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Title: Nightmare on Helm Street
Author: Waddles 52
Summary: An evening of Halloween fun doesn't go as
planned.
Rating: PG13
Category: MT
Disclaimer: No copyright infringement intended. Just
for fun. Not for profit.
Archives: Two weeks exclusively for the VS11
Halloween Special, after that please ask.
Feedback: Sure. Waddles52@insightbb.com
Thanks: To Satchie for her skillful beta and
encouragement.
"Well, we managed to get another expense report in
under the wire," Dana Scully announced as she breezed
into the basement office she shared with her partner.
Fox Mulder looked up and continued to read the
pamphlet in his hands.
Leaning over his back, she read aloud, "Industrial
Nightmare. The mother of all haunted houses.
Guaranteed to make your worst fears a reality. Open
October 3rd through November 2nd, 7-12 PM. Come if
you dare."
Scully couldn't help laughing. "Why are you so
interested in this? Is the haunted house actually
haunted?"
"Not that I'm aware of. The guys went the other
night and said it was awesome."
"Now, that scares me. Are you going to go?"
"Yeah, I'm considering it. What exciting plans do
you have for this Halloween evening?"
"Just the usual Halloween stuff. Hand out candy to
the three or four kids that knock on my door, then
eat the rest of it myself."
"Wanna check out the haunted house with me?"
Scully thought it over for a few seconds. "Why not?
Besides, you'll need someone to hold your hand when
you get scared."
"Yeah, right. It'll probably be the other way
around," Mulder teased.
"Oh yeah? Put your money where your mouth is," she
challenged. "The first one who screams buys dinner."
Mulder stood up and looked down at his petite
partner. "Bring plenty of money because I'm
starving."
"So am I and I want to eat in a nice restaurant. No
take-out, so be sure to stop by an ATM on the way
home," Scully countered.
Mulder grabbed his suit coat from behind his chair
and shrugged into it. "I'm sure I'll be picking out
the restaurant, but I need some money for the weekend
anyway, so I'll hit an ATM just to make you happy."
"So, what time should I be ready?"
"How about seven o'clock?"
"I'll be ready and waiting," she agreed.
"And I'll be there along with my appetite."
Scully picked up her purse and briefcase and Mulder
locked the door. They made their way to the
elevator, each anticipating a free meal.
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At 10 o'clock, Mulder pulled into the parking lot of
the Helm Street Shop and Go and parked in front of
the door. "I'm going to get some aspirin before I
buy your dinner, under protest I might add. My ass
really hurts."
Scully tried very hard to keep her laughter under
control. "Mulder, I'm really sorry the guy with the
chain saw jumped in front of you and made you loose
your balance, but you did scream."
"No, you're not sorry. You just love it when you win
a bet."
"Well, that too," she chuckled.
Out of habit, Mulder surveyed the store before he
left the car. It wasn't crowded, just the cashier
and a customer dressed like Freddy Krueger. "Looks
like he escaped from the haunted house," he thought
as he opened the door and gingerly slid out of his
seat.
Scully had also observed the shopper in the popular
costume. "Do you need me to protect you from big,
bad, Freddy?" she teased.
Mulder leaned back in the door. "Nah, I think I can
handle a guy in a crappy looking costume with plastic
blades on his hand."
"Well, give a shout if you need any help."
Mulder closed the door and limped inside. So far,
the evening hadn't gone as planned, and he knew he
would hear about it for days to come. To top it all
off he felt the beginnings of a headache behind his
eyes. "Happy Halloween," he muttered under his
breath.
He found the aspirin quickly and took his place in
line behind Freddy Krueger, who was purchasing a 12
pack of beer and a carton of cigarettes.
"I'm sorry, mister, but the law says I have to see
some ID before I can sell you this stuff," the
cashier explained.
"I don't need no ID, 'cause you're gonna give it to
me, along with what's in that safe and the cash
register."
"Shit, what's with this guy? He doesn't even have a
weapon." Mulder was tired and sore so he decided to
see how the cashier was going to handle the problem
before he stepped in.
The cashier began edging toward the phone. "Mister,
why don't you just leave and we'll forget this ever
happened. If you don't, I'll have to call the law."
"No cops! Just do what I told you!"
"Okay, this has gone far enough," Mulder interjected.
"I'm a federal agent. Now, you can either do what
the cashier suggested, or I can hold you at gunpoint
and wait for the police to settle this."
"No cops!" the Freddy look alike screamed as he
turned to face Mulder.
Mulder automatically reached for his weapon. In that
split-second, the costumed man stretched out his arm
and raked the blades across Mulder's chest and
stomach. A look of surprise, then pain flashed
across his face. As he looked down he saw the torn
fabric of his shirt, blood quickly turning it
crimson. His legs gave way and he landed hard on his
already bruised ass, then slumped over to rest on his
left side. Mulder's last conscious thoughts were of
the haunted house. Why did he wait in line for an
hour and pay to have a scary experience when he
seemed to encounter enough weirdness on his own?
In the car, Scully had pulled the visor mirror down
to check her lipstick. Deciding that she didn't need
a touch-up, she flipped the visor up just in time to
see the disguised man slash Mulder's chest and
abdomen.
"Son of a bitch!" she screamed, as she pushed her way
out of the car and drew her weapon in one fluid
motion.
The cashier quickly met the robber's demands as
Mulder lay bleeding on the floor. In the meantime,
Scully positioned herself outside the exit, out of
the thief's line of vision.
As the man burst through the door, Scully shouted,
"Federal agent! Put your hands on your head!"
The Freddy look alike waggled his bladed fingers and
took a step toward her.
"Don't come any closer," she ordered. "I will
shoot!"
