Through the Looking Glass by Lovesfox Headers in Prologue Epilogue *~*~*~* Three Days Later X-Files Office Washington, D.C. Wednesday, May 25, 2000 4:30 PM Mulder murmured his thanks into the mouthpiece, and after returning the phone to its cradle, leaned back in his chair, the leather creaking with his movements. His right hand went to his mouth, index finger and thumb lightly pinching his upper lip as he contemplated the memento and evidence- covered wall to the right of his desk while he mulled over the information he had just received. The call had been from the SAC of the Evidence Retrieval Team in Nantucket, reporting that the skeletal remains of three bodies had been unearthed deep in the woods behind Starbuck House thus far. Expectations were high that there were still more to discover. Mulder had requested those remains be sent to Quantico for examination, though he had little doubt as to their identity. Nor did those now involved in the case, or his often- skeptical partner, who was currently at home on an enforced sick leave recuperating from the events of Sunday night. Despite her protestations that she was fully recovered and suffering no ill effects. He wasn't so blasé about it –- Scully had not regained consciousness until after the ambulance ride to the Island's only hospital, and had been diagnosed as disoriented and shocky in the emergency department. Thankfully the mild hallucinations she had been experiencing had cleared during her 24-hour observation period, as had her nausea and breathing difficulties, and she had been released. He briefly debated giving her a call right then to fill her in, but decided against it. He had plans to see Scully after work, having promised to bring dinner, and they could discuss the closure of the case at that time. At that particular thought, his mind chose that moment to replay and relive those frantic minutes on the floor of Scully's room at Starbuck House three nights ago. He could feel again that heart-stopping fear when he had discovered his partner lying on the floor by the mirror, and how that fear had magnified when he hadn't been able to find her pulse. He shivered at the memory and shifted uneasily in his seat. Continuation of his frightening recollection had Mulder marveling with dark wonderment at the craftsmanship of the mirror. What had prevented it from swinging upward and whacking him in the knees after his immediate and violent blows to smash it to bits? For that matter, what had led him to the conclusion that destruction of the mirror would save Scully? That question had him shifting once again, leaning forward to sift through the papers and reports that covered the surface of his desk to search for the transcription of his initial interview with Nancy Carrington. Locating it, he leaned back once more and scanned quickly through for the place where he had asked the Innkeeper about the mirror. With Scully in the hospital at the time of the interview, his mind hadn't been fully focused on the task at hand, and he needed to double-check Nancy's exact words in regards to the mirror. Consumed by guilt, and devastated at the death of her grandmother, the Innkeeper's emotional disclosure in the early stages of the interview had confirmed his suspicions about a curse. She had also revealed that it had been placed on John and Rose Bishop and their descendants through the cheval mirror, which had been gifted to the couple back in 1872 by one Liza MacGregor. It was as if the floodgates had opened, or perhaps it was that she was relieved to finally get it off her chest, finally freeing herself of the guilt she carried and no longer feeling bound by secrecy. Nancy had gone on to say that she and her brother had attempted to rid themselves of the horrendous burden of the curse by destroying the mirror, to no avail. One eyebrow arched, and Mulder made a low sound of revelation. The Carringtons not been able to destroy it, yet he had. He could only surmise that it was due to the fact he was not a descendant of the Bishops. And his desperation and absolute terror of losing Scully hadn't hurt, either. Grimly, he thought further about the Carringtons, about the atrocities in which they had willingly partaken. Resigned to their fate and frightened by the consequences had they not obeyed the curse, the family had continued to comply, as their ancestors had before them. Shaking his head at the sad tale of the loss of innocent lives, he continued reading the transcribed report. At that point in the interview, Nancy Carrington had broken down completely. She had then confessed to poisoning Tom Phillips, Karen Cross, Lorraine Harrison and Suzanne Tyler, and to disposing of the bodies with her brother, John Carrington. Without prodding, she had provided detailed directions to the burial site in the woods, which was where the team was currently investigating. So that was where things stood at this time. Esther Dunford was dead, having apparently suffered a fatal heart attack when he had broken the cheval mirror, and John and Nancy Carrington were in custody and facing a number of charges stemming from their respective