A Winter's Tale, Part 6
Dec. 27th, 2007 11:17 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
anjouficTitle: A Winter's Tale 6/21
Author:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
comice aka Anjou (Anjou@rocketmail.com)
Posting Date: December 2007/January 2008
Rating: R for language and sexuality; M for Mature readers
Classification: Mulder/Scully, UST/MSR, AU
Archive: No archival until the story is completed, please. I'll be submitting to Ephemeral and Gossamer myself.
Spoilers: Through Two Fathers/One Son (S6), then AU. In other words, no Arcadia and beyond. Mytharc-y.
Disclaimer: All X-Files personnel belong to 1013 and Fox. All other elements are mine.
Author's Note: From some of the e-mails I've been getting, I guess that I should have put an angst warning on this story. This is a winter's tale, meant to be told when the nights are dark and long. It is my imagining of part of the heroes journey for Mulder and Scully, and the heroes journey is always fraught with peril. But in my world, a hero is defined by how they transcend what has been done to them. And I believe in triumph.
Daily posts can be read on my fic journal:anjoufic, as well as Ephemeral and other XF fic sites. The whole tale will be archived at my website, No Other … , maintained by the generous dtg, when it is completed.
As always, thanks to my sister and editrix, Suzanne, for her support.
Summary: Cast your memory back to the dark days of Season 6, to the period immediately following the confrontation between Mulder and Scully in the Gunmen's Office. It is late winter, dark and cold, the landscape obscured and transformed by snow and ice. One must step carefully, for the very ground can be treacherous. This is a lesson Mulder and Scully have already learned when the pristine snow in Antartica yielded a long-buried secret. But the winter can hold many secrets, and could tell many tales, if it so chose.
This is but one.
~*~
It was the little things that were wearing her down, chipping away at her resistance bit by bit. She'd seen a man creating an ice sculpture once, and she was amazed at how he coaxed the shape of the mermaid out of the square mass of the ice in front of him. Mulder was working on her bit by bit, pulling her into this world he was creating with Hannah. He was doing it by making it clear that she was free to join in, but that she needn't feel obligated. If she'd asked, she was sure that Hannah would have told her that Mulder was paying attention to her every move, and it's true, he was. But he was eminently capable of paying attention to more than one thing at a time, as he proved when he was helping Hannah get ready to take her shower. Scully had booted up her laptop to compose a brief message to the Gunmen from one of her anonymous e-mail accounts, and was waiting for the dial-up connection to the internet to be verified. Once again, she was treated to the sight of Mulder with a hairbrush as he patiently brushed the mass of Hannah's hair into some sort of order, before inexpertly trying to smush it atop her head to be held by the too large shower cap. In so doing, he positioned Hannah so that Scully had a perfect view of the unmarred nape of her neck and the top of her spine. She felt some of the tension in her body ease at the sight, as an unaware Hannah giggled at Mulder's inefficient attempts to get her hair into the shower cap.
While he was brushing her hair, Mulder told Hannah that he used to brush his little sister's hair. "It was really curly," he told her, "and it would get tangled really easily. Sometimes my mom would get a little impatient with the knots and the snarls …"
"But you never did," Hannah finished triumphantly.
"Well," Mulder shrugged, "that's not exactly true. I tried not to hurt her as much as I could, but sometimes I did anyway."
Scully's hands stilled on the keyboard; she could feel the weight of Mulder's gaze upon her. She kept her eyes on the blinking cursor for as long as she could, but when Hannah asked Mulder a question about the playground, thought it was safe to raise her eyes. Mulder's hands were trying to stuff Hannah's hair under the cap again, but he would have been doing a better job of it if he hadn't been watching her instead of what he was doing. She felt the ghost of a smile come over her face at the intensity of his expression. It was unorthodox and not nearly enough, but she knew an apology when she heard it.
The moment was broken when Hannah's hair tumbled out of the cap again, and Mulder stifled an oath. "Oh, shi – oot!" he said, lamely.
"Hannah," Scully said, not breaking eye contact with Mulder. "Let me see if I can do it, OK?"
