"Yes, I'm wonderful. I throw up all the time." Beth Locke was
sitting on the edge of the bathtub in her brother's bathroom. My brother.
I'm never going to get used to that.
Fox Mulder peeked around the corner. She looked pale, and slightly
embarrassed. "Sorry, I just didn't think it was that bad."
She stared at him. "You've got to be kidding me! It was awful.
She called me Samantha all afternoon!" She rubbed a wet towel over her
face. Alex Krycek came in, stepping around his lover. He took Beth's
hand, an arm around her waist to steady her, and led her out to the
living room. A pot of tea was on the coffee table. Mulder followed them
slowly.
"And you know that she doesn't believe that it's me!" Her
shoulders slumped. "I'm not even mad at her. I'm just mad in general."
They had visited Sarah Mulder that afternoon, the first chance that
she had to see her long-lost daughter. It had not gone well. Despite the
fact that she called Beth by her daughter's name, it was obvious to all
that she didn't really believe that it was her. She had told her son as
much when they were alone in the kitchen.
Everything after that was polite, but strained. Beth had stayed
as long as she could stand, then excused herself. Her brother came out to
find her in the car, shaking. She wanted him to drive her back to her
hotel, but he insisted on bringing her home with him. He was glad that he
did. She had barely made it in to the apartment before she rushed to the
bathroom.
Alex was rubbing her shoulders sympathetically. "I'm glad you
didn't say 'I told you so'," she said to him.
Mulder envied the connection that his lover and sister had managed
to forge. They had spent a lot of time together when she first arrived,
and had continued to be close. Alex had just started his new job this
past week, and they had lunch together two or three times a week.
"'I told you so'?" Mulder asked.
"I warned her that it might be difficult with your mother," Alex
explained. If anyone, he should know. Sarah Mulder had not accepted
her son's lover with open arms. She refused to see him if at all possible.
Mulder sighed. "We've just got to give her some time. She'll come
around when she sees the evidence—"
Beth snorted. "Yeah, that worked really well with the Simpson
jury, didn't it?" She managed a smile. "We really are all related,
aren't we? We're all pig-headed, stubborn, and single-minded. Talk about
a case for genetics."
Alex laughed. "Why do you think we get along so well? I've had
months of practice."
"You should stay here tonight."
"I don't want to impose. You don't need to babysit me."
"Don't be silly," Alex said. "That's a great idea. We actually
have room now, so stay. We'll get something greasy for dinner."
"How could I refuse an invitation like that?"
The apartment that Alex and Mulder had moved into was a big improvement on
Mulder's old place. They had discussed moving into Alex's place, but it
held too many bad memories for him, so they decided to get a fresh start.
It had taken them over a month to find something they both liked.
They had three bedrooms, high ceilings, a fair-sized kitchen
(although neither of them cooked much), and a huge living room. They
splurged on new beds, a big-screen tv, and some tasteful framed posters
for the walls. It was bigger and brighter than Mulder's old place, but
masculine and comfortable. And, most of the fish had survived the move.
Alex offered to go out to get italian and a couple of movies.
He also wanted to give them a little time together.
Beth was staring at Mulder.
"What?"
"Alex told me that I look like you. I'm trying to figure it out."
"Don't you need a mirror for that?"
She smiled. "It would probably help. Do you think any of us
really have any idea what we look like?"
"What do you mean?"
"Well, in my mind I'm at least ten pounds lighter, two inches
taller, and five years younger than I really am."
He shook his head at her. "I've never considered that."
"Must be a girl thing."
"Well, personally, I think you're a lot prettier than I am."
"I don't know. Alex thinks you're pretty."
He looked at her. "He said that?"
She backpedaled. "Maybe
not those exact words—"
"I'm going to kill him."
"Uh-oh." She sidled over to him. "Please don't tell him I told
you. I need all the allies I can get."
He took her hand. "You've got me, you know," he said, soberly.
