in here and have an
orgy?" he whispered with a mocking grin.

"No, I think you'll end up maimed or worse," she shot back, turning to put away the first aid kit.

He frowned at that. "You leave me alone all the time, Scully. What's so different about tonight?"

"Tonight, Mulder, is Halloween. Do I really need to recite the last several Halloween 'annual trips to
the ER' to make you understand my concern?"

"Last year I was treated and released," he said pointedly.

She rolled her eyes and pushed past him. "My point exactly," she said as she walked toward the phone.

"Scully, don't be silly!" he admonished. "Look, I have a the baseball playoff games that I didn't watch
on the DVR, I have an entirely new unopened package of Act II Butter Lovers microwave
popcorn, AND a six-pack of Sam Adams Octoberfest -- to be honest with you, you would
only be in my way tonight!" That got him a glare that almost caused him to rethink his plans. After a
moment's hesitation, he rested his hands on her shoulders. "Tara needs you tonight. She has two
little goblins dying to trick or treat and you know what a handful they can be. I will be safe and snug
in our little home. I promise I won't even turn on the porch light so I'm not accosted by some vicious
11 year-old on a bad dextrose trip. The worst thing you'll find when you come home later tonight is that
all of my car windows will have been soaped. Now, please, go to your sister-in-law's and have a good
time!"

"You promise me you won't go out anywhere."

"Indian Guide's honor," he affirmed, holding his fist with two fingers extended to the back of his head.

Scully sighed heavily. "I'm gonna be so angry if I end up spending another All Saints Day next to
your bedside, Mulder."

"How about in my bed?" he asked suggestively.

"Can it, Romeo, you know we have work tomorrow," she huffed. "OK, I'm going. I will be
back by 10:30 at the latest. If you need me, I'll have my cell phone on at all times."

"Scully, you sound like I'm the sitter. Who, pray tell, am I supposed to 'sit'?"

"I'm trying not to dwell on the answer to that question. It might make me rethink this whole
evening."

6:25 pm

Mulder was deep in the National League Central Division game between the reigning Division
Champion St. Louis Cardinals and the Houston Astros. He already knew the Cards would win, a
homer late in the ninth inning that would leave the Houston fans reeling. The Cards would go on to
lose the title the next night, but it was still a fun series to watch. He was fast-forwarding through yet
another Bud Light commercial when his stomach gave him a sharp tug.

Absently rubbing his stomach, he headed into the kitchen. Food. His body needed sustenance. He
pulled out the sandwich meat from the refrigerator and was reaching for the loaf of bread when the
small tug grew to a pain that doubled him over. It was gone so quickly he almost could have
convinced himself he imagined it. He was puzzling over his strange indigestion when he heard a knock
at the back door.

He flipped on the light to the back porch and peered into the dimly illuminated area. An older woman
stood under the cover of the porch roof, the wind whipping at her grey streaked hair. She shivered as
he debated whether to open the door, making his decision an easy one.

"Can I help you?" Mulder asked, watching the old woman trembling in the force of the wind. "Are
you lost?"

"No, deary me, no," she replied. "I'm Mrs. Dickens.
I live just down the street. I understand you and your wife are fairly new to the neighborhood."

"Well, we moved in over a year ago," Mulder interjected but the old woman continued as if she
hadn't heard him.

"I have a little Halloween tradition for the neighbors on this block. Candied apples. My grandmother
taught me how to make them with cinnamon red hots. They're quite tasty. Anyway, I just wanted to
drop these off to you and your misses. You were away last year and missed out on the fun." She
promptly handed him two shiny red apples wrapped in cellophane, tied with colorful orange and black
paper ribbon.

"Oh, well, that's awfully thoughtful of you, Mrs. Dickens, thank you. My, uh, Dana's out taking her
nephew and niece trick or treating, but I'll be sure to tell her you stopped by."

"I best be running along. Other deliveries to make, you know. Have a nice evening then," she said with
a wave and disappeared into the darkness beyond the porch light.

