From: waterfall Date: Fri, 27 Oct 2000 15:42:49 -0400 Subject: NEW: All Alone in the Dream (1/1) post-Requiem This story contains references to deaths of pregnant women. Although there are no graphic descriptions, the subject matter may not be suitable for some readers. Disclaimer: The XF characters contained in this story are the creative property of 1013 Productions and FOX. Title: All Alone in the Dream Author: waterfall waterfallingbc@yahoo.com Rating: PG-13 Class: V Archive: Ephemeral & Gossamer, OK. Anyone else, write me. Spoiler: post-Requiem Summary: It's not enough just to stand and stare. The phone rings in the basement office, and its lone occupant reaches across the desk to pick up the receiver. "Scully," she says, in the flat monotone of one whose attention is still elsewhere. Eyelids raise and there is a sharp intake of breath as she pulls the legal pad closer to hastily scribble down the address being given to her by the Bethesda Police Department. "Tell Detective Brewer that I'm on my way," is her only response. The side desk drawer is open even before she hangs up the phone. Wallet, ID, and weapon are collected and stored in their familiar places on her body as she walks to the door. She stops to retrieve her coat and turns around towards her desk as she struggles to put her arms through the sleeves. Her eyes focus on the phone. `Call him,' nags a part of her conscience. She resists while straightening out her collar but does not move towards the door. She reconsiders as she adjusts the lapels, and her hands move inside her coat pockets. A decision is made; she will call him from the car. As she pulls out of the underground parking deck, she punches in the speed-dial code for his office on her cellphone. "Skinner," he answers. "They've found her. Linda Newbury. I'm on my way now." "Is she alive?" Her answer is delivered with a sigh. "No." She pauses to see if he will ask the follow-up question and is not disappointed. "Is she still . . ." He stops short of that last description, probably in some veiled hope that he will not upset her if he does not say that word out loud. And yet it is *because* he will not say that word out loud to her that she impatiently responds. "I don't know. They didn't say. I expect not." Another sigh of resignation. "I'll call you when I find out." She presses the `end' button and drops the cellphone into the cup holder. Before she can hear the anxiety in his voice that has become present as of late. Before she can hear in his silence the question he will no longer ask. `Why are you so interested in this case?' `Because,' she would reply, `it's my job.' Because, she would add, she is the one who had noticed a pattern upon the disappearance of Linda Newbury, albeit a slight one. And then the words would slip out of his mouth. `Just like Mulder.' He would catch his faux pas and inwardly cringe with guilt at the comparison. Glancing downwards again, he would shuffle through the pages of the file before returning it to her, wishing her luck on the search and requesting that he be kept informed on her progress and her whereabouts. Hoping that she does not hear his mental refrain of pointing out that she is on light desk duty. A twinge in her side reminds her of the reason for Skinner's concern, and the pressure on her bladder sends her looking for the nearest exit with a fast-food place and a relatively accessible and clean bathroom. It is not until she returns to her car and puts her keys in the ignition that she realizes that, until seven minutes ago, she had not thought of her missing partner that day. =========================================== Scully had come across the case by accident. Every other day or so, she would log onto the Missing Persons database to check if any inquiries had been made concerning Mulder. Not that she didn't trust Skinner or the Gunmen to pass on any new information but rather that she had little opportunity over the past couple of months to actively participate in the search. Just getting out of the basement for that thirty minutes or so was a welcome change of pace from the case reviews that continued to pile up on her desk. About ten days ago, she had accidentally scrolled passed Mulder's entry and landed on the Newbury report. At first, the only thing about the details that caught her eye was the nearby Bethesda address. Then she came across part of the description of the missing woman - that she was in her ninth month of pregnancy. Acting on a hunch, she printed out the page and returned to her office to log onto the internet. Scully was reminded of a news report from about two years ago and checked several news archives. Another woman in the area - Reston or Herndon, she could not remember - had been found dead after apparently giving birth although no baby was ever located. That woman, she read, had not been reported as missing by her husband until just a few hours prior to her being found. His alibi and explanation - he was at work and thought that she was with her family - were collaborated by others. The police statements released to the press indicated that the evidence suggested that she had given birth where she was found and had bled to death. Still, it bothered Scully to find no subsequent reports. Where was the baby, and why was there no trace of the person or persons who took it? Further internet searches of similar occurrences found five additional cases in the mid-Atlantic states alone going