Through the Looking Glass by Lovesfox Headers in Prologue Part 9 ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~* Diary of Liza MacGregor March 22, 1888 Rose yet lingers. Why does the cursed woman not succumb? Her suffering is no longer enough to appease me. I must take further action. ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~* Jared Coffin House 29 Broad Street Saturday, May 21, 2000 6:35 PM Their dinner reservation was for seven o'clock, but Mulder had planned for an early arrival. When telling him of some favorite places to dine, Nancy had mentioned that there was a cupola on the roof of the Jared Coffin House, with a beautiful view of the harbor, and he had been sold. Besides intriguing him, he had known Scully would love it. Luckily there was a parking spot available approximately a block away from the restaurant, and he directed the rental into it smoothly, cutting the engine. A gentle slam had him realizing Scully was already out of the car. Hustling to get out and shut his door, he rounded the car with a look of mock dejection on his face. "Scully," he said with some disappointment. "You didn't let me get the door for you." Scully turned from admiring the street at the sound of the other car door closing, and watched Mulder rush around the front hood to stand before her, a playful pout on his lips. His statement was puzzling. "Mulder, you never open the door for me," she said baldly in reply, eyeballing him with some concern. Then the meaning sank in and she blinked, making a moue of her lips, feeling an odd fluttering in her lower belly. "Unless this is a date?" Her voice sounded both nervous and slightly intrigued, Mulder thought. The idea of being on a date with Scully left him with similar feelings, and he wasn't yet ready to delve into such matters. So he equivocated, of course. "Just wanted to show you I can be a gentleman, that's all," he told her, and surprising the both of them, offered her his arm. After only the slightest of hesitations and a mystified smile, Scully curled her hand around his bicep. They strolled companionably along the sidewalk, Mulder telling Scully all about Jared Coffin House. "Jared Coffin was a prominent, successful ship owner who built what was the Island's first three-storey mansion in 1845," he related. "Various owners expanded the property over time, which now totals six buildings. Along with Jared's, the restaurant we'll be dining at, there's a more casual dining area called The Tap Room, banquet facilities and the Inn itself, with over sixty guest rooms." "It sounds lovely," Scully replied, glancing his way with a small smile. She was amused by, and very interested in this side of her partner, one rarely seen. Just then, the stately building they were almost upon caught her attention. Slowing, she released her hold on Mulder's arm and stepped away from him, her head tilted back to study the Jared Coffin House. Restrained elegance were the words that came to her mind. Simple yet refined, the building was like many on the Island, brown- bricked and of the Federal style. "You have wonderful taste, Mulder," she murmured, and turned her head to the side to look at him. Her face immediately went hot, though the waning light of early evening thankfully hid that fact. He was staring at her ass. Lifting his gaze to meet her eyes, Mulder grinned unabashedly. For some reason he was not disturbed in the least to have been caught by Scully in the process of admiring her figure. "Yes, I do," he replied softly, unrepentantly. Referring not to the restaurant, but to Scully herself. Ducking her head shyly, Scully took a deep breath before meeting his eyes once more. Uncertain exactly how to proceed, she decided ignoring the situation and his comment was her best response. "Shall we?" she asked, her voice calm, and indicated the restaurant with a nod of her chin. Mulder smiled faintly and stepped forward, curling his hand under her elbow. He would not push her. "We shall," he answered, and led her past two square-shaped stone pillars at the bottom of the stairs. They climbed up the stone steps slowly, her free hand trailing along the black wrought iron railing, and under the white portico, held up by two graceful ionic columns. Once inside, Scully admired the ocean-themed artwork in the entryway, while Mulder gave his name to the smiling hostess. The atmosphere was one of elegance and intimacy, sending a slight twinge of tension through her. Which was utterly ridiculous. It was just dinner with her partner, and they'd eaten together in numerous environs; in hundreds of restaurants, cafes and God help her, even truck stops. She caught snippets of the conversation between Mulder and the hostess -- the words 'staircase' and 'down that hall' -- and wondered what Mulder had planned. A moment later, he was at her side, his hand cupping her elbow once more. Leaning into Scully, Mulder murmured, "We're a bit early, so our table's not ready yet. Walk with me." She eyed him inquisitively, but acquiesced without a word, yielding to the slight pressure on her arm, letting him guide her down a hallway and through a discreet doorway. It led to a narrow staircase, and Mulder indicated she should start up the stairs. She did so, with him a step behind, but her natural curiosity would not let her remain silent. Glancing over her shoulder she asked, "Mulder, where are we going?" The smile he flashed at her, while charming and flirtatious, was as cryptic as his reply, "You'll see." He was certainly acting differently this evening Scully