From drjudd@rainbow.net.au Fri Aug 30 08:58:14 1996
OFFSPRING
DESLEA R. JUDD
drjudd@rainbow.net.au
Copyright 1996
DISCLAIMER
This book is based on The X Files, a creation of Chris Carter owned by
him, Twentieth Century Fox, and Ten-Thirteen Productions. Fox Mulder,
Dana Scully, Walter Skinner, and a number of lesser characters including
Bill Mulder, Mrs Mulder, Samantha Mulder and her clones, Maggie Scully,
Melissa Scully, Captain Scully, Sharon Skinner, Kimberly Cooke, the
Cigarette Smoking (Cancer) Man, the Well Manicured Man and his offsider,
Frohike, Quiqueg, Gautier, Jean Gautier, Ellen, and Alex Krycek remain
the intellectual property of those parties. A number of other characters
are the author's creation and are copyright, and may not be used without
her written permission. These include but are not limited to Dr Karen
Koettig, Agent Grbevski, Melissa Samantha Scully, Grace Skinner, Clone 1
(Cynthia), Clone 3 (Carolyn), Clone 4 (Catherine), Dr Sam Fieldman, Dr
Paul Sturrock, Dr Marion Pieterse, Wendy Tomiris, Serena Ingleburn,
Amarette, Dr Jillian Maitz, Hallie, and Emily Trent. Any queries
concerning ownership of minor characters not mentioned here should be
directed to the author.
(See Pt 1 for complete spoiler, content, and comments info).
A few spoilers from Pilot, Duane Barry, Ascension, One Breath, Colony,
Endgame, Anasazi, Blessing Way, Paper Clip, Nisei, 7.31, Piper Maru,
Apocrypha, and Avatar.
I've rated this book R just to be on the safe side, but I think it's more
PG-13, in truth. There's some low-level sex (three scenes, more
emotional than anatomical), low-level bad language, low-level violence,
and that's about all.
Comments, good and bad, are welcome; but make sure they're constructive,
please! My e-mail is drjudd@rainbow.net.au, but don't worry if you see
something else in your "reply" header like magna.com, because Rainbow.Net
shares a server with another ISP called MagnaData. And if you think my
work's worth stealing, I'm flattered; but don't even think about it.
Archivists, feel free to add this to your collections; but be sure to let
me know.
OFFSPRING BY DESLEA R. JUDD (17/18)
EIGHT CONTINUED
West Tisbury
Martha's Vineyard, Massachussets
April 4, 1997
Walter came to her that night.
She was feeding Melissa in the early hours of the morning when he
crept down the stairs. She herself had elected to sleep on Ginny's couch
so that she wouldn't disturb the rest of the household tending to her.
When she heard his footfall on the stairs, she looked up. "I didn't mean
to wake you."
"I was already awake."
He sat down at her side, watching. He leaned forward and stroked the
infant's milky-white cheek, which melded with the milky-white skin of
Dana's breast. It was only with great restraint that he didn't touch
her. He wanted to, but it would have been...rude, somehow. It was a
liberty he had no right to take.
He looked up at Dana's face as she gently removed Melissa from her
breast and wiped the tiny mouth. "Do you want me to put her down?" Walter
asked.
She nodded wordlessly and gave him the baby. He took her to the
makeshift basket by the window and laid her down. He stroked the downy
head and wrapped her in her blanket. He watched her for a long moment,
then pulled himself away.
When he returned to Dana's side, she had buttoned her nightgown and
she sat curled up on one end of the sofa. They held one another with
their eyes in the dim light for a moment; then, finally, she said, "You
know, it's funny. You and I and Mulder, too - we all live such crazy
lives that the everyday joys, the things like feeding her and putting her
to bed and holding her and all of that - they just sort of slip by."
"There are other everyday joys, too, Dana," he said before he could
stop himself. "Being together, holding one another..." Walter stopped.
She looked at him, unblinking. Finally, he said in a low voice, "I love
you, Dana."
Dana looked away, suddenly ashamed. "Walter, I'm not a demonstrative
person. I don't say it as often as I should or show it the way you
deserve - that's just not who I am." She turned back to face him. "But I
love you, too. More than you could ever know."
He leaned forward then, and took her face in his hands. He touched
his lips to hers, felt the softness opening up beneath them. She put her
arms around his neck and, straightening out her body, drew him close to
her. The way he thrust his fingers into her hair and tenderly teased her
scalp sent shivers through her. His fingertips stroked her face, her
neck, as though to memorise every curve.
They stayed that way for long, delicious moments; but finally,
Walter's fingers found the buttons at her neck. He looked at her,
searching for aquiescence; but she hesitated. "What's wrong?" he asked,
gently.
Dana's brow creased, and she seemed to struggle with the words. "I -
you'll think I'm silly, Walter." He shook his head, mystified. She went
on softly after a moment, "I - I want to be beautiful for you."
He had a glimmer of understanding then. Touched, and a little
saddened that he even had to say it, he told her with great tenderness,
"You're always beautiful for me, Dana. And you could never be less so for
having had our child." He slid his hand over her still-rounded stomach
and leaned down to kiss it through the gown. He drew her closer still and
touched his lips to her cheek. "Let me love you, Dana."