The robber ignored her and continued to advance,
slashing at her. Knowing she had no other choice,
Scully fired her weapon and watched as the man
dropped to the pavement. Blood began to trickle from
the neat hole in his forehead above his right eye.
Scully knelt beside him and extended a shaking hand
to his neck. Feeling no pulse, she leapt up and
pushed the door open. "Call 911! Get an ambulance
here on the double!"
Before the cashier could punch in the numbers, she
was beside Mulder, checking his pulse. Although very
fast, it was there. She breathed a sigh of relief
and began to survey the damage from the blades.
Mulder's ribs had protected his chest to a certain
extent, but those three, long slashes would require
sutures even though Scully was sure that there wasn't
any major damage. The two cuts across his upper
abdomen were another matter. They were quite deep
and would probably require surgery.
"Help is on the way," the cashier reported, handing
her a first-aid kit. "What can I do to help?"
Scully opened the first-aid kit and found a few gauze
pads and some antibiotic ointment. "Useless! Get me
a package of maxi-pads, super if you have them."
"I'm on it!" he exclaimed, running to the back of the
store.
Scully looked around and spied a stand holding free
publications. She quickly dumped the newspapers out,
and after turning Mulder onto his back, put the stand
under his feet to elevate them.
The movement elicited a moan from her partner. His
eyelids fluttered, then opened, just as Scully was
tearing open the package of maxi-pads that the
cashier had just handed her.
"They're absorbent so they make good bandages," she
explained, anticipating his question. "I have to put
some pressure on those gashes. It might hurt a
little."
"Okay," he agreed, then moaned loudly as she pressed
them firmly on the wounds.
"Sorry, but I need to slow the bleeding down.
You'll do anything to get out of paying up on your
bets won't you?" she teased, hoping to keep his mind
off the pain.
"No, I'll pay up," he gasped as she applied more
pressure to his wounds. "You pick the restaurant.
Anywhere you want."
Scully reached for more pads to replace the ones that
had soaked through. "I intend to pick a very
expensive place, one with plates and silverware
instead of wrappers and paper cups."
"Okay, as long as knives aren't required."
"Well, I'll think it over and let you know later."
Scully breathed a sigh of relief as the ambulance and
police arrived simultaneously.
"Dinner, dancing . . ." Mulder's voice trailed off
as his eyes closed, oblivious to the bustle around
him as the paramedics moved in and took over.
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Mulder's eyes didn't open again until the next day.
He recognized the sounds and smells of a hospital,
then remembered how he came to be there. He took
stock of his situation as his eyes scanned the room.
Several bags of fluid were hanging from the IV pump,
and he observed wires running to a heart monitor. He
was relieved to find that he wasn't intubated, but
was quickly dismayed when he swallowed and felt an NG
tube. He guessed there was a Foley lurking under the
sheets, along with several other tubes that he wasn't
familiar with.
"Yes, partner, you have quite a few tubes and wires
this time," Scully supplied when she noticed him
looking over the medical equipment.
He turned to his left, happy to see her smiling face.
"How bad?" he croaked, wondering why she wasn't
giving him ice chips as she usually did when he
returned to consciousness. He glanced at the bedside
table, hoping to find the plastic pitcher that was
usually standard equipment.
"Sorry, Mulder. Your stomach has to get a little
better before you can have anything to eat or drink.
You had surgery to repair the deepest lacerations,
but you should be able to return to your regular,
disgusting diet as soon as they've healed."
"You okay?" he asked.
"I'm fine. I had to shoot him when he advanced on
me, but he didn't touch me."
Mulder was relieved that she wasn't injured, but he
knew that she would agonize over killing the
assailant. He reached for her hand and squeezed it
gently.
"So, how are you feeling? Are you having much pain?"
"Some," he answered as he tried to find a more
comfortable position.
Suddenly, he gasped and froze, his face contorted in
pain. "Oh, shit!"
"Mulder, what is it?" Scully asked, springing to her
feet in alarm.
"Hurts!" he managed to answer through gritted teeth.
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Later that afternoon, Mulder was back in his room
after a series of exams, x-rays and consultations.
He was resting on his left side, wondering how he
always managed to get hurt without putting any effort
into it. He sighed loudly, causing Scully to look up
from her magazine. "Welcome back partner. You kind
of gave me a scare."
"What happened?"
"After you passed out from the pain, the doctor
ordered a very thorough examination and various
scans. The best we were able to figure, your tumble
at the haunted house and your subsequent fall when
you were slashed caused a fracture to your tailbone.
Since you were unconscious until this morning you
were unable to tell us that there was a problem."
Mulder groaned.
"I'm sorry. You'll be pretty miserable until it
heals."
"I guess I'll live up to Skinner's pet name for me,"
he deadpanned. "A real pain in the ass."
"Well, maybe this will help." Scully grinned as she
presented him with an inflatable ring.
Mulder snorted in disgust.
"Since you'll be tied to your desk for a while,
you'll be able to work rings around everyone else."
Mulder groaned again, more a reaction to the bad pun
than physical pain.
"Next year, Mulder, why don't we just stay at home
and hand out a few pieces of candy? I can fix some
cider, we can make popcorn balls and watch a scary
movie."
"You have a deal." He reached for her hand and gave
it a squeeze. "As long as we don't watch 'Nightmare
On Elm Street'."
Scully squeezed back and leaned over, pushing back
the lock of hair that always seemed to fall across
his fore head. "But I haven't forgotten. You still
owe me a dinner whenever you can sit comfortably."
Mulder smiled and closed his eyes. Even though he
lost the bet, he felt he had come out ahead with the
promise of Scully in his life for another year.
Sometimes losing was worth it.
End
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