Persistence Of Memory - Compiled Author: Kay Hewes ***** Intro: This is the prologue to a story that I have in the works. It's my first attempt at a longer story that actually almost has a plot. Hopefully, I'll finish it pretty quickly after I start posting what I already have. It being summer and all, I can devote more time to it. The premise of the story is hard to explain...but I think the first part will explain itself. The title is actually a Salvador Dali (sp?) work. I'm thinking of adding a second part to the prologue, because it can pretty much stand on its own--write me if you think I should do so. Now, let's get this show on the road. Definite Relationship Warning here. Disclaimer: Don't own them. Don't want to. No hassle, no responsibility this way. Rating: R--Adult sexual content, bad language. Category: MSR Time Span: January 1 1995-Summer 2011 (i think) Spoiler warnings: none for the prologue; all other parts beware. Author's notes: none. just send me feedback. by the way, anyone have a ballpark figure how far a drive Maine would be from D.C.? The Persistence of Time: Prologue--Keys by Kay Hewes ***************************************** January 1 1995 Dana Scully wrinkled her nose in annoyance as she looked up at the ceiling. Had her upstairs neighbors *always* been this noisy? Giving a little shrug, she retreated into her bedroom to get dressed, cranking up the volume on the stereo as she walked by. Realizing that she hadn't actually done laundry in quite a while, Scully rummaged through her closet and pulled out a man's white Oxford button up. One of Mulder's that had gotten mixed up with her dry cleaning after trekking through mud and muck looking for Big Foot or some other such creature that only existed in children's fairytales...and Mulder's. A faint smile touched her lips as she pulled the shirt over her head, leaving the top few buttons undone. Very comfortable, she thought, as she picked up her brush and blowdryer. She pulled her now fluffy hair up into a hasty ponytail and did a little dance, singing along to the upbeat country and western song that resounded through the apartment...using her brush as a microphone. As the song ended, the sound of appreciative applause from the doorway nearly gave Scully a heart attack. She whirled around to see Fox Mulder leaning against the doorjamb and launched the hairbrush at him, hitting him square in the chest. Glaring angrily, embarrassment coloring her cheeks, she snapped, "Jesus Christ, Mulder, how'd you get in here?" He gave a wolfish grin. "The front door, Scully. How do *you* enter your apartment?" Another glare. "I use the my key, but--" "Hey, so did I," he said in a wow-what-a-coincidence kind of voice. "But," she continued, obviously not amused, "I expect *you* to knock." "I did, but the music was so loud I figured you didn't hear me...so I let myself in." And he really hadn't meant to spy on her. But she was just so...cute...dancing around in that oversized shirt, with a make believe microphone and her hair up in that ponytail, face scrubbed free of makeup. She looked more like a teenager than a 30 year old FBI agent with a medical degree. His eyes wandered down her body as she stalked up to him, giving him a shove backwards out of her bedroom. He couldn't help noticing that while the shirt was big on her, it still showed more leg than *he'd* ever seen before. And what lovely legs they were... He followed her back to the living room, eyes never leaving those legs, where she lowered the volume on the radio and proceeded to the kitchen. "So, Mulder, what *are* you doing at my place on a Saturday evening? And if it has anything at all to do with work, I suggest you turn around and leave the same way you came in because *I* am spending a relaxing night at home." "I just came to see if you wanted to get a pizza or something..." he trailed off. How lame, Mulder. Mulder kicked at an invisible spot on the floor. "I mean, never mind." Scully noticed how uncomfortable he looked and wondered why. The were *never* uncomfortable with each other. But, then, she hadn't been particularly nice to him here lately. She'd been quick tempered and at times downright nasty. She felt a sudden overwhelming sense of guilt, looking at that little-boy-lost pout he seeed to have perfected, his brow wrinkled in concentration. He was so unsure of her that he was afraid to ask her to have pizza, for goodness sakes. She gave a little sigh and smacked him playfully on the arm. "We can do better than pizza, Agent Mulder. How 'bout I cook for you?" she gave a little wink as his gaze finally met her eyes and gestured towards the stove. The way his eyes lit up, she may as well have just offerred him the world. Licking his lips, his gaze fell upon the pot of sauce simmering on the stove top. "So what's cooking, Doc?" "Puh-sketti," she answered in a little girl voice. "You like?" "Hey, all kids like puh-sketti. What can I do to help." She quickly considered where Mulder could cause the least damage to her kitchen. "Everything's almost ready. The salad's in the fridge...you could open some wine or something, though." He leered at her playfully. "Are you trying to get me drunk, Doc?" She raised an eyebrow and handed him a corkscrew. "The wine's for me. You can have milk, young man. And you can set the table." He reached to the top shelf where she kept the wineglasses and Scully found herself admiring his well-shaped body. Mulder set the table and handed her a glass of wine. He also noticed how much of her chest was showing with those buttons undone at the top. Damn, why hadn't she put on more clothes? He was all but drooling here and she didn't even notice. All she was wearing was a white shirt...and in her well lit kitchen, he was certain she wasn't wearing a bra. Shifting uncomfortably, he watched as she put the spoon to her mouth and tested the sauce. She licked her lips and raised the spoon to his mouth. "Think it needs more seasoning?" "No, it's perfect," he murmured appreciatively, not sure he was still talking about the spaghetti sauce. He swiped her bottom lip to remove some sauce that was left there. Scully felt her chest tighten when his fingers grazed her lips and her stomach gave a funny little lurch. The heat from the stove must've been getting to her because she was suddenly very hot. "Good," she managed. "Let's eat." She raised her eyebrows at the candles Mulder had lit but said nothing. But he noticed. "Just trying to impress you with my ability to set the mood," he joked. Before she could respond, there was a knock at the door. "Get that, would you, Mulder? I think the bread is burning." When Scully returned from the kitchen with the bread basket she heard Mulder say, "We were just about to have dinner...want to join us?" Margaret Scully stopped short as she noticed the candles and the table for two. Mulder nearly bumped into her. "Uh, no, I just stopped by to say hi to Dana. I'm on my way to dinner with some friends, mysel--" Then she noticed her daughter standing there in nothing but a man's dress shirt. And she didn't have to guess which man it belonged to. Even she could feel the sparks flying in the tiny apartment. Scully noticed her mother staring and began to get self-conscious. She looked down at her shirt and realized only then the idea this whole situation must be giving her mother. But there was no way she could set her mother straight without sounding lame, so she didn't even try. She considered excusing herself to put on more clothes, but that would only serve to make her mother more uncomfortable. So instead she hugged Maggie and said, "Hi Mom. Are you sure you don't want us to set an extra place?" "Uh, no. I just wanted to see how you were doing. I hadn't heard from you in a couple of days." "I'm fine, Mom. Oh, Mulder, I forgot to bring out the salad. Could you get it?" "Yeah, sure, Doc," he said, sidestepping Mrs. Scully. "Mom, let me get that book you've been wanting to read." Scully hastily retreated into the bedroom, not wanting to give her mother time to question why she and Mulder were having a candlelit dinner or why she was only half dressed. Funny, she thought, as hse yanked on a pair of black silk boxers (also Mulder's). She wasn't even self-conscious around Mulder dressed like that. But then, they knew each other better than most couples, anyway. Now why had she compared them to a couple? Why not brother and sister. Annoyed with herself, Scully picked up the book and looked in the mirror. The boxers couldn't even be seen beneath the shirt. Oh, well. It wasn't like Mulder would notice. "Here you go, Mom," she said handing over the book. "Thanks, Dana. I really need to go now. Good night, Fox." "Night, Mrs. Scully." "Call me later, Mom, to let me know you're home," Scully said as she walked her to the door. ******************************* Scully walked over to where Mulder was loading the dishwasher. "Here, you forgot a glass." "Thanks...for dinner, everything." She hopped up on the counter. "Any time." "Scully? What's the use of having a dishwasher when you're just making me wash them before I put them in the machine?" She strugged, gesturing towards the Palmolive. "It'll make your hands soft." Mulder leered at her. "Is that an invitation for me to show you just how soft they are?" She wondered what he would do if she said yes. Would he call her on it? Scully suddenly didn't feel like joking anymore. Without answering, she slipped off the counter and went into her bedroom. Absentmindedly, she looked into the mirror. Yanking the ponytail down, she let her hair cascade wildly to her shoulders. Okay, this is pathetic. She was going to go out there and tell him to leave. She'd been more than friendly tonight, done her sisterly duty. She didn't have to torture herself any further by sitting in the dark with him pretending to watch a movie she'd already seen before. For some reason, her eyes were stinging as she flung open her bedroom door and stalked into the living room. Mulder was sprawled out lazily on the couch--her couch. That only upset her more. "I don't want to watch a video, Mulder. I want to go to bed." He opened his eyes part of the way. "Are you making a pass at me, Scully?" His lips curled up into a playful grin. She picked up his keys and opened the front door. "No, Mulder, it would be a cold day in hell before I'd be stupid enough to make that mistake." Her voice was cold and tightly controlled. Mulder looked confused. "I was joking, Scully." He though he could see tears in her eyes. "I know you were, Mulder. But I wasn't." She tossed him his keys and left the door open, hoping he would take the hint. "Scully, what's wrong? Did something happen? Do you feel all right?" He stepped towards her, but she backed away. "I'm fine, Mulder. You know the way out." She started to walk away, but he cornered her. "I can't leave you like this, Scully. Not if you're hurting." She gave him a shove and he almost fell backwards. "Don't you get it, Mulder? You're hurting me by being here." The words hit him hard, harder than any physical blow he could have suffered. He fingered his keys, then slipped her apartment key off and handed it to her. He looked into her eyes, tears rolling down her cheeks. Her bottom lip was quivering the slightest bit. There was nothing he could say, not if she felt that way. he walked out the door, feeling guilty and completely alone. Scully slammed the door and looked at her plants in on the window sill. She opened the window and threw them out, one by one. If her life had to be so empty, she couldn't stand the thought of being around any other living thing. The sound of glass breaking echoed in the night. For Scully, the sound was addictive. She had a box of old kitchenware shoved in the corner that she had been meaning to do something with. One by one she dropped the plates and cups out the window. Somehow, Mulder made it to the entrance of Scully's apartment building. Glass crunched under his feet and he looked down. Then he glanced up and saw that her window was open. She had a destructive way of doing her cleaning...and she had started by tossing him out. So what else was new? She shut him out all the time, anyway. A voice in his head taunted. Oh, she'd made a point, all right. Mulder took a deep breath and tried to think calmly. It was difficult to see past the hurt. He'd just lost the one person he really cared about. But a nagging part of him said that Scully couldn't see past the hurt right now either, whatever that may be. He'd told her back there that he couldn't leave her hurting. But he had. The Scully he knew didn't make life altering decisions in a fit of emotion; that was his area of expertise. And she hadn't asked him to walk out of her life; just her apartment. Maybe she'd just needed some time alone. Mulder turned and ran back to her apartment. He banged on the door, but she didn't answer. "Scully! Open the door. I'm not leaving until you do." He banged harder. "Scully, I'll break the damn door in if I have to." He waited a second and started to do just that. But he decided to check the door and see if it was locked first. For some reason, it wasn't. He walked in and saw her sitting under the window against the wall, knees drawn up to her chest. "What do you want, Mulder?" She sounded tired. he walked right up to her and looked down. " I want my goddamned key back. You gave it to me and it's mine. I'm not leaving without it." She just looked at him like he was crazy. He knelt in front of her and kept yelling. "You can't just expect me to give you up that easily, Scully. I mad a mistake by walking out of here earlier. I'm not going to make the same one twice. You're a part of me, Scully. And if you don't like it, that's just too damn bad because you're stuck with me now. You may want to walk away from the X-Files, but I won't let you leave me. Not without a fight." "Stop yelling at me, you son-of-a-bitch. Here's your fucking key. And I never said I was leaving you *or* the X-Files. If something's worth fighting for, I don't give up on it, Fox William Mulder. And you know that." She was yelling louder than he had been. He grabbed her by her shoulders and pulled her close to him. She struggled and he lost his balance, ending up flat on his back with her on top of him. His body responded immediately. She scrambled off of him and they both stood up. He leaned over to speak into her ear. "Are you saying I'm worth fighting for, Scully?" She sighed a little and whispered back, "You are to me." She let her head drop onto her chest. Mulder put his arm around her waist and