There's A Way
Chapter 13
Tuesday October 3, 2000
When I woke on Tuesday morning, Mulder had rolled onto his side and cocooned me in his arms. Sadly, I was only allowed a moment to relish the feeling before the alarm clock interrupted my morning snuggle. Mulder awoke energetic and refreshed, giving me a squeeze and a kiss before he rolled out of bed. When I started to get out of bed, however, I felt a familiar churning in my stomach. Mulder stopped in his tracks when he heard me groan.
"Nauseous?" he grimaced.
"Yes," I groaned and sank back against my pillow.
"Do you want to stay home?" he sat down on the edge of the bed.
"I can't stay home because I have morning sickness, Mulder," I sighed.
"So you'll puke your guts up and then go into work and faint?" he reached for my hand -- a concerned look on his face.
"I have a different plan, if that's okay with you," I couldn't help smiling.
"And I'm assuming it's better than puking and fainting?" he gave my hand a squeeze.
"I'm hoping it will prevent all of that," I chuckled.
"I'm all ears," he looked at me expectantly.
"Since I always feel better once I've had some toast, I was thinking --"
"I can bring it up here for you," Mulder read my thoughts. "Since you don't seem to get really ill until you get out of bed. Would that help?" he looked hopeful.
"C'mere," I beckoned him with my finger.
"What?" he leaned closer to me.
"That would be very helpful," I curled my hand behind his neck and pulled him to my lips. "And very sweet," I smiled after I'd kissed him.
"That's me," he grinned and got to his feet. "Savior of nauseous women everywhere," he put his hands on his hips and thrust his chin up in a superhero pose.
"Well, the nauseous woman in this bedroom is very grateful," I smiled up at him.
"I'll be right back," he took exaggerated strides toward the door with his chest puffed out.
Once he'd left the room, I laughed to myself about the comic picture he'd presented as I pulled blankets up to my chin. I'd closed my eyes and was taking deep breaths -- my version of aromatherapy -- Mulder-aroma therapy, when Mulder startled me.
"Would you like some tea, too?" he'd popped his head into the room again. "Sorry," he chuckled when he saw me jump.
"Yes, please," I smiled and he was gone again.
The smell of toast started to float up to the bedroom a few minutes later, followed shortly by the sound of Mulder taking the stairs two at time.
"Here you go," he hand me the plate and then bent to press a quick kiss against my cheek. "Kettle's boiling," he informed me as he spun around again.
He'd barely left the room when Megan began to cry in her crib.
"I'll get her," he called to me and I saw him flash past the door. A minute or so later he walked by again with Megan in his arms.
"I'll be up with the tea in a few minutes," he smiled at me.
I ate my toast slowly, letting my stomach get used to the fact that it had food in it. Between bites, I closed my eyes and breathed deeply through my nose. I knew, given enough time, I would slowly start to feel less queasy. After I'd finished one piece, I'd closed my eyes trying to decide whether or not to eat the second. I'd almost decided that I probably should when a fragrance drifted past my nose -- my heart started to race immediately. It smelled like Ivory soap and a freshly pressed uniform; it smelled faintly of coffee and something vaguely spicy. It smelled like my father. The image that flashed through my mind was of that night almost seven years earlier when I'd had that terrible dream. I was afraid to open my eyes, but the scent was not going away. When I forced myself to open my eyes, I froze instantly, thinking my fears had been realized. He was there. Standing in the doorway. It took me a second to realize that something was different. He was smiling. I quickly squeezed my eyes closed again.
"Scully?" Mulder's voice startled me. "What's the matter? You look so pale. Isn't the toast helping?" He had my tea in one hand and Megan in the other.
"No, the toast was working, but then my fluctuating hormones threw me for a different loop," I blinked rapidly.
"What do you mean?" he handed the tea to me. When I reached out to take it my hand was shaking. "Scully, what happened?" he set the tea down on the night table and sat down beside me.
"It was nothing," I shook my head.
"Scully," Mulder's voice was serious, "You have the steadiest hands I've ever seen. Nothing fazes you. What happened?"
"Just my mind playing tricks on me," I reached out to caress Megan's cheek.
"Scully...."
"I thought I saw something," I shrugged. "It's just rampant hormones," I dismissed it with a shrug.
"What was it? From the way you're shaking it must have been horrible," he handed me my tea.
"Not horrible," I laughed, surprising him. "Just unexpected."