Hannah was surprised but trotted over to Scully easily. She brushed Hannah's hair, finding it free of all tangles, then scooped it into her hand, making a ponytail which she twisted up onto the back of Hannah's head. Holding it there, she put the shower cap on back-to-front and tucked the excess elastic over onto itself. It was a quick fix, but it would probably hold for a shower. "Are you sure that you can wash yourself?" she asked Hannah, trying to sound kind, rather than brisk.
Hannah shrugged. "I always took a shower at the hospital," she said. "But my hair would always get wet." She patted her cap. "Thanks."
Scully smiled at her, but noted that Hannah had yet to call her by any name, not just 'Mom'. She sighed and went back to her e-mail. It's not that she wanted Hannah to call her mother exactly, but if she was her mother … She pushed the thought away, and then went on to surf the day's news while she waited to see if there would be a response from the Gunmen. With Hannah in the bathroom showering, the room was suddenly very quiet. She felt herself tense up again.
"Scully," he said, "I went back to the Gunmen's after that day."
She nodded, raising her eyes to his.
"Some of the files that they had led me in some interesting directions."
"Obviously," she said dryly.
"I didn't really know what I was going to find," he said.
"But then you found Hannah," she said.
"I found Dr. Scanlon," he said quietly.
She jerked at the mention of Scanlon's name, but her mind was racing, thinking back to the bruises on Mulder's hands. There must have been some sort of struggle.
"He got away." She stated this far more calmly than she felt.
Mulder sighed. "The cavalry arrived. I was tracking him when I found Hannah in the back room of another clinic." He continued off her quizzical look. "They called it a hospital. Scully –" he broke off. "Hannah remembers other children being with her at the hospital."
Scully broke away from his gaze and walked over to the window, pulling the curtain back to look at the featureless parking lot blindly. "How many?"
Mulder was silent behind her in the room. She looked over her shoulder and saw him hunched over on the side of the bed, staring at his feet, still clad in their wingtips. He was clenching the muscle in his jaw.
"How many, Mulder?"
"I don't know," he said.
She made a dismissive noise.
"I don't, Scully." He stood up and took a step toward her, then halted. "I thought I was breaking into a records room, with files about one of their secret projects. I had no idea that there would be a child in the room." He ran his hands through his hair and began pacing in the small space. "They left her in there alone at night, with the TV on for company."
"Alone?" Scully asked, and then wondered why she was so shocked.
"She was monitored," he said, "but not well. The alarms didn't sound until after I left the room with her. We were almost out the door when the security guard came after us." He turned toward Scully. "I couldn't leave her there all alone, in that room with those empty beds." He stopped at a noise coming from the bathroom, and walked to the door. "Hannah? Are you OK in there?" he called.
"I'm all done," she said.
"How many empty beds, Mulder?" She asked. Her voice was rough with exhaustion.
"Three," he answered as Hannah came out the door. Her nightgown was buttoned wrong, and her hair was damp around the edges.
"Can you help me with the toothpaste?" She asked Mulder.
"Sure, honey," he answered, pulling off the cap, and crouching down to fix her buttons. "Did you clean behind your ears?" He checked behind them, making her giggle.
"How would I get dirty behind my ears?" she asked Mulder. It was clear that she found him extremely silly.
"It could happen," Mulder said.
"How?" she demanded, raising an eyebrow.
"Maybe when you were on the seesaw," Mulder said easily, moving her into the bathroom, "you kicked up some dirt and it landed right behind your ears."
"That couldn't happen," Hannah said, skeptically. "It would be all over my head!"
"Oh, you think so, do you?" Mulder asked, handing her the brush.
"Yes," Hannah argued, brushing and talking at the same time.
"Less talking, more brushing," Mulder said. "Maybe there's some of that dirt on your back teeth."
Hannah's protest was garbled.
"Mad dog!" Mulder said, wiping off some of the froth as Scully watched. "Here, go over the sink so you won't get it all over the floor." He lifted her up to reach.
Scully could feel herself smiling, but her chest felt unbearably tight. Behind her, she heard the chime of incoming e-mail and dragged herself away from the vision of a life that wasn't really hers to hard cold reality. Frohike's encoded note was terse, but reassuring. They'd watch all channels at the bureau and let her know when the alarm was raised at their disappearances. He gave instructions, encrypted of course, as to where and how to contact him next. She was surprised that the e-mail didn't self destruct after thirty seconds.
