Persistence Of Memory by Kristie Hughes Definite Relationship Warning here. Disclaimer: Don't own them. Don't want to. No hassle, no responsibility this way. Rating: R--Adult sexual content, bad language. Category: MSR Time Span: January 1 1995-Summer 2011 (i think) Spoiler warnings: none for the prologue; all other parts beware. Author's notes: none. just send me feedback. by the way, anyone have a ballpark figure how far a drive Maine would be from D.C.? The Persistence of Time: Prologue--Keys by Kristie Hughes Intro: This is the prologue to a story that I have in the works. It's my first attempt at a longer story that actually almost has a plot. Hopefully, I'll finish it pretty quickly after I start posting what I already have. It being summer and all, I can devote more time to it. The premise of the story is hard to explain...but I think the first part will explain itself. The title is actually a Salvador Dali (sp?) work. I'm thinking of adding a second part to the prologue, because it can pretty much stand on its own--write me if you think I should do so. Now, let's get this show on the road. ***************************************** January 1 1995 Dana Scully wrinkled her nose in annoyance as she looked up at the ceiling. Had her upstairs neighbors *always* been this noisy? Giving a little shrug, she retreated into her bedroom to get dressed, cranking up the volume on the stereo as she walked by. Realizing that she hadn't actually done laundry in quite a while, Scully rummaged through her closet and pulled out a man's white Oxford button up. One of Mulder's that had gotten mixed up with her dry cleaning after trekking through mud and muck looking for Big Foot or some other such creature that only existed in children's fairytales...and Mulder's. A faint smile touched her lips as she pulled the shirt over her head, leaving the top few buttons undone. Very comfortable, she thought, as she picked up her brush and blowdryer. She pulled her now fluffy hair up into a hasty ponytail and did a little dance, singing along to the upbeat country and western song that resounded through the apartment...using her brush as a microphone. As the song ended, the sound of appreciative applause from the doorway nearly gave Scully a heart attack. She whirled around to see Fox Mulder leaning against the doorjamb and launched the hairbrush at him, hitting him square in the chest. Glaring angrily, embarrassment coloring her cheeks, she snapped, "Jesus Christ, Mulder, how'd you get in here?" He gave a wolfish grin. "The front door, Scully. How do *you* enter your apartment?" Another glare. "I use the my key, but--" "Hey, so did I," he said in a wow-what-a-coincidence kind of voice. "But," she continued, obviously not amused, "I expect *you* to knock." "I did, but the music was so loud I figured you didn't hear me...so I let myself in." And he really hadn't meant to spy on her. But she was just so...cute...dancing around in that oversized shirt, with a make believe microphone and her hair up in that ponytail, face scrubbed free of makeup. She looked more like a teenager than a 30 year old FBI agent with a medical degree. His eyes wandered down her body as she stalked up to him, giving him a shove backwards out of her bedroom. He couldn't help noticing that while the shirt was big on her, it still showed more leg than *he'd* ever seen before. And what lovely legs they were... He followed her back to the living room, eyes never leaving those legs, where she lowered the volume on the radio and proceeded to the kitchen. "So, Mulder, what *are* you doing at my place on a Saturday evening? And if it has anything at all to do with work, I suggest you turn around and leave the same way you came in because *I* am spending a relaxing night at home." "I just came to see if you wanted to get a pizza or something..." he trailed off. How lame, Mulder. Mulder kicked at an invisible spot on the floor. "I mean, never mind." Scully noticed how uncomfortable he looked and wondered why. The were *never* uncomfortable with each other. But, then, she hadn't been particularly nice to him here lately. She'd been quick tempered and at times downright nasty. She felt a sudden overwhelming sense of guilt, looking at that little-boy-lost pout he seeed to have perfected, his brow wrinkled in concentration. He was so unsure of her that he was afraid to ask her to have pizza, for goodness sakes. She gave a little sigh and smacked him playfully on the arm. "We can do better than pizza, Agent Mulder. How 'bout I cook for you?" she gave a little wink as his gaze finally met her eyes and gestured towards the stove. The way his eyes lit up, she may as well have just offerred him the world. Licking his lips, his gaze fell upon the pot of sauce simmering on the stove top. "So what's cooking, Doc?" "Puh-sketti," she answered in a little girl voice. "You like?" "Hey, all kids like puh-sketti. What can I do to help." She quickly considered where Mulder could cause the least damage to her kitchen. "Everything's almost ready. The salad's in the fridge...you could open some wine or something, though." He leered at her playfully. "Are you trying to get me drunk, Doc?" She raised an eyebrow and handed him a corkscrew. "The wine's for me. You can have milk, young man. And you can set the table." He reached to the top shelf where she kept the wineglasses and Scully found herself admiring his well-shaped body. Mulder set the table and handed her a glass of wine. He also noticed how much of her chest was showing with those buttons undone at the top. Damn, why hadn't she put on more clothes? He was all but drooling here and she didn't even notice. All she was wearing was a white shirt...and in her well lit kitchen, he was certain she wasn't wearing a bra. Shifting uncomfortably, he watched as she put the spoon to her mouth and tested the sauce. She licked her lips and raised the spoon to his mouth. "Think it needs more seasoning?" "No, it's perfect," he murmured appreciatively, not sure he was still talking about the spaghetti sauce. He swiped her bottom lip to remove some sauce that was left there. Scully felt her chest tighten when his fingers grazed her lips and her stomach gave a funny little lurch. The heat from the stove must've been getting to her because she was suddenly very hot. "Good," she managed. "Let's eat." She raised her eyebrows at the candles Mulder had lit but said nothing. But he noticed. "Just trying to impress you with my ability to set the mood," he joked. Before she could respond, there was a knock at the door. "Get that, would you, Mulder? I think the bread is burning." When Scully returned from the kitchen with the bread basket she heard Mulder say, "We were just about to have dinner...want to join us?" Margaret Scully stopped short as she noticed the candles and the table for two. Mulder nearly bumped into her. "Uh, no, I just stopped by to say hi to Dana. I'm on my way to dinner with some friends, mysel--" Then she noticed her daughter standing there in nothing but a man's dress shirt. And she didn't have to guess which man it belonged to. Even she could feel the sparks flying in the tiny apartment. Scully noticed her mother staring and began to get self-conscious. She looked down at her shirt and realized only then the idea this whole situation must be giving her mother. But there was no way she could set her mother straight without sounding lame, so she didn't even try. She considered excusing herself to put on more clothes, but that would only serve to make her mother more uncomfortable. So instead she hugged Maggie and said, "Hi Mom. Are you sure you don't want us to set an extra place?" "Uh, no. I just wanted to see how you were doing. I hadn't heard from you in a couple of days." "I'm fine, Mom. Oh, Mulder, I forgot to bring out the salad. Could you get it?" "Yeah, sure, Doc," he said, sidestepping Mrs. Scully. "Mom, let me get that book you've been wanting to read." Scully hastily retreated into the bedroom, not wanting to give her mother time to question why she and Mulder were having a candlelit dinner or why she was only half dressed. Funny, she thought, as hse yanked on a pair of black silk boxers (also Mulder's). She wasn't even self-conscious around Mulder dressed like that. But then, they knew each other better than most couples, anyway. Now why had she compared them to a couple? Why not brother and sister. Annoyed with herself, Scully picked up the book and looked in the mirror. The boxers couldn't even be seen beneath the shirt. Oh, well. It wasn't like Mulder would notice. "Here you go, Mom," she said handing over the book. "Thanks, Dana. I really need to go now. Good night, Fox." "Night, Mrs. Scully." "Call me later, Mom, to let me know you're home," Scully said as she walked her to the door. ******************************* Scully walked over to where Mulder was loading the dishwasher. "Here, you forgot a glass." "Thanks...for dinner, everything." She hopped up on the counter. "Any time." "Scully? What's the use of having a dishwasher when you're just making me wash them before I put them in the machine?" She strugged, gesturing towards the Palmolive. "It'll make your hands soft." Mulder leered at her. "Is that an invitation for me to show you just how soft they are?" She wondered what he would do if she said yes. Would he call her on it? Scully suddenly didn't feel like joking anymore. Without answering, she slipped off the counter and went into her bedroom. Absentmindedly, she looked into the mirror. Yanking the ponytail down, she let her hair cascade wildly to her shoulders. Okay, this is pathetic. She was going to go out there and tell him to leave. She'd been more than friendly tonight, done her sisterly duty. She didn't have to torture herself any further by sitting in the dark with him pretending to watch a movie she'd already seen before. For some reason, her eyes were stinging as she flung open her bedroom door and stalked into the living room. Mulder was sprawled out lazily on the couch--her couch. That only upset her more. "I don't want to watch a video, Mulder. I want to go to bed." He opened his eyes part of the way. "Are you making a pass at me, Scully?" His lips curled up into a playful grin. She picked up his keys and opened the front door. "No, Mulder, it would be a cold day in hell before I'd be stupid enough to make that mistake." Her voice was cold and tightly controlled. Mulder looked confused. "I was joking, Scully." He though he could see tears in her eyes. "I know you were, Mulder. But I wasn't." She tossed him his keys and left the door open, hoping he would take the hint. "Scully, what's wrong? Did something happen? Do you feel all right?" He stepped towards her, but she backed away. "I'm fine, Mulder. You know the way out." She started to walk away, but he cornered her. "I can't leave you like this, Scully. Not if you're hurting." She gave him a shove and he almost fell backwards. "Don't you get it, Mulder? You're hurting me by being here." The words hit him hard, harder than any physical blow he could have suffered. He fingered his keys, then slipped her apartment key off and handed it to her. He looked into her eyes, tears rolling down her cheeks. Her bottom lip was quivering the slightest bit. There was nothing he could say, not if she felt that way. he walked out the door, feeling guilty and completely alone. Scully slammed the door and looked at her plants in on the window sill. She opened the window and threw them out, one by one. If her life had to be so empty, she couldn't stand the thought of being around any other living thing. The sound of glass breaking echoed in the night. For Scully, the sound was addictive. She had a box of old kitchenware shoved in the corner that she had been meaning to do something with. One by one she dropped the plates and cups out the window. Somehow, Mulder made it to the entrance of Scully's apartment building. Glass crunched under his feet and he looked down. Then he glanced up and saw that her window was open. She had a destructive way of doing her cleaning...and she had started by tossing him out. So what else was new? She shut him out all the time, anyway. A voice in his head taunted. Oh, she'd made a point, all right. Mulder took a deep breath and tried to think calmly. It was difficult to see past the hurt. He'd just lost the one person he really cared about. But a nagging part of him said that Scully couldn't see past the hurt right now either, whatever that may be. He'd told her back there that he couldn't leave her hurting. But he had. The Scully he knew didn't make life altering decisions in a fit of emotion; that was his area of expertise. And she hadn't asked him to walk out of her life; just her apartment. Maybe she'd just needed some time alone. Mulder turned and ran back to her apartment. He banged on the door, but she didn't answer. "Scully! Open the door. I'm not leaving until you do." He banged harder. "Scully, I'll break the damn door in if I have to." He waited a second and started to do just that. But he decided to check the door and see if it was locked first. For some reason, it wasn't. He walked in and saw her sitting under the window against the wall, knees drawn up to her chest. "What do you want, Mulder?" She sounded tired. he walked right up to her and looked down. " I want my goddamned key back. You gave it to me and it's mine. I'm not leaving without it." She just looked at him like he was crazy. He knelt in front of her and kept yelling. "You can't just expect me to give you up that easily, Scully. I mad a mistake by walking out of here earlier. I'm not going to make the same one twice. You're a part of me, Scully. And if you don't like it, that's just too damn bad because you're stuck with me now. You may want to walk away from the X-Files, but I won't let you leave me. Not without a fight." "Stop yelling at me, you son-of-a-bitch. Here's your fucking key. And I never said I was leaving you *or* the X-Files. If something's worth fighting for, I don't give up on it, Fox William Mulder. And you know that." She was yelling louder than he had been. He grabbed her by her shoulders and pulled her close to him. She struggled and he lost his balance, ending up flat on his back with her on top of him. His body responded immediately. She scrambled off of him and they both stood up. He leaned over to speak into her ear. "Are you saying I'm worth fighting for, Scully?" She sighed a little and whispered back, "You are to me." She let her head drop onto her chest. Mulder put his arm around her waist and backed her up against the wall. He pushed his hips flush against hers. "Can't you feel what you do to me, Scully? With just one look, one arch of the eyebrow?" Scully was rapidly losing her composure and her control. "I thought you saw me as a sister," she managed, her hands wandering all over him. "That's sick, Scully." She reached up and twisted her fingers in his hair and pulled his head down, taking his bottom lip between hers....nibbling gently then sucking. A shiver of anticipation shot through her. "Mulder, take your clothes off." He looked startled. "What?!?" "Take off your clothes. I don't want to give you time to start thinking about this and then have you run out on me before you finish what you started." He went still and looked into her eyes. "I'm not going anywhere, Scully. Not now, not ever." He kicked off his shoes and wrapped his arms around her. God, it had been a long time since he'd held her. "All you ever have to do is tell me what you need, what you want and I'll try to do it for you." Scully's heart melted; she felt a little teary-eyed. Running her hands under his t-shirt, she whispered seductively. "I *need* *you*. And I *want* you to take your clothes off." ****************** The end. Stay tuned for the next part....and let me know what you think....does this prologue warrant a second part all its own??? email me: hughekd@okra.millsaps.edu or khughes@msms.doe.k12.ms.us From hughekd@okra.millsaps.edu Fri Jul 12 05:14 EST 1996 Received: from okra02.millsaps.edu by everest.eng.ohio-state.edu (8.6.12/3.910501) id FAA15697; Fri, 12 Jul 1996 05:14:35 GMT Received: by okra.millsaps.edu (MX V4.2 VAX) id 27; Fri, 12 Jul 1996 00:14:23 -0500 Date: Fri, 12 Jul 1996 00:14:23 -0500 From: KRISTIE HUGHES To: juodvalk Message-ID: <009A530F.8ADD1300.27@okra.millsaps.edu> Subject: The Persistence of Memory-- Prologue (2/2) Content-Type: text Content-Length: 11450 Status: RO ***** From: Kristie Hughes you guys can email me at khughes@msms.doe.k12.ms.us okay, you Extreme Possibilities-er's this was posted first on the big fanfic mailing list. i usually wait until you guys read them before i post them there...but i needed the feedback and we're a little backed up...i've sent something to the effect of 6 installments on this story already...but let me know what you guys think...so i can take your ideas into consideration for this little spinoff *and* while finishing the story itself.... kris DISCLAIMER: I deny everything...including the usage of these characters without permission from their rightful owners. CATEGORY: Mind candy....oh yeah, MSR RATING: i don't do ratings. this is a dog eat dog world. but i rarely do nc-17 either, so you're pretty safe with me. TIME SPAN: 1 & 2nd January 1995 (yes, there's a reason it's 95) SUMMARY: this is mind candy. yum, yum AUTHOR'S NOTES: i'm an author. i get to do these things. this is hot off the presses--i have a sunburn to prove it. it was written in the midst of a water gun fight with my younger siblings today by the pool. i braved a weekend at home. mothers are strange people. so, this one's for my mom. ------ now, several people asked for a sequel to the prologue. this is the official sequel. from here on out, if there are other parts to the prologue, which really has very little to do with the story itself, i will just call it prologue. this could develop into a series all its own. time and your feedback will tell. i have time between now and september...so here goes. the fifth and sixth parts of Persistence of Memory will be out shortly. The Persistence of Memory: Prologue (2) -- Beep by Kristie Hughes ************************************************** Scully tried to stretch, but her legs seemed to be caught in or under something. On the verge of panic, she shot up suddenly in bed. Her first thought was that she was not alone. Then last night came back to her in a rush of memory. Oh, God. Had she really told Mulder to take his clothes off? And that she needed him? That memory did nothing for her panic attack. She was verging on hysterical now. Then she felt a familiar hand on the small of her back. The tension drained from her shoulders and her breathing returned to normal. It was amazing the effect that simple gesture had on her. "Scully? You okay?" He was sitting up behind her, his voice thick from sleep. "I'm fine, Mulder." And she was...sort of. That sent warning bells off in Mulder's head. Were they already hiding things from each other again? "Scully, you looked terrified just now. What is it?" "Nothing. I just....for a minute I didn't know where I was." Which was silly, since she was in her own bed. Mulder tried to joke it off. "Occupational hazard?" "That goes without saying," she said, though not unkindly. He stretched out and motioned for her to lie back down. Scully lay down and turned over on her stomach, using Mulder's chest as a pillow. He absently ran his fingers through her hair and down her back, tracing circles on the bare skin. She sight deeply and felt her eyelids droop. Mulder thought how rare a moment this was, Scully allowing herself to be comforted and soothed. Not really since that first case together had he seen this side of her--the vulnerability and the fear. He'd seen glimpses, but she usually covered it quickly...with anger...at the government and at often even at him. Mulder felt a pang of guilt as he realized that she probably wouldn't have anything to fear if it weren't for him. He was always the one dragging her into dangerous situations, running out on her half-cocked. But right then he was too content and sleepy to dwell on those things. He kissed the top of her head and tightened his arms around her. *************************** Margaret Scully knocked on the apartment door. When she got no answer, she knocked louder. She had wound up staying in D.C. with friends last night and hadn't been home. Thinking Dana had been called out on a case, she let herself into the apartment. Might as well water the plants while she was here. Maggie wandered through to the kitchen to get some water. On her way to the window, she noticed the stereo was still on and flipped it off. Dana must have really been in a hurry if she forgot to turn off the stereo. And she had left clothes lying around. How uncharacteristic. Stooping to pick up the shirt her daughter had been wearing last night, Maggie nearly tripped over a pair of shoes. Without thinking, she scooped them up, too. Only when she went to actually pour the water into the flowerpot did she notice that the pot wasn't *there*. Wrinkling her brow, Maggie set the water pitcher down and walked into the bedroom. Humming softly, she noticed the unmade bed. Maybe her daughter wasn't such a neat freak after all. She had just dumped the shirt into the hamper and gone back to the living room when the phone rang. After the second ring, the machine picked up. "Hi. You've reached Dana Scully. I'm not in right now. Leave a message." "BEEEEEP" "Dana? It's Bill. Just calling to see how you were and if you'd heard from Mom. I've been trying to call her for a couple of days and couldn't reach her...." Margaret was about to pick up the phone when she heard Dana's voice on the machine as well. "Mmmm. Bill? I'm here." There was a rustling sound as Scully tried to untangle herself from Mulder. Her elbow caught him in the jaw. "Ow, watch it, Scully." She kicked him and shot him a warning glance. "What was that?" Bill asked. "What was what, Bill?" Scully yawned again. Mulder started kissing her neck and she moaned in between her yawns. "Dana Katherine Scully! Is there a man in your apartment?" Bill's voice boomed through the apartment, and Maggie looked down at the running shoes in her hand. Definitely too big for Dana's tiny feet. Her mouth dropped open. "Bill, why are you calling me at 8:00 on a Sunday morning?" "I couldn't reach mom and *you* still haven't answered my question." "Mom was here last night and said she'd call when she got in from dinner." Scully paused. "But I never heard back from her. Listen, I'll get up and go out to the house. If she's not there, I'll call around." Margaret picked up the extension. "Bill, Dana? Calm down. I'm right here." Mulder stopped his seduction midkiss when he heard Margaret Scully's voice join the other two on the answering maching. He fumbled with it, trying to turn it off...but only succeeded in eliciting a horrible high-pitched noise from the offended machine. Scully was stunned and spoke above the squeal of the machine. "Mom? Are you in my apartment?" "Yes, I am. I knocked and when you didn't answer I thought you had been called out of town. I was going to water you plants, but well, I couldn't find them. I didn't notice you in bed when I walked through there, either." Scully's eyes widened. Her mother had been in her bedroom. Shit shit shit. "I'll tell you about the plants later, Mom. I'm going to hang up and let you talk to Bill for a while. Talk to you soon, Bill." She turned to Mulder and saw his sheepish grin. "I feel like I've gotten caught with my hand in the cookie jar." "You," Scully said pointedly, "have gotten caught with much more than your hand in the cookie jar, Mister." Her tone was light and teasing. How could she be so teasing when her mother--her very *Catholic* mother--was in the next room? Scully knew she needed to think fast, but Mulder was just irresistible with his hair sticking up all over the place and looking all frantic. She leaned in and nipped at his shoulder with her teeth. "Naughty child, were you, Mulder?" She trailed her mouth to his neck. "If you only knew, Scully. If you only knew." She was kissing his ear now and he was having a lot of trouble thinking clearly. "Um, Scully? What about your mom?" She remained undaunted. "Do you think she'll leave if we keep quiet? Maybe she'll think I went back to sleep." Mulder couldn't pass up the opportunity. "We'd probably have more luck getting rid of her if we were really loud, Scully." That got her attention. "You are sick, Fox William Mulder. Very sick. That's my *mother* in the next room." She glared at him. "Hey, I'm not the one who instigated this whole thing, Scully. If I recall, *you* were kissing *my* neck just now." He pulled her down so he could mimic her actions from a moment ago. "This jog your memory, Agent Scully?" Scully jerked away from him, breathing heavily, and slipped on some clothes. "Don't you move, Mulder. I'm going to get rid of my mother." Mulder stretched. "I'm not going anywhere. Could you smuggle me some food? I'm starved." Scully told him to eat some toothpaste or something. ***************************** Closing the bedroom door behind her, Scully looked at her mother. "Mom?" Maggie was just hanging up the phone. "Hi, sweetie. I'm sorry to have woken you up." "You didn't. Bill did, remember? I swear, he thinks just because he gets up at the crack of dawn, everyone does." "So...what happened to your plants?" Scully looked a little guilty. "They did't make it, Mom. So, how was your dinner?" "Fine; I ended up staying at Betsy's because it was so late. how was *your* dinner?" Maggie's voice was a little too casual. "Fine. Made Mulder do the dishes. I now have complete place settings for two fewer people." That got a smile from Maggie. "How is Fox?" "Oh, you know. He's Mulder." Scully yawned. Why wouldn't the woman leave? "Dana, Bill seems to think you have a man in your apartment." "Mom, the only men who have been in my apartment in months are Mulder and the plumber; and I don't go for men whom I met while they were plunging my toilet." Scullly walked back to the living room and noticed Mulder's boxers hanging over the edge of a chair. She jerked them up and threw them behind the couch. She kicked his t-shirt and sweat pants under the armchair. She had to get her mother out of here...FAST. Mulder's shoes should have been around here somewhere. Maggie shrugged. "I told Bill he was probably overreacting. Do you want to go for breakfast?" Dana shrugged and yawned. "No, I guess I'd better stay around here and clean up the mess I've made before I actually *do* get called out." And what a mess it was... "All right. Well, are you still coming out this afternoon?" Scully nodded. "Good, see if you can't bring Fox along." "Okay, Mom." "Why don't you call him now?" Maggie suggested in an almost challenging voice. "Mother, I am not calling Mulder's apartment at 8:30 a.m. on a weekend. God only knows what's been going on over there." Okay, that was true...Mulder certainly hadn't been home to know what had been going on. Sheesh, this was getting thick. "Okay. Well, see you later then. Oh, honey, your lamp's overturned." Maggie set the lamp upright. "There." She turned as she opened the door. For the first time, Scully noticed the running shoes in her hand. Oh, God. "Ooops, here. I think your plumber forgot his shoes the last time he was here." Scully felt herself blush and glanced toward the bedroom door, taking the shoes. Margaret looked at her daughter. "Go back to bed, Dana. You look rather anxious to do so anyway." Scully swore under her breath. Damn Mulder for letting her face this alone. He was going to have hell to pay.... ***** end prologue. From hughekd@okra.millsaps.edu Fri Jul 12 05:21 EST 1996 Received: from okra02.millsaps.edu by everest.eng.ohio-state.edu (8.6.12/3.910501) id FAA15765; Fri, 12 Jul 1996 05:21:47 GMT Received: by okra.millsaps.edu (MX V4.2 VAX) id 5; Fri, 12 Jul 1996 00:21:34 -0500 Date: Fri, 12 Jul 1996 00:21:33 -0500 From: KRISTIE HUGHES To: juodvalk Message-ID: <009A5310.8B94ADC0.5@okra.millsaps.edu> Subject: The Persistence of Memory -- (1/15) Content-Type: text Content-Length: 11352 Status: O Disclaimer: characters contained herein belong to another force (cc, 1013 & those people.) no infringement intended Category: MSR this is your relationship warning Rating: i don't know. who needs ratings? Time span: may/june 2011 Author's notes: i still may add a second part to the prologue, taking into consideration all the feedback and suggestions. enjoy. (by the way...i'm having the worst day--my checkbook wandered off without me, the season finale was a letdown for me, and my modem ate this story the first time i typed it.) so very annoyed. comments are welcomed and encouraged. The Persistence of Memory: Part 1 by Kristie Hughes *********************************** 21 May 2011 Brett shifted the backpack on her shoulder as she waited for the elevator doors to open. Thank god it was finally summer vacation. If she had to wear this damn blue uniform for one more day she thought she would drop out of school. Now if only she could convince her parents to let her actually *do* something this summer. The secretary looked up as the elevator dinged. "Hi, Brett. Why aren't you in school?" Lea asked cautiously. This kid had a knack for getting into trouble, she knew. But that was really no wonder, considering who her parents were. "Today was the last day, remember?" She dropped the bookbag to the ground with a thud and motioned towards the offices behind Lea. "Are they in?" "Skinner's in there. Should be finished in a few minutes." "Okay. I'm going to get a Coke...you want anything?" "No, I'm okay. Just try not to upset Violent Crimes again, Brett. They're still ruffled over that science project fiasco." "Well," the petite teenager said over her shoulder, "Agent Michaels shouldn't have insisted that I *prove* to him that my bomb worked. Besides, that was two whole years ago." Shaking her head, Lea returned to the message she was composing. ********************************** The Assistant Director of the FBI rubbed his temples as he waited for the elevator. Even after all these years, those two still gave him more headaches than the rest of the Bureau combined. He was beginning to wonder why in the hell he had proposed an entirely new division--the Paranormal Phenomena and Abnormal Forensics Division--all those years ago. And why on earth *had* the Director agreed so readily? It had never occurred to Walter Skinner that as the two department heads that made up this division, Dana Scully and Fox Mulder could get into more trouble than they had those first four and a half years on the X-Files. As department heads and equals, they would have more freedom and he figured he wouldn't have to deal with them so often. Wrong again. These two just pushed the limits even farther and showed no signs of letting up. Well, at least they were taking their annual vacation for the next two and a half weeks and he wouldn't have to deal with them. Skinner couldn't help but smile as he thought of *that* vacation. Ah, poetic justice. Brett Scully-Mulder, he thought fondly. If *she* joined the Bureau, heaven help her superiors.... He wondered what was taking the elevator so long. Contemplating the stairs, the elevator dinged and he sighed gratefully. The doors slid open and there stood the devil herself, all 5' 2" of her. "Well, hello, sir." She said silkily, smiling that irresistible little smile. Thank god I didn't have daughters, he thought, looking warily at the young woman before him. "Hello, yourself, Ms. Scully-Mulder. And just where have you been...or do I even want to know?" Her hazel eyes went wide and she