Mulder stared out into the autumn night, watching the old woman scurry down the alley to the next
house. Odd behavior, he thought, but not unlike the folks out on the Vineyard. Halloween was a
favorite holiday in his youth. He remembered the candied apples made by Mrs. Galbrand, their next-
door neighbor, every year for the kids in the subdivision.

He put the apples on the counter near the sink, intent on waiting until Scully returned to indulge in
the treat. His stomach grumbled loudly and he remembered his early bout of -- what had that been?
Hunger pains? Unlikely, he'd had a decent lunch.
But his stomach growled again and he found himself reaching for the nearest apple. With boyish
anticipation, he pulled off the ribbon and cellophane and lifted the apple to his lips. The cinnamon scent
rolled off the fruit in waves and he stopped to savor it. Finally, his mouth watering, he took a big bite.

It was heaven! Just as he remembered, maybe even better. Whatever the recipe was, he was going to
have to see if Mrs. Dickens would share it with Scully. Better yet, with Maggie, who would put it
to better use. He was about to take a second bite when the kitchen light flared once and then again.
The room started to spin around him. He reached out his hand to steady himself as his eyes rolled
back in his head and he felt himself falling.

He awoke slowly. He could hear the monitor beeping next to his head. Oh crap, was his first
thought. He felt something warm surrounding his hand. Scully's hands, he reasoned. She was by his
bedside again. She would want to know he was awake. But did he really want to curry her wrath by
letting her know it? What had she said to him just before leaving? How angry she'd be if she had to
spend another All Saints Day by his bedside. He could only hope she managed to scrape up a little
sympathy, since he was obviously in ill health.

He heard a soft sniffle and knew he couldn't pretend any longer. Anger, he could hide from but he hated
to make Scully cry. Slowly, he tried to open his eyes. They wouldn't cooperate. He moved his hand
and felt her fingers tighten on his. He moved his head, still trying to make his lids open.

"Mulder," she sighed hopefully.

Finally, his eyes cooperated. He was definitely in a hospital bed, he could tell by the lighting. He
looked at Scully and the smile that lit her face could have powered a ship to the moon. "Hi," she said,
her voice choked with emotion.

"Scully," he replied, swallowing. It felt like he hadn't had water in months. He swallowed again
and looked at her. Something was wrong. Her hair was different. Not short with the little bit of curl
she'd finally adopted and he'd thoroughly approved.
It was longer, almost past her shoulders. She looked tired, so very tired. Oh, God, he considered,
how long had he been sick? "Scully," he tried again.

"Shh, Mulder, don't talk," she chided. "Do you have any idea what you've been through?"

He searched her face. Her eyes held a thousand emotions, most prominent was pain. He'd really
done it this time. Whatever had happened, he'd caused her untold anguish. He wondered if he
could ever make it up to her. "Only what I see in your eyes," he whispered.

She laid her head on his chest and kissed him through the hospital gown. Tentatively, he brought
his hand up to stroke her head. "Anybody miss me?" he joked.

It worked. He could feel her laughter through his ribs, his sore ribs now that he thought about it. In
fact, his whole body ached, all the way down to his toes. He wanted to know what was wrong with
him, but Scully's laughter had turned to tears, he could feel her quaking with the force of her sobs.

"Hush, Scully, don't cry. I'm OK now. I'm OK. C'mere, look at me. See, I'm fine."

"Mulder," she started but then the door opened. Her head jerked over to catch sight of a man Mulder had
never seen standing in the doorway. The guy ignored Mulder completely, looking only at Scully.
Their eye contact was their only communication.
The man nodded his head once and slowly closed the door, leaving them alone. She turned her
attention back to Mulder.

"Mulder," she began again. He couldn't figure out what was so difficult. What couldn't she tell him?
How sick was he? Was he dying? Had that been his doctor at the door? That didn't make sense, the
doctor would have come in and poked and prodded him, they all did every other time he'd been in the
hospital.