She looked at him. "I know," she replied quietly. "I'm sorry I
was such a bitch before. I get mean and sarcastic when I'm upset. I
tend to open my mouth too much."
"I think it's a good thing. I have a problem with not opening it
enough, or at least when I should."
She gave him a look, then shook her head.
"What?" he asked.
"Don't you wonder how we would have turned out if Samantha hadn't
disappeared?"
"All the time."
She sighed. "And we'll never know what happened, or why."
"I don't know." She looked curiously at him. "I'm still looking
for some answers." He shrugged. Beth looked a little disturbed. "What?"
"Just thinking about something Dana told me."
"Which was?"
"She thought that you wanted answers about Samantha more than you
wanted her."
He looked a little stunned. "She said that?"
She nodded. "She tried not to, but it came out. That's pretty
much what I thought, too."
"It's not true. Well, not entirely true." He tried to find the
words. "I wanted to know what happened, and I may have fixated on that
a little." He snorted. "I know I fixated on that a lot. It kept me
going sometimes through things that should have stopped me. But just
because I'm still looking doesn't mean that I'm not glad that you're here,
and that you're all right. I don't want it to have to come down to a
choice."
"I don't blame you for any of this, you know."
"I know."
"Do you? Did your parents?"
"No. I don't think so. Maybe unconsciously, my mother," he said.
"I don't know."
"And you've been doing this for twenty years. I can't imagine. I
certainly wouldn't stop you from trying to find your answers." She looked
at him wryly. "And, if you're anything at all like me, you wouldn't let
that stop you even if I did."
"Poor Alex."
"What?"
"There's two of us."
Alex drove around a little before heading back to the apartment. The two
stops he had to make were a lot quicker than he anticipated. He hoped it
wouldn't be too obvious that he had killed some time on the way back. He
touched the food on the seat. Still hot.
He despaired of Mulder and his sister ever being able to find some
common ground. Beth was great, but she was exactly what she said—stubborn
and opinionated and single-minded, in a completely different way than the
man he loved. She said what was on her mind most of the time, whereas he
had to pull teeth sometimes to get Mulder to talk to him at all. He could
see Mulder searching desperately for the sister that he had lost, a little
girl with pigtails.
Still, he had to give the man credit. His entire world had turned
around in a matter of months—from confusion and disaster, stumbling blocks
at every turn, to having almost everything that he had ever looked for, and
then some. Alex had known for a while that their relationship was possibly
the least problematic thing that Mulder had going for him.
And yet, it was the little things—like Sarah Mulder. It wasn't
as if Mulder could turn his mother around single-handedly, but to help her
a little, insist that Alex be included in some things, would help.
He shook his head and turned down their street. One thing at a
time, one day at a time. There's got to be a twelve-step group for lovers
of stubborn FBI agents.
"I love you."
It was three am. After a long night of greasy food and bad horror
movies, they had finally all drifted off to bed, Beth discreetly taking
the far bedroom from theirs. She borrowed a pair of pjs from Alex,
eschewing the bottoms for the oversized top.
Mulder was holding Alex, running his fingers through his hair.
Alex looked up at him. "I love you, too."
"You hardly ever say that."
"Don't I?"
"Uh-unh. You usually say, 'I know.' I just took that to mean the
same thing."
"Well, it does, but I'm sorry. I'll remember that."
"I kind of liked it, actually. I know you love me." Alex smiled
at him. Mulder was rubbing his neck, now. He was silent for a moment,
before asking, low, "Who hurt you?" Alex stiffened. Mulder felt it and
kept rubbing his neck, slipping his fingers down to his shoulders and up
again. "I mean, I know—me, and the job, and everything like that. I
meant before."
"You didn't hurt me—"
"No dodging the question. You know more about me than I do about
you. You can hardly have had a normal childhood to end up where you did."
Alex was quiet, thinking. He could feel Mulder's fingers touching
him, reassuring him, loving him. He wanted to tell him everything, but
sometimes there's just too much to say, and no way to start.
