A LIFE, CONCLUSION:
By Char Chaffin
Category: MSR, AU, Future-Fic
Rating: PG-13
Spoilers: Vague,
Seasons One through Nine
STORYLINE, THANKS:
See Header Notes, Part 0
Summary: 'Life is
more than good. Life is damned amazing...'
"
Part One
The stove in the
kitchen isn't working very well, but it's nothing she cannot live with. She can
do without an oven as long as her crock pot doesn't give out on her. Two
burners are clogged, or broken; she's not sure if gas burners can break but it
certainly appears that hers have done just that. She has two burners left, a
non-functioning oven - and a crock pot. She'll do just fine.
Besides, buying a
new stove means a trip into town, since she doesn't have a phone to use for
ordering one from the local hardware store. She could go to a neighbor's house
and use theirs, but that would mean she'd have to actually leave her house -
and she's not ready to do that, either. So, she'll make do with what she has.
She's very good at
making do.
Outside her window
midsummer is coming on fast. She has a wild-looking flower garden; an effusion
of daisies, primroses, lilac bushes and assorted bachelor buttons, even some
columbine. Nestled within their riotous colors are a lot of weeds, she'd bet.
She has only been outside to weed at twilight and it's less than easy to see in
that dim time frame. But she's not ready to go out into the bright early-summer
day - not yet. Her face...
Well, suffice to
say she's not ready to be seen.
Her new house is
old and has some electrical problems, some wiring troubles. There's a small
leak in the downstairs bathroom sink and a stain on the bedroom carpeting that
she can't get rid of. She knows she should call her landlady, for Adele
Pennington is a very nice and helpful woman. Again, this would mean walking to
the nearest neighbor and asking to use their phone. She prefers to think that
eventually Mrs. Pennington will hop in her car and drive up Bluff
Ridge and check on
her. If that happens it'll be all right to ask her into the house, to sit down
with her and talk. It'll be within these walls, it'll be safe.
Safe.
Cora puts a small
pot on one of two burners still working on her stove, and as the water heats
for her tea, she cups the distorted side of her face, and feels the awkward
pull of skin when she tries to smile.
She's safe. That's
what matters, right now.
*******************
June rolls down the
window of the old truck and lets the warm summer wind blow on her face, as they
climb the Bluffs, headed for home. Next to her on the wide seat Kevin slumps
sideways, dozing and drooling. In the back of the truck Briggs stands tall with
his front paws propped on the spare tire that is chained down, grinning in true
doggy fashion with his tongue flapping out the side of his mouth.
Frank
drives with one hand and passes a gentle palm over her very rounded tummy,
frowning a bit as he comments, "Maybe you should have taken Adele up on
her offer and stayed in town, baby - what if you start up again? I may not be able to get
you down the Ridge fast enough."
June sighs as the
extra air coming in her window cools her damp scalp. She shakes her head
definitively. "No. I don't want to stay with Adele or anyone else in town,
Frank. I love her to pieces but she'd drive me batty in a second. She means
well but she is a militant hover-er. Right now I
don't have enough patience left to endure any of that."
Franks nods,
understanding just what she means. He's had to bite his concern back more than
once in the past seven months, because it would only have served to irritate.
June's had a very normal pregnancy; it's what she's assured him all along. He's
watched her grow heavy with his child, marveling at the way her skin has taken
on that hormonal luster that he always figured was some kind of folk-lore
wishful thinking amongst pregnant women throughout history. Her
hair, her eyes, everything - glowing, healthy, more beautiful than ever.
It's been a wonder,
truly it has. He missed out on so much with Kevin. And he's been thoroughly
enchanted with the way June's pregnancy has advanced.
But he wouldn't be
who he is without that element of protectiveness and worry. It can't be helped.
He also knows his wife; knows his concern would be viewed as the worst sort of
hovering. And so Frank has been swallowing it for months. But in the last week
June has had two seriously realistic bouts of false labor; each time they both
thought for sure this was it. And both times it was just that: false. So once
again they'd piled back in the truck, bounced back up the Ridge, trying not to
hit every pot-hole on
Or
maybe...
"Hey, June -
is there any truth to the myth that if I toss you around in the cab of an old
truck on rough roads, it'll break your water?" Frank's voice has just the
right mix of tease. June rolls her head against the back of her seat and sends
him a grin. His face is so hopeful-looking.
"Not really,
Frank. Sorry to burst your bubble. It's iffy at best and can cause more harm
than good. So please do find it within your heart to avoid those trenches on
the road - okay? And the next time we drive to town, let's take the car."
She slips a hand over his thigh and squeezes affectionately, then
settles in as comfortably as she can with her bulk. Thankfully she's not
overdue - not yet, anyway. But she is very bloated, and feels more pressure
each day. It won't be long, now; her delivery date is closing in.
As they pass the
turnoff for Peale Point, June looks out over Little Bluff Gulch and thinks for
the hundredth time how lovely it is up here in the summer. The very air seems
to shimmer with the back-glow of the sun, filtering through wispy clouds and
giving the higher hills and lower mountains a bright sheen. And once again she
finds herself wishing her family could see the beauty of this place. More and
more she thinks of them; they are almost constantly on her mind. She absently
rubs her hand over Frank's leg as she muses the
differences between this pregnancy and her first.
With Kevin, her
mother had been a regular presence in her life. There for every question, each
new worry and unexplained twinge. They spoke on the phone every day, saw each
other several times a week. Her mother worried but never actively hovered and
for that June was grateful. Her mother understood her cravings, her need to
call at
This time around,
it's amazing in so many ways to have Frank with her. He understands her food
cravings. He rubs her feet and swollen ankles, massages her lower back when it
aches. He's gone shopping with her and she can't fault his taste in maternity
gear. He's listened to her fears, her hopes, her worries... her unrelenting
sadness that her mother isn't here to share in the wonder of this growing life
within her. In many ways it's a thousand times better that Frank is here this
time. Of course it is.
But she misses her
mother. Oh, so much, so very much.
As they turn into
their driveway, Kevin stirs and sits up, wiping at his mouth. He yawns, "I
drooled again. Sorry, Mom." He smiles sleepily at
her and June smiles back, snagging him against her side and landing a series of
smacking kisses along his flushed little cheek. He giggles and protests, loving
the attention but putting up his usual 'big-boy' front. As the truck comes to a
stop, June finally releases him and Kevin jumps out the driver's door as Frank
comes around the passenger side to help her out. They walk slowly to the house,
their arms around each other and Kevin racing Briggs to the front door.
As Frank fishes in
his pocket for the key they can hear the phone ringing inside; he finally gets
the door open and Kevin dashes through, convinced the caller is his buddy
Johnnie who lives farther up on the Ridge. June lowers herself carefully onto
the old glider on the front porch and yawns, Frank settling himself next to her
and reaching out a hand to sift through her loose wavy hair. It's a nice breeze
and the day isn't too warm. Maybe they'll stay out here and enjoy it, for a
little while -
A few seconds later
Kevin pokes his head out of the screen door and yells, "Dad! PHONE!" Since his parents are only perhaps three feet
away from him, the strident and loud voice of their son cuts through them like
a knife. Frank winces, but obligingly rouses himself out of his comfy seat and
walks to the kitchen, picking up the phone.
"Frank
here."
"Oh, Frank!
It's Adele, my dear. I hope I'm not disturbing you! But I need to ask a
favor."
Frank stifles a
yawn of his own before he replies. "Sure Adele - what can I do for
you?"
"Well, it's
about my new tenant, Cora. Cora Bledsoe. She doesn't have a phone, you know,
and I need to get word to her that I'm having a new stove delivered in a few
days, and to make sure she's home. I've no doubt she would be - she doesn't
like to go out yet, poor dear is still uneasy about the way her scars look -
but I do think she'd be just fine if you were to go to her house and just knock
on the door and give her the message. Could you do that for me, my dear?"
"You bet. In
fact, I'll do it now, before it gets any later in the day. June's going to go
lie down and take a nap; she just doesn't know it yet! I can head out there and
be back before supper. I'll take care of it."
"Oh, you're a
lovely man! I tell June all the time how lovely you are. You make sure she
rests! Now, I'll let you go because I know you want to get out there and back
soon - and thank you very much! Hugs to June..."