mused to herself -– relaxed, playful, not totally consumed by the case -- and had to admit she liked it, even while it confounded her. As they reached the top of the stairs, she realized they had reached their destination, and were actually in a cupola, on the roof of the building. The enclosure was square-shaped, with windows on all four sides, affording a 360-degree view. With the apparent onset of rain, it was much cooler than it had been while they walked along the street, and she was glad she had chosen to wear her blazer again, over her long-sleeved, turtleneck sweater. She noticed that Mulder appeared unaffected by the now damp chill in the air, despite the fact that he wore only a casual, button-down shirt and a sport coat. The resultant clouds unfortunately diminished the full effect of the cupola. Still, they were able to see the wharves and a few diehard sail boaters out on the water, as well as the surrounding residential area. To the northeast, they could make out the hazy outline of a lighthouse, which Mulder murmured was called Brant Point. "This is really nice, Mulder," Scully said as she watched a boat coming into one of the wharves. He was standing very close beside her, his attention also focused on the activity at the docks, a warm presence at her side. Something else she was enjoying. It was not necessary for him to be so close, the cupola was not overly large –- the two of them fit comfortably, with maneuverability, and it was possible another one or two people could join them. Thankfully though, no one had, they had the small structure to themselves. "Yeah, it is," he agreed quietly, leaning into her to nudge her gently with his upper arm, fighting the temptation to wrap it around her shoulders and tuck her into his body. "We don't do things like this often enough, Scully." "No, we don't." She turned her head to find him regarding her with affectionate eyes, and her answering smile was warm. "Thank-you for inviting me to dinner, Mulder." "You're welcome," he responded, smiling back. After a moment or so, he glanced at his watch, quirking an eyebrow at her. "Speaking of dinner, I think we should head back down, our table should be ready now." She nodded, and looked out to sea one last time before turning and starting carefully downward, Mulder once again a step behind her. ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~* Diary of Liza MacGregor March 28, 1888 It is done. I rejoice, for Rose is dead. I went to visit her this morning, and made her tea from my special herbs, as I have for many days now. Little-known herbs that I grow in secret, ones that do more harm than good. We talked, and I again told her of the curse I had placed upon her so many years ago. I took her to the mirror, proudly displayed in a guest bedroom, and told her it was the cause of all her pain and her suffering. Weakened further by my herbs, she had little strength. I forced her to touch the mirror, and Rose gasped in pain and fear, and then fainted. Laying her upon the bed, I left her there, and made my way home. It is there that the news of her death was brought to me, hours later. ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~* Jared Coffin House 7:05 PM Their table was indeed ready, complete with linen napkins and candlelight, and a somewhat formal ambiance. The same hostess whom Mulder had spoken to upon their arrival escorted them to a cozy spot at the back of the restaurant, laying a menu down at each place setting. Once they had taken their seats, she informed them their waiter would just be a moment and then excused herself. Scully had been surprised once more, even as she was appreciating their surroundings. For Mulder had courteously seated her before taking his own chair across the table. A gentlemanly gesture that she could not recall him ever offering her, it was both flattering and almost a little overwhelming. As the hostess had stated, the waiter was there in moments, negating the need for much small talk. The young man introduced himself, and once Mulder had declined a look at the wine list, described the selections on that evening's menu. Before he departed to give them time to decide, they both ordered ice water. Those were brought in no short order. Opening the embossed menu, Scully glanced at the prices and could not help her reaction –- the slight rise of her eyebrows. At a sound from Mulder, she looked up to see that he was regarding her with amusement. Although there were times he could not read his partner at all –- enigmatic indeed –- there were occasions when her every thought was crystal clear. Lowering his own menu, Mulder leaned forward a little and quietly voiced, "Don't worry, Scully. I'm good for it." Her wicked side mused that he was probably very, very good... Scully had to duck her head down to hide the pinking of her cheeks. Where had that stray sexual thought come from? Reaching out for her water, she took a long drink, conscious of Mulder's eyes upon her. Deciding not to tease her any further, Mulder resumed his perusal of the menu as Scully was returning her glass to the table. His choice was made almost instantly. Laying the menu aside, he let his gaze wander over the artwork on the walls of the restaurant, many of which were paintings of whaling ships, once an enormously profitable industry on Nantucket Island. Their waiter had apparently been hovering, because the moment Scully lowered her menu to the table, he was there. Mulder ordered the Grilled Black Angus Sirloin, well done, with a Classic Caesar salad as a