Dana Scully’s apartment
Saturday
11:20am
Mulder was late.
Thanks to a six-car pile-up on the Beltway, it had
been nearly 10:30pm before the agents
had made it back to DC from Stevensville. One look at his partner’s
tired face had prompted
Mulder to suggest that he drive Scully directly to her apartment rather
than back to her own car,
which was still in the parking garage at work. She had accepted only
after extracting his promise
that he would pick her up by eleven o’clock the next morning and take
her to the Hoover building
to collect the vehicle.
She had rescheduled Thursday’s cancelled dinner
with her mother for tonight, and had several
errands to run beforehand. She didn’t mention it to Mulder, but one
of the chores she intended to
accomplish today was to replace the broken chain on her door. He had
offered to fix it, being as
he was the one responsible for breaking it in the first place, but
Scully didn’t want to wait the week
or two it might take Mulder to get around to the task, nor did she
want to harp on him to get it done
sooner. She didn’t really want her partner to know how much it bothered
her not to have the chain there.
Intellectually, Scully realized that if someone
wanted to gain access to her apartment, something as
insignificant as a chain on her door wasn’t going to bar their way.
If she hadn’t already been aware of
that fact, the night before last would have proven it to her quite
effectively. Mulder had broken in and
been at her bedside before she’d even begun to stir.
It wasn’t meant to act as a hindrance to anyone
determined to enter her apartment without permission,
she had her gun for that; it was more of a … security blanket. She
just felt better knowing it was there. It
was ludicrous, she could admit that to herself, but the acknowledgement
did absolutely nothing to lessen
the comfort provided by those few thin links of metal. It was similar
to the irrational sense of security some
people derived from sleeping with their feet covered up, as if a thin
layer of cotton were some sort of
magical shield against any and all foot-grabbing boogeymen. It just
made her rest easier. At least it would
if her partner would ever show up…
A knock on the door interrupted any further thought
on the subject.
Scully looked pointedly at her watch as she opened
the door to admit her fellow agent, but he was
ready for her.
“I know, I know, I’m late. But I have a good excuse
this time, Scully.”
“What’s that Mulder? You had to stop on the way
over to break up a global conspiracy? You were
abducted by aliens who didn’t get the memo that they’re only supposed
to keep you for nine minutes?
Or did Elvis show up just as you were leaving your apartment and ask
you to make him a peanut butter
and banana sandwich?”
Her dry tone carried just a hint of amusement, and
in response he affected the Mulder-patented
Puppydog-Look No.49.
“Scully, you wound me. I would never try and use
such lame excuses on you. Besides, Elvis couldn’t
possibly show up at my door today. Everyone knows that on Saturday
nights he calls the bingo numbers
at the local Moose Lodge in Juneau, Alaska. Don’t you ever read the
National Enquirer?”
He grinned and handed her a paper bag bearing the
name of a local hardware store.
“I stopped to pick this up on my way over. I figured
you’d want it sooner rather than later.”
A glance inside the bag revealed a new door-chain
and all the required hardware. Sometimes Scully
wondered if maybe Mulder knew her just a little too well.
“Let’s go get your car and then I’ll fix your door,
Scully.”
She gave him a skeptical look. “Are you sure you
know how to use a drill, Mulder?”
“Why Agent Scully, I’ll have you know that I am
quite proficient in the use of many… tools.” She rolled
her eyes at his suggestive tone and mock leer, turning to lock the
deadbolt behind them as they left the
apartment.
They were nearly to the Hoover building when
the inquisition started, although they were not the
questions that Scully had been expecting.
“So, Scully, where’d you get that owl bracelet?”
“I bought it at a small consignment shop.”
“Oh? When was that?”
She thought for a moment. “Wednesday…no, Thursday
afternoon. I stopped after lunch to pick up
my dry cleaning, and saw it in the shop window next door on my way
back to the car. Funny thing was,
I don’t remember seeing it there on my way in to the dry cleaners.
They must’ve just put it out. I
remember thinking that must mean it was meant for me.” She smiled slightly
at the memory.
“I don’t recall seeing it on you after lunch on
Thursday.”
