Julia
Chapter Nineteen

Disclaimers, etc. in Headers


Washington, D.C.
February 10, 2001
1:45 p.m.


Boredom had set in about an hour ago, much to
her dismay.  Listening to Eliza prattle on and
on about nonsense grated on her nerves.  She
really shouldn't have felt that way about the
woman; it wasn't that she was cruel, unlike the
rest of the personnel in the hotel.  As Julia
sat and smiled, she wondered if maybe she should
attempt to warn Eliza of tomorrow night's
events.  Not overtly, of course.  She would not
jeopardize the plan with such foolhardy
sentiments.

But how to do it?  Eliza, for all of her
shallow, conniving ways, was her friend.  But
Julia had no doubt that the woman would not
hesitate to go straight to the Appointing
Authority with even a hint of something
suspicious.  Best not to take any chances; she
knew that Eliza dined in the restaurant nightly
and the woman would be on one of the lower
floors when the time came.  It was enough for
Julia to know that Eliza would at least stand a
fighting chance to survive.

"I'm getting very used to this, Julia," the
woman purred, sipping at the wine she ordered
with lunch.  "You know, if it weren't for you,
I'd still be on a bus in the middle of Podunk,
USA... or maybe not.  I like to think it was
fate for us to meet."

Julia smiled and sipped at the wine, still
nursing the same glass of Chardonnay she'd
poured for herself at the table.  Eliza,
however, had nearly finished the bottle.  Her
voice seemed unnaturally loud in the quiet of
the room, despite the Handel drifting in the
background.  Julia hoped the woman wasn't
getting tipsy; she certainly didn't feel like
dealing with an drunk Eliza.  Sober Eliza was
quite a handful without the added charm of
obnoxious inebriation.

As Eliza opened her mouth to veer off into
another train of thought - the woman couldn't
keep her mind on one thing for more than two
minutes - Julia heard a knock at the door. 
Briefly closing her eyes in relief, she stood to
answer the door.

"What?  What is it?"  The knock finally
penetrated the incessant drone coming out of her
mouth.

<Laundry man, I think.> With a small grin, Julia
made for the door, ignoring Eliza's huff.

"Why don't you just get some more clothes,
Julia?  Something more... feminine.  You persist
in wearing the same things over and over.  The
Minister probably doesn't appreciate those
jeans, you know."

Julia ran her palms down her thighs; she'd kept
the jeans and sweater Eliza had given her the
first day, and had talked the woman into
sneaking in one more pair, along with another
sweater.  She wore them at every opportunity
when Mulder wasn't there.  She'd change into the
lingerie before he came home, intent on living
the part of concubine as required.  But now that
he knew who she was, she'd be damned if she'd
don any of those skimpy clothes again.

<He's never seen me in this, and he never will,
okay?> She backed away to the door, throwing her
hands up in a show of capitulation.  The lie
came easy to her, but she almost laughed at the
consternation on Eliza's face.

"Why I ever thought I could get the tomboy out
of you is beyond me," she sighed, downing the
last of the wine before reaching for the bottle.

<Believe me, Eliza... the Minister likes me just
the way I am.> She threw a pointed look at the
woman before turning for the door.

"What?  Julia -"

But Julia waved off the startled questioning and
opened the door.

"Miss?"  He searched her face as she did his. 
"Your laundry?"

Who was this man?  And why was he helping
Mulder?  She tried in vain to see beyond the
bland mask, but to no avail.  The placid blue
eyes were expressionless, waiting as a
subordinate should.

At her inaction, he asked again, "Miss?"

That snapped her from her scrutiny and she
backed away, ushering him in.  Behind her, she
heard Eliza's huff of impatience.  People of
importance didn't have time to deal with
menials... Julia could sense the unspoken in
that short sound of displeasure.  But she
ignored the woman and signed to the man to come
in and wait.

The bag was in Mulder's bedroom and it only took
a few seconds for her to retrieve it.  She was
relieved to see that Eliza had moved to the
telephone, where she was ordering more wine.  So
she took the opportunity to do a bit of probing,
handing the bag to him before raising her hands.

<The Minister has put specific instructions in
there this time.> She waited, hoping he
understood that she knew exactly what was going
on.

As she watched, his eyes widened just a bit, the
only outward sign of awareness.  "Not the
usual?"

