Title: Alone
Author: DanaFuchs (danafuchs@hotmail.de)
Rating: G
Category: VA
Spoilers: Season 9
Keywords: Post-Series
Archive: Yes. But let me know where, please.
Feedback: Always! I'm living for it!!
Disclaimer: None of the characters are mine... They belong to Chris Carter, 1013 and Fox. I'm not making any money with this and I'm not making any money anyway, so don't sue me, please... You can however send Mulder over to punish me^^

Summary: A possible opening to the second movie

Author's Notes: I wrote this for a FF Challenge on a German board... and won! The task was to write an opening for the second movie. Everything was allowed, but it shouldn't be NC 17 and it had to be shorter than 1998 words... another rule was to avoid using nouns with "b"... however I couldn't stick to that rule when translating...


"Hello?" screamed the boy into the darkness. No one answered. Slowly he pressed his small hands against the thick oaken door, until it opened enough to allow him to slip through.

Carefully, he padded into the hallway. The cold crept from the tile, covering the floor, into his limps and he pressed the rag doll, he was holding in his arms, closer to him.

An icy wind blew through the long corridor, illuminated only by pale moonlight, falling through the skylights in the high ceiling.

"Hello?" he asked again, entering the big entrance hall. Still no answer. Anxiously, he looked up the elegant stairway.

Hesitantly he placed one hand on the smooth wood of the balustrade. The other hand still clung to his doll.

Suddenly a light illuminated the hall and the boy turned around. Rolling of thunder filled the air. Only now did the boy realize that it was thundering.

A shiver ran down his spine as he carefully set one foot on the fist step of the stairway.

"Hello?" Silence.

The only audible sounds were the patter of rain on the roof and the windows and the soft steps of the child's bare feet on the stair. A new roll of thunder sounded as the boy reached the top of the stairs. A thundercloud swallowed the last bit of moonlight and as he turned around he stared into a dark abyss.

Fear overwhelmed him and he hastily stumbled a few steps back. The doll slid out of his icy fingers. He retreated even more, until he felt the cold stones of the wall in his back.

His knees trembled one last time before giving out completely, so that he sank to the cold tiles. All of a sudden all the tears he had so bravely held back streamed out of his eyes. Sobbing, he pulled his knees as close to his small cold body as possible.

Shivering, he wiped the tears from his cheek with his sleeve, before feeling around for the lost doll in the darkness.

Lighting struck again, the boy closed his eyes and covered his ears, awaiting the rolling thunder. After it had stopped he opened his eyes again.

Surprised, he noticed that it was still light around him.

The darkness had given way to a soft light, emitting immense warmth.

For a brief moment, he closed his eyes again. Greedily, his half-frozen body soaked up the warmth.

Fear seemed to fade along with the cold. His muscles relaxed and he let his head sink onto his shoulder.

He sighed contently and stretched out on the floor.

All of a sudden, the warmth was unbearable. Breathing became difficult. He forced himself to open his eyes.

Fire!

He wanted to scream but he couldn't. Laboriously, he propped up on his hands and crawled away from the heat.

Smoke was burning in his lungs and in his eyes. Blindly, he carefully approached the stairs and pulled himself upright using the balustrade. Coughing, he began his descent.

He had made half of the way, when he stopped abruptly. The doll!

He spun around, covered his face with one hand protectively and felt his way back up with the other one.

His fingers and the flames reached the doll almost at the same time. With a startled scream he let go off the doll again.

Despite fresh tears running down his cheeks, he reached for the doll again and hurled it down the stairs.

As far as he could determine from his position, his treasure appeared to have suffered only little damage, although the left arm of the doll was black as coal.

His assessment of the damage was interrupted by a loud cracking sound.

The wooden beam above his head, carrying the old ruins' ceiling, was on fire and about to come down.

Instinctively, he jumped back a step to protect himself from the crashing debris. In doing so his right foot lost its footing and he fell down the stairs.

He hit the steps hard several times, before finally landing on the tiles next to his doll.

He blinked, hoping the throbbing pain in his limps and his head would subside, but it didn't help.

In pain and tears he reached for his doll. The comforting effect of the beloved item helped to control the panic, welling up inside him. He rolled onto his back, eyes locked onto the meanwhile burning stairway. Slowly he pushed himself off the tiles with his feet and shoved himself in the direction of the door.

With horror he watched the flames licking at the walls and spreading quickly in his direction across the thick wall hangings.

Hectically he jammed the doll under his chin and started to push himself back with his hands, too. After what seemed like forever, his head bumped into something solid. He clutched the doll with his right hand, while pressing himself up with the left.

Hopeful, he stared at the thick oaken door, separating him from safety.

He reached for the knob, pushed and pulled with all his remaining strength. It didn't move a millimetre.

Desperation overwhelmed him. Exhausted, he sank back to the floor. Despite the relentless heat of the fire, his body was shaking. He was crying uninhibited now.

Like torrents tears were streaming down his face, gathered at his chin, where they steadily dripped onto his beloved doll.

The doll was the only thing he owned. The only thing connecting him to his true family.

"A family keep sake," his adoptive mother had told him.

"Mommy!" the boy sobbed in desperation. Again and again. But nobody came.


He was alone.

Scully bolted upright in the hotel bed. Convulsively, her hands clutched the sheets. Her pulse and her breathing were quick. Cold sweat ran down her spine. Shivering, she stared in to the darkness. An arm snaked around her and pulled her toward a strong shoulder.

"Shhh. It's okay, Scully. Only a dream. Everything is fine. Only a dream," he whisperd.

Still shivering, she snuggled closer to him and concentrated on breathing normally again.

"When will this dreams of him stop?" she asked quietly.

The End

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