“That’s because you never saw me after lunch, remember?
You had an afternoon meeting with the
VCS to present that profile you worked up for them, while I had the
dubious honor of meeting with
Skinner to go over last month’s expense report. By the way, he says
that if you manage to lose or
destroy one more gun this year, you’re going to have to make do with
a plastic toy and a sign that
says ‘BANG’.”
“Hey, that last one wasn’t my fault! I think it
was abducted by aliens.”
“Yes, I believe you mentioned that in the report.
Suffice it to say, Skinner was not amused.”
He shrugged his shoulders and gave her his best
“well-what-can-you-do?” look. “Can I help
it if the sense of humor gene is located on the hair follicle?”
She closed her eyes briefly and shook her head,
trying to suppress a laugh. Sometimes it was
best not to encourage him.
“So anyway, Scully, what kind of stones are those?”
She was confused for a moment until she realized
he had returned to the subject of her bracelet.
“I’m not sure, Mulder, I forgot to ask. I’m sure
they’re nothing valuable. I only paid twenty dollars
for the thing. What’s your sudden fascination with my bracelet, anyway?”
His face a mask of innocence, he asked, “Whatever
do you mean, Agent Scully?”
“Out with it Mulder, what’s with the game of Twenty
Questions? I admit, I expected to be grilled
this morning, but on the subject of what happened yesterday, not...wait
a minute.” She gaped at him
incredulously as the realization struck her. “You can’t be serious!”
He pulled into the parking slot next to her car
and turned off the engine, his gaze level,
indicating that he was indeed serious.
“Were you wearing that bracelet when you went
to bed Thursday night, Scully?”
“Mulder, this is ridiculous. My bracelet has absolutely
nothing to do with…”
He cut her off. “Were you wearing it?”
“Yes, but that has nothing to do with anything.”
“It has everything to do with it, Scully. In all
the excitement, I forgot to mention something to
you yesterday. When I decided to wake you up in the car, I put my hand
on your wrist to make
you stop typing, and I encountered something unnaturally warm…almost
hot, actually. It surprised
me, and I jerked my hand back, and then looked to see what was causing
the heat. It was your
bracelet. The stones were glowing, Scully. I reached out and touched
one, and it was warm. I looked
back at the road for a second, and felt the stone grow cool under my
fingers, and when I looked again,
the glow was gone. Then a minute later, you woke up, and the rest is
history.”
“Come on Mulder, the glow and the heat could’ve
been caused by anything. We don’t know what
kind of stones these are…maybe they simply possess some extremely refractive
properties. And the
warmth could’ve been caused by exposure to sunlight.”
“Scully, it was nearly 7 o’clock in the evening.
The sun isn’t strong enough at that time of day to
cause the kind of heat I felt. And at first, I thought the glow was
probably a trick of the light too, but
I did some research last night…”
She groaned. “Oh Mulder…”
“No, hear me out.”
He had expected her reluctance, so continued undaunted.
“Scully, did you realize that nearly
every culture around the world has some sort of superstition or folklore
regarding owls, and that
many of them revolve around clairvoyance?”
She sighed. “No, Mulder, I didn’t know that.”
He ignored the patronizing tone and continued. “Well,
it’s true. It’s quite fascinating, actually.
The ancient Greeks believed that the owl has a magical “inner light”
that gives them night vision. Navaho
legend states that men listen to the voice of the owl to know their
future. The Ainu of Japan believe
that the Eagle owl is a messenger of the gods and that the Screech
owl warns against danger. In
southern India the number of cries heard by an owl is said to foretell
the future…one cry meaning
impending death, two meaning success in anything started soon after,
three meaning a woman would
soon be married into the family, etc. Many cultures believe that the
appearance or cry of an owl is
a sign of approaching death – the Poles, the ancient Romans, the Apache
Indians; they all have
some mention of this in their folklore. But the most interesting legend
I found, Scully, was the belief
held by the Algerians.”
“And just what do the Algerians believe, Mulder?”
“The Algerians believe, Scully, that if you place
the right eye of an Eagle owl in the hand of a
sleeping woman, she will tell all.”
“And?”