confessions. Once all the remains were located and identified, several unsolved disappearances would be closed. This case, although found in a rather unorthodox manner, could be considered a success story of sorts for the X-Files Department, adding to their already strong solve rate. Though, as always, he and Scully's greatest concern lay not with measuring up to some bureaucrat's yardstick of success, but with helping the victims or stopping those responsible. His office phone rang again, and at the conclusion of the call from the Lab, he had another piece of information to share with his partner later. Analysis of the tea found in the mug in Scully's room had been compiled, and compared to the blood sample taken from Scully upon admittance to the hospital, and a report was being completed. Traces of Atropa Belladonna, also known as nightshade, had been found, as well as Aconitum Anthora or wolfsbane, valerian root and nutmeg. He had done much reading on Witchcraft and the Occult, and recalled that both belladonna and wolfsbane were traditional ingredients to aid in flight. Wolfsbane had been used in the 13th and 14th centuries as poison bait for wolves, and was also thought to 'cure' werewolves. Medically, both plants were highly toxic and potentially lethal, and a combination of the two was extremely dangerous. Belladonna was also a hallucinogen, and when paired with the paralyzing effects of the wolfsbane, could be fatal. What could not be explained however, was the fact that those substances should have dissipated within twenty-four hours of ingestion, yet had not. The other main finding seemed to indicate that there was one substance the battery of tests could not identify; no match from any known database existed. It was being proposed that this mysterious element might have acted as a catalyst or possibly a synergist for the other ingredients. Once again, his partner had become an X-File. Mulder grimaced and leaned back in his chair, fingers now tapping lightly at the edge of his desk. His eyes lost their focus as his mind wandered into familiar, dark territory, recalling the other incidents when Scully had received the dubious distinction of a red-and-white-tabbed file bearing her name. The first, and arguably the worst -- though all of the situations had been frightening in their own ways -- Duane Barry and her missing time. He had been lost those months she was gone, cast adrift in a sea of uncertainty and fear. Oftentimes, barely functioning. And then there was Philadelphia, and the Pudovkin case, the case Scully had worked on half-heartedly. While he had been finding himself in Graceland, she had found Ed Jerse. The entire experience had left him reeling. Realizing he was now clutching at the desk edge with a white- knuckled grip, he resolved to think no more of such things. Scully had recovered from this latest incident as she had the others; she was fine. Sitting up, he glanced at his watch and decided to call it a day. He'd surprise Scully by being early for once. He rose to his feet and gathered together all the papers of the case, shoving them into a file folder, which was tossed into his briefcase. A brief stop at the Lab for a copy of their report, and then he would be on his way. *** Scully's Apartment Georgetown, D.C. Wednesday, May 25, 2000 6:10 PM >> An early morning stroller found Tom Phillips' body on Madaket Beach today, and it is quite fortunate that the police are labeling his death an accidental drowning. The children are remorseful about neglecting to dispose of him properly, and have vowed they will not make the same mistake again. << Scully finished reading the diary entry for June 21, 1977 and closed the aged, leather-bound book that had been found amongst Esther Dunford's belongings and taken as evidence. And subsequently 'borrowed' by Mulder. Leaning forward, she placed it on the coffee table, sighing wearily, feeling the beginnings of a headache. She had been reading the diary on and off the entire day, and was paying for it now. Her hands were cold, and the left one ached from holding the book for so long, so she clasped them together and rubbed gently, staring into space. Her thoughts were whirling, recalling the other entries she had read, entries detailing the deaths of the family's hapless prey. After suffering from and nearly dying of scarlet fever, Essie had chosen eighteen-year-old Sarah O'Connor as her first victim in 1916, believing the curse had caused her own illness. Seven years later, Beth Donaldson had disappeared from Nantucket, and eight years after that, Mary Patrick. There were other victims, every seven to ten years or so, as well. In each case, Essie had described how she had dragged the bodies through the woods and buried them, along with the evidence of her deeds. Esther Dunford was as guilty as her grandchildren. A hot wave of shame coursed through Scully and she closed her eyes, slumping back into the cushions of the couch. She had been completely and utterly fooled by the elderly woman, had fallen for the friendly, helpful act like a rookie fresh out of Quantico. As her mind replayed her encounters