<More starch in his shirts.> Glancing over her
shoulder, she saw Eliza still facing away. <And
a means of escape.  Tomorrow night.  It's all in
the note.>

The man nodded slowly and Julia smiled at the
hope that grew with every passing second.

"Tell him I'll take care of it personally, Miss. 
Thank you."

She followed him to the door and let him out,
just in time before Eliza hung up the telephone.

"Now," she said, walking back to the couch with
a deliberate stare, "tell me."

Julia moved to the opposite side of the couch,
feigning ignorance. <Tell you what?>

"You know, Julia... despite the fact that you're
still here - a good sign, apparently,
considering you've lasted the longest - I had my
doubts that you were going to work out."  She
shifted on the cushions, examining one perfectly
manicured hand.  "Oh, you had the looks.  And
the Appointing Authority knew there was
something special about you right away."

He did?  Julia's heart tripped, but she knew
Eliza was speaking in more general terms.  There
was no way the Appointing Authority could know
who she really was.  Actually, lately he'd been
having doubts about Mulder's acceptance of her -
he'd told Mulder as much himself.

"But I've been worried.  Rumor has it that the
Minister isn't... satisfied with you.  That
they're already looking for your replacement." 
Eliza, despite her calm voice, fidgeted in her
seat, avoiding Julia's eyes.  "You say he likes
you?  He's taken with you?"

Eliza was more worried about her position in the
Administration than she was about Julia's, that
was obvious.  She lived like royalty because
she'd lucked out, basically.  But the woman had
heard rumors; quite possibly knew everything
that went on in the apartment, via the escort
hierarchy.  And what she didn't know, she
guessed at.

Julia seethed inwardly at the quasi-confirmation
that it was probable *everyone* with any pull in
this place knew which way the wind blew with
regards to Mulder's sex life.  But of more
concern was the fact that it appeared that
discussions were ongoing to have her replaced. 
It was a real possibility and it could happen at
any moment, despite Mulder's protests that he
was happy with her.

Eliza knew. *They* knew.  They knew that he
hadn't touched her.

She didn't know what was worse... the nausea
their intrusion summoned or the fear of
premature removal.

<We get along well.> It was no use denying
Eliza's suspicions. But neither was she going to
discuss the lack of intimacy with the woman,
despite the fact that really, it was her sole
purpose for being there.  It was simply none of
her business.  <He's happy with me.>

One more day.  One more day and she would have
been out of there.  She and Mulder forever
leaving this place of greed and unspeakable
horror hidden in the folds of opulence.  One way
or another, they would have been gone; dead or
alive, repatriated or reborn in freedom.

Mentally she swore, using a word she seldom used
when she could speak.  Was it Krycek she'd
cursed with it the last time?

"Not happy enough, apparently," Eliza sighed. 
"Julia -" Her lament was interrupted by the
knocking at the door.

Relief spurred Julia to stand, glad for the
respite.  It was probably the maid; a mousy
woman who vacuumed and changed the bed linens
once a week, but little else.  Her visits were
haphazard at best, and Julia ignored her when
she came, mostly.  This time, though, she'd make
the woman dust every corner if it would prevent
Eliza from continuing.  With a slight smile, she
opened the door.

Then stilled, her smile freezing into a blank
stare.  She pushed the door closed, but was
thwarted by a large boot.

"Now, is that any way to greet an old friend?" 
The voice was slimy in its arrogance, the
Guardsman poking his head through the crack with
insidious threat.

Using all her strength, she levered herself
against the door in a vain attempt to keep him
out.  Eliza's slightly panicked, "Julia?" came
from close behind her.

It was the same guard that had come on to her in
Mulder's absence just yesterday.  Despite her
growing alarm, she cursed the fates.  What else
could possibly go wrong?

He could muscle his way in, she thought, which
is precisely what happened in the next instant. 
Julia fell back, rigid with indignation.

Eliza fell into place beside her.  "What do you
want?"  Julia could have kissed her for not
cowering in the face of his intimidation.  But
she didn't know how long this show of bravado
would last, considering neither of them dared to
cause a scene.

"Surprise inspection," he drawled, his hand
resting upon his sidearm.  "Required weekly by
the Appointing Authority."

"Inspection for what?  The Bogeyman?"

