An Unchanged Soul
Chapter Fourteen


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Emma tried to tell herself she wasn't a fool.  Over
and over, from the time she'd left Sam standing in
front of the pub until now, when she stood like a
statue on exactly the same spot, she denied the
little voice in the back of her mind.  The one that
whispered he was just being nice, the one that
murmured he couldn't possibly be as sincere as
she'd thought last night, the one that clamored for
priority over the other, more singsong voice that
said not to bother with pinching herself, it was
all true.  She liked listening to *that* reasoning,
against the lingering doubt that kept residence
with the snide little voice of sanity.

It didn't help that she'd agonized for an hour or
more over what to wear, a decision she'd never had
a problem with before.  Maybe if she hadn't come
out and called it a 'date', she wouldn't be so
nervous.  In the end, she scooted that little
thought away as well, donning one of her most
somber 'Sunday go to mass' dresses, a simple brown
cashmere with a starched lace collar and gold
buttons.  Its high neck and long sleeves bolstered
her vow to resist Sam's certain advance.  Now that
she'd softened toward him, he wouldn't hesitate to
press her for more, and she had to keep a cool
head.

The problem was, she wanted him.  What she wanted
*from* him, she didn't know.  Somehow, she didn't
see this relationship ending in marriage.  She
hardly knew the man, and it was way too soon for
those kind of ideas.  But neither was she going to
give him leeway to pursue more a amorous path.  At
the very least she would try to stop him, with
every weapon at her disposal, starting with the
brown dress.  She would have worn black, but
dressing like a nun was sure to bring forth the
opposite from the rascal, complete with lewd
comments and even more dares.

What the heck was she doing, anyway?  Who was she
kidding?  She was so close to being a nun, the only
thing missing was going through the final vows! 
She couldn't handle a man like Sam; he was used to
women who could flirt and dance and not cringe with
horror at the prospect of being intimate -

"Emma?"

Her head snapped up, and she focused on Sam with a
gulp.  "Yes?"

Goodness, he'd worn his suit!  He stood in the
doorway to the pub with a confused smile, so
handsome she forgot to breathe for a moment.

"Are you ready to go?"  His smile cracked a bit, as
if he expected her to turn tail and run.

Actually, that was an excellent idea, that snide
little voice of sanity shouted, as it finally made
it to the top of the chorus.

No!  She couldn't do that to Sam.  She'd just have
to be brave and muddle through somehow.  After all,
no one said she had to see him again after this
date.  He probably thought she'd fall all over him
in his expensive suit, as if blinded by the sight
of a handsome man.  Dinner - well, all the violins
and champagne in the world had no power to sway
her.  And he'd soon find out if he laid one finger
on her in a darkened theater, he'd find it chopped
off at the knuckle.

She was prepared.  Sam Mulder could wine and dine
her until doomsday, but she was immune.

"Yes, I am," she said, giving him a haughty look. 
Confident and cool, that was the way to go.  She
waved a hand at her car.  "Just hop in and point me
in the right direction."

Sam closed the door behind him, locking it before
pocketing the keys.  His overcoat billowed behind
him as he practically bounded her way.  "You look
great."

Before she could stop it, one hand went to her
loose hair.  Instead of pulling it back into a
braid or hiding it under a hat, she'd simply
fashioned a worn white ribbon into a headband. 
Why, she didn't know.  But suddenly, she felt very
uncomfortable with Sam's scrutiny.  "I didn't have
time to braid it," she lied, saying a silent
apology to the saints above for her deception.  "Da
was late for Sunday dinner, and I waited on him to
come home before I..." She trailed off with a
blush, knowing her motormouth was foolish.

"I like it."  Happy eyes swept her form from head
to toe, taking in the brown dress that peeked from
the opening in her coat.  "The dress suits you."

"It does?"  She waited for the inevitable
comparison to a Hershey bar.  Sweet, like
chocolate.  He was so predictable.

"It looks warm and soft, just like you."

Okay, so he'd abandoned the overly sweet talk for
something much simpler.  Just because the way he
said it sent a thrill up her spine didn't mean a
thing.  She was made of sterner stuff, and a little
comment like that had no power to buckle her knees.

"Well, then."  She avoided his gaze, turning to
walk to her car.  "Where to?"

"I thought maybe we'd walk."

"Walk?"

"Yeah.  The rain's gone and it's a nice night."