with Essie, from their first meeting to their last, she attempted to find fault with the woman's behavior. Some sign that there had been something wrong, something she should have seen and had not. But nothing eerie or unusual stood out in her memory. Their interactions seemed rather innocuous. Routine and ordinary, if a little overly friendly and attentive on Essie's part. Yet Scully could not help but feel as if she had somehow failed. Failed herself, failed her partner and the investigation. Could not accept the excuse that this failure partially stemmed from the drug concoction she had been fed right from the start. Though the knowledge that she had been drugged once again rankled bitterly. In a cascading effect, her thoughts continued their downward spiral and turned to another negative aspect of the case –- her refusal to admit to the possibility of the existence of a curse. More than once, Essie had made reference to it in her diary, and that fact, coupled with her partner's complete acceptance of this possibility, had caused Scully to seriously question her staunch beliefs. A knock at the door pulled Scully from her dark,demoralizing contemplation, and jerked her upright, her head turning towards the entryway. The knock was repeated, followed by Mulder's voice calling her name questioningly through the wood. This had her glancing with surprise at her watch. He was early; she hadn't expected him for at least another hour. It was a pleasant surprise, once she got over the shock. Smiling slightly, she rose from the couch, smoothing her hands down her casual sweater before making her way to the door. She realized her steps were eager, and recognized that she was glad to see her partner. That she had missed their connection, their banter. Had missed him. Habit had her glancing through the peephole, which confirmed that it was indeed Mulder, who bore familiar white takeout bags in his arms. He called her name out again then, and hearing the slight worry in his voice, she hurried to undo the lock and chain. "Sorry, Mulder," Scully apologized upon opening the door. Standing to one side, she gestured him in, watching his gaze skim her from head to toe, lingering briefly on her face. "I didn't wake you, did I?" he asked as he passed her, heading for the kitchen. Along the way he detoured and dropped his briefcase on the floor by the couch. After closing and re-locking the door, she followed him into the kitchen, where he was already placing cartons of Chinese food on her table. As she busied herself getting utensils, plates and glasses, she told him, "I was reading Essie's diary." There was something about Scully's tone that told Mulder she was perturbed about something, and he thought it most likely it was the contents of Esther Carrington's diary. However, he played it casual, sensing now was not the time to push. "Anything interesting?" Of course, having read a good portion of the diary, Mulder already knew what it contained –- further proof that the Carringtons and family were guilty as hell, and had been the unwitting and unfortunate victims of a curse with deadly repercussions. "Plenty," was her tart response, accompanied by the arch of one eyebrow as their gazes met briefly. He tried a smile, but it was not returned. In fact, he caught her frown as she turned away to open the refrigerator. Before he could express his concern, she spoke again, her voice deceptively casual. "I've got beer or red wine." Taking his seat, he told her, "Water's fine, Scully." He waited until she had poured for them both and taken her seat to say, "Something's bothering you." Her look was classic Scully. Giving her a rueful half-grin in response, Mulder added, "On rare occasions, enigmatic Dr. Scully, I can read you like a book." His smile slipped away as he regarded her, noting the lines on her brow, which he knew denoted a headache. "And this chapter is a troubling one." She gave him the slightest of smiles, though it did not reach her eyes. "How eloquent, partner." There was no sting to her words; the statement was actually said with a certain fondness. Then she sighed, and looked down at her plate, pushing her fork absently through her rice. "Scully." It was said softly, encouragingly. Lifting her head, she met Mulder's gaze once again and saw that tender, supportive expression on his face. The one that allowed her to bare her soul -- an often-difficult undertaking. "The curse." Scully stated the words baldly. When Mulder merely tipped his head in a silent request for her to continue, she divulged, "I didn't want to believe in it." Frowning again, she glanced away and then back. "I still don't want to believe in it. But..." Her voice trailed off and she shook her head as if trying to clear it. Mulder reached out and covered Scully's free hand with his, squeezing gently. Her next words were hesitant, as if she couldn't quite believe she was saying them. "But I do." Pulling her hand free, she rose to her feet, exhaling heavily, her expression conflicted. In affirmation, Mulder said, "You believe." Scully nodded jerkily, her gaze wavering, and when he took her hand once