backed her up against the wall. He pushed his hips flush against hers. "Can't you feel what you do to me, Scully? With just one look, one arch of the eyebrow?" Scully was rapidly losing her composure and her control. "I thought you saw me as a sister," she managed, her hands wandering all over him. "That's sick, Scully." She reached up and twisted her fingers in his hair and pulled his head down, taking his bottom lip between hers....nibbling gently then sucking. A shiver of anticipation shot through her. "Mulder, take your clothes off." He looked startled. "What?!?" "Take off your clothes. I don't want to give you time to start thinking about this and then have you run out on me before you finish what you started." He went still and looked into her eyes. "I'm not going anywhere, Scully. Not now, not ever." He kicked off his shoes and wrapped his arms around her. God, it had been a long time since he'd held her. "All you ever have to do is tell me what you need, what you want and I'll try to do it for you." Scully's heart melted; she felt a little teary-eyed. Running her hands under his t-shirt, she whispered seductively. "I *need* *you*. And I *want* you to take your clothes off." ****************** The end. Stay tuned for the next part....and let me know what you think....does this prologue warrant a second part all its own??? ***** you guys can email me at kay.hewes@gmail.com okay, you Extreme Possibilities-er's this was posted first on the big fanfic mailing list. i usually wait until you guys read them before i post them there...but i needed the feedback and we're a little backed up...i've sent something to the effect of 6 installments on this story already...but let me know what you guys think...so i can take your ideas into consideration for this little spinoff *and* while finishing the story itself.... kay DISCLAIMER: I deny everything...including the usage of these characters without permission from their rightful owners. CATEGORY: Mind candy....oh yeah, MSR RATING: i don't do ratings. this is a dog eat dog world. but i rarely do nc-17 either, so you're pretty safe with me. TIME SPAN: 1 & 2nd January 1995 (yes, there's a reason it's 95) SUMMARY: this is mind candy. yum, yum AUTHOR'S NOTES: i'm an author. i get to do these things. this is hot off the presses--i have a sunburn to prove it. it was written in the midst of a water gun fight with my younger siblings today by the pool. i braved a weekend at home. mothers are strange people. so, this one's for my mom. ------ now, several people asked for a sequel to the prologue. this is the official sequel. from here on out, if there are other parts to the prologue, which really has very little to do with the story itself, i will just call it prologue. this could develop into a series all its own. time and your feedback will tell. i have time between now and september...so here goes. the fifth and sixth parts of Persistence of Memory will be out shortly. The Persistence of Memory: Prologue (2) -- Beep by Kay Hewes ************************************************** Scully tried to stretch, but her legs seemed to be caught in or under something. On the verge of panic, she shot up suddenly in bed. Her first thought was that she was not alone. Then last night came back to her in a rush of memory. Oh, God. Had she really told Mulder to take his clothes off? And that she needed him? That memory did nothing for her panic attack. She was verging on hysterical now. Then she felt a familiar hand on the small of her back. The tension drained from her shoulders and her breathing returned to normal. It was amazing the effect that simple gesture had on her. "Scully? You okay?" He was sitting up behind her, his voice thick from sleep. "I'm fine, Mulder." And she was...sort of. That sent warning bells off in Mulder's head. Were they already hiding things from each other again? "Scully, you looked terrified just now. What is it?" "Nothing. I just....for a minute I didn't know where I was." Which was silly, since she was in her own bed. Mulder tried to joke it off. "Occupational hazard?" "That goes without saying," she said, though not unkindly. He stretched out and motioned for her to lie back down. Scully lay down and turned over on her stomach, using Mulder's chest as a pillow. He absently ran his fingers through her hair and down her back, tracing circles on the bare skin. She sight deeply and felt her eyelids droop. Mulder thought how rare a moment this was, Scully allowing herself to be comforted and soothed. Not really since that first case together had he seen this side of her--the vulnerability and the fear. He'd seen glimpses, but she usually covered it quickly...with anger...at the government and at often even at him. Mulder felt a pang of guilt as he realized that she probably wouldn't have anything to fear if it weren't for him. He was always the one dragging her into dangerous situations, running out on her half-cocked. But right then he was too content and sleepy to dwell on those things. He kissed the top of her head and tightened his arms around her. *************************** Margaret Scully knocked on the apartment door. When she got no answer, she knocked louder. She had wound up staying in D.C. with friends last night and hadn't been home. Thinking Dana had been called out on a case, she let herself into the apartment. Might as well water the plants while she was here. Maggie wandered through to the kitchen to get some water. On her way to the window, she noticed the stereo was still on and flipped it off. Dana must have really been in a hurry if she forgot to turn off the stereo. And she had left clothes lying around. How uncharacteristic. Stooping to pick up the shirt her daughter had been wearing last night, Maggie nearly tripped over a pair of shoes. Without thinking, she scooped them up, too. Only when she went to actually pour the water into the flowerpot did she notice that the pot wasn't *there*. Wrinkling her brow, Maggie set the water pitcher down and walked into the bedroom. Humming softly, she noticed the unmade bed. Maybe her daughter wasn't such a neat freak after all. She had just dumped the shirt into the hamper and gone back to the living room when the phone rang. After the second ring, the machine picked up. "Hi. You've reached Dana Scully. I'm not in right now. Leave a message." "BEEEEEP" "Dana? It's Bill. Just calling to see how you were and if you'd heard from Mom. I've been trying to call her for a couple of days and couldn't reach her...." Margaret was about to pick up the phone when she heard Dana's voice on the machine as well. "Mmmm. Bill? I'm here." There was a rustling sound as Scully tried to untangle herself from Mulder. Her elbow caught him in the jaw. "Ow, watch it, Scully." She kicked him and shot him a warning glance. "What was that?" Bill asked. "What was what, Bill?" Scully yawned again. Mulder started kissing her neck and she moaned in between her yawns. "Dana Katherine Scully! Is there a man in your apartment?" Bill's voice boomed through the apartment, and Maggie looked down at the running shoes in her hand. Definitely too big for Dana's tiny feet. Her mouth dropped open. "Bill, why are you calling me at 8:00 on a Sunday morning?" "I couldn't reach mom and *you* still haven't answered my question." "Mom was here last night and said she'd call when she got in from dinner." Scully paused. "But I never heard back from her. Listen, I'll get up and go out to the house. If she's not there, I'll call around." Margaret picked up the extension. "Bill, Dana? Calm down. I'm right here." Mulder stopped his seduction midkiss when he heard Margaret Scully's voice join the other two on the answering maching. He fumbled with it, trying to turn it off...but only succeeded in eliciting a horrible high-pitched noise from the offended machine. Scully was stunned and spoke above the squeal of the machine. "Mom? Are you in my apartment?" "Yes, I am. I knocked and when you didn't answer I thought you had been called out of town. I was going to water you plants, but well, I couldn't find them. I didn't notice you in bed when I walked through there, either." Scully's eyes widened. Her mother had been in her bedroom. Shit shit shit. "I'll tell you about the plants later, Mom. I'm going to hang up and let you talk to Bill for a while. Talk to you soon, Bill." She turned to Mulder and saw his sheepish grin. "I feel like I've gotten caught with my hand in the cookie jar." "You," Scully said pointedly, "have gotten caught with much more than your hand in the cookie jar, Mister." Her tone was light and teasing. How could she be so teasing when her mother--her very *Catholic* mother--was in the next room? Scully knew she needed to think fast, but Mulder was just irresistible with his hair sticking up all over the place and looking all frantic. She leaned in and nipped at his shoulder with her teeth. "Naughty child, were you, Mulder?" She trailed her mouth to his neck. "If you only knew, Scully. If you only knew." She was kissing his ear now and he was having a lot of trouble thinking clearly. "Um, Scully? What about your mom?" She remained undaunted. "Do you think she'll leave if we keep quiet? Maybe she'll think I went back to sleep." Mulder couldn't pass up the opportunity. "We'd probably have more luck getting rid of her if we were really loud, Scully." That got her attention. "You are sick, Fox William Mulder. Very sick. That's my *mother* in the next room." She glared at him. "Hey, I'm not the one who instigated this whole thing, Scully. If I recall, *you* were kissing *my* neck just now." He pulled her down so he could mimic her actions from a moment ago. "This jog your memory, Agent Scully?" Scully jerked away from him, breathing heavily, and slipped on some clothes. "Don't you move, Mulder. I'm going to get rid of my mother." Mulder stretched. "I'm not going anywhere. Could you smuggle me some food? I'm starved." Scully told him to eat some toothpaste or something. ***************************** Closing the bedroom door behind her, Scully looked at her mother. "Mom?" Maggie was just hanging up the phone. "Hi, sweetie. I'm sorry to have woken you up." "You didn't. Bill did, remember? I swear, he thinks just because he gets up at the crack of dawn, everyone does." "So...what happened to your plants?" Scully looked a little guilty. "They did't make it, Mom. So, how was your dinner?" "Fine; I ended up staying at Betsy's because it was so late. how was *your* dinner?" Maggie's voice was a little too casual. "Fine. Made Mulder do the dishes. I now have complete place settings for two fewer people." That got a smile from Maggie. "How is Fox?" "Oh, you know. He's Mulder." Scully yawned. Why wouldn't the woman leave? "Dana, Bill seems to think you have a man in your apartment." "Mom, the only men who have been in my apartment in months are Mulder and the plumber; and I don't go for men whom I met while they were plunging my toilet." Scullly walked back to the living room and noticed Mulder's boxers hanging over the edge of a chair. She jerked them up and threw them behind the couch. She kicked his t-shirt and sweat pants under the armchair. She had to get her mother out of here...FAST. Mulder's shoes should have been around here somewhere. Maggie shrugged. "I told Bill he was probably overreacting. Do you want to go for breakfast?" Dana shrugged and yawned. "No, I guess I'd better stay around here and clean up the mess I've made before I actually *do* get called out." And what a mess it was... "All right. Well, are you still coming out this afternoon?" Scully nodded. "Good, see if you can't bring Fox along." "Okay, Mom." "Why don't you call him now?" Maggie suggested in an almost challenging voice. "Mother, I am not calling Mulder's apartment at 8:30 a.m. on a weekend. God only knows what's been going on over there." Okay, that was true...Mulder certainly hadn't been home to know what had been going on. Sheesh, this was getting thick. "Okay. Well, see you later then. Oh, honey, your lamp's overturned." Maggie set the lamp upright. "There." She turned as she opened the door. For the first time, Scully noticed the running shoes in her hand. Oh, God. "Ooops, here. I think your plumber forgot his shoes the last time he was here." Scully felt herself blush and glanced toward the bedroom door, taking the shoes. Margaret looked at her daughter. "Go back to bed, Dana. You look rather anxious to do so anyway." Scully swore under her breath. Damn Mulder for letting her face this alone. He was going to have hell to pay.... ***** end prologue. Disclaimer: characters contained herein belong to another force (cc, 1013 & those people.) no infringement intended Category: MSR this is your relationship warning Rating: i don't know. who needs ratings? Time span: may/june 2011 Author's notes: i still may add a second part to the prologue, taking into consideration all the feedback and suggestions. enjoy. (by the way...i'm having the worst day--my checkbook wandered off without me, the season finale was a letdown for me, and my modem ate this story the first time i typed it.) so very annoyed. comments are welcomed and encouraged. The Persistence of Memory: Part 1 by Kay Hewes *********************************** 21 May 2011 Brett shifted the backpack on her shoulder as she waited for the elevator doors to open. Thank god it was finally summer vacation. If she had to wear this damn blue uniform for one more day she thought she would drop out of school. Now if only she could convince her parents to let her actually *do* something this summer. The secretary looked up as the elevator dinged. "Hi, Brett. Why aren't you in school?" Lea asked cautiously. This kid had a knack for getting into trouble, she knew. But that was really no wonder, considering who her parents were. "Today was the last day, remember?" She dropped the bookbag to the ground with a thud and motioned towards the offices behind Lea. "Are they in?" "Skinner's in there. Should be finished in a few minutes." "Okay. I'm going to get a Coke...you want anything?" "No, I'm okay. Just try not to upset Violent Crimes again, Brett. They're still ruffled over that science project fiasco." "Well," the petite teenager said over her shoulder, "Agent Michaels shouldn't have insisted that I *prove* to him that my bomb worked. Besides, that was two whole years ago." Shaking her head, Lea returned to the message she was composing. ********************************** The Assistant Director of the FBI rubbed his temples as he waited for the elevator. Even after all these years, those two still