After promising to
give his wife a hug, Frank hangs up and heads back out to the porch, where June
has curled herself into the glider cushions and is almost asleep. He runs a
gentle hand over her hair and as she rouses herself a bit, explains, "That
was Adele. She wants me to run over to her new tenant's house and deliver a
message. Seems this Cora Bledsoe doesn't have a phone
yet." He leans down and brushes a kiss over her soft lips, smiling
against them when she nibbles at his lower lip and murmurs a vow to him.
"Okay, but
hurry back. I may fall asleep here but when I wake up I want to eat - and then
I want to 'eat.' I'm sure you know what I mean." Her eyes are half closed
and heavy with drowsiness and sensual promise. And the heat in her loving kiss
sends Frank's temperature soaring in the late-afternoon summer day.
He groans quietly,
"You're a wicked woman, to render me all hot and bothered and then send me
on my way. Just for that I'm gonna get you. Later." The threat lies thick
and sweet between them, and with one final biting kiss Frank straightens and
walks off the porch, managing to make it halfway to the truck before Kevin
bursts through the screen door and barrels down the steps, Briggs hot on his
heels.
"Dad! Whereyougoingtakemewithyou!!!"
It's a one-word screech delivered Kevin-style, and it stops Frank in his
tracks. He turns and smiles at his adorable son, running up the sidewalk in his
cut-off jeans and baggy Knicks tee-shirt; hair
sticking up on end and a gob of jelly at the corner of his mouth, a half-eaten
sandwich in one sticky hand. Kevin wants to go along for the ride and so
apparently does the yapping Briggs. Frank sighs, knowing it would be better if
Kevin stayed at
home and kept his mother company.
He also knows that
Kevin has been cooped up a lot this month already, keeping June company...
albeit willingly. He loves hanging around his mom. Frank looks over his head
and catches June's eyes; she nods and waves them both on. "Go ahead, take
them both! I'll call Maureen and have her run over, if I feel the need for
company." Maureen Stokes is their closest neighbor and a terrible gossip -
and luckily for them, a nurse's aide as well. Frank nods in relief and catching
his son's hopeful eyes, jerks a thumb toward the truck.
"Okay, you can
come. But get rid of that sandwich and clean off your face before you climb in
the truck!" No sooner do the words leave his mouth than Kevin plops himself down in the grass, gives Briggs the remainder
of his sandwich and then lets the eager dog clean the jelly off his face. June
laughs aloud and Frank just shakes his head in mock-disgust. He hauls his son
to his feet and tosses him over his shoulder, Kevin hanging upside down and
shrieking and Briggs barking wildly all the way to the truck. All three of them
pile into the front cab. Kevin waves to his mother and June waves back,
giggling at their uninhibited display. She adores her men... but sometimes it's
nice when she's surrounded by peace and quiet. As they roar off she rests her
hands on her tummy, whispering secrets to the child nestled in her womb,
finally dozing in the warm summer afternoon.
Adele's old place
is about a three-mile drive up Little Bluff Road. On the way Frank cautions
Kevin about Cora Bledsoe. "She was in a fire, Son - she got burned pretty
badly. She lost her husband and her dogs in that fire."
Kevin listens with
curiously adult-like attention. "Did she have kids, Dad? Did they get
hurt, too? I'll bet she was real sad about her dogs." Kevin has an arm
hooked around Brigg's neck and the faithful dog leans into his young master as
they bump over the uneven surface of Little Bluff Road. Kevin can't imagine ever
losing Briggs. Poor lady...
Frank's pride at
his son's sympathy is evident in his voice. "I don't think she has any
children, Kevin, which probably makes it all the harder for her. Kids could be
a real comfort to her right now. Just remember not to stare at her, okay? I'll
bet she's feeling really shy about people looking at her."
Kevin nods, "I
won't stare, Dad, I promise. Briggs won't, either. Maybe if she likes us an'
and she doesn't get shy, we can come visit her sometimes and maybe she can come
see us - and we can be like her family." The little boy's voice is serious
and endearing; Frank feels pride swell his heart all over again. He and June
really do have a very special son...
*************
The sound of a
gunning engine in her driveway rouses Cora from her intense focus on the book
in her hand and she sets it down and rises from her chair, moving toward the
window and peeking out from lace curtains. She spots the boy first, jumping
down from the passenger side of an old beat-up truck. In the afternoon sun his
brown hair gleams with reddish glints; he's slender and gangly. Cora finds
herself holding her breath, willing the child to turn toward the house, but his
face remains at an angle as he reaches up to the window of the truck and
scratches at the ears of a panting golden retriever sitting in the cab.
When the tall man
with the thick silver hair moves around from the driver's side of the truck and
comes into view, Cora Bledsoe gasps aloud. Her eyes dart to her car, parked on
the side of her driveway and she silently bemoans that she left it out instead
of putting it in the small garage, as she should have done. Better to let folks
think there's no one home.
Damn it. She
doesn't want to answer the door. She doesn't want to face this man... this boy.
She's not ready to face anyone. A child, for heaven's sake! He'd take one look
at her face and his horror would be absolute and painfully evident to her.
She's not ready...
Her doorbell rings.
Cora stands in the middle of the living room, wringing her hands. She's not
ready. She's NOT READY! She may never be ready... and yet, she's not a coward
either. She's not. The things she has seen, in her life... the losses she has
endured. The tough exterior she has had to layer on, over the years...
With a deep and
fortifying breath, Cora reaches in her pocket for the oversized sunglasses she
always keeps handy. She slips them onto her nose, steps to the door, grasps the
handle and turns it.
************
That evening, after
the supper dishes have been dried and Kevin romps with Briggs out in the yard
for a precious half-hour before bed, June and Frank snuggle together on the
front porch glider and watch the fireflies flickering in the darkness. Briggs'
barking is loud in the quiet stillness; Kevin's giggles sweet on the night air.
June leans her head on Frank's shoulder, and sighs in contentment as his warm
hand rubs her stomach in slow circles.
"That feels so
good, Frank. Don't stop. And while you're not stopping, you can tell me about
Cora Bledsoe."
Frank drops a kiss
on the top of her hair, and considers the visit he and Kevin had with the
reclusive woman. "Well, she seemed nervous, but genuinely nice. Very shy about showing her face. She had a kind of shawl or
something on her head and down enough over her forehead to obscure a lot of her
face. Sunglasses, too. Kevin was sweet to her, didn't
stare at all. He asked her about her garden and offered to go out and pull all
her weeds, and she seemed grateful for that. So Kevin let Briggs run around the
back yard while he pulled her weeds and got her flower beds cleaned up. She
gave him three dollars and Kevin was so thrilled he ran up to her and hugged
her."
Frank smiles as he
recalls the startled look on Cora Bledsoe's face when Kevin flung his arms
around her waist and hugged her. What little of her face he could see, that
is... She'd hesitantly hugged him back and Frank had seen the corner of her
mouth curl up in a stiff smile. "I think she's having a lot of trouble
with the burns on her face, right around her mouth. She smiled, but it looked
as if it was difficult for her to move those muscles."
June nods in
understanding. "I'm not surprised. Especially around the mouth, burns are
hard to heal. Grafts complicate the healing process as well because the mouth
and jaw are always moving, flexing. Takes twice as
long." She trails a slender hand along Frank's arm, adding,
"So... she was taken with Kevin? Good. That child can charm the birds out
of the trees. And I think maybe having a child around her once in a while could
really help to bring her to the point where she wouldn't mind her neighbors
coming around and helping her out, keeping her company."
"Well, I plan
on going back. I sensed she wouldn't mind at all. I told her we'd check on her
a few days after the new stove gets there, make sure
it's working properly." Frank presses another kiss on his wife's hair. He
snuggles her closer and calls a soft warning to Kevin that it's time to go in
and take a bath and wind down for the night.
An hour later,
Kevin is in bed and asleep, Briggs sprawled across his feet and snoring as
usual. Down the hall June sits in bed brushing her hair, absently noting how much
it's grown since the onset of her pregnancy. Almost to her waist, she keeps it
braided or tied back most of the time, even when she sleeps. In the small
connecting bathroom Frank rinses toothpaste from his mouth and dries off, then
turns out the light. He walks to the bed and sinks down next to June, grabbing
the brush out of her hands and finishing the task, muttering, "One thousand one... one thousand two..."
