Title: Elevator Music Author: Char Chaffin alaska_1013@hotmail.com Category: MSR, Humor Rating: PG-13 Spoilers: Negatory! Disclaimer: They like playing in my yard, CC - I'll send them home when it gets dark, though - THANKS TO: My writing partner and 'Sis' T Bishop, for beta, for laughing and for approving - Summary: A haunted elevator? Maybe... maybe not. ~*~*~*~*~*~ The SmithPorte Inn had to have the absolute slowest elevator in the entire world, Scully decided, as she and Mulder waited for it to crawl down from the tenth floor, and pick them up. Beside her Mulder tapped his foot impatiently, and grumbled, "We should just take the blasted stairs, you know." She glanced at him briefly and smiled; thinking what a kid he could be sometimes. She had always considered herself a patient person; who needed to rush around anyway? It was Saturday, they were off work and they were only checking out the hotel as a favor to the owner, who was a friend of Scully's mother. She smiled again and replied, as if talking to a child - which, in effect, at that moment - he was. "Mulder, the whole point of being here today is to check out the elevator, which as the hotel claims, has some sort of poltergeist living in it. Now I'd be the first one to laugh in Mr. Elvey's face, even if he IS a dear friend of my mother's... but I promised him, and you agreed - no that's not exactly right - you BEGGED to be allowed to come along, then you insulted me by inferring that I wouldn't know a poltergeist if it 'reared up and bit me on the ass', I believe were your precise words." She bared her teeth at him in a falsely-sweet parody of a smile, and turned her attention back to the elevator. It continued to inch its way down to the lobby; now it was on four. Mulder sighed in a dramatic suffering gust of sunflower-flavored breath, and continued to tap. He reached up to loosen his tie, then remembered he wasn't wearing one. Both of them dressed casually, for a change - thank God. He opted instead for scratching at an itchy spot on his back; waiting around always made him feel buggy. He couldn't reach the damned itch; he twisted to and fro, muttering to himself. Scully bit back a chuckle and slapped his hand away, then scratched at the offending spot herself, finally letting the chuckle spill out as he sighed and moaned and just about melted all over her hand. "Oohh, Scully... that feels soooo good... lower, and to the left... no, lower than that, and maybe more around to the front..." He peeked at her over his shoulder, absurdly tickled that her hand had actually started to go in that direction before she realized that it would have ended up at button-fly level. Scully snatched her hand away and gave him a push, knocking him into the wall. She shook her head and turned back to the elevator, a demure look on her face. The stupid thing creaked downward; now on two. Mulder's hand found the tender spot on the back of her neck under her soft hair, and he rubbed at it lightly, leaning over to whisper in her ear, "Thanks, Scully." She stared straight ahead, knowing that it would take nothing at all to encourage him. Mulder was in a playful mood on a Saturday morning, and she just knew she was in for it - and she also knew she was going to enjoy it. "So, what's the story on this old creaking thing?" Mulder watched the old-fashioned lever as it moved along in an elegant arch; the brass pointer as sluggish as molasses. Actually, the 'old creaking thing' was quite beautiful, and he fully understood the owner's passion about keeping as much of the original furnishings and architecture intact. They just didn't build 'em like this anymore, which was a real shame. Scully ran an appreciative hand along the silk wallpaper nearest them, and thought for a moment before she replied. "Well, Mom says that there have been reports of elevator music, at all hours of the day and night. Normally it wouldn't be such a big deal - except this hotel doesn't have a canned music system. So I guess you could say the music is a bit unnerving to the hotel's guests." Mulder shook his head in mock-disgust, as he examined the surrounding walls and high ceiling. "Sounds like a case of unappreciative music-haters to me - which I suppose I could understand, if said music was something truly awful, such as some cheesy version of 'Tie A Yellow Ribbon'." Scully snorted. "Mulder, all versions of 'Tie A Yellow Ribbon' are cheesy..." His indignant huff echoed in the empty corridor. "Hey - Liberace did it up right, okay? Don't be putting slurs on my main man." He pushed at the wall nearest the elevator doors; solid and unyielding. Nothing out of the ordinary. Phantom elevator music... good grief. Only in America, he thought, grinning down at Scully, who returned his grin with resigned affection, still trying to reconcile Liberace doing a cover of Tony Orlando and Dawn. The elevator finally arrived and the old, cast-iron doors opened; Mulder guided her inside and they