Through the Looking Glass
by Lovesfox

Headers in Prologue


Part 1

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
Diary of Liza MacGregor
April 10, 1872

I have been scorned.  

John has forsaken me for another woman, one younger and far 
fairer of face than I.  She is a newcomer to our town, delicate 
and fragile and beautiful, all that I am not.  He has broken our 
betrothal, arranged since we were in the cradle, saying he has 
sworn himself to Rose Daniels now.  

Though I tried to remain nonchalant, I could not help but say to 
him that beauty alone did not a good union make.  He laughed at 
me, and said to me that my jealousy of Rose was unbecoming, and 
that his happiness should be paramount.  I wanted to ask him how 
I could be happy when my heart has broken.

Their wedding date has already been set.

I vow that I shall not attend.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*


Present Day


Dana Scully's Apartment
Georgetown, D.C.
Friday, May 20, 2000
6:20 PM


Dana Scully sank back into the bubbles with a weary sigh, her 
head resting on the edge of her tub, hair pinned up loosely.  
Small tendrils were already curling moistly around her face from 
the heat of the water.

The night was still young, but she did not care.  She had been 
looking forward to relaxing in a long bubble bath all day.  For 
some reason this particular Friday had seemed to take forever to 
end, from the snarl of traffic that resulted from an early 
morning accident on her way to the J. Edgar Hoover Building that 
morning, to the endless paperwork she and Mulder had struggled 
through.  

After locking her door, she had immediately headed to her bathroom 
to run the tub, and then gone to her bedroom to undress, leaving 
her clothes lying in a heap on the floor.

Slowly, the muscles of her body relaxed, and her eyes slipped 
closed.  Faint strains of music from the CD she had put on her 
stereo drifted down the hallway. She hummed along lightly, 
enjoying the melody. Lazily, she lifted one leg out of the water 
and stroked her toes up and down the other leg, enjoying the 
slick feel of the bubbles on her skin.  A nice glass of wine 
would have been the perfect accompaniment, she mused. 

Unfortunately she had forgotten that she had finished the bottle 
of Merlot last weekend, and had not picked up another one.

On the other hand, it was just as well, she thought.  The way she 
felt right then, one glass would have her asleep in minutes.  She 
shifted slightly in the tub, one knee poking up through the 
bubbles.

The sudden, shrill ring of her cellular phone disturbed the 
peacefulness of the moment, and Scully mentally berated herself 
for even bringing the damn thing in the bathroom with her.  

Briefly, she contemplated not answering; almost positive it was 
Mulder, and then sighed, knowing the chances were good that if 
she did not pick up the phone, he would come over.  She also 
knew, if she had not brought it in with her, she probably would 
have struggled out of the tub and run dripping to answer it.

Sitting up slowly, shivering as the cooler air brushed over her 
exposed shoulders, she reached for the phone, which was sitting 
on the folded towel on the toilet.  Pressing send, she said, 
"Scully."

"Hey, Scully.  I didn't catch you at a bad time, did I?"  

Mulder's voice was cheerful, with not a hint of contriteness 
detectable.  He did not allow her to answer, but merely continued 
on.  "Got any plans this weekend?"

Scully sighed again, allowing herself to sink back down into the 
water, the elbow of her arm that held the phone propped on the 
rim of the tub.  There was a slight sloshing sound as she did so, 
and she stilled, hoping Mulder had not heard.

The hope was futile; her partner had ears like a bat.  

"Scully, whatcha doin?" he asked, his voice suddenly an octave 
lower.  There was a pause, and then, "Are you taking a bath, 
Scully?"

Scully nearly groaned.  "Yes, Mulder, I'm taking a bath."  She 
closed her eyes as the other end went silent.  She could just 
imagine the lines he was trying out in his mind.  A part of her 
wanted to hear them, to feel a thrill from the images that were 
occasionally a result of his come-ons.

Reclining on his couch in his apartment across town, Mulder 
stopped talking as his very active mind provided him with a 
picture of his partner, wet and naked in her tub.  In a bubble 
bath, he knew Scully loved bubble baths.  Her red hair was pinned 
up haphazardly, with those little curls that looked so sexy 
around her face, her white skin dewy and surrounded by bubbles.  
Bubbles that were rapidly evaporating, revealing tantalizing 
glimpses of more skin.  He swallowed thickly, feeling very warm.

