Jerome
By Shoshana

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
June 27th, 1999, 3 p.m.-ish
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

After we left the Medicine Wheel at Boynton Canyon, Mulder and I
drove our rented jeep around the area, trying to take in as many of
the unusual red-hued rock formations as we could. Bell Rock, Coffee
Pot Rock, Cathedral Rock...all suitably named, either for their
resemblance to ordinary objects or the majesty of God's creation they
so well represented. We acted like typical gaping tourists,
awestruck by the dramatic buttes and spires sculpted by millions of
years of erosion. It made me feel small and inconsequential, a blip
on the radar screen of life. But however transitory I felt, I felt
blessed that I had Mulder by my side, as spellbound as I was with our
surroundings.

We returned to the claustrophobic city center and reclaimed our
vehicle. Mulder had made me pack up this morning, refusing to reveal
whether we'd go back to Phoenix for the evening. I gave no argument,
but I was still curious about our ultimate destination for the night.

We stopped in a cafe for a late lunch, then took a stroll pass
souvenir and jewelry shops galore. One U.F.O./psychic book shop
attracted Mulder's attention and he wordlessly begged me to go in. I
relented so that I could have the guilty pleasure of browsing through
some local artisans' jewelry, something I probably wouldn't have gone
out of the way to do myself. Mulder plopped down in an aisle toward
the back of the store and was totally engrossed in a book about local
alien abductions.

I fingered the jewelry, trying on some of the more tempting pieces,
gazing at the effect in hand-held mirrors. I didn't wear much
jewelry to work, except for my gold cross. If I bought something, it
would be for casual dress, not to coordinate with my Bureau attire.
While I proceeded slowly from display to display, scrutinizing every
piece to fill the time, I thought about what the future held for
Mulder and me.

I always use to know what was going to happen to me, one, two years
down the road. Not after I was teamed with Mulder on the X-Files.
Other than believing that I would have no other partner, or none at
all, I never knew what the future held. We had been kicked on and
off the Files, replaced by others, forced to work crappy assignments
as punishment. I could only hope that we'd never lose our positions
again, but that hope was a brave one, contingent on the Consortium
remaining powerless.

I also had resigned myself to the life we have led, traipsing around
the country, living out of suitcases, sleeping in sometimes very
strange motels. I've never really been that unhappy, never lonely,
with Mulder my constant companion. But I have been curious when it
would all stop. Would I bring it to an end, by leaving of my own
volition, or would we find the elusive truth about Samantha, the
conspiracy against our government, against my own body? Or would
Mulder and I become disenchanted at precisely the same moment,
looking into one another's eyes one afternoon, realizing the futility
of it all, and agreeing to 'get out of the damn car', like I had
suggested to him once last year?

We had definitely upset the apple cart the last few days. I will
never regret the path we have chosen, to become romantically involved
after all these years in a close, sweet friendship. But I realize
the hazards on the road ahead, ones which we haven't even had the
leisure to consider, so occupied with one another and other major
sightseeing duties. When things quieted down, when we returned home,
what would happen? Would we hide our relationship? Tell a few and
say the hell with the rest? Would we stay with each other every
night? Wouldn't we crave privacy, time apart like we always have?

Would I start having endless fantasies about getting married,
adopting kids, and buying a house to accommodate them all? I had
already considered what kind of father Mulder might be. I had
thought about it a lot after Emily. He would be a wonderful father,
if he were around to see his kids grow up. As long as we held onto
the X-Files and the lifestyle it entailed, there would no children in
our lives. I refuse to drop them off at Mom's every time we have to
leave town.

I guess it was all speculation at this point. But I can't imagine
being with anyone but Mulder the rest of my life. And God willing
we'll have time to have peaceful lives, lives I've always fantasized
about, but never counted on happening. Maybe we do have normal
lives, normal for us. Highly educated, well-trained individuals,
with a path to follow, an obligation to fulfill, to all those we care
about, and all those beyond. I've already made great sacrifices to
this quest. I only hope that we will have to make no more before
getting to the truth at its end.

I felt a presence behind me and warm hands encircled my waist as I
tried on my umpteenth necklace of the day. I brought the hand mirror
up to my face so that I could see both our reflections in it. He
looked so pleased, so serenely happy, that I scarcely recognized him.
Hopelessly in love looked good on him. I'll have to keep it that
way, I thought.

"Want that one?"

"Naw, just trying them on."

"Would you like to go now? I'm ready to reveal our destination."

"Sure, where to, Mulder?"

"We're driving to Jerome, affectionately know to residents there as
'Ghost City'. It's an old mining town that's been reborn as an
artist colony. And tourist attraction. They lay claim to lots of
nocturnal visitors, former miners, prostitutes, influenza victims."

"I should have guessed this one. I've read a lot about it in travel
brochures. Did you make reservations?"

