Beacon (4/6)
Read on AO3 | Tagging @today-in-fic and my poangpal @libbytxf
Malina Knight lives in a ranch house off the state highway that is almost entirely swallowed by the snow-crusted woods that surround it on three sides.
Itâs a rustic place that Mulder might think pleasant enough under normal circumstancesâmaybe a little shabby around the edgesâbut this afternoon, it strikes him as gloomy and forgotten. The trees shut out most direct light, so the walk up the front path, crunchy with hardened snow, is dark and cold.
There is a childâs Batman bike half buried in the snow. Mulder eyes it speculatively a moment before continuing up the walk to knock on the door.
The door cracks open a hair. âWho is it?â
âMs. Knight?â Mulder clears his throat. âThis is Agent Fox Mulder. We spoke on the phone earlier?â
âI remember,â comes the cautious voice.
âI told you I was going to come ask you some questions about your husband Jim. I wonât take very much of your time.â
âJim died,â she says bluntly. âThey said it was his heart.â
âYes, I know,â Mulder says, softening his tone. âAnd Iâm truly sorry about your loss. I just have some questions to ask you that could help other people. If you open the door, I can, uh, show you my badge.â
The door widens at once, and Mulder sees who heâs talking to. Sheâs very thin, the bones in her face visible. Late thirties maybe, long dull blonde hair, unkempt. She looks like she has forgotten how to have feelings.
âItâs okay,â she says flatly. âIâll help you. You donât need to show me anything.â
***
âJim and I met at singles group at church,â Malina says. She lifts a photo off of the end table to show him. âHere we are right after we started dating. Bowling Night. See?â
Mulder politely looks at the photo of Jim Knight with his arm around Malina in better times, lifting brightly colored marbled bowling balls for the camera. âYou look very happy.â
âWe were happy,â breathes Malina. âPeople worried, because there was an age difference. But we were always so happy.â
âAge difference?â Mulder studies the photo of the two of them.
âOnly fourteen years. It bothered some of my friends, but it never bothered me. Because love is more important than numbers. Donât you agree, Agent Mulder?â
Mulder lifts a shoulder noncommittally. âDid the age difference become an issue in your marriage?â
âNo,â Malina says firmly. She looks at the photo in Mulderâs hand and her expression grows less certain. âAt least ⌠I donât think it did.â
âMs. Knight, Iâm sorry to ask this,â Mulder says, watching her carefully, âbut were there any difficulties in your marriage at the time he died?â
Malinaâs lip trembles. âHe needed some time,â she says. âA fishing trip. Some time away, to let us cool off.â
Mulder considers her wording. âHe needed to cool off?â
âJim could have a temper,â Malina says. âBut it wasnât anything serious, not really,â she adds. âHe loved us. I know he did. Everyone could see it.â
Mulder walks to the mantel and picks up a large framed wedding photo. In that photo, Malina, dressed in white, has wrapped her arms around Jimâs neck and is beaming rapturously at him.
âYou have a child?â Mulder says. His eyes roam over the photos on the mantel. Jim holding up a baby in overalls. Malina pregnant. Both of them swinging a toddler. âA son?â
âOur son Lyle,â Malina says, sounding like sheâs behind a glass frame herself. âHeâs seven.â
Mulder listens for a few seconds for any sounds in the house. âWhereâs Lyle now?â
âHeâs at my momâs,â Malina says. âIâŚâ She runs her fingers through her long blonde hair. âWell, Iâm just not in a good place these days, since Jim. My mom is helping me out with Lyle, until I can get my head on straight.â Her eyes dart around anxiously, settling at last on the floor.
Mulder nods, pensively taking in her entire demeanor. She is, heâll admit, not quite what he expected.
âThey told me it was his heart.â Malina looks up with tears like ice shards all over her cheeks. âDo you think that someone killed Jim, Agent Mulder?â she says, her pitch rising. âBecause yeah, our marriage wasnât in great shape. Jim was unhappy. We were hoping to work it out. But I always, always loved him. Iâd never have done something to hurt him. Heâs the love of my life.â
The framed wedding photo is still in Mulderâs hand.