"For God's sake, Scully, will you just tell me what you saw!" Mulder was more than impatient.
After taking a sip of my tea, I took a deep breath and whispered, "My dad."
"Your dad?" Mulder's eyes widened and he looked around the room.
"He's not here," I laughed. "Seriously, Mulder, it's not unusual for pregnant women to have experiences like this. Most have more vivid dreams and some report hallucinations. It doesn't mean anything," I tried to assure him.
"But you've had visions before," he started to remind me when the doorbell rang. "I forgot to unlock the door," he jumped up; Megan still in his arms. "I don't think you should dismiss this so easily," he furrowed his brow. "Can we talk about this later?"
"In private," I warned him. "No one else needs to know."
"But Scully..." he whined.
"Mulder, I told you this in confidence, and I'm trusting you to respect my wishes," I kept my voice low, not knowing if Andrew was awake.
"Fine," I heard him sigh in exasperation as he went down the stairs to let my mother in.
After I finished my tea I felt much better and was able to get up and have my shower. By the time Mulder and I were ready to leave Andrew was long gone. Since I would be leaving early we needed two cars. Mulder would drive us in, but come home with Andrew. Once Andrew had a place of his own, we'd have to drive in separately.
As soon as we were alone again Mulder brought up what I'd seen earlier.
"Can we talk now?" he sounded anxious to discuss it again.
"What's the point?" I shrugged. "Even if
I did have a vision, what's the point of discussing it?" Frowning, he pursed his lips. Then he took a breath like he was going to say something, but he closed his mouth again and exhaled through his nose.
"What?"
"Can't you just give me more details?" he pleaded with his eyes.
"Okay," I gave in with a sigh. "What do you want to know?"
"Um...where was he?"
"In the doorway."
"What was he wearing?"
"His dress whites."
"Did he say anything?"
"No, he was just smiling at me," I felt a chill run through me at the memory.
"Really?" Mulder's face lit up. "That's great!"
"Why?" I asked with a laugh.
"Because he was happy about something -- the baby!" Mulder sounded gleeful.
"Mulder, I don't think --"
"Scully," he interrupted me. "Can you just humor me, please?"
"Okay, sorry," I tried to remember that he was just curious.
"Is there anything else that struck you?" he raised his eyebrows. "Anything at all?"
"Well," I hesitated. I knew if I told Mulder that I'd smelled my dad, he would make too much out of it.
"What?" he looked at me quickly. "Was there something else?"
"I smelled him," I admitted quietly.
"You smelled him?" he repeated in awe. "Wow!"
"Wow?" I chuckled. "Why wow?"
"That usually indicates a really strong connection," his eyes were wide.
"Or really strong hormones," I argued.
"Maybe the hormones made you more in tune," he countered.
"Maybe," I didn't feel like getting into a debate about it.
"Will you let me know if you have any more visions?" he reached for my hand. "Please?"
"Mulder, I don't want you to investigate me," I warned him. "I'm your wife, not a case study."
"I won't. I promise," he squeezed my hand. "But am I allowed to think it's really cool?" he winked at me.
"I guess," I consented. "Just keep it to yourself."
"But you will tell me if anything else happens -- anything at all out the ordinary, right? I only want to know as an interested spouse. Wouldn't you want to know if things like that were happening to me?"
"You're right, Mulder. I'm sorry. I promise I won't keep anything from you," I assured him by squeezing his hand.
Fifteen minutes later we were walking down the back stairs to the office. Before we left the car I reminded Mulder about our no contact agreement. It seemed strange walking in side by side and not touching. I didn't realize how accustomed I'd grown to the feeling of his hand on my back. I thought I might have to reconsider my policy.
When we got to the office door Andrew was just putting down the phone.
"That was Kimberly," he informed us. "Skinner wants to see us in his office."
Skinner was waiting for us when we got upstairs. He'd already pulled a third chair in front of his desk and had a file open in front of him.
"Agents," he gestured toward the chairs, his eyes only leaving the file briefly. He didn't look up again until we were settled in our chairs. "Welcome back, Agent Scully," he nodded at me. "I trust you're feeling better today."
"I am. Thank you, sir," I gave him a quick smile. I felt a little dishonest, not telling him the real reason I'd been sick, but everyone would know soon enough. For the mean time, it was Mulder and my little secret. That thought made warmth flood through me and I wondered if Skinner noticed the flush in my cheeks.