"Scully, please, what is going on? What can't you tell me?" he pleaded.

She frowned, biting her bottom lip. Cautiously, she pushed the chair she was sitting in back a few
inches, raising to stand by his bed. As she rose, his gaze stayed on her face. Tears were streaking down
her cheeks. Slowly, hesitantly, she placed her hand on her rounded stomach --

"Jesus, Scully, what happened with you? You look pregnant!" he exclaimed, suddenly not able to pull
in enough air.

"Mulder, let me explain . . . "

"Scully, what is it? Is it the cancer? How did this happen so quickly? What the hell is going on?" he
demanded.

She licked her lips nervously. "No, Mulder, I look pregnant because I am pregnant," she said slowly.
"You've been -- oh, God, how do I tell you?"

"Pregnant? Scully, that's impossible. You're barren. We've never used birth control -- we never
needed to use it. Surely you would have become pregnant before now!"

"Mulder we tried the invitro last spring . . ."

"We tried _what_?" he cried out. "Scully, we never talked about kids. It was always too painful. And
we never . . . I never . . ." Suddenly pieces started clicking into place. He felt as if his heart was in a
vice and it was being crushed. "Scully, who was that man at the door a minute ago," he asked, his
voice low and frightened.

"That was my partner, John Doggett," she said simply. "Mulder, this baby -- "

"P-p-partner? I'm your partner," he stammered in a pained whisper. "Scully, is this baby -- did you and
he -- how long have I been ill?"

"Oh, this is not going well," she said simply and sat down again. She took his hand in her two and held
it tight. "Mulder, you went missing 7 months ago. You went out to Bellefleur, Oregon on a case
involving multiple abductees."

"No, it was Halloween, Scully. You were trick or treating with Tara, Matty and Claire," he
interrupted.

"Who's Claire?" she asked, frowning in confusion.

"Your niece. Bill and Tara's daughter. Claire. Scully, you have to remember her."

"Bill and Tara only have Matthew, Mulder," she insisted. "But anyway, you were . . . Mulder you
were abducted."

"By whom?" he asked, more befuddled than ever.

She rolled her eyes in exasperation. "By a ship, Mulder. A ship in the sky. Skinner was there with
you at the time, he saw it happen. Mulder, you were abducted along with Teresa Nemman and her
husband Ray Hoese and several other people.
Many of them were returned and some of them lived, but Mulder, when you were returned -- " She
choked on the words. "Mulder, you were dead. You were dead and we buried you three months
ago." Unable to hold back the sobs, she dropped her head to her hands and shook for all she was
worth.

He sat there, stunned. "Scully, if I'm dead, and buried, how the hell are we having this
conversation?"

His words gave her something to focus on. She lifted her eyes to his. "Billy Miles," she said
quietly.

"From our first case," he supplied.

"Yes. He was there, when you were abducted. He was abducted, too. And when he was returned, his
body was in the ocean -- for three months. He was pulled out of the sea by some fishermen. When
they got his body to the morgue, the ME noticed that he was, uh, breathing."

"After three months in water? Maybe he'd been in hiding, maybe he just fell in. Remember when you
found me near Bermuda, Scully," he reminded her.

"Mulder, the body was partially decomposed. It showed all the signs of prolonged exposure to salt
water. But somehow, he was alive."

"But you said I was buried. Did you bury me at sea?" he sneered. He didn't want to be angry with
her, she was having such a difficult time, but her whole tangled story was starting to annoy him. He
just wanted the truth out of her so he could go to sleep.

"No, you were buried in North Carolina, near your mother. After Skinner heard about Billy, he had
your casket exhumed."

"So Skinner dug me up. Somehow, that's fitting," Mulder muttered.

"At first, it appeared that you were just barely alive. And then when Billy shed his skin -- "

He started to interrupt her again, but one look silenced him. He nodded for her to continue.