His world suddenly begins collapsing all around him as he sets it down carefully on the mantle.
âI think I understand you,â Mulder manages to say in a strange voice.
Malina loved her husband. Her heart was full of longing.
But it was Jim Knightâs heart that was stopped.
âGood,â Malina says. She wraps her arms around herself, nodding rapidly. âGood.â
Mulder staggers a little backwards, nearly tripping over the coffee table in the process.
Malina squints at him. âAre you okay?â
âI âŚâ Mulderâs mind is flooded with terrible, terrible images, images that make him break out instantly into a cold sweat. âIâm so sorry⌠but I have to go. I need to get back to my hotel. Right now.â
âAre you feeling all right?â
âI realized that⌠it isnâtâŚâ He breaks off, swallowing. âIâll be in touch, Ms. Knight. Thank you.â
***
Heâs walking so fast to the car, trying to dial Scully as he does, that his feet begin to slip under him on the ice. He has to stop and steady himself, extending his hand with his phone out for balance, cursing.
As soon as he can, he smacks the phone back to his ear. Sheâs not answering. âPick up, Scully. Fucking pick up the phone.â
His foot slams on the gas, and he begins to tear too fast on icy country highways back to the Beacon Inn.
Please, he thinks, it might be pathetic, it might be absurd, but sheâs my only light in dark places.
***
By the time he pulls back into the parking spot at the Inn, heâs shaking all over like heâs twelve again, like he never grew into the adult he resembles. He forces himself to be steady, to think clearly.
He rushes through the door, waving a distracted hand at Banoy behind the desk, and he races for the stairs, thumping up two and three at a time.
Thereâs no ghost woman waiting for him in the hall. No living woman either.
âScully,â he shouts. He bangs on her door. âScully,â he calls louder. He realizes he should have asked Banoy for an extra key. If she is in cardiac distress, every second will count. He could have asked Banoy to call for the hospital right away. He tries to remember how to do CPR; he thinks he canâ
Scully, wearing her glasses and holding a stack of papers, opens her door with an amazed expression.
âMulder,â she says calmly, âwhy the hell are you screaming in the hall?â
âScully,â he breathes in relief, his eyes drinking her in. He wants to wrap his arms around her and hold her tight, but he knows he canât, he shouldnât.
âWhatâs wrong with you?â
âIââ He realizes certain limits in what he can say. âWhy werenât you answering your phone?â
She scowls, walking over to the bedside table to pick her phone up. âI guess reception is spotty here,â she says. âI didnât hear your call. Did something ⌠happen?â
Mulder walks inside, his adrenaline still coursing. He feels like he may never be able to stop moving again. He paces a little back and forth to try to burn off his excess tension. âI was wrong,â he says. âDuncan was wrong. It canât be that the ghost is targeting unrequited love. Because Malina Knight? Scully, that lady loved her husband. If anything, it was her love that was unrequited. Her feelings seem like they were stronger.â
Scully backs up to sit on the edge of the bed, giving him a quizzical look. âSo now you think the ghost could be killing people who are the focus of unrequited love?â
âI donât know,â Mulder says, throwing his hands up. His pulse is still racing. âI donât know anything about the other victims.â
âAnd how do you know that Jim Knight wasnât simply in unrequited love with someone else?â Scully says practically. âYou know. With someone besides his wife.â
Mulder stops pacing mid-step.
âYou did ask the wife whether she knew if thereâd been infidelity, right?â Scully says. She looks incredulous at his blank expression. âYou didnât?â
âI didnât have the opportunity to,â he says, rubbing his hand across his mouth. âTo be honest, I got worried and came back fast.â
âWhy?â she says sharply. âWhy did you come back? Did you have some reason to think I might be in danger, too?â
Mulder feels like a caught schoolboy. âNo,â he says quickly. âNo. I came back because until we figure this out, Iâm not sure this inn is safe for anyone. Iâm just getting spooked, I guess.â He swallows. It was a weak save, but she doesnât seem visibly perturbed. He studies her. âAnd everythingâs been⌠as expected here?â
Scully takes a half second too long to answer. âYes.â
Thereâs definitely something off in that answer, but he doesnât dare press more. âWhat have you been doing?â
âIâve been sitting here reading through your historical research,â she says. She points to some books stacked on the bedside table. âAs well as the myth of Hero and Leander, and the famous poem about the myth by Christopher Marlowe.â
ââWho ever loved, who loved not at first sight?ââ Mulder quotes wearily.