"Mulder?"

Hearing Scully's voice say his name somewhat sharply snapped him 
out of his fantasy.  Fantasy?  He shook his head.  He was not 
fantasizing about his partner.  First clearing his throat, he 
replied, hoping his voice did not sound as husky to Scully as it 
did in his ears.  "Uh, sorry, Scully, thought there was someone 
at the door."  Good thinking, Mulder, he thought.  One hand came 
up to drag through his already spiky hair.

"What did you want, Mulder?" Scully asked, rubbing her other hand 
over her eyes.  She smothered a yawn as she waited for Mulder to 
answer.  

"Um, I wanted to know if you had any plans this weekend, Scully," 
Mulder replied.

Scully had this sudden feeling she should say yes, make up 
something, anything.  She hesitated too long and he continued on, 
sounding pleased.

"Actually, I just realized I asked you that this morning, and you 
said 'Not a thing, Mulder. Just relaxing and catching up on a 
good book'," Mulder quoted.

Scully's eyes opened, and she almost groaned out loud.  She had 
said that.  She knew Mulder had not called her just to chat.  He 
probably had some crazy UFO sighting he wanted to drag her along 
to.  She had no desire to traipse after him in some god-forsaken 
woods somewhere in the middle of Nowhere, America.  "Mulder..." 
she began.

He interrupted her.  "Scully, I know what you're thinking, but 
honest, it's nothing to do with UFO's or aliens, I swear."  He 
was sitting up now on his couch, his excitement about the article 
The Lone Gunmen had e-mailed him a couple hours ago stirred up 
all over again.

"What is it then, Mulder?" Scully almost sighed into the phone.

"Disappearing women, Scully. The article I read said there were 
three, but I've done some research, and there's been at least two 
more, dating back to the late 1950's.  It looks like they all 
stayed at the same bed and breakfast in Nantucket Island, 
Massachusetts.  A place called Starbuck House."  His enthusiasm 
was obvious.

Scully had been about to make a quip about haunted houses, but 
the name 'Starbuck' knocked all such thoughts completely out of 
her head.  Her eyes closed again, tightly, and a picture formed 
behind closed lids.  Ahab, and herself, sitting on the back porch 
in the fading twilight, reading Moby Dick together.  She realized 
Mulder was still talking, blissfully unaware of his partner's 
silence and the reason for it.

"...booked us rooms there for the weekend.  I told one of the 
owners, John Carrington, we would be arriving late tonight.  Our 
flight out of Dulles is at 7:45, so I'll be at your place in 
forty minutes, okay?" Mulder continued.  A brief pause, and then, 
"Scully, you still there?"

"Yes, Mulder, I'm still here," she replied softly, throat aching 
with unshed tears.  "Um, so where did you get this article you 
read?" she asked, the words coming out a little more strongly 
than she had intended as she strove to put her father out of her 
mind.  For now.

"The guys sent it to me in an e-mail just after you left," Mulder 
answered, waiting for Scully's annoyed sigh at the mention of The 
Lone Gunmen.  He did not have long to wait.

Scully's breath huffed out as she said, "The Gunmen?  Oh, 
Mulder..."

He interrupted whatever she had intended to say.  "It's legit, 
Scully.  I called the Police Department on the island and they 
confirmed that three women have disappeared there in the past 20 
years, with the most recent being just over three years ago, in 
April 1997.  The lieutenant I spoke to said we could go through 
their older records when we got there, to look for other cases."  
He paused as he scratched at his head, and then said, "Pack 
casual, Scully, and I'll see you in forty, all right?"

So much for her long soak in the tub, and her quiet weekend.  
But she could rarely, if ever, refuse Mulder.  And she had never 
been to Nantucket before, it was supposed to be quite beautiful.
  
"Yes, Mulder, I'll be ready," she replied, and silently tacked 
on, 'barely'.  The phone disconnected in her ear as Mulder hung 
up and she pressed end before laying the phone back down on top 
of the towel.

Mulder tossed his phone aside and stood, pumping his fist up and 
down quickly, elbow bent, to celebrate his victory, before 
heading into his bedroom to pack.  Scully was sometimes a hard 
sell, but she had caved more quickly than he had thought she 
would.  