gave him more headaches than the rest of the Bureau combined. He was beginning to wonder why in the hell he had proposed an entirely new division--the Paranormal Phenomena and Abnormal Forensics Division--all those years ago. And why on earth *had* the Director agreed so readily? It had never occurred to Walter Skinner that as the two department heads that made up this division, Dana Scully and Fox Mulder could get into more trouble than they had those first four and a half years on the X-Files. As department heads and equals, they would have more freedom and he figured he wouldn't have to deal with them so often. Wrong again. These two just pushed the limits even farther and showed no signs of letting up. Well, at least they were taking their annual vacation for the next two and a half weeks and he wouldn't have to deal with them. Skinner couldn't help but smile as he thought of *that* vacation. Ah, poetic justice. Brett Scully-Mulder, he thought fondly. If *she* joined the Bureau, heaven help her superiors.... He wondered what was taking the elevator so long. Contemplating the stairs, the elevator dinged and he sighed gratefully. The doors slid open and there stood the devil herself, all 5' 2" of her. "Well, hello, sir." She said silkily, smiling that irresistible little smile. Thank god I didn't have daughters, he thought, looking warily at the young woman before him. "Hello, yourself, Ms. Scully-Mulder. And just where have you been...or do I even want to know?" Her hazel eyes went wide and she gave him an innocent little smile. "Oh, just looking for a Coke," she said holding up the can reverently. "Uh-huh?" he prompted. "The only problem is that the only machine working was in Violent Crimes...." she trailed off. "You should have a little talk with Agent Michaels. He just isn't very hospitable these days." Trying not to encourage her, though the wet-cat look on Michaels' face that day two years okay when Brett's science project had set off the sprinklers in his office had been well worth the damage costs, Skinner replied smoothly, "Probably just protecting his territory." The girl heaved an exaggerated sigh and said knowingly, "Insecurities." Skinner just shook his head. "Enjoy your vacation." "Yes, sir!" she saluted before dashing off to wreak havoc on her parents. Brett heard rather than saw her parents as she rounded the corner. It sounded like they were engaged in a rather lively discussion. Well, that was a very nice way of putting it. She stuck her head into the doorway of her dad's office, seeing him perched on the desk and her mom standing in the doorway that adjoined his office to hers. Before Brett could say hi, her mother noticed her and stopped midsentence. Stepping into the room cautiously and dropping her backback to the floor, Brett no longer had to wonder at the subject of *this* discussion. Dana Scully-Mulder turned towards her fifteen year old daughter, blue eyes flashing. "Where the hell have you been? School let out at 10:00 today. It's now 2:15. You were supposed to come right here, remember?" Brett took a step back, but Scully stepped forward. "Mom, I--" "You what? Can't you just for *once* do what I asked you to do? I am so tired of this, Brett. You disregard everything I say and this sort of behavior will not be tolerated." Fox Mulder looked at his wife and then to his daughter. The tension had been building between them for months. His wife's eyes were cold and her voice was even more so. She didn't yell; the control in her voice was all that much more intimidating. Brett stood her ground, hazel eyes wide, dark auburn hair falling over her shoulder. Glancing between the two, Mulder marvelled at the resemblance. His genes seemed to have run for cover in the making of Brett. So much like Scully: The same Roman nose, pouty-red lips that rarely pouted. The older woman's hair only a few shades lighter and a few inches shorter than her daughter's. But then, she had Mulder's eyes...and where Scully's skin was milky white beneath the freckles, Brett's was lightly tanned, much like his own, and rather uncommon for a redhead. Brett's voice had the same steely edge as her mother's as she shot back, "I guess you should be used to it by now. I've always been a disappointment to you.." Mulder suddenly realized that for his daughter this wasn't just about today. It went much deeper than that. He saw the girl's chin wobble slightly, though her hazel eyes never left her mother's blue ones. He hurt so much for both of them but knew this was something they had to work through. He'd been playing the go between way too often these past few months. Scully looked as if she'd been slapped. Maybe she'd misunderstood what Brett had said. But before she got the chance to ask, Brett turned and stalked out of the office. Still flustered, Scully didn't know what to do. She started to follow the younger woman but nearly tripped over the bag at her feet. ******************************* Brett stalked through the corridor, angry tears that were threatening to fall blocking her vision. She knew that if she waited for the elevator, one or both of her parents would catch up with her, so she took the stairs and left through a side entrance. Once outside, she let out a breath she hadn't know she'd been holding, the tears finally spilling down her cheeks. She headed for the bus stop when she realized that her wallet was still in her parents' office. Looking dow at the torturous shoes (why didn't she just buy comfortable shoes? but these had been so cute at the time) she sighed and slipped them off. At least she had her house keys in her pocket. She cut through the park, the cool grass on the pads of her feet soothing her. She tried to please her mother. Really she did. But she just had a knack for screwing things up where her mother was concerned. It wasn't that her mother didn't love her, she knew she did. But Brett sensed that her mother's feelings and actions were more complex. Not only that, but Dana Scully-Mulder was an intimidating woman. She could turn that icy blue gaze on you and make you feel this big. And things had been worse since Brett's vanishing act. Brett still felt the whole thing had been surreal. She couldn't remember much, except for an extreme headache and dizziness. It was like three months had passed in a sudden flash of sensory deprivation. She had been walking home from school one minute thinking that a major headache was coming on, and the next she had been in the middle of some damn corn field. That was it. Nothing terribly traumatic for her. She'd just walked until she found a phone, called collect, gotten Lea on the line and asked to speak to one of her parents. Her mom had come on the line sounding tired. "Uh, hi Mom. It's me. I think I've gotten myself into some kind of trouble," she'd said. No response. "Uh, Mom? Don't be mad," she ventured bravely, not knowing how she'd even gotten here, but figuring her mother was about as mad at her as she'd ever been--except for the time she'd cut the heels off of twelve pairs of Scully's dress shoes to use as peg legs for her neighborhood presentation of 'The Pirate Prodigy' when she was six. She heard muffled voices in the background and then someone else took the phone. She started to get impatient. She could very well be in the middle of 'Children of the Corn' here, or whatever that ancient old movie was called. "Could someone please talk to me???" she demanded. "Brett, it's Walter Skinner. Where are you?" "Um, good question. Hold on, let me see. Um, excuse me, sir...but what state is this?" The man drinking the coffee looked at her like she was crazy. "Nebraska." "Shit. How'd I end up in Nebraska. Oops, Uncle Walter? I don't think I'm in Kansas anymore....I'm in Nebraska." A couple of hours later, half of the Bureau had been there...she still got dizzy just thinking about it. She knew the legend of her aunt's abduction and that her mother had been taken for three months a couple of years before she was born. She sensed that the experience had shaken both of her parents to the core--this had probably been their worst nightmare brought to life. But for Brett, it really hadn't been that big of a deal. She didn't feel a sense of loss or of personal invasion. She still had horrible headaches and dizzy spells, which were unsettling and seemed to be getting more frequent, but other than that she was alive and trying to be normal. Whatever that meant in this family. Suddenly too tired to think, Brett let herself into their quaint two storey house and dragged herself upstairs. After a long shower, she plopped down on her bed and curled up. Why couldn't she just be four again, have her mother pull her onto her lap, kiss her, and make it all better? ******************************* end part 1. this was a bunch of lead-in stuff that had to be done. things start happening (sort of) in the next part. stay tuned. email me at Disclaimer: Don't own them. Don't want to. Category : MSR--this is your warning if you don't like relationship stories. Rating: i dunno. you pick. some bad language. that's about it for now. Time span: may/june 2011 Summary: your guess is as good as mine....well, not really. i know what's going to happen. i'm just not going to *tell* you. and i am probably going to ignore the season finale. thanks. spoilers: possibly some third season author's notes: why can't i just telepathically type this? oh, and my checkbook is still wandering around without me. sigh...i hope it doesn't get me into trouble. did you know my bank doesn't offer checks with ufo's. i asked, they gave me a strange look and said, how do you feel about puppies. i said, do you have rottweilers? another strange look. okay, just give me whatever you've got. so...if my checkbook wanders your way, zap it back to me. comments welcomed. even negative ones. i can take it. i'm tough. The Persistence of Memory: Part 2/? -- Perspectives by oh, dear, i've forgotten this personality's name..... ******************************************************** Scully slung open the door that adjoined the garage to the kitchen, dropping her briefcase onto the bar. Noticing how eerily quiet the house was, she felt a surge of panic. Surely Brett couldn't have gotten into any trouble within the last hour. Wait, look who you're talking about here, Dana. Brett could get into trouble faster than anyone she knew....possibly even faster than Mulder could. and Scully had been having trouble even communicating with her daughter since her unexplained disappearance. She couldn't help remember her own abduction 17 years ago. Hell, she thought about it every day. The lack of resolution weighed on her subconscious constantly. Now it looked like her daughter was going to have to deal with the same thing for the rest of her life as well. Somehow, that affected Scully more deeply than did her own abduction. But with Brett, there had been no metal chip implanted on her, no unexplained medical conditions that induced a coma. For that, Scully was unbelievably relieved. But she was still scared that something could happen any day now. The worst was that this didn't seem to be affecting Brett at all. But Scully had a hard time believing that. Brett was an emotionally guarded person. She rarely let anyone know what was really going on in her head, even her parents. Scully supposed that was their fault. Neither she nor Mulder broadcast their emotions. They were affectionate, yes, but not necessarily warm. Mulder, however, gave Brett all he had...trying to make up for something that hadn't even happened yet, but he feared might happen at any time. Scully still had her doubts about the kind of mother she was. And yet they both tended to be overprotective of their only child--what with all they had seen and been through. Maybe this was just Brett's way of establishing her independence. Yeah, right. Brett was the most stubborn, independent, I-don't-need- anybody person Scully knew. She was a loner, content to hole up in her own little world of music and books and whatever else she did in her room. Without bothering to even slip off her shoes, Scully headed for the stairs, taking them two at a time. At the top, she paused, not sure what to do next. She rarely came up here, so she knocked hesitantly on the door and waited. She figured she was about the last person Brett wanted to see right now. When she got no answer, she debated what to do. "Come on, Scully. You're going to have to knock louder than that." Mulder was standing behind her. "What's the worst she can do? Besides, we're all going to be spending the next two weeks together. I don't want either of you to be miserable." Scully cast him an exasperated look and pushed the bedroom door open. She could see a small form curled up tightly on the bed. Glancing around the room, it was obvious from which parent Brett had inherited her housekeeping skills. Not a single thing was out of place. Even the bookshelves were neatly organized. Scully couldn't remember ever having to ask Brett to clean her room. She crept up to the bedside and tucked the neatly folded afghan from the bottom of the bed around her daughter, then placed Brett's backpack by the bed. "I'm not asleep." The words broke the silence, startling Scully. "So I gathered," she replied, recovering quickly. The form shifted to a sitting position, knees drawn tightly to her chest and flipped on the bedside lamp. "You're home early." Mulder spoke from the doorway. "Your mom insisted we needed the time to pack." He crossed the room and dove onto the bed, causing Brett to jostle up and down. "I told her we should have gone to a nudist colony instead of Maine, but you know how she is. It still would have taken her hours to pack all her sunscreen." "Gee, Dad. Make yourself at home." Brett said wryly. He kicked off his shoes and threw his tie across the room. "Don't mind if I do." Two identical right eyebrows arched as both mother and daughter chose not to acknowledge his humor. "Come on, Mom. Don't you want to invade my personal space as well?" Brett motioned towards the bed and glanced pointedly at Mulder. He just reached for the stereo remote. Scully couldn't decide whether she was making a point or actually issuing an invitation. Brett had this thing about personal space. But then she lifted her eyebrows and Scully as though waiting for a response. Scully sat tentatively on the edge of the bed and watched Brett and Mulder battle for control of the stereo remote. Mulder picked up a pillow and thwacked Brett over the head. The world tilted and everything got fuzzy for Brett. She suddenly