âRight,â Scully says, picking up the poetry book with a sniff. âThat line is silly. The poem is interesting. I wonder if Hero was familiar with it.â
âYou donât believe in love at first sight?â
âOh, I might,â she says, flipping idly through the pages. âBut I donât think itâs the only way to love.â
âYeah,â he says, âI think I agree with you about that.â
There is a tense, unbearable pause.
âSo now we have deaths that may or may not be homicides, inflicted by a killer who may or may not be alive, targeting victims who may or may not be experiencing unrequited love,â Scully says, snapping the book shut suddenly.
Mulder walks over to examine the silhouette of the man above her dresser again. He reaches out his finger to trace the craggy outline of the manâs face over the glass. âMaybe Hero is drawn to longing of some kind, some kind of heartache. Maybe it doesnât matter if the person is the subject or object of longing. Maybe it only matters if the person is in her proximity. Maybe itâs the wanting, the unresolved, that draws her.â
When he turns around, Scully looks prim and disapproving, crossing her arms.
âBut what ifââ
Sheâs interrupted by a knock on the door.
***
Scully, her arms still crossed tightly over her chest, purses her lips in dread at the closed door, making no move to get it.
âScully?â Mulder prompts.
âYes.â
She has absolutely no way to explain why she doesnât want to answer the door, for the simple reason that she has no way to tell Mulder what she saw in the hallway before.
Not simply, not casually, anyway. Itâs something she canât easily explain with scientifically plausible language.
A figure that certainly appeared to look at her and beckon to her. There for five seconds, gone the next. A classic ⌠ghost.
Admitting she had seen thisâor that she thought she saw this, anyway, because even now she canât rule out she was misled, deluded, mistakenâseems impossible just to say. Allowing these words to pass through her mouth is a Russian nesting doll of further implications.
Because what would telling Mulder she saw Hero communicate to him, exactly? What would she be tacitly admitting to? That she just deeply wants to see a dead woman because of her sister? That her subconscious hopes to be able to extend her reach beyond death?
Thatâs embarrassing enough, but then there is also what it could imply about her feelings, about a possible imbalance in emotional attachment towards her partner.
When he came rushing in like that, she thought he must have guessed. Itâs the kind of thing he might do, with his frustratingly prescient mind. She thought he might have even guessed why she might see Hero, and rushed back to the Inn to save her from her embarrassing death by unrequited feelings.
But now she doesnât think thatâs the case. Heâs not acting like he really knows anything is different. Heâs just chaotic Mulder, who disappears one moment and shows up unexpectedly the next.
âAre you all right?â he says, staring at her with a quizzical expression.
âSorry,â she says. âYes, of course. Just tired.â
This is silly. You arenât a jumpy teenager at a slumber party.
She forces herself to walk to the door and slowly opens it, steeling herself to see a woman standing there with an impossible lack of opacity, speaking nonsense to her about being her love. Instead, itâs Duncan and Banoy.
âHey,â Duncan says, an expression of curious concern on his face. âWe just wanted to check in. Banoy said Agent Mulder seemed to be experiencing some kind of emergency before?â
âOh, yesâ just a misunderstanding,â Mulder says quickly, walking to the door. âEverythingâs fine now.â
âYouâre sure?â Banoy looks him up and down suspiciously. âI almost called for an ambulance.â
âYes,â Scully says. Her eyes move involuntarily to the space behind Banoy, darting up and down the hallway without thinking.
Duncan notices the direction of her gaze. âAnd you havenât seen anything unusual, Agent Scully?â He raises an eyebrow. âForgive the expression ⌠but you look as though youâve seen a ghost.â
Sheâs keenly aware of Mulderâs eyes on her. âDo I?â Scully says with a tight smile. âIâm afraid Iâm not much of a believer in ghosts.â
Of course she isnât. Not only are they the usual phenomena beyond the reach of science, they fly in the face of her understanding of a loving and omnipotent God. Her God wouldnât let souls be stranded, unhappily plaguing the living.
