Through the Looking Glass by Lovesfox Headers in Prologue Part 10 ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~* Diary of Liza MacGregor April 15, 1890 It has been two years since Rose passed on. After a respectable period of mourning, I offered comfort to John. He rebuffed me. My anger and need for revenge are great, but his continued lamentation for his dear departed Rose is a balm to my spirit. I will yet play the friend, the confidant, to the motherless Marie Rose. Her time will come. ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~* Starbuck House Saturday, May 21, 2000 9:45 PM The rain was coming down a little bit harder as Mulder parked next to one of the Carrington's vehicles. "Hang on, Scully," he told his partner as he shut the engine off. She was in the process of unbuckling her seat belt, and glanced up at him questioningly. "I swear I saw an umbrella in the trunk," he explained to her. "Let me get it." "Mulder, don't worry," Scully responded with bemusement and a touch of humor. "I won't melt." "Scully, I'm trying to be a gentleman here," he wisecracked. "Besides, I don't want to get my hair wet." Waggling his eyebrows, he added, "Wait, okay?" When she nodded her acquiescence, after first rolling her eyes, he quickly unbuckled his seatbelt, popped the trunk and then opened the door. Ducking his head down, he shut the door and hurried to the trunk, thankful for the dim light that illuminated the otherwise darkened space. His memory had been spot-on. Grabbing up the wood-handled umbrella, he slammed the trunk closed and moved around the car to Scully's door. As he was lifting a hand to tap on her window, he just happened to glance up and in the direction of the back of the Inn. Something moved. Letting his hand drop, he took a few steps forward, blinking the rain from his eyes and squinting to try and see more clearly. It didn't really help, though he could now make out what looked like a rain-coated figure moving through the yard. He took another step, and another, and then stopped when he heard Scully's voice, though he kept his eyes on the shape, which was now at the back fence. Exactly where he had seen the cleverly concealed gate the night before during his exploration of the grounds. Scully watched the blurry figure of her partner rounding the car through the side mirror and turned her head to see his hand rising towards the window. He paused, and then stepped away, staring off somewhere. Her curiosity piqued, she rolled the window down slightly, shivering and closing her eyes briefly when the cold rain pelted her face, trying to see what Mulder was doing. Which was apparently just standing there. Now she watched him move further away, and rolled the window down another two inches, bringing her head close to the fogged up glass. "Mulder?" she called. "What's wrong?" He stopped, but did not turn around, instead remained standing still, with his back to her. Though he did hold up one hand, silently asking her to wait. After a moment, he came back to the car, bending down so his face was only inches from hers, through the barrier of the partially opened window. She quirked her eyebrow at him, urging him to speak. "I saw someone, Scully," he said, jerking his thumb back over his shoulder, pointing at the back of the Inn. She shrugged, puzzled, questioning him with her eyes. "At this time of night and in this weather, Scully?" Mulder continued. "Going through the secret gate I found last night and into the woods? Don't you find that a bit unusual?" When he put it that way, with that slightly sarcastic, interrogative slant to the words, yes it was unusual. She nodded slowly, and reached for her door handle. Mulder beat her to it, yanking it open. "You coming?" he asked. "Yes," she replied, sliding out of the car when he stood back, his arm braced on the doorframe. "But we can't go like this." With a sweep of her arm she indicated her attire, and then his own. "Shit!" he muttered, glancing down at his feet. While not wearing dress shoes, they certainly weren't meant for traipsing through the woods in the rain. Nor were Scully's low heels. "Let's go get changed." Slamming her door, he took her elbow, and they dashed across the driveway and along the crushed stone path. Up the porch stairs and inside, both breathing a little heavily and soaked from the rain just from the short trip from car to house. Nancy Carrington was there, dusting the polished counter of the front desk. Pausing, she eyed them oddly, and then greeted them with a polite tone of voice. "Mulder, Miss Scully. I hope you enjoyed dinner." "Yes, we did, Nancy, very much. Thank you again for the recommendation," Mulder replied, guiding Scully towards the staircase leading to their rooms. "If you'll excuse us, we need to get dried off." His feet squelched in his shoes as he moved quickly up the stairs, as close to running as one could get while not actually doing so. Behind him he could hear Scully's shoes making similar noises, and the slight chatter of her teeth. Her door was first, and Mulder saw that she was already opening it as he was struggling to fit his key into the lock. Once inside his room, he kicked his wet shoes off and then nudged the door shut. On his way to his suitcase, he shrugged out of his jacket, tossing it towards the end of the bed. Wiping his rain- dampened fingers on his shirtfront, he fished his wallet and keys out of his pocket and deposited them on the bureau. His shirt was quickly unbuttoned and removed, and before tossing it to join the jacket, he used it to scrub over his face and hair. Shivering with a sudden chill, rivulets of water trickling down his back and chest, he darted into the bathroom and grabbed a towel, pulling the door partway shut behind him. After blotting his skin, he ran the towel over his head several times and then tossed the cloth onto the bed. His pants and