Julia
Chapter Eight

Disclaimers, etc. in Headers


Washington, D. C.
January 30, 2001
7:35 a.m.


Mulder was flushed and sweaty in his loose grey
sweatpants and Georgetown pullover.  He hadn't
seen her yet, hunched over as he was with his
back to the door.  After a few deep breaths, he
straightened and started for his room, yanking
the sweatshirt over his head.  She must have
gasped, although she was sure she couldn't,
because he stopped, a look of surprise flitting
across his face.  In seconds, he had the shirt
back on, but not before she'd seen the rest of
it.

The scar that marred his chin and neck extended
in a sickle over his breastbone.  God, it must
have been painful, she thought.  He'd been
carved like a Christmas turkey.

More painful to her was the cross that still
dangled from his neck, mocking her with its
presence.

"Had enough of me yet?" he sneered, walking to
the table, where he poured a glass of orange
juice and downed half of it in one gulp.

Julia didn't know what to do.  Indecision made
her shuffle from one foot to the other and she
had trouble meeting his eyes.  Unable to bear
his mocking gaze, she turned from him to scan
the landscape she'd wanted to see last night.

Her mouth opened in a horrified cry.  There was
nothing to see, really, no distinguishing
landmarks, just an array of portable floodlights
amidst a sea of rubble.  She'd heard it was bad
in Washington.  Rumors of mass destruction had
filtered through every city and town she'd
traveled through.  But nothing had prepared her
for this.

Oh, there were still a few buildings left
standing, after all, she was in one of them,
wasn't she?  But the majority of the city was a
burned carcass.  The major thoroughfares had
been cleared for strategic purposes, but there
was little or no traffic, just an armored
vehicle or two out on routine patrol.  No chance
at all of determining where she was; every
distinguishing landmark with a mile was gone.

"Quite a sight, isn't it?"  The question drifted
over her left shoulder.

Julia quickly wiped at the tears that trickled
down her cheeks before turning to see him right
behind her.  She backed away a step or two;  his
jaw tightened.

"I'm not going to hurt you," he mumbled,
dropping his head and heading for the bedroom.

Jesus, she had to do something.  The sooner they
got along, the better.  She ran to his side,
stopping his flight with a hand on his arm.

His eyes snapped from the sight of her slender
fingers to her face.  "What?"

Julia held up a hand, then walked to the table
by his chair.  Chances were, he had a pencil and
paper somewhere nearby.  He preferred the old-
fashioned way of note-taking.

Some things never change, she thought to
herself, spying her needs in the single drawer. 
For a split second, she froze.  What was she
doing?  She wasn't supposed to know any of his
former habits.  But she threw that thought away;
it was a natural conclusion that anyone could
have made.  Scribbling quickly in a sloppy
mockery of her former handwriting, she brought
the pad back to him and waited patiently for his
answer.

"I don't know what the hell you're supposed to
do when I'm not here," he said, handing the pad
back to her.  "Just stay out of my way when I
*am* here, okay?"  He finished the trek to the
bedroom door before turning.  He seemed to be
unsure of his next words, biting his lip before
speaking.  "You may want to learn sign language. 
I already know it and we can at least carry on a
conversation.  If you even would want to speak
to me."  He slammed and locked the door once
again.

Julia waited until she heard the shower before
ushering Eliza from the bedroom.

"Jesus, that was scary," Eliza mumbled under her
breath.  "I'll be back after he's gone to the
administrative offices, okay?"

Julia nodded, then quickly wrote two words on
the pad and handed it to Eliza.

"Sign language?  Of course, Julia, I can tutor
you myself.  It comes in very handy, let me tell
you.  A couple of weeks and you'll be spouting
love poetry to that gorgeous man."

Somehow, Julia doubted that.

She wrote again, asking Eliza to return when she
heard Mulder leave.  With a wink, Eliza
assented, then left.  Julia couldn't stand to
face him again, so she retreated to her bedroom
until she heard the slam of the front door.

In a matter of minutes, Eliza breezed in. 
"Ready?"

Julia nodded and they made their way downstairs
to the shops on the first floor while Eliza kept
up her constant chatter.  Julia didn't mind,
though; the more Eliza talked, the more she
learned.  'Gossip' was Eliza's middle name,
apparently.

While poring through the racks of designer
negligees and evening wear, Julia listened,
lamenting the loss of her long-ago closet full
of hand-picked armor.  Black suits with maybe a
splash of color in the silk blouses; the kind of
clothes that elevated her to the status of an
equal.

Eliza had pulled her away from the staid outfits
she'd been perusing when they'd first walked in,
explaining that those things just weren't,
"Pleasing to a man, dear."

Julia had tried to show her disapproval with a
scowl, but it sailed right over Eliza's head. 
The woman was adept at reading facial
expressions and even more skilled at ignoring
them, when she so chose.

"Now, that's more like it," Eliza purred,
sidling up beside Julia and fingering the piece
of red satin.  "He is going to love you in this,
Julia."