both stepped to the rear. The doors were already closing when Mulder spotted an elderly woman trying to rush toward them, hoping to make it before they shut completely. He put out a hasty hand and held the doors open, and the woman managed to get on safely. The doors closed and the elevator began to move, creeping at its usual snail's pace. Both Mulder and Scully smiled at the woman, who looked them over as if they were dirt beneath her expensively-manicured fingernails; her eyes snapping in disapproval at their faded jeans and casual shirts. She was expensively dressed and perfectly coiffed; it was apparent this was a very well-tended, wealthy woman. An impolite one, however; a snooty and bitchy one, too - for she hadn't even thanked Mulder for holding the elevator for her. Scully's eyebrows shot up in reaction to the superior look she'd tossed at them, right before she about-faced and punched the tenth-floor button. Mulder duly noted the woman's stiff back and precisely erect carriage. She stood turned away from them, as close to the doors as she could get; apparently one or more cooties might actually jump out of their casual clothing and attack her Chanel suit. The old biddy's ridiculous disdain, combined with her equally snobbish behavior, caused a very slow, very wicked smile to spread across Mulder's handsome face... a smile he turned on Scully, who blanched as soon as she saw it. Oh, no... God, not here. He wouldn't. She'd kill him, she really would - that smile was a dead giveaway. She remembered the last time she'd seen that look on his face; God, how could she forget? At Skinner's surprise birthday party, in his office - they'd been hard at it, blowing up balloons and taping them to every available surface; even stuffing some of them underneath his desk; which was where Mulder had decided to cop a feel... and Scully had told him to stop... and Mulder's smile had gotten very wide and evil, just as the door had opened, and Skinner had come in, back early from a meeting - finding himself attacked by balloons galore. His narrowed eyes had zeroed in on Scully, sitting behind his desk in mid balloon-blow-up... with a brat of a partner underneath Skinner's desk, tugging on her pantyhose with his teeth. How she'd gotten out of there in one piece was still a mystery to her, and she'd really let Mulder have it, after which he'd let her have it right back. She still trembled whenever she thought about how he'd let her have it... And it looked as if she was in for it again - because Mulder was moving toward her, there in the elevator; sidling closer and closer - and Scully sent him a ferocious frown and shook her head, mouthing at him, 'Don't you DARE', and he was grinning from ear to ear. Old Rich Bitch Lady still had her stiff back turned to them, and Scully's eyes slid from her to Mulder and back again; Mulder was still advancing and his entire face glowed with mischief. Scully found herself putting out a hand, trying to stave him off; Mulder swatted it away and moved even closer. Closer... he now had her pinned against the corner of the elevator; all accomplished in such utter silence that the other occupant hadn't a clue of what was going on behind her proper little Chanel-covered back. Scully looked up, into Mulder's devilish eyes, and mouthed one last, desperate, 'No, NO!'... and Mulder mouthed right back at her, 'Yes, YES!'... then his mouth opened and he cleared his throat softly... and as the elevator continued to plod very slowly between the fifth and sixth floors, Scully felt herself actually cringing, expecting the worst... and in a masculine, yet petulant Mulder-growl, her partner let fly. "I thought we agreed that when Mom and Dad finally croaked, we'd sell that damn mausoleum of a house and split the money! Well they're finally gone, Sis - and you'll have to remember to thank Aunt Mary for the strychnine..." Scully's eyes got huge with shock, and yet it was all she could do not to laugh - because out of the corner of one widened eye she could see the Chanel lady stiffen, and almost cock her head toward them as if to better hear the insane conversation. And Mulder must have seen it too, because he turned back to Scully, and pushed his face right up to hers, and added, "And I won't live there anymore with you, Dear Sister... not unless you promise me that if we have to share the house we can share a bed as well..." And before Scully could spit out the gasp brewing in her throat, Mulder had her bent over his arm - and his mouth was covering hers in a passionate, wet, noisy kiss. Kissing her about senseless; making the most absurd moaning and smacking sounds against her mouth - eyes open and gazing down into hers with perverse glee... until she met the kiss with a fiercely hot little tongue of her own, and his carefully-choreographed passion erupted, for real. His eyes flickered shut and he tugged her closer, the tenor of their kiss changing from silly to scorching in about