It was a pleasant night, not all that cold for the
middle of December.  The weather wouldn't be this
nice for long, she knew, but she was enjoying it
while she could.  And she did so love to walk
outdoors.  Besides, the little Italian place was
around the next corner - if Sam wanted to impress
her, that was his most likely choice for dinner. 
Good wine, good food, and the most lovely violin
player... she sighed, wondering how she'd ever
resist.  Then again, the Antoninis were friends of
her father's, and she could probably waste quite a
bit of time in friendly conversation, thereby
lessening the lyrical pull of the atmosphere - and
Sam's charm.

"Okay."  Pulling her coat closer, she started in
the direction of Antonini's, only to be brought
short as his hand took hers.

"This way."

His warm hand held hers in a tight clasp, and she
amended her earlier happiness at the warmer
weather, wishing for her gloves.  It would be rude
to pull away, not to mention embarrassing.  But she
dug in for a moment, asking, "Where are we going?"

"I figure we'd take in the movie first."  He
smiled, a boyish, excited thing.  "Unless you're
too hungry to wait?"

Actually, she was hungry - just not for food.  Stop
that, she admonished the other little voice that
craved Sam's touch.  "No, I'm not that hungry at
all," she said, tacking on a silent plea for
absolution to whatever saint was still listening
from above.  She hoped that she wouldn't have to
pray to the Blessed Virgin before the night was
through, as she didn't expect the higher deity to
cut her any slack.

"Good.  There's a theater a couple of blocks down." 
He'd already turned, dragging her behind him with a
little tug.  "Showing something called 'Singles' -
looks pretty good from the poster outside."

Goodness, he even looked good from the backside. 
"Singles?  What kind of name is that?"  Jump him,
Emma, jump him.  Shut up, little voice!

"'Singapore'."  As if he realized his words weren't
exactly clear, he turned, allowing her to catch up. 
"Sorry.  I seem to be going a bit too fast for
you."

Mischief laced his gaze, and she tamped down the
urge to blush.  If nothing else, he'd taught her to
rein in her propensity for blushing.  She stepped
to his side, looking up at him with cool eyes. 
"Remember Sam... we're just at an idle right now."

"Well, we need to kick it into first, or we'll
never make the movie.  We'll save second gear for
dinner, I promise."

Chuckling, she fell into step beside him.  He
matched his steps to hers; even though she walked
at a brisk pace, he had to shorten his long
strides.

"Singapore, huh?  Fred MacMurray and Ava Gardner." 
She had to fill the silence with something.

"You like movies?"

"I love movies," she admitted, as they turned the
corner.  She could see the marquee of the Paramount
Theater from where they were, the bright lights
glowing in the night like a row of icicles.  "I
never had money of my own as a child, so sometimes
I'd sneak in that very theater right there on
Saturday afternoons."

"Emma!"  Sam's shocked voice couldn't hide his
laughter.

"True."  She laughed along with him, remembering
the time she'd gotten caught by the theater
manager, Mr. Willis - who hadn't hesitated in
calling her father.  "I was ten when Da found out."

"Don't tell me - he paddled that little bottom
until you couldn't sit for a week."

"Actually no, he reserved those things for the
boys.  He made me work off what I owed to Mr.
Willis by helping clean the theater every weekend."

"And you got to see the movies for free, anyway."

"Yep.  Da was a smart man; he knew if he made me do
anything else, I'd still sneak in after my
punishment was done."  She lowered her voice,
feeling a surge of love for her father.  "After I'd
paid off my debt, he asked Mr. Willis to keep me
on.  Of course, at the time I didn't know Da gave
Mr. Willis the money to pay me.  A quarter a week -
just enough to pay for the week's movie."

"Your father's a great guy," Sam said, his face
averted.  "You're lucky to have him."

Regret welled within her; here she was, praising
her father before a man who'd not enjoyed the
luxury of a concerned, giving parent.  "Sam -"

"Here we are," he interrupted her, pulling her to a
stop.  "Still remember the way to sneak in?"

One look at his face, and she tried to pull free. 
"Oh, no you don't.  I'm not getting into trouble
this time.  If you don't have the money to pay for
the movie, I can -"

"I have the money, Emma.  I'm just wondering if you
still have the guts to sneak in."  He leaned down
with a wink.  "C'mon.  When was the last time you
did something you weren't supposed to?"