Hannah came out of the bathroom and hovered near the table. She could hear Mulder grumbling in the bathroom about all of the puddles left on the floor and wondered if there would be any dry towels for the morning.
"G'night," Hannah said very quietly.
"Good night, Hannah," Scully said. She stood up and held out her hand to Hannah. She could see that Hannah was surprised and unsure, so Scully took her hand and led her to the bed, pulling back the covers. "Who do you want to come in with you?" Scully asked, patting the bed so that Hannah would get in.
"My tiger," Hannah whispered.
Scully handed her the tiger, and crossing to the other side of the bed, lined up all Hannah's stuffed animals, tucking them under the covers. When she finished, she returned to Hannah's side, smoothing the covers over her. "There you go," she said, "now all of your friends are tucked in with you."
"Thanks," Hannah said, smiling shyly.
"You're welcome," Scully said, smoothing the hair back from Hannah's forehead. She really was a beautiful little girl, and Scully ached to think of her having been so alone in such a place. It didn't matter whose child she was – no child deserved such a life. "Do you want me to leave the light on?" She asked Hannah, indicating the lamp over her bed.
"Off," Hannah whispered, "but …" she hesitated. "Could you put the TV set on?" she asked. "I always sleep with it on." Her face was worried, as if Scully might deny her that one comfort.
"Sure," she said lightly. Leaning forward, she whispered conspiratorially to Hannah. "Mulder can't sleep without the TV set on, either."
Hannah's eyes shone. "Really?"
"Really," Scully answered, and then surprised both of them by kissing Hannah on the forehead. "Go to sleep, Hannah."
She stood up and walked over to the TV set. In the reflection from the bureau mirror, she could see Fox Mulder standing in the bathroom door, gripping a damp towel in his hands and watching her with an anguished expression on his face. She switched on the TV and found a re-run of an old sitcom. Turning the sound down low, she sat back down at the table and determinedly began to surf the net.
~*~
Part 7
Author:
comice aka Anjou (Anjou@rocketmail.com)Posting Date: December 2007/January 2008
Rating: R for language and sexuality; M for Mature readers
Classification: Mulder/Scully, UST/MSR, AU
Archive: No archival until the story is completed, please. I'll be submitting to Ephemeral and Gossamer myself.
Spoilers: Through Two Fathers/One Son (S6), then AU. In other words, no Arcadia and beyond. Mytharc-y.
Disclaimer: All X-Files personnel belong to 1013 and Fox. All other elements are mine.
Author's Note: From some of the e-mails I've been getting, I guess that I should have put an angst warning on this story. This is a winter's tale, meant to be told when the nights are dark and long. It is my imagining of part of the heroes journey for Mulder and Scully, and the heroes journey is always fraught with peril. But in my world, a hero is defined by how they transcend what has been done to them. And I believe in triumph.
Daily posts can be read on my fic journal:
anjoufic, as well as Ephemeral and other XF fic sites. The whole tale will be archived at my website, No Other … , maintained by the generous dtg, when it is completed.As always, thanks to my sister and editrix, Suzanne, for her support.
Summary: Cast your memory back to the dark days of Season 6, to the period immediately following the confrontation between Mulder and Scully in the Gunmen's Office. It is late winter, dark and cold, the landscape obscured and transformed by snow and ice. One must step carefully, for the very ground can be treacherous. This is a lesson Mulder and Scully have already learned when the pristine snow in Antartica yielded a long-buried secret. But the winter can hold many secrets, and could tell many tales, if it so chose.
This is but one.
~*~
It was the little things that were wearing her down, chipping away at her resistance bit by bit. She'd seen a man creating an ice sculpture once, and she was amazed at how he coaxed the shape of the mermaid out of the square mass of the ice in front of him. Mulder was working on her bit by bit, pulling her into this world he was creating with Hannah. He was doing it by making it clear that she was free to join in, but that she needn't feel obligated. If she'd asked, she was sure that Hannah would have told her that Mulder was paying attention to her every move, and it's true, he was. But he was eminently capable of paying attention to more than one thing at a time, as he proved when he was helping Hannah get ready to take her shower. Scully had booted up her laptop to compose a brief message to the Gunmen from one of her anonymous e-mail accounts, and was waiting for the dial-up connection to the internet to be verified. Once again, she was treated to the sight of Mulder with a hairbrush as he patiently brushed the mass of Hannah's hair into some sort of order, before inexpertly trying to smush it atop her head to be held by the too large shower cap. In so doing, he positioned Hannah so that Scully had a perfect view of the unmarred nape of her neck and the top of her spine. She felt some of the tension in her body ease at the sight, as an unaware Hannah giggled at Mulder's inefficient attempts to get her hair into the shower cap.