one second flat. Scully heard herself whimpering, above the sudden roaring in her ears; Mulder's tongue sweeping the inside of her mouth and stabbing alongside her teeth. She couldn't breathe, couldn't think; but she sure could hear - and the huge gasp their elevator companion sent their way was absolutely killing her, for she suddenly needed to laugh out loud, a belly-laugh from Hell - and Mulder wasn't letting up on her. Oh God, she was going to keel over from it; pass out from the hilarity and the heat of it, right here in his arms; she had to BREATHE - so she did the only thing she could think of: she bit Mulder on the lip, hard. And almost drew blood. Her hands had been pushing against his shoulders all this time, with futile intent; but as soon as he felt her biting him he let go, and they both gulped in much-needed oxygen. Mulder's hot gaze almost seared the skin from her face, as he took in the sight of Dana Scully in heat - embarrassed but gorgeous, and very turned-on. He could tell... could feel it, trembling against him. And he just had to see the look on the Chanel-lady's face. He had to. He looked up, directly at her - And almost fell over in hysteria, right on Scully, still bent over his arm like some bad Astaire/Rogers tango... for that old biddy was pressed up against the doors of the still-moving elevator, and her utterly shocked, repulsed and generally green-with-horror face was the funniest thing he'd seen in a very long time. She opened her mouth, perhaps to scream; maybe to just yell at them and call them incestuous pigs, Mulder was never sure - because as she opened wide her thin, prissy lips... her dentures fell out, and clattered to the floor. And Mulder lost it. And Scully joined him. And they both slid to the floor in a heap of rubbery arms and legs, screeching with it; laughing themselves silly - as the poor woman, humiliated and still gagging in revulsion, grabbed at her traitorous dentures and shoved them into her handbag; she inhaled a big gust of air, puffing herself up in a self-righteous attitude of piousness, and screamed in a thin, high, shrill toothless voice, "DISGUSTING! DISGRACEFUL! ANIMALS! I NEVER... I'M CALLING THE POLICE! MERCIFUL HEAVENS...!!!" Almost hyperventilating; additional appropriately nasty words failing her, she turned back to the door; pounding on it with both hands; as if hitting it would make the old cast-iron cage crawl to the tenth floor any faster. Luck was with her though - for it magically wheezed to a stop, and opened up onto the eighth floor, and she tore out of there almost before the doors fully opened. Her clattering heels, and her offended shrieks, could be heard all the way down the long empty corridor... Somewhere between choking laughter and residual passion, Scully decided she was having a great Saturday morning. She was still tangled up within Mulder's long arms and legs, and she pushed at him weakly. He was hopeless; couldn't stop shouting with mirth. He'd stop and gulp, trying to get himself under control... then a mental image of the old lady standing there with the dentures falling out of her mouth, would float in front of his streaming eyes... and he'd lose it afresh. By the time their giggles and snorts finally calmed down, both agents were clutching their aching sides. Scully scraped damp hair out of her eyes and wiped at them, thinking she wasn't quite ready to stand up yet. She leaned against the elevator wall and regarded Mulder's still-red face. Mulder propped his back against the same wall and tried to conquer his hiccups, which he always developed after bouts of hard laughing. She slapped him on the back and ordered him to hold his breath, while she fought to regain some sense of equilibrium. "Shit, Mulder... you scarred that old lady for life. She'll probably never be able to stomach being around any of her sibling grandchildren, thanks to you!" Scully shook her head and managed to bring herself up to her knees, before Mulder's hand shot out and yanked her back down against him again. She fell on his chest and he immediately wound his arms around her, imprisoning her there. She struggled half-heartedly, still lacking any sort of decent strength; liking it just fine right where she was, though she frowned severely at him. He ignored her frown and stole a fast kiss or two, before answering her in a voice shaky from laughing. "She deserved it Scully, for the hoity-toity way she acted. I would like to have shown her a hell of a lot more... but her teeth falling out sort of killed the moment." He squeezed her with enthusiasm, smiling brilliantly at her when she sighed in resignation and squeezed him back. She stared down at him, thinking how wonderful he looked at this moment; how relaxed. How young and happy - and she loved him when he was young and happy. Scully decided she'd endure just about anything to keep her partner in that condition - even if it meant rolling around on a prehistoric elevator