She could think of a few.  Letting him talk her
into keeping the date.  Kissing him on the wet
floor of the pub.  She bit her lip, excitement
blossoming within her at the risk of it all.

"I know you want to, I can see it on your face.  If
we get caught, I'll take the blame."

"Sure, and Mr. Willis will ban me from the theater
for life."

"He still manages it?"

"Going on seventy, but he's still there."

"Follow me."  Oh, that look of his was definitely
trouble.

"Sam, I don't think we ought to do this."  But she
went along anyway, the thrill of doing what she
normally wouldn't pushing her to walk beside him.

Sam bypassed the startled girl in the booth and
opened the door.  Emma groaned at her shouted,
"Hey, you can't do that!" and suddenly found
herself face-to-face with one steadfast Mr. Willis.

"Emma?" He relaxed a bit when he saw her standing
there, but he eyed Sam with suspicion.  "Good to
see you, my dear.  Missed you last weekend."

Last weekend, she was busy sidestepping Sam Mulder,
who extended a hand with a broad smile.

"Mr. Willis?  Sam Mulder.  How do you do?"

After a moment's hesitation, Mr. Willis uncrossed
his arms and shook Sam's hand.  "You a friend of
Emma's?"

"Yes, sir."  Good God, the man was all charm, Emma
thought, as she watched him dazzle Mr. Willis with
a million-dollar smile.  "We were passing by and
Emma mentioned how much she liked movies, but she
didn't care much for Fred MacMurray."

Oooh, what a snake!  Really, she didn't care much
for Fred MacMurray, so technically, it wasn't a
lie.  Still, she couldn't believe his nerve!

"And she told me you'd been the manager of this
theater for years, so I figure you know the other
theaters in town.  The competition, so to speak."

Emma paled and squeezed Sam's hand as hard as she
could, trying to keep her wan smile pasted on her
face.

Sam kept on, oblivious to her warning, as he
straightened to his full height, his face becoming
a bit cool.  The perfect dissatisfied customer. 
Oh, he was good, she had to give him that.

"Is there anywhere else we can take in a movie? 
Doesn't have to be close by - I can get my driver
to take us across town if needed."

His driver?  Gracious, they were knee deep in it at
that point.  Still, Sam's rich man clothes and
superior attitude did the trick, as Mr. Willis
turned from penny-pinching owner to groveling kiss-
up in an instant.

"No need to do that, son.  It's a good movie,
really it is.  Lots of action and romance."  He
turned to Emma with a hopeful smile.  "You always
did like romance, Emma, if I recall correctly."

"Yes, sir," she answered weakly, scooting her foot
across the floor to give Sam a little kick in the
shin.

Which he ignored, waving a hand in dismissal.  "But
she likes Clark Gable - any Gable movies playing in
town?"

They weren't going to get away with it, she just
knew it.  She *hated* Clark Gable, with his big
ears and skimpy mustache.  Now, Robert Taylor, on
the other hand, made her swoon.  Surely Mr. Willis
noticed her absence at Gable movies?

Mr. Willis didn't answer the question, instead
giving Sam a big smile.  Emma hadn't seen Mr.
Willis smile in years; she stood stupefied, sensing
Sam's victory a kowtow away.

"Tell you what - how about I give you two free
popcorn tonight?  Emma has always loved our
popcorn, isn't that right dear?"

She opened her mouth to get in a word, but was
promptly denied by Sam's interruption - *again*. 
She was really going to have to speak to him about
his bad habit of cutting her off.

"We couldn't do that, Mr. Willis," he said with a
rueful shake of his head.  "That's taking
advantage, and besides, there are other theaters in
town, am I right?  I'm in town for the holidays,
and in need of some entertainment, so I expect to
see a *lot* of movies."

He was *actually* going to do it!  Mesmerized, Emma
stood silently, knowing exactly what Mr. Willis
would say next.

"Oh, I wouldn't want you to drag Emma all the way
across town, Mr. Mulder!  Stay, and be my guest,
you and Emma."  Mr. Willis fawned over Sam so much
it was all Emma could do not to giggle.  "Anything
you want, it's yours!"

"Well, we really couldn't..."

"I insist!  The newsreels are almost over; you're
just in time for the latest episode of Flash
Gordon.  You look like a man who appreciates a bit
of fantasy."

*That* was the understatement of the year, Emma
thought.  Sam certainly knew his way around a tall
tale.

