Through the Looking Glass
by Lovesfox

Headers in Prologue


Part 9

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Diary of Liza MacGregor
March 22, 1888

Rose yet lingers.  Why does the cursed woman not succumb?  

Her suffering is no longer enough to appease me.  I must take 
further action.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*


Jared Coffin House
29 Broad Street
Saturday, May 21, 2000
6:35 PM


Their dinner reservation was for seven o'clock, but Mulder had 
planned for an early arrival.  When telling him of some favorite 
places to dine, Nancy had mentioned that there was a cupola on 
the roof of the Jared Coffin House, with a beautiful view of the 
harbor, and he had been sold.  Besides intriguing him, he had 
known Scully would love it.

Luckily there was a parking spot available approximately a block 
away from the restaurant, and he directed the rental into it 
smoothly, cutting the engine.  A gentle slam had him realizing 
Scully was already out of the car.  

Hustling to get out and shut his door, he rounded the car with 
a look of mock dejection on his face.  "Scully," he said with 
some disappointment.  "You didn't let me get the door for you."

Scully turned from admiring the street at the sound of the other 
car door closing, and watched Mulder rush around the front hood 
to stand before her, a playful pout on his lips.  His statement 
was puzzling.  

"Mulder, you never open the door for me," she said baldly in 
reply, eyeballing him with some concern.  Then the meaning sank 
in and she blinked, making a moue of her lips, feeling an odd 
fluttering in her lower belly.  "Unless this is a date?"  

Her voice sounded both nervous and slightly intrigued, Mulder 
thought.  The idea of being on a date with Scully left him with 
similar feelings, and he wasn't yet ready to delve into such 
matters.  So he equivocated, of course.  "Just wanted to show 
you I can be a gentleman, that's all," he told her, and 
surprising the both of them, offered her his arm.  After only 
the slightest of hesitations and a mystified smile, Scully 
curled her hand around his bicep.

They strolled companionably along the sidewalk, Mulder telling 
Scully all about Jared Coffin House.  "Jared Coffin was a 
prominent, successful ship owner who built what was the Island's 
first three-storey mansion in 1845," he related.  "Various owners 
expanded the property over time, which now totals six buildings.  
Along with Jared's, the restaurant we'll be dining at, there's a 
more casual dining area called The Tap Room, banquet facilities 
and the Inn itself, with over sixty guest rooms."

"It sounds lovely," Scully replied, glancing his way with a small 
smile.  She was amused by, and very interested in this side of 
her partner, one rarely seen.  

Just then, the stately building they were almost upon caught her 
attention.  Slowing, she released her hold on Mulder's arm and 
stepped away from him, her head tilted back to study the Jared 
Coffin House.

Restrained elegance were the words that came to her mind.  Simple 
yet refined, the building was like many on the Island, brown-
bricked and of the Federal style.

"You have wonderful taste, Mulder," she murmured, and turned her 
head to the side to look at him.  Her face immediately went hot, 
though the waning light of early evening thankfully hid that fact.

He was staring at her ass.

Lifting his gaze to meet her eyes, Mulder grinned unabashedly.  
For some reason he was not disturbed in the least to have been 
caught by Scully in the process of admiring her figure.  "Yes, 
I do," he replied softly, unrepentantly.  Referring not to the 
restaurant, but to Scully herself.

Ducking her head shyly, Scully took a deep breath before meeting 
his eyes once more.  Uncertain exactly how to proceed, she 
decided ignoring the situation and his comment was her best 
response.  "Shall we?" she asked, her voice calm, and indicated 
the restaurant with a nod of her chin.

Mulder smiled faintly and stepped forward, curling his hand under 
her elbow.  He would not push her.  "We shall," he answered, and 
led her past two square-shaped stone pillars at the bottom of the 
stairs.  They climbed up the stone steps slowly, her free hand 
trailing along the black wrought iron railing, and under the white 
portico, held up by two graceful ionic columns.

Once inside, Scully admired the ocean-themed artwork in the 
entryway, while Mulder gave his name to the smiling hostess.  
The atmosphere was one of elegance and intimacy, sending a slight 
twinge of tension through her.  Which was utterly ridiculous.  It 
was just dinner with her partner, and they'd eaten together in 
numerous environs; in hundreds of restaurants, cafes and God help 
her, even truck stops.

She caught snippets of the conversation between Mulder and the 
hostess -- the words 'staircase' and 'down that hall' -- and 
wondered what Mulder had planned.  A moment later, he was at her 
side, his hand cupping her elbow once more.

Leaning into Scully, Mulder murmured, "We're a bit early, so our 
table's not ready yet.  Walk with me."

She eyed him inquisitively, but acquiesced without a word, 
yielding to the slight pressure on her arm, letting him guide 
her down a hallway and through a discreet doorway.  

It led to a narrow staircase, and Mulder indicated she should 
start up the stairs.  She did so, with him a step behind, but 
her natural curiosity would not let her remain silent.  Glancing 
over her shoulder she asked, "Mulder, where are we going?"

The smile he flashed at her, while charming and flirtatious, was 
as cryptic as his reply, "You'll see."