“What do you mean “and”? Scully! Look at your bracelet.
It has not one, but seven owls on
it. Seven owls in profile, with only the right eye visible. You have
had this bracelet in your possession
for two days now, during which time you have fallen asleep twice while
wearing it and both times
you have experienced a psychic event. If that’s not a case of the sleeping
woman telling all, then
I don’t know what is!”
“Mulder, I’ll admit it’s an interesting legend,
but that’s all it is. Folklore.”
He stared at her. Did it have to hit her over the
head? “What do you think caused it then?”
She broke his gaze to stare out the window. “I don’t
know. I’m still trying to come to grips
with the fact that it happened in the first place, you know?”
He continued to watch her, looking expectant.
“I’m sorry Mulder, I don’t believe I have psychic
jewelry. What more do you want
me to say?”
“Say you’ll come with me to that consignment shop
to talk to the owner. Maybe we
can get a little background information.”
He could see her gearing up to refuse, and quickly
continued.
“Humor me? Please?”
Scully knew that Mulder with a theory was like a
dog with a bone – once he sank his teeth into it,
there was no talking him out of it until he found another bone that
tasted better. Or in this case,
another theory.
She gave him directions to the consignment shop,
hoping that talking to the owner of the shop
would help him see how preposterous this particular theory was.
Second Chances Consignment Shop
District of Columbia
Saturday
11:50am
At the sound of the electronic chime announcing the
arrival of prospective customers,
Ruth Baxter looked up from the ledger she was working on and smiled
warmly at the two
agents. The sixty-something shopkeeper had shoulder-length gray hair
and sparkling green
eyes. Still quite a striking woman, Scully was sure that in her youth,
she must’ve been breathtaking.
“Good morning! You folks looking for anything in
particular?” The woman rose from her
stool and rounded the front of the counter, smoothing her dress as
she walked.
“I’ve just gotten in the most gorgeous matching
antique wedding bands…”
She halted mid-pitch at the strangled sounds coming
from Mulder. “Oh dear. Is he
alright?” She glanced at Scully for reassurance.
“I’m sure he’ll be fine. Sunflower seed go down
the wrong way, dear?” She smiled
sweetly at her partner who was finally regaining his composure.
“No snookums, just got a little choked up by my
overwhelming love for you,” he
answered, with a devilish gleam in his eye.
Scully glared at him before returning her attention
to the storekeeper. “Actually ma’am,
we’re not…um…I mean, we wanted to ask you some questions, if you don’t
mind.”
She withdrew her ID and flipped it open for the
woman’s inspection. “I’m Dana Scully
and this is my partner Fox Mulder. We’re with the FBI.”
Mulder presented his identification as well.
“The FBI! Oh dear. Have I done something wrong?”
She shifted her gaze between
the two agents, her eyes wide with worry.
“No ma’am, not at all. Like Agent Scully said, we
only want to ask you some questions.”
He grinned engagingly at her. “Do you own this store?”
“Yes sir. My name’s Ruth Baxter. I bought this place
about five years ago.”
“Well, you certainly have a nice selection here.
I’ve been in consignment shops before
that look more like thrift stores. This place is very elegant. I’m
seeing a lot of things that
look to be antiques. Do you get many antiques on consignment?”
“I get a few. Most of the antiques I have though,
I purchase myself through auctions or
estate sales. It’s kind of a hobby of mine to restore old furniture…give
it a ‘second chance’
if you will. Then I bring it in here and sell it. I’d say roughly half
of my inventory is consignment
and the other half consists of the treasures I’ve rescued and restored.”
She indicated an antique highchair nearby. “This
is my latest addition. It was in pretty bad
shape when I found it, but I think it turned out rather nicely.”
Mulder moved in for a closer look. “You did this
yourself?” She nodded shyly at his
incredulous tone.
“Amazing,” he said. “You do exquisite work, Ms.
Baxter.”
The woman was blushing, actually blushing under
Mulder’s praise. Scully was certain the
poor woman was going to melt into a puddle at their feet any minute
now. She decided it was
time to move this investigation forward, so that Mulder would recognize
the futility of it, and
go fix her door.