"I don't know what I can tell you. I want to, I want to tell you
the whole story of who I am, but I don't know what's important. What can
I say that will tell you what you want to know? Immigrant parents, my
father died when I was ten, my mother—" he stopped, searching for words.
"I always got the feeling that my mother didn't like me. She loved me,
she took care of me before and after my father died. But she didn't ever
tell me—that I mattered. Does that make any sense?"
"Yes." Pause. "Did she tell you that she loved you?"
"Every day. It just never seemed like more than a string of words,
somehow. She meant it, and she wasn't cruel—she just didn't care, I
guess." He sighed. "It was hard for her—hard to find work, and feed
us sometimes, and get me to school. She just didn't have enough time left
to coddle me."
"Making your child feel loved isn't coddling. Even when I was
young, and after Samantha was gone, I never had the feeling that my parents
didn't care about me. Even when I didn't care about me, I knew they did.
I felt it too much, sometimes, but it was always there." He kissed Alex.
"I mean it when I say it, you know."
"I know."
Mulder smiled. "That's better."
The scream woke both of them out of a sound sleep. Mulder was up, gun in
hand, in an instant. Alex followed him, with Mulder's second gun.
They found Beth huddled in middle of bed, shaking. She took one
look at their artillery, and put her hands up. "Remind me never to have
a bad dream at your place again," she said, with half a smile.
Mulder put his gun on the nighttable, and sat down beside her.
"What happened?"
She shook her head. "I don't know. Just a dream. Probably
indigestion."
He looked at her skeptically.
"Okay, okay. I had a nightmare. No big deal. Probably a combo\
of too much food and really bad movies."
"Do you remember what it was about?"
"Nope." She said that much too fast. He and Alex looked at each
other, then Alex made for the door. "I'll make some tea," he said.
"You don't have to," she started, but he was gone by then. "I
don't remember," she said to Mulder.
He nodded at her. "We should start a support group."
She looked at him curiously.
"We all have nightmares," he explained. "Although Alex and I have
been pretty good lately, you never can tell what will bring them on. Have
you been having them a lot?"
"No. Just lately. I think it's seeing all the pictures, hearing
the stories. It's a little eerie."
"Do you think you may be remembering?" he asked, trying not to
sound too eager.
"I don't know. I don't think so. Will I be able to tell, though?
Maybe I'm just dreaming about things that you've told me."
"I couldn't tell you everything. It's possible that the stories
that you're hearing are triggering memories of your own. If you remember
something that I haven't told you—"
Alex came back to the room. "We're all out. Would Yoo-Hoo do?"
Beth laughed. "It's okay. I think I'm fine, now."
"You sure?" Mulder asked.
"Yeah. Hell, I should sleep wonderfully now, knowing there's two
well-armed men prepared to defend me." As they were leaving, she called
out, "Oh, and don't worry. If I hear a yell from your room, I won't come
running."
Mulder yelled back, "Brat."
They could hear her giggling.
The next morning, they woke as usual, tangled up in each other. It was
Sunday, a lazy time for them, a rare morning they weren't rushing to get
to work, when they were both actually in the same city. Mulder's work
with the X-Files was taking him less and less out of town, but with Dana
planning to leave the department for Quantico after her wedding, Alex had
a feeling it would only get worse.
They were kissing when they heard the phone ring. Before either
of them could get it, it was answered. "Got it," Beth called from the
living room.
There was silence for five more minutes, then a knock at the door.
"Are you guys decent?"
"That's a loaded question," Alex muttered.
"I heard that."
"Yes, we are, come in," Mulder said, snuggling up to Alex.
Beth strode in. She was showered and dressed, and looked more
refreshed than she should have after the late night. She perched on the
edge of their bed.
"That was Dana. She wants me to meet her for brunch with her
mother to talk wedding plans. Apparently Mrs. Scully won't let her get
away with as much of a shotgun wedding as she'd hoped."