"What do you think, sweetheart?"

It took her a moment to realize Sam addressed her. 
With a loving, dimpled grin, of course.  Dear Lord,
he put Robert Taylor to shame.

"Sounds good to me..."  Two could play that game,
as her free hand crept up the lapel of his coat. 
Mr. Willis' eyes just about popped out of his head;
she wondered how long it would take before her
reputation lay in shreds up and down the block,
then quickly decided she didn't care.  "Mophead."

She had no idea she could bat her eyelashes like
that.  Sam gulped, all at once at a loss for words.

"Mophead?"

Uh-oh.  Mr. Willis, despite his bootlicking, looked
at them with a tad of doubt, and Emma took up the
gauntlet, thoroughly enjoying herself now.

"Oh, it's just a little private joke between Sam
and me, Mr. Willis.  He's very good with a mop, you
know - oh!"

"Say thank you, Emma."

She found herself pulled along through the lobby by
a lock-jawed Sam.  "Thank you, Mr. Willis!" she
called over her shoulder, giggles catching up with
her at last.  "I'm sure we'll enjoy the movie!"

"Balcony's almost empty, Emma!" the manager shouted
back.  "You two have fun!  And don't forget to come
back soon!"

"I can't believe you said that," Sam muttered as he
ushered her though the lobby doors.  "I was on a
roll and you almost blew it."

"That's what you get for lying," she whispered
back, smiling at his consternation, her eyes
scanning the theater for two seats.  It was very
dark, and she held on to Sam's hand.  In a few
moments, their eyes would adjust and they'd sit.

"C'mon," he whispered back, pulling her away from
the main aisle.

"Where are we going?"

"Balcony."

"Balcony!"  The only people who sat in the balcony
were kids who wanted to sneak a smoke and couples
who... oh, Lord.  She was in such trouble now.

"Shhh," she heard from a couple of rows beyond
them, and she promptly quieted.

"Yeah, balcony."  In his whisper, she heard
triumph.  "That's what *you* get for putting your
two cents in."

On stiff legs, she let him guide her up the stairs.


**********


"Now, that wasn't so bad, was it?"

Sam slouched in his seat, finally letting go of her
hand as the credits rolled.  The house lights came
up, and he saw Emma wipe furiously at her eyes. 
She was such a romantic; even though the guy had
gotten the girl from the clutches of the bad guy
and all ended happily ever after, she still cried.

"Here."  He pulled his handkerchief from his coat
pocket.  She snatched it away with a glare.

"Don't you dare say a word."

"I wasn't going to."  Actually, he could have said
it was sweet, or touching, but he figured he'd put
her through enough for the past two hours.

As stiff as a board, she'd sat through the whole
picture, jerking every time he shifted in his seat,
like she expected him to pounce.  Other couples
took advantage of the dark reaches of the balcony,
and he'd heard sighs and lip smacking all the way
around.  Oh, he'd been tempted to steal a kiss, but
he knew it would do nothing but set him a step
back, not forward.  It had been enough for him to
hold her hand.  A very soft, feminine hand, in fact
- one he took pleasure in caressing withh his thumb
at every opportunity.

Face now dry, she leaned forward in her seat.  "All
right, let's go."

"Not so fast."  He took her hand again with an
apologetic smile.  "Let's let the crowd clear out
first.  I want to tell you I'm sorry."

"Sorry?"  Emma flopped back in her seat.  "For
what?"

"For making you uncomfortable with Mr. Willis.  For
dragging you up here and making you think I meant
to ravish you."

"You didn't mean to ravish me?"  Again, his heart
thudded at her disappointed look.  He wondered if
she realized how obvious it was; if she had, she
would never let it show so much.

"Nope.  I like to neck in more comfort."  He
stretched his long legs for emphasis, grimacing at
the lack of leg room.

"Ah, well," she sighed, facing forward.  "Don't be
thinking you'll get another chance, because you
won't."

He almost threw a 'Ha!' in her face, but thought
better of it.  "How'd you like the movie?"

A dreamy look swept over her face.  "It was
wonderful."

It was dreadful, in his opinion.  If that was the
kind of garbage movie studios put out since he'd
been gone, he'd pass.  Guy thinks fiancee is dead
after the Japanese invade Singapore.  Comes back
two years later to find the pearls he'd hidden,
only to find the girl very much alive and married
to another man.  Naturally, she doesn't remember
him, because she has amnesia.  He supposed he could
sympathize a little bit - especially since the girl
was a delicious Ava Gardner - but not even that
development could make him stomach the overdone
drama.  Whatever happened to John Wayne and Gary
Cooper?