You know what you saw. And you know you should discuss it with Mulder.
âI see,â Duncan says. âOf course.â
âIâm sorry to worry you,â Mulder says.
âWell, I also wanted to mention that youâd asked about Gary and Pam, the couple that stayed here Halloween and said they saw Hero. I called Pam this afternoon, and she insisted they come up to see you. Said theyâd drop by right after they get off work.â
âThat should be soon,â adds Banoy. âThey work at the ski lodge, and they said theyâd be here before six.â
âOh.â Mulder seems to perk up. âIâm very interested in speaking to them, actually. Maybe we should go downstairs and wait, Scully.â
She nods, twisting her mouth to mask her frustration. She wants to slow down, talk matters through with Mulder, find a way to broach the topic of ghosts in the hallway on her own terms.
âLet me grab a sweater,â she says instead.
***
Gary and Pam Kromkowski are both young, no older than twenty-five, both willowy and athletic. They stand in the lobby of the inn peeling off their coats, matching sky blue with the logo of a nearby ski lodge.
âWe work at Frosty Ridge,â Pam explains to Scully, when she sees her eyeing the logos on the coats. âGaryâs an advanced ski instructor and I do the kidsâ lessons.â
Gary flops onto one of the sofas with colored cushions in the lobby and rolls his head back. âWhew-ee. Weâre pretty worn outâthis is our busy season.â
âWe appreciate you taking the time to come talk to us,â Scully says politely, glancing at Mulder, who is standing next to her, looking unhelpfully dazed.
âOh, we had to,â Gary says earnestly. âAfter we found out you were looking into those people that died.â
âSee, we could have died ourselves,â Pam says, plopping down next to Gary. âWe were so close, werenât we, babe? We said, we have to tell people what happened.â
Mulder looks like he is taking all that theyâre saying extremely seriously. He scrambles to sit down across from the sofa and leans towards them, his forearms on his thighs. âTell me what you mean.â
âThe ghost,â says Gary, lowering his voice and looking around, like he thinks Hero might drift around the corner. He clasps Pamâs hand. âI had the idea it would be fun to spend Halloween here, see. We both like horror movies, so I thought⌠scary creepy old inn, right? Good place for a couple days away.â
âPerfect for Halloween,â Pam agrees.
âOkay,â Mulder says. He seems to be thinking something over. âAnd you two were ⌠dating? Together?â
The couple looks at one another slyly. âWell, yes and no,â Pam says. âWe were⌠uhhhhâŚâ She giggles. âWe were fucking around. But we hadnât, like, had the talk, right?â
âRight,â Mulder says seriously, like he is considering and absorbing that concept. Scully wonders if Mulder has ever had âthe talkâ with a woman.
âSo she goes downstairs to get our food,â Gary says, âand I am coming out of the shower, and holy shit, thereâs a lady standing in our room. Not standing, floating. A ghost. Like, an actual ghost you can see through.â
âHmm,â Mulder says, nodding. âWhat did the ghost do? Did she say anything?â
âShe kinda stood there in her old-fashioned dress and she said⌠what was it, babe? âCome on, I love you,â all that creepy shit,â Gary says. âPam knows because she saw her, too, like five minutes later.â
âI saw her in the hallway,â Pam says. âI was bringing up our food, Chinese. And when I get upstairs to go in our room, what do I see?â
âGhost,â Gary jumps in emphatically.
âA fucking ghost,â agrees Pam. âAnd yeah, I admit I was scared. We didnât think this was real.â
Mulder nods again thoughtfully.
âSo Pam came back into the room. And she was completely freaking out, and I was completely freaking out,â Gary says. He looks Pam in the eyes, speaking affectionately. âWe had to calm each other down.â
âWhat had you heard about the ghost before this?â Scully says, trying to get to the point.