“Ms. Baxter, I was in here a couple of days ago.
Do you remember me?”
The woman studied the agent for several seconds
before exclaiming, “I thought you looked
familiar! You bought that pretty little owl bracelet, right? Is something
wrong with it? Did you
change your mind about it?”
“Oh no, not at all. I like it just fine. We were
just hoping to get a little background
information about it. Was that a piece you bought yourself, or was
it on consignment for
someone?”
“It was on consignment. In fact, I just mailed the
check out yesterday.” Her mouth
dropped open as a thought occurred to her. “Oh my, it wasn’t stolen,
was it? I mean,
she was a little…eccentric…but she seemed nice enough.”
“What do you mean by ‘eccentric’? What did she say?
How did she act?” Mulder’s
interest was piqued.
“Well, she just seemed a little odd, that’s all.
She came rushing into the shop, muttering
to herself about how unreliable the city bus system is, and that she
hoped she wasn’t too
late. Then she just stopped, and got this look on her face as if she
were concentrating really
hard on something. After about 30 seconds of this, I came forward and
asked her if she was
all right, if she needed any help with anything. She gave me a huge
smile and said that she was
just fine, that she wasn’t too late after all, and told me that she
had a bracelet she’d like me to
sell for her.”
“What did she mean by that? That she wasn’t too
late after all? Did you have an appointment?”
Ruth shook her head. “That’s what was so strange.
We didn’t have an appointment. In fact I
had never spoken to this woman before in my life. And she couldn’t
have been afraid that the
store would be closing, because it was only just lunchtime.”
That last word echoed in Mulder’s mind, and he wondered
at its significance. Lunchtime.
He thought for a moment, his mind replaying his conversation with Scully
in the car, until the
connection came to him.
“Ms. Baxter, do you remember what day that bracelet
was brought in here?”
“Why yes, of course. It was early Thursday afternoon.
I remember because it was the
fastest turn around I think I’ve ever gotten on an item.” She smiled
at Scully.
“I put that bracelet in the display window about
ten minutes after I received it, and five
minutes later, you came in and bought it.”
“Yeah Scully, it was meant for you, remember?” Mulder
grinned at his partner, and she
could practically see his fangs sink deeper into the bone, relishing
the flavor. He wasn’t letting
go of this one anytime soon.
She was also pretty sure of where they would be
going next.
Mulder didn’t disappoint her. “Would you happen
to have the woman’s name and address,
Ms. Baxter? We really need to speak with her.”
At the woman’s hesitance, Scully spoke up. “Ma’am,
you’re not in any trouble here. There’s
no evidence that the bracelet might have been stolen. We really just
want to talk to the previous
owner.”
Visibly relaxing, Ruth walked behind the counter
and found the proper entry in her records. As
she wrote down the information, she remarked, “You’ve got a bit of
a drive ahead of you.”
Scully moved over to the counter. “What do you mean?
Where does she live?”
“Her name is Dorothy Williams, and she lives in
Towson, Maryland. I remember remarking on
the fact that certainly there must be some nice consignment shops up
in Baltimore that would’ve
been much closer to her home, and her answer was rather cryptic. She
said, ‘Yes, but none of
them are next door to this dry cleaner.’”
Mulder took the paper from her. “Thank you very
much, Ms. Baxter. You’ve been extremely
helpful. You ready, Scully?”
Ruth smiled at the two agents and followed them
to the door. “If you have any other questions,
you know where to reach me.”
Mulder turned back to her. “Actually, there is one
more thing. Do you happen to know what
kind of stones these are?”
He indicated the bracelet on Scully’s wrist, which
she promptly held up for inspection.
“Oh yes, those are moonstones.”
She addressed the female agent. “You know, you really
got a great deal on that bracelet. The
silver alone is worth the twenty dollars that you paid. When you factor
in the moonstones, it’s worth
three times that much.”
“Then why did you only charge me twenty dollars?”
“Well, when I sell something on consignment, the
actual seller of the item determines the price.
If they’re not sure of what to ask, I help them out with it, but the
final decision is up to them. I actually
suggested that she charge fifty dollars for it, but she was adamant.