"Sam?"

Emma's soft call of his name put a halt to his
thoughts.  He faced her, leaning in a bit to catch
scent of her hair.  It smelled of clean, flowery
soap - nothing expensive for his girl.  With a
rueful grin, he backed off before she could see how
close he was.  His girl.  Damn, he was getting way
ahead of himself.  "Yes?"

"Do you ever wonder what happened in those two
years?"  She faced him, a slight crease to her
brow.  "I mean, I don't want to pry or make you
feel uncomfortable...."

"I'm not uncomfortable."  Really, he felt like he
could spill his guts to Emma, something he'd never
done with anyone, man or woman.  She had an honest,
caring soul, despite her quickness to judge
sometimes.  But he guess he deserved her labeling
of him as a playboy, since he'd done nothing but
chase her from the moment he saw her.  "Do you mean
- do I have a wife somewhere I don't knoow about?"

Her frown deepened to the point of worry.  "Oh, I
hadn't thought about that."

"I don't have a wife, Emma," he hastened to assure
her.

"How do you know you don't?"

"Believe me, I don't."  One thing he was certain of
was his rampaging sexual urges... his body *felt*
like he hadn't been with a woman in two years, from
the way it clamored for Emma.  Besides, the
faceless man had said nothing to lead him to think
- he clenched his jaw over the thoughts  of the
meeting in the park.  That had been a delusion,
nothing more.

She seemed satisfied by his answer, but curious
still.  "Then where were you?  Why did you show up
on that street without clothes?"

He'd asked himself that same question many times,
and listened to the silent echo of his mind in
return.  It was frustrating, to say the least. 
"Maybe I was on my way home and got robbed."

"In Annapolis?  Please.  The closest we get to
robbery around here is -"

"A man with a knife who almost ruined our Sunday a
week ago?"

She chuckled, shaking her head.  "You've got a
point."

He could see it was important to her and he
understood why.  Emma liked order, not chaos, and
she struggled to put the pieces together to ease
her mind.  He wasn't exactly a good risk for her,
especially missing a good chunk of his life.  "I
think I was on my way home," he said softly. 
"Where I'd been, I don't know.  Maybe I'd been to
see my parents, but they weren't there.  Sure, it's
unusual to get waylaid in Annapolis, but not in
D.C.  Maybe whoever did it was on their way to
throw me in the Chesapeake, but never made it for
some reason."

"Maybe," she replied with a small smile.

He squeezed her hand, trying his best to make her
feel safe with him.  "You know what?  I don't
*care* where I've been.  What's important is that
I'm here now.  With you.  I wouldn't want to be
anywhere else, Emma."

"Not even with Ava Gardner?" she asked, her lips
curling prettily into a bigger, teasing smile.

"Oh, well... let me think about that a minute...
ow!"  The swift kick she gave him had all the
tickle of a feather, but he scrunched his face up
and watched her laugh.

"Serves you right, mophead.  Don't you know better
than to talk about other girls in front of your
date?"

"I do now."

"C'mon, ya rogue."  She stood, pulling him up with
her.  "You still owe me dinner."

"I do, don't I?"  He towered over her, intending to
steal his kiss, good night be damned.  But she
shoved at his chest and he staggered back to the
end of the row.  She followed, her nose in the air
as she made for the stairs.

"I sincerely hope I won't be forced to find a bug
in my soup," she threw over her shoulder.  "One
scam a night is all my poor Catholic soul is
allowed.  I'll be saying an extra rosary for
penance next Sunday as it is."

If he had his way, she'd be saying ten.  Or twenty. 
Just how many prayers did it take in forgiveness
for a bit of necking?

Her admonishment drifted up the stairs.  "Get your
mind out of the gutter, Sam Mulder, and feed me!"

His girl.  Yes, indeed.


End Chapter Fourteen


Note: "Singapore" was a movie starring Fred
MacMurray and Ava Gardner, released (as near as I
can tell) in 1947.  The plot is as stated in this
chapter, and one of these days, I'll get lucky and
catch it on TCM.  I know "Singles" was an element
to the challenge, but this is the closest I could
get.  I hope it still counts. :)