"Sure did. The Inn at Jerome. It's supposed to be haunted by a
phantom cat that leaves indentations wherever it sleeps. Also,
objects have seemed to move around the rooms by themselves and an
armoire lost its doors, mysteriously and violently."

"Somehow, Mulder, those occurrences don't sound too terrifying. I
think really scary ghosts need to have had some kind of violent
demise, the more blood the better."

"Well, maybe we'll see something more exciting when we take a stroll
after dinner. There must have been some bloody gunfights there when
it was a mining town. Too few women, too many men. We all know
where that can lead to."

"Monday night football?"

"Not exactly what I had in mind, no. Why don't we get going and we
can get settled before sunset. There's a great view from Jerome.
It's elevation is over 5200 ft. and you can see Flagstaff and Sedona
from up there."

So we drove to Jerome, checked into our 'haunted' hotel, and made
good use of the canopy bed before showering and heading out on the
town. We paused to take in the glorious sunset. You really could
see all the way to Flagstaff from there, the San Francisco Peaks
rising to the sky, aspens covering the mountains' higher altitudes.

We went to the Haunted Hamburger restaurant, just because. Even I
couldn't resist going to a place with a name like that in the most
well known ghost town in Arizona. We found out from one of the
locals where to go for a few beers and found ourselves in a cowboy
bar, where anyone from businessmen to hippie types were shooting pool
or just relaxing with friends.

I was getting tired fast and we walked back to the Inn. I went up
to the room first and was just turning on the water in the old-
fashioned bathtub when Mulder came back, excitedly raving about the
ghost that the manager had told him about.

"Are you sure he's not pulling your leg, Mulder?"

"No. Well, I don't think so, at least. He says that a woman guest
has seen a spirit here, in the 'Spooks, Ghosts and Goblins' room.
Which of course, is the very room we're in! The guest always comes
dressed in Gibson girl attire. She believes she is in contact with
the ghost and I guess the clothes help her get into the appropriate
mood."

"Well, I'll believe it only when I see it."

"There's a full moon tomorrow night, Scully. You never know what
will happen," he said, grinning devilishly.

"Well, I know what I want to happen. My bath. You can join me in
this huge bathtub if you want, Mulder. And that's my final offer."

He attacked me from behind, as I leaned down to turn off the running
faucets. The bathtub was already full of lavender-scented bubbles I
had purchased at the little bookstore and souvenir shop that
afternoon. He whispered in my ear, "Naturally, that's an offer I
can't refuse."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Later that night ( Midnight?)
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I woke, not knowing why. I sensed that there was a good reason to
do so, and I was very careful not to wake Mulder up also. He was
sound asleep, all the stress bathed out of him by my lavender bubble
bath and love in a canopy bed.

I sat straight up, looking out into the darkness, wondering whether
I should reach for my gun if I was that spooked by something. Then I
saw her. A vague outline of a small woman, not much taller than I
am. She was dressed in an old-fashioned gown, with a bustle.
Skeptic, that I am, I wanted to not be seeing this. So I closed my
eyes, reopened them and saw her again. I just sat and stared,
wondering why in Heaven this was happening to me. Mulder was usually
the one who saw the ghosts, monsters, aliens, and spaceships.

I closed my eyes one more time and when I opened them she was gone.
I suppose I should have believed. However, the power of suggestion
is so strong, and I was so relaxed and happy before I went to bed,
that I still doubted whether she had appeared to me or not. And I
didn't wake Mulder. I didn't want to disappoint his childlike
enthusiasm for ghostly apparitions. Neither did I want to encourage
a new hobby, travelling around to haunted hotels so Scully could see
the ghosts, while he slept like a baby. I have enough things
interfering with a good night's sleep now. I didn't want to add that
obsession to my list.

I finally went back to sleep, cuddling up to my own personal
ghostbuster, who had continued to slumber through my questionable
vision.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
June 28th, 1999, 5:30 a.m.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I woke up to the sunlight drifting through diaphonous curtains.
We'd left them like that, not pulling the heavier drapes over from
either side. Mulder was already awake, amusing himself by staring at
my efforts to wake up with some dignity. I'm really not much of a
morning person till I've had my coffee. And I was not very well
rested, due to my ghostly visitor. So I just made a few choice faces
back at him and turned around so we could spoon like that till it was
really time to get up, and not just daybreak.

Naturally, Mulder was in a more talkative mood than I. The language
he was speaking was expressed by his warm lips and roving hands, and
I gradually found myself communicating as well, not so sleepy
anymore. We had a long, drawn out conversation, covering some of the
same territory we'd already explored the last few days, and adding a
few new words to our vocabulary as well.

Afterwards, we lay there, satiated, sweaty, blissful. And then he
said it, "Want to get married, Scully?"

fin

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