floor, shocking the shit out of old ladies and causing entire gaggles of dentures to vacate the premises. But for now, they still had a job (of sorts) to do - and her sides hurt and her elbows were dirty from pressing them into the floor. She leaned into him and placed a soft kiss at the corner of his mouth, and began to wriggle out of his embrace. "Okay, you're right; she deserved it. And you got her but good. Now, let me up and let's get this investigation finished..." Her voice petered out as his arms tightened against her squirming attempt, and he shook his head decisively. "Nope - don't wanna." He clutched at her more firmly, and she huffed a bit, knowing her impish partner wasn't through playing yet... but also resigning herself to cutting him off before they both got into trouble. "Mulder, come on; stop goofing around! Do you know how much time we've spent in this stupid elevator? It's now appeared to have died on us, here on the eighth floor; while we were laughing it up the doors closed, and I have a feeling we're stuck - and we still don't have any sort of sane answer for Mr. Elvey..." No sooner had the words left her mouth, than the faint strains of as-yet unidentifiable music wafted through the old air-vents along the ceiling. Something tinny and familiar; something downright spooky-sounding... and Mulder could feel the short hairs on the back of his neck actually raise up, as he turned an open-mouthed look of amazement on Scully - only to find her staring at him with the same expression. The music was ghostly in its melody; they both shuddered, goosebumps breaking out on their arms. She scooted closer to Mulder and he held her with hands gone clammy. She whispered in his ear. "Do you recognize the song?" He shook his head and strained to listen, not able to catch more than a snippet or two of the haunting tune. "No, I can't get enough of it to tell... something very old, perhaps? This hotel is about one hundred years old; I suppose in all those years at least one murder could have been committed in this elevator. Probably the ghost of some old turn-of-the-century biddy who gave her husband a hard time when he wanted to bop her between floors..." Scully choked out a strangled laugh, still creeped-out by the music. "As always, Mulder, you manage to find a way to break the tension. We've got to get to the bottom of this." She pushed herself to her feet unsteadily; Mulder finally letting go, intrigued by the solid evidence which seemed to be presenting itself to the both of them. Scully slid her hands around the smooth polished wood of the inner walls, not quite knowing what she was looking for. Aside from the strains of music coming through the vents, no other sound could be heard. She pressed all the floor buttons; nothing. The elevator was truly dead, so to speak. She cupped her hands around her mouth and called toward the ceiling, "HEY! Anybody up there? Can anyone hear us? We're stuck in here!" Nothing; just the music. Mulder scrambled to his feet and banged hard on the doors; again, nothing but music answering back. He sighed, and rubbed at his face, then grinned at Scully; she had a smear of dirt on her cheek and her lips were still reddened from his kiss. He caught at her hand and linked fingers with her, swinging it like a love-struck little boy. "Hey, Scully... wanna dance?" She gawked at him, a bit off-balance by his sudden switch from serious FBI agent to cute boyfriend. Mulder never failed to surprise her with his mercurial moods. It kept her on her toes, but sometimes played havoc with her nervous system. She looked down at his warm hand, holding hers; looked up, and caught more of that same warmth in his sparkling eyes. She loved it when he flirted with her; she always pretended to despair of his foolishness, but she loved it - because it gave her an excuse to act silly as well. And she was just conservative enough to need an excuse, most of the time. Oh, Mulder was slowly working his magic on her, loosening her up... but she'd had many more years of being a serious little thing, and not nearly enough time just being Mulder's girl. The nickname made her smile, as she tugged on his hand, and pulled him closer; extending that smile to encompass him and keep him warm. Mulder's girl... she liked it. Pressing up against him, Scully fit her head comfortably in the crook of his shoulder, and sighed into his ear. "I'd love to dance, Mulder... even though we really should be trying to figure out how on earth that music is finding its way in here." Mulder dropped a soft kiss on top of her bright hair, and murmured as he slowly moved her in a tight circle within the confines of the small elevator. "We ARE trying to find out the source. I'm listening, attempting to discover what piece of music that is... so I can ask the jockey spinning the platter to play it again - I think it's beginning to grow on me." He folded her even closer, adoring the feel of her against him; all soft