Title: Earthbound Voyager
Author: Elizabeth L. Iacono
Rating: PG
Category: Story, Angst
Keywords: MSR
Spoilers: Existence
Summary: If Scully's child isn't the one that the
aliens are after, that means that there
is still a child out there that they want...
The cafe in this story is borrowed (with permission)
from a friend of mine, Tabby, who wrote a lovely
story called 'Good Mornings'. Go read it, it'll
give you the warm fuzzies. This story, however,
probably won't.
Disclaimer: Anyone XF related ain't mine. Anyone
you don't recognize from there is mine.
Feedback: would be treasured for the great gift
it is. Write me at RhiaRamsay@aol.com
Archiving: I'll send to Gossamer. KTF, Xemplary,
XFMU, Touchstone, Legacy, Jeri's archive (which I
have blanked out on the name right now) can all have
it. Anyone else please e-mail me for permission.
Earthbound Voyager
Elizabeth L. Iacono
July, 2001
The little cafe in Georgetown is one of her three
splurges. She doesn't have much money to spare
between her and her baby, but the weekly treat
always makes the two of them smile. It's worth
the far walk from her dive of an apartment. The
cafe is a lovely place, and the owner always smiles
and greets her and the baby by their first names,
calling 'Hello, Amanda. Hello, little Juno,' out
over the warm bodies that are in there.
This week she comes on a Sunday, one of her two
days off that she uses to spend quality time with
her two-month-old little girl. She settles into
a corner booth, set back a ways from the rest of
the crowd. Juniper and her carrier are settled
onto the table, and the little girl coos with
delight. Amanda wishes she could give the little
girl more of a treat than warmed up breast milk
pumped earlier in the day, but anything else would
hurt her little stomach.
The owner walks over with a familiar smile and she
smiles back, tickling Juniper's tummy. He asks
what she would like today, and she orders a
chocolate croissant and a decaf mocha cappuccino.
His hand shoots out from his side and she laughs,
realizing that she has become far too predictable.
With a smile she pulls the bottle of milk from her
bag and hands it over to him to be heated up.
As she waits for her food she wishes she could
relax her guard, but years of practice has
ingrained in her the necessity to watch her
back. Her eyes travel around the little cafe,
alighting on many familiar faces. She looks at
the back of their necks, searching for the
tell-tale bumps that speak of replicants. If
one of the replicants is spotted, she'll run like
hell, trying to save her baby for all that she
is worth.
Her eyes stop on one couple and their new baby,
and she smiles. She knows something of their
years together, mostly through second hand
knowledge. Fox Mulder and Dana Scully, along
with little William. It's a hell of a story,
which seems at this point to have a happy ending.
Somewhere in the back of her mind she hopes that
she can have that happy ending one day too.
She smiles wistfully and pushes some oak brown
waves of hair behind her shoulder, wondering if
they would ever recognize her. She knows that
she doesn't look any older than eighteen or so,
but her soul sometimes feels centuries old.
Once upon a time she was called Samantha, but
now it is Amanda, a name which would not inspire
a person to look twice.
But even as she keeps watch she manages to enjoy
her croissant and entertain her baby girl. She
thinks about what makes her baby girl special
and why these replicants want her so badly.
Juniper is perfectly human, but God knows after
all that she's been through there's reason to be
suspect. The words that her baby's father used
to describe her are 'more human than human'.
A super baby, almost, who can withstand anything
these replicants can throw at her. And that's
why they want her dead.
And she also knows that she will lay down her own
life before any one of these assholes hurt her baby.
The croissant is finished but she remains, sipping
on her coffee and paging through a magazine pilfered
from the hair salon where she works. She wishes
that she could work in a job where she would use
more of her brain and put to use the substantial
education her abductors gave her, but the salon
is inconspicuous, and so she stays there. She
looks at the latest fashions she can't afford,
and the jewelry she wishes she owned. They say
that money can't buy happiness, but it would
sure make things a lot easier.
A lazy day is spent in the cafe, with the owner
graciously providing her with snacks and drinks
even though he knows that she cannot pay for them.
She and Juniper leave before the sun sets, not
wanting to be walking through D.C. in the dark.
The half hour walk passes quickly, and soon she
is walking up the stairs to her small apartment.