back ten years. That made six women between 1990 and 1998 who were in their last stages of pregnancy when they disappeared and who were found dead in close proximity to where they had lived without fetuses intact. Only the second victim, Louisa Hull, had any violence visited upon her. Whether the delivery process was difficult or the kidnapper got impatient, they may never know, but a crude attempt at a cesarean completed the birthing. The other four victims were either smothered or drowned after delivering their children. Skinner handed the file folders back to her during one of their meetings. "This is not a Bureau matter, Agent Scully." "Where are those children, sir? If these murders are being carried out by the same person or persons, then there are kidnapping charges to be considered, and they are crossing state lines to do it." "*If*. A big If. Why are you so interested in these cases? There is very little evidence to tie them together, much less to make them into an X File." Scully suddenly wished that Mulder were there. He'd have the perfect comeback - that the marks on Louisa Hull could have ritualistic in nature and that the newborns could have been fodder in satanic human sacrifices. He would have made it sound much more convincing, but she held her tongue. It was an extremely chilling thought coming from someone who was absentmindedly rubbing the side of her swelling stomach. "I'd at least like to contact those looking for the missing Newbury woman and give them my notes. They might find some similarities along the way." "Or you're just going to worry them needlessly." He put his hands up in resignation. "Okay." He stood up from behind his desk to signal the end of their meeting. "But, Scully, don't get yourself too involved in this. I know that it might seem as if I'm being patronizing about this, but I don't want this subject matter to upset you, to make it personal for you." "It doesn't upset me at the level where I think that I could be a target, but a personal observation or two might shed some light on the case." She pushed down on the arm rests to give her legs the momentum to lift her out of the chair. "I don't accept that what's happening is just a case of others suffering, but I do thank you for your concern." She left his office with renewed resolve. It had been a while since she had poured so much of her energy into a single case - well, not since she had to stop traveling, and she was beginning to feel that she was carrying out her few remaining duties with perfunctory ease. She needed this jolt to her system to clear out the haze of days passed alone - to remind herself of exactly why she had joined the Bureau in the first place. Her subsequent encounter with Detective Brewer of the Bethesda Police Department was met with much the same skepticism as the one with Skinner. "I don't know what more we can do on this case. We've already interviewed the families and neighbors." Brewer flipped through the pages of his notepad. "And members of the Lamaze class, her doctor's office staff, her co-workers . . ." "Co-workers?" she asked. "Was she still working?" Brewer again consulted his notes. "Ummmm, actually she went on maternity leave two days before her disappearance." "None of the other women were currently working either." Scully combed through her files to refresh her memory. "Those who had jobs had already started their leave time." Brewer was curious. "Why is that important?" "It would be several hours, perhaps all day, before someone would notice that they were missing if they were staying at home alone." She looked through her list of follow-up questions. "Have you checked out any baby shops that she would have frequented? See if she was registered anywhere?" "Yeah, that's a popular thing now, isn't it? You know, if someone was targeting expectant mothers specifically looking for those with close due dates, that database would be a gold mine. You might have something there." He motioned towards her files. "Do you mind leaving those here for a few days? I'd like to have my partner go over them and compare them with employment files of local baby stores. See if any of them could possibly be connected to the other dead women." Scully agreed, happy to have made any sort of contribution, and placed her card on top of the paperwork she left on his desk. As she turned to leave his office, Brewer called out, "So, what do you think that this person is doing with the babies?" She paused, as if not wanting to give the answer that she had been formulating over several days. If Mulder had this case, she thought, what would he have said about her conclusions? "You may be looking for someone, a woman, who can't have children of her own. Who would do anything to have a baby - specifically, a newborn. Someone who wouldn't have the necessary skills or confidence to stake out hospital nurseries but who would have the capacity for keeping the women captive until they gave birth. And if it is the same person responsible for all of these deaths, then the timing over the years suggests that as the prior child grows out of the infant stage, another baby would be needed to take its place." "So, what's happening with the older children?" It was the question she could not bring herself to answer out loud. She had seen too many murdered children over the years but could not remain numb to the horror of one being harmed by the person the child most trusted. She avoided Brewer's eyes