"Poor Scully," Mulder mused. "Thank god Mom didn't say the same
about us."
Alex punched him. "Yeah, but you'd've looked great in the dress."
"Me? You have the figure for it."
"Hey—"
"Boys, boys, really," Beth raised a hand. "I'm out of here. I
made coffee, if either of you are planning on surfacing this morning."
"How are you getting back to the hotel?"
"Called a cab. It should be here soon. I'll call you later on
and let you know if Dana survived."
"Give her our sympathy."
After she had left, Alex turned to Mulder. "What were we doing?"
"I don't remember. You have any ideas?"
"Not one. I suppose we could get up."
"Hm. I've got some files I need to read over for the morning, and
a report to finish. You?"
"We need food. And the drycleaning should be done by today."
Mulder kissed him, passionately. "We could stay home and have
sex," he said, nibbling on an earlobe.
Alex pretended to think this over. "We could," he said, letting
out a moan.
"Well, then?"
"Oh, hell," he said, climbing on top of Mulder and locking their
hands together. "Who needs food?"
Beth spotted Dana and her mother sitting in the glassed-in patio section
of the restaurant they had chosen. "Sorry I'm late," she apologized. "I
have got to get a car."
"We've only been here ten minutes," Dana said. "Mom, this is Beth
Locke. Beth, my mom."
"Nice to meet you, Mrs. Scully."
"Please call me Margaret," the older woman said. "I hope you can
help me talk some sense into my daughter."
"Mom—"
"Dana, I don't know how you expect to put together a wedding in two
weeks. Don't you agree, Beth?"
"I'm afraid I'm the wrong one to ask. I eloped." She shrugged.
"It wasn't fancy, but it got the job done."
"See?" Dana said. "I'm not eloping, I just want something small.
I'll get a dress, and have some flowers, but no church."
"And you're adamant about that."
"I'm afraid so, mom. Walter's not even Catholic. A civil service
will be easier all the way around." She patted her mother's hand. "Maybe
later we can talk about some sort of church service. But right now, we
just want to get married and get on with our life together."
Her mother nodded. "It's your decision, Dana. I'm just glad that
you've found someone to be with."
She had been worried about her daughter for a while now. Even over
the phone she could tell that she wasn't happy with her work, and her life
was at somewhat loose ends ever since she and Fox had cracked open the
government conspiracy. She had hopes that the two of them might realize
their attraction to each other, but that had dashed away once Fox had
become involved with Alex Krycek. Still, Walter Skinner was an extremely
nice man, even if he did take a while to warm up to. And she had no doubt
that her daughter would be happy. Best of all, she was going to be out of
the firing line—a good teaching job at Quantico. All around, the wedding
would prove to be a good thing.
"Well, if you're sure, I guess we can look at these to get an idea
of what sort of dress you want."
"Oh mom, not bridal magazines."
"You have to read these," Beth laughed. "Even I read them, and
I got married in jeans." She started flipping through the pages. "Look—'How to Make Your Wedding Night a Success.'"
Dana groaned. "Waiter," she raised an arm. "I need a drink."
Alex writhed in the bed, head thrown back, digging his hands into the
mattress. "Please," he cried out.
Mulder was torturing him. He would actually die, he was sure,
before he was allowed to come.
"Mulder, please," his voice was getting more shallow, the tone more
desperate. He was again brought to the edge, and again denied any release.
The mouth on him would move away, suckling at his thighs, up his stomach,
before coming to rest once again on his straining erection. Finally, he
could take no more. He grabbed Mulder by the arms and pulled him up to
attach their mouths together. Rubbing himself against Mulder's hip, he
came desperately hard.
When he could catch his breath, he opened his eyes to see Mulder
looking at him with amusement.
"Better?" he asked.
"You," Alex was panting, "you are a cruel man, Fox Mulder."
"Ah, you see," he said, kissing him. "I said I was fair, and I
said I was honest, but I never said I wasn't cruel. Besides, you have
no idea how beautiful you are when you're out of your mind with passion."