"Good," Skinner's voice was muted . "I wasn't quite sure to make of the call I got from Agent Mulder yesterday."
"Oh, right," Mulder recrossed his legs, and looked down at his lap. He wouldn't meet my eyes when I looked at him. "I forgot to call you back."
"Are you going to tell me what you're talking about?" I was still talking to the side of his head.
"I may have sounded a little panicked when I told Skinner where I was going," Mulder's eyes met mine briefly.
"Oh," I felt my cheeks flush even deeper. It wasn't embarrassment. It was the knowledge that Mulder had laid himself bare before our boss. It wasn't something Mulder did easily. Generally the only emotion Mulder showed Skinner was anger.
"Mulder had said you were at the doctor's," Skinner continued, making Mulder begin to shrink in his chair. "But then that phone call..." he shook his head and actually smiled. "I couldn't figure out what the hell he was talking about. He said you'd tried to call him, but you weren't there."
Mulder had lowered his head to hand and was rubbing his eyebrows.
"I had some blood work done," I tried to explain. "And I wasn't well to begin with. I fainted," I shrugged.
"After that I didn't understand a word of what he said. He was a little agitated," Skinner's face was deadpan, but I was sure I could a twinkle in his eyes.
"I was worried," Mulder looked up from his hand.
"So I gathered," Skinner pursed his lips. I got the definite impression he was enjoying himself. "And I'm glad it was nothing serious," his eyes met and held mine for an instant and I knew the joking was over.
"Thank you, sir," my voice was quiet. From that brief look I knew that he'd shared the same fear that Mulder and I'd had. I'd forgotten how many people had been affected by the pall of my cancer. I didn't realize it would shroud us this long -- perhaps it would never be gone.
"Before we get started, there was something I wanted to bring to your attention," Skinner tapped his pen on the desk. "Yesterday I received a complaint from the switchboard. It seems that one person has been making an excessive number of phone calls to your extension."
"Oh no," Andrew groaned. "That would be my ex-fiance."
"Has she been bothering you here?" Skinner raised his eyebrows.
"Unfortunately, yes," Andrew seemed to shrink in his chair.
"You aren't responsible for her actions, Agent Guernsey," Skinner reminded him. "I'll have calls from that number blocked, and let me know if the harassment continues after that."
"I will, sir," Andrew's tone was genuine. "And I'm really sorry about all of this."
"Things like this happen to the best of us," Skinner sounded almost fatherly.
"Thank you, sir," Andrew smiled weakly.
"I called you up here," Skinner returned to business, "because I was handed a new today case today."
Mulder straightened up in his chair and leaned forward slightly. It was obvious that he was now more interested in, or maybe less embarrassed by, what Skinner had to say.
"Is it an X-File, sir?"
"I would say it is," Skinner shrugged. "But you and I don't always agree on what defines an X-File."
"That makes two of us, sir," I chuckled.
"Well, let me give you the particulars, and you can argue about it on the way, " Skinner smiled and opened the file. "There's been a complaint involving a Witch."
"Someone thinks a Witch is casting spells on them?" Mulder seemed surprised.
"Actually, Mulder, it's the Witch who made the complaint," Skinner looked up from the file again. "She claims her neighbors have been harassing her--trying to run her out of her house."
"Harassing her?" I was suddenly more interested in the case.
"Someone started a fire in her backyard and her house has been vandalized on at least three occasions. On top of that she has received intimidating phone calls, which she recorded, and someone sent her a letter threatening violence."
"Because she's a Witch?" Mulder seemed confused.
"That's what Ms. Burke is claiming. That's why we're involved," Skinner passed the file to Mulder.
"I'm not following," Andrew frowned.
"Wicca is a recognized church in this country. If Ms. Burke was Jewish and being harassed because of it, we would be involved. Being Wiccan is no different," Mulder explained. "I assume she is a member of the Church of Wicca," Mulder turned back toward Skinner.
"It's a religion?" Andrew interjected before Skinner could answer.
"As an organized religion, it's only been around since the 1930s, but people were practicing Witchcraft long before Christianity was established," Mulder nodded. "And it's a whole lot more civilized."
"What do you mean?" Andrew furrowed his brow. "My church always seemed pretty tame."
"Not many Witches in the Crusades or the Inquisition," Mulder noted dryly as he scanned the file.
"I thought Witches did stuff like put curses on people and killed anyone that trespassed on their property," Andrew pursed his lips.