She huffs, "I
do NOT brush my hair a thousand times! Only a hundred.
Or so. You've got exactly twenty-six more strokes,
Frank... so get busy. And if you do an extra-good job of it, maybe I'll return
the favor." Her hands slip over his waist, rub the sensitive skin at hip
level as he runs the brush through her hair. Frank smothers a groan when her fingers
wander closer to his groin.
A handful of
strokes later he gives up all pretense of brushing her hair,
tosses the hairbrush over his shoulder and pins his wife to the bed, hands
gripping her carefully, pressing her down gently. His mouth on hers is anything
but careful or gentle, though... his tongue devours her, demanding entry,
taking possession, overwhelming her. Conquering, and in turn being conquered...
There are times
when their kisses are lethal weapons aimed at each other for the sole purpose
of marking what's theirs. She bites and he nips; she stabs with her tongue and
he leaves evidence of his passion on her neck, visible for days. Since her
pregnancy has advanced into the final stages it seems their need for each other
has advanced as well, complicated by the enforced abstinence of intercourse.
That denial has only strengthened the power of their alternative intimacy,
making it even more urgent and needful.
Like
now.
June reclines
against a mound of pillows and watches Frank through half-closed eyes as he
rips his way out of his boxers, then tugs at her panties. She should feel like
a beached whale this far along into her pregnancy but thanks to the way Frank
always lets her know how beautiful she is to him, June has retained a calm
confidence about her body and the way her husband finds matchless favor with it
regardless of her girth. She is a few days shy of her nine-month point, the
baby has begun to drop into position. She can't walk unless she waddles, her
ankles are swollen and she can't see her feet even when she's lying flat on her
back. Frank assures her they're still attached to her legs and still cute...
June believes him
when he tells her she's more beautiful than ever. How can she not believe him?
He has a very convincing way about him.
Her eyes close in
bliss when she feels his eager mouth trail over her skin, leaving a wet track
of kisses everywhere. Gentle on her tender breasts, laving
each nipple lovingly - lingeringly against her distended stomach, where his
unborn daughter sleeps. Passionately when it slides down and catches the
wispy ends of her silky, damp hair, parts the slick flesh and delves inside for
a famished drink of her. She's so sensitive now, so full, so
ready. And he reaps the benefits of the way nature has prepared her for the
delivery of their Megan. It makes her slippery and hot and melting for him.
A few well-placed
sweeps of his tongue and one rough little nip of her throbbing clit and June is gasping, shuddering and coming, fast and hard. Frank
holds her hips steady and applies his tongue in gentle licks to prolong her
pleasure as long as she seems to need it. He releases her when she emits a
final shudder, her fingers unclenching from his scalp where she'd gripped at
him in the throes of her climax. She sinks back into the pillows and Frank
comes to rest beside her, cuddling her close, kissing her sweetly, loving the
way she she's responded to him. He's aching, pulsing with need, but right now
it's so much more important to him that she feel good, that he could give to
her.
Sleepy blue eyes
gaze into his and a smile trembles on her lips; she whispers to him,
"Mulder... I wanted to do you first! You're so sneaky..."
Her voice is a mere
thread of sound on the warm bedroom air; as always it's deep in the night when
she gives into the desire to call him by his real name. After the years they've
been hidden away in other places and in Simmons, old habits remain in the
forefront of their consciousness. And that's a good thing, but for now...
He shivers when her
hand finds his hard length, curls around him, begins to stroke him. On their sides facing each other, an extra pillow underneath her
tummy to cushion it - holding him in both hands, cupping him, running a firm
palm over his flesh. Biting kisses take his lips, his tongue, slender
legs slip against his, fingers drive him up, and up... until he tightens and
swells, groans aloud, eyes rolling back in his head as the explosion of his
climax coats her hands and his lower body.
And her name on the
shuddering sigh he pours into her neck, "Scully, my God, so good..."
She echoes it back
to him, "So good..."
Three minutes later
she's asleep in his arms, mumbling her love for him on a thick yawn that warms
his shoulder where her cheek rests. Frank rolls their bodies together, mindful
of the pillow resting under June's stomach, and falls asleep with the scent of
them strong in the night air he breathes. He's sticky and so is she. They don't
care. It barely registers as he holds her close and returns her vow of love in
a hoarse whisper that stirs the fine hair at her temple.
In the dark they
smile in their sleep.
***************
In the clear summer
evening Cora Bledsoe sits on her front porch and listens to the night sounds
all around her. Used to the rather discordant music of a big city, the traffic
on congested streets and the whistle of a train once in a while, the soft
silence of Bluff Ridge is a little unnerving. With an occasional hoot owl and a
few crickets making noise, the faint barking of a dog... she's slowly getting
used to it. Slowly losing her fear, her unsteadiness.
Today's visit from her neighbors down the Ridge helped a lot. Especially the boy.
Kevin... he's a
sweet child, enthusiastic and affectionate, wise beyond his tender years. She
only spoke with him for a few minutes but his personality came shining through.
She'll see him again, in just a few days, after her stove gets installed. The
boy and his father - Frank - are coming over to make sure everything's in
proper working order.
Cora smiles a
little. It was smart to come here. It was the right thing to do. Simmons is a
safe place. She can feel it - she is glad of it. She'll find her feet, slowly -
as is her way. She'll go out in public a little more, maybe without her hat and
shawl, as she feels safer. She will.
Cora leans her head
against the back of the chair and looks up at the stars. She did the right
thing, the only thing she could do. And when a glittery shooting star passes
far, far overhead, Cora wishes on it, impulsively - wishes that those whom she
loves best in the world are sleeping dreamless slumbers tonight; that they are
safe, too.
*****************
Tara Scully is a
woman who has lost more of her family than most women, and come back all the
stronger for the loss.
She was an only
child, raised by elderly grandparents when her own parents were killed in a
fifteen-car pileup on the
She'd lived with
them after the funeral, lived in their mausoleum of a house until the day she
married Bill Scully. The happiest day of her life, because she was gaining a
husband and a savior, all wrapped up into one muscular, brown-haired package...
and he came with a big family, too.
As the years went
by and
Pop
Bill.
Melissa. Grannie Meg. Those three alone just about broke the Scully spirit,
and of course over the years they all had to find ways to deal with what Dana
endured in the name of her job and her partnership with Fox Mulder. Well,
The man she chose
was a good man.
When they lost Dana
and Mulder - and William - it almost killed the Scully spirit altogether. The
only day blacker, in Tara's opinion, was the day a few short months ago when
she sat under a dark green canvas awning in Falls Church and watched a rosewood
coffin covered in pale yellow roses slowly descend into the spring ground. She
held her head high, though - she cried openly but her eyes remained steady, her
demeanor Scully-proud. Mom would have wanted it that way.
On this warm summer
day,
Maybe it's because
yesterday she found an old photograph of her and Melissa mugging at the camera
during a visit Missy made to their house one Easter. And maybe it's because
Charlie's wife Deborah called her this morning and they both had not only a
good talk but a good cry, over the phone. Talking about Mom...
Mom. That's all it is, truly.
She misses Maggie
Scully. Badly. It doesn't get any easier, and it
won't. Open and honest with her husband about her feelings,
Just like that.
Tara folds up the
last of her laundry and piles everything neatly into the basket, then rises and
stretches, bends and hefts the load, takes it upstairs to be distributed in
various dressers. It's a quiet day and Matthew and Mary are at the neighbor's
house, playing with her kids. Barbara lives next door and her children are the
same age as theirs, and twice a week she and Tara take turns babysitting the
entire brood so they can each finagle some precious free time.
Think about how
much she misses Mom.
******************
The pounding on the
front door is loud and unrelenting. In a back bedroom he snaps awake and sits
up, rubbing hard at his myopic eyes.