She said something strange like ‘No,
she would never spend that much on such a frivolous thing for herself.
She’s much too practical for
that.’ It was almost as if she thought she knew who was going to buy
it.” Ruth laughed to herself.
“Maybe she knew you were coming,” she joked. “She
made me promise that I’d put the
bracelet in the window as soon as she left.”
If Scully had held out any hopes of Mulder abandoning
his theory about her bracelet, she
knew now that it just wasn’t going to happen. She could see the wheels
turning in his head as
he factored in the information given to them by the storekeeper, and
it only served to brighten
the gleam in his eye.
They both thanked the woman for her time and turned
once again to leave the shop. Scully
felt Mulder’s hand on the small of her back as he guided her through
the door.
“Hey Scully, did you know that moonstones are frequently
used in meditation and are
believed to facilitate clairvoyance?”
She sighed. It was going to be a long afternoon.
Dorothy Williams’ residence
Towson, Maryland
Saturday
2:00pm
Scully’s knock was answered by a woman in her fifties
wearing a black suit. She looked
as if she’d recently been crying.
“Yes? Can I help you?”
“Ma’am I’m Agent Mulder and this is Agent Scully,
we’re with the Federal Bureau of
Investigation. Are you Dorothy Williams?”
Sadness filled her brown eyes and she blinked rapidly
several times to hold back the
tears that suddenly threatened. “No sir, I’m her sister, Katherine
Brown. Dorothy moved
in here with me a few years ago after she lost her husband. Is there
some kind of trouble?”
“We’re not on an official investigation. We just
wanted to ask her a couple of questions.
Is she here?”
“No, she’s…my sister passed away early yesterday
morning. She had a…a ruptured aneurysm.”
Her voice broke on the last word and a few stray
tears escaped before she regained control
of her emotions. “I’m sorry. It was just so sudden. I’m still in shock,
I think.”
“You have nothing to be sorry for. We’re the ones
intruding here.” Scully reached out with
her left hand and gave the grieving woman’s arm a sympathetic squeeze.
“We’re very sorry for
your loss, Ms. Brown.”
“Come on Mulder, let’s go.”
Scully turned to her partner, and missed the way
the woman’s eyes widened at the sight of
the bracelet on her wrist.
“Did you say your name was Scully? Dana Scully?”
Scully was confused. “Yes, it is. How did you know
my first name? I don’t remember either
of us mentioning it.”
She shot a questioning glance at her partner, who
shook his head. Both looked to the woman
with curiosity.
“I have something for you. From my sister. Just
a moment.”
She disappeared into the house, only to return seconds
later with an envelope in her hand, which
she gave to Scully. The name “Dana Scully” was written on the front
in precise handwriting.
Scully looked from her partner to Katherine, perplexed.
“I don’t understand. How did your sister
know that I would come here? I’ve never met her.”
“My sister knew a lot of things.” Katherine smiled
sadly. “That bracelet you’re wearing was a
gift from our maternal grandmother. She was a phenomenal woman and
we were very close to her
despite our geographical distances. She was born in Algeria, and lived
her entire life there, so we
only got to see her a handful of times, whenever our parents could
save up the money for us all to
vacation there. Only one time in my life can I ever remember her making
the trip here. On my
sister’s sixteenth birthday, she came to visit and presented my sister
with that bracelet. She said
that it had to be done in person, so that she could be certain that
Dorothy understood the importance
of the gift. My grandmother could see things, you see, and very soon
after receiving that bracelet,
so could my sister. That visit was the last one we ever had with our
grandmother.”
Mulder was clearly entranced by the tale. “When
did she die?”
“Two days after she returned to Algeria. She went
to bed that night, and never woke up.”
“Do you think she knew she was going to die? That
she came here to pass on her gift before
that happened?”
“I think it’s possible, yes. I know that’s what
my sister believed.” She smiled kindly at Scully.
“And now she’s passed it on to you, dear. I can
see in your eyes that you don’t believe any
of this. That’s all right. I didn’t believe my sister at first, either.”
Scully moved to unfasten the bracelet from her wrist.
“All I know is, if this is some kind of family
heirloom, then you should have it back.”