While he was brushing her hair, Mulder told Hannah that he used to brush his little sister's hair. "It was really curly," he told her, "and it would get tangled really easily. Sometimes my mom would get a little impatient with the knots and the snarls …"
"But you never did," Hannah finished triumphantly.
"Well," Mulder shrugged, "that's not exactly true. I tried not to hurt her as much as I could, but sometimes I did anyway."
Scully's hands stilled on the keyboard; she could feel the weight of Mulder's gaze upon her. She kept her eyes on the blinking cursor for as long as she could, but when Hannah asked Mulder a question about the playground, thought it was safe to raise her eyes. Mulder's hands were trying to stuff Hannah's hair under the cap again, but he would have been doing a better job of it if he hadn't been watching her instead of what he was doing. She felt the ghost of a smile come over her face at the intensity of his expression. It was unorthodox and not nearly enough, but she knew an apology when she heard it.
The moment was broken when Hannah's hair tumbled out of the cap again, and Mulder stifled an oath. "Oh, shi – oot!" he said, lamely.
"Hannah," Scully said, not breaking eye contact with Mulder. "Let me see if I can do it, OK?"
Hannah was surprised but trotted over to Scully easily. She brushed Hannah's hair, finding it free of all tangles, then scooped it into her hand, making a ponytail which she twisted up onto the back of Hannah's head. Holding it there, she put the shower cap on back-to-front and tucked the excess elastic over onto itself. It was a quick fix, but it would probably hold for a shower. "Are you sure that you can wash yourself?" she asked Hannah, trying to sound kind, rather than brisk.
Hannah shrugged. "I always took a shower at the hospital," she said. "But my hair would always get wet." She patted her cap. "Thanks."
Scully smiled at her, but noted that Hannah had yet to call her by any name, not just 'Mom'. She sighed and went back to her e-mail. It's not that she wanted Hannah to call her mother exactly, but if she was her mother … She pushed the thought away, and then went on to surf the day's news while she waited to see if there would be a response from the Gunmen. With Hannah in the bathroom showering, the room was suddenly very quiet. She felt herself tense up again.
"Scully," he said, "I went back to the Gunmen's after that day."
She nodded, raising her eyes to his.
"Some of the files that they had led me in some interesting directions."
"Obviously," she said dryly.
"I didn't really know what I was going to find," he said.
"But then you found Hannah," she said.
"I found Dr. Scanlon," he said quietly.
She jerked at the mention of Scanlon's name, but her mind was racing, thinking back to the bruises on Mulder's hands. There must have been some sort of struggle.
"He got away." She stated this far more calmly than she felt.
Mulder sighed. "The cavalry arrived. I was tracking him when I found Hannah in the back room of another clinic." He continued off her quizzical look. "They called it a hospital. Scully –" he broke off. "Hannah remembers other children being with her at the hospital."
Scully broke away from his gaze and walked over to the window, pulling the curtain back to look at the featureless parking lot blindly. "How many?"
Mulder was silent behind her in the room. She looked over her shoulder and saw him hunched over on the side of the bed, staring at his feet, still clad in their wingtips. He was clenching the muscle in his jaw.
"How many, Mulder?"
"I don't know," he said.
She made a dismissive noise.
"I don't, Scully." He stood up and took a step toward her, then halted. "I thought I was breaking into a records room, with files about one of their secret projects. I had no idea that there would be a child in the room." He ran his hands through his hair and began pacing in the small space. "They left her in there alone at night, with the TV on for company."
"Alone?" Scully asked, and then wondered why she was so shocked.
"She was monitored," he said, "but not well. The alarms didn't sound until after I left the room with her. We were almost out the door when the security guard came after us." He turned toward Scully. "I couldn't leave her there all alone, in that room with those empty beds." He stopped at a noise coming from the bathroom, and walked to the door. "Hannah? Are you OK in there?" he called.