If he squints very
hard he can see the oversized glow-in-the-dark numerals on his alarm clock,
telling him it's barely
He staggers to the
door, not bothering to yank on his jeans. Whoever is there, they deserve to be
subjected to the sight of his scrawny ass, as punishment for waking him up. The
baggy tee shirt he's wearing barely covers the family jewels in front but he
doesn't bother tugging it down; instead he slams his glasses on his nose and
glances through the oversized peephole. The identity of his early-morning door-pounder causes him to emit a stream of curses under his
breath, as he throws all ten deadbolts and wrenches the door open, an
additional furious verbal blast at the ready -
Only to gawk with
comic shock as the tall figure pushes past him and forces his way into the
darkened apartment, trench coat flapping around his long legs.
"What
the..." Sputtering protest gives way under the piercing glare the intruder
pins him with.
"Shut up,
Goldilocks - and tell me what the fuck you and the other Stooges think you're
doing." A large hand gestures in his direction. "And for Christ's
sake put on some skivvies! I'd rather not have to look at your 'boys' this
early in the morning!"
Ringo Langly scowls at the big
man standing in the middle of his living room and his retort is edged with
sarcasm. "My 'boys' and I were sleeping, 'Sir'. What I choose to dress
them in while I goddamn sleep is MY business. What the hell do you want?"
Once upon a time
Langly would have treated this man with respect and a fair amount of deference
when speaking to him. The man commanded respect. But not any
more, not for several years now. Not since he'd come back from a visit
to a Stargate convention in
He shakes his head
in disgust, sending his tangled, unbound hair flying, and turns to stomp back
to his bedroom. He barely takes a step when his arm is grasped and twisted
painfully up behind his back, pushing a hoarse grunt of pain from his throat.
The hand shakes him hard, sending more shooting pain up and down his arm, and
the voice drops, becomes more threatening.
"Get Hick and
Byers out here. Now. I want answers. Don't even think
of dicking me around."
As Langly struggles
against the unrelenting grip on his arm, John Byers and Melvin Frohike hurry down the hall, two bedroom doors slamming
behind them as they rush to see what all the noise is about. And they both
screech to a stop in their bare feet when they view the tense little tableau in
the living room...
And man oh man,
Walter Skinner looks pissed.
A few minutes later
they're lined up on the sofa, Langly's nudity covered up with a hastily-donned
pair of sweatpants. John is visibly tense, Melvin is as bristly as a hedgehog
on steroids and Ringo just wants to punch out
Skinner's lights. At the funeral they'd been ignored by most of Mrs. Scully's
family; they'd expected that. But Skinner had treated them like shit, refusing
to speak to them, come anywhere near them. He'd sat with the Scully men and
offered them his support, completely ignoring how he and the guys were hurting.
Hell, the loss of Maggie Scully had hit them hard. She'd always treated them
with kindness.
On his feet, pacing
back and forth, Walter Skinner looks mean, exhausted and mean. He's staring at
them, one after another, as if he can't quite decide whether he wants to
interrogate them or just shoot them. Finally he stops in front of Byers and his
eyes bore into him. John meets the hard stare with more calm than he feels. And
Skinner is not fooled.
"I want you to
tell me everything you know about Margaret Scully's death." The voice is
uncompromising. Byers resists the urge to grind the
heels of his hands into his eyes, wondering why in hell when being grilled for
information he always gets chosen first to speak for the three of them. Damn it
all...
He manages to keep
his tone level and calm. "I know what you know... Sir.
Mrs. Scully's car was forced off the Little Orleans Bridge, outside of
Skinner's frown
deepens. "Bullshit. It wasn't a fucking accident and you know it. I want
some answers. And I want to know when Maggie Scully first told you she
suspected someone was trying to kill her."
Frohike visibly startles when he
hears that, and his eyes are wide behind the thick eyeglass lenses. "Kill
her? What're you talking about? Who was trying to kill -"
Langly interrupts
with a shocked, "Maggie Scully never said anything to us about someone trying
to kill her! Jesus, man - don't you think we'd have come to you, if she told us
that? So she could get some kind of protection?" The bewilderment on his
face is absolute and sincere.
Skinner stares hard
at Langly, deep into the eyes covered by the Buddy Holly specs - and nods to
himself. One of his biggest questions has just been answered; Langly doesn't
know anything. Satisfied, Skinner turns his attention to Melvin Frohike. The little guy is a tough talker, feisty as hell
and a fierce protector of all the Scully family members. And yet... he's pasty
white, obviously in shock upon hearing that Maggie might have been murdered.
Skinner sighs and rubs blunt fingers into his weary face. That leaves John
Byers. He eyes the tall, quiet Gunman.
Of the three, John
Byers has always been a bit of an enigma. Intelligent almost to the point of
being a genius, polite, articulate - and the most likely to not spill his guts about what he knows.
Skinner decides
that perhaps confrontation might be the way to get around Byers' studied calm.
"Look, Byers... I know Maggie Scully spoke to you; called you on the phone
and told you she thought someone was trying to kill her. I have proof." He
doesn't have anything of the sort; he's bluffing big-time. But maybe, if he can
rattle Byers' cage, just a little...
But John Byers has
been around enough these past several years - been around Mulder, Scully,
Skinner himself; seen enough to learn the value of half-truths and smoke
screens. And he's learned how to look someone dead in the eye and lie through
his teeth - occasional contact with one CGB Spender
taught him that. He employs that talent now, in his quiet, effective way.
"Maggie Scully
never called me on the phone. She didn't even know where we lived. I saw her
once or twice after Mulder and Scully's funeral. It was... hard... talking to
her, knowing what we knew about her children, knowing we could never tell her
the truth. She left this world thinking they were dead. Her family thinks
they're dead, have been dead for five years." John Byers ignores the
stares of his best friends, and stands, facing Walter Skinner. In his bare feet
Byers is only an inch shorter than the tough ex-Marine.
He squares his
shoulders and his voice is low, firmer and more decisive than it's ever been,
as he addresses Skinner with his habitual polite and erudite manner. "Let
it alone, Sir. Leave it be. What good would it do, re-opening the case? If
Maggie Scully was in danger then possibly her family could also suffer the same
fate, one day. For whatever reason, if someone wanted her dead - and I see no
proof at all of that being the case - if someone wanted that, they could easily
turn their attention to her sons and their families." Byers watches
Skinner carefully, and knows the very second he has the AD's
grudging attention and possibly his agreement.
He presses on,
"They have wives and children to think about. The Scully family has lost
more than any family we've ever seen. Do you want to be responsible for
stirring up the shit that sends more harm their way? Do any of us? For their
sakes we have got to leave it be." Byers holds Skinner's regard with unblinking eyes. On either
side of him, Frohike and then Langly get to their
feet, standing shoulder to shoulder with Byers. It's a united front, thrown up
for the first time against someone they would have never in their pasts dared
to contradict.
As Walter Skinner
stares at all of them as if they've lost their minds, the words he utters say
it all.
"Ah,
shit..."
****************
"June? Baby, wake up. It's time to go." Frank bends over the
sofa and kisses his wife awake. June's eyes open slowly, a little confused. She
sits up and rubs a hand over her face, disoriented.
"How long was
I out? I just sat down for a moment, I thought!" June swings her legs to
the floor and gratefully accepts Frank's hands, as he pulls her out of the soft
cushions. She sways a bit on her feet and leans on her husband, yawning.
Frank snuggles her
for a minute, loving the sleep-warm scent of her skin. They'll probably be late
for their appointment but he doesn't care. He could have roused her half an
hour ago, but she needed her sleep. He grins down into her pretty face.
"You were asleep for about an hour, I guess..." Her squawk of protest
makes him chuckle.
"You let me
sleep for an hour? Jeez, Frank... Dr. Lowe is going to kill both of us! He's
only in town once a month as it is. This is the only chance we'll have to talk
to him, get to know him, before the baby is born." June is in a huff and
Frank merely smirks at her as he makes her sit down so he can tie her sneakers
for her.
"You mean, so
you can grill him. You don't want to get to know him, face it. You want to
check out his delivery room and give him some doc to doc grief." Frank
pulls her to her feet again and June graces him with a scowl and a retort he
hasn't heard her say to him in a very long time.
"Oh, bite me,
Mulder..."
Maureen has Kevin
for the day, as slave labor for her garden. At least, that's what she has told
Kevin, who for some reason has deemed himself too old for a real babysitter.