At that, his face hardened.  "You," he nodded at
Eliza, "out."

She bristled at his command, but her voice was
shaky as she answered, "You have no right to -"

"I said, get out.  Unless you want *your*
surprise inspection next."  His eyes narrowed. 
"There've been suspicions of a leak in the
Administration for some time now... the evidence
could turn up *anywhere.*"

Don't leave me, Julia pleaded with her eyes.

But Eliza cleared her throat and lowered her
chin, clearly afraid of the man.  They both knew
that their word against his was worthless; no
matter what he said, he would be believed.

Eliza grasped Julia's hand and gave it a slight
squeeze.  Their eyes met and Julia knew she was
going to leave.  But something else glittered in
those dark depths and Julia was reassured.

Whatever you're going to do, do it quick, she
answered silently, squeezing Eliza's hand in
return.  Another small sneer at the Guardsman,
and Eliza was gone.

"What's she gonna do?"  He directed the question
at Julia, moving closer as she backed away. 
"You think she can just pick up the phone and
call that eunuch boyfriend of yours?"

If anyone's listening - and I know you are -
Julia thought, please do something.  She stood
her ground, arms crossed and chin lifted in
defiance.  No way was she showing an ounce of
her ever-growing fear to this man.

And it was growing, despite the fact that she
hadn't allowed herself to feel fear in months. 
She looked catastrophe in the face the day of
the Invasion.  Watched all manner of atrocities
since then, shamed herself before the men that
ruled now without blinking an eye.

Listened to Mulder berate her for degrading
herself this way... God... Mulder.

She paled at the feel of the Guardsman's sweaty
palm on her face, letting her eyes close with
distaste as she gave in to the urge to back
away.  But the backs of her knees hit the couch,
signaling an end to her retreat.  His hand
clamped onto her chin, forcing her to look at
him.

"No one's coming, baby," he whispered.  "It's
just me and you.  The other one... she wanted it
bad."

The other one?  The one who'd tried to kill
Mulder?  Was this the Guardsman she'd been
screwing behind Mulder's back?

"Too bad she did an Ophelia after the first
day... we could have had some fun."

Dear God... he was speaking of the concubine
before her... the woman who'd drowned herself in
the bathtub.  She hadn't been repulsed by
Mulder, as he'd thought.  She'd been attacked by
*this* man.

"She was a scared little thing."  His breath was
hot on her face.  "Easy pickings.  But you..." 
His other hand moved to her waist and he pulled
her toward him.  "You think you're better than
everyone.  I got news for you, baby.  You ain't
nothing but a whore, just like all the rest."

He couldn't hit her, she knew.  Couldn't really
be rough with her, or the marks would certainly
show.

"You think I won't hit you?"  He picked up on
her thoughts so easily; was she that
transparent?  Her fear was getting the better of
her, sweating out through her skin.  "Maybe,
maybe not.  But all it would take is one word
from me that the Minister's whore couldn't keep
her hands off me, and you're history."

She could take his gun.  Shoot him before he
knew what hit him.  Take him down with moves
learned long ago and perfected on criminals more
vicious than he'd ever aspire to be.  It would
be over in a handful of seconds.

But she couldn't.  To do so would jeopardize
everything she'd worked so hard for these past
months.  Bring a swift end to any hope for
escape.  Doom Mulder to this life forever.

Closing her eyes, she brought an image of his
beloved face to mind.  Submit, she must submit. 
She'd lost her body to this masquerade long ago,
all for Mulder.  This was just another piece of
her that would be lost, that's all.  Except this
time, she knew her soul would suffer.

Just let him do what he wants, her mind
screamed.  You are not Scully.  You are Julia. 
Act like it... *be* her.

Julia had no soul.  Nothing to be shattered,
nothing to be lost.  Scully had everything to
lose if she fought back.

A single tear squeezed out from beneath her
closed eyelids, winding its way down her cheek
in a hot betrayal.

"That's better," the Guardsman drawled, his
hands moving to her shoulders.  "Now... on your
knees."

I am Julia.  Mulder will never know.  I am
Julia.  Don't screw this up now.

If she said it to herself enough, it would sink
in.  She dropped to her knees, repeating the
words over and over.

I am Julia.  I am Julia.

The rasp of his zipper could not drown out her
mantra.

I am Julia.


End Chapter Nineteen