She was stopped by Katherine’s hand over her own.
“No dear, my sister wanted you to have it.
I’m sure she had good reasons for that. Read her letter. Maybe it will
help you to understand.”
She excused herself, telling the agents that she
had many preparations to take care of before the
funeral the next day. As she turned to reenter the house, Mulder stopped
her.
“I’m sorry Ms. Brown, I just have one more question.
What time yesterday morning did
your sister die?”
“She woke me up at 2:30 in the morning telling me
that her stomach hurt. She was trying
not to frighten me, but I could tell she was in serious pain. I called
an ambulance, but it was
too late. She was pronounced dead at 3:15am Friday morning.”
Dana Scully’s apartment
Saturday
4:30pm
Mulder stepped back a few paces from the door and
admired his handiwork. Rather than
installing another chain, he had opted for the slightly more secure
solid bar version that they
saw in so many of the hotels and motels they stayed in. Flush against
the door, it would be a
little more difficult to rip from the frame, and the bar itself would
be much harder to cut
through than the thin chain links.
He wasn’t deluding himself that it would provide
any sort of protection against the more
determined intruders. Like professional car thieves who could bypass
whatever you threw
at them and steal your car within thirty seconds, there were individuals
out there who knew
their way around every home security measure known to man and would
find a simple door
chain laughable. Scully was as aware of this fact as he, Mulder was
certain. It just made her
feel better to know it was there, although never in a million years
would she admit that to him.
Satisfied that the door would meet with his partner’s
approval, Mulder sat down at the
dining room table and took a long swallow of the iced tea Scully had
poured for him before
going to get ready for dinner with her mother. As he returned the glass
to the table, his eyes
fell on the letter. After reading through it once herself, she
had read it aloud to him in the car
as he drove, but he took the opportunity now to see with his own eyes
the written words that
took the coincidental incidents of the last two days and made them
seem no longer quite so
happenstance.
******
May 25, 2000
Dear Miss Scully,
First off, let me apologize for all the subterfuge
in getting the bracelet to you.
If I thought that you would have accepted it, I would have brought
it to you
directly, but we both know you would have dismissed me as a crazy
old woman
had I come to you spouting a story about a bracelet that holds powers
of
clairvoyance. By now, you have witnessed this phenomenon yourself
not once,
but twice, and yet you still doubt the truth. I can only hope that
when the time
comes, you will be able to overcome your doubts, or at least put
them aside as
you did yesterday with that evil man. If not, I fear that someone
you care about
very much won’t turn out to be as lucky as little Katie Harris.
I know you have many questions, and unfortunately
I don’t have enough time
left to answer them all. I know that by the time you read this letter
I will be gone,
although it is not for me to know how this will happen. All that
I can tell you is that
I dreamed of you, and that you are meant to be the next owner of
the bracelet.
That is how it works, you see. In your dreams. In the beginning,
what you see in
your sleep will only come to you in bits and pieces, broken fragments
of a forgotten
dream. Eventually you learn to bring the knowledge back with you
to the waking
world. I have spent my life trying to use this knowledge to help
others whenever I
could, and I sense that it will be the same with you.
There is a darkness on your horizon, Dana, and
someone you love will be lost to you.
I can only pray that when the wolf comes to call, you remember that
there is a way to
find the answers you seek.
I must go now, I have a bus to catch…
Dorothy Williams
******
Mulder finished reading just as his partner reentered
the room, her red hair still slightly
damp from her recent shower. She ignored the letter in his hand and
moved past him to
the door, opening and closing it a few times to test out the new hardware.
“Wow Mulder, this looks good. If you ever get sick
of the FBI, you can always get
yourself a job as a carpenter.” When he failed to respond, she turned
to look at him, the
grin fading slowly from her face as he regarded her silently.
“What?” She was beginning to feel self-conscious
under his intense scrutiny.
His eyes traveled slowly over her slight form, taking
in the simple gold studs in her ears,
the ever-present cross at her throat, her casual, white, short-sleeved
sweater, black jeans,
and black low-heeled boots before stopping to rest pointedly on her
wrist. Her bare wrist.