well-worn jeans and an equally soft sweatshirt. So cuddly... so warm... so... Scully. And he suddenly could have cared less about a dumb poltergeist in the walls of this antique elevator. At least, that's what he told himself - two seconds before the lights went out - and the sound of a male voice, screaming in pain, made them both jump about a foot. "NO, NO, NO, NO OH GOD NOT THAT...!!" This accompanied by a loud, tinny clunking sound, as if someone had dropped a heavy metal object. Scully gasped and clutched at Mulder, who had paled at the tinny, ghostly screech. He grabbed for his gun, for once thankful that he'd thought to bring it. Old habits die hard - thank God. He held it in both hands, and circled the box slowly, while Scully re-checked the walls. The scream had cut off abruptly, while a series of clanks and scraping noises chimed in, closer and louder. And in the black inky box, neither of them could see a thing. Of course an old hotel like this one would not have an emergency power backup, especially in the elevator... "Mulder, what the hell is going on!" Scully was beginning to feel the effects of being trapped in a small confined space. Ridiculous, since as a child she'd loved to crawl into her grandmother's bedroom closet and sit in the dark, trying on her shoes. But this was an altogether different feeling, than sitting in a dark closet surrounded by familiar clothes which smelled of lilac water; this was really beginning to bother her. She flung out a hand, barely able to make out Mulder's shape; the ceiling vents afforded the barest trickle of light. Her arm popped him right in the stomach; he let out a surprised grunt, and caught at her hand before she could do any more damage. He squeezed it and whispered to her. "Hold still, Scully - I think I hear something." They both strained their ears; finally catching the music again; that same tune... wait, not music, more like whistling. That was it; off-key, faint whistling which sounded as if it was making a go at following the notes of the song. Mulder scuttled close to her and put his mouth to her ear. "Jesus... I think I finally recognize the music; and it makes perfect sense, Scully..." He broke off, listening some more; the silence between them lengthening until Scully couldn't take it any more, and growled at him in frustration. "Well? What the hell IS it, Mulder?" Silence again; then she felt Mulder move even closer, until she sensed him right in her face; his breath fanned her cheeks as he sang the mystery tune to her, slowly. 'In the cool of the evening when everything is getting kinda groovy... I call you up and ask you if you'd like to go with me and see a movie...' He paused, and waited. Not for long, though... "Mulder! You are so, so DEAD!!!!!" After another half hour of cooling their heels in the stuffy elevator, Mulder and Scully were finally released. The maintenance man, a Mr. Penrod, had climbed down the main box cable and had pried open the ceiling vents, rather like opening up a tin can. Mulder had lifted Scully on his shoulders, then Penrod had reached down into the box and had managed to grasp Mulder's hands and pull him up. Apologizing profusely for taking so long to get to them, he'd explained that he'd been testing some of the wiring in the shaft itself, never dreaming that anyone was using it. "I thought I'd cut off the actual circuit; took me the longest time to discover I'd really knocked out the power to the men's bathrooms on the first floor! I'm sorry, folks - hope you weren't too uncomfortable there in the dark. These old elevators are lovely, to be sure - but a bear to work on. I keep telling Mr. Elvey he needs to do a major overhaul, but the boss is partial to the antiquity of the old place. I can relate to it, I suppose." He smiled sheepishly at Scully and she found herself returning it; then she glanced up at Mulder and replied softly. "It was fine, Mr. Penrod; in fact, we rather enjoyed it. But can you please enlighten us concerning the source of that odd music we heard, coming down through the vents? You know Mr. Elvey thinks this elevator is haunted, don't you? Supposedly one can hear music playing, when there's no canned music anywhere in the hotel." The sudden pink in Penrod's chubby cheeks caused her eyebrows to twitch, and she looked up at Mulder with dawning realization. He eyed Penrod's blushing face and suppressed a chuckle. "You're the source of the ghostly music, aren't you?" The older man nodded, and got even redder. He reached into the cavernous pocket of his overalls and pulled out a small cassette player; then from another pocket fished out a destroyed cassette tape, smashed to a pulp. "I dropped my oversize cable cutters on it; and just about broke my toe, not to mention my heart. My daughter recorded this for me and gave it to me last year. My favorite group, too... ever hear of the Classics IV? Always liked their stuff... and I dropped the tape as I was juggling the cutters