From: Lyle Bontrager Date: Tue, 29 Jun 1999 23:53:49 -0500 Subject: Collection -- Part One: Anemone Title: Collection Part One: Anemone Author: RocketMan >lebontrager@iname.com< Disclaimer: Mulder and Scully belong to CC, 1013, and Fox. No fringe is intended. Summary: This is going to be a series of stories in which each flower's symbol will be explored. They'll seem to be random moments, but they'll eventually connect and tie in to a bigger picture. ====== C O L L E C T I O N ====== Anemone -- Abandonment ==== Scully licked her lips and waited for the light to change, tapping her foot restlessly against the mat. She couldn't believe it. She had thought they were past this. Past it. Green already. Cars honked. She cursed and peeled out of the intersection, shifting into fifth as quickly as possible, saying a muffled prayer as she sped through the next yellow light. Past this, Mulder. We're past this. His apartment had been empty too, devoid of life, no fish even. Just gone for a weekend, and already his apartment smelled closed up and unused. He had probably left on Friday night, possibly even after he'd dropped her off at her own apartment. Her now racing car had sputtered to a stop Friday morning; a small oil leak had turned nasty, draining the engine completely. Thank goodness she'd been using this Penzoil stuff that had cost fifty dollars extra. It calimed to coat the inside and be able to run for days. She grimaced to herself and shook her head. Once she'd made it into a car repair shop at a dealer down the street, he had promised to have the car ready in about a day. They needed to check the engine to make sure no damage was done, plus add oil, and they had a long waiting list already. Mulder had driven her home Friday, promising to come back in the morning and take her to the dealer. He hadn't been there Saturday morning. Scully bit the inside of her lip and did 85 on the interstate, checking her mirror for cops and zipping around the slowpokes. He hadn't been there Saturday and she had called and called and called, then phoned her mother and they had driven to the dealer's together. She remembered her mother's surprise that afternoon, and then her light wave as they backed out and went separate ways. That was about an hour ago. She'd gotten lost on the way back. She was furious. Sighing, she admitted to more than just anger. Desperation, maybe. And fear. Mostly she felt betrayed, abandoned. She shivered and careened into her exit lane, waving her hand in apology to the old woman in a silver Miada that creeped behind her. To her surprise, the old crone gave her the bird and tailgated her off the ramp and into the street. Abandoned came back to haunt her again. It was a nasty word, abandoned. Left. Forsaken. Dumped. She frowned and turned the car onto her street, ignoring the vengeful hag behind her, going past her own place to throw the woman off. Executing a few swift turns and some not-too-smart lane changes, she was back on her street minus the old woman. Was that to be her somewhere down the line? Pissed off and paranoid? She had to admit that was probable, likely even. Abandoned. Scully dragged herself from the car and pulled out her cellular, hitting the third speed dial to ring her mom. Ironic. Her mother was third. Mulder first, the lab second, out of neccesity. Her own mother third. Maybe she ought to change that. After assurances that she'd made it home safely, Scully was allowed to hang up, and only then did she recognize her figner poised over the speed dial. First speed dial. Call Mulder's cell, it whispered to her. She did and hated him for it when she received the out-of-range operator. Climbing the stairs to vent some of her energy, Scully thought about the word that just wouldn't leave her alone. Abandoned. Like a puppy dumped on the side of a country road and left to starve or scrounge around as a ribbed mongrel. She sighed again and wondered how he could have left again. Left again. They were past this. They were so past this. Maybe not. Guess not. Definitely not. She jumped as the door swung open on her floor. A neighbor, one she had not had the time to meet, smiled politely and stilled his mewling cat. She smiled back, but her heart wasn't in it. Her heart was on some country road, scrounging. The man stopped for a minute and looked at her for a long time. "Hey," he said, then paused, as if he had no idea what to say next. She waited. "Do you want a cat?" Scully blinked. "What?" The man rubbed his chin and sighed. "My kid's allergic. Didn't know till we brought it home and-" He shrugged and handed it over to her, then retreated to the safety of the floor again, leaving her on the stairwell with a skinny, sleek kitten. She gaped after her unknown neighbor, feeling indignant for herself and for the cat. Scully ran to catch up with him, intending to bang down his door and thrust the cat in his arms. She stopped in her tracks as the man sheepishly turned around in the hallway. "Sorry. . .I just don't want to see her put in the pound. . ." He moved to take the kitten back, face properly ashamed. She pulled away. "What's her name?" The man blinked and stared at her as if she were not really there. "Her name?" "The cat's name." "Oh. Anemone. We call her Any for short." "Any?" "Yeah. Like *any*body want a cat?" he said, with a strangled chuckle. She shook her head. "Why a flower?" "Oh. Cause we found her at the apartment door, looking abandoned. That's what an anemone is the symbol for. Abandonment. It's Victorian. Literature." She glanced warily to the cat, watching it's dark eyes regard her. "Abandonment?" "I'm an English prof down at Georgetown U. I got a bit excited. But Jess is allergic. I didn't know." "Is she healthy?" "Jess? Well, yes-" Scully shook her head impatiently. "No. Any. Is Any healthy?" The man relaxed and leaned against the wall separating his apartment from the hall. "Oh, yeah. I took her to the vet. All her shots. Everything's okay." Scully nodded and stroked the animal between the ears, trying to decide between kitten and cat, knowing it had an old, wise look to its eyes, but too small a bone structure to be full grown. "Are you going to keep her?" "I think so," she replied and turned her back on the man. She closed her own door and leaned against the smooth wood, sighing. The neighbor. . .she didn't even know his name. "Any?" The cat's eyes shifted to gaze calmly and serenely at her, as if she had known all along that Scully could not refuse her. Scully had a weak spot for abandoned, lost things. She had a drawer filled with unmatched socks that pained her too much to throw away. She used to have a dog that had bit at her ankles and run away once she'd gotten him all soaped up for a bath, but he'd been all alone except for her. She had two candles that had been placed in the Sale bin at the craft shop, one a pukey yellow and the other a deep turquoise; they sat in her bathroom, out of place. She had a partner that never found the time to let her know what was going on, but could charm her out of her moods. And now she had a cat. "Let's go buy you some food, Any, and forget about Mulder. He'll call." ==== adios RM