"So the next time we'll take a picture."
"You didn't enjoy it?" This was said with mock-hurt.
"Oh, I enjoyed it." He pushed Mulder over, slid their bodies
together, and suckled at his neck. "I just have to try harder now, that's
all. It's going to take me a while to think up something as good to do to
you."
"I can't wait."
"With any luck, you won't have to."
The three of them spent most of the rest of the day in a bridal shop,
Dana trying on progressively more and more elaborate wedding outfits, her
mother critiquing, and Beth attempting to referee. Dana had started out
with a simple cream-coloured Armani suit.
"You're not wearing white?"
Beth bit her lip to smother her smile, and looked politely away.
She knew if she caught Dana's eye, they'd both be done for.
"Mom, I don't think Armani makes a white suit."
"Well, why does it have to be a suit? You look—normal, for you.
Couldn't you try something a little dressier?"
"Mom—" she sighed. "Okay. Find me something with a skirt, then."
She had absolutely drawn the line when it came to veils, and hats
always made her face too round. Beth suggested a simple opal barrette to
hold some of her hair off her face. After going through several outfits,
they finally all agreed on a three-quarter length dress, cream-coloured,
very slim, in silk with a matching jacket. She managed to find some shoes
that didn't have to be dyed. She settled in a chair, exhausted.
"Now for you two."
"I have some perfectly nice dresses that I could wear," Beth
protested.
"Yes, dear, it doesn't matter what we wear. The attention is all
going to be on you."
"Oh, no, if I'm trying on dresses, you're trying on dresses. Now
start!"
They looked at each other and headed for the racks.
There was a message for Beth at the hotel when she got back at six.
"Hey, did the three of you get kidnapped by a deranged wedding
planner?" There was a little too much glee evident in her brother's voice.
"It's five-thirty, and Alex and I are heading for Milano's. Join us if
you manage to get away in one piece."
"That's it," she said, slipping off her heels and rummaging in her
closet for a pair of clean jeans. "I have definitely got to get a car."
Milano's was a boisterous sports bar, featuring cheap pitchers of beer and
an enthusiastic crowd on Sunday nights. Beth found her brother and his
lover at a table, cheering on the basketball game being broadcast on
several tvs in the place. She snagged a mug off the bar and sat down.
"Who's winning?"
"We are, of course," Alex said. "We always win."
"Ah, and which team would that be?"
"Whoever wins," Mulder smiled. "We always back the winner."
"Smart choice."
"So, how did your day go? Is Scully still in one piece?"
"Thankfully, yes." She grabbed a couple of bowls of peanuts off
the bar. "She and her mother managed to reach a detente over the dress.
We are all suitably attired, all we have to do is get the alterations done
in time."
"I suppose we should talk to Skinner about what he wants us to wear."
"I cannot believe how lucky you guys are! Go out, rent a tux, get
some shoes, and you're all done. That'll take what, an hour? There should
be places that rent out women's clothes."
"Hungry?" Alex asked. She had demolished one bowl of peanuts, and
started on another.
"Yup. I ate light for breakfast, so I could be skinny to try on
clothes. I'm starving."
"If you keep eating like that, they're going to have to alter your
dress ten times before the ceremony."
"Waiter!" she deftly stopped one in passing. "Two orders of suicide
wings, and another pitcher. It's on them," she indicated the men.
"Suicide wings?"
"Oh, Alex, you haven't lived until you've tried suicide wings."
"What are your plans for tomorrow?" Alex asked her, after they'd eaten.
"Well, I'm definitely going to rent a car, first of everything.
I hate having to wait for cabs all the time. And, tomorrow afternoon, I
get to go to Immigration."
"I'd forgotten all about that. Do you want me to go with you?"
Mulder asked.
"No. I'm expecting an exercise in futility. I'll probably be sent
back and forth through dozens of different departments trying to figure out
the mess of my citizenship. You'd think it would be simple, wouldn't you?