felt terribly nauseated. Scully was the first to notice that something was wrong. Brett's face drained of color and the girl put her hands tightly to her head, struggling for control. "Brett, what's wrong? Are you all right?" She reached out to her, but Brett flinched at the contact and drew more tightly into a ball. Mulder scrambled into a sitting position and assessed his daughter. She looked like she was in a lot of pain. He glanced helplessly at Scully. Brett concentrated on breathing deeply and she slowly became aware of her surroundings again. Good, she was still here. She relaxed a little and swallowed hard, tears of pain brimming her eyes. She could make out her parents' shapes and cautiously lifted her head. She scooted closer and put her leaned her head into her mother's shoulder. "Momma, it hurts." Scully's arms went instinctively around her daughter. Brett unwound her arms from her knees and clutched at Scully's suit jacket. "What hurts, sweetheart?" "My head. It feels like it's going to implode, like someone has it in a vise and keeps cranking it tighter and tighter, only it won't go any tighter because at the same time something's pushing from the inside." "Okay, listen. Let me get some aspirin or something and when it lets up we'll go see Dr. Carson." "No, it won't help. Just sit with me until it lets up. It'll let up in a few minutes." Mulder fidgeted, not having anything to do but sit and watch. Was this how Scully felt when Brett shut her out? Scully felt it the moment the pain eased up. Brett's body went limp, then tension slipping away. And she released a breath she hadn't even realized she'd been holding. But still Brett didn't pull away from her, and Scully made not attempt to let her go. The small hands that had been clutching her suit jacket let go and wound themselves around Scully's back, holding tightly. Brett lifted her face out of her mother's shoulder, still a little dizzy and lightheaded. "Better?" Scully asked. A little color was coming back into Brett's face. "Yeah." She scooted out of Scully's embrace and put her hands in her lap. "Sorry." "There's nothing to be sorry about, Brett." Scully noticed that Brett wouldn't meet her eyes. "Yeah, well." Brett picked an imaginary fuzzball off of her comforter. Mulder reached out and ruffled Brett's hair, then let his hand fall to the small of Scully's back in reassurance. Scully sighed. Brett's defenses were back in place, and she figured Mulder would be the only one who could get her to talk, if she would talk at all. "Okay, Captain Kirk, what happened just now?" He called her Captain Kirk, and she called him Spock. Said the ears were a metaphor for the mind, and his was kind of warped, after all. "You talked like it happens often." Brett shot a look at her mother before answering. "Can we talk about it later? I don't feel up to it right now. I could use some tea, though." She shot another glance at Scully. Scully figured that was her cue to leave. She considered being selfish and refusing. It hurt her that Brett wouldn't talk about it with her in the room. But Brett meant more to her than her own insecurities. She started to get up, but Brett stopped her by placing one hand over her own. "Let Dad get it. He always puts in lot of cream." She glanced back to Mulder. "Do you mind? And Mom some, too?" He kissed her forehead. "Sure, I'll be right back." "No decaf!" she called after him. When he was gone she looked at Scully. "Could you close the door? I need to talk to you." A million thoughts ran through Scully's mind, none of them were good. "The headaches--they're horrible, Mom. It started the day I disappeared or whatever. I was walking hom and it just hit so suddenly. Then, after I got back....they're becoming more frequent and more intense." "Brett, you should see someone," Scully began. "I already did. I asked Dr. Carson about the headaches before and she checked it out and couldn't find a cause. And I didn't want to worry you guys, especially dad. I was always perfectly healthy. But I just knew something wasn't right...so I had Dr. Carson set up an appointment with a neurosurgeon. I saw her this morning at 11:00. That's what actually made me so late." Now Scully really felt bad about her temper tantrum earlier. "Well, what did you find out?" Scully tried to swallow the knot forming in her throat. "Nothing. Everything came back normal. But I was still unconvinced, so I brought the results with me. I thought you would be able to recognize something--if it's there--you know, maybe similar to something you've run across in a case before." Brett pulled a file out of the backpack and handed it to her mother. Scully's brow wrinkled in concentration. After a few minutes she looked back up. "I don't see anything, Brett. Nothing. I don't understand it. You've undergone all sorts of test since then, these past few months...something would have been detected if it's there." "Unless it's something never before encountered. Then we wouldn't recognize it." "But we would recognize something foreign." Scully pursed her lips and closed the file. "Listen, maybe this is a psychological reaction to the stress the disappearance put you under..." "But I told you I got the first headache right *before* it happened." "Okay. Brett? Why didn't you want your father to know about this?" She was curious why Brett had opened up to her instead. "Because I'm so confused that I can't deal with any of his theories right now." That got a smile from Scully. "Now you know how I've felt these past 19 years of my life." "Yeah, and I don't envy you one little bit." Brett smiled weakly, but it was still a smile. "The man's a raving lunatic. But we love him anyway." Scully considered that, and felt warm all over. "Yes, indeed we do. Here, put the file away. Later on, you and I can try to look at it some more. Maybe we can find a link, something that brings the headaches on...something you do, or think, or feel every time it happens." She knew Brett wouldn't rest until she found the truth about what was really going on here. Well, she got that honestly. "That is, if you want to talk to *me* about it." Brett did a double take. Was that *insecurity* in her mother's voice? Confident, cool-headed Dana Scully-Mulder? She was used to comforting her dad and his guilt through playful banter...but with her mother she didn't know where to even begin. She swung her legs off the bed to sit next to Scully. "Yes, I *do* want to talk to you. And not just about this. But it can wait. As long as we understand each other. We *do* understand each other, I think. We just don't realize it. Sometimes I think we're so much alike that it inhibits our communication. We know exactly how to push each other's buttons, you know? And that's scary. You and Dad understand each other and without even saying a word...but you're so different that you compliment each other. You fight and argue, but that's your way of working out your frustrations and fears through your differences. We fight and argue and only feed our frustrations and fears--because of our similarities. We both like to deal with things from the inside. When something upsets or oversteps a boundary we've set for ourself, it scares us to death. And then we get defensive. Then all hell really breaks loose -- in our own minds. So we struggle even harder for an outward semblance of control. Do you know what I'm saying?" Brett looked questioningly into Dana's eyes. Now it was Scully's turn to do a double take. Brett had *never* been this open. And she hadn't spoken that many words calmly to Dana in a long long time. It felt wonderful--because Scully *did* understand what her daughter was saying...and somehow she felt *understood* all at the same time. It was a feeling she had never quite felt before. Mulder had always offered her unconditional acceptance--as she had done for him. But this was new. And that her 15 year old daughter could comprehend..and articulate..something of this depth amazed Scully. Most teenagers just stayed sullen and withdrawn, figuring parents were hopeless and could never understand or be understood. But the scientific part of Brett's mind, along with her amazing intuition, had pinpointed the *reason* behind their communication problems. Scully felt a surge of belonging and in seconds found a little peace of mind in her ability to love and be loved maternally. But Scully just returned Brett's intense stare and tucked a strand of the deep auburn hair behind her daughter's ear and said, "Yeah, I know exactly what you're saying." "Good. I thought you might. Now, we'd better go see if dad's burned the kitchen down again." Scully groaned. Yes, Mulder had indeed blown up a microwave by trying to dry a pair of shorts in it once...he just hadn't considered the metal zipper on the damn things... *************************** end part 2 --okay, i know this is rather drawn out, and i'm leaving mulder out. i have problems with that one. i don't get father/child relationships. i have very little basis for writing about one. so feedback on how to deal with that would be greatly appreciated. i know he's bound to be incredibly apprehensive about something happening to his daughter because of his work, etc...plus the whole guilt thing. but i think he'd be the type to really give everything he had to give to a child. what do you think? @%--<---<--- DISCLAIMER: I checked this weekend, and I do *not* own these characters....well, at least, not those that aren't a result of my spending too much time out by the pool. CATEGORY: MSR -- If you don't like the idea of M&S married, stop now while you're still ahead. TIME SPAN: May/June 2011 RATING: Bad language.... SUMMARY: There is no such thing as a summary. AUTHOR'S NOTES: This grew out of my desire to be an only child (i went home this weekend..to three younger siblings, ranging in age from 6-17..can you tell?) This part is not very deep, and has little character development. but the plot development is pretty important. Let's play ball.... ***************** The Persistence of Memory: Part 3/? -- Awakenings by Kay Hewes May 25 (i think) 2011 An hour and a half later, everyone's luggage was sitting by the door. Mulder was sprawled on the couch and Brett sat sideways in her favorite armchair, legs hanging over the side. "Now we can rest. I'll put the luggage in the Jeep later," Mulder promised. "Let's order pizza." Scully stood looking at them, hands on her hips. "Not so fast, space cadets. We have to go to the supermarket and pack all of that as well." Brett wrinkled her nose. "What? You're not going to make us hunt and fish for our meals?" Scully smirked. "Well, not all of them." Mulder groaned and tossed a look at Brett. "Don't look at me. I wanted to go to Jamaica, pal. Sun, sand, and guys with sexy accents....but NOOOO, Dad. You wanted family time, and now you're in for it." Mulder whined. "Yeah, but does it have to start with the supermarket?" Scully raised an eyebrow. "Stop whining and put your shoes on." "Nah, I'll stay here. Let Brett go with you. It's a woman thing. Bond, buy toiletries..." "No way!" Brett declared. "I think my headache is coming back. I'll stay here." She looked hopefully at Scully. "Forget it. Both of you. Put your shoes on and get in the car." "Slavedriver..." Brett grumbled as she stuck her feet in her soccer flops. "Robot," Mulder teased as Brett went to stand by her mother. Scully shot him a final warning glance and he stuck his feet in his running shoes and grabbed the keys. "Why don't I drive?" he offered, heading for the door. Brett grinned. "Sexist, unscrupulous *puppet*..." Oh, God. This was going to be a long trip. Scully added painkillers to her mental checklist. ************************************ Mulder was, as usual, the first one up. He looked at the gorgeous red hair splayed across the pillow next to him. He tightened his arm around her waist and pulled her up against him, kissing her neck. "Rise and shine, sleepyhead." Scully groaned, twisted around, and buried her face in Mulder's chest. "Mulder, it's still dark outside." "Yeah, but we don't want to get stuck in the morning traffic." She let her hand trail down his chest and ran a finger around the top of his boxers. She felt his sharp intake of breath. "Couldn't we just stay in bed a little while longer?" she breathed into his ear. Mulder grabbed her and rolled over onto his back, pulling her tightly against him so she could feel just how much he wanted to stay in bed. She propped her elbows on his chest and put her knees on either side of his hips. "Go ahead, Mulder. Try to get up," she suggested, kissing his chest. He tried to raise up, but she pressed her hips down into his. Mulder groaned. Oh, hell, the traffic couldn't be that bad. He flipped her over quickly and settled between her legs. "But Mulder, what about the traffic?" she teased innocently. "What traffic?" he asked, slipping the jersey she slept in over her head. "I think you know what traffic, mister." Mulder couldn't think straight anymore. "Fuck the traffic, Scully." Scully had his complete attention and she loved it. "Well, I was thinking more along the lines of my husband, but after I finish here, maybe we could try it in traffic." **************************************** Brett felt the headache coming and tried to tuck herself tightly into a ball and tried to wake up fully. These headaches were different and they scared her to death. They were more of a dull ache followed by the strange sensation that she was floating and the world around her was coming apart. Because right before she blacked out, she always saw fragments of her room or wherever she was, like the molecules had just suddenly rearranged themselves. Her best guess was that she was losing her mind. And then she would wake up and be somewhere else. Sometimes she would was up and be in another part of the house, or her neighborhood. But once she had even woken up on the beach...she thought she had dreamed it because the next thing she knew she was back in her room. But there had been sand on her feet and her t-shirt was wet. She had decided that she was either doing some major sleepwalking or...or what? She was clinically insane? She knew one thing. This was something she had to figure out on her own. Her mother would think she needed counseling and her father would suggest something nuts. Brett was able to see again, as the molecules seemed to put themselves back together. To her dismay she realized she was not at home...but where was she? She looked at her watch. As usual, it was blinking. Every time this happened, her watch reset