"He became an alien," she said with a cleansing breath.

"An -- "

"Alien," she repeated softly. "And then he took off."

"Scully, one of us is having a really bad dream -- "

"Mulder, this is true, every word of it. I can't explain it all, I don't know how it happened. All I
know is that you were gone. I found out about this," she patted her stomach, "the day Skinner told
me you had been taken. And then I looked for you, in the desert in New Mexico. I could feel you
nearby but I couldn't see you. I searched for months, never giving up until the night we found
you in the middle of a field. Mulder, you were dead. There was no denying it. And the only man
who could save you, who could possibly bring you back, was gone."

"But I'm here. And unless this is a Halloween Haunting, I'm alive," he asserted.

"Yes. Thank God, you are. When the ME in North Carolina detected vital signs, vital signs that had not
been there previously in your body, Skinner and Doggett had you shipped here to Bethesda. At first,
we had you on life supports. But then, something happened and for some reason Skinner took you off
life supports. And that's when it hit me. That was incubating the alien, the one gestating inside your
body."

Mulder blanched, his mind flashing on Scully in a frozen cryopod, an alien fetus feeding off her life
force. "Oh, God, Scully," he said, his face taking on a chalky complexion.

"Mulder, stay with me. We took you into surgery and injected you with every anti-viral available.
You stabilized. If you'd actually been . . . taken over, you would have shed your skin and been
totally reborn. You would have been in perfect health, no visible scars or injuries. Mulder, if you
could see yourself right now, you'd know that didn't happen. They tortured you, Mulder. They did
horrible things to your body and I'm so sorry I wasn't there to stop it from happening." Again, it
was too much for her to bear and she started to weep.

It was all so much to understand. He'd been gone for 7 months. Scully had a new partner. His life, as
he knew it, was irrevocably changed. Could he ever get his old life back?

"Your mom, Tara, do they know . . . I'm alive?"

"I haven't called Mom yet," she said through her tears. "Why would I call Tara?"

"Well, I missed an awful lot of soccer games. God, poor Matty! I promised to help his tee ball coach
this spring. Poor kid's been through the wringer."

"Why would Matty be affected, Mulder?" she asked innocently.

That hit him in the gut. He felt more than annoyed at her attitude, he felt offended. "Gee, Scully, I
know I could never replace Bill but I thought I provided at least a shadow of a male influence in
the kid's life. Now you act like he wouldn't give a damn if I lived or died!"

"Mulder. Bill, Tara and Matty live in San Diego. When Mom told her about your death, Tara sent a
nice floral arrangement to the funeral home and a card she got at the local Hallmark store. They don't
know you well enough -- and besides, I don't think Bill does care if you live or die. He made that
perfectly clear when I told him about the baby!"

Now he was even more confused, and suddenly very worried. "Scully, sweetheart, Bill died, just a
little over a year ago, well, two years ago now, I guess. Don't you remember?"

She looked stricken for a moment, but pulled down her calm face. She reached over and brushed his
forehead. "Mulder, I think, I think you've become very confused. I think -- maybe your brain -- " She
choked up again, but forced the words out. "Your brain affliction -- "

"What 'brain affliction'? Scully, my brain is fine!" he declared emphatically. "How could I have a
brain affliction? And if I did, why didn't you tell me about it?"

Now she was angry. "You didn't tell ME about it!" she shouted. "You were seeking treatment in North
Carolina for a month before you disappeared and you never said a word to me!"

"Scully, for the last month we've been out in California chasing a little Anasazi guy! I was right
with you the entire time!"

"What Anasazi?" she demanded. And just as suddenly, while he watched, her features melted
into green goo. He remembered seeing it before but he'd been under the influence of a powerful narcotic
supplied him by a killer mushroom in Georgia. He closed his eyes against his horror and promptly
passed out.