gave him an innocent little smile. "Oh, just looking for a Coke," she said holding up the can reverently. "Uh-huh?" he prompted. "The only problem is that the only machine working was in Violent Crimes...." she trailed off. "You should have a little talk with Agent Michaels. He just isn't very hospitable these days." Trying not to encourage her, though the wet-cat look on Michaels' face that day two years okay when Brett's science project had set off the sprinklers in his office had been well worth the damage costs, Skinner replied smoothly, "Probably just protecting his territory." The girl heaved an exaggerated sigh and said knowingly, "Insecurities." Skinner just shook his head. "Enjoy your vacation." "Yes, sir!" she saluted before dashing off to wreak havoc on her parents. Brett heard rather than saw her parents as she rounded the corner. It sounded like they were engaged in a rather lively discussion. Well, that was a very nice way of putting it. She stuck her head into the doorway of her dad's office, seeing him perched on the desk and her mom standing in the doorway that adjoined his office to hers. Before Brett could say hi, her mother noticed her and stopped midsentence. Stepping into the room cautiously and dropping her backback to the floor, Brett no longer had to wonder at the subject of *this* discussion. Dana Scully-Mulder turned towards her fifteen year old daughter, blue eyes flashing. "Where the hell have you been? School let out at 10:00 today. It's now 2:15. You were supposed to come right here, remember?" Brett took a step back, but Scully stepped forward. "Mom, I--" "You what? Can't you just for *once* do what I asked you to do? I am so tired of this, Brett. You disregard everything I say and this sort of behavior will not be tolerated." Fox Mulder looked at his wife and then to his daughter. The tension had been building between them for months. His wife's eyes were cold and her voice was even more so. She didn't yell; the control in her voice was all that much more intimidating. Brett stood her ground, hazel eyes wide, dark auburn hair falling over her shoulder. Glancing between the two, Mulder marvelled at the resemblance. His genes seemed to have run for cover in the making of Brett. So much like Scully: The same Roman nose, pouty-red lips that rarely pouted. The older woman's hair only a few shades lighter and a few inches shorter than her daughter's. But then, she had Mulder's eyes...and where Scully's skin was milky white beneath the freckles, Brett's was lightly tanned, much like his own, and rather uncommon for a redhead. Brett's voice had the same steely edge as her mother's as she shot back, "I guess you should be used to it by now. I've always been a disappointment to you.." Mulder suddenly realized that for his daughter this wasn't just about today. It went much deeper than that. He saw the girl's chin wobble slightly, though her hazel eyes never left her mother's blue ones. He hurt so much for both of them but knew this was something they had to work through. He'd been playing the go between way too often these past few months. Scully looked as if she'd been slapped. Maybe she'd misunderstood what Brett had said. But before she got the chance to ask, Brett turned and stalked out of the office. Still flustered, Scully didn't know what to do. She started to follow the younger woman but nearly tripped over the bag at her feet. ******************************* Brett stalked through the corridor, angry tears that were threatening to fall blocking her vision. She knew that if she waited for the elevator, one or both of her parents would catch up with her, so she took the stairs and left through a side entrance. Once outside, she let out a breath she hadn't know she'd been holding, the tears finally spilling down her cheeks. She headed for the bus stop when she realized that her wallet was still in her parents' office. Looking dow at the torturous shoes (why didn't she just buy comfortable shoes? but these had been so cute at the time) she sighed and slipped them off. At least she had her house keys in her pocket. She cut through the park, the cool grass on the pads of her feet soothing her. She tried to please her mother. Really she did. But she just had a knack for screwing things up where her mother was concerned. It wasn't that her mother didn't love her, she knew she did. But Brett sensed that her mother's feelings and actions were more complex. Not only that, but Dana Scully-Mulder was an intimidating woman. She could turn that icy blue gaze on you and make you feel this big. And things had been worse since Brett's vanishing act. Brett still felt the whole thing had been surreal. She couldn't remember much, except for an extreme headache and dizziness. It was like three months had passed in a sudden flash of sensory deprivation. She had been walking home from school one minute thinking that a major headache was coming on, and the next she had been in the middle of some damn corn field. That was it. Nothing terribly traumatic for her. She'd just walked until she found a phone, called collect, gotten Lea on the line and asked to speak to one of her parents. Her mom had come on the line sounding tired. "Uh, hi Mom. It's me. I think I've gotten myself into some kind of trouble," she'd said. No response. "Uh, Mom? Don't be mad," she ventured bravely, not knowing how she'd even gotten here, but figuring her mother was about as mad at her as she'd ever been--except for the time she'd cut the heels off of twelve pairs of Scully's dress shoes to use as peg legs for her neighborhood presentation of 'The Pirate Prodigy' when she was six. She heard muffled voices in the background and then someone else took the phone. She started to get impatient. She could very well be in the middle of 'Children of the Corn' here, or whatever that ancient old movie was called. "Could someone please talk to me???" she demanded. "Brett, it's Walter Skinner. Where are you?" "Um, good question. Hold on, let me see. Um, excuse me, sir...but what state is this?" The man drinking the coffee looked at her like she was crazy. "Nebraska." "Shit. How'd I end up in Nebraska. Oops, Uncle Walter? I don't think I'm in Kansas anymore....I'm in Nebraska." A couple of hours later, half of the Bureau had been there...she still got dizzy just thinking about it. She knew the legend of her aunt's abduction and that her mother had been taken for three months a couple of years before she was born. She sensed that the experience had shaken both of her parents to the core--this had probably been their worst nightmare brought to life. But for Brett, it really hadn't been that big of a deal. She didn't feel a sense of loss or of personal invasion. She still had horrible headaches and dizzy spells, which were unsettling and seemed to be getting more frequent, but other than that she was alive and trying to be normal. Whatever that meant in this family. Suddenly too tired to think, Brett let herself into their quaint two storey house and dragged herself upstairs. After a long shower, she plopped down on her bed and curled up. Why couldn't she just be four again, have her mother pull her onto her lap, kiss her, and make it all better? ******************************* end part 1. this was a bunch of lead-in stuff that had to be done. things start happening (sort of) in the next part. stay tuned. email me at hughekd@okra.millsaps.edu or khughes@msms.doe.k12.ms.us @%--<--<---- MaryKathryn S. Robinson robinson@htp.net, mksr79@aol.com founder, eXtreme Possibilities "Why *shouldn't* truth be stranger than fiction? Fiction, after all, has to make sense." - Mark Twain @%--<---<--- From hughekd@okra.millsaps.edu Fri Jul 12 05:31 EST 1996 Received: from okra02.millsaps.edu by everest.eng.ohio-state.edu (8.6.12/3.910501) id FAA15803; Fri, 12 Jul 1996 05:30:59 GMT Received: by okra.millsaps.edu (MX V4.2 VAX) id 32; Fri, 12 Jul 1996 00:30:47 -0500 Date: Fri, 12 Jul 1996 00:30:46 -0500 From: KRISTIE HUGHES To: juodvalk Message-ID: <009A5311.D53041A0.32@okra.millsaps.edu> Subject: The Persistence of Memory (2/15) Content-Type: text Content-Length: 15488 Status: O Disclaimer: Don't own them. Don't want to. Category : MSR--this is your warning if you don't like relationship stories. Rating: i dunno. you pick. some bad language. that's about it for now. Time span: may/june 2011 Summary: your guess is as good as mine....well, not really. i know what's going to happen. i'm just not going to *tell* you. and i am probably going to ignore the season finale. thanks. spoilers: possibly some third season author's notes: why can't i just telepathically type this? oh, and my checkbook is still wandering around without me. sigh...i hope it doesn't get me into trouble. did you know my bank doesn't offer checks with ufo's. i asked, they gave me a strange look and said, how do you feel about puppies. i said, do you have rottweilers? another strange look. okay, just give me whatever you've got. so...if my checkbook wanders your way, zap it back to me. comments welcomed. even negative ones. i can take it. i'm tough. The Persistence of Memory: Part 2/? -- Perspectives by oh, dear, i've forgotten this personality's name..... ******************************************************** Scully slung open the door that adjoined the garage to the kitchen, dropping her briefcase onto the bar. Noticing how eerily quiet the house was, she felt a surge of panic. Surely Brett couldn't have gotten into any trouble within the last hour. Wait, look who you're talking about here, Dana. Brett could get into trouble faster than anyone she knew....possibly even faster than Mulder could. and Scully had been having trouble even communicating with her daughter since her unexplained disappearance. She couldn't help remember her own abduction 17 years ago. Hell, she thought about it every day. The lack of resolution weighed on her subconscious constantly. Now it looked like her daughter was going to have to deal with the same thing for the rest of her life as well. Somehow, that affected Scully more deeply than did her own abduction. But with Brett, there had been no metal chip implanted on her, no unexplained medical conditions that induced a coma. For that, Scully was unbelievably relieved. But she was still scared that something could happen any day now. The worst was that this didn't seem to be affecting Brett at all. But Scully had a hard time believing that. Brett was an emotionally guarded person. She rarely let anyone know what was really going on in her head, even her parents. Scully supposed that was their fault. Neither she nor Mulder broadcast their emotions. They were affectionate, yes, but not necessarily warm. Mulder, however, gave Brett all he had...trying to make up for something that hadn't even happened yet, but he feared might happen at any time. Scully still had her doubts about the kind of mother she was. And yet they both tended to be overprotective of their only child--what with all they had seen and been through. Maybe this was just Brett's way of establishing her independence. Yeah, right. Brett was the most stubborn, independent, I-don't-need- anybody person Scully knew. She was a loner, content to hole up in her own little world of music and books and whatever else she did in her room. Without bothering to even slip off her shoes, Scully headed for the stairs, taking them two at a time. At the top, she paused, not sure what to do next. She rarely came up here, so she knocked hesitantly on the door and waited. She figured she was about the last person Brett wanted to see right now. When she got no answer, she debated what to do. "Come on, Scully. You're going to have to knock louder than that." Mulder was standing behind her. "What's the worst she can do? Besides, we're all going to be spending the next two weeks together. I don't want either of you to be miserable." Scully cast him an exasperated look and pushed the bedroom door open. She could see a small form curled up tightly on the bed. Glancing around the room, it was obvious from which parent Brett had inherited her housekeeping skills. Not a single thing was out of place. Even the bookshelves were neatly organized. Scully couldn't remember ever having to ask Brett to clean her room. She crept up to the bedside and tucked the neatly folded afghan from the bottom of the bed around her daughter, then placed Brett's backpack by the bed. "I'm not asleep." The words broke the silence, startling Scully. "So I gathered," she replied, recovering quickly. The form shifted to a sitting position, knees drawn tightly to her chest and flipped on the bedside lamp. "You're home early." Mulder spoke from the doorway. "Your mom insisted we needed the time to pack." He crossed the room and dove onto the bed, causing Brett to jostle up and down. "I told her we should have gone to a nudist colony instead of Maine, but you know how she is. It still would have taken her hours to pack all her sunscreen." "Gee, Dad. Make yourself at home." Brett said wryly. He kicked off his shoes and threw his tie across the room. "Don't mind if I do." Two identical right eyebrows arched as both mother and daughter chose not to acknowledge his humor. "Come on, Mom. Don't you want to invade my personal space as well?" Brett motioned towards the bed and glanced pointedly at Mulder. He just reached for the stereo remote. Scully couldn't decide whether she was making a point or actually issuing an invitation. Brett had this thing about personal space. But then she lifted her eyebrows and Scully as though waiting for a response. Scully sat tentatively on the edge of the bed and watched Brett and Mulder battle for control of the stereo remote. Mulder picked up a pillow and thwacked Brett over the head. The world tilted and everything got fuzzy for Brett. She suddenly felt terribly nauseated. Scully was the first to notice that something was wrong. Brett's face drained of color and the girl put her hands tightly to her head, struggling for control. "Brett, what's wrong? Are you all right?" She reached out to her, but Brett flinched at the contact and drew more tightly into a ball. Mulder scrambled into a sitting position and assessed his daughter. She looked like she was in a lot of pain. He glanced helplessly at Scully. Brett concentrated on breathing deeply and she slowly became aware of her surroundings again. Good, she was still here. She relaxed a little and swallowed hard, tears of pain brimming her eyes. She could make out her parents' shapes and cautiously lifted her head. She scooted closer and put her leaned her head into her mother's shoulder. "Momma, it hurts." Scully's arms went instinctively around her daughter. Brett unwound her arms from her knees and clutched at Scully's suit jacket. "What hurts, sweetheart?" "My head. It feels like it's going to implode, like someone has it in a vise and keeps cranking it tighter and tighter, only it won't go any tighter because at the same time something's pushing from the inside." "Okay, listen. Let me get some aspirin or something and when it lets up we'll go see Dr. Carson." "No, it won't help. Just sit with me until it lets up. It'll let up in a few minutes." Mulder fidgeted, not having anything to do but sit and watch. Was this how Scully felt when Brett shut her out? Scully felt it the moment the pain eased up. Brett's body went limp, then tension slipping away. And she released a breath she hadn't even realized she'd been holding. But still Brett didn't pull away from her, and Scully made not attempt to let her go. The small hands that had been clutching her suit jacket let go and wound themselves around Scully's back, holding tightly. Brett lifted her face out of her mother's shoulder, still a little dizzy and lightheaded. "Better?" Scully asked. A little color was coming back into Brett's face. "Yeah." She scooted out of Scully's embrace and put her hands in her lap. "Sorry." "There's nothing to be sorry about, Brett." Scully noticed that Brett wouldn't meet her eyes. "Yeah, well." Brett picked an imaginary fuzzball off of her comforter. Mulder reached out and ruffled Brett's hair, then let his hand fall to the small of Scully's back in reassurance. Scully sighed. Brett's defenses were back in place, and she figured Mulder would be the only one who could get her to talk, if she would talk at all. "Okay, Captain Kirk, what happened just now?" He called her Captain Kirk, and she called him Spock. Said the ears were a metaphor for the mind, and his was kind of warped, after all. "You talked like it happens often." Brett shot a look at her mother before answering. "Can we talk about it later? I don't feel up to it right now. I could use some tea, though." She shot another glance at Scully. Scully figured that was her cue to leave. She considered being selfish and refusing. It hurt her that Brett wouldn't talk about it with her in the room. But Brett meant more to her than her own insecurities. She started to get up, but Brett stopped her by placing one hand over her own. "Let Dad get it. He always puts in lot of cream." She glanced back to Mulder. "Do you mind? And Mom some, too?" He kissed her forehead. "Sure, I'll be right back." "No decaf!" she called after him. When he was gone she looked at Scully. "Could you close the door? I need to talk to you." A million thoughts ran through Scully's mind, none of them were good. "The headaches--they're horrible, Mom. It started the day I disappeared or whatever. I was walking hom and it just hit so suddenly. Then, after I got back....they're becoming more frequent and more intense." "Brett, you should see someone," Scully began. "I already did. I asked Dr. Carson about the headaches before and she checked it out and couldn't find a cause. And I didn't want to worry you guys, especially dad. I was always perfectly healthy. But I just knew something wasn't right...so I had Dr. Carson set up an appointment with a neurosurgeon. I saw her this morning at 11:00. That's what actually made me so late." Now Scully really felt bad about her temper tantrum earlier. "Well, what did you find out?" Scully tried to swallow the knot forming in her throat. "Nothing. Everything came back normal. But I was still unconvinced, so I brought the results with me. I thought you would be able to recognize something--if it's there--you know, maybe similar to something you've run across in a case before." Brett pulled a file out of the backpack and handed it to her mother. Scully's brow wrinkled in concentration. After a few minutes she looked back up. "I don't see anything, Brett. Nothing. I don't understand it. You've undergone all sorts of test since then, these past few months...something would have been detected if it's there." "Unless it's something never before encountered. Then we wouldn't recognize it." "But we would recognize something foreign." Scully pursed her lips and closed the file. "Listen, maybe this is a psychological reaction to the stress the disappearance put you under..." "But I told you I got the first headache right *before* it happened." "Okay. Brett? Why didn't you want your father to know about this?" She was curious why Brett had opened up to her instead. "Because I'm so confused that I can't deal with any of his theories right now." That got a smile from Scully. "Now you know how I've felt these past 19 years of my life." "Yeah, and I don't envy you one little bit." Brett smiled weakly, but it was still a smile. "The man's a raving lunatic. But we love him anyway." Scully considered that, and felt warm all over. "Yes, indeed we do. Here, put the file away. Later on, you and I can try to look at it some more. Maybe we can find a link, something that brings the headaches on...something you do, or think, or feel every time it happens." She knew Brett wouldn't rest until she found the truth about what was really going on here. Well, she got that honestly. "That is, if you want to talk to *me* about it." Brett did a double take. Was that *insecurity* in her mother's voice? Confident, cool-headed Dana Scully-Mulder? She was used to comforting her dad and his guilt through playful banter...but with her mother she didn't know where to even begin. She swung her legs off the bed to sit next to Scully. "Yes, I *do* want to talk to you. And not just about this. But it can wait. As long as we understand each other. We *do* understand each other, I think. We just don't realize it. Sometimes I think we're so much alike that it inhibits our communication. We know exactly how to push each other's buttons, you know? And that's scary. You and Dad understand each other and without even saying a word...but you're so different that you compliment each other. You fight and argue, but that's your way of working out your frustrations and fears through your differences. We fight and argue and only feed our frustrations and fears--because of our similarities. We both like to deal with things from the inside. When something upsets or oversteps a boundary we've set for ourself, it scares us to death. And then we get defensive. Then all hell really breaks loose -- in our own minds. So we struggle even harder for an outward semblance of control. Do you know what I'm saying?" Brett looked questioningly into Dana's eyes. Now it was Scully's turn to do a double take. Brett had *never* been this open. And she hadn't spoken that many words calmly to Dana in a long long time. It felt wonderful--because Scully *did* understand what her daughter was saying...and somehow she felt *understood* all at the same time. It was a feeling she had never quite felt before. Mulder had always offered her unconditional acceptance--as she had done for him. But this was new. And that her 15 year old daughter could comprehend..and articulate..something of this depth amazed Scully. Most teenagers just stayed sullen and withdrawn, figuring parents were hopeless and could never understand or be understood. But the scientific part of Brett's mind, along with her amazing intuition, had pinpointed the *reason* behind their communication problems. Scully felt a surge of belonging and in seconds found a little peace of mind in her ability to love and be loved maternally. But Scully just returned Brett's intense stare and tucked a strand of the deep auburn hair behind her daughter's ear and said, "Yeah, I know exactly what you're saying." "Good. I thought you might. Now, we'd better go see if dad's burned the kitchen down again." Scully groaned. Yes, Mulder had indeed blown up a microwave by trying to dry a pair of shorts in it once...he just hadn't considered the metal zipper on the damn things... *************************** end part 2 whew, this typing is hard work. kris hughekd@okra.millsaps.edu or khughes@msms.doe.k12.ms.us --okay, i know this is rather drawn out, and i'm leaving mulder out. i have problems with that one. i don't get father/child relationships. i have very little basis for writing about one. so feedback on how to deal with that would be greatly appreciated. i know he's bound to be incredibly apprehensive about something happening to his daughter because of his work, etc...plus the whole guilt thing. but i think he'd be the type to really give everything he had to give to a child. what do you think? @%--<--<---- MaryKathryn S. Robinson robinson@htp.net, mksr79@aol.com founder, eXtreme Possibilities "Why *shouldn't* truth be stranger than fiction? Fiction, after all, has to make sense." - Mark Twain @%--<---<--- DISCLAIMER: I checked this weekend, and I do *not* own these characters....well, at least, not those that aren't a result of my spending too much time out by the pool. CATEGORY: MSR -- If you don't like the idea of M&S married, stop now while you're still ahead. TIME SPAN: May/June 2011 RATING: Bad language.... SUMMARY: There is no such thing as a summary. AUTHOR'S NOTES: This grew out of my desire to be an only child (i went home this weekend..to three younger siblings, ranging in age from 6-17..can you tell?) This part is not very deep, and has little character development. but the plot development is pretty important. Let's play ball.... ***************** The Persistence of Memory: Part 3/? -- Awakenings by Kristie Hughes May 25 (i think) 2011 An hour and a half later, everyone's luggage was sitting by the door. Mulder was sprawled on the couch and Brett sat sideways in her favorite armchair, legs hanging over the side. "Now we can rest. I'll put the luggage in the Jeep later," Mulder promised. "Let's order pizza." Scully stood looking at them, hands on her hips. "Not so fast, space cadets. We have to go to the supermarket and pack all of that as well." Brett wrinkled her nose. "What? You're not going to make us hunt and fish for our meals?" Scully smirked. "Well, not all of them." Mulder groaned and tossed a look at Brett. "Don't look at me. I wanted to go to Jamaica, pal. Sun, sand, and guys with sexy accents....but NOOOO, Dad. You wanted family time, and now you're in for it." Mulder whined. "Yeah, but does it have to start with the supermarket?" Scully raised an eyebrow. "Stop whining and put your shoes on." "Nah, I'll stay here. Let Brett go with you. It's a woman thing. Bond, buy toiletries..." "No way!" Brett declared. "I think my headache is coming back. I'll stay here." She looked hopefully at Scully. "Forget it. Both of you. Put your shoes on and get in the car." "Slavedriver..." Brett grumbled as she stuck her feet in her soccer flops. "Robot," Mulder teased as Brett went to stand by her mother. Scully shot him a final warning glance and he stuck his feet in his running shoes and grabbed the keys. "Why don't I drive?" he offered, heading for the door. Brett grinned. "Sexist, unscrupulous *puppet*..." Oh, God. This was going to be a long trip. Scully added painkillers to her mental checklist. ************************************ Mulder was, as usual, the first one up. He looked at the gorgeous red hair splayed across the pillow next to him. He tightened his arm around her waist and pulled her up against him, kissing her neck. "Rise and shine, sleepyhead." Scully groaned, twisted around, and buried her face in Mulder's chest. "Mulder, it's still dark outside." "Yeah, but we don't want to get stuck in the morning traffic." She let her hand trail down his chest and ran a finger around the top of his boxers. She felt his sharp intake of breath. "Couldn't we just stay in bed a little while longer?" she breathed into his ear. Mulder grabbed her and rolled over onto his back, pulling her tightly against him so she could feel just how much he wanted to stay in bed. She propped her elbows on his chest and put her knees on either side of his hips. "Go ahead, Mulder. Try to get up," she suggested, kissing his chest. He tried to raise up, but she pressed her hips down into his. Mulder groaned. Oh, hell, the traffic couldn't be that bad. He flipped her over quickly and settled between her legs. "But Mulder, what about the traffic?" she teased innocently. "What traffic?" he asked, slipping the jersey she slept in over her head. "I think you know what traffic, mister." Mulder couldn't think straight anymore. "Fuck the traffic, Scully." Scully had his complete attention and she loved it. "Well, I was thinking more along the lines of my husband, but after I finish here, maybe we could try it in traffic." **************************************** Brett felt the headache coming and tried to tuck herself tightly into a ball and tried to wake up fully. These headaches were different and they scared her to death. They were more of a dull ache followed by the strange sensation that she was floating and the world around her was coming apart. Because right before she blacked out, she always saw fragments of her room or wherever she was, like the molecules had just suddenly rearranged themselves. Her best guess was that she was losing her mind. And then she would wake up and be somewhere else. Sometimes she would was up and be in another part of the house, or her neighborhood. But once she had even woken up on the beach...she thought she had dreamed it because the next thing she knew she was back in her room. But there had been sand on her feet and her t-shirt was wet. She had decided that she was either doing some major sleepwalking or...or what? She was clinically insane? She knew one thing. This was something she had to figure out on her own. Her mother would think she needed counseling and her father would suggest something nuts. Brett was able to see again, as the molecules seemed to put themselves back together. To her dismay she realized she was not at home...but where was she? She looked at her watch. As usual, it was blinking. Every time this happened, her watch reset itself. Frustrated, she tried to figure out where she was. Hmmm...dark corridor, smells clean. She used the light on her watch to find a doorway and a lightswitch. No windows anywhere. She recognized the place. She was standing in the basement of the FBI headquarters in the middle of the night, wearing her nightshirt. Wonderful. She started to laugh. Wait, didn't her parents share an office here a long time ago? Opening the door immediately to her left, she stepped inside and tried the light. Eeeew, gross. It didn't look like anyone had worked in here for years. There were cobwebs everywhere. Brett noticed a small box wedged between a filing cabinet and the wall and picked it up. She lifted the top. Inside were pictures and memos. Brett pulled out a picture and looked at it. Her mother wearing a navy blue suit, covered it mud, looking extremely pissed. Next, her father in a pair of red Speedo's. That made Brett laugh. Her parents on the deck of some boat, at her grandmother Scully's house, in front of a small Christmas tree in some tacky hotel room. In almost every picture they looked totally absorbed in each other. Brett knew what what trying to tap into that absorption was like. Her parents had a form of communication so highly evolved that no one else could touch it. And if you were on the outside looking in at one of their more intense moments, it could leave you feeling empty and cold. She turned one over that really caught her eye. Her parents were walking together, it seemed, and someone must have snapped a picture. Her father's hand was on the small of Scully's back; both had on the standard FBI trenchcoats. Scully's eyebrows were cocked at Mulder in that typical way she seemed to have reserved just for him, and he looked as if he were midsententce. But what was that on the end of the leash? She squinted at the little furball. It was a damned dog. She'd always wanted a dog, but her parents had consistently put their collective feet down, so to speak. No pets, they'd said. Not even a fish. The picture was dated 4/24/96. Huh, that was only six months before she was born. Written in her mother's handwriting was M,S & Queequeg. Queequeg?!? Had to have been her mother's idea. Personally, she thought Moby Dick was boring but it had always put her right to sleep after a nightmare. The other contents of the box were more pictures and strange little nonsensical notes from one parent to the other. Brett wished she could take them home with her. All at once, the dull ache returned and she wondered where she would wake up this time. At least she wouldn't have to try and explain to the night guard how she'd gotten there. He'd call her parents for sure. ******************************** She looked around as her vision cleared again. Hey, she thought, I'm getting good at this. Brett was standing in her room again. The bedside clock said 5:40. It was dark out, so it must've been 5:40 in the morning. Oh, hell. Her mother was standing only three feet away, looking frantic. "Searching my room for automatic weapons?" Brett spoke from