"How many times have you watched 'The Blair Witch Project', Andrew?" Mulder laughed and shook his head. "It's hardly a primer on Witchcraft."
Andrew's face flushed, but he said nothing.
"To answer your question, Mulder," Skinner had been waiting for Mulder and Andrew to finish, "No, Pamela Burke is not a member of the Church of Wicca, but that does nothing to diminish her claim."
"It doesn't?" Andrew was hopelessly lost.
"No even a solitary Witch is entitled to be protected against hate crimes," Mulder was reading the file again.
"Are you planning to leave for Adamstown right away?" Skinner was jotting some notes down in a second file.
"Yeah, it'll take about an hour to drive there. We'll probably only have time to talk to Ms. Burke before we have to bring Scully back," Mulder answered without looking up from the file.
"We could take two cars," I suggested.
"After we talk to Ms. Burke and get the names of the people she claims have been harassing her, we should come back and do background checks anyway," Mulder pointed out.
"True," I concurred.
"Good," Skinner nodded. "Keep me in the loop. It seems Ms. Burke has them dancing upstairs. Apparently no one took her complaint seriously at the field office. We have it because she has filed complaints against several agents there."
"And we're still being allowed to do the investigation?" I was amazed.
"Someone convinced her that Mulder would take her complaint seriously and that it would be looked into expeditiously," Skinner explained.
"Who convinced her?" Mulder quickly closed the file and looked up.
"I'm not sure," Skinner shrugged. "All I know is that this order came from the top."
"It's funny how they'll use me to keep their asses out of the fire, but the rest of the time they won't even acknowledge that the X-Files are anything more than an annoyance," Mulder's tone was bitter.
"I trust you'll give this case your utmost attention," Skinner held Mulder's gaze.
"Of course, sir," Mulder faked a smile. "Wouldn't want anyone upstairs to get the hair on their asses singed. Besides, I'm sure they'd do the same for Scully and me, right?"
"Mulder," Skinner sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose.
"Don't worry, sir," Mulder stood up. "I'll do you proud."
By the time I got to my feet, he'd already left the office.
"Have you got this, Agent Scully?" Skinner sighed.
"Yes, sir," I nodded. "C'mon, Andrew. Mulder's probably already at the car."
Andrew followed me but remained quiet until the elevator doors closed behind us.
"What did Skinner mean?"
"I beg your pardon?" I had no idea what he was talking about.
"He asked you if you 'had this'," Andrew's forehead was lined again.
"Oh," I laughed. "He wanted to make sure I'd be able to reign Mulder in -- calm him down," I explained.
"Oh," Andrew nodded and silently watched the descending light on the elevator. "I really made a fool of myself, didn't I?" he spoke again suddenly.
"I wouldn't worry about it. I'm sure Mulder has forgotten all about it," I assured him. "How many cases have you investigated?"
"Including this case -- one," he grimaced.
"Maybe you should just stand back and watch," I suggested. "You'll never have a better teacher than Mulder."
As it turned out, I was right about Mulder. By the time Andrew and I got to the parking garage, Mulder had started the car.
"You take the front seat, Andrew," I insisted when we reached the car. "It's an hour drive. You wouldn't be able to walk when we get there."
"You're sure?" he asked in surprise.
"Very," I smiled.
I didn't want to explain to him that I wanted to calm Mulder down. Every inch of me was crying out to touch him -- to convince that his work -- his life was valued by more people than he realized. But I knew touching him now would only lead to places we could not visit at work. From the back seat I could still try to reassure him, but at least I'd be at a safe distance.
"I was curious about something, Mulder," I waited until we'd left the garage to work on him.
"What's that?" he looked at me in the rearview mirror.
"What makes you think you're treated differently than anyone else here?"
"I beg your pardon?" he sounded offended.
"Do you think anyone here has their work praised? How many pats on the back do you think are handed out?"
"Commendations get handed out all the time," he pointed out.
"That's true," I agreed. "And you have several, don't you?"
"Well -- yes," he admitted hesitantly.
"I have none," I reminded him. "Am I bad at my job?"
"Of course not, Scully. You do fantastic work," he sounded concerned.
"No one upstairs asked me to save the reputation of the Bureau," I reminded him. "They asked for you -- not even us. Why do you take that as an insult?"
"They only ask for me when it suits them," he argued.
"But at least they ask for you."
"I'm high profile, Scully. It's not that my work is better; it's just I grab a lot of attention when I'm doing it," he tried to reason with me.