itself. Frustrated, she tried to figure out where she was. Hmmm...dark corridor, smells clean. She used the light on her watch to find a doorway and a lightswitch. No windows anywhere. She recognized the place. She was standing in the basement of the FBI headquarters in the middle of the night, wearing her nightshirt. Wonderful. She started to laugh. Wait, didn't her parents share an office here a long time ago? Opening the door immediately to her left, she stepped inside and tried the light. Eeeew, gross. It didn't look like anyone had worked in here for years. There were cobwebs everywhere. Brett noticed a small box wedged between a filing cabinet and the wall and picked it up. She lifted the top. Inside were pictures and memos. Brett pulled out a picture and looked at it. Her mother wearing a navy blue suit, covered it mud, looking extremely pissed. Next, her father in a pair of red Speedo's. That made Brett laugh. Her parents on the deck of some boat, at her grandmother Scully's house, in front of a small Christmas tree in some tacky hotel room. In almost every picture they looked totally absorbed in each other. Brett knew what what trying to tap into that absorption was like. Her parents had a form of communication so highly evolved that no one else could touch it. And if you were on the outside looking in at one of their more intense moments, it could leave you feeling empty and cold. She turned one over that really caught her eye. Her parents were walking together, it seemed, and someone must have snapped a picture. Her father's hand was on the small of Scully's back; both had on the standard FBI trenchcoats. Scully's eyebrows were cocked at Mulder in that typical way she seemed to have reserved just for him, and he looked as if he were midsententce. But what was that on the end of the leash? She squinted at the little furball. It was a damned dog. She'd always wanted a dog, but her parents had consistently put their collective feet down, so to speak. No pets, they'd said. Not even a fish. The picture was dated 4/24/96. Huh, that was only six months before she was born. Written in her mother's handwriting was M,S & Queequeg. Queequeg?!? Had to have been her mother's idea. Personally, she thought Moby Dick was boring but it had always put her right to sleep after a nightmare. The other contents of the box were more pictures and strange little nonsensical notes from one parent to the other. Brett wished she could take them home with her. All at once, the dull ache returned and she wondered where she would wake up this time. At least she wouldn't have to try and explain to the night guard how she'd gotten there. He'd call her parents for sure. ******************************** She looked around as her vision cleared again. Hey, she thought, I'm getting good at this. Brett was standing in her room again. The bedside clock said 5:40. It was dark out, so it must've been 5:40 in the morning. Oh, hell. Her mother was standing only three feet away, looking frantic. "Searching my room for automatic weapons?" Brett spoke from behind Scully. "Shit. You scared the hell out of me. How'd you get in here? I was worried about where you were. I came in to wake you up and you weren't here." Brett took a chance on just how long her mother had been in the room. She knew it had been 4:50 when she had looked at the clock right before she zapped out of here. "I've been right here, Mom." Scully tossed her a funny look and checked the windows to see if they were locked. Whether it was to see if Brett had been climbing in and out or just to see if the house was secure, she didn't know. "Oh, I guess I didn't see you when I came in. What's in the box?" Only then did Brett notice she had actually brought the box with her. That was weird. "Uh, just something I found. I'll show you on the trip. When are we leaving?" "Twenty minutes, all right?" "Yeah, I'm going to take a quick shower and I'll be right down." Brett's knees still felt wobbly. Scully smiled. "This is going to be fun, don't you think?" Brett hoped she was smiling; she couldn't really tell. "Definitely." She just hoped she didn't zap out of the car during the roadtrip. Would that make her an X-File? ********* end part 3 From: Kay Hewes DISCLAIMER: mom, i didn't do it. i promise. nope, wrong one. officer, it's not a real gun. nope, that's not it either. look, i don't own them. CATEGORY: MSR RATING: who needs censorship? TIME SPAN: May/June 2011 SUMMARY: life is a mere summary; deal with it. AUTHOR'S NOTES: this meeting will now come to order. i wish i didn't have to be an adult. this is getting absurd. they make things so very difficult. you all know who *they* are... The Persistence of Memory: Part 4/? -- Gatorbait by me ********************************************************** May 26 2011 (have i lost time yet?) Around nine a.m. Brett was getting bored. Why couldn't they have flown to Maine? She loved flying, her father could care less, but her mother positively abhorred it. She'd gone through tons of cd's on her walkman, half a science fiction novel and half a book of logic puzzles. She huffed unconsciously and took her headphones off. Her father was still driving and he had a tendency to speed up then slow down quite a bit with no warning. It was really starting to grate on Brett's nerves. She noticed her mother was awake now and decided to have a little fun with them. "Hey, you guys?" "Hmm?" Her mother looked up from her own book of logic. "Yeah?" Mulder looked at her in the rearview mirror. She undid her seatbelt and scooted to the middle so she could lean between them. "How long did you know each other before you slept together?" Mulder looked uncomfortable. He tried to pretend he didn't understand. "Our fourth case together we got stuck with one motel room with only one bed, so we shared it." "No, that doesn't count." Brett pursed her lips. "I meant how long before you had sex." Mulder choked on his tea. Brett smirked. Scully shot him *the* look, but still didn't give Brett a glance. Instead, she X-ed something else in her logic book and never batted an eye. "Two years, nine months, and twenty-five days." Mulder gave her a look. Brett was impressed. Her mother was difficult to ruffle. So she pressed harder. "How long after that until you found out you were pregnant with me?" "A year and a half." Brett did another round of mental arithmetic. "Wait, it took you four months to figure out you were pregnant???" "No, only two. You were almost two months early, remember?" "Oh, yeah." She pulled out the picture of her parents and the little dog and shoved it under Scully's nose. "April 24 1996. So I guess I actually *did* have a dog, if you count the gestation period, huh?" "Brett, where did you find *this*??" Scully exclaimed. She produced the box. "In here." Mulder looked curious. Scully looked giddy. "Mulder, this is the box we couldn't find when we changed offices..." "All the pictures and stuff?" he glanced over...taking the steering wheel with him. Both women yelled. "Hey, you watch the road!" "So, where did you find this? We've looked for these for years!" "Behind a file cabinet in your old basement office." "Well, at least some good has come from her unharnessed curiosity," Mulder muttered and followed with something that sounded suspiciously like 'boarding school may have been the better bet' to Brett. Mulder wouldn't have traded the time he'd spent with Brett for anything, but he had enough to worry about trying to deal with work in such a way that wouldn't put her in any unnecessary danger without having to deal with her own penchant for finding trouble. Scully had once suggested boarding school, but he had blown his top and she had never mentioned it again. Scully spent the next hour telling Brett the stories behind the photos and memos. "So...what about the dog?" Brett urged. "It's kind of cute." "Poor Queequeg," was all Scully said. "Oh, way to go, Captain Kirk. Let's rehash that, shall we?" Mulder sounded perturbed. Scully shot him a warning glance. Mulder continued. "The beloved Queequeg met an unfortunate and premature demise." Scully exploded. "The dog was eaten by an alligator in the middle of a *fucking* swamp only days after this picture was taken." Mulder picked it up from there. "I was a real jerk. I dragged Scully out on a boat only a few minutes after that and it sank and we got stuck on a rock in the middle of the lake." Then he started laughing. Scully couldn't help herself and so did she. "But really we were only feet from shore but didn't know it." "So, looking all wet and pathetic, she hauled off and chewed me out. I felt like a complete ass. She cut me off completely until the day she found out she was pregnant with you," Mulder said still laughing. "Sexually?" Brett couldn't resist. Her parents just laughed harder. "*Completely*," Mulder managed. Mulder and Scully thought back to how careful they had been about their relationship until they found out about Brett's imminent arrival... *************************************** Pizza joint, a couple of hours later. Her Parents had finally worked their way to present day and were now asking Brett about school this past year. "Not worth talking about. Next question." Brett took another bite of her pizza. Scully wondered why Brett hated school so much. She made all A's and both parents knew she probably got bored...but still. "No, really, Brett. We want to hear about it." Mulder chimed in. "Look, the kids are snotty, spoiled, and superficial. They think I'm more than a little weird...add that to the fact that I skipped a grade (She should have just finished her freshman instead of sophomore year.)...and I've already finished two years of calculus and physics...and top it off with the fact that my parents are the modern-day equivalent of the Ghostbusters. You can take it from there." Scully's eyebrows shot up. "Whoa...that's more than we've heard from you about school in years. Maybe the fresh air is getting to you. We have to get you out of the smog more often. Where's my tight-lipped daughter? What have you done with her?" Then she smiled sympathetically. "That bad, huh?" "No, not bad. Just exasperating. It wouldn't be much better in a public school...although you guys know how I feel about that silly little uniform...even if I hadn't skipped a grade. It's just boring, that's all. I have a few good friends. You know that. And that's better than ten or twenty superficial acquaintances any day." "So, if you're so bored in class, what do you do all day?" Mulder hated being bored himself. "I pick up the other kid's thoughts." Boy, she's weird, Scully thought. Must take after her Mulder in that area. Mulder, of course, was now completely hooked. "What do you mean? You imagine what they might be thinking?" Brett tried to explain it. "No, it's like, you know how sometimes it's like you can hear what another person thinks." He looked at her again. "No, explain it to me." "You know, like a movie where you can hear what someone's thinking, but they aren't actually speaking. Like a voice-over or something. If I get bored enough to let my mind completely drift, I can feel their thoughts. I practice it when I don't feel like listening." Hey, Scully thought. She's a little crazy like her father, too. "And you wouldn't believe the things some people think in the middle of a Shakespeare lecture," Brett continued. "So...it's psychic?" Mulder pressed. Both Brett and Scully raised an eyebrow at him. "Don't be absurd, Dad. You know what I'm saying. Besides, psychic abilities are a myth created out of humankind's basic need to feel connected to and understood by their environment." She pushed her plate away. "I'm full." Mulder wasn't done with her, however. "So, what am I thinking now?" Brett groaned. Scully sighed. "That you want a refill on your iced tea while we wait for the check." "Hey, how'd you know that?" Brett huffed. "That's not pscychic. You rattled your ice unconsciously, pushed your plate away, and glanced at the waitress. That's called being observant, Mr. That's why they put the 'I' in the FBI." Scully grinned, and Mulder looked a little perturbed. This was actually fun. Brett could give as good as she got from Mulder. ********* end part 4 From: Kay Hewes Date: Wed, 22 May 1996 01:12:10 -0500 Subject: The Persistence of Memory: Part 5/? -- Voices DISCLAIMER: um, mr. carter? do these weirdos belong to you? i thought so. i'll give them back soon. CATEGORY: MSR RATING: whatever. TIME SPAN: MAY/JUNE 2011 AUTHOR'S NOTES: none. ******************************** The Persistence of Memory: Part 5/? -- Voices Brett was lost in thought. Something her father had said in the restaurant hit home. Not that she believed in psychic abilities, but she had a lot to piece together in her life and head right now and being open minded may help. Sometimes getting another person's thoughts made her head hurt. Especially if the 'signal' was really strong and she tried to block it out. The sensation right before one of those mind splitting headaches was similar to waht she felt when she tried not to feel someone's thoughts--only much much stronger. When the headaches hit, she had trouble getting a grasp on her own thoughts. She felt like her entire being was suffering an invasion, not just her mind. Then it clicked. That was what had happened the day she disappeared. She had been feeling small thoughts for a while, but that day she had felt like it was happening, yet there was no one around to 'hear' or whatever. It hadn't occurred to her to try to fight the sensation as she did now. She had just given herself over to the thoughts...about what? What was it she had thought before the dull headache had caused her vision to split? Oh, right, thanks, crop circles. And then she had blacked out and woken up in a corn field. Shit! There was a connection. Okay, just think. "Dad?" "Yeah?" He looked up from the map. "The map's upside down." "Thanks." "You're welcome." Scully was driving, humming along to a country song. Gross. Why did she listen to that? "Anyway, are there any crop circles in Nebraska?" "They're all throughout the midwest." "Okay." "Why?" Uggghhh. Why wouldn't he just shut up so she could think? "Just curious." "Hmm...think you're abduction was a covert mission involving crop circles?" "Disappearance, Father. Disappearance." What a creep he could be. "Semantics, Daughter. Semantics." She was just like Scully sometimes. Scully smiled a little, enjoying the interaction. "Mulder, which exit?" He tried to look at the map and sighed. "This one," he guessed. "No," Brett corrected. "Not this one. It's