behind Scully. "Shit. You scared the hell out of me. How'd you get in here? I was worried about where you were. I came in to wake you up and you weren't here." Brett took a chance on just how long her mother had been in the room. She knew it had been 4:50 when she had looked at the clock right before she zapped out of here. "I've been right here, Mom." Scully tossed her a funny look and checked the windows to see if they were locked. Whether it was to see if Brett had been climbing in and out or just to see if the house was secure, she didn't know. "Oh, I guess I didn't see you when I came in. What's in the box?" Only then did Brett notice she had actually brought the box with her. That was weird. "Uh, just something I found. I'll show you on the trip. When are we leaving?" "Twenty minutes, all right?" "Yeah, I'm going to take a quick shower and I'll be right down." Brett's knees still felt wobbly. Scully smiled. "This is going to be fun, don't you think?" Brett hoped she was smiling; she couldn't really tell. "Definitely." She just hoped she didn't zap out of the car during the roadtrip. Would that make her an X-File? ********* end part 3 email hughekd@okra.millsaps.edu or khughes@msms.doe.k12.ms.us with any comments, questions, or complaints. @%--<--<---- MaryKathryn S. Robinson robinson@htp.net, mksr79@aol.com founder, eXtreme Possibilities "Why *shouldn't* truth be stranger than fiction? Fiction, after all, has to make sense." - Mark Twain @%--<---<--- From hughekd@okra.millsaps.edu Fri Jul 12 05:47 EST 1996 Received: from okra03.millsaps.edu by everest.eng.ohio-state.edu (8.6.12/3.910501) id FAA15867; Fri, 12 Jul 1996 05:47:37 GMT Received: by okra.millsaps.edu (MX V4.2 VAX) id 38; Fri, 12 Jul 1996 00:47:25 -0500 Date: Fri, 12 Jul 1996 00:47:25 -0500 From: KRISTIE HUGHES To: juodvalk Message-ID: <009A5314.28406080.38@okra.millsaps.edu> Subject: The Persistence of Memory (4/15) Content-Type: text Content-Length: 8172 Status: O From: Kristie Hughes DISCLAIMER: mom, i didn't do it. i promise. nope, wrong one. officer, it's not a real gun. nope, that's not it either. look, i don't own them. CATEGORY: MSR RATING: who needs censorship? TIME SPAN: May/June 2011 SUMMARY: life is a mere summary; deal with it. AUTHOR'S NOTES: this meeting will now come to order. i wish i didn't have to be an adult. this is getting absurd. they make things so very difficult. you all know who *they* are... The Persistence of Memory: Part 4/? -- Gatorbait by me ********************************************************** May 26 2011 (have i lost time yet?) Around nine a.m. Brett was getting bored. Why couldn't they have flown to Maine? She loved flying, her father could care less, but her mother positively abhorred it. She'd gone through tons of cd's on her walkman, half a science fiction novel and half a book of logic puzzles. She huffed unconsciously and took her headphones off. Her father was still driving and he had a tendency to speed up then slow down quite a bit with no warning. It was really starting to grate on Brett's nerves. She noticed her mother was awake now and decided to have a little fun with them. "Hey, you guys?" "Hmm?" Her mother looked up from her own book of logic. "Yeah?" Mulder looked at her in the rearview mirror. She undid her seatbelt and scooted to the middle so she could lean between them. "How long did you know each other before you slept together?" Mulder looked uncomfortable. He tried to pretend he didn't understand. "Our fourth case together we got stuck with one motel room with only one bed, so we shared it." "No, that doesn't count." Brett pursed her lips. "I meant how long before you had sex." Mulder choked on his tea. Brett smirked. Scully shot him *the* look, but still didn't give Brett a glance. Instead, she X-ed something else in her logic book and never batted an eye. "Two years, nine months, and twenty-five days." Mulder gave her a look. Brett was impressed. Her mother was difficult to ruffle. So she pressed harder. "How long after that until you found out you were pregnant with me?" "A year and a half." Brett did another round of mental arithmetic. "Wait, it took you four months to figure out you were pregnant???" "No, only two. You were almost two months early, remember?" "Oh, yeah." She pulled out the picture of her parents and the little dog and shoved it under Scully's nose. "April 24 1996. So I guess I actually *did* have a dog, if you count the gestation period, huh?" "Brett, where did you find *this*??" Scully exclaimed. She produced the box. "In here." Mulder looked curious. Scully looked giddy. "Mulder, this is the box we couldn't find when we changed offices..." "All the pictures and stuff?" he glanced over...taking the steering wheel with him. Both women yelled. "Hey, you watch the road!" "So, where did you find this? We've looked for these for years!" "Behind a file cabinet in your old basement office." "Well, at least some good has come from her unharnessed curiosity," Mulder muttered and followed with something that sounded suspiciously like 'boarding school may have been the better bet' to Brett. Mulder wouldn't have traded the time he'd spent with Brett for anything, but he had enough to worry about trying to deal with work in such a way that wouldn't put her in any unnecessary danger without having to deal with her own penchant for finding trouble. Scully had once suggested boarding school, but he had blown his top and she had never mentioned it again. Scully spent the next hour telling Brett the stories behind the photos and memos. "So...what about the dog?" Brett urged. "It's kind of cute." "Poor Queequeg," was all Scully said. "Oh, way to go, Captain Kirk. Let's rehash that, shall we?" Mulder sounded perturbed. Scully shot him a warning glance. Mulder continued. "The beloved Queequeg met an unfortunate and premature demise." Scully exploded. "The dog was eaten by an alligator in the middle of a *fucking* swamp only days after this picture was taken." Mulder picked it up from there. "I was a real jerk. I dragged Scully out on a boat only a few minutes after that and it sank and we got stuck on a rock in the middle of the lake." Then he started laughing. Scully couldn't help herself and so did she. "But really we were only feet from shore but didn't know it." "So, looking all wet and pathetic, she hauled off and chewed me out. I felt like a complete ass. She cut me off completely until the day she found out she was pregnant with you," Mulder said still laughing. "Sexually?" Brett couldn't resist. Her parents just laughed harder. "*Completely*," Mulder managed. Mulder and Scully thought back to how careful they had been about their relationship until they found out about Brett's imminent arrival... *************************************** Pizza joint, a couple of hours later. Her Parents had finally worked their way to present day and were now asking Brett about school this past year. "Not worth talking about. Next question." Brett took another bite of her pizza. Scully wondered why Brett hated school so much. She made all A's and both parents knew she probably got bored...but still. "No, really, Brett. We want to hear about it." Mulder chimed in. "Look, the kids are snotty, spoiled, and superficial. They think I'm more than a little weird...add that to the fact that I skipped a grade (She should have just finished her freshman instead of sophomore year.)...and I've already finished two years of calculus and physics...and top it off with the fact that my parents are the modern-day equivalent of the Ghostbusters. You can take it from there." Scully's eyebrows shot up. "Whoa...that's more than we've heard from you about school in years. Maybe the fresh air is getting to you. We have to get you out of the smog more often. Where's my tight-lipped daughter? What have you done with her?" Then she smiled sympathetically. "That bad, huh?" "No, not bad. Just exasperating. It wouldn't be much better in a public school...although you guys know how I feel about that silly little uniform...even if I hadn't skipped a grade. It's just boring, that's all. I have a few good friends. You know that. And that's better than ten or twenty superficial acquaintances any day." "So, if you're so bored in class, what do you do all day?" Mulder hated being bored himself. "I pick up the other kid's thoughts." Boy, she's weird, Scully thought. Must take after her Mulder in that area. Mulder, of course, was now completely hooked. "What do you mean? You imagine what they might be thinking?" Brett tried to explain it. "No, it's like, you know how sometimes it's like you can hear what another person thinks." He looked at her again. "No, explain it to me." "You know, like a movie where you can hear what someone's thinking, but they aren't actually speaking. Like a voice-over or something. If I get bored enough to let my mind completely drift, I can feel their thoughts. I practice it when I don't feel like listening." Hey, Scully thought. She's a little crazy like her father, too. "And you wouldn't believe the things some people think in the middle of a Shakespeare lecture," Brett continued. "So...it's psychic?" Mulder pressed. Both Brett and Scully raised an eyebrow at him. "Don't be absurd, Dad. You know what I'm saying. Besides, psychic abilities are a myth created out of humankind's basic need to feel connected to and understood by their environment." She pushed her plate away. "I'm full." Mulder wasn't done with her, however. "So, what am I thinking now?" Brett groaned. Scully sighed. "That you want a refill on your iced tea while we wait for the check." "Hey, how'd you know that?" Brett huffed. "That's not pscychic. You rattled your ice unconsciously, pushed your plate away, and glanced at the waitress. That's called being observant, Mr. That's why they put the 'I' in the FBI." Scully grinned, and Mulder looked a little perturbed. This was actually fun. Brett could give as good as she got from Mulder. ********* end part 4 From: Kristie Hughes Date: Wed, 22 May 1996 01:12:10 -0500 Subject: The Persistence of Memory: Part 5/? -- Voices DISCLAIMER: um, mr. carter? do these weirdos belong to you? i thought so. i'll give them back soon. CATEGORY: MSR RATING: whatever. TIME SPAN: MAY/JUNE 2011 AUTHOR'S NOTES: none. ******************************** The Persistence of Memory: Part 5/? -- Voices Brett was lost in thought. Something her father had said in the restaurant hit home. Not that she believed in psychic abilities, but she had a lot to piece together in her life and head right now and being open minded may help. Sometimes getting another person's thoughts made her head hurt. Especially if the 'signal' was really strong and she tried to block it out. The sensation right before one of those mind splitting headaches was similar to waht she felt when she tried not to feel someone's thoughts--only much much stronger. When the headaches hit, she had trouble getting a grasp on her own thoughts. She felt like her entire being was suffering an invasion, not just her mind. Then it clicked. That was what had happened the day she disappeared. She had been feeling small thoughts for a while, but that day she had felt like it was happening, yet there was no one around to 'hear' or whatever. It hadn't occurred to her to try to fight the sensation as she did now. She had just given herself over to the thoughts...about what? What was it she had thought before the dull headache had caused her vision to split? Oh, right, thanks, crop circles. And then she had blacked out and woken up in a corn field. Shit! There was a connection. Okay, just think. "Dad?" "Yeah?" He looked up from the map. "The map's upside down." "Thanks." "You're welcome." Scully was driving, humming along to a country song. Gross. Why did she listen to that? "Anyway, are there any crop circles in Nebraska?" "They're all throughout the midwest." "Okay." "Why?" Uggghhh. Why wouldn't he just shut up so she could think? "Just curious." "Hmm...think you're abduction was a covert mission involving crop circles?" "Disappearance, Father. Disappearance." What a creep he could be. "Semantics, Daughter. Semantics." She was just like Scully sometimes. Scully smiled a little, enjoying the interaction. "Mulder, which exit?" He tried to look at the map and sighed. "This one," he guessed. "No," Brett corrected. "Not this one. It's the next one." Brett sat back. Okay, now where was she? Oh, yes. Corn fields. So now she tried to block out the sensations...it resulted in extreme pain, but she didn't black out when she blocked them, or wake up somewhere else. So...when *did* these other instances, this...God, what was the word she was looking for? She was going to regret this, but she had to ask. "Mom? You missed the exit." "Dammit, Mulder. Stop messing with that bleeping map and pay attention." "Mom, Dad?" "Hmmmm?" "What's it called, like, when a person can transport themselves somehwere by just thinking it or whatever?" Mulder gave her a funny look. "Wishful thinking, Brett?" She stared at him blankly. "Huh?" "Wishing you were somewhere else right now?" "Whatever. Mom, you know what I'm talking about?" "Teleporting?" "Yeah, I think that's it. Thanks." Mulder twisted around, interested. "Brett, what are you doing back there?" He tried to get a glimpse of the notebook she was writing in. "Just writing." "Can I read it." Brett threw him an annoyed look. "No, you cannot read it." "Come on, let me read it; please?" "No, stop whining. It's unattractive in a federal agent." She returned to her analysis of the situation. Okay, she 'teleported' only when she was sleeping or just on the verge of sleep. Why? "Dad, stop staring at me." "I'm not." "You are. Turn around and help mom drive." Scully was in a world of her own. "Don't need no help from a whiney FBI agent." "Come on, just let me read it." "No!" "Then tell me what it's about..." He looked so pitiful when he stuck out his bottom lip. Brett tightened her mouth and widened her eyes. This was really getting annoying. "No...now turn around and find something else to do. You're giving me a headache." Mulder remembered last night's incident. He still felt a little guilty about that, like it was his fault because he hit her with that pillow. His shoulders slumped and he turned around. "I'm sorry." Brett sighed. She hadn't meant to upset him or hurt his feelings. This would have to wait until she was alone. She closed the notebook, undid her seatbelt, and slid over to the seat directly behind Mulder's. She stepped on the lever that adjusted the seat and Mulder plopped backwards so that she could lean onto the back of his seat and talk to him directly. Mulder jumped when he fell backwards, but settled down again. "Can we go repelling off of a mountain while we're here?" Brett asked him. He sort of grunted. She hooked one arm around his neck. "If you must know, I'm writing a fact-based fiction novel that will make me rich and famous and I'm going to sell government secrets to Libya and become a Jewish princess and move to Jamaica and live in sin with some man with a sexy accent--but not necessarily in that order. However, my editor is insecure, my Libyan contact is paranoid, my rabbi is always drunk, and my Jamaican lover fears his life ending prematurely at the hands of an overprotective father. I tell you, Dad, my life is a mess. I have to be careful not to upset anyone." Scully snorted with laughter. God, this kid was nuts. And Mulder was trying hard to remain unamused. But he almost grinned. "I think you could help, though," Brett suggested in a devilish voice. "How so?" Mulder tried not to play along, but Brett's humor was infectious. "Well, my Jamaican lover and I have been experimenting with birth control. I need a man's perspective. I've already discussed it with mom." Mulder shot Scully a murderous look and she howled with laughter. Brett had him distracted, all right. "That's it," he muttered. "You're going to an all girl's, Catholic boarding school where there's a psychiatrist on hand." "In Jamaica?" Brett asked hopefully. "No," Mulder ground out. "Not is Jamaica." Brett sighed. "That's all right. Any Caribbean island will do." Mulder swatted playfully at her and ended up whopping her upside the head. He craned his neck to see if she was all right. He didn't want a repeat performance of last night. "God, Brett, I'm sorry. Did I hurt you." She leaned in and kissed him quickly on his cheek. "You could never hurt me, Daddy." Mulder looked unconvinced and returned to his brooding. "Dad, it wasn't your fault, you know." No response. "I could feel it coming a long time before you guys came in. That's why I was lying in bed to begin with. I was trying to fight it off...it works for a little while, but then when it does hit, fighting it only makes it that much more intense. I don't know what causes them, but they are worse when I'm really tired. You had nothing to do with it." Still no response. "Damn it. Don't do this to me." She was close to yelling now. "Don't close yourself off from me and get all caught up in guilt that is completely unfounded. I need you right now, and I'm trying to open up here." Brett's voice sounded suspiciously wobbly even to her own ears. Scully had already pulled the Cherokee over, but to Brett it still felt like it was moving. She opened the door and jumped out. Please, please not now. If she had one of those headaches now, or worse yet, disappeared, that would only make things that much worse. She walked until she couldn't see the Jeep any longer. God, she felt nauseous. Uggh, she did NOT want to throw up. But that would help the headache. Everyone got headaches when they needed to throw up. Scully looked at Mulder. He looked pretty shaken up himself. She couldn't decide what to do. She was worried about Brett, but Mulder needed her, too. He rarely ever argued with Brett and seemed to be taking this pretty rough. Mulder turned to look at her. "You go get her. I'll wait here." "Mulder, listen--" "Scully, I'm fine. Just go." She sighed and squeezed his hand a little. "I'll be right back." She found Brett leaning against a tree. From the looks of things, she had lost more than just her lunch. She looked like she'd lost her best friend. "I'm okay, Mom." Scully put an arm around her as they walked back. "Brett, you know how he gets when he blames himself. If someone he loves is hurting and he can't fix it, then somehow in his mind, it's his fault." "I know." Mulder was leaning against the vehicle, kicking at the tire when he heard them. He got back into his seat and closed the door. Scully got in the driver's seat and waited for Brett to get in. Instead of opening the back door, Brett opened the door Mulder had just closed. She stepped awkwardly i so that her feet were hanging out the door and sat in Mulder's lap, wrapping her arms around him. After a minute, Mulder put his arms around her. "Do you remember how much trouble I had saying 'vernacular' when I was little? But you just kept on saying it for me, never losing your patience. I'd try to repeat it and get so frustrated I'd almost be in tears. Then when I finally learned to say it, I walked around telling you guys, 'Please speak in the vernacular. I have a limited vocabulary.' until mom was ready to throttle me." She spoke into his shoulder. "Yeah, I remember." Mulder kissed her forehead. "Me, too." Mulder gave her another squeeze before she hopped out and went around to her mother's door. Scully looked at her expectantly. "My turn to drive." Scully grinned at her. "Get in the back, brat." "Control freak," Brett said and stuck out her tongue as she got back into her designated seat. "Hey, who's up for twenty questions?" ***************** end part 5. email khughes@msms.doe.k12.ms.us or hughekd@okra.millsaps.edu ------------------------------ From: Kristie Hughes Date: Sun, 26 May 1996 04:03:56 -0500 Subject: The Peristence of Memory: Part 6/? -- Isn't it Ironic? Don't you think? okay, i don't think this sent the first time, so ignore this if you already got this part. sorry it's been so long in coming, guys! DISCLAIMER: i do not own m,s,skinner, or anyone else that i borrowed without permission. CATEGORY: iwillnotgothroughthiswholethingagainyouguysgetthepicturei'msurebynow. AUTHOR'S NOTES: none. ***************************** The Persistence of Memory: Part 6/? -- Isn't it Ironic? Don't you think? by kris Brett glanced at her watch. Her father drove like a bat out of hell. It was only 3:00 and they were already near Portland. Of course, they were going at least three more hours before stopping in the middle of nowhere for two weeks. Brett was sitting in the passenger seat next to Mulder; Scully was sort of curled up on the back seat sleeping soundly. "Mom can sleep anywhere, can't she?" He looked in the rearview mirror and smiled. "Pretty much. She used to drool on me during stakeouts." Brett rubbed her eyes. "Must be nice." She seemed to have Mulder's chronic inability to sleep for extended periods of time. And these recent episodes were not helping matters at all. "Are you not sleeping well?" He looked concerned. "As well as I usually do. But that's not saying too much." "I know how that feels," he said. "I though you just didn't sleep *much*...not that you had trouble sleeping." He considered that. "I sleep better now than I did before I lived with Scully. She sort of has a calming effect on me." Brett gave him a disbelieving look. "Well, if you're calmer now, I'd have hated to have known you then." The sat in comfortable silence before Brett spoke again. "Dad?" "Hmmm?" "Do you really want to send me to boarding school?" "Brett, I was teasing. You know I want you around so I can see that smiling face all the time," he said lightly. Yeah, like she smiled a lot. Brett frowned unconsciously. "Does mom?" "Does mom what?" Sighing, she shifted in her seat to face him. "Want me around?" Mulder looked startled. "Brett, your mom loves you, how can you doubt that--" "Dad, what I asked has nothing to do with whether or not she loves me, which I am sure she does. What I mean is, does she regret having me?" Brett looked solemn and curious. "Why do you ask such touch questions, Brett?" He knew he wouldn't get away with evading the question or lying to her. He looked to make sure Scully was still asleep. "Sometimes your mother doesn't allow herself to have, or fully enjoy, the things she wants most because she is afraid of the hurt she may suffer at the expense of those things." Brett considered that. "But she can't live her life never letting go and enjoying what she has. At some point, we all have to realize that the greatest truth about life is its unpredictablility...and it's irony." She paused. "It bothers me because I know mom and I can only ever be so close; I guess that's because deep down, we aren't sure we're strong enough to let go of the control that would have to be sacrificed for us to be any closer." Mulder tried to refute her logic, but he couldn't. There was always going to be some part of Scully that she kept hidden from everyone, even him--although he came closer than anyone. And with Brett, he knew there was a wealth of passion and enthusiasm, much like his own, that she would never allow herself to tap into. So he tried a different tactic. "What do you mean about unpredictability and irony being the greatest truth?" "Just that we strive so hard for control, to protect ourselves from what we fear most...only to realize that some force unknown to us had other plans that life as we know it hasn't prepared us for." She said this in a listless voice, like it was a truth in itself. "I know what you mean." Mulder thought about how ironic life really was. He had always tried to give Brett what his father could't give him: the belief that his actions and desires mattered, that he could be effective and change the world. If anything, he'd wanted to shield Brett from the feelings of futility, like those he'd felt when Samantha had been abducted. But it seemed like Brett already knew how little control people really have over their lives, in spite of his efforts. Well, you have to believe what you teach for it to be effective. Brett spoke again. "But I think it all depends on how you define control. We may not be able to stop things from happening, but we can look for reasons and try to understand how and why. We can't just let life happen to us, not do anything." Mulder thought about how much like Scully she was for the thousandth time that day. Every now and then, the floodgates opened and she would let him glimpse the world through her eyes. "So...where does our conversation about Scully fit into all of this? I want to know what I can do to reassure you." Brett gave him a funny look before answering. "Don't you get it, Dad? I don't think I'm the one who needs reassurance. I know I'm loved. Maybe Mom doesn't." Mulder looked blank. Scully was just too self-confident to need reassurance. But then, he thought back to how different she was from that very first case in Oregon. The wonder and excitement had slowly been overshadowed by caution and fear. She'd pretty much sacrificed her innocence for their life together. He found himself in a position he'd never been in before: looking to his daughter for answers--and perhaps reassurance of his own. "Doesn't know she's loved by you or me?" "I would think a little of both. But it would probably be more effective from you. She probably has never really reconciled herself with the fact that you did for me what you could never do for her." "What???" was all he could manage. She had lost him somewhere. ""Before I was born, your search for the truth and to find Samantha took precedence over everything. Mom couldn't get you to waver in that quest, even if it put your life--or hers--on the line. But once I was born, you had more to be responsible for, I guess. You've never put my life on the line that way." Brett yawned and looked at her watch. "Are you saying I see Scully's life as an acceptable risk? Because that is absurd; I'd be nothing without her." "I know that; and deep down, so does she. But it couldn't hurt to hear it every now and then, Dad." She looked out the window. "God, it really is beautiful up here." ***************** end part 6. khughes@msms.doe.k12.ms.us or hughekd@okra.millsaps.edu ------------------------------ From: Kristie Hughes Date: Sun, 26 May 1996 01:43:04 -0500 Subject: The Persistence of Memory: Part 7/? -- Appearances DISCLAIMER: as usual, i don't own mulder or scully. ******************* The Persistence of Memory: Part 7/? -- Appearances by kris "Brett, try to wake your mom. We're going to stop in Bangor." Mulder startled Brett out of her reverie. "From there, it's only an hour and a half to the cabin, okay?" "Maybe you should se the clocks forward, Dad. When she finds out it's only 5:00 and we're already in Bangor, you're going to catch hell." She twisted around in her seat. "Mom? Dad says wake up. We're stopping in Bangor." Scully sat up and looked around. "We're in Bangor already? Mulder, how fast have you been driving?" She stretched and sat forward. "Did you sleep any, Brett?" "Nah, I gave up sleeping for Lent. Felt so good, I never started back." Not that they were religious, but it seemed like an easy way to evade parental concern. Mulder parked the Cherokee and they got out. Brett looked down the street. It was weird. "Why did we stop here?" "I needed to walk a while. Let's check out some of these shops." They walked a while before stopping in front of a pet store. Scully looked at the little puppy in the window. "Maybe we should get a dog." Mulder shuddered. "Yuk, no, let's get a cat, if anything. Brett, what do you think?" Brett tore her eyes away from the gypsy woman sitting in the middle of the sidewalk just ahead of them. "Sarah has a cat. It makes me sneeze. And it coughs up hairballs." She wandered off down the sidewalk towards the woman, who was draped in loose clothing and strange jewelry. The woman glanced up sharply as she felt Brett's approach. "I've been waiting for you, Brett." How did this woman know her name? Brett looked intently into the woman's eyes and dropped down onto the sidewalk in front of her, crossing her legs 'Indian style'. Brett felt like her senses had all been heightened, and felt a tingling along her spine. The woman held out her hand, producing a ring. "Wear this. You'll understand later." Brett took the ring and slipped it on. She didn't wear jewelry, ever. Looking at the woman, she spoke. "You know, don't you?" The woman gave a half-smile. She had beautiful red hair that cascaded down her back in wild curls. "I know, but I do not fully understand. Only you can do that." Brett had the strange feeling that she knew this woman. "What do I do? How do I know if I'm getting it right?" "Don't fear your powers, Brett. Don't try to hide from this. The only way to control what is happening is to give into it." She paused for a moment. "There is another like you. She was here before you. But the powers are useless to you both unless you work together. She needs you; you have to be her guide." Brett arched her eyebrow. "This is *crazy*. Surely you realize how unbelievable this all sounds. Everything that's happening seems to defy logic, not to mention the fundamental laws of physics. It's impossible." The woman laughed then, a lilting sound that reminded Brett of windchimes. She leaned in and kissed Brett's forehead. Brett was, needless to say, taken aback. No one who knew her made any effort to touch her, even casually. She just wasn't into physical contact. Why would a stranger do such a thing? "I suppose some things never change," was all the woman said. Brett glanced behind her, looking for Mulder and Scully. Her father *had* to meet this woman. "Mom? Dad? Come here," she called. Mulder glanced in the direction of his daughter's voice. Where had she gone? She was standing right there a second ago. Scully touched his arm. "Mulder, why is Brett sitting in the middle of the sidewalk?" They walked over to her. "Brett, what are you doing?" Brett turned back to the woman, only to find that she wasn't there. Well, stranger things had happened in her life. "Look what I found." She held up the ring. Scully looked at it. She'd seen one of these before. "It's an aura ring, or something. It has a name, but I can't recall it. Whatever color it becomes when you put it on is supposed to be representative of your aura. But once you put it on, it will always be yours. If I were to try it on, or someone else, it wouldn't change to the color of my aura. It would change to grey and stay that way until its 'rightful owner' puts it back on. See?" She took the ring from Brett's finger and slipped it on. They watched as it turned into what appeared to be a regular old rock. Brett put it back on, and it turned back to the vibrant golden color it had been before. Scully continued, "It must have never been worn before you tried it on. That's strange. I don't know how it works, really, but it's supposed to have protective powers." Brett looked skeptical. "How do you know that? Is that really true?" Scully shrugged. "It's probably just a more expensive version of one of those little mood rings. But it's a pretty color on you." Brett wrinkled her nose. "Yellow's an angry color." Mulder spoke then. "But it's also a symbol of strength. Besides, it's not really yellow, it's more of a gold. And you *do* have one hell of a temper." He propelled her forward, as they were blocking the sidewalk traffic. The girl looked at it again. "It's weird. But I kind of like it." ****************** end part 7 khughes@msms.doe.k12.ms.us or hughekd@okra.millsaps.edu ------------------------------ From: Kristie Hughes Date: Wed, 29 May 1996 23:24:30 -0500 Subject: The Persistence of Memory: Part 