He was certainly acting differently this evening Scully mused to 
herself -– relaxed, playful, not totally consumed by the case -- 
and had to admit she liked it, even while it confounded her.

As they reached the top of the stairs, she realized they had 
reached their destination, and were actually in a cupola, on 
the roof of the building.  The enclosure was square-shaped, with 
windows on all four sides, affording a 360-degree view.

With the apparent onset of rain, it was much cooler than it had 
been while they walked along the street, and she was glad she 
had chosen to wear her blazer again, over her long-sleeved, 
turtleneck sweater.  She noticed that Mulder appeared unaffected 
by the now damp chill in the air, despite the fact that he wore 
only a casual, button-down shirt and a sport coat. 

The resultant clouds unfortunately diminished the full effect of 
the cupola.  Still, they were able to see the wharves and a few 
diehard sail boaters out on the water, as well as the surrounding 
residential area.  To the northeast, they could make out the hazy 
outline of a lighthouse, which Mulder murmured was called Brant 
Point.

"This is really nice, Mulder," Scully said as she watched a boat 
coming into one of the wharves.  He was standing very close beside 
her, his attention also focused on the activity at the docks, a 
warm presence at her side.  Something else she was enjoying.  

It was not necessary for him to be so close, the cupola was not 
overly large –- the two of them fit comfortably, with 
maneuverability, and it was possible another one or two people 
could join them.  Thankfully though, no one had, they had the 
small structure to themselves.    

"Yeah, it is," he agreed quietly, leaning into her to nudge her 
gently with his upper arm, fighting the temptation to wrap it 
around her shoulders and tuck her into his body.  "We don't do 
things like this often enough, Scully."

"No, we don't."  She turned her head to find him regarding her 
with affectionate eyes, and her answering smile was warm.  
"Thank-you for inviting me to dinner, Mulder."

"You're welcome," he responded, smiling back.  After a moment 
or so, he glanced at his watch, quirking an eyebrow at her.  
"Speaking of dinner, I think we should head back down, our 
table should be ready now."

She nodded, and looked out to sea one last time before turning 
and starting carefully downward, Mulder once again a step behind 
her.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Diary of Liza MacGregor
March 28, 1888

It is done.

I rejoice, for Rose is dead.

I went to visit her this morning, and made her tea from my special 
herbs, as I have for many days now.  Little-known herbs that I 
grow in secret, ones that do more harm than good.  

We talked, and I again told her of the curse I had placed upon 
her so many years ago.

I took her to the mirror, proudly displayed in a guest bedroom, 
and told her it was the cause of all her pain and her suffering.  
Weakened further by my herbs, she had little strength.  I forced 
her to touch the mirror, and Rose gasped in pain and fear, and 
then fainted.

Laying her upon the bed, I left her there, and made my way home.

It is there that the news of her death was brought to me, hours 
later.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Jared Coffin House
7:05 PM


Their table was indeed ready, complete with linen napkins and 
candlelight, and a somewhat formal ambiance.  The same hostess 
whom Mulder had spoken to upon their arrival escorted them to a 
cozy spot at the back of the restaurant, laying a menu down at 
each place setting.  Once they had taken their seats, she 
informed them their waiter would just be a moment and then 
excused herself.

Scully had been surprised once more, even as she was appreciating 
their surroundings.  For Mulder had courteously seated her before 
taking his own chair across the table.  A gentlemanly gesture that 
she could not recall him ever offering her, it was both flattering 
and almost a little overwhelming.

As the hostess had stated, the waiter was there in moments, 
negating the need for much small talk.  The young man introduced 
himself, and once Mulder had declined a look at the wine list, 
described the selections on that evening's menu.  Before he 
departed to give them time to decide, they both ordered ice 
water.  Those were brought in no short order.

Opening the embossed menu, Scully glanced at the prices and could 
not help her reaction –- the slight rise of her eyebrows.  At a 
sound from Mulder, she looked up to see that he was regarding her 
with amusement.

Although there were times he could not read his partner at all 
–- enigmatic indeed –- there were occasions when her every 
thought was crystal clear.  Lowering his own menu, Mulder leaned 
forward a little and quietly voiced, "Don't worry, Scully.  I'm 
good for it."

Her wicked side mused that he was probably very, very good...

Scully had to duck her head down to hide the pinking of her cheeks.  
Where had that stray sexual thought come from?  Reaching out for 
her water, she took a long drink, conscious of Mulder's eyes upon 
her.

Deciding not to tease her any further, Mulder resumed his perusal 
of the menu as Scully was returning her glass to the table.  His 
choice was made almost instantly.  Laying the menu aside, he let 
his gaze wander over the artwork on the walls of the restaurant, 
many of which were paintings of whaling ships, once an enormously 
profitable industry on Nantucket Island.

Their waiter had apparently been hovering, because the moment 
Scully lowered her menu to the table, he was there.

Mulder ordered the Grilled Black Angus Sirloin, well done, with 
a Classic Caesar salad as a starter, while Scully chose the Seared 
Tuna and Shrimp, and New England Chowder.