“Where’s your bracelet, Scully?” His tone was calm,
conversational, but when she looked
him in the eye, she could see the disappointment there. It immediately
put her on the defensive.
“I took it off,” she answered succinctly.
“I can see that. Why’d you take it off?”
There was only a slight hesitation before she replied.
“I haven’t had time to get the
clasp fixed yet. I don’t want to lose it.”
“Bullshit.”
She blinked in surprise at his comment. Mulder rarely
used profanity unless he was
seriously angry about something.
“Excuse me?”
“Bullshit, Scully. That loose clasp has nothing
to do with the reason you aren’t wearing
the bracelet. Not one damn thing.”
No longer making any attempts to hide his exasperation,
he stared at her, eyes flashing,
daring her to refute his statement. The staredown continued for a moment,
until Scully looked
away.
“Look Mulder, I don’t know what you’re talking about.
I’m late for my mother’s.” She picked
her purse and keys up from the table and headed back toward the door.
“That’s right, Scully. Do what you do best. Just
pretend it’s not there, and maybe it will
go away. I thought you said you believed this time.”
She stopped in her tracks halfway to the door and
whirled to face him. His anger was
infectious, causing her own ire to stir.
“Yes, I said I believed that somehow I knew things
about that man Gallant that I had
no way of knowing. But do I believe that my bracelet told me? No, Mulder,
I don’t!”
She was shouting now. “There is absolutely no evidence
to support that insane theory. It’s
ludicrous!”
Mulder was ready to throttle her. “How much more
evidence do you need, Scully? You
have had two psychic episodes in the two days that you’ve owned that
bracelet. I personally
saw the thing light up like a Christmas tree while you were in the
middle of the second such
episode. And now, we have right here a letter written specifically
to you by the previous
owner of the bracelet, a woman whom you have never met before I might
add, and in this
letter she speaks of things that didn’t even happen until after she
had died of a ruptured
aneurysm! What more do you need, Scully?”
He noted the way she stood, arms crossed stiffly
in front of her, jaw clenched, refusing
to meet his eyes, and thought to himself that something wasn’t adding
up. Scully usually held
her end of an argument in the same way she did everything else – honestly
and directly. She
had no qualms about looking you dead in the face while she filled you
in on exactly how
wrong you were. The fact that she couldn’t bring herself to make eye
contact with him now
was very telling.
“You want to know what I think, Scully?” The look
she gave, when she finally looked at
him, was pure belligerence. It told him that no, she really didn’t
want to hear his thoughts on
the matter, but at the same time, was resigned to the fact that he
would tell her regardless. A
typical Scully defense mechanism. In fact, Mulder was now certain that
her entire angry
outburst was nothing more than a front for her to hide behind.
“I think that you’re afraid to believe. You know
that your bracelet is the cause, but if you
admit that to yourself or to me, then you’d be forced to acknowledge
that there is no scientific
explanation for it. And for some reason, that scares the hell out of
you, doesn’t it?”
There was a brief flash of surprise in her eyes
that let him know he’d hit the nail on the head
before she covered it with a glare. “It’s a superstition, Mulder. You’re
basing all of this on some
old Algerian folk legend and the words of a dead woman. It doesn’t
prove anything.”
Her words this time were quiet, almost hesitant,
and he wondered which one of them she
was trying to convince.
“What is it that you’re so afraid of, Scully?” His
voice was gentler now, all the anger
having drained out of him upon the realization of her fear.
She looked at him for a long moment, trying to think
of a satisfactory answer. How
could she be expected to tell him what she was afraid of, when she
didn’t know herself?
All she knew was the feeling of dread that had come over her when she
read the letter and
that feeling had yet to completely fade. She gave him the most honest
response she could
think of. “I don’t know,” she whispered.
Well, at least she wasn’t denying it, which was
something. Mulder knew that her fear,
whatever it was based on, was something she would have to deal with
herself. He couldn’t
snap his fingers and magically make her get over it. He handed her
the letter and turned to go.
“Tell your mom I said hello,” he said quietly, and
closed the door behind him.
End Chapter Four
On to Chapter Five...
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