8/? -- Blame the Cosmos sorry this has been so long in coming. my modem has been most uncooperative. but i've finally completed the story in my head. two to three more after this. then an epilogue! yea! thanks to all of you who have patiently stuck with me. DISCLAIMER: i didn't do it. you can't prove anything illegal is going on here. CATEGORY: MSR TIME SPAN: may/june 2011 AUTHOR'S NOTES: this took a turn in my head, possibly for the worst. but you can let me know what you think. due to this turn, this part is a little different from the rest. ******************************* The Persistence of Memory: Part 8/? -- Blame the Cosmos by kris Brett looked around the little cabin. It was nice--very nice. And it had all of the modern essentials. Her parents had surprised her. She had been expecting a tent in the middle of nowhere. Actually, Scully had made the reservations. Mulder, however, was not quite as impressed. "Scully, *where* is the t.v.?" he said looking around. "Mulder, we are in *Maine*. It's gorgeous here." She opened the blinds to reveal the view of the snow-capped mountains from the large picture window. "We don't *need* a t.v." "Well, unless those mountains are going to broadcast the sports for the next two weeks, we *need* a t.v." He dropped into a large, overstuffed chair. Obviously he wasn't finished pouting. Scully dropped down sideways across his lap and whispered something into his ear. All thoughts of the television, or lack thereof, vanished. Brett rolled her eyes. Well, obviously t.v. couldn't compare to what her mother had just offered him. "Mom, which bedroom should I take?" Brett asked, impatien to escape from this display of affection. Scully barely looked up. "Take the one upstairs. We'll take the one down here." Brett picked up her bags and hauled them up the stairs. She still didn't understand how her parents could spend so much time together and never get tired of each other. And she wasn't one of those kids who swore her parents never had sex. But for goodness sakes, couldn't they be a little less obvious about it? The upstairs consisted simply of a bedroom with two double beds, a dresser, closet, and a spacious bathroom. Hmmm...at least she had a huged bathtub to herself. And one wall of the bedroom was pretty much nothing but windows and a sliding glass door that led to a balcony overlooking the lake. She had all of her things put away in a matter of minutes. Now what to do? Walking out on the balcony, Brett noticed some people skiing on the lake. Looked like fun, but they had to be cold. She felt a tingling sensations, like she was being watched and looked around. After the past couple of days, her imagination was in overdrive. She played with the little ring on her finger. The gold now had streaks of blue in it. Brett thought the words, but didn't actually say them. The voice responded, her words echoing in her head like unbidden thoughts. Brett was surprised. How was it possible to actually hold a conversation with someone in that way?? Maybe this voice was a figment of her imagination. The voice retorted. Wonderful, thought Brett. The voice's owner seemed to possess a humor that could irritate the hell out of her. She got enough of that dealing with her father every day. God, it was scary that others had her father's sick sense of humor. She'd always harbored the suspicion that he was a social mutant...but a loveable one. Brett ground her teeth. The voice sounded amused. Brett was in no mood for this. She hadn't been alone all day and her patience was wearing thin. Bitterly, she snapped at the voice once again. Brett silently counted to ten before continuing. The voice got defensive. Brett rubbed her eyes. Please, please, let this be a bad dream, she pleaded with whatever force may be listening. ------------------------------ End of X-Files-FanFic Digest V1 #142 ************************************ From: Kristie Hughes Date: Thu, 30 May 1996 00:57:51 -0500 Subject: The Persistence of Memory: Part 9/? -- Desolate here's the next part. :) DISCLAIMER: You know the routine. Place your hands over your head while i read you your rights....i don't own these people officer, they just hopped into my car and demanded that i drive them around...honest. no, you can take them off my hands, i don't mind. ********************************* The Persistence of Memory: Part 9/? -- Desolate by kris The voice was silent and Brett thought she had gone. Then the voice was back, sounding panicky. This was crazy, Brett thought. Brett ignored that comment. Brett decided to humor her. This person was quite infuriating. Brett felt a chill crawl over her as she began to make a connection. Oh, God. This was bizarre. Brett wanted to see if she zapped, teleported, whatever--somewhere specific, would this voice zap to that place with her. Brett's head was hurting. There was too much going on inside for her to think this through. Brett thought surely there was some mistake. Brett's headache got more intense. She glanced at her watch. She'd been out here for over an hour. Her parents would probably panic soon. This was all really spooky. She didn't want to be resposible for another person's life or well-being. The voice suddenly sounded very young to Brett. And helpless. But she wasn't sure what to do. She hated the idea of being responsible for this girl in this way. The pleas really got to her, but keeping a connectio for long periods of time was exhausting. Not to mention that trying to deal with her parents and the voice at the same time could lead to a mishap. Like her disappearing into thin air in front of them. Now that was interesting. Could that explain why she felt so rested after her three month 'lapse'?? Brett decided that once again these thoughts would have to wait...along with trying to figure how this did or did *not* fit in with what the woman on the sidewalk had been talking about. It startled Brett that she could have walked right past this person's...presence and never realized it. Opening the door to the cabin, she stifled a yawn. It really had been a long, trying day. Mulder and Scully were on the couch, glasses of wine in front of them. Scully gave Brett a look. "Where the hell have you been for so long?" Ouch. She didn't need this right now. "Just checking things out." Brett prayed she'd let it drop. Yeah, well, like *that* was going to happen. "You cannot just go wandering off in a new place, where you have no sense of your surroundings, Brett." Scully looked quite pissed. Were they back to this again? "I didn't go far. And I lost track of time," Brett could feel her own temper starting to boil. It looked like she and Scully were back to facing off. Well, the Berlin wall hadn't crumbled in a day...or had it? Or was that The Great Wall hadn't been built in a day? Whatever, Rome certainly wasn't built in a day... The voice resounded in her head, sounding much louder than it had outside. And she'd missed part of Scully's lecture. Mulder was *not* being helful. He was reading a book. Brett silently counted to ten for the second time that evening. As she finished, she heard Scully say, "Don't you have *any* thing to say for yourself?" Brett was way too tired to argue...that was a first. "Yes. I'm sorry. You're right. I was in the wrong. Why should I expect you to respect my ability to make my own decisions when I don't act responsibly and with common sense in even a simple situation?" Scully couldn't decide how to react. She hadn't expected her daughter to back down. Was Brett being sincere or just trying to placate her? It was easier when Brett stood her ground and acted like a stubborn brat. That was the way they dealt with each other. Neither liked to admit to being wrong. All Scully said was, "Okay." Brett had the feeling she had just scored a point in a game she hadn't even been aware of playing. At the very least, she'd managed to fluster her mother. That happened very rarely. Then she heard the voice complain about being cold. She decided the best thing for both of them was for her to sleep. Annoyed, Brett noticed Mulder staring at her over the top of his book. "Dad, how was your evening?" "Wonderful." Mulder thought about the hot tub. Definitely the highlight of his evening. But he also noticed how Brett kept spacing out. "You look tired. Maybe you should just get some rest." Brett crossed to the couch and crawled on beside Mulder. "I think I will." He slipped his arm around her and gave Scully a funny look. Brett was rarely so complacent. She'd stay up all night and be dead tired before letting them tell her what to do. And she rarely put herself in such close physical quarters with even him. He wonder if maybe she needed a little comforting. Or if she was sick. She didn't feel warm. But she did snuggle closer to Mulder and put her head down, using him as a pillow. Brett sighed aloud. Mulder didn't miss the exasperated sigh. *Too much* time in the car, he supposed. Brett wasn't accustomed to spending that much time with him or Scully in one sitting--let alone both of them. Brett never made it upstairs. She was too tired from trying to keep up this mental conversation. She trailed off, exhaustion taking its toll. Mulder felt the tension drain from Brett's body. Scully looked across him to their daughter's still form. "Mulder, she's already asleep." Scully wondered how long it had been since she'd watched Brett sleep...and look like she didn't have the weight of the world on her shoulders. "Do you think we should wake her?" "No, can you carry her upstairs?" Mulder scooped Brett up and followed Scully upstairs. She turned back the covers on one of the beds and Mulder deposited Brett into it. Brett shifted and then stilled. He kissed the top of her head and turned to leave. Scully pulled the covers up around her, shutting out the light. Before leaving she whispered, "Sleep well, baby," and smoothed the girl's hair. ************ end part 9 khughes@msms.doe.k12.ms.us or hughekd@okra.millsaps.edu ------------------------------ From: Kristie Hughes Date: Tue, 04 Jun 1996 23:52:15 -0500 Subject: The Persistence of Memory: Part 10/? -- Revelations sorry it's been so long in coming. i have a horrible head cold that will not go away. the sounds of my keyboard seem extremely amplified...so i'm wearing earmuffs and typing it anyway! DISCLAIMER: return to sender... .....YOU KNOW THE REST ********************************* The Persistence of Memory: Part 10/? -- Revelations by kris Brett could feel someone was in the room with her and buried her head further under the pillow. That someone was speaking. Oh, God, she felt tired. Every bone in her body ached. Why wouldn't the person just let her sleep? "Hey, sleepyhead? Are you going to grace us with your presence today?" Peeking out from under the pillow, Brett could make out Mulder standing over her. "No, I'm going to stay here all day." Finally, she sat up and coughed. Why was her throat sore? She must have been getting a cold. "It's after nine. You've been asleep for practically twelve hours." Mulder sat on the bed beside her. "I must have been really out of it." Her voice sounded funny, like there was wet cotton stuffed in her ears. Mulder noticed the sniffling and congestion. "Are you sick?" "No, I think I'm getting a cold." Brett tried to clear her throat. "I'll be down in a few minutes. What are you guys up to?" "We're going to run into town and pick up the equipment we rented. "Skis, boat, the whole works. Maybe a tent and other supplies. Do you still want to hike and camp out overnight?" "Yeah, I guess." "Okay, see you downstairs." ****************************************** Scully was pouring coffee, Mulder burning toast when Brett padded in, still wearing the sweatpants and t-shirt from last night. "Did you sleep well?" Scully asked, offering her a glass of orange juice. Brett made a face but took it anyway. "Yeah, I guess." She sneezed twice and started couphing. The orange juice burned her throat. Uuugghhh. "Your dad says you're getting sick. Come let me see if you have a fever." Brett scooted closer to scully and dumped the juice into the sink behind her back. "You feel pretty warm. But it's probably just the altitude and weather changes. Plus, you've been asleep. Your body's at its warmest right now. Does anything hurt?" "My throat and ears. I'll be better once I get awake. Why don't you guys go into town without me? I'll stay inside until you get back. And I have my cellular so you can call me." Brett opened a cold Coke, getting a look from Scully. "Well, that may not be such a bad idea," Scully responded. "The forecast says it may rain a little. If it does, the temperature will drop. Before you shower, will you bring some wood inside? Unless you don't feel like it." "No, I can get it. How long will you be gone?" Brett walked to the door with them. "Not long. So don't even *think* of slipping off," Mulder warned. Brett wrinkled her nose. "What kind of trouble could I get into?" Mulder just grimaced. "I'm sure you could find something. But *don't* *even* *think* about it." ******************************************** Brett was slippping on a sweatshirt when she remembered the 'voice'. The voice sounded a little irritated. Brett got defensive. She opened the door to the cabin and looked around. Thunder rumbled and the sky lit up in a flash of lightning. Brett couldn't help but wonder where 'here' was. Okay, so that was a farfetched idea. But then, this whole thing was pretty unbelievable. Brett picked up a couple of logs from the woodpile and started back towards the cabin. The voice hesitated. Brett headed back to the wood pile. Brett picked up more logs and looked out towards the wooded area surrounding the lake. There was a figure coming towards her. She took the logs back to their cabin and decided to make one more trip. The figure she had seen had reached the top of the hill, and was actually a girl, who looked about Brett's age. Brett noticed the girl was leaning against a tree next to the wood pile and took in her worn, wet clothing. She was shivering and the rain was coming down harder. "Hi," Brett said uncertainly. Why would anyone be wandering around in this weather. She was so focused on the girl that she forgot about keeping the connection with the voice. The girl looked around behind her at the sound of Brett's voice. She turned back to Brett. "Uh, hi." Brett wondered about her strange behavior. "What are you doing out here in the rain? You're completely soaked." "Well, I--" the girl started. "Are you lost? Do you want to use my phone to call someone?" Brett picked up another log. "No, I...well, I'm locked out of our cabin." The girl pushed wet brown hair out of her eyes. "Oh, why didn't you say so. We're staying in that cabin." Brett pointed it out. "Do you want to come inside with me? You can get dry and wait out the storm. Maybe your parent will be back by then." The girl gave a half smile. "That would be great. Do you need help with the logs?" She picked one up. "Thanks. My parents are in town for the morning." Brett started back towards the cabin. "Thought we may have to light a fire before the day was over." She paused. "I'm Brett, by the way." The girl just looked at her, so she continued. "What's your name?" "Sa--Sarah." "Nice to meet you, Sarah." Brett dumped the logs and went into the living room, just in time for the bottom to drop out of the sky. "Wow, I'm glad we came in when we did." Thunder rumbled and the sky lit up again. Brett shrugged out of her sweatshirt and slipped her shoes off. "Why don't you come upstairs? You can shower and get warm. You're a little taller than I am, but I'm sure I can find some sweatpants to fit you. And a warm shirt." Sarah looked hesitant, then slipped off her sneakers and followed Brett. Brett showed her the bathroom and gaver her a huge towel. "You should have everything you need in there. All my stuff is in there--feel free to use any of it. There's a blowdryer on the vanity. I'll leave you some clothes and go make tea. Do you drink tea?" Sara nodded. "Thank you," she said, closing the door behind her. Brett heard the shower come on as she put black sweatpants, a t-shirt, thick socks, and an oversized flannel button up on the extra bed. ************************************** Mulder hung up the phone and looked at Scully. "Mudslide warning. We can't make it back up to the cabin while it's still raining--especially with the boat." Scully looked annoyed. This was just their luck. "I guess we should call Brett. Tell her we'll be back as soon as we can." Mulder nodded and dialed the number, slipping an arm around Scully. "Brett, it's me." Brett was standing in the kitchen when her cellular phone rang. "Hi, Dr. Spock. What's up?" She noticed Sarah coming down the stairs and motioned to her. "We're stuck in town because of the rain. Is everything okay there?" He sounded far away. Brett couldn't tell if it was because the connection was bad or because her ears were stopped up. "Yes, everything's fine." "Hold on. Your mom wants to talk to you." Brett heard a shuffling as the phone changed hands. "Hi, Brett. Are you feeling better?" "A little. I'm about to take a shower. Oh, Mom? I met a girl who is staying in another cabin. Her parents are in town, I think, and she got locked out. So she's here with me. Her name is Sarah." Scully hesitated. "Oh, okay, I guess. Call us if you need anything. And do *NOT* go outside." "I won't." Brett rolled her eyes for Sarah's benefit. "Are you sure everything is all right?" Scully sounded concerned. "Yes, Mom. We've got it under control. The men are coming over soon." Scully could hear the smile in her daughter's voice. "Well, save one for me. After this, I may have to trade Mulder in." "Aww, Mom. You can't do that. I've gotten sort of attached to him." Brett could hear her father grumbling in the background and her mother laughing. "I guess you're right. He does sort of grow on you." Suddenly Brett heard her father's voice again. "You be very very good, young lady. Or we'll put you under house arrest until you are thirty. And stop giving your mother crazy ideas." "Yes, SIR!" Brett hung up the phone and smiled at Sarah. "Parents," she sighed. "What are we to do with them? So, are the clothes okay?" "Yes, thank you." Cleaned up, the girl was quite pretty, wavy brown hair cascading down her back. "I'm going to shower now. If you're hungry, help yourself to whatever. Otherwise, we can throw something together later. My parents are stuck in town until the storm lets up." Brett turned to go upstairs. "I'll just wait for you," Sarah said. ************************************** Twenty minutes later, Brett was dressed in grey leggings and one of Scully's oversized sweatshirts. She swiped a ponytail holder for her hairs as she flipped out the light. Only then did she notice the jewelry on the bathroom counter. Turning the light back on, she picked up the necklace and ring to inspect them. The necklace had a gold catcher's mitt suspended from it and looked a little tarnished. Must've been well-worn. The ring, however, sent chills down Brett's spine. It was identical to the one the woman on the sidewalk had given her. Feeling uneasy, Brett descended the stairs. Sarah was sitting on the couch, flipping through a photo album. Brett wondered idly why her parents had brought it up here with them. Maybe they planned to add the pictures from this trip to it. Sarah glance up when she heard Brett. "Hi. Do you feel better?" "Yes, thank you. Oh, you left your jewelry upstairs." Brett watched the girl intently as she handed her the necklace and ring. "Oh, thanks." Sarah slipped the ring on and fastened the necklace around her neck, fingering the catcher's mitt. She pointed to a picture of Scully and Brett on a beach in southern California. They were both wearing black cat's eye sunglasses and had their hair up in ponytails. "Is that your sister?" "No, that's my mother." Brett sat down beside her. "Oh, she looks young," Sarah commented. "Both of my parents look young for their age, I guess." "Well, I really couldn't tell with the sunglasses on." Sarah turned the page, and Brett noticed that the girl's ring had turned a brilliant shade of blue. "This is your father?" Sarah was pointing to a picture of Mulder looking up at something in the sky. Brett was standing beside him, holding the string to a kite. "Yes. That was the same trip as the other picture." Brett looked at the pictures. They were only a couple of years old. "You look a lot like your mom," Sarah pointed out. "I guess so," Brett replied. "You guys look very close. Your family, I mean." "I guess." Brett studied her intently. "Aren't you close to your family?" "I don't know. No, I guess not." Sarah looked uncomfortable. Brett tried to take advantage of the impending silence to get a reading of the girl's thoughts, but she found it impossible. Then she remembered how abruptly she had forgotten the voice when Sarah had shown up. She hoped the voice hadn't zapped to another place already. Brett tried to reach out, but felt nothing. She tried again and felt a slight sensation, but couldn't hold onto it. Sarah looked at her sharply. Brett mentally shook herself, then returned her attention to Sarah. "Do you want to fix something to eat with me?" "Sure." "Okay...." Brett rummaged through the kitchen. "I don't cook much. Neither do my parents, for that matter. We have burnt toast from earlier...my dad's specialty. How about grilled cheese sandwiches?" "Sounds fine to me." Sarah just looked at her. Brett made the sandwiches quickly and got out some cold Cokes. She was pretty much addicted to Cokes. "How old are you?" she asked Sarah. "Uh, well, fifteen." Sara looked uncomfortable again. Brett pursed her lips. She wasn't giving up that easily. There was something strange about this girl. "So am I. Where do you go to school?" "Well...." "You do go to school, don't you?" "Sort of..." Brett was getting frustrated. These were not difficult questions. "Okay, how about a simpler question. Where are you from?" Sarah didn't answer. Brett took a deep breath. "You're not really staying in another cabin here, are you?" "Well, no, not exactly." Sarah finally met her gaze. "Okay, so, are you in some kind of trouble?" Brett prodded. The girl's lower lip trembled. "I...I don't know," she stammered. Oh God. Please don't let her cry. "Why don't you tell me what it is, and maybe we can do something about it," Brett offered. Sarah really looked miserable. "I can't. You'll think I'm crazy." "Everyone's a little crazy. It doesn't matter what I think. You need someone to talk to and I promise that I pose no threat to you." Sara took a lon shuddery breath. "Okay, I, well, I don't know how I got here. I don't know *where* my family is. I haven't seen them since....since I was a little girl." Brett felt realization dawning, but didn't want to give herself away just yet. "So... you just woke up here? Or what?" "Well, I just...show up place and don't know how I got there. And then, there's this...voice, in my head. Like I can hear another person's thoughts." Now Brett's suspicions had been confirmed. She didn't know how or why this had happened, but the other girl was obviously very upset and scared. Not to mention that she hadn't had any human contact in years, if what she had said last night was actually true. "Let me ask you something, Sarah. This voice, does it....sort of control where you end up?" Sarah looked startled. "Well, yeah. How did you know?" "Do you hear the voice now?" "Well, no. Not since...not since I ran into you." "And the first time this happened....did you end up at DisneyWorld?" Sarah's mouth dropped open. "Oh my God. It was you?" Brett wasn't very calm herself, but she tried not to betray that. "I, I think so. My parents took me to DisneyWorld when I was seven or eight, I think." "That's about how old I was when I disappeared. Do you...do you think I'm going to zap out of here again?" Sarah looked frightened again. "No, I don't think so. Let's just try to think calmly. What's your last name? Maybe we can actually get you home again when my mom and dad get back." Brett leaned across the table, resting on her elbows. Sarah didn't respond. "Sarah, what's your last name? Do you remember where you lived when you were little?" Brett looked at her expectantly. "Brett, I sort of lied about my name. I was scared and it seemed like the thing to do at the time." Sarah fidgeted. "Well, that's understandable," Brett replied slowly. "Can you tell me now?" "I guess. My name is Samantha. Samantha Mulder. People used to call me Sam when I was little because Samantha was such a big name." *************** end part 10 hughekd@okra.millsaps.edu or khughes@msms.doe.k12.ms.us ------------------------------ From: Kristie Hughes Date: Wed, 05 Jun 1996 11:09:40 -0500 Subject: The Persistence of Memory: Part 11/? -- The Burdens of Truth here we go. i'm back on track now. DISCLAIMER: I don't own them, guys. No evil intended. *************************************** The Persistence of Memory: Part 11/? -- The Burdens of Truth by kris "My name is Samantha. Samantha Mulder. People used to call me Sam because Samantha was such a big name." Brett felt the color drain from her face. This, she had not been expecting. Not to mention the fact that she didn't believe it. It was too coincidental. Feeling numb, she debated what to do. Should she let on that she knew who Samantha Mulder really was? Or should she just feign ignorance. Ignorance, she decided, would be the best policy. Then she could drag her mother off to the side the moment they arrived and tell her. Scully would know how to handle this. Brett was pained to think of Mulder getting his hopes up again, only to realize that they'd all been set up. She felt violated. How could *they* manipulate her mind and body like this? Was it even possible? "Brett? You zoned out there." Sarah--Samantha--studied her with bright green eyes. "Oh, yeah, I'm fine. Okay, so Sam...or should I call you Samantha? Now we wait for my parents to get back." Brett hoped her voice sounded normal enough. She studied the girl's face for signs of deceit. But then, maybe she really believe she was Samantha. "Sam is fine. It feels nice to hear someone say my name again. I can't wait to meet your parents. Hey, I don't even know your last name." Brett gave her a cold look. "Scully." Sam wrinkled her brow. "That's an odd name." "It's Irish." Brett tried to think of a way to get out of the room. She didn't feel safe with this girl. "What's your mother's name?" Why wouldn't the girl stop asking questions. She didn't want her to ask about Mulder. "Dana. She's a forensic pathologist for the FBI. Sam, where did you get that ring?" Brett was hoping to distract her. "It's weird. Some woman sort of appeared and gave it to me. She said it would help me find my way home again." Sam studied the ring. Then noticed that Brett had one, too. "Hey, where'd you get yours? The woman that gave it to me sort of reminded me of you, red hair and all." "I think the same woman that gave you yours." Brett paused. She might as well try to figure some of this out while she waited. "Did you ever notice it change colors when we...talked....you know?" "Well, I never paid it much attention...why?" Sam looked at the deep gold of Brett's ring. "No reason." Brett heard the Jeep drive up. "Could you wait here for a minute? I think my parents are back. I'm going to go help them." Brett walked quickly to the door, closing it firmly behind her. Scully was coming up the steps; Mulder was backing the Jeep up to park the ski boat. Scully noticed Brett's expression. "Brett, what is it? You look like you've seen a ghost." Brett took Scully by the arm and dragged her back down the steps, out of earshot of Mulder. "Mom, listen to me. I have to talk fast. The girl that showed up here, Sarah. Well, I'll explain it all to you better later. But she says she is Samantha. I didn't want dad to find out and jump the gun. I thought you would know what to do." It took a moment for the words to sink in. "What? Brett, what are you saying? That's crazy." "I know, Mom. And it worries me. I feel like I've been set up. I don't know what to believe. She doesn't know who we are. Or at least, I didn't tell her. And if she does know, she's doing a pretty good job of hiding it. I told her my last name was Scully. She saw pictures of Dad, and didn't seem to recognize him." Brett was talking so fast, Scully could barely make out the words. And she was shaking all over. Scully put her arms instinctively around her daughter. "It's okay. We'll get through this together. Have you noticed anyone else hanging around here today?" Brett took a breath, relaxing in her mother's arms. "No, not in this weather. Mom, in a way, I want her to be Samantha. I want Dad to have the closure he's been missing. But if she is Samantha, I feel like there's just going to be more questions." "Okay, let's go help your father and go inside. Try to act as calmly as possible. Follow my lead, and we'll just play this thing out." Scully tucked a lock of hair behind her ear, but kept the other arm around Brett. "Mom, where's your gun?" Brett hated to ask it, but she was expecting some kind of showdown before the day was out. "In the Jeep. I'll get it before we go inside, okay?" "Okay." They walked around to Mulder, who was getting the bags out of the Jeep by then. Brett picked up a bag. "Hi, Dad." "Hey, kid. Eventful day?" He dropped a kiss on the top of her head. "Oh, yeah. So much to do around here in the rain." They started up the steps, Brett letting Scully get in front of her. Mulder almost ran into her from behind. "Hey, why are you stopping?" "Stuck in the mud. Sorry." Scully opened the door and kicked off her shoes. She saw the young girl standing against the counter. Studying the girl intently, Scully could see a resemblance between her and Mulder. A big resemblance. The shape of her eyes, the brown hair, the quirky lips. "Hi, you must be the new friend Brett told us about on the phone." "Yes, ma'am. Can I take one of those bags for you?" Sam stepped forward. "Thanks. By the way, I'm Dana Scully." She hoped Mulder wasn't close enough to hear her. She looked behind her. "That's my husband behind Brett." "It's nice to meet you, Mrs. Scully. Mr. Scully." Sam fidgeted, looking to Brett for support. Mulder looked confused. Mr. Scully? He dropped the bag onto the counter and looked at the other girl. He felt a spark of recognition, but Scully interrupted him. "Sweetheart, can I talk to you for a second?" She took him by the arm. "Girls, would you mind putting away what you can of that stuff?" "No problem, Mom." Brett started unpacking a bag, not meeting Mulder's inquisitive gaze. ******************************************** Mulder looked at Scully as she led him through their bedroom and out onto the balcony. She paced before him. "Scully, what the hell is going on?" She stopped and spoke to him. "Mulder, that girl in there..." "Yes? What about her? Is she in some kind of trouble?" Mulder was getting uneasy. Scully started pacing again. "Does she remind you of anyone?" She looked at Mulder, holding her breath. "Well, I thought she did. But I don't know. Lots of people have brown hair and green eyes..." Mulder trailed off. He could feel the anticipation building inside of him. Scully spoke again. "Mulder, she says she is Samantha. I don't know how or why, but that's what she told Brett. She doesn't know who we are yet, at least, Brett doesn't think she does." "Scully, I....I don't know what to do, what to think." Mulder looked confused, hopeful, sad, relieved. All at once. Scully reached out to him and hugged him close. "Me either, Mulder. But we deal with this together, okay? No matter what happens. The first thing we need