While waiting, they quietly discussed what they had learned, and 
the route the investigation needed to take.  Mulder was keen on 
the offered opportunity to speak to the retired officer, and mused 
that they should perhaps return to the Pharmacy and see if Joe or 
any other locals might be willing to chat.  

Scully nodded, saying it was a sound idea, and voiced her intent 
to speak to Essie Dunford.  She then proposed that they speak to 
both Nancy and John Carrington; with the suggestion they profess 
to have heard about the disappearances while in town.

It was Mulder's turn to nod his agreement, and before he could 
speak again, their waiter arrived with the appetizers.  Sharing 
a look of anticipation and hunger, they dug in without further 
ado.

Conversation was minimal while they ate, and in no time at all, 
they were both finished.

The timing was perfect –- not many minutes after the waiter had 
cleared the dishes from their appetizers, he was returning with 
the entrees, steaming plates that smelled delicious.  He 
presented each one with a flourish, placing Scully's before her 
first, and then asked them if they had changed their mind about 
the wine, or if there was anything else they needed.  Once 
they had assured him everything was fine, he departed with a 
polite nod, leaving them to their dinner.

After taking a sip of his water, Mulder started a conversation.  
Partly because he did not want to have spent most of the evening 
discussing their case, and partly because he wanted to get her 
in a good mood before he put forth a request she might balk at.  

"So, Scully," he murmured casually as he began cutting a bite of 
steak.  "I thought I'd have to beat off an admirer of yours 
today."

In the process of lifting a forkful of orzo from her plate, 
Scully looked up at him quickly, confusion and curiosity evident 
in her eyes.  "I beg your pardon?" 

"Officer Marston..." he began, admiring the haughty tone she 
employed, and then modified by saying with teasing inflection, 
"Samuel."   Smiling inwardly at, and oddly comforted by the 
brief flare of alarm in her eyes, he continued.  "Samuel was 
giving me the third degree on our way to the Town Hall.  Wanted 
to know if you were seeing anyone.  I got the impression he 
wanted to ask you on a date."

"Really," was her only response.  The dry tone matched the look 
on her face.

Enjoying himself, he said, "Mm-hmmm."  Knowing she was waiting 
for him to expound on the topic, he took his time with the 
cooked-to-perfection piece of meat, chewing slowly, savoring 
the flavor.

Scully realized Mulder was having just a bit too much fun with 
this, for the second time that day, and decided payback was in 
order.  Feigning interest and a touch of enthusiasm, she mused 
aloud, "Hmmmm.  Perhaps I should give Samuel a call after we've 
finished our dinner, see if he wants to go for a drink with me.  
I've got his number in my bag, right here."

Mulder nearly choked, and had to take a large gulp of water, 
swallowing quickly.  Putting the glass down, he met his 
partner's very amused eyes, saw the smile playing about her 
lips.  "Not nice," he chided, tsk-tsking at her.

"And you were, I suppose?"  She toasted him with her raised fork, 
and then brought the orzo to her mouth.

"I was the soul of discretion," he returned.  "Told him you had 
sworn off men, that you were steps away from joining a nunnery."

Her laughter broke free, surprisingly loud in their quiet, 
intimate corner, drawing looks from more than a few patrons.  
It transformed her –- made her eyes sparkle, her cheeks flush 
with color.  

Mulder blinked, and realized he was staring at her.  Flashing a 
grin, he returned her toast with another bite of his steak.  
When he had finished it, he told her, "Actually, I told Marston 
your personal life was your own business."

"Oh," she responded, her fork halfway to her plate again.  Giving 
him a tight smile, she murmured, "Well, thank-you, Mulder."

An odd silence reigned for a few minutes as they both studied 
their plates, eating quietly.  Neither looking at the other.

Uncomfortable, and feeling as if he'd made a gaffe somehow, Mulder 
tried a new topic.  "I spoke to Lisa again, when we got back to 
the Inn earlier."

Scully's eyes flashed relief at him, and she quirked an eyebrow.  
"Did you learn anything else?"

"She confirmed that the rooms were once known by names, the names 
of flowers," he replied, still wondering how to couch his request 
to have her switch rooms with him.

"And?"  Her eyebrow rose higher.

"And," he said, drawing the word out, "the room you are staying 
in was the Rose Room."  His eyes intent on her face, he watched 
as she reacted with barely a flicker, and realized she had 
already made the connection.  

Scully had suspected that was the case.  She was also fairly 
certain she knew what he was going to say next, and decided to 
beat him to the punch.  "There is no need for me to switch rooms 
with you, Mulder."

"But, Scully-"

She interrupted him.  "Mulder, I am not going to change rooms 
because of a rumor."

The look on her face and the implacable tone of her voice told 
him she would not change her mind.  He subsided for the time 
being, wondering how she would react if she woke up and found 
him sitting guard later tonight.

"And I don't need a roommate either, Mulder."

Damn, she was good.  He smiled crookedly, holding his hands up 
partway in surrender, and quipped, "But I'm housebroken, Scully."

Eyes rolling, she chuckled a little.  Pointing at his plate with 
her fork, she said, "Eat your dinner, Mulder."

"Yes, dear."

***

End Part 9