From: Rocnrods Date: 19 Feb 1999 01:22:58 GMT Subject: "Ashes Ashes" Fragment Ashes Ashes Fragment By Rocnrods Rating: PG Archive: Feel free to. . . especially at Skipper sites Category: Alternate Universe Spoilers: Anything after after Christmas Carol and Emily Author's note: This is a fragment of my work in progress called "Ashes, Ashes" Christmas 1998 The paper and ribbons make the hardwood floor nearly impassable. . She has torn into everything with a furious passion. Toys that have met with her approval are stacked together. There is another pile of maybes that could become treasures or trash based on her whim. The clothes have been abandoned early in her crusade through the presents under the tree. They will not be ohhhed or awed over but they will keep her warm as she plays in the new snow that fell last night. My little present marauder is tired. She has collapsed on the giant teddy bear that has guarded her den since I first brought her here. It is still her favorite. . . she calls him Boris because he reminds her of Boris, my driver, a Russian bear of a man who would kill for her and for me. I scoot close to her and brush the blond bangs off her face. Her hair is darkening and strands of red gold seem to appear each morning. Maja predicts she will be a strawberry blonde by summer. Each day she looks more and more like her mother. I touch the soft cheek and she murmurs in her sleep and once more she steals my heart. Carefully I pick her up and she nuzzles her little head against my shoulder. She awoke me at 4 exclaiming that Santa had come. It is now a little after eight. .and I will let her sleep till noon and then bring her down for the waffles and coco she loves so much. Her room is one of the largest in the dacha, I had once been my study but now it is the land of fairy princesses. I lay her down on the big bed with its clean sheets and thick blankets and her blue eyes open sleepily. "Daddy?" She still speaks English even though her Russian is improving mostly because of the American/Russian school she attends with the children of Russian Mafisos, robber barons, and American carpet baggers. "Merry Christmas Emily" She gives me a sleepy smile as she stretches. She has grown so much in a year . So much has changed. If anyone told me last December 25th that I would be a doting father I probably would have spit in their faces. . .before I shot them. But now she is my reason for going on. For playing the game. I am double agent playing a triple agent and all to make sure there will be a world for my daughter to grow up in. I have to chuckle at my own erstwhile nobilty. There is money to be made in this game and I have done well and for so long I didnt care who eventually won only that they would pay my fee even in the ashes Then Emily. . . i brush my lips over her forehead and ask softly if she got everything she wanted for Christmas. She ponders for a moment realizing the seriousness of the question then turns over without speaking. From her pillow I hear the reply. . . "Everything. but Mommy." There are no tears or bitterness in her voice as if she realizes at her young age that there are somethings that can't be had. I think she means Scully. Long ago when she first came here I explained the Simms werent her real parents but they had protected her until I could come for her. She viewed me with much curiousity, remembering the hospital and Scully and the flight from the bounty hunters. This is home now, I am Daddy. Daddy who goes away on business. . .Daddy who brings back china dolls and exotic candy. But, Mommy. . . .Mommy is Scully. . . I tuck her in carefully making sure she is warm. I check the locks on the windows. My fortess of solitude is now her playland. The irony doesnt bother me. In my much smaller study downstairs I review emails and sealed diplomatic pouches. Conspiracies and alien invasions do not stop for holidays. Hours later my mind is not on the coded words and careful diagrams but on Scully. Somehow I find myself dialing her cell number. My satellite phone is scrambled and cloned so many times there is no way it could be tracked but still my hand trembles wondering if she will find me, if she will find Emily. There is a long soft ring, then another, and another. . .I almost hit the end button but then there is a click and her soft voice crosses the thousands of miles in seconds. "Scully." No hello, no this is Dana, just Scully.. I can't speak. .. . she says her name again and I am frozen, I can hear her breath then the movement of the phone. Then Mulder's voice. "Who is it Scully?" Red rage seeps over my eyes. They are spending Christmas Eve together. Will she wake in his arms tomorrow. I can hear the pain and bitterness in my voice as I whisper. . "Merry Christmas, Dana." I hit the end button before she can reply.