and the damned recorder; tried to hang onto both, and then dropped the cutter as well. It fell on the tape and smashed it. I was really upset. Guess you could hear me screeching and yelling, huh?" Mulder nodded, and held out his hand for the tape; Penrod gave it to him, and watched as Mulder read the label, just barely able to make out the list of songs. He frowned at it, and raised his head, staring at Penrod curiously. "You only have one song recorded on this tape? Don't tell me... you have it recorded over and over again." The other man nodded, pink-cheeked again. "I know you think I'm probably nuts... but that was my late wife's favorite song, and well... we got engaged on Oct. 31; guess it sort of became our song." At the mystified look on Scully's face, Mulder smiled, then leaned over and sang the last few lines of the song into her ear. 'If you decide someday to stop this little game that you are playing, I'm gonna tell you all of what my heart's been a-dyin to be saying - Just like a ghost you've been haunting my dreams, so I'll propose On Halloween...' And smiling in sudden understanding, Scully supplied the final line. 'Love is kinda crazy with a Spooky little girl like you.' Mulder nodded, and caught Scully around the waist, hugging her. She hugged back, and then faced Penrod, still smiling gently. "How often did you play your tape, Mr. Penrod? Every time you had to work on the elevator?" At his nod, her smile got bigger, and she glanced up at Mulder, noting he'd also figured it out. "And with an elevator this old, you probably had to come in here at any given hour of the day or evening, right?" "Oh, yes Ma'am - I'm on call twenty-four hours a day. I don't mind it, not really - what else am I gonna do with my time?" She nodded again, and gave Mulder another squeeze, suddenly feeling like the luckiest lady in the world. "And you always play your song; yours and your wife's. I understand now - and I think we've found our poltergeist." Mystery solved; an easy one, for a change. All par for the course on a Saturday... well, it sure beat watching cartoons. They shook Penrod's hand and thanked him again for the rescue; then climbed the shaft ladder up to the service panel closest to the ninth floor, and pulled themselves out. They parted company in the quiet corridor; Penrod whistling off-key under his breath, the refrain of his favorite song - and Mulder turned, and called out to him. "Mr. Penrod... I have a copy of that song, on a 'Greatest Hits' album. If you have a way to record it I'd be glad to give you the album." The smile on Penrod's face was a sight to see... he nodded eagerly and thanked him. As he walked away, Scully turned and caught Mulder around the neck with her arms, and kissed him soundly. He pulled her into his embrace and returned her kiss with enthusiasm, lips and tongue stroking her so gently and tenderly - then he pulled away and regarded her with such a look of yearning that it took her breath. He kissed her again, on the tip of her straight little nose, then waltzed her down the empty corridor, humming under his breath. Herding her toward the stairwell; not letting go, still dancing; she laughed as they tango'd through the door and cha-cha'd down the stairs. Above the muffled stomp of their shoes on the cement steps, Scully voiced her approval. "That was a very nice thing to do for Mr. Penrod, Mulder." In front of her, three steps down, Mulder turned and grinned at her. "I'm a very nice guy, Scully, regardless of what that old nasty biddy in the tacky suit may have thought - and are you just finding this out?" She shook her head and held out her arms, inviting him to swing her off the steps and into his embrace; an invitation which he willingly accepted. She pressed her face close to his, and met his loving gaze head-on. "I always knew that about you, Mulder - why else would I have given you the time of day?" He nuzzled her neck, making her shiver. "Maybe because I asked you what time of day it was, and you were kind enough to tell me?" "Shut up, Mulder." end AUTHOR'S NOTE: Why "Spooky"? Honestly, I don't know. Sometimes my Muse goes off on her own and doesn't tell me until much later! I guess if an elevator had to be haunted with phantom music, then it may as well be "Spooky". Anything would be better than the Muzak version of "Tie A Yellow Ribbon"... Feedback is always in style, at: alaska_1013@hotmail.com, or char@chaffin.com Please visit my web site, at http://char.chaffin.com ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ 'Believe the Words...' http://char.chaffin.com alaska_1013@hotmail.com The Gossamer Project Author - Title - Date - Spoilers - Crossovers - X-Files - Adventures - Stories - Vignettes DownloadOther stories by Chaffin, Char Please let us know if the site is not working properly. Set story display preferences. Do not archive stories elsewhere without permission from the author(s). See the Gossamer policies for more information.