again, she let him tug her back down onto her chair. His quiet request that they eat first and talk later was a favorable one, and she acquiesced, realizing she hadn't eaten since noon. Dinner was a quiet affair, quickly done, as was the clean up. Mulder declined tea, and went to sit on the couch while Scully waited for the kettle to boil for her cup of soothing brew. Once she had settled on the couch beside him, her steaming tea on a coaster on her coffee table beside a plate of cookies, she leaned over and picked up Essie's diary, its pages decorated with small yellow squares of paper where she had bookmarked certain passages. She didn't open the book right away, merely ran one finger gently along the leather spine while she formulated her thoughts, her words. "Essie mentions the curse quite often," she said at last, lifting her head to meet her partner's patient, interested gaze. "Liza MacGregor told her about it back in 1914," she continued, voice automatically taking on a didactic quality. "Essie didn't believe Liza, not until she herself nearly died of scarlet fever two years later. It was then that she believed, and selected her first victim." "Sarah O'Connor," Mulder interjected, nodding slightly. "Essie's friend." He remembered the names of all the victims. He also already knew everything Scully had just related, but understood it was her way of thinking things out, of putting the pieces together in an organized fashion. Scully snorted derisively, while silently commiserating about the fate of the young girl so long ago. "Poor choice in friendship." Although she did in some small way, it was harder for Scully to feel sorry for Essie, who had elected to save herself at the cost of others. Mulder merely nodded again, letting his partner work through the difficulty he knew she was experiencing as she wrestled with her beliefs and the evidence before her. "Family illness seems to occur whenever there is a time period of a certain number of years between disappearances, though that number decreases as the years pass," Scully told him a moment later. Leaning forward, she picked up a notepad from the coffee table, which she handed to Mulder, and continued talking while he perused the pages. "I charted out a timeline of sorts, using Essie's and Liza's diaries for reference. After her stroke in 1977, Essie writes that her grandmother Rose Daniels Bishop was quite unwell for most of her adult life, and Essie even speculates that it was because of the curse, as was the stroke she herself suffered." "It was also the cause of her death," Mulder commented wryly and with surety. Scully frowned. "Mulder, the autopsy clearly showed Essie had a heart attack. She was 102 years old, and had experienced quite a shock." Mulder had expected Scully to factor in Esther Dunford's age and the findings of the autopsy, would have been surprised if she had not. "I know that, Scully," he replied, his voice rising slightly as he eagerly defended his stance. "But Essie was the oldest living member of the cursed family, and when I destroyed the mirror, and thereby the curse itself, Liza MacGregor had her final revenge with Essie's death." Rather than argue, and because they would never know with absolute certainty, Scully shifted gears and changed the topic. "You brought your briefcase in," she commented with a lift of one eyebrow. "I did," Mulder agreed, nodding. Shifting on the couch, he leaned to one side and slid it closer. Opening it, he flipped quickly through the folders inside, removing one, which he handed to her. "I picked up the preliminary lab reports on the analysis of your blood and the tea sample on my way out." Meeting her gaze, he added pointedly, "Interesting stuff." Scully had already found the meat of the report and after reading it, made a sound of agreement. "Essie does mention home-grown herbs in her diary, although nothing specific," she told him, her finger tapping the paper absently as she scanned the information one last time. Closing the folder and handing it back, she then said guardedly, "Hopefully this helps explain my less than sterling performance on this case." "Scully—-" he began, but was interrupted. Shaking her head, Scully persisted, her voice rising with her agitation. "Mulder, not only did I go into this case with skepticism, and maintain that position throughout, but I let myself be duped by one of the main perpetrators!" Mulder quickly weighed his options, and decided to try and tease her out of her funk. Flapping one hand at her playfully in dismissal, Mulder quipped, "Don't worry, Scully, I'll take the next drugging, okay?" For a second her look was a glacial stare, and then she was slumping down, a rueful half-smile curving her lips. "Deal," she murmured, her eyes slipping shut as her head hit the pillowed back of the couch. Mulder grinned to himself as he watched the tension visibly seep from his partner. He gave her a few minutes of peace before cheerfully commenting, "Hey Scully, did I mention I filed a 302 with Skinner to investigate a haunted house in Nantucket?" "Mulder!" *~*~*~ The End Feedback gratefully accepted at lovesfox@rogers.com