briefs were stripped off next, because he'd been soaked right through to his skivvies. Peeling off his socks and letting them fall in wet, inside-out bundles, he scooped the towel up again and dried off his lower body before dropping the terrycloth to the floor. Bending over, stark naked, he rummaged through his suitcase for clean boxer-briefs and a pair of sweat socks. Inside her room, low-lit by the bedside lamp she had turned on before they had left for dinner, Scully shed her clothes quickly after closing her door and locking it, and retrieving a towel from the bathroom. She dried herself briskly and then proceeded to get dressed anew. First donning dark-colored, warm clothing and her fleece-lined Gore-tex jacket, she then sat down on the bed and slipped her feet into her hiking Lacing them up, she retrieved her SIG from her handbag, something she carried so rarely. Pulling the slide back to check the chamber, she watched as a round was racked into the chamber and then clicked on the safety. Gun secured, it was then tucked into the deep, right side pocket of her jacket, leaving it still easily accessible. Next she located her Maglite, which went into the other pocket. Her room key was shoved into her jeans front pocket before she moved into the bathroom to find a scrunchie in her make-up bag. She quickly tied her dampened hair back into a ponytail. Without thinking, she opened the only partially closed bathroom door leading into Mulder's room, and walked in. To stop dead in her tracks, mouth falling open in surprise, and embarrassment. Mulder was less than two feet away, partially bent over and presenting his side profile. He was also completely naked, and in the process of tugging on a pair of boxer-briefs. It was only human nature that her eyes wandered a moment before she turned smartly around, husking out, "I'm sorry, Mulder." In her mind she could still see the arch of his back, and the flex of muscles as the cotton moved up his thighs, and she flushed a little. While still reeling slightly from Scully's unannounced entry and his impromptu and unintentional peep show, Mulder was a little amused by the way her eyes had dipped downward before she had spun around and voiced her apology. He wasn't embarrassed in the least; he was very comfortable with his nudity. Nor was he bothered that she had walked in without knocking. He'd certainly stumbled upon her in various states of dress or undress in their years as partners, though admittedly not quite as undressed as he'd just been. "It's okay, Scully," he told the rigid line of her back as he adjusted himself in the briefs before bending to scoop up the clean socks. They went on quickly, followed by his jeans, tee shirt and a thick, fleecy sweatshirt. "I'm decent," he said then, moving to sit on the edge of the bed to put on his boots. Mulder watched her turn, her eyes carefully averted, before she exhaled noticeably and looked at him, her expression a study in blankness. He held back his grin, and concentrated on tying his laces. When they were done, he stood and found his jacket, Gore-tex like Scully's, shrugging into it with economical motions. His gun was quickly checked and shoved in the back of his waistband, while his flashlight went into his coat pocket. "Let's go," he said, and gestured toward his door. ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~* Diary of Liza MacGregor May 4, 1890 Marie Rose is betrothed to a fine young man by the name of Andrew Dunford. John bursts with pride, while I carry on my pretense and play their supportive friend. ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~* Lobby 10:05 PM Thankfully Nancy was nowhere to be seen when they got downstairs, having descended with quiet steps. How many guests went walking late at night in the cold rain? Letting themselves out the front door, they both slipped their jacket hoods up before moving swiftly down the porch steps and onto the path that ran along the side of the house. There was enough illumination from the lights on inside the house that the flashlights were not necessary until they reached the gate. Shining the light on the ground on their side of the gate, Mulder noted that the wet grass was flattened in two distinctly foot-sized places, as if someone had stood there to open the gate. On the other side, he pointed out deep impressions in the mud that looked like footprints. Footprints that were already filled with water, and slowly disappearing. Finding the discreet latch, Mulder flicked it up and pushed the gate open, gesturing for Scully to proceed through. She did, a slight frown on her face. "Mulder, whomever you saw has a good ten minute lead on us, if not more. With this rain and the darkness, chances are good we could walk right by and not see him or her." Very true. But his curiosity was high. Although he had not been able to see clearly, he had gotten the impression that the figure had been male, and quite tall. John Carrington had immediately sprung to mind. "I know, Scully," he replied, stepping after her and pulling the gate shut again. "And I think it's a him." At her eyebrow lift, he added, "John Carrington." That earned him a surprised blink, and then a slow nod. Hunching her shoulders deeper into her jacket and turning in the direction of the dark woods, Scully began to trudge through the thickening mud. Following the evident path, the one Mulder had described earlier that morning at breakfast. Her mind was busy thinking about their encounters with John Carrington thus far. Nervous and twitchy in Mulder's room that morning, ducking from sight as they had exited the Pharmacy after lunch, and now, out walking in the dark rain. She reaffirmed her thought of that morning -- the man definitely bore watching, as did his sister. She was aware of Mulder just steps behind her as they slogged through the ever-thickening mud, and dodged branches