starter, while Scully chose the Seared Tuna and Shrimp, and New England Chowder. While waiting, they quietly discussed what they had learned, and the route the investigation needed to take. Mulder was keen on the offered opportunity to speak to the retired officer, and mused that they should perhaps return to the Pharmacy and see if Joe or any other locals might be willing to chat. Scully nodded, saying it was a sound idea, and voiced her intent to speak to Essie Dunford. She then proposed that they speak to both Nancy and John Carrington; with the suggestion they profess to have heard about the disappearances while in town. It was Mulder's turn to nod his agreement, and before he could speak again, their waiter arrived with the appetizers. Sharing a look of anticipation and hunger, they dug in without further ado. Conversation was minimal while they ate, and in no time at all, they were both finished. The timing was perfect –- not many minutes after the waiter had cleared the dishes from their appetizers, he was returning with the entrees, steaming plates that smelled delicious. He presented each one with a flourish, placing Scully's before her first, and then asked them if they had changed their mind about the wine, or if there was anything else they needed. Once they had assured him everything was fine, he departed with a polite nod, leaving them to their dinner. After taking a sip of his water, Mulder started a conversation. Partly because he did not want to have spent most of the evening discussing their case, and partly because he wanted to get her in a good mood before he put forth a request she might balk at. "So, Scully," he murmured casually as he began cutting a bite of steak. "I thought I'd have to beat off an admirer of yours today." In the process of lifting a forkful of orzo from her plate, Scully looked up at him quickly, confusion and curiosity evident in her eyes. "I beg your pardon?" "Officer Marston..." he began, admiring the haughty tone she employed, and then modified by saying with teasing inflection, "Samuel." Smiling inwardly at, and oddly comforted by the brief flare of alarm in her eyes, he continued. "Samuel was giving me the third degree on our way to the Town Hall. Wanted to know if you were seeing anyone. I got the impression he wanted to ask you on a date." "Really," was her only response. The dry tone matched the look on her face. Enjoying himself, he said, "Mm-hmmm." Knowing she was waiting for him to expound on the topic, he took his time with the cooked-to-perfection piece of meat, chewing slowly, savoring the flavor. Scully realized Mulder was having just a bit too much fun with this, for the second time that day, and decided payback was in order. Feigning interest and a touch of enthusiasm, she mused aloud, "Hmmmm. Perhaps I should give Samuel a call after we've finished our dinner, see if he wants to go for a drink with me. I've got his number in my bag, right here." Mulder nearly choked, and had to take a large gulp of water, swallowing quickly. Putting the glass down, he met his partner's very amused eyes, saw the smile playing about her lips. "Not nice," he chided, tsk-tsking at her. "And you were, I suppose?" She toasted him with her raised fork, and then brought the orzo to her mouth. "I was the soul of discretion," he returned. "Told him you had sworn off men, that you were steps away from joining a nunnery." Her laughter broke free, surprisingly loud in their quiet, intimate corner, drawing looks from more than a few patrons. It transformed her –- made her eyes sparkle, her cheeks flush with color. Mulder blinked, and realized he was staring at her. Flashing a grin, he returned her toast with another bite of his steak. When he had finished it, he told her, "Actually, I told Marston your personal life was your own business." "Oh," she responded, her fork halfway to her plate again. Giving him a tight smile, she murmured, "Well, thank-you, Mulder." An odd silence reigned for a few minutes as they both studied their plates, eating quietly. Neither looking at the other. Uncomfortable, and feeling as if he'd made a gaffe somehow, Mulder tried a new topic. "I spoke to Lisa again, when we got back to the Inn earlier." Scully's eyes flashed relief at him, and she quirked an eyebrow. "Did you learn anything else?" "She confirmed that the rooms were once known by names, the names of flowers," he replied, still wondering how to couch his request to have her switch rooms with him. "And?" Her eyebrow rose higher. "And," he said, drawing the word out, "the room you are staying in was the Rose Room." His eyes intent on her face, he watched as she reacted with barely a flicker, and realized she had already made the connection. Scully had suspected that was the case. She was also fairly certain she knew what he was going to say next, and decided to beat him to the punch. "There is no need for me to switch rooms with you, Mulder." "But, Scully-" She interrupted him. "Mulder, I am not going to change rooms because of a rumor." The look on her face and the implacable tone of her voice told him she would not change her mind. He subsided for the time being, wondering how she would react if she woke up and found him sitting guard later tonight. "And I don't need a roommate either, Mulder." Damn, she was good. He smiled crookedly, holding his hands up partway in surrender, and quipped, "But I'm housebroken, Scully." Eyes rolling, she chuckled a little. Pointing at his plate with her fork, she said, "Eat your dinner, Mulder." "Yes, dear." *** End Part 9