Northeast Georgetown Medical Center
November 2, 2005
10:13 am

"Mulder? Mulder, c'mon. The doctor says you should be waking up now. The antivenin has been
in your bloodstream long enough to counter the effects of the bite. Wake up, please?" Scully was
pleading with him to wake up. But did he want to? He remembered the last time he'd woken up and he
didn't want to face that again. She should have lefthim dead and buried. But that thought gave him no
comfort either.

"Mulder, please. I told Mom and Tara to bring the kids by later to see you. Matty picked out all the
Snickers from his treats bag just for you because he said you buy them for him after his soccer games.
C'mon, open those beautiful eyes for me," she crooned.

At the mention of Matty and soccer games, Mulder forced his eyes open. "Scully," he rasped.

She gave him that smile he lived for. "Hi," she said.

He studied her face carefully. Her hair was back to normal; her face was thin as it had been when she
left the house to go trick or treating. But he had to make sure his assumptions were correct. "Scully,"
he said in a hoarse whisper. "Would you please stand up?"

She gave him a perplexed look, but did as he asked. She was thin, perfectly thin.

"Thank God," he murmured.

"Mulder, do you have any idea what you've been through?" she asked.

It startled him and he flinched. She immediately reached out her hand and cupped his cheek.
"Mulder, we have black widow spiders under the back porch," she said sadly. "I called Mr. Timmons
after we got you to the ER. He had an exterminator come out yesterday. Oh, and he said next time, he'll
be happy to fix that loose board. As a matter of fact, he was so upset about you getting bitten, he's
going to replace those steps with cement ones just as soon as he can arrange for a contractor."

"Did you say black widow?" he asked. "But I thought -- what about Mrs. Dicken's candied
apple?"

"What candied apple, Mulder? As near as we can tell, you were bitten under the porch. That scratch
you had on your finger was actually a bite. You should have experienced stomach cramps -- "

"I did. I thought it was hunger pangs," he admitted.

"Well, not long after that you probably passed out. The bites are small but black widow venom is 15
times more poisonous than a snakebite."

He cringed again. "Don't say snakebite around me, Scully. You know how I get," he warned.

"Mulder, you had a serious episode. You've had hallucinations, at least as far as we could tell, for the
past two days."

"So it's not All Saints Day?" he asked sheepishly.

"No. It's All Souls Day. And I was beginning to think I needed to go to Mass this morning and pray
for your soul," she countered. "Mulder, a spider?"

"Scully, I didn't mean to get bitten by a poisonous spider. I'm not even afraid of spiders," he said with
a shrug. "Although, now I might have to rethink that. Maybe it's not a phobia if -- "

"Mulder, here is what I think. Next Halloween, we're going some place deserted and we're going to
look for ghosts!"

He looked at her in total shock and amazement.
"Scully, what are you suggesting?"

"I'm not suggesting anything, Mulder. I'm telling you. The only time we haven't ended injured, or
more specifically when YOU haven't ended up injured on Halloween is when we went ghost
busting in Prairie du Rocher, Illinois and we saw the King's Emissary's Ghost Funeral. So next year,
we're going to find another haunted site -- "

"Houdini's grave? Please, Scully, can we go to Harry Houdini's grave?" he begged.

She smiled affectionately at him. "Oh, all right. We'll go to Harry Houdini's grave. I think you have
better luck with ghosts than with the real world, Mulder."

He opened his arms and she fell into his embrace. He was happy to be in his real world again. After
some quiet moments, she pulled back.

"So, what were you dreaming about?" she asked innocently. "Whatever it was, you certainly tossed
and turned enough."

No. There was no way he could tell her. It was all too insane, too unbelievable. Besides, it was a
nightmare he'd rather forget. "Oh, nothing much. A wicked witch came by the house with a poisoned
apple and sent me to hell. You know, the usual Halloween inspired nightmares."

"Well, when you get out of here, I'll make you forget all about them," she promised.

He hoped sincerely she would.

The end.

Latrodectus: black widow spider

Virtual Season's Halloween Special

Latrodectus by Vickie Moseley