Through the Looking Glass by Lovesfox Headers in Prologue Part 1 ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~* Diary of Liza MacGregor April 10, 1872 I have been scorned. John has forsaken me for another woman, one younger and far fairer of face than I. She is a newcomer to our town, delicate and fragile and beautiful, all that I am not. He has broken our betrothal, arranged since we were in the cradle, saying he has sworn himself to Rose Daniels now. Though I tried to remain nonchalant, I could not help but say to him that beauty alone did not a good union make. He laughed at me, and said to me that my jealousy of Rose was unbecoming, and that his happiness should be paramount. I wanted to ask him how I could be happy when my heart has broken. Their wedding date has already been set. I vow that I shall not attend. ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~* Present Day Dana Scully's Apartment Georgetown, D.C. Friday, May 20, 2000 6:20 PM Dana Scully sank back into the bubbles with a weary sigh, her head resting on the edge of her tub, hair pinned up loosely. Small tendrils were already curling moistly around her face from the heat of the water. The night was still young, but she did not care. She had been looking forward to relaxing in a long bubble bath all day. For some reason this particular Friday had seemed to take forever to end, from the snarl of traffic that resulted from an early morning accident on her way to the J. Edgar Hoover Building that morning, to the endless paperwork she and Mulder had struggled through. After locking her door, she had immediately headed to her bathroom to run the tub, and then gone to her bedroom to undress, leaving her clothes lying in a heap on the floor. Slowly, the muscles of her body relaxed, and her eyes slipped closed. Faint strains of music from the CD she had put on her stereo drifted down the hallway. She hummed along lightly, enjoying the melody. Lazily, she lifted one leg out of the water and stroked her toes up and down the other leg, enjoying the slick feel of the bubbles on her skin. A nice glass of wine would have been the perfect accompaniment, she mused. Unfortunately she had forgotten that she had finished the bottle of Merlot last weekend, and had not picked up another one. On the other hand, it was just as well, she thought. The way she felt right then, one glass would have her asleep in minutes. She shifted slightly in the tub, one knee poking up through the bubbles. The sudden, shrill ring of her cellular phone disturbed the peacefulness of the moment, and Scully mentally berated herself for even bringing the damn thing in the bathroom with her. Briefly, she contemplated not answering; almost positive it was Mulder, and then sighed, knowing the chances were good that if she did not pick up the phone, he would come over. She also knew, if she had not brought it in with her, she probably would have struggled out of the tub and run dripping to answer it. Sitting up slowly, shivering as the cooler air brushed over her exposed shoulders, she reached for the phone, which was sitting on the folded towel on the toilet. Pressing send, she said, "Scully." "Hey, Scully. I didn't catch you at a bad time, did I?" Mulder's voice was cheerful, with not a hint of contriteness detectable. He did not allow her to answer, but merely continued on. "Got any plans this weekend?" Scully sighed again, allowing herself to sink back down into the water, the elbow of her arm that held the phone propped on the rim of the tub. There was a slight sloshing sound as she did so, and she stilled, hoping Mulder had not heard. The hope was futile; her partner had ears like a bat. "Scully, whatcha doin?" he asked, his voice suddenly an octave lower. There was a pause, and then, "Are you taking a bath, Scully?" Scully nearly groaned. "Yes, Mulder, I'm taking a bath." She closed her eyes as the other end went silent. She could just imagine the lines he was trying out in his mind. A part of her wanted to hear them, to feel a thrill from the images that were occasionally a result of his come-ons. Reclining on his couch in his apartment across town, Mulder stopped talking as his very active mind provided him with a picture of his partner, wet and naked in her tub. In a bubble bath, he knew Scully loved bubble baths. Her red hair was pinned up haphazardly, with those little curls that looked so sexy around her face, her white skin dewy and surrounded by bubbles. Bubbles that were rapidly evaporating, revealing tantalizing glimpses of more skin. He swallowed thickly, feeling very