The apartment is a true dive, but it is all she
can afford on a beauty salon's salary. It's a
one room studio; thankfully Juniper won't be at
the stage where she needs her own room for a long
while. On one wall is the kitchenette and small
dining table, the other wall is host to her
bed-slash-couch and Juniper's crib. An ancient
TV (with dials, no less) and a cupboard divide
the room down the center. A large window above
her bed lets plenty of light in, saving on the
electricity bills, especially in the summer.
Pushed back against another wall is her second
splurge: her art supplies. Sketching and painting
is a great comfort to her, giving her an outlet to
exorcise her demons and destress at the end of long
days. They also gave the bare walls of the small
dive some character, bright visions of oceans and
animals, colors that stimulate the small eyes of
Juniper.
Something brushes heavily against her leg, and
looking down, she flips on the light. Winding
its way around her feet is the cat who has adopted
her. She is sure to crack a window to give it a
way in. Its black fur, ragged from many street
fights, leaves traces on her jeans and she moves
away. She mutters, "Move it, Bast," using the
name she bestowed upon the cat after the Goddess
of cats.
She moves to the table and places the baby carrier
down on it. She pulls a sleepy Juniper out and
brings her to the crib, which is her third splurge.
She does not like to scrimp on things for the baby,
wanting to get the best for her that she can give
her. The crib is made of sturdy wood, old enough
to have cradled generations of children. Juniper
is settled in the crib, and she snuffles softly,
getting comfortable in the blankets.
Juniper drifts off and Amanda sits on her own bed.
She turns the TV on low, taking her pick from the
Sunday night offerings the major channels offer
up. Bast settles on her lap and she strokes the
fur absently, her eyes always trained on the
television. Juniper will be up again for a feeding
in a few hours so she doesn't bother to go to sleep
just yet.
It is the middle of the night when she is awoken by
a startling noise outside the apartment, almost
like a bang. At first she thinks it is the replicants
coming for her and her baby, but as she sits up
straight in her bed she can hear the voices coming
from across the hall. They are not the voices of
the replicants, and seem to be directed towards
the occupants of the other apartment. Juniper
starts to cry, and she swoops her up into her arms,
trying to quiet her down. Even if they aren't the
aliens, she still does not want to attract the
attention of any possible psychos.
She paces with Juniper from one end of the apartment
to the other. She tries desperately to hush her,
feeling a familiar panic chase up her spine.
Suddenly a bright white light flashes from underneath
the door. Amanda gasps and turns her back to the
door, huddling over Juniper to protect her.
She couldn't say how long it takes for the light to
die down and for her to pry her eyes open. When
she does though, she hears more panicked voices out
in the hallway along with the scampering of feet.
Soon the noises fade, and she sighs with relief.
Some hidden sixth sense within tells her the danger
has passed. Juniper senses it also and slowly slips
back to sleep. By some miracle she is able to fall
back asleep also, curling up in her bed with a warm
breeze from outside twisting her hair.
In the morning she wakes up like clockwork to the
sound of Juniper's cries. Mommy instinct knows
that these are food cries, and she quickly sets
about feeding her. When Juniper's breakfast is
done she starts to get dressed. Her summer wardrobe
is slim, consisting mostly of cheap Old Navy tank
tops with a few pairs of cutoffs and jeans and loose
skirts. Today's outfit is a pair of jeans and the
first tank top on the pile.
She sits down to a bowl of cereal, with Juniper
perched on the table in her carrier and Bast splayed
out on the windowsill in an early patch of sunlight.
Amanda idly pages through a worn and marked up baby
name book, a used but appreciated gift from one of
the women at work. She glances at the markings she
made, thinking back about how she crossed out any and
all names that had to do with the skies, heavens,
anything related to where they came from. The name
Juniper was circled a few times, a plant that was
solely rooted in the earth--which was exactly what
she wanted. Next to it she had penciled in the name
Beatrix, meaning voyager. The earthbound voyager.
She felt it was the perfect name, and does not regret
it at all.
There is a knock on the door, and she pulls her head
out of the book. She pushes a wing of hair out of
her eye, back into the half ponytail she had yanked
her hair into. With a check on Juniper she moves
to the door and checks the peephole. She does not
recognize the people standing there, but the badge
proclaiming 'FBI' is blatantly obvious. So she
cracks the door open to look at them, but leaves
the chain on just in case. "Yes?" she asks.
The man speaks first. "Amanda Marie Chant? I'm
Agent Doggett, this is Agent Reyes. We're with
the FBI. Can we come in? We have a few questions
to ask you."