to do is sit her down and talk to her. See if she remembers anything, how she got here, where she's been. Why she only seems to be Brett's age. Then, from there, we can do DNA testing, whatever it takes. Okay?" Mulder held onto his partner tightly. "Okay." "Are you ready? Brett's scared out of her mind, I believe." Mulder half-smiled. "Brett's not scared of anything." Scully smiled, too. "Well, suspicious would be a better word for her state of mind." "Hey, we taught her well." ************************************ Walking back into the room, Scully observed the two girls. Brett looked a little tense, but she was trying to calm the other girl. "You can trust my parents, okay? They won't let anything bad happen to you. I promise. I can understand your reluctance, after everything that has happened, but believe me, we'll get this straightened out." "What if your parents can't help me?" The other girl looked so...lost. "Oh, trust me. I think they can. My parents can do anything they set their minds to, all right? And together, they are quite a force to be recogned with. You're going to like them, I believe." Brett looked around to see Scully and Mulder. Thank God. She was drowning here. Scully and Mulder sat down at the table, joining Brett and Samantha. "So, Brett tells us you say your name is really Samantha. Are you sure about that?" Scully looked at the girl, trying to read her face. "Yes, ma'am. I am." "Okay, then I think there's something else Brett needs to tell you. But first, let me ask you, do you know if you have any family we can call?" "I, I had a family. But it was so long ago. I don't kow if you can reach them now, or where to look. My father's name was Bill. Well, William Mulder. I can't really remember what our address was. I was really small the last time I saw them." Sam looked to Brett for support. Scully wasn't sure what to do next. "What was your mother's name?" "Um, Caroline. Caroline Mulder. I, I used to have a brother. His name was Fox. It's a pretty interesting name, huh? He gave me this necklace when I was six." She held up the baseball mitt. "We used to throw the ball around, but I was pretty bad at it. He would get really annoyed with me, but he still played with me." Brett heard her father's sharp intake of breath. He obviously recognized the necklace. Samantha looked pleadingly at Scully and Mulder. "Please, I just want to go home." Brett checked her mother's gaze, looking for affirmation. When she found it in her eyes, she looked back to Sam. "Um, Sam, listen. You aren't the only one who lied about her name. My last name isn't really Scully. Well, it is, sort of. My full last name is Scully-Mulder." Sam looked blankly at her. "What?" "This is my mother, Dana Scully-Mulder." She paused. "And my father, Fox Mulder." Samantha looked at Brett, then Scully, and finally her gaze rested on Mulder. "Oh my God. Fox?" Mulder wasn't sure what to do. He wanted so badly to believe. To believe that this was Samantha. After all this time, to take her into his arms and tell her that she was home. But he couldn't. Not yet. Finally, he spoke to her for the first time. "Hi. Listen, I need to know the truth. About how you got here, where you've been. But I want you to know that you're safe. That we won't let anything happen to you while you're with us." The girl's lip trembled. "You don't believe me, do you? None of you believes me." Brett could tell that the girl was under a lot of stress, and she wanted to make her feel better. And she realized that whether this was Samantha or not, the girl actually believed she was. And if she wasn't, she had been deceived as badly as the rest of them--maybe more so, since she then wouldn't know who she was, or where she belonged. "Sam, listen. It's not that we don't believe you. We just...we need proof. Dad really does want to believe you--it's just...things have happened in the past, bad things, that have left us all a little skeptical. That's why it's so difficult for us to believe." She scooted over and took Samantha's hand, then addressed her parents. "I can help you out, I think, on where Sam's been. But right now, I think we should get her to a doctor, just to make sure she's all right." Scully took the hint. This way, they could figure out whether she really was Samantha. "You're right. Let me make a phone call. Mulder, do you want to come with me?" He stood up. "Yeah, I'm coming." He walked around the table after Scully, ruffling Samantha's hair as he walked by. Please, God, let it be her. ************************************* Fifteen minutes later, Scully and Mulder re-entered the room. "Okay, everybody in the Jeep. We're going to drive to Bangor for the night. They're waiting for us at the hospital there. Brett, why don't you get a change of clothes and toothbrush. Sam, we can get you some clothes there, or if you would rather, you can pick out something of Brett's just in case." Brett turned to Sam. "Come on up with me. We'll figure something out. Besides, here's your chance to have some fun with their credit card. God knows they never let me withing five feet of it." Mulder swatted her backside as she twirled by. Samantha smiled for the first time. "Hey, maybe you can wrangle some new clothes out of this deal as well." Brett through a sweet smile at Mulder. "Oh, I'm counting on it." Sam looked at Brett as they came back down the stairs. "I'm a little scared of needles." Brett smiled at her. "Well, they aren't my favorite things, either. But I can stay with you the whole time, if you like. Because they are most definitely going to do bloodwork. But hell, with my luck, they'll stick a needle in my arm as well. It'll be a bonding experience." "What do you think they made those calls about?" Samantha looked very serious. "I can explain it better later. But there is a file on you at the FBI headquarters. We should be able to tell from that if your DNA matches. Do you understand?" Brett walked out the door behind her parents. "Yes, I think so. When will we know for sure? I just want to get all this settled. You have *me* doubting myself." Sam looked none too happy. "We'll know tonight, if my parents have anything to do with it. If necessary, Mom will barge in and do the tests herself. By now, the file should have been faxed from D.C. Are you all right?" "Fine. Just queasy." Sam climbed into the Jeep, taking her cue from Brett and buckling up. "Yeah, me too. We didn't have lunch, you guys." Brett spoke to Mulder and Scully. "Could we stop and get something at the bottom of the mountain? If they're going to draw blood, we're going to need it." **************************** end part 11 hughekd@okra.millsaps.edu or khughes@msms.doe.k12.ms.us ------------------------------ From: Kristie Hughes Date: Thu, 06 Jun 1996 01:50:25 -0500 Subject: The Persistence of Memory: Part 12/? -- The Dawning This one is short...because I'm still trying to decide how it should end. I'm in a bad mood, and I am tempted to be evil about the whole thing. But I'm taking requests for how you think things should end up....Here's your last chance. Either way, it could be evil. Do I stick Scully and Mulder with another teenage girl....they can't seem to handle the one they've got... DISCLAIMER: let's all give credit where credit is due. i do not own the characters of mulder, scully, and samantha. i will not harm them. i promise to give them back if i ever finish this story...besides, it's re-run season. they don't need them right now. The Persistence of Memory: Part 12/? -- by kris ********************************** On the ride to Bangor, Brett tried to explain to her parents how all of this had come about. It was not an easy task. Mulder interrupted every couple of seconds to ask a question--usually one she would have answered anyway if he'd kept quiet and listened. Scully just kept giving her strange looks in the rearview mirror. Brett thought it was a safe bet that she'd be visiting a psychiatrist in the near future if her mother had anything to do with it. She had explained about the episodes of waking up somewhere else...the teleporting, so to speak. She tried to tell them how it was her theory that it happened when she let her mind wander...like that day she had disappeared for three months. Mulder had a million questions about that. And since it happened so often when she was sleeping or just on the verge of sleep, it could have something to do with her dreams and subconscious mind. No, she didn't know why it didn't happen all the time. Needless to say, they were not at a loss for conversation. Things, however, had gotten quite interesting when Brett told them about the voice in her head...and how she and Samantha had eventually figured out who the other was. Brett thought Scully's eyebrow was going to shoot completely off of her forehead. Mulder tried to get Sam to talk more about her situation in those missing years...but Sam, who was unaccustomed to such interrogations, was a little taken aback. Between the two of them, however, Mulder and Scully now knew as much as they did. Scully could tell that Mulder was pretty much in shock. Brett seemed to be annoyed by the whole thing. And Samantha, surprisingly enough, didn't seem too traumatized by the ordeal. Scully's theory was that during those years of just 'floating around' Sam had been protected somehow, from suffering psychological trauma. She was sure that existing in such a way for so long would have been the equivalent of sensory deprivation, and that eventually a person would go crazy under those circumstances. Was it the connection she claimed to have had with Brett that had kept her sane during that time? Normally, Scully wouldn't have believed a word of this story. But she knew Brett well enough to know that *she* wouldn't have supported this story without questioning its legitimacy. It was just too....bizarre. Scully's worst fear was that Brett's mind had been manipulated in some way, to make her believe that this had all happened. She would just have to control her doubts and fears until they could get those tests run.... Mulder sat there, looking at his daughter and...sister?...she looked so much like what he thought she would. The same sweet face of those old pictures he had of her. How could it not be her? And if it was indeed Samantha, how badly had CancerMan and the rest of 'them' manipulated him all these years? How many times had they held Samantha over his head? Led him to believe that they knew where she was? Had they known? Whatever the answers, Mulder knew for certain that the truth was still out there. And he would keep looking for it. Had he really thought his quest would end when he found Samantha? Just like that? No, he hadn't. He and Scully would search together until the end. "Sam," Mulder asked, "the first night you disappeared? What happened? How much of it do you remember?" He looked intently into the girl's green eyes. "I remember waking up in bed...feeling scared, but I couldn't figure out why. The whole room was bright, so bright I couldn't see. I remember thinking that whoever it was was there for me. And I didn't want to go. Too many science fiction movies for an eight year old, I guess. But then, the next thing I knew, I...blacked out. The world seemed to just...disintegrate. When I became conscious of my surroundings again, I was at DisneyWorld, like I told you." She seemed a little puzzled by his questions about that night. Why did it mean so much to him? Everything was so fuzzy to her now, anyway. With every moment that passed, the whole ordeal seemed a little less real to her. She was having trouble remembering what it felt like to be alone all those years, to go from place to place with no human contact, to be impotent in her surroundings. All of it was becoming like a faraway dream. Like she wasn't supposed to remember, like she'd never really been away. Nothing was making any sense. But Samantha didn't question it. She just let it happen. It seemed like the right thing to do. "So...this light, it never occurred any of the other times you...teleported?" Mulder was trying to figure this all out. Had someone really tried to abduct Samantha that night? Only to have their plans thwarted by the disappearing act? Or had the disappearing act actually been an abduction? And how did CancerMan's agenda fit into all of this? Would they ever know? "No, that's the only time I ever felt...fear. Or saw the light." Sam wondered about this man, her brother. Who was he, what had he done with his life? How had her family dealt with her disappearance? "Fox?" She sounded anxious. "Yes?" "What happened to Momma and Daddy? Where are they now?" Mulder hadn't realized until this moment how difficult this would all be for her...or for him to explain. He was at a loss. But Brett took up the slack. "Sam...your dad, he died before I was born. And your mother, she died when I was three." Brett touched the other girl's shoulder in a gesture of comfort. How would she react to that news. Sam's eyes widened. "Oh. I guess I never really thought about how much they would have aged. But it's weird. In my mind, that was all so long ago...and I can't really remember Momma and Daddy that well. But I, I remember Fox. Does that sound strange?" She didn't know how she was expected to respond, but that really was how she felt. Brett gave her an intense look. "No, I don't suppose that sounds strange. Tell me something. Your vocabulary is not that of an eight year old, and neither is your knowledge. How is that?" Sam looked confused. "I, I don't know. I never thought about it. I feel like I just...progressed with you." "So, does that mean you know everything I know? What's my favorite color?" Brett didn't like the idea of this at all. She felt...violated. "I don't *know* Brett." Sam was looking annoyed now. "Okay, what's the derivative of 6x^2?" "12x." Sam never batted an eye. "Okay, do you know any other languages?" Brett found this all quite amazing. "Ummm...a little Spanish. Why? Do you know Spanish?" Brett rattled off fluent Spanish. She had spent a summer in Mexico a couple of years ago with her friend, Lucia, and her family who only spoke Spanish in their home. Lucia lived in D.C., but they went to Mexico for the summers. Samantha just stared at her. "I have no idea what you just said." Brett tried the basic Spanish that she had learned in the seventh grade, before she met Lucia. Samantha understood some of that. Mulder was also following the line of questioning and where it was headed. "So you picked up on the academic things vicariously through Brett?" Scully rolled her eyes. This was impossible. Sam nodded slowly. "I guess so...but I can't remember all of it now." Brett wrinkled her brow. "Well, maybe that's why you remember Dad and not your parents. I was never around them...but I was around Dad everyday. What do you think?" "Maybe." Scully turned left. "We're almost here, you guys." ------------------------------ From: Kristie Hughes Date: Mon, 10 Jun 1996 01:06:25 -0500 Subject: The Persistence of Memory: Part 13/? -- The Cure DISCLAIMER: i have borrowed these characters without permission. however, i feel no remorse for having done so. no harm shall come to them. he who walks naked through the produce section shall reek of mangoes. ************************** The Persistence of Memory: Part 13/? -- The Cure by kris Mulder, Scully, Brett, and Samantha stepped into the private office area of the hospital. A man in a rather suspect looking suit shook hands with first Scully and then Mulder as introductions were made. Brett heard the man introduce himself as Dr. Kent. There was no way this clown was sticking a needle in her arm. There was more grease slicking his hair back than on a mechanics clothing. And his tie was worse than one of her father's--it had the Kellogg's rooster on it. Not to mention it didn't even *go* with the suit. How could that abomination of a tie go with anything? Brett almost laughed aloud, but trying to hold it back, let out a little snort instead. Samantha stifled a giggle. Scully shot them a warning glance that could have frozen hell over. Brett and Samantha were so busy studying this doctor creature that they barely acknowledged the return of their silent communication. A fax was handed over to Mulder and Scully, then Brett and Samantha were introduced to Dr. Flake. Leading them back to an examining room, the doctor drew his needle and looked to the two girls. "Samantha," he said, "I'm going to have to take some blood." Prepping Sam's arm, he looked at Brett's smirk. "And your parents want me to run some tests on you while you're here, Brett." Now it was Samantha's turn to smirk. Brett just smiled sweetly at him. "Oh, you have your hands full. I'm sure my mother could do the honors and get this done more quickly. She's a medical doctor, you know." Scully knew what game she was playing, but given the circumstances, she wouldn't mind speeding things along herself. Dr. Kent told Scully to be his guest. Brett slipped off the sweatshirt she was wearing and held her arm out towards her mother as if it were a trophey. "Try to hit the vein the first time, Mom. No more puncture wounds than necessary." "Well, most of my patients are dead, Brett. Could you play dead? That might make it easier." Scully took her time prepping Brett's arm. Samantha muttered something that sounded suspiciously like "Go for the jugular." Mulder was unamused. This whole thing was tearing him apart, and his entire family was making jokes. What the hell was wrong with them. Humor was not meant to be used as a defense mechanism. a little part of him rebuffed. Sam watched her blood filling up the great big tube and went green. The reaction did not get past Brett. "Makes you want to take up vampirism, huh?" Then she yelped as Scully stuck the needle into her own arm with a little more force than necessary. Dr. Kent sent the samples immediately up to the lab. Scully and Mulder went to supervise. There was no way they were taking a chance on someone mixing up these results...whether it was on accident or on purpose. Brett and Samantha were commanded to stay put in the private office until further notice--that is, once Dr. Kent finished his examinations. Brett pulled Scully aside. "Mother, there is no way that man is going to put his hands up my shirt to listen to my heartbeat. Let me assure you, it's beating. You know how I feel about strange doctors. Please don't leave us down here with him. Can't it wait until we get home and can see Dr. Carson?" Scully knew Brett was panicky about doctors. She had been ever since she had returned after those three months. Fear coiled in the pit of Scully's stomach at what the reaction might have been caused by. Had Brett been experimented on during those three months? "You're right. It can wait. You probably just have a cold. If it's anything more serious, it'll show up in the bloodwork." She turned to Dr. Kent. "I can finish checking the girls over later. I want them to come upstairs with us and wait in the waiting room there." Brett sighed in relief. Scully gave her shoulder a little squeeze. Brett flinched involuntarily, then looked guiltily at Scully. "Sorry," she muttered, moving closing to Mulder. Mulder placed his hand on Brett's back, propelling her forward. Scully gave a defeated sigh and followed Sam out of the room. The walls she thought had come down between her and Brett had obviously been resurrected. Brett could sense the ambivalence of her father's mood--along with the fear, impatience, and feelings of impotence. It made for a pretty bad combination. He was looking less in control than she'd ever seen him. In the elevator, she took his hand between both of her own and locked her fingers around it, leaning into him a little. She knew there were no words to make him feel better or to make this easier for him. She looked anxiously towards her mother. The elevator doors slid open and they walked out. "Brett, this may take a while," Scully said to her. "You and Sam are *not* to set foot outside this hospital without your father or me, do you understand?" "We won't. I want to find the nursery and look at the babies. We'll check back in at this waiting area soon, okay?" She turned to Samantha. "The babies are all wrinkly and stuff. They're so ugly they're cute." As the two girls walked away, Brett caught sight of Mulder and Scully about to enter the lab. Scully wrapped her arms around Mulder and whispered something in his ear. He returned her embrace tenfold, looking as if her may crush her. They straightened up and went into the lab, Mulder's hand, as always, at the small of Scully's back--giving support and at the same time absorbing her strength. *************************** Walking towards the window to the nursery, Brett gave Samantha a sidelong glance. "Nervous?" "A little." Sam fidgeted. "I never even considered the fact that I may not know who I really am. It's so scary. How do you put up with this sort of stuff all the time? The worry, the not knowing? With what your parents do?" "I grew up with it. It's all I've known." Brett pushed her hair behind her ears. "But they come through it. They always do. Together, they're like a cosmic force in their own right. I don't know what they have that makes them so special...but it gives me something to hold onto. To believe in." "I guess. But isn't it dangerous for them to have a daughter? They seem so...guarded. They must have good reason to be." Brett sighed a little and looked at the wrinkly little bundles of pink and blue. Gender myths persevere. "Yes, they're guarded. And yes, it's dangerous. And yes, they have good reason to keep their defences up. But life is dangerous, Sam. It's just...in their lives, the stakes are a lot higher." Brett seemed unwilling to say anything more, so Samantha let it drop. "What about that one in the corner?" she said, pointing to a pink bundle that was crying so hard she was red-faced. "Oh, she'll probably turn out to be an opera singer. She has the lungs for it." Brett pointed to a baby who had kicked the blankets off. "What about him?" "Football player?" Sam smiled at the babies in the first row and made a cooing noise. Brett wrinkled her nose. "I wonder if they feel like produce--laid out on display. If those little creatures are supposed to make people want children....I mean, look at them. They're loud, they're smelly. They take up so much time--and they never go away. Once you have a child, you're in it for life. Now *that* is a scary thought." She wondered how her parents had felt when they first found out about her. Did it say something about her that she was only child? "What, you don't want children?" Sam sounded shocked. "How can anyone not want children?" "I don't know. I have other plans for myself." Brett yawned. "Like what?" Sam sounded genuinely curious. "Like a career." "What kind of career?" "I don't know yet." Brett was getting annoyed. She paused. "Come on. The children's wing is around here somewhere. We can go play with them or something. I don't know if this hospital will allow it, but I volunteer at the children's cancer and AIDS clinics in D.C." Sam stopped in her tracks. "But they're all going to be sick." Brett looked at her. "You're not going to catch anything, Samantha." "No, it's not that. How can you deal with the thought of children dying. Have any of the children you've volunteered with died?" Brett looked a little pale. "Yes, children die all the time. But some don't. Some get well and live normal lives. These children need all the interaction and love they can get. It makes them stronger." Another thought hit Samantha. "Do you want to follow in your parents' footsteps and work for the Bureau?" Brett stopped and looked at her. "I don't know if I trust the Bureau enough to work for them. But there are a lot of unexplained happenings, unexplained illnesses, that need attention. I guess it all depends. There are other ways to go about it aside from the Bureau." Brett continued walking. "In a way, I know that my parents' quest is already a part of me. I could never ignore it. Have you thought about what you want to do?" "Not really. I guess it'll take me a while before I know what I actually enjoy, what I'm good at." Sam fiddled with her necklace. "Well, we're young. There's plenty of time to make life decisions." *************************** Mulder was pacing the waiting room, wondering where in the hell Brett and Samantha had gone and what kind of trouble they were causing. God, he already thought of the girl as Samantha. What would he do if she turned out not to be? More than that, what would he do if she was? He knew that *they* would probably want her. How was he ever supposed to protect her from them? He could barely keep his head above water with Scully and Brett. Things had been fairly quiet in recent months. This whole thing with Brett and Sam just seemed too circumspect to be a chance encounter. He wanted desperately to be able to believe in a benign and protective force that could have brought Samantha safely home...but he'd been distrustful for so long now that it was ingrained upon him. And he was disappointed in himself, in his inability to cope with this. He had hardly said two words to Samantha. He hadn't given her any encouragement, support....he hadn't even been able to express his emotions. The relief, the need to believe...and the love. Mulder hadn't loved many in his life. He loved Scully more than life. And Brett, not just because she was his daughter, but because she was their daughter, his and Scully's. He had at one time loved his parents unquestionably--but their love for him had been misleading, if they had loved him at all. Now he didn't even know how he felt about them. Had his father been deceived? Did he know what had really happened to Samantha, *had* he given her over to CancerMan's demented agenda? Or did no one really know? At times, Mulder hadn't even been sure he loved Samantha. His search for her had taken so much from him. But if it hadn't been for her disappearance, he may never have met Scully. But seeing her again, or what he wanted to believe was her, made him realize how much he did love her. She was now the only family he had. The Scully's, over the years, taught Mulder the importance of family. Scully came out into the waiting room and saw Mulder pacing. He seemed to sense her presence. One look into her eyes calmed him down a little. She walked over to him. "We'll know in about five minutes, Mulder. But there's something else, with Brett's blood sample. It's so strange, Mulder." She held out the file. "Her blood count was normal two days ago. Look at it now. Her white blood cell count is elevated. And the red count is low enough to suggest severe anemia." Scully looked anxiously at Mulder. "What do you think it means? I mean, how sick is she?" Horrible thoughts were running through Mulder's mind. "I don't know what it means. And neither does anyone else. All of the tests came back negative, and no foreign agents were detected in her blood. The counts are just....screwed up." She paused. "We're going to put her on a couple of prescriptions...to try to get the red count back up. We've seen elevated white counts a lot in abduction cases--and know that it's usually nothing serious." The way she stumbled over the word abduction didn't get past Mulder. He gave her arm a reassuring squeeze. If she really hasas been...teleporting...then that could account for the white blood cell count, I would think. And she's been under a lot of stress. These past few months have taken a lot out of her, Scully. We'll keep a close eye on her and make sure she gets plenty of rest. Let's not panic yet." "What you said makes sense, Mulder. But what about Samantha? The tests we ran on her blood were perfectly normal. She seems to have suffered no adverse effects from this. Why would Brett?" Mulder looked helpless. "I don't know, Scully." At that moment, the woman working in the lab motioned for Scully. Giving Mulder's hand another squeeze, Scully stepped back into the lab. Dr. Kent handed her the results. She took a deep breath and studied them closely. "It looks like--" Kent began. "Yeah, I guess so. If you'll excuse me, I want to go talk to my family." Scully rejoined Mulder in the waiting room. "Do you want to wait for the girls, or would you rather I tell you now?" Mulder couldn't tell anything from her expression. Her eyes were deliberately unreadable. "Now, please. I don't think I want to hear it first with them standing here." Scully took another deep, but shaky breath and finally met his gaze. "We've got a match, Mulder. Her DNA matches Samantha's exactly. It doesn't even show signs of having been tampered with or reconstructed." Mulder was shocked. He didn't know how to react. He just stood there, looking dumbfounded, waiting for a sign from Scully to let him know if this were a good thing or not. She didn't keep him waiting. "Did you hear what I said, Mulder? All the evidence substantiates it. She's Samantha." Scully smiled a little. That was all the encouragement he needed. Mulder wrapped one arm around her waist, placing the other hand on the back of her head, and crushed her to him. She wrapped her arms around him as well, holding him as tightly in return. Scully could feel him trembling. She ran her hands soothingly up and down his back. Thirty something years worth of built up tension began to drain out of him. This wasn't over, far from it. They still had lots of unanswered questions, but the guilt was no longer threatening to consume him. Scully knew he had been one hell of an agent and husband and father all along. But somehow she also knew that now he was going to be even better. Because now maybe he could let himself feel worthy of praise...and love. *************************** Samantha and Brett turned the corner to the waiting room, and saw Mulder and Scully holding onto each other as if their lives depended on it. This was it. Brett saw her parents break away from each other as they noticed her and Samantha. She bit her lip, feeling a little nervous herself. Samantha felt her knees buckle. She didn't think she could move a muscle if she had to. Her entire life was hanging in the balance...and she was more than a little scared. But before she even knew what was happening, she felt herself being scooped into an embrace and lifted from the ground. Mulder held onto his little sister with all his might. He was never going to let her go again. "Sam. Oh God, I can hardly believe it's really you." He felt the tears on his own face and didn't even care. The meaning of his words finally hit Samantha. Oh, God. She was finally home. She buried her face in his shoulder, and whispered, "I love you, Fox." "You, too, kid. You, too." That seemed to say it all. At least, it did for the two of them. For the other two women in Mulder's life, it was just the beginning. Neither Brett nor Scully really knew how to feel about this. Scully slumped down in a seat, feeling uncertain. Brett took a couple of steps back, for the first time in her life feeling insecure. What now? Mulder finally put Sam back down, keeping an arm around her shoulders. "Let's go home." He looked at Scully, smiling broadly, and held out his hand. She took it and immediately felt better. No matter what happened, or where they were, this was home for her--by Mulder's side. As long as they were together, everything else would fall into place. Mulder looked expectantly at Brett. A lot had changed, maybe more than he knew. Instead of reaching out to her father as she usually did, Brett fell into step beside her mother, not meeting Mulder's eyes. ********** end part 13 khughes@msms.doe.k12.ms.us or hughekd@okra.millsaps.edu ------------------------------ From: Kristie Hughes Date: Tue, 11 Jun 1996 00:07:38 -0500 Subject: The Persistence of Memory: Part 14/? -- Circles in the Sand DISCLAIMER: Forgive me Father, for I have sinned. Oh, wait, I'm not religious. ****************************************** The Persistence of Memory: Part 14/? -- Circles in the Sand by kris In the jeep, Sam chattered nonstop about various things. Were they going to stay in Maine for a while or go back to D.C.? Where would she go to school? Did she have to go to school? What grade would she be in? How old should she say she was? Could she have something to eat, she was starved. Scully widened her eyes and twisted in her seat at the rapid-fire questioning from Samantha. "Yes, you can have something to eat. To the best of our knowledge, you are sixteen years old...given what you said about when you showed up for the first time after your initial disappearance--and since your birthday was in January. Yes, you have to go to school. We'll deal with all that later. And you'll go to the same school Brett goes to, I would imagine. And it's up to you and Brett as far as how long we stay in Maine." Scully looked at Brett, who had said very little since leaving the hospital. "What do you think, Brett?" "Oh, it doesn't really matter to me. Maybe we could go back a few days early so you and Dad don't have to go back to work on Sam's first day at the house." She paused. "Besides, Sam has to buy clothes and decorate her room." Sam perked up. "Hey, I already have a room? What kind of house do you live in? Do we have a pool?" She looked thoughtfully at Scully. "Um, what should I call you? Do I have to call you Scully?" That got a smile from Scully. "No, Mulder calls me that because....well, I guess we've just been doing it so long that it's an endearment. Besides, calling each other by our first names would be as strange to us as other couples calling each other by their last names. You can call me Dana, if you like." "Okay." Mulder looked at Scully. "Where to, Doc?" Brett was looking pretty tired, but Scully knew they needed to do some shopping for Sam. "How about to a hotel to freshen up? Then we can go get some dinner and do some shopping to hold Sam over until we get back to D.C." ************************** An hour later, Brett lay on one bed in the room she was sharing with Sam for the night. Her head hurt, her throat was still sore, and she just felt so tired...even after all the sleep she'd had the night before. This whole thing was just so much to deal with. Samantha was brushing her teeth with a toothbrush she'd bought downstairs. Scully stuck her head in through the adjoining door. "Brett, you feeling okay?" "Yeah, I'm tired, though. What are you guys doing?" Brett sat up so she could see her mother. "Not much. Why don't you come in here for a minute? We need to talk to you about something." Brett followed Scully through the door. "What is it?" Mulder had showered and was sitting on the edge of the bed. "Your test results from the blood sample have us a little worried. Actually, it's pretty much just your red cell count--it's way too low. You have to take these pills for a while. It should make you less tired and has plenty of iron." She handed Brett the bottles of pills. "Can I see the results of those tests?" Taking them from Scully, Brett looked at the numbers. "Mom, how did I become anemic practically overnight?" "I don't know. If things aren't any better in a couple of days, we'll go home and let Dr. Carson do a complete work up. I guess this has all been kind of stressful on you, and your cold probably didn't help matters. Maybe your immune system is just a little out of whack right now." Scully sat on the couch next to Brett. Mulder looked at the circles under his daughter's eyes. She really looked sick. "How do you feel? Does anything hurt?" "My head hurts...and my throat. I'm sort of tired, but I'm okay. No big deal. I don't get sick a lot, so when I do it feels a lot worse than it is." Brett was still feeling a little uncomfortable with Mulder right then. Mulder seemed to sense that and patted the bed. "Want me to tell you a story? I can get you some milk and graham crackers....yum, yum." Brett smiled at him. When she was a little kid, she had lived on graham crackers and milk. Her mother wouldn't let her have any when she didn't eat her vegetables at dinner. So Mulder would sneak them into her room when he told her stories at night. "You always told the best stories, Dad. I always knew that 'spooky' streak of yours had a bright side." She stood up, hesitating a moment before sitting beside Mulder. He grabbed her hand and pulled her into his lap. "Do you think I'm spooky?" he asked, giving her the wounded puppy look. Always taken in by that look, Brett laughed. "No, I think you're nuts. But that's just my opinion. Dad, I'm too old to sit on your lap." She started to pull away. Mulder wouldn't let her go. "You're never too old to sit on my lap. You're my little girl. The only one I'll ever have. Now that I've got you here, why don't you tell me more about this Jamaican lover? Where can I find him so I can shoot him?" Scully laughed at him. "Yeah, like you could do that without losing your gun." She was right...he still had a propensity for losing his gun...and wrecking rental cars...and flashlights...and cell phones. Mulder did his tough guy FBI impression. "I could take him. How big could he be?" Brett shook her head. "Oh, he's about your height. But boy is he built. And tanned. Wow. And he looks great all soaking wet in his swimsuit...and out of it." She grinned like a cheshire cat. Mulder held her down. "That's it. You're grounded. No dates until you're thirty." Samantha came in about that time. "Why is she grounded?" "Well," Brett began, "my Jamaican lover and I couldn't decide on a birth control method, so Dad seems to have implemented the one of his choice. But that's okay. I'll get him back when I publish my novel." Mulder groaned. Oh, no. Not back to that. Sam looked confused and plopped down on the bed with them. "Brett, I mean this in the nicest of ways, but you are so strange." Brett looked indignant. "Hey, this from the girl who teleported for thirty years just so she could skip elementary school. No, I think my Rabbi would agree that I'm the normal one here." "Your Rabbi? You're Jewish?" Sam wasn't at all sure where she had gone wrong. What was she missing. Scully laughed and gave Sam a sympathetic look. "You obviously haven't had the pleasure of meeting Brett's sense of humor yet." Brett piped up. "Yeah, he's a madman, my sense of humor. His name is Jean-Claude. His previous owner was a French actor. That should tell you something," she deadpanned. Sam just looked at her as if she were nuts. "I have a bad feeling about you. I'm going to end up in all kinds of trouble hanging around you, aren't I?" "Well, you have psychic tendencies. Your bad feeling is probably just a premonition of a bad hair day. The D.C. humidity can really wreak havoc on your hair." Brett still never cracked a smile. Sam looked from Mulder to Scully and back again. "*Who* does she get this from?" "Not me," they said in unison, both a little too quickly. Scully got up to finish getting dressed. Mulder and Sam went to get ice and some soft drinks. Brett stretched out in the bed, thoughts wandering back over the past few days. Things had really changed a lot. When Mulder and Sam returned, they found Brett sound asleep on the bed where they had left her. "Scully, I think we've got a problem." Mulder gestured towards Brett's sleeping form. Scully smiled. At least she was resting. "Listen, why don't you guys go shopping." She looked at Sam. "Do not take his advice on anything regarding fashion. Let the salespeople help if need be." She paused. "I'll stay here with Brett. I don't want to wake her, and I certainly don't want to leave her alone right now," she said to Mulder. "Okay. We can pick up dinner on our way back. What do you feel like?" Mulder gathered up his wallet and keys. "Whatever is fine with me. I'm pretty tired myself." Scully yawned. ****************************** Two hours later, Mulder dragged himself into the hotel. He hated shopping. With Brett and Scully, it wasn't so bad. They weren't all that fond of it either. They just bought what they had come for and left. Sam was a different matter entirely. She seemed to really have a clothes fetish. Not to mention they had to buy a little bit of everything. He had finally given up and left her in the hands of a salesgirl for forty-five minutes and threatened to kill her if she wasn't done by then. It seemed to have worked. He was parcel-laden. And they had bought her some luggage, makeup...the whole nine yards. He was going to kill Scully for this. But it had been fun spending time with Samantha, getting to know what she liked. Mulder could tell that she was going to be very different from Brett. Brett was calm and self-contained all the time. Sam was like a bundle of energy, always wanting to talk, hopping from one subject to the next. It was going to be a weird adjustment. Brett was going to go insane, he guessed. She'd always been an only child. Sam's outgoing nature would probably drive her crazy within days. Stepping into the hotel room, Mulder saw that Brett was still sleeping on their bed. Scully must have really been tired. She was sleeping beside Brett, one arm flung off of the bed, red hair falling into her face. He smiled and went over to her, waving Chinese food under her nose as if it were smelling salts. That woke her up. "Mmmm. Yum. You're back. Did you buy anything?" Scully sat up, trying to get awake. Mulder grimaced. "Yeah, I'm going to have to take a second job just to pay off that credit card bill." Scully knew that wasn't true. They both made good money, of course, but Mulder's parents had apparently been very well off. "You could always try to make it as a stand up comedienne." Brett never moved. Scully kept thinking she would wake up and eat with them, but she didn't. Frowning, Scully tried to wake her up. Brett was a very light sleeper. "Hey, Brett. Wake up, you need to eat." She shook her a little, but she still didn't move. Oh, well. Maybe she did need to rest some more. *************************** Sam had modeled some of her new clothing for Scully and Mulder after dinner. "What do you think, Dana?" Scully smiled at the girl's enthusiasm. She had somehow managed to choose the trendiest styles for teenagers. Very different from Brett, who generally leaned towards simple and classic, much like Scully herself, though Brett would never admit it. "They all look great on you, Sam." Scully didn't know what else to say. It was true, Sam was very pretty and the clothes did look good on her--and seemed to fit her personality. But Scully wasn't accustomed to this sort of maternal duties. Sam seemed so much...more normal than Brett. And to Scully, normal was weird and unfamiliar. How on earth were she and Mulder going to manage two teenage girls? Mulder seemed to read her thoughts. "Scully, I just realized what this means." "What's that?" "We have not one but two teenagers now. What if I lose all my hair. Then I'll look like Skinner!" Scully snuggled into the crook of his arm, waiting for Samantha to reappear from the bathroom. "Well, I think Skinner's kind of sexy, you know. I always have." Mulder gave her a scowl. "Yeah, and I'm sure his wife thinks so, too. Why don't you leave Skinner alone--Sharon's a lot bigger than you." Scully gave *her* best I'm-an-FBI-agent-and-I-can-kick-your-butt look. "Well, I'm trained in unarmed combat. I think I could take her." The truth was, Scully and Sharon Skinner were very good friends. They had raised their children together, after all. And together, Brett and the two Skinner boys had been almost more than two mothers could handle. And two fathers. Brett had always struggled to keep up with the boys. Scully smiled fondly at the memories. She realized that in the years since she had married Mulder, she had almost as many good memories--memories filled with love and laughter--as she did bad memories. Maybe even more. Scully was shocked out of her reverie by the feel of Mulder's lips teasing her neck. She cocked her head to one side, allowing him better access and sighed contentedly before turning her head to meet his lips with her own. Mulder was amazed at the electric surge that still passed through him whenever Scully touched him, or looked at him in that way. God, how could it possible to love someone so much? He felt surely that if people actually had souls, his and Scully's were one and the same, and always had been, even before they met. "Scully?" he whispered seductively in her ear. "Hmm?" she leaned in to hear him better. "Do you believe in the existence of extra terrestrials?" Scully laughed, a deep, rich sound that Mulder tried so often to elicit from her, but rarely could. "Logically, I'd have to say no." "Conventional wisdom." He nipped at her ear. "However, I may have to reconsider." She arched her eyebrow at him. "Oh, yeah?" "Yeah....I have reason to believe that an E.B.E. has inhabited my husband's body and given him the sex drive of a twenty-one year old these past few days." "Is that a complaint, Agent Scully?" Mulder stopped kissing her neck to look her in the eyes. "Hardly, Agent Mulder. I just like to have all the facts. That's why I'm conducting a little investigation of my own." She scooted to sit on his lap. Mulder's expression turned serious. "Doc...I, I just, these past few days I realized that I don't show you nearly enough how much I love you. How you mean everything to me." Scully ran her hands along his arms. "You've never neglected me, Mulder. Every little look and touch we share tells me how much you care. You don't have anything to feel guilty about." Still, it felt good to know that through all of this, he still put their marriage at the top of his list. That their relationship was so important to him, that he didn't take her for granted, that he loved her. "I know, Scully. But I don't show it nearly enough, not in front of other people. And I don't say it enough. I shouldn't expect you to read my mind." Scully smiled at him. "Showing it in front of others isn't what counts. And with us, words aren't needed. They never were. And as far as reading your mind...I can read your eyes so well that I don't have to. But it does feel good to hear you say it. Loving you is the best thing that ever happened to me, Mulder. I hope you know that." Mulder engulfed her in a huge hug, wishing he could pick her up and take her to bed. But then he remembered the fifteen year old hellion sleeping in that bed. And Sam chose that exact moment to emerge from the bathroom. God, he may never be alone with Scully again, the way things were going so far. "Hey, did Brett wake up yet?" Sam walked in to sit on the other bed. Scully's brow wrinkled with worry. "No, she hasn't. Let me go check on her." She untangled herself from Mulder and walked into the other room. Mulder picked up a book Sam had bought at the mall to read the back cover. "Mulder! Can you come in here, please?" Scully's voice caught his attention--there was a strange tremble to it. One he didn't hear very often and didn't care to. It took a lot to make Dana Scully fearful. He quickly went into their room to see Scully pacing by the bed. Brett was still asleep. "I can't wake her up, Mulder. I've tried and tried and I just can't." Mulder put a hand on her shoulder to ground her a little. "It's okay, Scully. I'm sure she's fine." He turned to Brett. "Brett, wake up, come on, you need to get up." He shook her a little and raised his voice. "Brett!!! Can you hear me?" She still didn't move. He checked for a pulse, not wanting Scully to see him do that. He could have sworn it was a little weak. "You're right, Scully, I think something's wrong. Why don't you call an ambulance. We shouldn't try to move her ourselves." *************************************** Scully rode to the hospital in the ambulance with Brett; Mulder and Sam followed behind in the Jeep. Scully couldn't even process what the paramedics were saying. All she could think about was the needles they were sticking into Brett's arm. She was really going to be ticked if she woke up. But Scully just knew something was very wrong. This was her worst fear, that something would happen to Brett that she would never be able to explain or to fix. Suddenly Mulder's arm was around her waist again, and she pushed the fear aside. Once inside, Dr. Kent was called in and he made sure Brett was stable before speaking to Mulder and Scully. "I'm not sure what induced this, but she seems to have slipped into a coma. Her brain waves are somewhat...well, erratic. I'm not sure how to explain it, really. Is there anything you can tell me about her medical history that may help us to treat her?" Dr. Kent looked expectantly at Mulder and Scully. Scully didn't answer him. She simply issued a command. "I want you to do x-rays immediately. Then let me look at them." Mulder knew what she was thinking and felt fear tighten in his gut--along with the need to make all of Scully's hurt go away. Dr. Kent just looked at Scully. "Why do you want to do that? Has she suffered any recent head injuries?" "Dammit, I don't have time for this." Scully was fighting for control, and it was evident in her voice. "This thing could be killing my daughter even as we speak. Just do what I asked." "Yes, ma'am," he stammered. He was so confused. And who the hell did these people think they were? They were obviously withholding information regarding his patient. But Dr. Dana Scully-Mulder did not look like a woman to be trifled with at the moment. Mulder watched as they x-rayed Brett, trembling slightly. He could feel the Scully next to him, her body rigid. Dr. Kent looked at the x-rays, even more confused. Scully snatched them from his hands. "There, Mulder. It wasn't there two days ago." She pointed to the x-ray of Brett's neck, that revealed to them what seemed to be a metallic implant--exactly like the one that had been found in Scully all those years ago. "We have to remove it immediately," she said to Dr. Kent. When he didn't move, but looked as if he were going to protest, she silenced him with one of her withering glances. "If you do not remove it immediately, I will do so myself." "All right. It's okay, Agent Scully. We'll take care of it. Why don't you and Mr. Mulder wait right outside." He spoke to her soothingly, as if she were a child. Something inside of Scully snapped. Did this man not understand urgency when he heard it? Mulder felt the change in Scully and reached for her arm before she could do something drastic. "When my wife says remove it immediately, Dr. Kent, she means immediately. And unless you want *me* to hold you personally responsible for any harm that comes to my daughter by way of your inaction, I suggest you listen to her. We will remain in the room." A thousand thoughts ran through Mulder's head. He sent a silent plea to whatever force may be out there that Brett would come through this safely. **************** end part 14 khughes@msms.doe.k12.ms.us or hughekd@okra.millsaps.edu ------------------------------ From: Kristie Hughes Date: Tue, 11 Jun 1996 04:05:23 -0500 Subject: The Persistence of Memory: Part 15/15 -- Time Warp DISCLAIMER: please forgive me, i know not what i do. let's get this show on the road. for those of you who are sick of this story, it's almost done. i had intended on not making sam actually sam, but changed my mind and am now pulling this stuff right off the top of my head as i type. sorry. let me know if you have any plot requests. there will be an epilogue to this. ******************** The Persistence of Memory: Part 15 by kris--wanted in three states for causing nervous breakdowns in airport security guards. Scully stared down at the implant that had just been removed from her fifteen year old daughter's neck. This could *not* be happening. Please, God. Let this be a bad dream. She glanced up at Mulder, and closed the space between them. He took her into his arms, and backed up, dropping into a chair, pulling Scully into his lap. Scully buried her face in his neck and tried to calm her breathing. Mulder tightened his hold on her, feeling as if he were going to be sick. Why did this have to happen? Sam watched her brother and Dana with wide eyes. What *was* that thing? How had it gotten in Brett's neck? Mulder spoke quietly to Scully. "We need to have Samantha checked." "I know, Mulder. Let's do that now, okay? Then we can go upstairs and sit with Brett." Scully picked her head up as Mulder motioned for Sam to come sit by them. "Sam, we need to have you x-rayed, okay? We don't want to scare you, but if you have one of these implants, we need to know now so we can remove it." Mulder touched her arm comfortingly. "O-okay." Her voice faltered a bit. "Will you come in with me, Fox?" "Of course." Scully got up off of his lap so he could stand. Ten minutes later, Mulder stood looking at the x-rays with Scully. "Nothing, Mulder. I don't think they've gotten to her yet." Mulder felt relieved that Sam didn't have the implant. But that really didn't mean that they hadn't gotten to her, did it? And at the same time, he felt guilty for being relieved when Brett was upstairs and they had no idea what her condition was. He turned to Sam. "Everything's fine, Sami. Let's go up to see Brett now." They hurried to the elevator, and when they stepped out, the commotion going on stopped them in their tracks. Dr. Kent was yelling at the nurse's station, looking frantic. "How on earth did you lose a girl who was in a coma?" He ran his fingers through his hair. This meant he had to deal with the girl's parents--and he particularly did not want to deal with her mother. Mulder and Scully felt their stomachs drop as they put the pieces together. Oh God. Not this. Not again. A nurse was trying to calm Dr. Kent. "No one came through here, Doctor. I'm telling you. She couldn't have left the hospital. I can see into her room," she pointed to the glass where the blinds were open, the hospital bed empty. "And I've been here the whole time." Mulder rushed to the nurse's station, "Are you sure no one came through here?" "Yes, sir. I'm positive. I...There is no outlet at the end of that hall. They'd have had to have walked right by me." The nurse looked on the verge of tears. "We believe you," Scully managed. She looked at Mulder, ignoring Dr. Kent. "I guess we need to talk to security, make sure she isn't still in the building. After that, we call Skinner, the local police. I don't know, Mulder." She looked helpless. She knew that if *they* had her, they weren't going to find her any time soon. Mulder was trying to think. He didn't really believe anyone had walked in here and taken Brett. But how else could she have....He looked at Samantha. "What are the chances that she teleported out of here?" Sam blinked. "What?" "Well, you know more about this than we do." Mulder had steered them away from the hospital employees. Scully looked skeptical, but was willing to consider anything if it meant getting Brett back safely. "I don't know. I mean, I never had any control over that. Brett seemed to, though. I mean, she had been thinking about it...and seemed to be able to influence it through her will." She shrugged, feeling helpless. Mulder chewed on his bottom lip. A thought struck Sam. Could she reach out to Brett? She wanted to try, but didn't know where to begin. She had never had to try before. She concentrated, but that didn't work. Then she concentrated on not concentrating and that still didn't work. She looked back to Dana and Fox. "I'm sure that if she teleported, she'll try to contact you guys as soon as she figures out where she is." Scully looked at the girl. "Not if she's still unconscious, Samantha. We have to find her. With the medical state she was in, if she's outside, she could die of exposure in no time." ************************** Brett felt a rush in her head. She looked around. Well, I actually am getting good at this. She was back in her parents' hotel room. Maybe it had all been a dream. The doctors, the needles. The lights. It seemed so real. She shivered. Where was everyone? Getting slowly to her feet, Brett was surprised that her legs felt a little wobbly. She walked into the adjoining room but found it empty. With a sigh, she picked up the phone and dialled her mother's cellular number. Someone picked up on the first ring. "Scully." It didn't exactly sound like her mother's voice...it sounded funny. Like something was wrong. "Mom? Where'd you guys go? I woke up and you weren't here. Why didn't you leave me a note?" Brett was feeling a little annoyed...and a little scared. Her neck was hurting, and she couldn't figure out why. "Brett! Where are you?" Scully covered the phone. "Mulder, it's Brett." "What do you mean where am I? Where are you? I'm still at the hotel. Why did you leave me alone like that?" "Brett, how are you feeling?" Scully was really shocked. Brett shouldn't even have been awake, much less moving around and talking. "A lot better. I...Mom, please, can you come back here. I--I don't want to be alone." "Brett, we're on our way. STAY in the room." Scully disconnected and rushed out of the hospital. ******************************* Brett sat with her knees drawn up to her chest. She remembered waking up, and the lights being bright. Everything had looked so sterile...just like...like what? God, she couldn't remember. There had been an I.V. in her arm. She held it up to the light to search for a new puncture wound. There was still a needle in the top of her right hand. No, this hadn't been a dream. But it was certainly a nightmare. She heard a key turn in the lock and her parents rushed in. Mulder looked at Brett, knees drawn up, looking all the world like a very scared child. He'd never seen her scared...really scared. He hugged her to him. "Do you have any idea what happened?" She shook her head, and held out a trembling hand, trying to show them the I.V. needle. "Look." "What?" Scully asked. She touched the needle with her left fingertips. "This. What do you think they did to me?" Her bottom lip quivered and Scully could tell she was trying not to cry. "Oh, Brett, no. Sweetie, listen to me, okay? Nothing has happened to you. *They* didn't do that. We couldn't get you to wake up, so we took you to the hospital. You had somehow slipped into a coma. They put the I.V. in you there." She touched the girl's face. Brett felt a little silly for overreacting, but there was something in her mother's eyes that set off warning bells. "There's something else you're not telling me. What is it? Why does my neck hurt?" Scully braced herself. "When they x-rayed you, they found an implant in your neck. We think that's what was making you so sick." Brett pursed her lips. "I want to see it." Mulder hesitated, looking at Scully, then handed the vial to Brett. Brett studied it. "It couldn't have been there for more than two days. I was x-rayed at home the day before we left." "I know. Your mom told me." Mulder didn't know what else to say to her. He knew better than to give her any false assurances. Brett nodded. "At least we have some idea of when it had to have happened." Scully looked at her, then at Sam, who was standing awkwardly by the door. She had no idea who *they* were and wished she didn't ever have to know. "Brett, you have to go back and let them check you over. There's no way you should have recovered that quickly. Do you remember waking up at the hospital?" "Yes. I woke up, and saw the bright lights, the I.V. The open blinds, like someone was watching me. And I panicked. I just wanted to be back here, safe in your room. I know I should have thought things through, but instinct just took over. And I was back here, just like I wanted." She looked at her dad. "Do I have to go back there? I'm not staying there. I don't trust Dr. Kent." "You don't have to stay. And we won't let you out of our sight this time, all right?" Mulder hugged her again. "Okay." Brett stood up. "Might as well get this over with." ************************* An hour and a half later, they were all exhausted. All any one of them wanted to do was sleep. But they knew sleep would be long in coming that night. The doctor had checked Brett over, only to find that nothing was wrong. Not even her blood count. The red count was back up to a relatively normal level. The white cell count was down some. It just didn't make sense. He found her to be in almost perfect health. There was nothing to show that she had ever been sick, except for the remnants of a cough and the two stitches in her neck. Dr. Kent was flabbergasted. Scully and Mulder were just relieved that they could take Brett with them. Dr. Kent wanted to keep her for observation, but Brett had made such a scene that he relented on his own. Scully couldn't help but wonder if she would ever be able to let Brett out of her sight again without being paralyzed by fear. But she knew they couldn't watch her sleep every night, be with her every second of the day. Brett walked into the hotel room and got the leftover Chinese from the fridge. She noticed her parents' giving her a strange look. "Okay, guys. Lay off. I don't know what happened, but I'm fine now. Yes, I had a pretty big scare, and yes, I realize that my paranoia about hospitals and doctors indicates that something else happened during those three missing months. But right now, there is nothing we can do. I know you guys are worried, and I'm sorry to have put you through all of this. This has been the longest day in history." Mulder couldn't help but smile. Straight to the point, not even bothering to avoid the issue. That was Brett, all right. "None of this was your fault, Brett. You know that. And yes, we're very worried. So forgive us for hovering just this once, all right?" Scully felt like she was on the verge of collapsing. She edged into the bathroom and was violently sick. This was having a much bigger effect on her. She had avoided dealing with her own abduction for so long, and she couldn't help feeling that if she had faced it earlier, Brett might not have been going through this now. Brett had noticed how pale Scully had been. She had a pretty good idea what her mother must be going through. Almost eighteen years worth of fear had been brought to the surface for Scully when they had found that implant. Brett slipped into the bathroom, leaving Mulder trying to reassure Sam. "Mom?" She saw Scully sitting in the bathroom floor, knees drawn up. "Oh, Mom, please don't do this to yourself. This is no more your fault than mine, okay?" Scully shook her head. "No, it isn't. We've both been violated by this. And the worst of it is that we don't know how we've been violated, or if there's more to come. But we're okay now. And that's what counts, right?" Brett told herself to be strong, not to break down in front of Scully. But she could feel the emotions, just below the surface, threatening to spill over. "I've always known that something like this could happen, Mom. But you and Dad, you've always made me feel safe. Some kids can't ever say that about their lives. So they haven't won. And they're not going to." Scully felt the anxiety attack ebb at the sound of Brett's voice. Brett seemed to know that even though what she said wouldn't make that much difference, the sound of her voice would. Scully felt Brett's hand slip into her own. "Okay, I'm all right now. And you're right, I know. But it just...makes me feel like I've failed you." "Hey, how many times have you told Dad that as long as he loves us, he could never fail us? Don't you believe what you've preached? It goes for you, too, Mom." Brett smiled at