warm. "Mulder?" Hearing Scully's voice say his name somewhat sharply snapped him out of his fantasy. Fantasy? He shook his head. He was not fantasizing about his partner. First clearing his throat, he replied, hoping his voice did not sound as husky to Scully as it did in his ears. "Uh, sorry, Scully, thought there was someone at the door." Good thinking, Mulder, he thought. One hand came up to drag through his already spiky hair. "What did you want, Mulder?" Scully asked, rubbing her other hand over her eyes. She smothered a yawn as she waited for Mulder to answer. "Um, I wanted to know if you had any plans this weekend, Scully," Mulder replied. Scully had this sudden feeling she should say yes, make up something, anything. She hesitated too long and he continued on, sounding pleased. "Actually, I just realized I asked you that this morning, and you said 'Not a thing, Mulder. Just relaxing and catching up on a good book'," Mulder quoted. Scully's eyes opened, and she almost groaned out loud. She had said that. She knew Mulder had not called her just to chat. He probably had some crazy UFO sighting he wanted to drag her along to. She had no desire to traipse after him in some god-forsaken woods somewhere in the middle of Nowhere, America. "Mulder..." she began. He interrupted her. "Scully, I know what you're thinking, but honest, it's nothing to do with UFO's or aliens, I swear." He was sitting up now on his couch, his excitement about the article The Lone Gunmen had e-mailed him a couple hours ago stirred up all over again. "What is it then, Mulder?" Scully almost sighed into the phone. "Disappearing women, Scully. The article I read said there were three, but I've done some research, and there's been at least two more, dating back to the late 1950's. It looks like they all stayed at the same bed and breakfast in Nantucket Island, Massachusetts. A place called Starbuck House." His enthusiasm was obvious. Scully had been about to make a quip about haunted houses, but the name 'Starbuck' knocked all such thoughts completely out of her head. Her eyes closed again, tightly, and a picture formed behind closed lids. Ahab, and herself, sitting on the back porch in the fading twilight, reading Moby Dick together. She realized Mulder was still talking, blissfully unaware of his partner's silence and the reason for it. "...booked us rooms there for the weekend. I told one of the owners, John Carrington, we would be arriving late tonight. Our flight out of Dulles is at 7:45, so I'll be at your place in forty minutes, okay?" Mulder continued. A brief pause, and then, "Scully, you still there?" "Yes, Mulder, I'm still here," she replied softly, throat aching with unshed tears. "Um, so where did you get this article you read?" she asked, the words coming out a little more strongly than she had intended as she strove to put her father out of her mind. For now. "The guys sent it to me in an e-mail just after you left," Mulder answered, waiting for Scully's annoyed sigh at the mention of The Lone Gunmen. He did not have long to wait. Scully's breath huffed out as she said, "The Gunmen? Oh, Mulder..." He interrupted whatever she had intended to say. "It's legit, Scully. I called the Police Department on the island and they confirmed that three women have disappeared there in the past 20 years, with the most recent being just over three years ago, in April 1997. The lieutenant I spoke to said we could go through their older records when we got there, to look for other cases." He paused as he scratched at his head, and then said, "Pack casual, Scully, and I'll see you in forty, all right?" So much for her long soak in the tub, and her quiet weekend. But she could rarely, if ever, refuse Mulder. And she had never been to Nantucket before, it was supposed to be quite beautiful. "Yes, Mulder, I'll be ready," she replied, and silently tacked on, 'barely'. The phone disconnected in her ear as Mulder hung up and she pressed end before laying the phone back down on top of the towel. Mulder tossed his phone aside and stood, pumping his fist up and down quickly, elbow bent, to celebrate his victory, before heading into his bedroom to pack. Scully was sometimes a hard sell, but she had caved more quickly than he had thought she would. His foot kicked a pile of dirty clothes as he entered, and he cursed softly as he realized he had forgotten once again to do laundry. With a shrug, he nudged the pile aside and ducked into his closet to lug out his suitcase. Packing would take five minutes, tops, and then he'd be on his way to pick up Scully. ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~* Diary of Liza MacGregor June 2, 1872 The townspeople look upon me with pity, but I hold my head high. They will not see my shame. Nor my hatred. I have commissioned a wedding gift for John and Rose, a handcrafted cheval mirror of cherry wood from the town's finest furniture maker. It is intended as a symbol of my wish for their continued happiness, and a gesture to show all that I am not bitter, or in despair. It is only here in these pages that I can admit that these are falsehoods. ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~* Scully's Apartment 6:40 PM Scully washed herself quickly and pulled the plug with a regretful sigh, once again silently bemoaning the lost opportunity for a long, leisurely soak. Stepping carefully onto the fluffy bathmat, she dried off with the matching large, plush towel and then re-hung it neatly on the towel rack. After smoothing lotion on her legs and arms and applying deodorant, she pulled her robe on. Tying the sash as she walked into her bedroom, the sound of the water and bubbles swirling down the drain in her ears, she made her way to her dresser to retrieve undergarments. In her mind she was compiling a mental checklist of the items she would need to add to her suitcase. Remembering suddenly with a muttered curse, that her 'ready-to-go on a moment's notice' suitcase was not so ready, she grumbled under her breath. She had emptied it out and given it a thorough cleaning after their last field trip several weeks ago, and had never gotten around to completely re-packing it. Glancing at the clock on her nightstand, she grimaced. She now had less than forty minutes to pack, fix her hair, get dressed and grab a quick bite to eat. Airplane food for dinner really did not appeal to her. Her stomach growled then, loudly, and she revised her schedule. Not eating when she needed to always made her feel out of sorts. Slipping her robe off and tossing it on the end of the bed, she donned a bra and panties set before entering her closet. A few moments later she re-emerged dressed in casual black pants and a black button-down sweater. She retrieved a pair of black dress socks from another dresser drawer, sat on the bed to slip them on, and then hurried down the hall to the kitchen. Fortunately she had the makings of a decent salad, which she threw together after putting the kettle on for a cup of tea. She ate her dinner leaning against the counter, one eye on the clock. She also started thinking about the case they were going to investigate, about the disappearing women as Mulder had termed them. The possibility that the women had been staying at the same place, the bed and breakfast Inn called Starbuck House, was certainly interesting and intriguing. Recalling that she had been about to tease Mulder about haunted houses until the name of the Inn had registered, she thought about the many files on various hauntings and phenomenon she had accumulated over her years on the X-Files. It couldn't hurt to have such information on hand. Quickly and efficiently taking care of her dinner dishes, she headed over to her desk to retrieve those files. It took only moments to do so, thanks to her innate sense of order and tidy filing system, and with files in hand, she returned to her bedroom to stow them in her briefcase. Time passed in a blur as she finished her packing and tidied up her apartment, and the next thing Scully knew, she was hearing Mulder's familiar and steady knock on her door. With one last finger-comb through her hair, she left the bathroom and went down the hall. A quick peek through the peephole to confirm it was indeed Mulder revealed her partner standing there in his black leather jacket. She threw the deadbolt and opened the door, already turning away to get her own jacket as he crossed the threshold. Mulder smiled, giving Scully the once over, taking in her semi- casual attire –- the coloring of which matched his own -- and opened his mouth to greet her. But as she was already heading back down the hall, he closed his mouth again and stuffed his hands in the pockets of his black jeans to wait. "One minute, Mulder," Scully called over her shoulder. Picking up her black, all-weather trench coat off the small bench in the hallway, she shrugged into it as she walked back to the door. "Sorry about that," she told her partner. "I was running a bit behind." At his accepting nod and smile, she bent to pick up her laptop carrier and briefcase. Mulder grabbed her suitcase and they headed out, Scully locking the door behind them. *** End Part 1