She turned her face to meet his lips with hers, parted them, and
surrendered to her own growing passion. After a long, long moment, she
said firmly, "Love me, Walter."
"Always," he murmured.
And then he was unfastening her nightclothes and sliding the cotton
gown off her shoulders, and she was pushing away his robe; but neither of
them noticed, so absorbed were they in one another. Dana was only faintly
aware that suddenly they were naked, flesh against flesh; somehow the
indescribable emotion in his eyes was much more important. Her ivory skin
was silver in the moonlight of the open windows, and he made the smallest
sound which in some way expressed the incredible depth of feeling for
which he had no words. There was something there which was greater than
grief or fear or joy. Greater? Or baser? Certainly purer, more
fundamental. And he saw it reflected in her own eyes, dark and fine.
He lowered his head to the indentation at the base of her neck and
kissed it, nuzzled it, bathed it with his tongue. He moved further down
her body, kissing her velvety breasts, inhaling the scent of her milk and
the salty smell of his child on her. He felt her move to touch him, but
he looked up at her. "No, Dana," he said gently, "let me do this for
you. Let me give to you."
Slowly, she nodded, and settled for running her fingertips over his
head, his neck. She sank back in the cushions and gave herself up to him,
to the smooth, strong hands that touched her with such longing, the soft
lips that searched and probed, the silky tongue that found the warmth and
the softness at her core. And when she shuddered against him, he came up
to kiss her, her own taste on his lips. She took them eagerly between
hers, drinking in her own scent and her own taste, her need overtaking
even desire.
She felt his hardness pushing tenderly against her. "I don't want to
hurt you," he said gently.
She smiled, saying softly, "You said that the first time you touched
me like this, too."
"So I did." But the question in his eyes remained.
She answered it. "You won't. Karen gave me the all-clear last
Friday." She took his face in her hands. "Walter, you've never hurt me.
I don't believe you will now."
He took courage in her belief, and he pushed himself into her warm
depths. For all her words, Dana hadn't been sure; but now, she rose to
meet him, her body opening up to receive him and be part of him. And dear
God, how right it seemed. And when he gave her what was his to give, she
moaned ever so softly for him to never let her go.
When it was over, Dana held him, his head against her breast. She
cradled him, suddenly maternal, her instincts coming to the fore; and amid
the depth of love and the intensity of emotion which had passed between
them, she swore never to let anything come between them again.
Dresner Family Wall
Latvian Orthodox Cemetery
Boston, Massachussets
April 16, 1997
Virginia, Dana, Missy, Walter, and Fox stood before the small bronze
plaque in silence.
It was funny, Fox thought, that right now, that was how he thought of
the five of them. There was no Mom, or Scully, or Skinner, or God forbid,
Sir. Just five scattered people drawn together by one woman, for better
or for worse.
It was stark in its simplicity. Just her name, and her dates; 22
January 1964-13 March 1997. No mention of Melissa or the countless dead
children she had been mother to; no mention of Frohike, whose life she had
saved; or the clones, whom she had tried to help. No testimony to the
woman she had been.
There had been no formal memorial service for Samantha. The Mulders
had lost their faith after she had been taken, all of them; and none made
any pretence of religious commitment, even in death. But Virginia had
felt it important to acknowledge her in the wall that had housed the
remains of her family since their emigration to the U.S.A. so many decades
before. And so here they stood, the five of them (well, four of them; he
himself held Missy in his arms), without benefit of clergy or service,
showing their respect for a woman they were never allowed to know well
enough to love.
By unspoken agreement, each of them placed their flowers at the foot
of the wall and turned away. They walked in silence to Scully's car.
At last, Ginny spoke. "Thank you for coming, Dana, Walter. It would
have been awful for it to have been just Fox and I." She paused. "That's
what I hate the most, you know. Not that she was taken, but that she
never lived. She never had friends, or family. The five of us are
something, but even we never knew her. What was done to her - isolating
her that way - was wrong."
Dana took Ginny's hand. "Yes, it was. But she was a good woman,
Ginny. She was noble and brave. We can't know much, but we know that."
Ginny simply smiled and kissed her cheek. "Thank you, Dana."
"Are you coming to the baptism?" she asked after a long pause.
Virginia Mulder nodded. "I wouldn't miss it for the world."
With that, Scully and Skinner got into her car and Ginny and Mulder
walked on to his; and they parted.
And none of them saw the blonde woman who looked on.
St Gerard's Catholic Chapel
Annapolis, Maryland
April 19, 1997
Melissa Scully lay motionless in Dana's arms. She was completely
placid and still - except for her eyes.
Dana had noticed this habit of hers a lot. While other babies
squirmed, Melissa would remain quite removed from her surroundings.
However, her glance seemed to dart everywhere, taking in everything around
her. Sometimes it enthralled Dana. Sometimes it frightened her. The
child was just too self-aware. She had the strangest feeling that Missy
was not only seeing; she was actively looking at and processing that which
she saw.