Scully. Scully gave a wobbly half-smile. "How can you trust me to protect you, though?" "It's not about protection. It's just about....trust. And I trust you and Dad completely. I know you'll take care of me, even when I'm stubborn and don't want you to. You've taught me that you know. How to trust. You and Dad trust each other so completely, love each other so completely. That's the best any parents can do for their children, show them the important things. Who to trust, how to love." Scully looked at Brett. Why did she suddenly feel like the child here? "And I know that you don't like not knowing. That this is tearing you apart inside. I don't know what I can do to make it better, Brett." "Mom?" "Yes?" "Do you...umm, never mind." Brett averted her gaze. Scully noticed. "What? Ask me." "Aaah....well, do you, uh....do you like me?" Brett fidgeted. "What do you mean? Of course I like you. You're my daughter." Scully looked puzzled. "No, I mean, do you love me?" Brett bit her bottom lip. Scully felt like someone had punched her. How could her daughter even think...was she really such a lousy mother? "Brett, I love you so much that sometimes I don't know how to handle it. I always hoped you knew that." "I guess I did. But it seems like I've cost you so much. How can you not resent me? How can you not regret it?" These were tough questions, Brett knew, but she wanted to get some of it off her chest. "*You* have cost me nothing that I wasn't willing to give. Could you ever think I'd regret marrying Mulder, in light of everything that's happened since I met him? That I could regret loving him?" Scully wondered how she could convince Brett. "No, I know you'd never regret that. He's a part of you." Brett said simply. "Exactly. You're a very smart person, Brett. Can you not see that you're as much a part of me as he is? That you're as much a part of our love?" Scully thought she might be getting through that thick skull after all. Brett felt the tears, but she couldn't stop a couple of them from rolling down her face. She never cried, she hated it. She cocked her head a little to the side, feeling sort of awkward. "I love you, Momma. I hope you know that." Scully smiled at her, her own eyes wet. "Well, I kind of hoped you did." Mulder walked into the bathroom. "What are you doing in here?" He reached a hand down to help them each up. "Counting the tiles," Brett said as she walked back into the room. "That kind of stuff is important sometimes." Mulder looked quizically at Scully, who in return put her head down on his chest and cried. He could make out Sam and Brett talking in the other room over Scully's soft sobs. "Don't tell me you're going to watch that mind candy." Brett looked disgustedly at the television set. "Oh, great intellectual one, did you have a better idea?" Sam looked up from the set. Brett plopped down on the other bed and tossed her a book. Sam picked it up. "The Communist Manifesto? You have to be kidding me." "War and Peace?" "It's going to be war if you don't give me back that remote." Sam tried to regain control of it. "Shouldn't you lie down and try to heal yourself or something?" "Whatever." Brett yawned. "Hey Sam?" "What?" "Do you know how to waterski?" Sam looked surprised at the question. "No, I tried a couple of times when I was little, but never quite got the hang of it." "Oh." Brett flipped open her science fiction book and started to read. "Brett?" Sam sat cross-legged, facing her. "Hmm?" "Do you believe in the existence of extra terrestrials?" Sam looked at her seriously. Brett tried to hide a grin. "Logically, I'd have to say no. Given the distances needed to travel from the far reaches of space, the energy requirements would exceed a spacecraft's capabilities." Then she burst out laughing. Sam was really confused. "You are so strange." Mulder tightened his arms around Scully, feeling the trembling start up again. He tilted her head up so he could see her face. She was laughing. Mulder thought she'd never looked more beautiful than she did standing there, hair disheveled, laughing through her tears. He leaned down and kissed her lips. "Poor Sam. Of all the families to be stuck with," he mused. Scully kissed him back, running her tongue lightly over his lips. "She couldn't have picked a better one, I'd have to say." Mulder knew that things would never be easy for them. There would always be some element of danger that they could not control. But they sure as hell wouldn't let it control them. And he and Scully would never stop searching. The answers were there. You just had to know where to look. But for the moment, Mulder didn't care to look any farther than right in front of him. He had all he needed, and all he'd ever wanted. "Come on, Scully. Let's go check on our girls. Then we can get to bed." He tugged on her hand. She allowed herself to be pulled back into his warmth, her arm around his waist. "Are you planning on doing something to me that'll help me sleep, Agent Mulder?" "Well, we can negotiate. You know, tit for tat, Dr. Scully. You scratch my back, I'll scratch yours," Mulder grinned slyly. Scully lifted an eyebrow. "Tit for tat, indeed. And I definitely intend to scratch *your* back, Agent Mulder." ************* end! yea! look for the epilogue! and let me know what you think. i know it's horrible to leave them not knowing anything, really, but i wanted to pay tribute to the x-files fashion. hughekd@okra.millsaps.edu or khughes@msms.doe.k12.ms.us ------------------------------ From math.ohio- state.edu!howland.erols.net!vixen.cso.uiuc.edu!cdc2.cdc.net!imci4!newsfeed.internetmci.com!ne ws.ycc.ya le.edu!yale!news-mail-gateway!daemon Wed Aug 14 11:41:46 1996 Article: 22821 of alt.tv.x-files.creative Path: math.ohio- state.edu!howland.erols.net!vixen.cso.uiuc.edu!cdc2.cdc.net!imci4!newsfeed.internetmci.com!ne ws.ycc.ya le.edu!yale!news-mail-gateway!daemon From: Gil Trevizo Newsgroups: alt.tv.x-files.creative Subject: The Persistence of Memory -- Epilogue (1/2) Hearts Asunder (fwd) by Kristie Hughes Date: 13 Aug 1996 19:39:46 -0400 Organization: Yale CS Mail/News Gateway Lines: 485 Sender: daemon@cs.yale.edu Message-ID: <19960813193941.aaaa004PT@babyblue.cs.yale.edu> NNTP-Posting-Host: babyblue.cs.yale.edu Status: RO I DID NOT WRITE THIS - I am the administrator for the x-files-fanfic mailing list and am posting this story for a subscriber. For information on the mailing list, go to http://mail.utep.edu/~trevizo/x-files. Please do not send comments for the author to me -- send them to (hughekd@okra.millsaps.edu). You may direct requests for missing parts to me though. __________ / __ __ \ ( (__) (__) ) --------[[[---------]]]------------------------------------------------- DISCLAIMER: brett and the skinner boys belong to me. everyone else belongs to cc and 1013 productions...i mean them no harm. CATEGORY: MSR, i suppose AUTHOR'S NOTES: remember this story?? why didn't anyone remind me that i never posted the epilogue? i had all but the last scene written and came across it today while i was rummaging through my notebook. here it is....let me know what you think... ***************************** The Persistence of Memory -- Epilogue (1/2) Hearts Asunder by kris Brett Scully-Mulder banged on the bedroom door next to her own. "Sam! Would you *please* turn that music down?" She banged again. "Samantha!!" The only response she got was the volume being turned up louder. Brett muttered under her breath as she stomped down the stairs, not giving her parents a second glance as she passed through the den and down into the basement. A few seconds later, Mulder and Scully heard Sam shriek, then come flying down the stairs. Brett reappeared and sank down into her favorite armchair, opening the book she was reading. Sam skidded to a halt in front of her, glaring. "Brett, that isn't funny. Fix it NOW." Brett gave her an innocent look. "I have no idea what you're talking about." Sam aimed a pout at Mulder. "She cut the power in my room." Scully kept reading, knowing better than to get involved. She felt like World War III had broken out between Samantha and Brett these past few weeks. They were just so different--it was taking some time for the two girls to adjust to cohabitation. Mulder put down the file he was studying and pinched the bridge of his nose. "Brett, did you cut the power in Sam's room?" Brett didn't look up from her book. "I deny everything." Sam stamped her foot. "She's being impossible, Fox." She tossed her head, soft brown curls cascading to just above her shoulders. Samantha had gotten her hair cut to above her shoulders, and her natural waves had tightened into gorgeous curls without the added weight. She insisted that the hairstyle was quite trendy at the moment. Even Brett had to admit that the new cut did Sam justice. She was a knockout. Brett turned the page, looking at Sam over the top of the paperback. "No. *You* are being impossible. I was giving you a taste of your own medicine." Sam scowled at her. "I get the picture. Now turn it back on." Brett looked unconvinced. "Are you going to turn the music down?" Samantha glared again. "Yes, Brett," she said sweetly. "I will turn the music down. I would hate to interrupt your precious peace and quiet." Brett went back downstairs and threw the breaker. Scully winced when she heard the music start blaring from Sam's open bedroom door. It was a wonder the girl wasn't deaf. The phone rang and Sam raced to get it. "Hello?" Her brow wrinkled. "Yes, she's here. Hang on." She handed the phone to Brett. "It's for you." Brett put the phone to her ear, still reading her book. "Hello?" Scully saw Brett's expression change as she recognized the voice on the phone. Brett smiled slowly. "Is that a fact or just your humble opinion?" She paused. "Uh-huh. Give me a break. Stop buttering me up and just tell me what you want.....because I know you. And you want something from me. Flattery will get you everywhere. Isn't that your motto? So, what gives?" I thought you were still out of town." She listened for a full five minutes. "God, you're longwinded. But yes, I'll go with you. Give me fifteen minutes, okay?" Brett hung up the phone, shaking her head. The suspense was killing Sam. "So, who was that?" Brett started reading her book again. "My Jamaican lover. He wants me to help him smuggle precious jewels out of the country." Samantha scowled at her...again. Scully smiled. "Does this Jamaican fella have a name?" Grinning, Brett's eyes twinkled at her mother. "Yeah, his name is Chris." Scully knew what that meant. Chris Skinner was back from his trip to Greece. "When did he get in?" "Twenty minutes ago. He's ticked because he drove all the way home from the airport, only to find a message from his parents telling him to pick Cade up from the airport. He wants me to ride with him." Mulder spoke up. "I guess that means the whole Skinner clan will be here for dinner tonight." Sharon and Walter Skinner had already been planning to come over later. Brett slipped on her shoes. "Probably." The doorbell rang and she hurried to answer it. Chris Skinner was tall and dark, already over six feet and well built at just under seventeen. Scully knew how gorgeous Brett's girl friends though he was--and how they envied Brett for spending so much time with him. And Brett always rolled her eyes, saying she knew him when he used to wet the bed. Chris scooped Brett up into a hug and gave her a long look. Putting her down, he walked around her and gave her a once over. "There's something different about you," he drawled. "No, don't tell me. Hey, you got your hair cut--and it looks lighter. You know I like your hair long." Brett scowled. "Oh, yeah. And my sole purpose in life is to please you." She swatted him playfully. She'd only had an inch taken off her hair, but Chris always noticed. They youngest Skinner grinned. "You know I'm teasing. You look great, as always." He walked into the den and dropped a kiss onto Scully's cheek. "Hi, Dana. How have you been?" Scully smiled up at him. "Fine. How was your trip?" "Wonderful. But did you know that there are no redheads in Greece? I think I was suffering from withdrawals." He feigned a pained look. Mulder stood up and slapped Chris on the back. "I completely understand your predicament." "That'll teach you to stay closer to home next time, Christopher," Brett said tartly. All the time, Sam was stainding in the background, anxiously waiting to be introduced. Chris Skinner was certainly an eyeful. Mulder turned and put his arm around Sam, including her in the conversation. "Chris, this is my sister Samantha. Sam, Chris Skinner." Chris raised his eyebrows in confusion but quickly recovered. "It's nice to meet you, Samantha." He turned to Brett, "Are you ready to go? Cade's flight will be in soon." Scully spoke up again. "I can't believe that Cade is coming home." Cade Skinner had been a touchy subject for the past four years. Four years older than Chris, their father had always expected Cade to follow in his footsteps and have a career in the military. Cade had surprised both his mother and his father when he had refused to join the military *or* go to college. Instead, as far as they knew, he was a commercial pilot and flew internationally out of several European cities. Chris shook his head. "Neither can I, Dana. Sam, it was nice meeting you. I'll probably see you later tonight." ****************************** Chris glanced over at Brett. Something just wasn't right with her. She hadn't even complained about his driving. "Brett?" "Hmm?" Brett looked absently out the window, watching the other cars pass by. "You seem pretty quiet. Is something wrong? I mean, you've been, I don't know, distant for a while...and now...." Chris grimaced. Brett was always pretty distant, and he knew her about as well as anyone. But lately it had been even more pronounced...like it was deliberate. Brett knew he was referring to Samantha. "I know what you're asking, Chris. But I," she cleared her throat, feeling guilty. "I'm just not ready to discuss this." Chris tightened his jaw. "i understand." But really he didn't. He'd never understand Brett's refusal to open up, even to him. "But it's really her?" he asked, referring to Samantha. Brett stared at him intensely. "I hope so, Chris. For all our sakes, I certainly hope we haven't been misled." ********************************** Scully stood in the kitchen, trying to decide what they needed from the supermarket. In the backround, she could hear Mulder and Samantha talking animatedly. Well, Sam was actually doing most of the talking. She'd already made some friends her age and was retelling a story from last night. So far, Samantha hadn't shown any signs of trauma from her missing years. That made Scully even more nervous. She had this inexplicable sense of foreboding. Either this would all come down on Sam at once, or...Scully didn't even want to thnk about the or. Then there was Brett. Scully had the feeling that her daughter wass on the brink of buckling under all the pressure and change. Sure, Brett was tough, but Scully wasn't sure she was tough enough to withstand her entire world being turned upside down. And while things were better between herself and her daughter, Brett had retreated into the solitude of her own mind. Normally, she wouldn't worry so much about it. But Brett wasn't even interacting with Mulder these days. In fact, she was shying away from her father more and more. Scully didn't think Brett had said two words to Mulder all week. Not that Mulder had noticed; he'd been flying so high since Sam returned. All his free time had been spent with his sister, as if he were trying to make something up to her, not just trying to re-establish a relationship...still feeling guilty for something he had no control over. Whether Mulder realized it or not, this time he was spending with Samantha was at the expense of his daughter...and his wife, Scully thought, feeling childish but unable to help it. Face it, she had been the object of Mulder's attentions for so long now that this extended family was requiring some major adustments. Brett was *theirs*...a product of their love, their trust, their utter devotion to only each other. Scully was happy--very happy--that Mulder could now start healing the wounds that ran so deep. But there was so much they still didn't know. And she sense Mulder wasn't as driven as he was before. Perhaps he was as afraid as she of what they may find. But a small part of her was crushed that he didn't feel the same need to help her--and Brett--fine the resolution and peasce that they needed to move on. A knock at the side door brought Scully out of her reverie. She smiled and waved for Sharon Skinner to let herself in. "Hi, Dana," the slim, blue-eyed woman said, dropping her bag onto the bar. "Hi, Sharon. Where's Skinner?" "He had some errands to run, so he dropped me off. He should be back soon." She glanced around. "have you heard from Chris yet?" Scully smiled. "The moment he got in. Brett went with him to the airport to get Cade." She checked her watch. "They've been gone almost two hours." Sharon shook her head. "chris is so protective of her. Always has been. Both of the boys are," she said absently. "And Brett resents every bit of it. Too stubborn for her own good," Scully added. The brunette rolled her eyes. "Wherever does she get it?" Laughter from the other room caught her attention. She and Walter had met Samantha already. "It's going to be strange having everyone together, huh?" ************************* Out by the grill, Scully tried to approach Mulder. Humming, hediffed her backwards and kissed her neck. She wrapped her arms around him tightly. "Mulder, we have to talk." HE noted her serious look and straightened up. "What's wrong, Scully?" She didn't know how to begin. "It's about us, our family. I'm worried, Mulder--about all of us. Brett, Samantha...even you." She took a deep breath, then ventured on. "I know you're happy to have her back, Mulder, but don't ignore the problems. I don't want to see you set yourself up for a fall. Things aren't perfect right now. *And* I'm especially worried about Brett. We can't just forget everything she's been through, no matter how happy we are to have Sam with us." Mulder looked at her, then shrugged. "I think you're overreacting, Scully. Things just need time. We all do." Scully sighed, frustrated. "We do need time, you're right. But that's not enough. We have to deal with all of this--as a family--or we're never going to be one. Same does need you right now. But so does Brett." She paused. "We can't let the past repeat itself, Mulder. We can't leave Brett--or Sam--to deal with this. Our quest brought them into this. And they are the ones who are going to suffer if we ignore it, if we don't continue our search to find the answers." She gave him a pleading look, begging him not to make her do this alone. Mulder flinched at the sting of the words, then did something totally unexpected, something Scully never thought him capable of. He grabbed her roughly by the arm, his fingers biting into the bare flesh. "Why are you doing this to me?" he said loudly, his voice full of anger. "I am finally happy, for once, and you want me to plunge back into that darkness. That terror. And I can't; I won't." He let her go abruptly with a harsh shove. Scully was dumbfounded. And that was the only thing that kept her tears from falling. He was giving up. Then she realized something that broke her heart. His truth didn't include her. He'd told her that from their very first case. Her face drained of emotion, Scully turned away from him, giving him one last look. "I see," she said, before walking into the house. *********************** Brett had been sitting by the pool, looking at Chris's pictures from Greece, when she heard her father yelling. She had never seen him physically take his anger out on her mother before, and it scared her. Brett couldn't quite figure out what her mother had said to upset him, but she'd definitely heard his part. She watched as Mulder knocked a flower pot to the concrete, shattering it. Excusing herself, Brett went in search of Scully. On the way inside, she stepped on a piece of the broken ceramic, causing blood to gush from her foot. Mulder heard her and went to help. Brett shrugged his hand from her shoulders and closed the door behind her. As much as she hated choosing sides between her parents, she knew she had to. She could see Scully talking quietly with Skinner in the den. Sharon noticed her foot and stood up from the table where she was talking to Cade. "I'm fine," Brett assured her. "I just stepped on a piece of a broken flower pot." Sharon bandaged the foot for her, noticing the girl was shaking slightly. "Brett, what's the matter?" Brett shrugged it off. She'd always been close to Sharon, but wouldn't even know where to begin with this. "Nothing. I need to speak to my mother." Knocking on the bedroom door Scully had just entered, Brett felt her stomach churning anxiously. "Mom?" she stepped cautiously into the room. Scully's eyes were filled with tears. She looked so small and dejected that it frightened Brett even more. Her mother was supposed to be invincible. "I'm fine, Brett." Brett sat down next to her. "Yeah, I couldn't help but overhear how 'fine' you are." Scully looked up sharply. "It's not about you, Brett. You haven't done anything." "I know that, Mom." Brett sighed. "What do you need me to do?" Closing her eyes for a moment, Scully let out a quivery breath. "I want you to go away with me for a while." Brett nodded numbly, never expecting this day to come. "Okay." Scully felt like she was dying inside. "We need to get away for a while, I think. But if you don't agree, I'll consider another alternative." She searched for the right words. "He loves you, Brett. He's your father, and no matter what, he needs to be a part of your life, for his sake and for yours." Brett didn't quite look at her. "I'm not staying here without you, Mom. I can't." "Good, because I'm not leaving you here right now, not in the middle of this. We can leave first thing in the morning." Brett figured Scully had asked Skinner for a leave of absence. She touched her mother's hand, then stood to leave. "Mom?" she turned back at the door. "Are we coming back here?" Scully put her hands over her face, willing the tears not to fall. "I don't know," she said softly. *********************** Somehow, they made it through dinner. Brett and Sam cleaned the kitchen in silence. Chris could sense that something was wrong and pulled Brett aside, trying to draw her into a hug. Brett felt so betrayed and hurt at the moment that she couldn't stand being touched, so she pushed hard against Chris. "Leave me alone, Chris." "Brett, it'll be okay. They'll get through this. I know they've had fights before." Chris had witnessed the fiasco in the backyard as well. Hell, everyone in the neighborhood had probably heard her father yelling. Brett's hurt hardened into anger. "You don't know shit about my family, Christopher Skinner." Her voice carried through to the den where Skinner and Sharon were sitting awkwardly. Skinner was surprised to hear Brett losing her temper. She was usually cool under pressure, like her mother. He knew how rough this was on her. Unlike most kids today, her parents' marriage was the basis of her strength--the one thing she could depend on. After what she'd been through, this must seem like the final blow. Chris tried again, putting his hand on her shoulder. "That's only because you won't let me in, Brett. You don't have to go through this alone." He spoke softly, but his voice still carried. Brett pushed him away again. "Don't fucking touch me, Chris. Just leave me alone." Scully was standing at a window in the den and turned on her heel at Brett's outburst. She was pretty stunned herself. She knew not to approach Brett right now. Mulder, however, didn't. Scully caught his movement towards their daughter out of the corner of her eye. "Mulder, don't," she warned, starting towards him. Mulder ignored her warning. This was his little girl, and he couldn't just stand there, knowing he was to blame, and not do anything. He reached out to her just as Chris was about to walk away. "Baby, it's okay." Brett looked horrified as she realized everyone had seen her lose her control. She bit her lip, considering her options. The way she saw it, it didn't really matter at this point. Everyone knew she was upset. She backed away from Mulder. "No, leave me alone. I want everyone to just leave me alone." Mulder didn't even think; he just wanted to make her stop hurting. "Brett, I'm sorry." "Don't apologize to me. I'm not the one you need to apologize to. I don't even want to even talk to you," she yelled. The words cut him deeply, she knew. But his behavior outside had cut their family even deeper--and her mother. Brett's voice trembled slightly, her eyes refusing to meet her father's. She crossed over to her mother and put her forehead down on Scully's shoulder. "Please, just make him leave me alone." Scully wrapped her arms around her daughter, hating herself for the wedge that had been driven between father and daughter, even though it wasn't her fault. She watched Mulder's eyes fill with tears from across the room, and even now, her heart ached for him. It always would. He picked up his keys and walked out the front door. Sam stood awkwardly in the doorway, not knowing what to do. She thought maybe she should go after her brother. "Dana, should I..." Scully shook her head. "Let him go, Sam." Sam nodded and went up the stairs to her room. Sharon stood up and looked at Chris and Skinner. Cade had walked across to their house earlier to make a few phone calls. "We're going to go, Dana. You know where we are if you need anything." Scully nodded, not letting go of Brett until the door closed behind them. Taking Brett's tear-streaked face in her hands, she stepped back. "You okay?" Brett sniffled. "I feel terrible. Dad's hurting, too." Scully blinked back tears of her own. She understood the conflicting emotions she saw in her daughter's eyes. She rested her forehead against Brett's. "We *will* get through this, Brett." Brett pressed her lips together. "All of us?" Her mother nodded. "I'll see to it personally." Scully wasn't about to give up on Mulder that easily. She loved him. But she was hurt, and she was angry. And sometimes, love wasn't enough. It had to be more. *************************** Mulder found Scully going through her closet, putting clothes into a suitcase. "Scully...what....?" Scully finally turned to face him. "Brett and I are going a way for a while." Mulder's heart stopped. Oh, God. This couldn't be happening. "What about work?" "I already asked Skinner for a leave of absence." She put a sweater into the case, despite the fact that it was summer. She felt anything but warm at the moment. "How long?" Mulder managed to ask. "Indefinitely." She zipped the suitcase. Mulder reached out to touch her, to be her not to go, to forgive him. Scully flinched involuntarily. Mulder's world came tumbling apart. "You can't take Brett away from me," he said coldly. She turned her icy blue stare on him. "I'm not trying to. Any damage that's been done, you can hold yourself personally responsible for." When Mulder awoke early the next morning--not that he'd really slept, without Scully in the room--the Jeep was gone. And so were his heart and soul. All that was left was an aching emptiness. Finding Samantha meant nothing to him if he couldn't share it with Scully. But he was too late in realizing it. **************** end part 1 of 2. sorry, i had to split this up. and i'm too tired to type up the rest tonight. let me know what you think so far, and i can incorporate suggestions when i type up the finale. khughes@msms.doe.k12.ms.us or hughekd@okra.millsaps.edu From math.ohio- state.edu!howland.erols.net!vixen.cso.uiuc.edu!cdc2.cdc.net!imci4!newsfeed.internetmci.com!ne ws.ycc.ya le.edu!yale!news-mail-gateway!daemon Wed Aug 14 11:41:46 1996 Article: 22822 of alt.tv.x-files.creative Path: math.ohio- state.edu!howland.erols.net!vixen.cso.uiuc.edu!cdc2.cdc.net!imci4!newsfeed.internetmci.com!ne ws.ycc.ya le.edu!yale!news-mail-gateway!daemon From: Gil Trevizo Newsgroups: alt.tv.x-files.creative Subject: New: The Persistence of Memory--Epilogue (2a/2) Home (fwd) by Kristie Hughes Date: 13 Aug 1996 19:40:03 -0400 Organization: Yale CS Mail/News Gateway Lines: 289 Sender: daemon@cs.yale.edu Message-ID: <19960813194000.aaaa004P_@babyblue.cs.yale.edu> NNTP-Posting-Host: babyblue.cs.yale.edu Status: RO I DID NOT WRITE THIS - I am the administrator for the x-files-fanfic mailing list and am posting this story for a subscriber. For information on the mailing list, go to http://mail.utep.edu/~trevizo/x-files. Please do not send comments for the author to me -- send them to (hughekd@okra.millsaps.edu). You may direct requests for missing parts to me though. __________ / __ __ \ ( (__) (__) ) --------[[[---------]]]------------------------------------------------- this one has been a real pain--it bounced because it was too big...sorry gil... :( usually i can't make them long enough...so here it is, in two parts. DISCLAIMER: i said, officer, what have i done? he smiled and said boy, you're having too much fun. well, that song was stuck in my head. i don't own the characters that you recognize from the television series. i don't mean them any harm. and i don't make money off of them. CATEGORY: MSR, i suppose you could say. AUTHOR'S NOTES: oh, what to do? happy ending or no? ********************************** The Persistence of Memory--Epilogue (2/2) by kris Brett looked up from her blanket on the beach. She could see her mother moving restlessly about inside the small summer house, dusting things that didn't need dusting, straightening things that didn't need straightening. They had driven to the house where they had often spent long summer weekends with the Skinners when Brett was younger. Scully hadn't spoken at all during the entire drive, and Brett had followed her mother's lead, training her eyes out the passenger window. That had been six days ago. Neither Scully or Brett had spoken to anyone back in D.C. since then. Surprisingly, Brett was almost enjoying this time with her mother. They had taken time to get to know each other, in ways they'd never done before. Scully had taken Brett sailing, delighted to find that her daughter had the same appreciation for the ocean that Ahab had instilled in her. She was, however, dismayed to learn that Brett did not truly appreciate Moby Dick. Brett, in return, had been shocked that her mother had lost her virginity at seventeen. Somehow, that fell under the category of being more than she needed to know. But the laughter and fun had been overshadowed by Mulder's absence. Brett could hear her mother crying at night, but she could never work up the nerve to confront Scully about it. She wondered how many nights her mother had spent alone and crying before marrying her father. And while Brett was still hurt by her father's behavior, she missed him. It was just that simple. Whenever she got hurt as a child, he'd been there to dust her off and kiss away the pain. Having only her mother to turn to was such a foreign idea, that Brett felt incredibly lost. Just thinking about Mulder rattling around their house without Scully made her chest feel tight. For the thousandth time, both Scully and Brett found themselves wondering what he was doing at that moment. ******************************** Sam looked at Mulder, who was sitting hunched over the desk in his study. "Hey," she said from the doorway. "You've been at that since this morning. Want to give it a rest and go out for a late lunch?" Mulder