It's easy enough for Maureen to let him pretend he's just come over for the day
to work like a farm hand, if that's what he wants.
As they head into
town June adjusts herself in her seat and tries to ease the ache in her back.
She knows what that ache means; it happened with Kevin, too. It's actually the
beginning of her labor. She hasn't said anything to Frank yet because she knows
he'd only worry needlessly. He's been looking for a reason to freak out on her
these past nine months. June's not about to give him one, at
least not while they're driving. It's been difficult enough for him to
keep a level head throughout the pregnancy. Truthfully, June's proud of him; he
hasn't given her a reason to want to kill him.
Yet.
June waits in one
of the small examination rooms, Frank standing next to her as she reclines full
length on the padded table. As large with baby as she is, still her small frame
is swallowed up in the huge cotton gown, obviously intended for a big,
strapping farmer instead of a petite farmer's wife.
Frank plays with
the fingers of her left hand as she shifts uncomfortably on the high table.
There's no way she'll ever be comfortable again, June thinks, not until their
Megan pops out of her snug little cocoon. She sighs loudly and Frank levels a
concerned stare at her; June shakes her head and sends him a reassuring smile,
just as Dr. Lowe opens the door and enters. He's short and rotund and balding;
of an age to retire but enjoying his job far too much to buckle down to his
wife's demands for a larger chunk of his time. His eyes twinkle, and if he had
a beard and more hair he'd make a great Santa Claus.
He gives June's
hand a firm shake, repeats the action with Frank and them beams on the both of
them. "Well! Nice to meet you both! Ready to set this
little one free?"
No sooner do the
words leave his mouth than June's entire body jerks in surprise, her mouth
forms a perfect "O" of shock... and she looks down at the thick white
paper padding underneath her gown - which is suddenly soaking wet. As Frank
gapes at her, June clutches Dr. Lowe's arm as a powerful contraction sweeps
over her. She rides it out, biting the inside of her mouth to keep from crying
aloud... and when it's over the grin she aims at her husband is huge, albeit
shaky, and her answer immediately causes every drop of color to drain from
Frank's face.
The urge to laugh
aloud in pure joy is hard to resist, but June manages it, instead addressing
Dr. Lowe with an enthusiastic, "I'd say we're both ready, Doctor! I've
been having contractions all day. Frank, you'd better bring in my suitcase,
it's behind the seat on the passenger side."
Frank stutters,
"Contractions? When did you have contractions? You never told me you were
having cont - wait a minute... WHAT suitcase?"
She merely blows
him a kiss as the chuckling Dr. Lowe mops up the fluid dripping on the floor.
"Backaches, Frank. I've had them all day. Just another
kind of contraction. And I packed the suitcase and put it in the car a
week ago. Just in case."
As Dr. Lowe pokes
his head out the examining room door and hollers for a wheelchair, Frank sinks
onto the nearest chair and grips June's hand with a nervously clammy one of his
own, muttering, "Okay, here we go, baby, now I don't want you to worry or
panic -"
"Yes, Frank."
"Everything is
gonna be fine, sometimes second babies are early, isn't that so, that sometimes
second babies are early?"
"Yes,
Frank."
"I should call
Kevin. Do you think I should call Kevin? Maybe Maureen can bring him in. He
needs to be here. He should be here, don't you think
Kevin needs to be here?"
"Yes,
Frank."
"What's taking
that nurse so long, Doctor? June needs to get going! She needs to start doing
her delivery thing, don't you think she should be in the delivery room,
delivering?"
Lowe is a
fun-loving sort of physician, and he just can't resist. He pats the nervous
father-to-be on his back, and retorts meekly, "Yes, Frank..."
**************
Kevin bounces in
the front seat of Maureen Stokes' Jeep Cherokee. Every other bounce has got a
trail of excited chatter tagged onto it, and Maureen chuckles at the sight of
her young neighbor. Listening to him is half the fun, as she drives the last
ten miles or so down
"Are we there
yet Maureen? I think we're almost there! I got to pick out Megan's middle name
did you know I picked it out? Mom said anything goes so I picked 'Daisy' an'
she said that was okay! So I'm gonna call her 'Daisy' an' I'll bet she'll be
pretty like a daisy an' I can't wait to see her do you think she'll look like
me? I sure hope she looks like me an' maybe like Mom too 'cause Mom's so pretty
don't you think Mom's pretty Maureen?"
It's a monologue
spouted with hardly a breath taken and accompanied by seat-bouncing from a
bright-eyed boy who's been waiting a long time to say hello to his baby sister.
Maureen reaches out a hand to tousle Kevin's thick hair, and as they take the
last curve in the road and hang a sharp left onto
"Look, Kevin,
there's the clinic! And there's your dad's car. Let's get you inside and hooked
up with your dad, okay? Maybe if you're lucky you'll get to see your mom before
she has Megan." The Jeep comes go a stop and Kevin wrestles with his
seat-belt, determined not to miss a thing. He flings himself out of the car and
runs toward the front doors of the clinic, Maureen hurrying to keep up with him
and trying so hard not to laugh again. He's just the cutest kid in the world.
As they reach the
doors they open and Frank is there to catch Kevin before he goes barreling
inside. The clinic is fairly relaxed and its employees are used to children
running in and out during the day. Still, it's better to keep the more
rambunctious kids - like Kevin - under some kind of control, to save the sanity
of those who work here. And Kevin is more than happy to let his dad haul him up
into his arms and give him a huge hug, then set him on his feet and take his
hand.
Frank sends a
grateful smile Maureen's way as they walk toward the OB. "Thanks a lot,
Maureen - are you staying or do you have to get back?"
Maureen shakes her
head as she walks next to him. "Are you kidding? I'm staying right here. I
want to see that little bundle of joy as soon as she pops out and you and Kevin
have had a chance to monopolize her a bit! I'll wait my turn. But I haven't
seen a brand-new baby in a long time. Gotta refresh
my memory on how sweet they are!"
They reach the
double doors of the
Five minutes later,
Frank and Kevin are all geared up in their surgical ensembles and Maureen is
waving them off as they head into the delivery room. Frank retains a firm hold
on Kevin's hand and explains to him that it may be a while yet until his mom
delivers his sister. "You can stay as long as you're quiet, Son. Okay? Mom
has to concentrate and if you make a lot of noise she can't do that. And if she
would rather not have you - or me - in there, we're gonna have to suck it up
like a couple of big guys, okay?"
Kevin is somber as
he nods agreement, proud as can be that his dad thinks
he's a 'big guy'. He knows it hurts to deliver a baby; his mom told him all
about it. He wants to see his sister born, but he's not sure if he wants to
watch his mom feeling hurt. He'll just have to see how bad it all is... When he
speaks his thoughts aloud Frank can do nothing else but hug the boy, thinking
for probably the thousandth time how very special their son really is.
In the delivery
room June is keeping track of her contractions, her breathing and her anxiety.
When she looks up from the birthing table and sees Frank and Kevin standing
there in green scrubs, the little boy's slight body swamped with loose
material, her grin is wide and she's so happy to see them both that she almost
misses the beginning of the next contraction. She holds out both hands and her
men each take one; Kevin leans in and kisses her cheek, a big wet boy-kiss that
brings tears to her eyes.
On her other side
Frank hovers, and this time she doesn't mind it at all. She's got her husband
and her son by her side, each contraction is like a victory, for they signal
the imminent arrival of their beloved baby girl... and if there's one vital
person missing, she tells herself it's okay. It truly is...
June holds her
husband's and her son's hands tightly, and begins the countdown to Megan.
*******************
In the garden Cora
Bledsoe kneels, pulling at a few weeds and admiring the way her columbine have
taken off since the bulk of those choking plants have been removed. Her stove
is working fine, and she's looking forward to seeing Frank and Kevin again.
He'd told her they'd be back in a few days to make sure the appliance wasn't
giving her any trouble.
Cora sits back on
her heels and runs a palm over her damp forehead. Looking around, she sees no
one about; the road winding by her house is empty and has been since she first
came outside. The fields are deserted, not even a tractor in sight. She fingers
the shawl covering her head and obscuring most of her face. It's a lightweight
cotton but still too warm on a day like this. But she's not ready to push it
back and lift her face to the sun. Maybe another week...