âWell, we knew she was the love ghost,â Pam says. âWe knew you had to, like, have feelings to see her. Everyone knows that around here.â
Gary runs his finger down Pamâs cheek tenderly. âSo it kind of spilled the beans, and we told one another how we felt that night, once and for all. Got it all out in the open.â He lowers his voice. âAnd I asked her to marry me.â
He leans forward and kisses Pam enthusiastically, practically shoving his tongue down her throat. It quickly devolves into somewhat uncomfortable intimacy, hands crawling aggressively over ski pants. Mulder clears his throat, and Scully averts her eyes. She wonders wistfully when she got cast in the role of maiden aunt.
âSo,â Mulder says as they break apart at last, âdo you have any idea why you werenât killed like the others?â
âI think itâs because our love was pure,â Pam says, still gazing at Gary. âBecause she could tell weâre soulmates.â
âAh,â Mulder says with a barely-contained sarcastic edge. âThat could be it.â Scully notes his jaw muscle is tense. âYou never saw Hero again after that?
âNope,â Gary says. âThat was all. We got married a month later, and now weâre newlyweds.â
âCongratulations,â Scully says formally.
âWe just wanted to tell you,â Pam says proudly. âIn case our story was important. Other people might want to protect themselves.â She leans back towards Gary, tilting her head invitingly. âWith the power of love.â He takes the bait and presses his lips to hers, sloppily kissing her again.
Scully holds herself back from rolling her eyes. âWe appreciate your assistance,â she says loudly. âIâm sure youâre very tiredââ
âPam, before you saw the ghost,â Mulder interrupts as the couple pulls apart, âyou experienced ⌠some kind of longing for Gary? And you for Pam, Gary? Would you say thatâs accurate?â
Pam smirks. âLonging, sure,â she says. âIf thatâs what you wanna call it.â She giggles a little again, running her hands up Garyâs chest.
âIâve got something longing for you right here, babe,â Gary growls playfully in a low voice.
âThank you for your time,â Scully says, very weary of this, walking towards the door. âWeâre grateful for your help.â
Even if itâs no help at all, she thinks darkly. She isnât sure these two even saw the ghost. Like Duncan, she is suspicious that this is a little too good of a proposal story.
Mulder has apparently been deep in thought, staring steadily across the room, and looks vaguely surprised to see that the Kromkowskis are leaving. âOh yeah ⌠thank you,â he says vaguely, still staring. âHappy holidays.â
He doesnât stand to walk them out, flopping back instead in the chair he is sitting in. Scully feels another twinge of irritation as she leaves him to his sprawl.
***
It feels like heâs losing his mind. One second he is sitting here talking to the Kromkowskis, and the next moment, he spots her out of the corner of his eye. Staring at him, silently, across the room.
Hero doesnât say a word this time or move a transparent muscle. She only stands tall and straight, her expression something between judgmental and sorrowful. Mulder can do nothing but let his attention be completely distracted. He can do nothing but stare back at her in shock.
The Kromkowskis donât see her, and they are sitting where they would have, if she were visible to them. It seems clear their vulnerability to ghostly murder was cured by eliminating their longing. How lucky can you be, he thinks, to have the yearning of your heart satisfied like that. Do the Kromkowskis even understand their good fortune? What happened to them was something that was probably not possible in the other cases. Itâs certainly not possible in his own.
Of course Scully doesnât seem aware of Heroâs presence either, although she doesnât ever turn that direction. Maybe the best he can hope for from any of this is that itâs only him who dies.
Itâs funny, he thinks, that he started this case hoping that she wouldnât quit, and now heâs just happy if she survives him.
As he slumps in his seat in despair, his gaze irrevocably held by the strange countenance of a dead woman, he begins to hear something. Or so he thinks. He listens hard. A hushed roar in the distance, rising and falling. He pays close attention, but he canât decide if itâs really there or if itâs his own troubled imagination.
The Kromkowskis leave, and Scully walks back to him, her mouth pinched in annoyance. He sits up and forces himself to look at her.
âDo you hear something, Scully?â he says, trying to sound nonchalant.
She tilts her head and listens, scowling. âNo,â she says. âWhat do you hear?â
When he glances anxiously back across the room again, Hero is gone. The rushing sound has vanished.
***




