the next one." Brett sat back. Okay, now where was she? Oh, yes. Corn fields. So now she tried to block out the sensations...it resulted in extreme pain, but she didn't black out when she blocked them, or wake up somewhere else. So...when *did* these other instances, this...God, what was the word she was looking for? She was going to regret this, but she had to ask. "Mom? You missed the exit." "Dammit, Mulder. Stop messing with that bleeping map and pay attention." "Mom, Dad?" "Hmmmm?" "What's it called, like, when a person can transport themselves somehwere by just thinking it or whatever?" Mulder gave her a funny look. "Wishful thinking, Brett?" She stared at him blankly. "Huh?" "Wishing you were somewhere else right now?" "Whatever. Mom, you know what I'm talking about?" "Teleporting?" "Yeah, I think that's it. Thanks." Mulder twisted around, interested. "Brett, what are you doing back there?" He tried to get a glimpse of the notebook she was writing in. "Just writing." "Can I read it." Brett threw him an annoyed look. "No, you cannot read it." "Come on, let me read it; please?" "No, stop whining. It's unattractive in a federal agent." She returned to her analysis of the situation. Okay, she 'teleported' only when she was sleeping or just on the verge of sleep. Why? "Dad, stop staring at me." "I'm not." "You are. Turn around and help mom drive." Scully was in a world of her own. "Don't need no help from a whiney FBI agent." "Come on, just let me read it." "No!" "Then tell me what it's about..." He looked so pitiful when he stuck out his bottom lip. Brett tightened her mouth and widened her eyes. This was really getting annoying. "No...now turn around and find something else to do. You're giving me a headache." Mulder remembered last night's incident. He still felt a little guilty about that, like it was his fault because he hit her with that pillow. His shoulders slumped and he turned around. "I'm sorry." Brett sighed. She hadn't meant to upset him or hurt his feelings. This would have to wait until she was alone. She closed the notebook, undid her seatbelt, and slid over to the seat directly behind Mulder's. She stepped on the lever that adjusted the seat and Mulder plopped backwards so that she could lean onto the back of his seat and talk to him directly. Mulder jumped when he fell backwards, but settled down again. "Can we go repelling off of a mountain while we're here?" Brett asked him. He sort of grunted. She hooked one arm around his neck. "If you must know, I'm writing a fact-based fiction novel that will make me rich and famous and I'm going to sell government secrets to Libya and become a Jewish princess and move to Jamaica and live in sin with some man with a sexy accent--but not necessarily in that order. However, my editor is insecure, my Libyan contact is paranoid, my rabbi is always drunk, and my Jamaican lover fears his life ending prematurely at the hands of an overprotective father. I tell you, Dad, my life is a mess. I have to be careful not to upset anyone." Scully snorted with laughter. God, this kid was nuts. And Mulder was trying hard to remain unamused. But he almost grinned. "I think you could help, though," Brett suggested in a devilish voice. "How so?" Mulder tried not to play along, but Brett's humor was infectious. "Well, my Jamaican lover and I have been experimenting with birth control. I need a man's perspective. I've already discussed it with mom." Mulder shot Scully a murderous look and she howled with laughter. Brett had him distracted, all right. "That's it," he muttered. "You're going to an all girl's, Catholic boarding school where there's a psychiatrist on hand." "In Jamaica?" Brett asked hopefully. "No," Mulder ground out. "Not is Jamaica." Brett sighed. "That's all right. Any Caribbean island will do." Mulder swatted playfully at her and ended up whopping her upside the head. He craned his neck to see if she was all right. He didn't want a repeat performance of last night. "God, Brett, I'm sorry. Did I hurt you." She leaned in and kissed him quickly on his cheek. "You could never hurt me, Daddy." Mulder looked unconvinced and returned to his brooding. "Dad, it wasn't your fault, you know." No response. "I could feel it coming a long time before you guys came in. That's why I was lying in bed to begin with. I was trying to fight it off...it works for a little while, but then when it does hit, fighting it only makes it that much more intense. I don't know what causes them, but they are worse when I'm really tired. You had nothing to do with it." Still no response. "Damn it. Don't do this to me." She was close to yelling now. "Don't close yourself off from me and get all caught up in guilt that is completely unfounded. I need you right now, and I'm trying to open up here." Brett's voice sounded suspiciously wobbly even to her own ears. Scully had already pulled the Cherokee over, but to Brett it still felt like it was moving. She opened the door and jumped out. Please, please not now. If she had one of those headaches now, or worse yet, disappeared, that would only make things that much worse. She walked until she couldn't see the Jeep any longer. God, she felt nauseous. Uggh, she did NOT want to throw up. But that would help the headache. Everyone got headaches when they needed to throw up. Scully looked at Mulder. He looked pretty shaken up himself. She couldn't decide what to do. She was worried about Brett, but Mulder needed her, too. He rarely ever argued with Brett and seemed to be taking this pretty rough. Mulder turned to look at her. "You go get her. I'll wait here." "Mulder, listen--" "Scully, I'm fine. Just go." She sighed and squeezed his hand a little. "I'll be right back." She found Brett leaning against a tree. From the looks of things, she had lost more than just her lunch. She looked like she'd lost her best friend. "I'm okay, Mom." Scully put an arm around her as they walked back. "Brett, you know how he gets when he blames himself. If someone he loves is hurting and he can't fix it, then somehow in his mind, it's his fault." "I know." Mulder was leaning against the vehicle, kicking at the tire when he heard them. He got back into his seat and closed the door. Scully got in the driver's seat and waited for Brett to get in. Instead of opening the back door, Brett opened the door Mulder had just closed. She stepped awkwardly i so that her feet were hanging out the door and sat in Mulder's lap, wrapping her arms around him. After a minute, Mulder put his arms around her. "Do you remember how much trouble I had saying 'vernacular' when I was little? But you just kept on saying it for me, never losing your patience. I'd try to repeat it and get so frustrated I'd almost be in tears. Then when I finally learned to say it, I walked around telling you guys, 'Please speak in the vernacular. I have a limited vocabulary.' until mom was ready to throttle me." She spoke into his shoulder. "Yeah, I remember." Mulder kissed her forehead. "Me, too." Mulder gave her another squeeze before she hopped out and went around to her mother's door. Scully looked at her expectantly. "My turn to drive." Scully grinned at her. "Get in the back, brat." "Control freak," Brett said and stuck out her tongue as she got back into her designated seat. "Hey, who's up for twenty questions?" ***************** end part 5. ------------------------------ From: Kay Hewes Date: Sun, 26 May 1996 04:03:56 -0500 Subject: The Peristence of Memory: Part 6/? -- Isn't it Ironic? Don't you think? okay, i don't think this sent the first time, so ignore this if you already got this part. sorry it's been so long in coming, guys! DISCLAIMER: i do not own m,s,skinner, or anyone else that i borrowed without permission. CATEGORY: iwillnotgothroughthiswholethingagainyouguysgetthepicturei'msurebynow. AUTHOR'S NOTES: none. ***************************** The Persistence of Memory: Part 6/? -- Isn't it Ironic? Don't you think? by kay Brett glanced at her watch. Her father drove like a bat out of hell. It was only 3:00 and they were already near Portland. Of course, they were going at least three more hours before stopping in the middle of nowhere for two weeks. Brett was sitting in the passenger seat next to Mulder; Scully was sort of curled up on the back seat sleeping soundly. "Mom can sleep anywhere, can't she?" He looked in the rearview mirror and smiled. "Pretty much. She used to drool on me during stakeouts." Brett rubbed her eyes. "Must be nice." She seemed to have Mulder's chronic inability to sleep for extended periods of time. And these recent episodes were not helping matters at all. "Are you not sleeping well?" He looked concerned. "As well as I usually do. But that's not saying too much." "I know how that feels," he said. "I though you just didn't sleep *much*...not that you had trouble sleeping." He considered that. "I sleep better now than I did before I lived with Scully. She sort of has a calming effect on me." Brett gave him a disbelieving look. "Well, if you're calmer now, I'd have hated to have known you then." The sat in comfortable silence before Brett spoke again. "Dad?" "Hmmm?" "Do you really want to send me to boarding school?" "Brett, I was teasing. You know I want you around so I can see that smiling face all the time," he said lightly. Yeah, like she smiled a lot. Brett frowned unconsciously. "Does mom?" "Does mom what?" Sighing, she shifted in her seat to face him. "Want me around?" Mulder looked startled. "Brett, your mom loves you, how can you doubt that--" "Dad, what I asked has nothing to do with whether or not she loves me, which I am sure she does. What I mean is, does she regret having me?" Brett looked solemn and curious. "Why do you ask such touch questions, Brett?" He knew he wouldn't get away with evading the question or lying to her. He looked to make sure Scully was still asleep. "Sometimes your mother doesn't allow herself to have, or fully enjoy, the things she wants most because she is afraid of the hurt she may suffer at the expense of those things." Brett considered that. "But she can't live her life never letting go and enjoying what she has. At some point, we all have to realize that the greatest truth about life is its unpredictablility...and it's irony." She paused. "It bothers me because I know mom and I can only ever be so close; I guess that's because deep down, we aren't sure we're strong enough to let go of the control that would have to be sacrificed for us to be any closer." Mulder tried to refute her logic, but he couldn't. There was always going to be some part of Scully that she kept hidden from everyone, even him--although he came closer than anyone. And with Brett, he knew there was a wealth of passion and enthusiasm, much like his own, that she would never allow herself to tap into. So he tried a different tactic. "What do you mean about unpredictability and irony being the greatest truth?" "Just that we strive so hard for control, to protect ourselves from what we fear most...only to realize that some force unknown to us had other plans that life as we know it hasn't prepared us for." She said this in a listless voice, like it was a truth in itself. "I know what you mean." Mulder thought about how ironic life really was. He had always tried to give Brett what his father could't give him: the belief that his actions and desires mattered, that he could be effective and change the world. If anything, he'd wanted to shield Brett from the feelings of futility, like those he'd felt when Samantha had been abducted. But it seemed like Brett already knew how little control people really have over their lives, in spite of his efforts. Well, you have to believe what you teach for it to be effective. Brett spoke again. "But I think it all depends on how you define control. We may not be able to stop things from happening, but we can look for reasons and try to understand how and why. We can't just let life happen to us, not do anything." Mulder thought about how much like Scully she was for the thousandth time that day. Every now and then, the floodgates opened and she would let him glimpse the world through her eyes. "So...where does our conversation about Scully fit into all of this? I want to know what I can do to reassure you." Brett gave him a funny look before answering. "Don't you get it, Dad? I don't think I'm the one who needs reassurance. I know I'm loved. Maybe Mom doesn't." Mulder looked blank. Scully was just too self-confident to need reassurance. But then, he thought back to how different she was from that very first case in Oregon. The wonder and excitement had slowly been overshadowed by caution and fear. She'd pretty much sacrificed her innocence for their life together. He found himself in a position he'd never been in before: looking to his daughter for answers--and perhaps reassurance of his own. "Doesn't know she's loved by you or me?" "I would think a little of both. But it would probably be more effective from you. She probably has never really reconciled herself with the fact that you did for me what you could never do for her." "What???" was all he could manage. She had lost him somewhere. ""Before I was born, your search for the truth and to find Samantha took precedence over everything. Mom couldn't get you to waver in that quest, even if it put your life--or hers--on the line. But once I was born, you had more to be responsible for, I guess. You've never put my life on the line that way." Brett yawned and looked at her watch. "Are you saying I see Scully's life as an acceptable risk? Because that is absurd; I'd be nothing without her." "I know that; and deep down, so does she. But it couldn't hurt to hear it every now and then, Dad." She looked out the window. "God, it really is beautiful up here." ***************** end part 6. ------------------------------ From: Kay Hewes Date: Sun, 26 May 1996 01:43:04 -0500 Subject: The Persistence of Memory: Part 7/? -- Appearances DISCLAIMER: as usual, i don't own mulder or scully. ******************* The Persistence of Memory: Part 7/? -- Appearances by kay "Brett, try to wake your mom. We're going to stop in Bangor." Mulder startled Brett out of her reverie. "From there, it's only an hour and a half to the cabin, okay?" "Maybe you should se the clocks forward, Dad. When she finds out it's only 5:00 and we're already in Bangor, you're going to catch hell." She twisted around in her seat. "Mom? Dad says wake up. We're stopping in Bangor." Scully sat up and looked around. "We're in Bangor already? Mulder, how fast have you been driving?" She stretched and sat