Amanda shrugs. She is surprised to hear the gravelly
tone of his voice. They don't have the sense of the
replicants about them, so she unchains the door and
lets them inside. They are dressed in heavy dark
suits, there to give an image of professionalism
despite the sweltering heat outside. She yanks
a few chairs out from the table for them to sit
on. Agent Reyes takes the seat with a murmured
thanks, but Agent Doggett remains standing, pacing
a small path in the room.
Amanda wonders if she looks as nervous on the
outside as she feels on the inside. She has
dealt with police before in her many years and
many identities, but never have any of them sought
her out specifically. "Is it all right if I ask
what this is about?" she says, sitting back down
to her breakfast.
"It's about your neighbor across the hall," Agent
Reyes speaks, pulling a file folder from the bag at
her side. "Mr. Sidney Bernacki. He was found dead
earlier this morning." Amanda leans back in her
chair pensively and thinks of that light she saw
last night.
She does not know Mr. Bernacki all that well.
This area that she lives in is known for people
who are trying to keep to themselves, and Mr. Bernacki
is the poster child for that movement. The only
people she knows him to talk to are his bookie
and the loan sharks.
"Was he murdered?" she asks.
Agent Doggett speaks up. "That hasn't been
determined just yet. He was found in his apartment
burned to death, but without any trace of fire
related damage around him. Did you see or smell
any fire last night?" he asks.
She shakes her head quickly, knowing for sure there
was nothing burning last night. "No, no fire at
all." She hesitates then, wondering if she should
speak up about the voices and the light. The part
inside her with morals saying she should do the
right thing is urging her tell, but her survival
instinct holds her back by the waistband of her jeans.
Unfortunately for her Agent Reyes picks up on her
hesitancy, and she leans forward in her chair.
"What is it?" she prods.
Amanda bites her lip, knowing she has been caught.
She could lie to them, but her mind tosses that
suggestion out the window. "Okay," she sighs, and
pushes some hair behind her ear nervously. "Last
night, maybe around two a.m. or so, I was woken up
by a loud noise--a bang of sorts. Right after that
were some voices, a few people talking. And then
there was this really bright light. I don't know
for how long it lasted but when it faded there were
some more voices that sounded rather panicked, and
I think it was some feet shuffling, and that was it."
Agent Reyes is practically on the edge of her seat,
listening intently, but Agent Doggett is still
pacing around looking skeptical. There seems to
be an invisible standoff happening, but it is
broken by Juniper letting out a plaintive little
cry. Amanda stands up and pulls Juniper out of
her seat and begins to pace with her, trying to
calm her down. A subtle hand figures out that
it is not the diaper that is making her cry.
"Ms. Chant, did you have anything to drink last
night?" Agent Doggett asks her.
The skepticism does not surprise her, and she
smiles at them indulgently. "Agent Doggett,
is it? I'm a nursing mother. I wouldn't dare
do that to my daughter."
A stern look from Agent Reyes prevents any further
questions along that line. She turns back to
Amanda and smiles. "Your daughter is beautiful.
What's her name?"
"Thanks," Amanda blushes. Even after two months
she is still not quite comfortable with the
compliments for her baby. "This is Juno.
Juniper Beatrix Chant, actually."
Agent Reyes nods with another smile and stands
up. "Thanks for your help. If you remember
anything else or see anything suspicious," she
digs a business card out of the inside pocket of
her jacket, "just give me a call at that number."
Amanda takes the proffered card with her free arm
and places it on the table. She follows the
agents to the door and lets them out. As she
shuts the door after them she hears them speak
through the wood plank.
"She's obviously hiding something," Agent Doggett
says first.
"I agree she's hiding something, but I don't think
it's what you think it is."
"What?" Agent Doggett sounds skeptical yet again.
"Look at that place, for that matter look at her.
She's probably a scared girl run away from an
abusive boyfriend and she doesn't want him to
find her," Agent Reyes says sympathetically.
"I don't blame her for being hesitant around us."
"Let's hope that's all she's hiding."
Amanda leans back against the door and sighs
heavily, cradling Juniper in her arms. 'You have
no idea,' she thinks grimly. She can't afford to
dwell on it though, so she sets about doing the
activities of her daily life.
Is a sequel warranted? Please let me know!
RhiaRamsay@aol.com
Thanks for reading!