Another few minutes and the woman would be
salivating, Julia thought.  But the game must be
played, so she grabbed items at random, the plum
red gown included, and made her way to the
dressing room.

One after the other, she modeled them for Eliza,
feeling more and more like a prostitute with
every slide of the silky fabrics against her
body.  Even the underwear was nothing more than
flimsy scraps of lace and satin; Julia had never
worn things like that in her life.  Serviceable
clothes and shoes had been the norm for years.

"You know, the master usually helps select his
girl's wardrobe," Eliza said casually, sitting
in the velvet covered chair and sipping a latte. 
Waving away the shop girl, she pooh-poohed a
pink bustier with a grimace.  "With her
coloring?  Please.  Bring out the jade greens,
the midnight blues.  She's not a schoolgirl,
can't you see that?"

In the mirror, Julia paled and tried to catch
Eliza's eye.  What had she said before her
dressing down of the timid attendant?

Finally, Eliza noticed Julia's statue-like stare
and set down her cup with a smile.  "Oh, don't
worry, Julia.  He's not coming down here.  From
what I understand, he's left you to me for this. 
Just like he's done with the others before you."

A twinge of something that felt suspiciously
like jealousy fluttered through Julia.  Her
cheeks darkened to rival the color of the red
nightgown and she pulled at the thin straps,
trying to lift the bodice where it plunged
immodestly.

When she looked at the mirror again, Eliza was
right behind her.  "Don't fret, my dear.  Rumor
has it he's not cruel; in fact, from all I've
heard, he treats his women well.  And you've
already said he's a good lover, so what's to
worry about?"

<I don't think I'm his type,> Julia mouthed,
meeting the reflection of Eliza's gaze.

Her companion snorted and rolled her eyes. 
"Come on, Julia!  Petite redheads *are* his
type, you know that.  Now, go try on that oyster
lingerie set.  It will look fabulous, I just
know it."  She turned and met up with the shop
girl, whose arms were loaded down with more
seductive tools of the trade.

Julia was in no hurry, though.  Despite the
uncomfortable feeling of being on display,
especially in view of the passersby - though
they were few and far between - in the lobby
outside the shop's door, she was savoring the
time out of the suite, and she'd only been there
one day.

The shop had obviously not been a clothing store
before the Invasion; there was only one little
curtain-covered cubicle in the back, and the
only mirror was hung on the wall outside it. 
But it was a huge mirror, with three moveable
panels on hinges, so Julia could see herself
from practically all sides with ease.

The 'oyster lingerie set,' as Eliza had named
it, was nothing more than a bra and panties made
of shimmering pearl satin.  It was actually less
revealing than any other underwear she'd tried
on and she fell in love with it immediately.  It
looked so similar to her own clothes and she
draped the red silk robe over it, unwilling to
walk out of the dressing room in just her
underwear.  She would open the robe for a quick
peek in front of the mirror.

It was a bad idea.  As she parted the robe, her
mind wandered.

Back to a night of thunder and candles, of
discovery and beginnings.  Julia's arms sported
gooseflesh as she remembered how frightened
she'd been back then, and how much better she'd
felt....

Now, her own arms came around her at the waist,
as waist that was smaller, more defined. 
Hugging herself with melancholy, she raised her
eyes to look at her face.  A face that was as
unfamiliar as the fear she'd felt that long ago
night.

<They're just mosquito bites.>

<Are you sure?>

<Yeah.  I got eaten up a lot myself out there.>

Dropping her head, she allowed the tears to
gather, but not to fall.  Just a moment lost in
time, a moment that she would put away forever.

"Well," Eliza breathed, somewhere over Julia's
left shoulder.  "Seems we have an audience."

Julia focused beyond Eliza's painted face to the
one that stood transfixed in the doorway of the
shop.  What was he doing here?  Eliza had sworn
that he didn't care about the frivolous side of
their union....

Mulder was flanked by Guardsmen, dressed in a
severe black suit.  Why wasn't he upstairs in
his office, doing whatever dirty work they'd
given him?  Julia wondered if she'd have to
endure his presence night and day.  She hoped
not; her determination had already suffered a
blow from the previous night.

His gaze met hers in the mirror, then traveled
down her scantily clad body before coming back
up.  She felt a blush begin in her face and
follow the path of his eyes, but she was firm in
her resolve not to look away from him, though
she slowly drew the edges of the robe back
together.  She could give as good as she got;
the almost breakdown she'd had last night would
not happen again.

But she wasn't prepared for the look in his eyes
when they locked with hers at last.  He
remembered, too.  It was there in the soft glow
that she could feel, though he was some yards
away.  Like opening a photo album of treasured
mementoes, the air between them grew warm and
alive for a few seconds.

Until he dropped his chin, breaking the contact. 
His face became cloudy, unfocused... anguished,
his eyebrows drawing together as if he were in
pain.  Julia was struck by the transformation
and she drew in a sharp breath, preparing to
turn around and see if it was really so.

God, not again, she thought.  Don't let me be
swayed.  Don't let him get to me like this.  But
when she turned, he was gone.

She'd won this round.  Or had she?



End Chapter Eight