and quickly escaped through the door to the outer offices, leaving him to swear under his breath at the possibility of finding more than one dead body in connection with this case. Several days later, Scully learned of a candlelight vigil being held that evening for the missing woman at the family's church. Every fiber within her told her that dragging herself out on a chilly evening while in the late stages of pregnancy just to stand around with some strangers was folly, but she felt the need to connect with the victim, to show somehow that someone who hadn't met or come in contact with her could possibly be interested in her welfare. Because it sounded exactly like something that her partner would do. She also could not shake the idea that she or someone else should be doing the same thing for Mulder. =========================================== She remembers the vigil from several nights past - the white candle smelling of almonds, the crumpled tinfoil at its base to catch the melting drippings. The hushed tones of many individual prayers. She remembers holding the candle in her left hand while her right hand was in her coat pocket, fingering her rosary. Hiding the act lest she displease the regular churchgoers, not limiting her prayers to only the missing woman. Glancing at the paper with the scribbled location, she maneuvers to exit the highway to where the missing woman's body has been found. Which is the better way to treasure our loved ones, she ponders. To stand with others - strangers and friends - in silent accord as she had done for the missing woman, as she is doing day after day for her missing partner. Or to jump into the fray, digging frantically as if to free someone caught in an avalanche, where there is little time before the air supply runs out. Four men keep intervening in the work she wants to do, needs to do. Telling her that she is honoring her loved one just by being heavy with child. Skinner interrupts with his guilt of having lost Mulder in the first place; Frohike cautions with his hands upon hers in support but with his eyes fighting his own tears of anguish. Langly distances himself from her when not actually working with her, more to hide his shame of only being able to feel pity while Byers, ever stalwart, reminds her that Mulder would expect them to look out for her. `Look at her,' the hallways whisper, `her partner is gone, and she is alone.' She does not search for those speaking voices, will not give them the satisfaction of believing that she concerns herself with their gossiping. Her name is now coupled with his - while it may have irritated her in the past, she now considers that yoke to be light. She will endure these little humiliations, anything to remind the others of work not yet completed and persons not yet found. She resolves to not become a cenotaph - a monument to the dead buried elsewhere - in anyone's eyes. She will continue to investigate the cases that cross her desk rather than be intimidated by the subject matter or her self-appointed caretakers. When Mulder does return, she thinks, he deserves to have more than just a partner waiting for him at the end of his journey. He must find that she carries on his work - their work - in spite of his absence and her condition. The best way that she can honor him is to not turn away from the finding of truths that exist. She maneuvers her car into the parking lot that borders the docks where the search boats are gathered and is nearly blinded by half a dozen vehicles with their blue lights swirling. A policeman approaches her car in preparation to order her out, but she is at the ready with her Bureau identification and is waved through. And as she makes the long walk to the grassy area that separates the lot and the river, she wonders if she would have the strength to do this if she knew that Mulder was underneath that plastic covering ahead. Yes, she reasons. Because it is her job. Her partner would expect no less. ========================================================== This story was written in response to the X-File Lyric Wheel challenge initiated by Pollyanna. Lyrics are passed from one participant to another, and a story is written based upon the mood and the theme of the lyrics rather than having a character react to those lyrics a la the stereotypical songfic. The only stipulation is that at least one line of the lyric set be included in the story itself. I was given `On the Turning Away' by Pink Floyd. On the Turning Away by David Gilmour and Anthony Moore; recorded by Pink Floyd On the turning away from the pale and downtrodden and the words they say which we won't understand "Don't accept that what's happening is just a case of others suffering or you'll find that you're joining in the turning away." It's a sin that somehow light is changing to shadow and casting its shroud over all we have known unaware how the ranks have grown driven on by a heart of stone we could find that we're all alone in the dream of the proud. On the wings of the night as the daytime is stirring where the speechless unite in a silent accord using words you will find are strange and mesmerized as they light the flame feel the new wind of change on the wings of the night. No more turning away from the weak and the weary no more turning away from the coldness inside just a world that we all must share it's not enough just to stand and stare is it only a dream that there'll be no more turning away? end