"Mrs. Bledsoe!
Yoo hoo!" The call startles her and she jumps,
straightening up, automatically tugging at the shawl as she looks toward her
driveway and sees Adele Pennington walking toward her. Cora hadn't even heard
the car drive up. Satisfied her face is as covered as possible, Cora forces as
much of a smile as she can and waits for Adele to reach her side.
Adele is all
smiles. "My dear, I hope you don't mind that I dropped in on you this way!
I'm just checking up on that new stove. Is everything working properly?"
Cora breathes a
small sigh of relief, then chides herself for her
worry. This kind woman is not the enemy. "Yes, thank you, it's doing fine.
It's very kind of you to stop by." She means it. When she first moved here
she didn't want to see anyone. But it's hard to resist the kindness of these
Simmons folks.
Adele waves off her
thanks. "It's no problem at all, truly! We Simmons-ites
stick together! You'll find it to be true, as you get out more and meet
people." She smiles at the shawl-covered woman, and adds, "Well, I
must go! I'm due in town in an hour. Some friends of mine just had a baby, and
I am simply chomping at the bit to see the little darling! Actually, you know
them... Frank, the lovely man who came over to deliver the message about your
stove! He and his wife June just had a little girl."
Adele waves
cheerily, smiling at Cora one last time, so eager to get to town and get her
hands on Megan that she doesn't notice the look on Cora's face. She climbs into
her car and backs down the driveway, leaving the other woman with what could be
considered a broad smile curving her lips.
Walking slowly back
to her house, Cora is thinking about pretty pink and white girl-babies with
eyes like the sweet boy who gave her a hug when she paid him to weed her
garden. A baby... it's been so very long since she's looked into the face of a
tiny newborn, that most miraculous of miracles.
Cora pauses by her
hall table, removing her shawl and folding it neatly in her hands. There's a
floppy sun-hat on the table, next to a tall vase full of daisies. Cora drops
the shawl and runs a finger over the wide brim of the hat.
It's awfully hard
to resist the pull of a newborn baby... and besides, maybe it's about time she
started going to town, once in a while. Maybe it's time she stopped being so
damned skittish -
Cora reaches for
the sun-hat - and her keys.
**************
"Kevin, hand
me those booties, Sweetheart." June puts the finishing touches on the
newborn-sized diaper that swamps Megan's tiny body. On her back in the middle
of her mommy's hospital bed, Megan is perfect, a peaches
and cream mixture of pale red hair, cloudy gray eyes and her father's long
fingers and feet. June's hoping her eyes will clear to hazel, or maybe blue;
Kevin had the same gray when he was born, and his eyes went blue in just a few
weeks.
Looking down at her
daughter, June thinks there couldn't have been an easier birth than this tiny
girl-baby of theirs. She came into the world with barely a whimper and allowed
herself to be cleaned off and dressed in her very first diaper and tee shirt
with a minimum of complaint. She spent the rest of her initial day on earth
feeding like a little piggie, sleeping in her daddy's
arms and being cuddled by her ecstatic older brother, who has decided his
'Daisy' is better than Christmas and Easter all rolled into one.
June and Frank have
to agree on that one. Their daughter is a miracle and they are head over heels
in love with her.
June finishes
snapping the diaper pants in place and carefully maneuvers minuscule arms and
legs in the one-piece pink romper. The little collar has daisies embroidered on
it; Kevin picked it out, thrilled beyond words when he found matching booties
with daisies all over them.
Kevin hands her the
booties and June pulls them over teensy toes without a peep from the sleeping
child. She scoops the baby up and snuggles her underneath her chin, smiling
mistily when her daughter snuffles against her neck, briefly rooting for a
nipple before somehow understanding that lunch is over and it's her nap time.
Her mouth rests in damp contentment on June's shoulder and her tiny hand curls
tightly around Kevin's finger as he sits next to his mom on the rumpled
hospital bed and holds his sister's hand.
Together they wait
for Frank to finish up the release paperwork, anxious to get home. Though she
was only in overnight, June hates hospitals and cannot wait to get home and
start bonding with Megan. She feels wonderful, a little tired but that's to be
expected, of course. And yet her tiredness just melts away every time she looks
down and gazes into her baby daughter's angelic face. An angel, that's what
their Megan is - a precious little dream they'd never thought would bless them,
and yet here she is.
June kisses the
soft reddish tufts of silk on her child's head, and with her free arm gathers
Kevin closer to her side. He presses his tousled head into her shoulder and
sighs happily, his finger still held firmly in his baby sister's infant grip.
Safe to say she's already got as fierce a grip on his heart, too...
They remain in that
position on the hospital bed, neither feeling the need to say anything out
loud, both watching the sleeping baby wrapped in pale pink cotton. A soft sound
at the door, like a hesitant clearing of the throat, rouses first Kevin and
then his mother from their happy vigil. When he looks toward the door his
little face breaks into a wide grin, and his
exclamation snares June's attention -
"Mrs. Bledsoe!
Hi! Look, I've got a new sister!"
June's eyes take in
the silhouette of a woman standing in the doorway with the sun behind her; a
slender, petite form dressed in a loose long-sleeved dress, her hair and most
of her face hidden by a large straw sun-hat. A smile breaks over her lips and
she is truly touched that this reclusive woman has found enough bravery to
drive into town just to say 'hello' and see the baby.
As June rises
slowly from the bed, Cora Bledsoe steps into the room, out of the back-light of
sun, and her chin lifts a little as she returns June's smile. And that small
movement of chin and curl of one side of her mouth suddenly stops June in her
tracks, her eyes searching out Cora's from underneath that wide-brimmed hat. In
the daylight there's something about the way this woman stands, the tilt of her
head... June takes another step - and then another - and Kevin tugs his hand
loose and rushes across the room to wrap his arms around the older woman's
waist, his excited chatter full of 'Megan this' and 'Megan that'...
And as Cora smiles
down on him her hat slips to one side, just a little bit - and a lock of deep
brown wavy hair lightly streaked with gray escapes its confinement from behind
her ear, and falls against the scarred cheek - and June feels the knot of
something panicked and scary and shaky and joyous, swirling through her... A
small gasp escapes her throat when Cora finally looks up, the hat falling
completely away and most of her face visible at last. And the color drains out
of June's own face, when she looks into those eyes.
She knows those
eyes... oh, Lord. She knows those beautiful, loving eyes.
"M-Mom? Oh my God... How - Oh,
GOD... MOM!"
Maggie Scully falls
into her daughter's embrace, bringing her beloved William with her - and the
arms that close tightly around her are strong and fierce in their welcome and
padded with the small, pink-bundled body of Megan Daisy Mulder, still fast
asleep.
****************
"She's
perfect. She looks so much like you did the day you were born."
Cora holds her
granddaughter in one arm and Kevin in the other. Back on the bed, the door now
closed and locked behind them and the drapes pulled, still there is plenty of
light for everyone to see each other.
June can't take her
eyes off her mother. It's as if Mom will vanish into thin air if any of them
blinks. Sitting next to her, holding her in his arms, Frank has been swallowing
back the tears as much as his wife. He walked into the room with release papers
in his hands, about two minutes after his wife and his mother-in-law found
themselves in each other's arms, with his children squashed in between like the
filling in a Mommy sandwich. The forms had slipped from Frank's numb fingers...
and a few seconds later they were all in his arms, wife and mother-in-law, son
and daughter. All crying at once. Well, except for
Megan; she just slept on like a tiny little angel.
Looking at Cora,
Frank marvels that he never figured it out when he and Kevin visited her last
week. Granted, she'd been covered up and very little of her face had been
exposed. She'd had a large pair of sunglasses hiding her eyes and she'd spoken
in a soft, hoarse voice. But now...
He fingers the thin
latex material lying on the bed next to June. Amazing stuff, so much like human
skin it's downright creepy. Frank picks it up and examines it more closely,
commenting, "How on earth could you stand having this on your face, Mag - I mean, Mom?"
The hesitant 'Mom'
catches sweetly in Cora's ear, sending a tear overflowing down her smooth
cheek. At long last her daughter's true love is calling her 'Mom'. It's about
time...