"So consequently, when you do something they don't like, it gets noticed as well," I began to reel him in.
He was silent for a moment and then I saw a smile quivering at the corner of his mouth. "Skinner ask you to talk to me?"
"Yes," I admitted, with a small smile.
"You're getting too good at that," he shook his head. "Or were you just trying to avoid discussing this case." Mulder glanced over his shoulder at me; the smile still lingering on his lips. "I've been waiting for you to say 'There's no such thing as Witches'."
Andrew had remained still and quiet while I'd been calming Mulder down, but at the change in topic he shifted in his seat and looked steadfastly out of his window. Apparently he didn't find Mulder's challenge as amusing as I did.
"That would depend on what kind of Witch you're talking about." I replied airily.
Andrew's shoulders twitched again and there seemed to be something outside that had grabbed and held his attention.
"How many different kinds are there?" Mulder was looking over at Andrew, trying to hide his smile.
"In my opinion, there are only two kinds -- the real kind and the fairy tale kind," I crossed my legs and joined Andrew in looking out of the window.
"The real kind?" Mulder laughed, making Andrew look at him briefly before returning his gaze to what lay outside of the window. "You believe in Witches?"
"What do you mean 'believe in Witches?'. That's like asking if I believe in the sun," I kept my voice cool.
"What?" Mulder shook his head in confusion.
"It's a religion, Mulder, but you know that. So why did you think that I wouldn't believe in it?" I asked haughtily.
"Well," it was his turn to fidget in his seat. "I didn't think you'd put much stock in it."
"On the contrary, Mulder, it's always been something I've had an interest in," I informed him.
"Really?" he looked over his shoulder at me in surprise.
"It's a religion that gave women power -- I find that very interesting."
"Oh, I see," Mulder sounded self-righteous, "But you don't think they have magical abilities."
"Think about it, Mulder, these were women who spent their lives studying nature and how it affected them. They discovered the secrets that plants held; healing and otherwise. The figured out how the lunar cycle was linked to our bodies and to their crops. When this information was passed down from generation to generation, it made them very powerful. Their crops were always better, they could heal the sick and they could help or hinder you depending on how you treated them. I'm sure to the uneducated, that kind of knowledge would seem like magic."
Even from my position in the back seat I could see Mulder grinning. "So you think only members of the Church of Wicca are real Witches?"
"I do," I nodded.
"Some people think anyone who practices Witchcraft is a Witch," I could tell he was playing the devil's advocate.
"You mean like people who were raised Catholic but don't attend church anymore and still think of themselves as Catholic?" I played along.
"Yeah," I could tell he was surprised at my analogy.
"I guess I can see how there could be two schools of thought," I granted him.
"But you still lean toward Wiccans being the only true Witches," he knew he hadn't changed my mind.
"I don't think everyone who practices medicine is a doctor," I pointed out. "But a lot of alternative practitioners consider themselves doctors. Where do you draw the line?"
"Maybe in this case there isn't a line," he suggested. "Just a grey area."
"I can certainly see how there might be some people who don't adhere to the Church of Wicca, who may still be Witches. On the other hand, I don't think everyone who dabbles is a Witch," I tried to explain my thinking.
"So you decide on a case by case basis?" I could hear him smiling.
"I always have," I laughed.
"You seem to know a lot about Wicca, Scully," he turned to grin broadly at me. "Does this mean I can look forward to seeing you dance naked at the next solstice?"
"The next solstice is December 21st, Mulder," I reminded him dryly. "It'll be a little chilly for dancing naked."
"Yeah, but if our offer on that house is accepted we'll have a fireplace in the bedroom," he turned so I could see him waggle his eyebrows.
Andrew was still trying to pretend like he wasn't paying any attention to what we were saying, but I could see the tips of his ears turning beet red.
"That's true," I kept my voice low. "Is the rest of my coven welcome too?"
"Have you ever known me to say no to naked women, Scully?" Mulder chuckled.
"I've never known you to say no to anything," I laughed and then we were both fell silent. I thought we should steer the conversation in a different direction since Andrew was definitely embarrassed. I counted on Mulder to do the same.
"But seriously, Scully, you obviously know what you're talking about -- why so quiet?"
"Because I was reserving judgement until we talked to the parties involved. Let's see what everyone has to say first," I suggested.
"You mean like *investigate?" Mulder feigned shock.
"I know it's out there, Mulder, but let's give it a try."
end chapter 13