I'm American by birth, lived here for ten years, then went to Canada for
twelve years and married a Canadian. I should have dual citizenship.
Except that I've got a Canadian Social Insurance number, and a passport
that says I'm Canadian. And I've been paying taxes there for twelve years."
"I don't envy you."
"I don't envy me, either. I've gathered together all the records
that I could find, and I'm just going to have to let them tell me what to
do. I'm just hoping that they don't kick my butt out of the country."
"If they try anything, I have one or two contacts in high places
that I could call upon to smooth things out for you."
"Oh, good. I may need you to contact them for me, if the going
gets rough."
"Consider it done."
She looked around. "Have you considered where you're taking Walter
for the bachelor party?"
"Bachelor party?" Mulder asked.
"You're the best man, it's your responsibility." A wicked gleam
came into her eyes. "I've heard they do a nice strip show at Bottleneck,"
she said, before taking a sip of her beer.
Her brother glared at her, while Alex tried not to laugh.
Bottleneck was a popular underground gay bar, with all-male strippers
three nights a week. "Somehow, I don't think that Skinner would consider
that to be a suitable venue for the end of his bachelorhood."
"You never know," she said, demurely.
"You'd probably have a better chance of getting Dana there."
Alex was laughing now.
"They don't let women in, silly." She sighed. "The level of
discrimination is shocking, don't you think?"
"And you've been there and tried to get in?" Mulder was getting
more interested in this conversation.
"I—I—I think I've got to powder my nose." She made a beeline
for the ladies' room.
"Did you take her there?" he demanded of Alex.
"I'm not getting in the middle of this. We haven't spent every
night with her, you know. She's probably been out on her own."
"It sounds like she knows D.C. better than we do."
"Speak for yourself. I just never thought you were particularly
the gay bar type."
"And you are?"
"Well, I used to go out once in a while. But that was different,
Mulder. I've been gay my whole life, pretty much. It's where you meet
people."
"Do you miss it?"
"The meat market? Hell, no. It was mostly pickups, you know.
Nothing serious. And if I never have to do it again, I'll be happy."
Beth came back from the bathroom. "So, are we done here?"
Mulder raised an eyebrow at her. "I guess so. We really should
get home."
"Me, too. I've got a busy day."
"I'll call you tomorrow night. Let me know if you have any
problems before then."
"Cool." She bent to kiss both of them goodbye. "See you tomorrow."
Mulder was quiet on the drive home.
"What?" Alex finally asked.
"I don't know. I'm worried about her."
"The nightmare."
He nodded. "That, and different things. She's handling everything
a little too well, don't you think? I'm worried that she's going to crash
soon."
"It's certainly enough to send anyone over the edge. If she's
starting to remember things from her past—"
"Exactly. I think I'm going to talk to her about seeing someone."
"A therapist?"
"I think it would help. At least we could find out if these
nightmares are just dreams, or repressed memories. She could be a good
candidate for hypnotherapy."
"She may not agree."
"I don't know. I think she wants to find out the truth as much as
I do, now that she knows that there's something to look for. Before, it
was just a big blank. Now that we're filling in some of the pieces, it
would be easier for her to tell if what she's remembering is real."
"I do think you should talk to her. Just be prepared for her to
say no. It will be frightening for her if she does it, and it may not
even lead to anything."
"I know. I wasn't even going to bring it up, except for the
nightmare." Mulder sighed. "At least if we get her to a therapist, he
may be able to help her with those."
"Sounds like a good idea."
She awoke suddenly, covered in sweat. Gasping for breath, she sat fully
up, only peripherally aware of the tears streaming down her cheeks.
She looked at the clock. 3:17 am.
The dream had been so real—just like the other ones. She was
falling, falling a long way, in a long flannel nightgown. She was a little
girl—scrawny, scared. She couldn't find anything to hold on to.
She was Samantha.
Fox
by Mona Ramsey
"Are you okay?"