and wet leaves with increasing difficulty. More than once she felt his hand touch her back or shoulder briefly as they traversed a dangerous spot. Rain continued to fall, steadily getting heavier. Visibility was almost nil. It wasn't until Scully had nearly slipped twice and he himself had actually gone down on one knee after tripping on a root that he finally called it quits, knowing the frustration was clear in his voice. "Scully, let's head back. We'll never find him in this damn rain." He'd get no disagreement from her. She was wet, tired and quite chilled. Icy rivulets of rainwater had snaked under the neck of her coat, despite the fact that her hood was up, and set her to shivering, her nose and cheeks numb from the cold. With only a nod as her response to him, her teeth chattering too much to attempt speaking, Scully did an about-face and started back in the direction they had come from, huddled miserably in her jacket. She had not brought gloves, and as she needed her arms free to maintain her balance on the uneven, muddy path, could not tuck her hands in her pockets to warm her fingers. The trek back seemed to take twice as long, her legs aching with the effort of hiking through the mud, but at last she spied the dim lights of Starbuck House. This actually had her moving just a little bit faster, eager to be inside. To be warm and dry again. Mulder was right behind her, and he nudged her aside at the gate, bending slightly to find the latch. Once it was open, he urged her through, following quickly behind, yanking the gate closed after him. Grabbing her elbow, they made their way across the rain- slicked lawn to the side entrance Mulder had used the previous night. The door was unlocked, and opened quietly. After wiping their boots on the thick mat just inside, and carefully shaking the excess water from their coats, they moved through the back hall to the lobby, and started up the stairs. Nancy Carrington was descending, a look of agitation on her face, and stopped midway, as did they. "Miss Scully, Mulder," she said, her voice sounding tight. "It's an awful night to be out." Mulder was wondering if the Innkeeper had seen them outside in the back –- her eyes were both curious and suspicious, darting from him to Scully and back again, clearly taking in their mud-splattered clothing and wet, bedraggled appearance. He tried his charming grin, and said lightly, "I do some of my best thinking while walking, so I dragged Sc-Dana along with me." Scully attempted a smile, but her teeth were still chattering, so it ended up as more of a grimace. She couldn't help but notice that Nancy seemed quite interested in the condition of their attire, staring quite obviously at the mud on their clothes and boots. Of course it could be that she was disturbed at the mess they had tracked in, but Scully didn’t think so. She was almost certain the woman had been watching them somehow, that the Innkeeper knew they had been walking out back in the woods. And that Nancy was disturbed by that fact. Nancy made a 'humph' noise low in her throat, and then said, "Well, the two of you are chilled and wet, I should let you get to your rooms." With that, she started down the stairs once more, managing a small, if somewhat insincere smile as she passed them and murmured, "Good night." Both Mulder and Scully stepped to the side, giving her room, before glancing at each other and then proceeding onward. At their individual room doors, Mulder paused with his already opened, eyeing Scully with a mixture of amusement and sympathy. It appeared she was having trouble inserting her key into the lock, and he realized it was because her hands were shaking from the cold. He could even hear her teeth clicking together from where he stood, almost eight feet away. Despite his own chilled body, he said, "You take the shower first, Scully." She looked over at him gratefully, and gritted her teeth in an effort to smile. "Th-th-thank-you," she chattered, extremely grateful. Her mind had been filled with the thought of standing in the shower stall for hours, with steaming hot water surrounding her body, and she was thankful for the opportunity to do so first. If she weren't so tired and wet and cold, she would have gone over there and hugged him for his thoughtfulness. She hoped he knew she appreciated his considerate gesture. Grinning at her, he shrugged his shoulders, the look on his face telling her he did indeed know. "You're welcome," Mulder replied. "Just let me know when you're done with the bathroom." He gave a small wave and started to step inside his room only to pause as he thought of how he'd like to investigate the woods again, in daylight. He called out softly. "Hey, Scully. Dress for hiking in the morning, okay?" At her grimace of acknowledgment, he chuckled and then entered, shutting the door behind him and locking it. Going immediately to the bathroom to snag one of the larger towels, he took it back into his room, pulling the bathroom door shut, remembering Scully's embarrassment at walking in on him earlier. Not that he had minded. He just didn't want her to think he was flashing her on purpose, teasing her about the incident. Removing his boots and stripping down to just his boxers, Mulder swiped the towel over his face before rubbing his body dry. Tossing the now damp terry cloth onto the floor by the bathroom door, he moved to dig through his suitcase yet again for dry clothing. After pulling on a pair of track pants and a tee shirt, he retrieved his notepad and a pen, and reclined on the bed, the pillows stuffed behind his back for support. It was too wet for a run, he was too wired to sleep yet, so it was as good a time as any to jot some notes about the case. He and Scully needed to sit down and go through everything at some point, perhaps in the afternoon, after they had seen Dave Collingsworth. *** End Part 10