didn't look up. "No. I'm not hungry. You go ahead without me." Samantha sighed loudly. The man was miserable, trying to drown himself in work that she knew could be handled by one of the agents underneath him. The dark circles under his eyes were telling, and he certainly hadn't eaten since Brett and Dana had left. She walked in and perched on the edge of his desk. "Fox, why don't you just go to them? This isn't going to resolve itself. You look like crap." Mulder glared at his sister. She really had no tact, nor did she possess an ounce of subtlety. "This case has been rough," he countered. Sam refused to back down. "This case has been standard. Even Skinner has said so." Removing his glasses, Mulder rubbed the bridge of his nose. "I don't even know where they are." "You're the FBI for Christ's sake. If you wanted to, you could find your wife and daughter." Sam was more than a little sick of this behavior. He was being an ass, hiding his hurt behind work and not letting her get close enough to help him. She didn't know how Dana and Brett had put up with him all these years. She stood up and stalked out of the room. Feeling sorry for himself, feeling guilty without trying to make things right, was not going to get him anywhere. Mulder flung the field report off of his desk, sending papers flying in all directions. Sam was right. But he couldn't just track Scully down and make her come back home. He didn't even know if she *wanted* to come back. *************************** Scully looked out at the ocean; it was beautiful, but she'd give anything to be at home, snuggled with Mulder on the couch, arguing about the latest field report from their agents. But she couldn't be. Not until he could face the problems that stood in their way. Not until he was willing to continue searching for answers. She'd spent many years trying to avoid what had happened to her all those years ago. But now that Brett was involved, that was no longer an option as far as she was concerned. She could see Brett lying on the beach and walked out to her. "Hi. What are you reading?" Brett squinted up at Scully and smiled sheepishly. "Harlequin Romance." Scully rolled her eyes. "Science fiction and romance. Now there's a combination. Where did you get your taste in literature?" Brett usually went back and forth between science fiction and mind candy that specialized in gratuitous sex scenes. "I'd say I get it honestly. I know all about your stash of books." Scully refused to feel guilty. "It's an escape. Everybody needs one." Brett arched an eyebrow. "What? You need an escape from having sex with Dad?" Scully smiled. "Well, sometimes he's away overnight." "Speaking of Dad..." Brett hesitated. "How much longer are we going to be here? It's not the same without Cade and Chris here to torture me." And speaking of *Chris*, she felt horrible for the way she had left things. Scully got a faraway look in her eyes. "I can't be the one to give on this, Brett. Surely you realize that." "I'm not saying you have to give in. But he deserves the chance to rethink his position. And the two of you will never make it apart." Brett knew her mother hated to feel dependent. But in this case, it was a mutual dependency, and denying it would only lead both of her parents to more hurt. They were both just too stubborn to make the first move. Scully nodded, suddenly feeling claustrophobic, despite the wide open ocean scene. Brett was going to hate her for what she was about to say. "You may think that's true, Brett. But I made it just fine before your father came along, and I could do it again if necessary." Scully knew the words weren't true, but she thought if she said them, perhaps they could be. "I contacted a lawyer on Monday." Brett wrinkled her brow. "Why do you need a lawyer?" "I'm filing for divorce." Scully waited for Brett to clam up, to yell, anything but what she did. "If that's what you want," Brett said simply. She knew her mother had acted impulsively in contacting a lawyer. Scully would realize it herself as soon as the shock--and the hurt--wore off. "So, where would you live? What would you do about work? Would you stay in D.C.? Relocate to another city?" Brett knew it was cruel. She was pushing her mother's buttons, throwing the fact that her life was so intertwined with Mulder's that she'd never be able to divorce him without leaving the rest of her life behind in her face. Scully took a long, shuddery breath. "Where would you live?" she countered. Brett sighed. She was going to make this difficult. "I'd go to boarding school. I won't live with just one of you. Besides, another couple of years and I'll be in college. I won't even be around that much longer." She could see the tears well up in Scully's eyes. Good, her mother needed a bucket of reality thrown on her. If she felt alone now, let her imagine how she'd feel if she really had to be alone. Scully bit her lip. "If that's what you want." Then she smiled. "You really are a brat." She ruffled Brett's hair fondly, then stood up to head back into the house. "Where are you going?" Brett asked her mother's retreating form. "To call the lawyer." Scully stopped and looked back at her daughter. "What for?" Brett asked innocently. "To ask him if he knows of any good boarding schools." Brett threw the romance novel at Scully. "I don't like your attitude, young lady. This sort of behavior will not be tolerated." Scully grimaced at the familiar words--she'd said them enough to Brett this past year that they could very well have been her motto. "I don't know why you're just lying there, Brett Scully-Mulder. You have a lot of packing to do if we're leaving tonight." Brett smiled triumphantly. She was getting pretty good at dealing with her mother. This wasn't so hard after all. "Where are we going?" Scully raised her hands in the air. "Crazy, I would presume. Are you coming along for the ride?" Brett scooped up her blanket and trailed after her mother, trying to adjust her black bikini. If they were going crazy, it wouldn't be a long ride. Her entire family was already halfway there. ******************************* Brett had the urge to be really difficult. Her mother had been a pain in the ass all afternoon. Scully had insisted they clean the entire beach house, as well as do some shopping before they packed to go home. In truth, she thought her mother was still trying to work up the courage to actually go home. It was easy to say, but Brett knew actually doing it would be difficult. She was still uneasy about facing her father. And then there was the possibility that it would all blow up in their faces. What if he was still angry with her and Scully for leaving him? Before she let her mother build her confidence back up, Brett knew she had to check things out, test the waters, so to speak. "Hey, Mom?" she asked, looking up from her packing. "What?" Scully tried in vain to cram all of her clothes back into the suitcase. "Want to see something really neat?" "What?" Scully asked again. Brett closed her eyes and pictured her room at home. Then, she imagined herself being there.... Scully's mouth dropped in disbelief as she watched her daughter disintegrate before her very eyes. ***************************** Brett winced as she opened her eyes to see the world righting itself once again. She had never intended anyone to find out that she could still teleport herself, but she liked the idea of having a secret with Scully. Especially one she could have so much fun with. She had been practicing and was actually getting quite good at it. Listening for sounds in the house, Brett peaked cautiously out her bedroom door. Good, Sam didn't seem to be around. She tiptoed down the stairs and found her father in his study, staring at a picture of her mother. He looked so tired, that she had to fight down the urge to go to him. Papers were scattered all over the floor and desk. She tiptoed back out and into the kitchen. Quietly, she rummaged through the fridge until she found the bottles of iced tea she knew would be there. She took out a champagne bucket filled with ice that they kept in the freezer, placing a bottle of iced tea into it. Slipping through to her parents' bedroom, she placed the bucket on the dresser. Whimsical? Maybe...she had her Aunt Melissa to thank for that part of her. Hopefully, her father would get the hint. Satisfied that her mission was accomplished, Brett closed her eyes in an effort to zap herself back to the summer house... *************************** Scully was still rooted to her spot when Brett rematerialized. She noticed the look of pain that crossed the girl's features just before she opened her eyes. "What the hell was that?" Brett smiled. "That was fun. Pretty cool, huh?" Scully widened her eyes even more. "Cool? Fun? You nearly gave me a heart attack, Brett. Where did you go?" Brett shrugged. "Home." "What for?" Scully felt panicky. Knowing how different her daughter was scared her. "Just to check things out." She sighed. Teleporting was hard work. Scully wrinkled her nose. "This is too weird. You are definitely your father's daughter." "I should hope so. Imagine his surprise at finding out I was Frohicke's daughter or something." She saw Scully cringe. "But then again, maybe that's why I'm so short." "Don't even joke about it, Brat." Scully picked up her suitcase. "Let's go. I want to get this over with." Brett picked up her own and smirked. "Race you home." ************************************* end 2a/2b. hughekd@okra.millsaps.edu or khughes@msms.doe.k12.ms.us From math.ohio- state.edu!howland.erols.net!vixen.cso.uiuc.edu!cdc2.cdc.net!imci4!newsfeed.internetmci.com!ne ws.ycc.ya le.edu!yale!news-mail-gateway!daemon Wed Aug 14 11:41:47 1996 Article: 22823 of alt.tv.x-files.creative Path: math.ohio- state.edu!howland.erols.net!vixen.cso.uiuc.edu!cdc2.cdc.net!imci4!newsfeed.internetmci.com!ne ws.ycc.ya le.edu!yale!news-mail-gateway!daemon From: Gil Trevizo Newsgroups: alt.tv.x-files.creative Subject: NEW: The Persistence of Memory--Epilogue (2b/2b) Home (fwd) by Kristie Hughes Date: 13 Aug 1996 19:41:05 -0400 Organization: Yale CS Mail/News Gateway Lines: 487 Sender: daemon@cs.yale.edu Message-ID: <19960813194057.aaaa004Pk@babyblue.cs.yale.edu> NNTP-Posting-Host: babyblue.cs.yale.edu Status: RO I DID NOT WRITE THIS - I am the administrator for the x-files-fanfic mailing list and am posting this story for a subscriber. For information on the mailing list, go to http://mail.utep.edu/~trevizo/x-files. Please do not send comments for the author to me -- send them to (hughekd@okra.millsaps.edu). You may direct requests for missing parts to me though. __________ / __ __ \ ( (__) (__) ) --------[[[---------]]]------------------------------------------------- DISCLAIMER: i said, officer, what have i done? he smiled and said boy, you're having too much fun. well, that song was stuck in my head. i don't own the characters that you recognize from the television series. i don't mean them any harm. and i don't make money off of them. CATEGORY: MSR, i suppose you could say. AUTHOR'S NOTES: oh, what to do? happy ending or no? ********************************** The Persistence of Memory--Epilogue (2/2) by kris Sam paced the den, bored to death. She didn't like not having Brett around to annoy. The house seemed lifeless. She debated waking Fox up to get permission to go out, but he was finally sleeping. Surely he wouldn't be upset if she just left a note. She didn't exactly know the rules about going out or curfews....this house seemed to have unspoken rules and she had yet to be informed of them. Slipping out the front door, Sam saw Megan driving up. As she hopped in the car, she never noticed that the Jeep was turning into the driveway. Scully shifted anxiously as she put the Jeep into the garage. The car was there, so Mulder was probably home. Brett gave her a sheepish look. "I saw the lights on at the Skinners'. I guess I'll go make amends with Chris. Remember," she tossed over her shoulder. "You don't have to give in. Just don't give up." Sure, that was easy for her to say. Brett had Chris right where she wanted him. He would take one look at her and all would be forgotten. She knew she wouldn't be so lucky with Mulder. He may have hurt her, but he had acted on instinct, out of fear. Scully knew that; she just couldn't forget the look on his face when he'd shoved her away. She still had the bruises to show for it. Internal bruises would take even longer to heal. Trying to figure out what she was going to say, she stepped into the house. Immediately she felt better. This was home. They could work this out...she hoped. ************************** Walter Skinner opened the door, surprised to see Brett standing there. "You're back," he said. "Hopefully," was the only comment Brett was willing to give. "Is Chris home?" Skinner shook his head. "No, he left here with...what's her name?" Sharon stepped up behind him. "Megan." She smiled at Brett. "Right. He left with Megan and Samantha, I believe." Skinner motioned for her to come in. Brett furrowed her brow. She and Chris had entirely different sets of friends, beyond each other. Now that she thought about it, Sam was more his style than she was. "Oh. Well, I just came to talk to him. You can tell him I was here." Sharon noticed the look that crossed Brett's face. It wasn't jealousy, exactly, but she had a feeling there was going to be some difficulties involving Samantha, Chris, and Brett. This should be interesting to watch. "Want to come in? I was trying to bake some cookies." Brett noticed the apron Skinner was wearing and supressed a smile. "I see she has you doing the dirty work, Uncle Walter." Skinner looked very unamused, as he slipped the apron over his head. "Now that you're here, she doesn't. I'm going to go check my e-mail." He handed the apron to Brett and kissed his wife quickly before beating a hasty path out of the room. Sharon led Brett into the kitchen. "Is everything okay?" Brett shrugged. "We just drove up, actually." The brunette nodded. It looked like the jury was still out. "Where did you guys go, if you don't mind my asking." Brett licked a spoon of cookie dough. "To the beach house. It wasn't the same with just us, but I think we both feel better now." "I'm glad. Your father hasn't been himself this week, from what I hear. I believe half of the department is ready to quit." Sharon gave a rueful smile. "Maybe things will calm down once Mom gets back in there. She seems to have a calming effect on everyone...except me." Brett hopped up onto the counter. This was like a second home to her. "You're so much alike. You would both argue with a brick wall before admitting to being wrong, Brett. It's no wonder you butt heads so often." Sharon smiled at Brett's innocent look. "So, is Cade still here?" "Yes, he is, actually. He's shooting hoops out back, I believe." Brett nodded. "How's that going?" Sharon shrugged. "It's so good to have him home, but things are still a little tense. It's all water under the bridge, but I guess it takes a long time to heal." "Well, he certainly looks good." Brett couldn't help herself. "I mean, it's obvious he's been working out." If possible, Cade was even better looking than Chris. But he was quieter, less outspoken. Not as easygoing, and less likely to be the life of the party. Sharon lifted her eyebrows. Brett rarely commented on guys. This was a first. "Watch it, kid. That's my little boy you're talking about." She knew Brett was a good six and a half years younger than Cade, but Brett had an air about her that made her seem older to most people. What was the old saying? Some people were born with old souls? Brett quirked her lips. "Well, your little boy has nice buns." The idea was sort of strange, since Cade had seen her run around without her shirt until she was seven. She'd had this thing about shirts--if boys could run around topless, so could she. It had given her father fits, but her mother had assured him this wasn't an indication of a tendency towards promiscuity. "Speak of the devil." Sharon gestured toward the back door. Cade came in shirtless and slick with sweat. "Hey, Brett." He took a swig of Gatorade. "Mmmm, cookies." He swiped two from a plate then tossed the basketball at Brett. "Want to play some one on one for old time's sake?" Never one to back down from a challenge, Brett flashed him a competitive look. "You're on." She looked down at her exercise shorts. It was the most comfortable thing she'd had with her....well, at least she was dressed for the occasion. "Prepare to be slaughtered." ************************** Scully noticed how quiet the house seemed. No sign of anyone. It was early...only nine-thirty, so maybe Mulder and Sam were out. She trudged through to their bedroom, suddenly nervous. Her breath caught in her throat. Mulder was stretched out on his back on their bed, still keeping to his side. His face was drawn into a frown. She saw him jerk, then mutter her name. He was having a nightmare. And it obviously involved her. She felt a surge of guilt for leaving him the way she had. Walking over to the bed, she sat down next to him. Not touching him, she whispered, "Shhhh...it's all right. I'm here." A look of confusion crossed Mulder's face, but he didn't wake up entirely. Without warning, he grabbed Scully around the waist and pulled her down on him. His grip was so tight, she could hardly breathe. "Noooo! Scully!!" Startled, she fought out of his grasp. Mulder's eyes popped open, one tear working its way down his face. His eyes registered Scully as he sat up, breathing hard. They lit up involuntarily, then darkened. "Hi," she said, still sitting on the edge of the bed. Mulder edged off the bed and prowled the room restlessly. "Do you know what I've been going through? I've been worried to death about the two of you. What if you were in trouble? You didn't even call me!" His voice was harsh and tinged with anger. He forced himself to take a deep breath as he noticed the hurt return to Scully's eyes. Damning himself for putting them back to square one, he combed a finger through his hair. "Scully, I'm sorry." He knelt in front of her and worked his hands soothingly over her thighs. "I'm just so scared of losing you. Either of you. That's why I was so upset before. I was angry that you would ask me to go back to that. I don't know if I can, Scully." She fixed her blue eyes on his hazel ones. "You came pretty close to losing me all on your own, Mulder." She still made no effort to touch him. That night out by the grill had left its mark; she'd never been afraid of him, or his anger, before. This was new and painful territory. The force of her words hit him in the gut. "I know. God, I know. Please, don't hate me, Scully. You have to forgive me. I'll never lay a hand on you without asking again, and certainly not in anger." He removed his hands from her thighs but stayed crouched in front of her. Seventeen years of tearing down barriers and he'd been the one to reconstruct them. Scully saw that tears were falling silently from his eyes still, only much faster now. Her Mulder never cried. "Oh, Mulder. It's not about touching me. It's about shutting yourself off. You can't run away from this. I won't let you. I've shoved you away in anger before myself." "But I'm so much bigger than you, Scully. I could have really hurt you. I should have known better." He looked up at her pleadingly. "It's forgiven, Mulder. Now, let's talk about the real issue here. Do you remember your words to me all those years ago? You said that it wasn't about justice, it was about fate. And you swore to me that the answers were in the x-files. I believed you then and look where it got us." She smiled at him. "Because of the x-files, we met....and had Brett. Because of her, somehow, we have Sam now. The answer was in there, just not in the way we were expecting. And now, I know that the answers are still in there. But I have to know that you're still going to be as relentless as ever. It's important to me, and it's important for Brett. And for Samantha." Mulder took in a sharp breath. "You're too reasonable for your own damn good, Scully. You took seventeen years of pain and found the best things about them. I've told you before that all you had to do was tell me what you needed, and I'd get it for you. I'm sorry it took all of this to make me really see that this is what you needed. You want answers? We'll get them. I promise. But you promise me that you'll never leave me like that again." Scully could see sincerity in his eyes--as well as that relentless look that made him Mulder. He wouldn't give up until they found what they were looking for. *This* was her Mulder. "Never," she whispered, still not touching him. He needed to be the first one to do that, so he could see that they really were past this. "I love you, Doc." He put his head into her stomach, and she put her hands on either side of it. "Same here." She finally dragged his face up to hers, pulling him down on top of her. God, it was good to be home. "We have the house to ourselves," she informed him. "Brett's across at the Skinner's, and I think Sam is out." Mulder kissed her neck, inhaling the smell of her. He'd missed her so much. He hadn't spent that much time away from her in sixteen years. The thought of Brett sobered him a bit. "Is she very upset with me?" Scully ran her hands along his back. "With Brett, it's hard to tell. She misses you, and she's the one who made me see that we needed to come back home, but she still needs to adjust to Sam's being here. Brett knows that you need time to get to know Samantha again, and the only way she knew to do that, I think, was to just back away from you completely. You have to remember, she's always had you to herself. This is strange for her." Then she kissed him on the lips. "Let's not talk kids right now, Mulder. I need to feel you inside me, your body hard against mine." Well, Scully certainly didn't mince words. And at least they were in sync again--because inside her was right where he wanted to be. Scully could still turn him on with just one look. "I'd be happy to oblige. By the way, who left that iced tea in the champagne bucket?" He was just noticing it for the first time. Scully shrugged, trying to get him out of his clothes. "I don't know, but it certainly seems fitting." ***************************** Brett was hot and sweaty...but she'd given Cade a fairly good fight. She looked down at her exercise suit, this time drenched with sweat. She'd taken off the t-shirt earlier and was just wearing the top and shorts...both of which fit a like a second skin. She didn't even notice Cade staring at her. "Let's get out of here," he said, taking her hand. They seemed to have redeveloped their rapport. "Where?" Brett had a fleeting thought of her parents but abandoned it in favor of being with Cade. He was delightfully funny, in a somber kind of way. "You'll see!" He dragged her to his Jeep--a real Jeep--where the wind could blow through your hair. "Can you drive a stick?" She looked surprised. "Dad taught me--but they never let me practice." "Well, practice now. We're taking back roads anyway." She was surprised when he moved the driver's seat way back and slid into the seat behind her. "This one's old and can be really cranky. It's safer like this," he said by way of explanation. Brett just shrugged. He was a little too close for comfort, but she knew that he wouldn't even let Chris drive the Jeep. It was his baby. Cade led Brett through a maze of dirt roads, arriving at the river eventually. It was gorgeous--the stars were bright and the night was really warm. "Want to swim?" Cade made for the water and slipped off his shoes. Brett raised her eyebrows. "Our clothes will never dry." "So, take them off." Now, she didn't want to seem immature, but.... Cade laughed at the look on her face. "I won't look, I promise. I'll go first." What was she so afraid of? She'd been skinny dipping with Chris and Cade plenty of times before. And Sharon and her mom had hosed them down outside when they were younger and came back caked with mud. She looked doubtfully at the boxers flung over a tree limb and then to Cade who was waist deep in the water. "Okay." Cade swam towards the other bank while Brett got into the water. She flinched at how cold it was, despite the hot summer air. Eventually, Brett loosened up and found herself having a lot of fun. She and Cade talked about everything...from his parents to hers...his parents separation when he was just a little boy, right before Brett was born...his flying, her school. Brett snapped her head up towards the shore when she heard playful barking. Two golden retriever puppies were pouncing around on the shore. "Oh, how cute," she said. "No, not cute," Cade muttered. "They've got our clothes." They hadn't thought to put the clothes up high, just slung them over low branches. He swam quickly to the shore, but the dogs took off through the woods--clothes and all. Brett turned around, laughing hard, while Cade chased the dogs. No luck--they weren't letting go of their newfound prizes. Standing behind the Jeep, he yelled at Brett. "Well, we still have shoes." Brett stopped laughing. Coming home naked and wet would certainly fuel her parents' tempers. "What now?" Cade rummaged through the Jeep. He could only find a small blanket, a towel, and a granola bar--all of which were probably four years old. Wrapping the towel around his waist he started back. He saw Brett's expression as he held up the other blanket. "This is it." Oh, this was not at all amusing. "Okay, close your eyes then." Cade did as he was told, and seconds later felt Brett stepping into the blanket. "Thanks," she said. Then she looked at him and started laughing again. Cade's breath caught. She looked gorgeous standing there. He tried to conjure up an image of Brett at seven, covered in poison ivy, but all he could think of was this Brett, rolling around on the ground...with him...poison ivy or not. She struggled to hold the blanket around her, taking in Cade's wet body. This definitely was not how she thought of Chris Skinner. "Uh, so...what now." "Home?" he asked helplessly. "Home." She echoed, trying to pick up their shoes. **************************** Brett stepped through the front door, praying her parents were asleep. It was after midnight, she was still a little wet...and a lot naked...under that blanket. No such luck. Mulder and Scully were wrapped up together on the couch. Scully gave Brett a startled look. "What happened to you?" Brett bit her lip. "Uh, it's kind of a funny story, actually." Mulder shot up to a sitting position. "How funny?" They'd called the Skinners', and Sharon had said that Brett and Cade had gone off in his Jeep around nine-thirty. Well, thought Brett, at least they're a team again. She saw Sam sitting in *her* favorite armchair, looking incredibly curious. And then there was Chris...sitting on the floor. Shit. "Uh, do you mind if I put some clothes on?" She hurried up the stairs, not waiting for a reply. There was *no way* she was going back down there. She shouldn't feel bad, right? It had all been completely innocent. But it didn't feel so innocent. And her father wasn't likely to see it that way. She put on shorts and a cropped shirt and debated. Then she heard someone else downstairs. Cade. Shit shit shit. "Hi," she said, coming back down the stairs. "Hey," he grinned at her. "You lost your shoes." Sam perked up. "I'd say she lost more than her shoes." She looked challengingly at Brett. "Thanks." Brett took the shoes and shifted her feet anxiously. Cade decided to make it easier on her. "Brett fell into the river. It's a long story." Chris didn't look convinced. "So Brett tells us." Sam wasn't letting up. "Chris and I were debating a midnight swim. Up for it?" Brett gave her a lethal look. Cade intervened again. "I think Brett's had enough of a swim, wouldn't you say, Brett?" Sam shrugged and pulled Chris up. "Suit yourself. Let's go, Chris." Uh-oh, thought Scully. The battle lines are clearly drawn. She watched Sam and Chris disappear outside. Cade gave Brett a look, then she followed him out the front door. "Thanks," she said, letting out a relieved breath. "Mulder, get away from the window," Scully admonished her beloved husband. Cade pushed a lock of hair out of Brett's face. "You're very welcome. Your family's inquisitions are tough." Without thinking, he bent down and kissed her lightly. Involuntarily, Brett returned the kiss. Her head was swimming. It had been a long, long week. And Cade's strength was welcomed. She didn't even have the presence of mind to break away when he deepened the kiss. Sure, she'd been kissed before. But not like that. She was playing with fire here. She could feel Cade's hands around her waist. Breaking away, she looked up. Cade was tall. Very tall. "I'd better go--before the inquisition turns into an all-out trial." "I'll see you tomorrow. Maybe we could take another swim..." Brett quirked her lips, trying not to smile...trying to be cool. "Sounds good," she managed. She watched him go, then let herself back inside. "He kissed her, Scully. His hands were all over her. I'm going to wring his neck. He's too old for her." Mulder paced the den. Scully hid a smile. "I dated a guy five years older than me in high school, Mulder." "Now is not the time to encourage her to be like you, *dear*." Mulder returned restlessly to his seat, only to see his daughter come back inside. Brett gave herself a mental shake. "Hi, Dad." She shifted her feet again--she seemed to be doing a lot of that. Mulder stood up. "Hey." That was all he could manage. He looked to Scully for support. Opening his arms, Brett walked into them. "I missed you," she said. It felt good to have her father back. Mulder kissed the top of her head. "I've missed you more." Okay, so eventually they'd get things straightened out completely. Right now, he needed a reminder that she was still his little girl. "Want some graham crackers?" Brett grinned. "I don't know. I haven't been eating my vegetables. Think Mommy'll let me?" "Mommy's outnumbered." They headed for the kitchen. "Mommy's always outnumbered," Scully said with mock gravity. "Awww...you poor thing," Brett cooed. "Here, have a graham cracker." She shoved one into Scully's open mouth, then headed out the back door. She still needed to set things straight with Chris. "She grew up too fast," Mulder grumbled. "Want to try for another one?" Scully asked through a mouth full of grahams. "At our ages? Please, I'm too old for even this much." Mulder licked some crumbs from her lips. "There were some UFO sightings while you were gone..." Oh, things were definitely back to normal. She heard Brett shriek as Chris pulled her into the pool. Too normal. Sam came trudging back in, wrapped in a towel. "How does she do it? She has those boys wrapped around her little finger," she grumbled. This was war. Sure, two really cute guys had already asked her out, but she'd been trying to catch Chris Skinner's attention all week. Mulder put his head in his hands. "Wake me up when they go away to college." Scully kissed his milk mustache. "Then they'll just bring their boyfriends home with them...to stay for long weekends...under this very roof." "I feel weak," Mulder replied, holding his heart. "Let's see what I can do about that...." Scully wrapped her arms around his neck and urged him to pick her up, which he did. She wrapped her legs around his waist. As he carried her through to the bedroom, the phone rang, and they knew Sam had picked up. Yes, things were going to be just fine...compared to parenthood, the Consortium was minor league... ********************* end!!!!!!! finally! hughekd@okra.millsaps.edu or khughes@msms.doe.k12.ms.us