Just the same, she was a joy. Walter visited every day, and not just
to play with her like some kind of novel toy. He really helped with her,
and took pleasure in doing so. His commitment to her should not have
surprised Dana, but it did. She had truly expected to be alone in raising
Missy. This was not so much an indictment on her opinion of Walter as one
on her own presuppositions. Self-sufficiency was a good thing, but she
was beginning to see that expecting to be alone was not.
Sometimes, Walter stayed with her, and she accepted those times
together as a gift. But though she longed to be with him, she never
sought those times. It would be wrong to seek him out and then push him
away. Walter seemed to understand that, and he seemed to know when he
could hold her, or kiss her, or make love to her; and he also seemed to
know when it would hurt them both to do so. Dana had never been a
believer in intuition, but she could see that he had something. Maybe it
was just that he knew her so well. Whatever the case, they had achieved
some level of understanding that enabled them to love, but also to remain
true to themselves and their circumstances.
Mulder, too, was a constant companion. Always a devoted friend, he
had come to view Missy as his own child. He never voiced it that way, he
was too sensitive to their feelings for that; but Scully knew him too
well. She didn't mind. She liked the fact that her daughter would grow
up among so many who loved her. She had been so fortunate in that way
herself.
After some deliberation, Scully had told her mother, Maggie, that
Missy was her own child. It transpired that Maggie had guessed, and she
did not demand the explanations for Dana's secretive behaviour that others
might have. Maggie had dreamt her daughter gave birth at home, surrounded
by her friends. Scully privately dismissed this claim, but not before
going deathly pale. However, she gave her mother's experience the respect
it deserved by accepting it without editorial comment. Harder to dismiss
was Maggie's readiness to go along with the adoption story without so much
as an explanation - Maggie Scully, who so valued the truth. Scully said
as much, but Maggie replied cryptically that some truths should be
sacrificed to serve others. Scully wondered just how much her mother
knew.
Dana was brought back to the present by the sound of the
congregation. In the front pew sat Maggie Scully, Ginny Mulder, and a
small scattering of friends. The priest had just asked them to renew
their baptismal promises in preparation for Melissa's own baptism. She
looked down at Melissa and her hold on the baby tightened. She glanced up
at Walter, who gave her a gentle smile.
Presenting Walter as Missy's father had not posed the problem she had
expected. She had few close friends, but those she had had accepted
Walter as the baby's father by virtue of being involved with Dana. They
did not see his role in the child's life as inconsistent with her
so-called adoption. This was something for which she was grateful. She
could imagine nothing worse for a devoted father such as Walter than being
expected to refrain from any public involvement with the baby. Her
baptism alone would have been agonising for him in such a circumstance.
Her gaze fell on Mulder. She smiled involuntarily. Suddenly
conscious of her scrutiny, he looked up, then smiled back. She had
thought of asking Karen, or perhaps her other close friend, Ellen, to be
Missy's godmother; but in the end she had decided to have Mulder alone.
The three of them had been through so much together. And Walter was
right. In a way, Missy did belong to all three of them. This day was
theirs.
"Melissa Samantha Scully," the priest began. Impulsively, Scully
gave Melissa to Mulder. He shot her a look of pleased surprise. Touched,
he held the child forward over the font. The priest poured a small
quantity of water over the baby's head. "I baptise you in the name of the
Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit." Only Mulder was close
enough to hear him gasp.
He glanced down at Missy. Her blue eyes stared up at the priest's
hand where it was still wet, unblinking. Their expression was almost
angry. Her forehead creased where the water had hit it. Mulder was
amazed at the awareness in her eyes.
He gave a sudden grin. Missy didn't just know she had been hit with
water; she knew the priest had done it, and she was not impressed. She
was unmistakeably annoyed!
Mulder shot the priest a look and saw the water bubbling in his
too-red palm. Unobtrusively, the man managed to put his hand back into
the font and continue speaking, his voice slightly strained. Mulder saw a
few tendrils of steam rising from the water where he held it. His smile
faded.
He looked back down at Melissa in sudden comprehension. She wasn't
annoyed. She was furious. And she was getting her revenge. <> He didn't know if he could hear his thoughts,
much less if she understood him. But he suspected maybe she could.
He glanced over at Scully and Skinner. Ever doting, they were
watching Missy. They hadn't noticed the water. Good. He looked back at
Missy once more and stared into her deep eyes so like his own. <> he commanded her silently. <>
The water in the font started to swirl. She was making it worse.
The priest pulled his hand from the water with a tiny, barely audible
gasp.
<>
The water continued to swirl lazily. But at least it wasn't speeding up.
<>
Finally, she blinked. He let out his breath, realising for the first
time how much she had frightened him. The water stilled.
<>
But, he wondered nervously, smiling wanly at Scully, for how long?
Coming In Part 18: A Betrayal
--
_______________________________________
| |
|Deslea R. Judd (drjudd@rainbow.net.au) |
|"The Owls Are Not What They Seem" |
| - The Log Lady, Twin Peaks) |
|_______________________________________|
(
geocities.com/hollywood)