She eyes the piece
of disfigured latex swinging from the tip of Frank's finger. She's hated
wearing the disguise, having to awaken early in the morning and spend the time
applying it. Just in case a neighbor might come by; just in case her landlady
pays a visit, in case... in case. She rubs the tear from her face and smiles
lovingly at her handsome son-in-law.
"I didn't have
a choice, my loves, truly. I hate it. Feels awful! It pulls and it's hot and it
itches. I don't know how actors wear stuff like that for hours upon hours. I
lived for the evening, when I could spend an hour or so, taking the damned
thing off in one piece so I wouldn't ruin it." She reaches out a teasing
finger and taps Frank's nose, quipping, "But as much as it bugged me, it sure
didn't hurt like that nose job of yours!"
Frank
chuckles and nods.
"I had to do it, Mom. It ended up being a great way to change the look of
my face. I tried to provoke June into punching me but the wimp chickened out. I
had to run into a door, of all things."
After the snickers
die down, June slips an arm around her mother and hugs her close. "Tell
us, Mom. Everything. I confess I'm still half-afraid
you're going to disappear right before my eyes if I let loose of you!" She
reinforces her words with a huge squeeze, which Cora happily returns. Leaning
back into the stacked-up bed pillows, Cora ruffles her fingers through June's
hair as her daughter rests her head on her shoulder. Across her knees her
grandson snoozes, tired out from the day's excitement, of discovering that the
nice lady on the Ridge that paid him to weed her garden is his for-real
grandmother. In the crook of Grandma's arm Megan snuffles softly in her sleep,
a newborn cloggy nose plaguing her, but not enough to awaken her, thankfully.
Happy...
so happy.
Cora swears she never dreamed she'd ever be this happy again, in her life. And
she owes her children one hell of an explanation, so she starts at the
beginning.
"Dana, I had
to do this. Someone was trying to kill me..."
******************
The first time it
happened Maggie Scully figured she was just on the receiving end of a
disgruntled driver. She'd been on her way to church, bright and early on a
Sunday morning. Yes, traffic had been heavy on the road and as usual there were
drivers all around her, taking stupid chances. Everyone did it a time or two;
you're in a hurry, mind isn't on your driving, you miss your exit... there are
all kinds of reasons to act dumb behind the wheel.
Later in the day,
Maggie thought back to the incident and just couldn't remember doing anything
that might have angered another motorist. And yet she'd done just that, for as
she approached her exit a car came up behind her, too fast for the exit ramp
speed. They'd plowed into her from behind, knocking her to the right side, sending
her car skittering over loose gravel and onto the ramp shoulder. She'd fought
to hold the wheel steady, and it was only her own reduced speed that had kept
her from spinning back out into off-ramp traffic. Shaken, she'd sat for a
minute, trying to collect her wits, then she'd inched
back on the ramp and taken the rest of the exit. She'd gone to church, and as
the day had worn on she'd more or less forgotten the incident.
About three days
later, again on the road, driving to the supermarket, it had happened again.
This time a car sideswiped hers, on her passenger side, as she maneuvered
herself into the left lane to pass a slowpoke driving below speed limit. As
soon as she eased into the left lane and sped up, that slowpoke car next to her
accelerated, swerved into her lane and pushed at her,
full-length. Since it was a three-lane road on her side, the swipe had her
battling like mad to hold her position in the middle. Thankfully the car
inching up to her left had seen what Mr. Slowpoke was up to and had backed off, otherwise Maggie could easily have been in the middle
of a pile-up.
Heart in her
throat, Maggie had somehow managed to keep her car from spinning out. The roads
were dry, and she was very lucky. With one car watching out for her on the left
and the car that swiped her peeling away from the scene, she'd been able to
signal right, slow down and stop on the berm. Shaken
to the core, Maggie hadn't thought to catch the license plate. She'd made it to
the market without further incident, shopped and drove home on as many back
roads as she could. And she still didn't put two and two together, until a
third experience finally brought home to her the ugly and horrifying truth:
someone wanted her dead.
***************
"I have never
been so afraid, Da - um, June. I sat in a locked
house the night it happened that third time, trying to figure out why someone
would want to harm me. It made no sense at all. Then, I got a phone call a few
days later. I didn't recognize the voice on the other end, but I remember very
well the words he said." Cora takes a deep breath and she can feel her
eyes tear up as she remembers the hoarse words in her ear...
"A friend of
mine wants to know where your daughter is, Mrs. Scully. My friend doesn't
really believe it's her body in the ground under that fancy headstone. If I
were you, I'd be doing my best to flush Agent Scully out of hiding... the kid,
too. Oh, and do yourself a favor... don't mention this. Not to anyone..." The !click! in her ear had been
very loud in the quiet room...
Cora raises damp
eyes to her horrified daughter and son-in-law. "I got the same phone call
for three nights in a row, at exactly the same time of night. Same voice, same
words. By then I was so petrified I didn't leave my house for a week. I thought
for sure somebody would be waiting outside for me. I realized this person hoped
I'd get in touch with you and you'd be willing to save my life, so to speak, by
coming out of hiding and allowing yourself to be taken. Obviously there was no
way in hell I was going to let that happen, but I was at a loss as to whom I
could turn for help. Finally, I made a call. But it wasn't to Walter Skinner. I
called John Byers." Cora wipes tears from her face and leans into the
strong arm Frank winds around her shoulders, as she struggles to continue the
narrative.
"I remember
you both telling me once that if I ever needed help to go to the Gunmen. I
hated to involve them but I was going crazy. And I knew John was the only one
who knew your exact location. So I called him on my cell phone. I told him
everything. Looking back I realize how risky it had been, calling him - they
could have had every phone in the house bugged, for all I knew - but I figured
my cell was okay to use.
"John told me
the only way to keep me safe was for me to disappear, as soon as something
could be arranged. It was his idea to swap cars with me for a few weeks, his
idea to go out and drive around just to see if anyone would harass me on the
road again. He said if they wanted my death to look like an accident then a
vehicular crash would be the logical method. He was right. We swapped cars very
early one morning - I still remember how scared I was to venture out, convinced
I was being followed - and I took his car and drove to
"I hid out
there for two weeks, dressing in men's clothes, locked away in a cottage
outside of
Frank's jaw drops
open at the mention of the river. "Holy sh -
that river moves fast! What made him think to use the river? And how on earth
did John get out of the car?"
Cora shrugs,
"John Byers is a very smart and resourceful man. I think he'd make a great
FBI agent. He decided to force their hand, I guess you could say. He made a point
of traveling over the bridge, at least twice a day. Made it look as if I was in
the habit of taking that road every day. He drove it at nine in the morning and
at seven at night. He followed that routine for a week before the creep finally
took the bait. And John was ready for him... he had a scuba-pack in the front
seat, and left a window partially open, too. When he was forced off the road he
just let it happen. By the time he hit the river he was breathing from the
tank, and it didn't take long at all for him to ease out, once the car had
sunk. He kicked clear and the river did the rest."
June has been
listening all this time, fascinated. She exclaims in admiration, "I never
knew Byers had it in him! I am impressed. That river is so deep and the undertow
can be strong; it was a stroke of genius for him to think of using it. But the
risk he took! He could have been sucked right under, too. I assume the police
dragged for the car, and did find it?"
Cora nods,
"Yes, three days later they found the car. And truly it's a miracle he
came out of there alive. The man has nerves of steel! I'd never have expected
it of him, judging by what little I'd seen of him in the past. Being a powerful
swimmer also helped; unbeknownst to probably any of us, John has been swimming
for most of his life. He'd somehow pushed at the door enough with his feet that
it gave the impression of succumbing to water pressure. When no body was found
inside, the authorities assumed that I'd somehow freed myself from the sinking
car but that the current just took me away. It's a deep, huge and long river.
It could be months until they find the 'body', if they even bother to continue
looking... and think of the damage all those hungry fish could do, in the
meantime!"
Her grin is meant
to calm the twin looks of horror on their faces, and it succeeds, a little.