forward. "Did you sleep any, Brett?" "Nah, I gave up sleeping for Lent. Felt so good, I never started back." Not that they were religious, but it seemed like an easy way to evade parental concern. Mulder parked the Cherokee and they got out. Brett looked down the street. It was weird. "Why did we stop here?" "I needed to walk a while. Let's check out some of these shops." They walked a while before stopping in front of a pet store. Scully looked at the little puppy in the window. "Maybe we should get a dog." Mulder shuddered. "Yuk, no, let's get a cat, if anything. Brett, what do you think?" Brett tore her eyes away from the gypsy woman sitting in the middle of the sidewalk just ahead of them. "Sarah has a cat. It makes me sneeze. And it coughs up hairballs." She wandered off down the sidewalk towards the woman, who was draped in loose clothing and strange jewelry. The woman glanced up sharply as she felt Brett's approach. "I've been waiting for you, Brett." How did this woman know her name? Brett looked intently into the woman's eyes and dropped down onto the sidewalk in front of her, crossing her legs 'Indian style'. Brett felt like her senses had all been heightened, and felt a tingling along her spine. The woman held out her hand, producing a ring. "Wear this. You'll understand later." Brett took the ring and slipped it on. She didn't wear jewelry, ever. Looking at the woman, she spoke. "You know, don't you?" The woman gave a half-smile. She had beautiful red hair that cascaded down her back in wild curls. "I know, but I do not fully understand. Only you can do that." Brett had the strange feeling that she knew this woman. "What do I do? How do I know if I'm getting it right?" "Don't fear your powers, Brett. Don't try to hide from this. The only way to control what is happening is to give into it." She paused for a moment. "There is another like you. She was here before you. But the powers are useless to you both unless you work together. She needs you; you have to be her guide." Brett arched her eyebrow. "This is *crazy*. Surely you realize how unbelievable this all sounds. Everything that's happening seems to defy logic, not to mention the fundamental laws of physics. It's impossible." The woman laughed then, a lilting sound that reminded Brett of windchimes. She leaned in and kissed Brett's forehead. Brett was, needless to say, taken aback. No one who knew her made any effort to touch her, even casually. She just wasn't into physical contact. Why would a stranger do such a thing? "I suppose some things never change," was all the woman said. Brett glanced behind her, looking for Mulder and Scully. Her father *had* to meet this woman. "Mom? Dad? Come here," she called. Mulder glanced in the direction of his daughter's voice. Where had she gone? She was standing right there a second ago. Scully touched his arm. "Mulder, why is Brett sitting in the middle of the sidewalk?" They walked over to her. "Brett, what are you doing?" Brett turned back to the woman, only to find that she wasn't there. Well, stranger things had happened in her life. "Look what I found." She held up the ring. Scully looked at it. She'd seen one of these before. "It's an aura ring, or something. It has a name, but I can't recall it. Whatever color it becomes when you put it on is supposed to be representative of your aura. But once you put it on, it will always be yours. If I were to try it on, or someone else, it wouldn't change to the color of my aura. It would change to grey and stay that way until its 'rightful owner' puts it back on. See?" She took the ring from Brett's finger and slipped it on. They watched as it turned into what appeared to be a regular old rock. Brett put it back on, and it turned back to the vibrant golden color it had been before. Scully continued, "It must have never been worn before you tried it on. That's strange. I don't know how it works, really, but it's supposed to have protective powers." Brett looked skeptical. "How do you know that? Is that really true?" Scully shrugged. "It's probably just a more expensive version of one of those little mood rings. But it's a pretty color on you." Brett wrinkled her nose. "Yellow's an angry color." Mulder spoke then. "But it's also a symbol of strength. Besides, it's not really yellow, it's more of a gold. And you *do* have one hell of a temper." He propelled her forward, as they were blocking the sidewalk traffic. The girl looked at it again. "It's weird. But I kind of like it." ****************** end part 7 ------------------------------ From: Kay Hewes Date: Wed, 29 May 1996 23:24:30 -0500 Subject: The Persistence of Memory: Part 8/? -- Blame the Cosmos sorry this has been so long in coming. my modem has been most uncooperative. but i've finally completed the story in my head. two to three more after this. then an epilogue! yea! thanks to all of you who have patiently stuck with me. DISCLAIMER: i didn't do it. you can't prove anything illegal is going on here. CATEGORY: MSR TIME SPAN: may/june 2011 AUTHOR'S NOTES: this took a turn in my head, possibly for the worst. but you can let me know what you think. due to this turn, this part is a little different from the rest. ******************************* The Persistence of Memory: Part 8/? -- Blame the Cosmos by kay Brett looked around the little cabin. It was nice--very nice. And it had all of the modern essentials. Her parents had surprised her. She had been expecting a tent in the middle of nowhere. Actually, Scully had made the reservations. Mulder, however, was not quite as impressed. "Scully, *where* is the t.v.?" he said looking around. "Mulder, we are in *Maine*. It's gorgeous here." She opened the blinds to reveal the view of the snow-capped mountains from the large picture window. "We don't *need* a t.v." "Well, unless those mountains are going to broadcast the sports for the next two weeks, we *need* a t.v." He dropped into a large, overstuffed chair. Obviously he wasn't finished pouting. Scully dropped down sideways across his lap and whispered something into his ear. All thoughts of the television, or lack thereof, vanished. Brett rolled her eyes. Well, obviously t.v. couldn't compare to what her mother had just offered him. "Mom, which bedroom should I take?" Brett asked, impatien to escape from this display of affection. Scully barely looked up. "Take the one upstairs. We'll take the one down here." Brett picked up her bags and hauled them up the stairs. She still didn't understand how her parents could spend so much time together and never get tired of each other. And she wasn't one of those kids who swore her parents never had sex. But for goodness sakes, couldn't they be a little less obvious about it? The upstairs consisted simply of a bedroom with two double beds, a dresser, closet, and a spacious bathroom. Hmmm...at least she had a huged bathtub to herself. And one wall of the bedroom was pretty much nothing but windows and a sliding glass door that led to a balcony overlooking the lake. She had all of her things put away in a matter of minutes. Now what to do? Walking out on the balcony, Brett noticed some people skiing on the lake. Looked like fun, but they had to be cold. She felt a tingling sensations, like she was being watched and looked around. After the past couple of days, her imagination was in overdrive. She played with the little ring on her finger. The gold now had streaks of blue in it. Brett thought the words, but didn't actually say them. The voice responded, her words echoing in her head like unbidden thoughts. Brett was surprised. How was it possible to actually hold a conversation with someone in that way?? Maybe this voice was a figment of her imagination. The voice retorted. Wonderful, thought Brett. The voice's owner seemed to possess a humor that could irritate the hell out of her. She got enough of that dealing with her father every day. God, it was scary that others had her father's sick sense of humor. She'd always harbored the suspicion that he was a social mutant...but a loveable one. Brett ground her teeth. The voice sounded amused. Brett was in no mood for this. She hadn't been alone all day and her patience was wearing thin. Bitterly, she snapped at the voice once again. Brett silently counted to ten before continuing. The voice got defensive. Brett rubbed her eyes. Please, please, let this be a bad dream, she pleaded with whatever force may be listening. ------------------------------ From: Kay Hewes Date: Thu, 30 May 1996 00:57:51 -0500 Subject: The Persistence of Memory: Part 9/? -- Desolate here's the next part. :) DISCLAIMER: You know the routine. Place your hands over your head while i read you your rights....i don't own these people officer, they just hopped into my car and demanded that i drive them around...honest. no, you can take them off my hands, i don't mind. ********************************* The Persistence of Memory: Part 9/? -- Desolate by kay The voice was silent and Brett thought she had gone. Then the voice was back, sounding panicky. This was crazy, Brett thought. Brett ignored that comment. Brett decided to humor her. This person was quite infuriating. Brett felt a chill crawl over her as she began to make a connection. Oh, God. This was bizarre. Brett wanted to see if she zapped, teleported, whatever--somewhere specific, would this voice zap to that place with her. Brett's head was hurting. There was too much going on inside for her to think this through. Brett thought surely there was some mistake. Brett's headache got more intense. She glanced at her watch. She'd been out here for over an hour. Her parents would probably panic soon. This was all really spooky. She didn't want to be resposible for another person's life or well-being. The voice suddenly sounded very young to Brett. And helpless. But she wasn't sure what to do. She hated the idea of being responsible for this girl in this way. The pleas really got to her, but keeping a connectio for long periods of time was exhausting. Not to mention that trying to deal with her parents and the voice at the same time could lead to a mishap. Like her disappearing into thin air in front of them. Now that was interesting. Could that explain why she felt so rested after her three month 'lapse'?? Brett decided that once again these thoughts would have to wait...along with trying to figure how this did or did *not* fit in with what the woman on the sidewalk had been talking about. It startled Brett that she could have walked right past this person's...presence and never realized it. Opening the door to the cabin, she stifled a yawn. It really had been a long, trying day. Mulder and Scully were on the couch, glasses of wine in front of them. Scully gave Brett a look. "Where the hell have you been for so long?" Ouch. She didn't need this right now. "Just checking things out." Brett prayed she'd let it drop. Yeah, well, like *that* was going to happen. "You cannot just go wandering off in a new place, where you have no sense of your surroundings, Brett." Scully looked quite pissed. Were they back to this again? "I didn't go far. And I lost track of time," Brett could feel her own temper starting to boil. It looked like she and Scully were back to facing off. Well, the Berlin wall hadn't crumbled in a day...or had it? Or was that The Great Wall hadn't been built in a day? Whatever, Rome certainly wasn't built in a day... The voice resounded in her head, sounding much louder than it had outside. And she'd missed part of Scully's lecture. Mulder was *not* being helful. He was reading a book. Brett silently counted to ten for the second time that evening. As she finished, she heard Scully say, "Don't you have *any* thing to say for yourself?" Brett was way too tired to argue...that was a first. "Yes. I'm sorry. You're right. I was in the wrong. Why should I expect you to respect my ability to make my own decisions when I don't act responsibly and with common sense in even a simple situation?" Scully couldn't decide how to react. She hadn't expected her daughter to back down. Was Brett being sincere or just trying to placate her? It was easier when Brett stood her ground and acted like a stubborn brat. That was the way they dealt with each other. Neither liked to admit to being wrong. All Scully said was, "Okay." Brett had the feeling she had just scored a point in a game she hadn't even been aware of playing. At the very least, she'd managed to fluster her mother. That happened very rarely. Then she heard the voice complain about being cold. She decided the best thing for both of them was for her to sleep. Annoyed, Brett noticed Mulder staring at her over the top of his book. "Dad, how was your evening?" "Wonderful." Mulder thought about the hot tub. Definitely the highlight of his evening. But he also noticed how Brett kept spacing out. "You look tired. Maybe you should just get some rest." Brett crossed to the couch and crawled on beside Mulder. "I think I will." He slipped his arm around her and gave Scully a funny look. Brett was rarely so complacent. She'd stay up all night and be dead tired before letting them tell her what to do. And she rarely put herself in such close physical quarters with even him. He wonder if maybe she needed a little comforting. Or if she was sick. She didn't feel warm. But she did snuggle closer to Mulder and put her head down, using him as a pillow. Brett sighed aloud. Mulder didn't miss the exasperated sigh. *Too much* time in the car, he supposed. Brett wasn't accustomed to spending that much time with him or Scully in one sitting--let alone both of them. Brett never made it upstairs. She was too tired from trying to keep up this mental conversation. She trailed off, exhaustion taking its toll. Mulder felt the tension drain from Brett's body. Scully looked across him to their daughter's still form. "Mulder, she's already asleep." Scully wondered how long it had been since she'd watched Brett sleep...and look like she didn't have the weight of the world on her shoulders. "Do you think we should wake her?" "No, can you carry her upstairs?" Mulder scooped Brett up and followed Scully upstairs. She turned back the covers on one of the beds and Mulder deposited Brett into it. Brett shifted and then stilled. He kissed the top of her head and turned to leave. Scully pulled the covers up around her, shutting out the light. Before leaving she whispered, "Sleep well, baby," and smoothed the girl's hair. ************ end part 9 ------------------------------ From: Kay Hewes Date: Tue, 04 Jun 1996 23:52:15 -0500 Subject: The Persistence of Memory: Part 10/? -- Revelations sorry it's been so long in coming. i have a horrible head cold that will not go away. the sounds of my keyboard seem extremely amplified...so i'm wearing earmuffs and typing it anyway! DISCLAIMER: return to sender... .....YOU KNOW THE REST ********************************* The Persistence of Memory: Part 10/? -- Revelations by kay Brett could feel someone was in the room with her and buried her head further under the pillow. That someone was speaking. Oh, God, she felt tired. Every bone in her body ached. Why wouldn't the person just let her sleep? "Hey, sleepyhead? Are you going to grace us with your presence today?" Peeking out from under the pillow, Brett could make out Mulder standing over her. "No, I'm going to stay here all day." Finally, she sat up and coughed. Why was her throat sore? She must have been getting a cold. "It's after nine. You've been asleep for practically twelve hours." Mulder sat on the bed beside her. "I must have been really out of it." Her voice sounded funny, like there was wet cotton stuffed in her ears. Mulder noticed the sniffling and congestion. "Are you sick?" "No, I think I'm getting a cold." Brett tried to clear her throat. "I'll be down in a few minutes. What are you guys up to?" "We're going to run into town and pick up the equipment we rented. "Skis, boat, the whole works. Maybe a tent and other supplies. Do you still want to hike and camp out overnight?" "Yeah, I guess." "Okay, see you downstairs." ****************************************** Scully was pouring coffee, Mulder burning toast when Brett padded in, still wearing the sweatpants and t-shirt from last night. "Did you sleep well?" Scully asked, offering her a glass of orange juice. Brett made a face but took it anyway. "Yeah, I guess." She sneezed twice and started couphing. The orange juice burned her throat. Uuugghhh. "Your dad says you're getting sick. Come let me see if you have a fever." Brett scooted closer to scully and dumped the juice into the sink behind her back. "You feel pretty warm. But it's probably just the altitude and weather changes. Plus, you've been asleep. Your body's at its warmest right now. Does anything hurt?" "My throat and ears. I'll be better once I get awake. Why don't you guys go into town without me? I'll stay inside until you get back. And I have my cellular so you can call me." Brett opened a cold Coke, getting a look from Scully. "Well, that may not be such a bad idea," Scully responded. "The forecast says it may rain a little. If it does, the temperature will drop. Before you shower, will you bring some wood inside? Unless you don't feel like it." "No, I can get it. How long will you be gone?" Brett walked to the door with them. "Not long. So don't even *think* of slipping off," Mulder warned. Brett wrinkled her nose. "What kind of trouble could I get into?" Mulder just grimaced. "I'm sure you could find something. But *don't* *even* *think* about it." ******************************************** Brett was slippping on a sweatshirt when she remembered the 'voice'. The voice sounded a little irritated. Brett got defensive. She opened the door to the cabin and looked around. Thunder rumbled and the sky lit up in a flash of lightning. Brett couldn't help but wonder where 'here' was. Okay, so that was a farfetched idea. But then, this whole thing was pretty unbelievable. Brett picked up a couple of logs from the woodpile and started back towards the cabin. The voice hesitated. Brett headed back to the wood pile. Brett picked up more logs and looked out towards the wooded area surrounding the lake. There was a figure coming towards her. She took the logs back to their cabin and decided to make one more trip. The figure she had seen had reached the top of the hill, and was actually a girl, who looked about Brett's age. Brett noticed the girl was leaning against a tree next to the wood pile and took in her worn, wet clothing. She was shivering and the rain was coming down harder. "Hi," Brett said uncertainly. Why would anyone be wandering around in this weather. She was so focused on the girl that she forgot about keeping the connection with the voice. The girl looked around behind her at the sound of Brett's voice. She turned back to Brett. "Uh, hi." Brett wondered about her strange behavior. "What are you doing out here in the rain? You're completely soaked." "Well, I--" the girl started. "Are you lost? Do you want to use my phone to call someone?" Brett picked up another log. "No, I...well, I'm locked out of our cabin." The girl pushed wet brown hair out of her eyes. "Oh, why didn't you say so. We're staying in that cabin." Brett pointed it out. "Do you want to come inside with me? You can get dry and wait out the storm. Maybe your parent will be back by then." The girl gave a half smile. "That would be great. Do you need help with the logs?" She picked one up. "Thanks. My parents are in town for the morning." Brett started back towards the cabin. "Thought we may have to light a fire before the day was over." She paused. "I'm Brett, by the way." The girl just looked at her, so she continued. "What's your name?" "Sa--Sarah." "Nice to meet you, Sarah." Brett dumped the logs and went into the living room, just in time for the bottom to drop out of the sky. "Wow, I'm glad we came in when we did." Thunder rumbled and the sky lit up again. Brett shrugged out of her sweatshirt and slipped her shoes off. "Why don't you come upstairs? You can shower and get warm. You're a little taller than I am, but I'm sure I can find some sweatpants to fit you. And a warm shirt." Sarah looked hesitant, then slipped off her sneakers and followed Brett. Brett showed her the bathroom and gaver her a huge towel. "You should have everything you need in there. All my stuff is in there--feel free to use any of it. There's a blowdryer on the vanity. I'll leave you some clothes and go make tea. Do you drink tea?" Sara nodded. "Thank you," she said, closing the door behind her. Brett heard the shower come on as she put black sweatpants, a t-shirt, thick socks, and an oversized flannel button up on the extra bed. ************************************** Mulder hung up the phone and looked at Scully. "Mudslide warning. We can't make it back up to the cabin while it's still raining--especially with the boat." Scully looked annoyed. This was just their luck. "I guess we should call Brett. Tell her we'll be back as soon as we can." Mulder nodded and dialed the number, slipping an arm around Scully. "Brett, it's me." Brett was standing in the kitchen when her cellular phone rang. "Hi, Dr. Spock. What's up?" She noticed Sarah coming down the stairs and motioned to her. "We're stuck in town because of the rain. Is everything okay there?" He sounded far away. Brett couldn't tell if it was because the connection was bad or because her ears were stopped up. "Yes, everything's fine." "Hold on. Your mom wants to talk to you." Brett heard a shuffling as the phone changed hands. "Hi, Brett. Are you feeling better?" "A little. I'm about to take a shower. Oh, Mom? I met a girl who is staying in another cabin. Her parents are in town, I think, and she got locked out. So she's here with me. Her name is Sarah." Scully hesitated. "Oh, okay, I guess. Call us if you need anything. And do *NOT* go outside." "I won't." Brett rolled her eyes for Sarah's benefit. "Are you sure everything is all right?" Scully sounded concerned. "Yes, Mom. We've got it under control. The men are coming over soon." Scully could hear the smile in her daughter's voice. "Well, save one for me. After this, I may have to trade Mulder in." "Aww, Mom. You can't do that. I've gotten sort of attached to him." Brett could hear her father grumbling in the background and her mother laughing. "I guess you're right. He does sort of grow on you." Suddenly Brett heard her father's voice again. "You be very very good, young lady. Or we'll put you under house arrest until you are thirty. And stop giving your mother crazy ideas." "Yes, SIR!" Brett hung up the phone and smiled at Sarah. "Parents," she sighed. "What are we to do with them? So, are the clothes okay?" "Yes, thank you." Cleaned up, the girl was quite pretty, wavy brown hair cascading down her back. "I'm going to shower now. If you're hungry, help yourself to whatever. Otherwise, we can throw something together later. My parents are stuck in town until the storm lets up." Brett turned to go upstairs. "I'll just wait for you," Sarah said. ************************************** Twenty minutes later, Brett was dressed in grey leggings and one of Scully's oversized sweatshirts. She swiped a ponytail holder for her hairs as she flipped out the light. Only then did she notice the jewelry on the bathroom counter. Turning the light back on, she picked up the necklace and ring to inspect them. The necklace had a gold catcher's mitt suspended from it and looked a little tarnished. Must've been well-worn. The ring, however, sent chills down Brett's spine. It was identical to the one the woman on the sidewalk had given her. Feeling uneasy, Brett descended the stairs. Sarah was sitting on the couch, flipping through a photo album. Brett wondered idly why her parents had brought it up here with them. Maybe they planned to add the pictures from this trip to it. Sarah glance up when she heard Brett. "Hi. Do you feel better?" "Yes, thank you. Oh, you left your jewelry upstairs." Brett watched the girl intently as she handed her the necklace and ring. "Oh, thanks." Sarah slipped the ring on and fastened the necklace around her neck, fingering the catcher's mitt. She pointed to a picture of Scully and Brett on a beach in southern California. They were both wearing black cat's eye sunglasses and had their hair up in ponytails. "Is that your sister?" "No, that's my mother." Brett sat down beside her. "Oh, she looks young," Sarah commented. "Both of my parents look young for their age, I guess." "Well, I really couldn't tell with the sunglasses on." Sarah turned the page, and Brett noticed that the girl's ring had turned a brilliant shade of blue. "This is your father?" Sarah was pointing to a picture of Mulder looking up at something in the sky. Brett was standing beside him, holding the string to a kite. "Yes. That was the same trip as the other picture." Brett looked at the pictures. They were only a couple of years old. "You look a lot like your mom," Sarah pointed out. "I guess so," Brett replied. "You guys look very close. Your family, I mean." "I guess." Brett studied her intently. "Aren't you close to your family?" "I don't know. No, I guess not." Sarah looked uncomfortable. Brett tried to take advantage of the impending silence to get a reading of the girl's thoughts, but she found it impossible. Then she remembered how abruptly she had forgotten the voice when Sarah had shown up. She hoped the voice hadn't zapped to another place already. Brett tried to reach out, but felt nothing. She tried again and felt a slight sensation, but couldn't hold onto it. Sarah looked at her sharply. Brett mentally shook herself, then returned her attention to Sarah. "Do you want to fix something to eat with me?" "Sure." "Okay...." Brett rummaged through the kitchen. "I don't cook much. Neither do my parents, for that matter. We have burnt toast from earlier...my dad's specialty. How about grilled cheese sandwiches?" "Sounds fine to me." Sarah just looked at her. Brett made the sandwiches quickly and got out some cold Cokes. She was pretty much addicted to Cokes. "How old are you?" she asked Sarah. "Uh, well, fifteen." Sara looked uncomfortable again. Brett pursed her lips. She wasn't giving up that easily. There was something strange about this girl. "So am I. Where do you go to school?" "Well...." "You do go to school, don't you?" "Sort of..." Brett was getting frustrated. These were not difficult questions. "Okay, how about a simpler question. Where are you from?" Sarah didn't answer. Brett took a deep breath. "You're not really staying in another cabin here, are you?" "Well, no, not exactly." Sarah finally met her gaze. "Okay, so, are you in some kind of trouble?" Brett prodded. The girl's lower lip trembled. "I...I don't know," she stammered. Oh God. Please don't let her cry. "Why don't you tell me what it is, and maybe we can do something about it," Brett offered. Sarah really looked miserable. "I can't. You'll think I'm crazy." "Everyone's a little crazy. It doesn't matter what I think. You need someone to talk to and I promise that I pose no threat to you." Sara took a lon shuddery breath. "Okay, I, well, I don't know how I got here. I don't know *where* my family is. I haven't seen them since....since I was a little girl." Brett felt realization dawning, but didn't want to give herself away just yet. "So... you just woke up here? Or what?" "Well, I just...show up place and don't know how I got there. And then, there's this...voice, in my head. Like I can hear another person's thoughts." Now Brett's suspicions had been confirmed. She didn't know how or why this had happened, but the other girl was obviously very upset and scared. Not to mention that she hadn't had any human contact in years, if what she had said last night was actually true. "Let me ask you something, Sarah. This voice, does it....sort of control where you end up?" Sarah looked startled. "Well, yeah. How did you know?" "Do you hear the voice now?" "Well, no. Not since...not since I ran into you." "And the first time this happened....did you end up at DisneyWorld?" Sarah's mouth dropped open. "Oh my God. It was you?" Brett wasn't very calm herself, but she tried not to betray that. "I, I think so. My parents took me to DisneyWorld when I was seven or eight, I think." "That's about how old I was when I disappeared. Do you...do you think I'm going to zap out of here again?" Sarah looked frightened again. "No, I don't think so. Let's just try to think calmly. What's your last name? Maybe we can actually get you home again when my mom and dad get back." Brett leaned across the table, resting on her elbows. Sarah didn't respond. "Sarah, what's your last name? Do you remember where you lived when you were little?" Brett looked at her expectantly. "Brett, I sort of lied about my name. I was scared and it seemed like the thing to do at the time." Sarah fidgeted. "Well, that's understandable," Brett replied slowly. "Can you tell me now?" "I guess. My name is Samantha. Samantha Mulder. People used to call me Sam when I was little because Samantha was such a big name." *************** end part 10 ------------------------------