His foot kicked a pile of dirty clothes as he entered, and he 
cursed softly as he realized he had forgotten once again to do 
laundry.  With a shrug, he nudged the pile aside and ducked into 
his closet to lug out his suitcase.  Packing would take five 
minutes, tops, and then he'd be on his way to pick up Scully.


~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
Diary of Liza MacGregor
June 2, 1872

The townspeople look upon me with pity, but I hold my head high.  
They will not see my shame.  Nor my hatred.

I have commissioned a wedding gift for John and Rose, a 
handcrafted cheval mirror of cherry wood from the town's 
finest furniture maker.  It is intended as a symbol of my wish 
for their continued happiness, and a gesture to show all that I 
am not bitter, or in despair.  

It is only here in these pages that I can admit that these are 
falsehoods.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*


Scully's Apartment
6:40 PM


Scully washed herself quickly and pulled the plug with a regretful 
sigh, once again silently bemoaning the lost opportunity for a 
long, leisurely soak.  Stepping carefully onto the fluffy bathmat, 
she dried off with the matching large, plush towel and then re-hung 
it neatly on the towel rack.  

After smoothing lotion on her legs and arms and applying deodorant, 
she pulled her robe on.  Tying the sash as she walked into her 
bedroom, the sound of the water and bubbles swirling down the drain 
in her ears, she made her way to her dresser to retrieve 
undergarments.  In her mind she was compiling a mental checklist of 
the items she would need to add to her suitcase.

Remembering suddenly with a muttered curse, that her 'ready-to-go 
on a moment's notice' suitcase was not so ready, she grumbled under 
her breath.  She had emptied it out and given it a thorough cleaning 
after their last field trip several weeks ago, and had never gotten 
around to completely re-packing it.

Glancing at the clock on her nightstand, she grimaced.  She now 
had less than forty minutes to pack, fix her hair, get dressed and 
grab a quick bite to eat.  Airplane food for dinner really did not 
appeal to her.  

Her stomach growled then, loudly, and she revised her schedule.  
Not eating when she needed to always made her feel out of sorts.  
Slipping her robe off and tossing it on the end of the bed, she 
donned a bra and panties set before entering her closet.

A few moments later she re-emerged dressed in casual black pants 
and a black button-down sweater.  She retrieved a pair of black 
dress socks from another dresser drawer, sat on the bed to slip 
them on, and then hurried down the hall to the kitchen.

Fortunately she had the makings of a decent salad, which she 
threw together after putting the kettle on for a cup of tea.  She 
ate her dinner leaning against the counter, one eye on the clock.

She also started thinking about the case they were going to 
investigate, about the disappearing women as Mulder had termed 
them.  The possibility that the women had been staying at the 
same place, the bed and breakfast Inn called Starbuck House, was 
certainly interesting and intriguing.  

Recalling that she had been about to tease Mulder about haunted 
houses until the name of the Inn had registered, she thought about 
the many files on various hauntings and phenomenon she had 
accumulated over her years on the X-Files.  It couldn't hurt to 
have such information on hand.

Quickly and efficiently taking care of her dinner dishes, she 
headed over to her desk to retrieve those files.  It took only 
moments to do so, thanks to her innate sense of order and tidy 
filing system, and with files in hand, she returned to her bedroom 
to stow them in her briefcase.

Time passed in a blur as she finished her packing and tidied up 
her apartment, and the next thing Scully knew, she was hearing 
Mulder's familiar and steady knock on her door.  With one last 
finger-comb through her hair, she left the bathroom and went down 
the hall.  

A quick peek through the peephole to confirm it was indeed Mulder 
revealed her partner standing there in his black leather jacket.  
She threw the deadbolt and opened the door, already turning away 
to get her own jacket as he crossed the threshold.

Mulder smiled, giving Scully the once over, taking in her semi-
casual attire –- the coloring of which matched his own -- and 
opened his mouth to greet her.  But as she was already heading 
back down the hall, he closed his mouth again and stuffed his 
hands in the pockets of his black jeans to wait.

"One minute, Mulder," Scully called over her shoulder.  Picking 
up her black, all-weather trench coat off the small bench in the 
hallway, she shrugged into it as she walked back to the door.
  
"Sorry about that," she told her partner.  "I was running a bit 
behind."  At his accepting nod and smile, she bent to pick up her 
laptop carrier and briefcase.  

Mulder grabbed her suitcase and they headed out, Scully locking 
the door behind them.

***

End Part 1