June shivers and Frank releases a pent-up whoosh of air from his lungs, not
even realizing he'd been holding his breath. He hugs his mother-in-law close,
clasping June's fingers with his free hand, and thinks about the level of
friendship and devotion that prompted John Byers to take such chances with his
own life, for a woman he barely knows.
When John agreed to
not only be the go-between for June and her mother but to organize an entire
elaborate mailing system, Frank had been impressed by his friend's
resourcefulness. He now knows that John must have regarded the subterfuge as
part and parcel of being an 'honorary' Fed, and he agrees wholeheartedly with
the notion that John would have made a great agent.
Into the profound
silence kept by three adults who feel so fortunate to be together, a tiny
squeak and a soft little wail signals the awakening of Megan, who's ready to
eat. Cora's eyes fill with loving wonder as she looks down at her now-alert
grandchild, and she reluctantly hands her over to June, who's already opened
her shirt and is ready to nurse the baby.
While Megan nurses,
Frank runs a gentle hand over Kevin's sleep-mussed hair and voices several
imminent concerns. "We should go home, as soon as Megan's finished. I'm
sure the nurses are wondering why we lingered as long as we did! And we need to
talk seriously about where we go from here." His gaze rests on June as she
carefully burps Megan, who's already fallen asleep against her shoulder. June
nods and her hand rubs her daughter's delicate little back as she considers
their options.
It's clear to see
that Cora needs to keep up the pretense of being the scarred survivor of a
house fire, at least for a while longer. It's how the folks in town and on the
Ridge already know of her, and though most of them haven't actually met her yet
it's best not to make radical changes. Perhaps in
time, slowly, she can alter the amount of latex 'scarring' she wears, with the
idea that her face is healing - until she stops disguising herself
completely. When she voices this aloud, Cora nods, agreeing completely.
"The last
thing we want to do is bring any attention to the situation. If I have learned
nothing more from this experience I have learned that. And I should stay where
I am, up in Mrs. Pennington's house. Things have to go on as normally as
possible. Thankfully very few people have seen much of my face, and most
everyone knows me to be recuperating from burns. I don't see why we can't keep
up the charade, for as long as we need to." She holds her eager arms out
for the sleeping baby and June hands Megan over, gladly. Cora rocks the child
in her arms, thinking that for these kinds of magical moments, she'll endure
anything, anything at all...
Fifteen minutes
later, vases of flowers distributed amongst the nursing staff that took such
good care of them, and other assorted baby paraphernalia gathered up, Frank and
June herd their children to the car, parked in the summer sun. A few parking
spots down from them, a dear neighbor of theirs adjusts her wide-brimmed
sun-hat and slips oversized sunglasses on her nose, climbs into her little
Honda and with a carefree and casual wave, pulls out onto Licking Street,
headed for Bluff Ridge.
Everyone's going
home.
******************
Later in the day
there's a gathering at Frank's and June's house; a quick supper and an evening
spent 'ooh-ing' and 'ahh-ing'
over the new addition. Kevin and Briggs play in the front yard, making all
sorts of racket, while in the old farmhouse, laughter and memories are shared
and plans firmed up. In the days to come, perhaps a few close Simmons friends
will be taken into a sort of confidence - and perhaps not. It all depends on
how much Frank and June feel they can trust the folks who have cared for them,
befriended them, since the first night they set foot in Simmons.
Cora rocks Megan to
sleep in the old rocking chair, and she mourns the fact that until further
notice her sons and their families will have to go on believing she's dead.
It's a hard thing to accept. And the worry, that whomever
still searches for her daughter and family might be out there, still wondering
and still plotting, is compounded by the real fear that they could go to her
boys next, and threaten them. It could happen. She prays it won't; prays that
relentless stalking ended with the car that went over the Little Orleans
Bridge, a few months ago.
But in the
meantime, she has a new identity and papers to back it up, thanks to John
Byers. She has a life that she must remember to reinforce at every opportunity.
After June places
Megan in her bassinet and calls Kevin in for bed, Cora opens up the file folder
she brought with her and spreads the contents out on her lap. These are the
papers John sent to her right after Maggie Scully 'died' - here is her new
identity, her new life. A husband, family, everything... new
driver's license and new Social Security number. New
person. Cora Bledsoe, husband deceased. She'd refused to look through it
when she first received the packet, thinking she just couldn't bear to see what
she'd had to become. But now - seeing how easily Frank and June have slipped
into their identities - she knows it's time to be brave, and take a look.
There's a death
certificate. Her 'husband's', she notes. An obituary from a
Gary, Indiana newspaper. Bless John's heart, he thought of everything...
then she looks closely at the obit - and she gasps aloud - and she holds it out
for June and Frank to read, her hand trembling as chilled fingers grip the
newsprint.
"Look. Look
what he did, oh God, Dana..." In her emotional state Cora forgets to use
the right name. But it doesn't matter; the house is locked and it's later in
the evening and they are safe, they're all safe...
June takes the paper
from Cora's hand, glances down - and her intake of breath is audible in the
quiet room. Her wide blue eyes dart to Frank's in shock, then back to the
paper, and she reads aloud in a small and shaky voice.
"Henry W.
Bledsoe. Died April 3. Born in Gary,
Indiana on May 12, 1939. Survivors include his wife, Cora and daughter,
June. Oh God, Mom... 'daughter June'. He gave June to
Cora. He made a link for us. Oh, bless his wonderful, brave heart..."
Tears clog her throat and she can't say another word. June scoots across the
short width of the sofa and is wrapped tightly in her mother's embrace. The
newsprint flutters toward the floor and Frank catches it before it hits,
smoothing out the crumples and staring it in disbelief and dawning
thankfulness.
As mother and
daughter cry all over each other and their soft murmurs of love rise and fall
in the room, Frank wipes away a tear or two of his own. He knows exactly what
this means to June and to Cora. He'd hated the thought of any of them having to
pretend they never met until just a few short weeks ago... now, thanks to John
Byers, they can go about in public. They can be mother and daughter for
everyone to see. It's a final gift, perhaps the most wonderful of all. A gift to June, and also to their children. Kevin and Megan
have heredity, now. They have their grandmother. In its own way it's quite a
miracle. A day of miracles, in fact.
He knows they'll
always have to be careful. He accepts the heavy responsibility and welcomes the
watch he'll keep. It won't be easy; he knows that. But right now they are happy
and they have each other. They have more than so many people, and like every
other day since he and June came to Simmons, it's a celebration because they
are still alive.
Alive... and he'll
do whatever needs to be done, to keep them safe.
***************
The night is deep
and dark by the time Cora heads for home, leaving over their protests that she
should stay the night and drive Bluff Ridge in the morning. She refuses, saying
she needs time alone to process the day's events and they need time together,
too. She'll be back tomorrow, and every day she can. She'll start being Mom,
and Grandmother, tomorrow.
When the taillights
of the little Honda are finally out of sight, headed up Bluff Ridge, Frank
slips an arm around his wife and leads her up the stairs. The children are in
bed and in just a few hours Megan will probably awaken and demand a feeding.
But for now the house is quiet and there's a soft and warm night breeze coming
in through their bedroom windows. Down the hall Kevin and Briggs are tangled up
in the bed-sheets, fast asleep.
Life is more than
good. Life is damned amazing.
June snuggles
against her husband's side, half-dozing, exhausted but still taking a moment to
whisper her thanks to God, that He has blessed them so richly. A small voice in
her head cuts through some of her thanks and reminds her they're still not out
of the woods, and her brothers could be in some sort of future danger. But each
day must be taken and lived to the best they can live it. Small
steps. Careful steps. They've survived for
seven years by taking these small and careful steps.
In the warm
darkness Frank holds her close and kisses her gently, worshipfully. It'll be a
few weeks before her body can join itself to his, and they both ache with the
desire to connect, to love. They're also emotionally drained and they need
sleep, badly. But he can fall asleep with his mouth buried between her soft
breasts and she can doze off to dreamland holding him beneath his boxer shorts.
Cupping his flesh, cradling the hardness that remains
regardless of his level of weariness. It's a comfort for them both.
Stars twinkle in
the clear summer night over Simmons, and the
End
My sincere thanks
for visiting Simmons, deep in the Bluff Mountains - and spending some time with
Frank, June, Kevin, Megan and Briggs!