"I'm all done," she said.
"How many empty beds, Mulder?" She asked. Her voice was rough with exhaustion.
"Three," he answered as Hannah came out the door. Her nightgown was buttoned wrong, and her hair was damp around the edges.
"Can you help me with the toothpaste?" She asked Mulder.
"Sure, honey," he answered, pulling off the cap, and crouching down to fix her buttons. "Did you clean behind your ears?" He checked behind them, making her giggle.
"How would I get dirty behind my ears?" she asked Mulder. It was clear that she found him extremely silly.
"It could happen," Mulder said.
"How?" she demanded, raising an eyebrow.
"Maybe when you were on the seesaw," Mulder said easily, moving her into the bathroom, "you kicked up some dirt and it landed right behind your ears."
"That couldn't happen," Hannah said, skeptically. "It would be all over my head!"
"Oh, you think so, do you?" Mulder asked, handing her the brush.
"Yes," Hannah argued, brushing and talking at the same time.
"Less talking, more brushing," Mulder said. "Maybe there's some of that dirt on your back teeth."
Hannah's protest was garbled.
"Mad dog!" Mulder said, wiping off some of the froth as Scully watched. "Here, go over the sink so you won't get it all over the floor." He lifted her up to reach.
Scully could feel herself smiling, but her chest felt unbearably tight. Behind her, she heard the chime of incoming e-mail and dragged herself away from the vision of a life that wasn't really hers to hard cold reality. Frohike's encoded note was terse, but reassuring. They'd watch all channels at the bureau and let her know when the alarm was raised at their disappearances. He gave instructions, encrypted of course, as to where and how to contact him next. She was surprised that the e-mail didn't self destruct after thirty seconds.
Hannah came out of the bathroom and hovered near the table. She could hear Mulder grumbling in the bathroom about all of the puddles left on the floor and wondered if there would be any dry towels for the morning.
"G'night," Hannah said very quietly.
"Good night, Hannah," Scully said. She stood up and held out her hand to Hannah. She could see that Hannah was surprised and unsure, so Scully took her hand and led her to the bed, pulling back the covers. "Who do you want to come in with you?" Scully asked, patting the bed so that Hannah would get in.
"My tiger," Hannah whispered.
Scully handed her the tiger, and crossing to the other side of the bed, lined up all Hannah's stuffed animals, tucking them under the covers. When she finished, she returned to Hannah's side, smoothing the covers over her. "There you go," she said, "now all of your friends are tucked in with you."
"Thanks," Hannah said, smiling shyly.
"You're welcome," Scully said, smoothing the hair back from Hannah's forehead. She really was a beautiful little girl, and Scully ached to think of her having been so alone in such a place. It didn't matter whose child she was – no child deserved such a life. "Do you want me to leave the light on?" She asked Hannah, indicating the lamp over her bed.
"Off," Hannah whispered, "but …" she hesitated. "Could you put the TV set on?" she asked. "I always sleep with it on." Her face was worried, as if Scully might deny her that one comfort.
"Sure," she said lightly. Leaning forward, she whispered conspiratorially to Hannah. "Mulder can't sleep without the TV set on, either."
Hannah's eyes shone. "Really?"
"Really," Scully answered, and then surprised both of them by kissing Hannah on the forehead. "Go to sleep, Hannah."
She stood up and walked over to the TV set. In the reflection from the bureau mirror, she could see Fox Mulder standing in the bathroom door, gripping a damp towel in his hands and watching her with an anguished expression on his face. She switched on the TV and found a re-run of an old sitcom. Turning the sound down low, she sat back down at the table and determinedly began to surf the net.
~*~
Part 7
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
no subject
Date: 2007-12-27 07:36 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-12-27 10:29 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-12-27 10:31 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-12-27 10:59 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-12-28 06:47 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-12-28 02:00 am (UTC)I'm glad Scully's starting to come round, although I don't blame her for being scared and careful-- she threw herself into Emily a little too much, too quickly, and I can totally believe that even subconsciously, she's trying to hold back from Hannah in case she dies
at the end of the episodeby the end of the week, too.no subject
Date: 2007-12-28 06:49 pm (UTC)Anyway, thanks!
no subject
Date: 2007-12-28 02:08 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-12-28 06:50 pm (UTC)