Title: The Ghost of Millcreek Inn -
Book One: The Haunting
By: Tess and Char Chaffin
E-mail: tnv099@aol.com and char@chaffin.com
Distribution: Please let us know first
Spoilers: None
Rating: NC-17
Content: S, R
Keywords: MSR
Disclaimer: Some of the characters herein are the property
of Fox and 1013 Productions
Summary: She felt the familiar, haunting ache of her loss
and the renewed stirring of a love stolen from her too soon
http://tessfiles.n3.net/
char.chaffin.com
Prologue
September 1776
Lancaster
Pennsylvania
At sixteen years of age, Molly Sullivan was a beauty. Strawberry
blonde curls tumbled down her back. She was tall and slender with a
generous bosom and she viewed the world through crystal blue eyes.
Molly Sullivan was a beauty, but she was poor. The youngest of ten
children, she had grown up watching her mother work herself into an
early grave as she struggled to keep her family fed and clothed;
watched her mother wait hand and foot on her father and older brothers
as the family farm fell into ruin around them.
At sixteen years of age, Molly Sullivan watched her older sisters meet
the same fate as their mother - each of them married and giving birth
to children of their own before they were much more than children
themselves. Each of them scratching out a living on a meager plot of
land with their husbands. Each of them growing old before their time.
At sixteen years of age, Molly Sullivan was convinced that there was
something better awaiting her and she knew that it wouldn't be found in
the arms of a poor farm boy from western Pennsylvania. And so she
struck out on her own, seeking a glamorous life in Philadelphia.
She was not destined to bear a litter of children and doom them to a
life of misery and despair and hunger. No. She would go to
Philadelphia and there she would meet the man of her dreams. She would
dazzle him with her beauty and grace and he would love her and take
care of her. She would live in a world where there were no
backbreaking chores - no children whimpering with hunger. She would
live in a grand house with a wonderful man who would treat her like a
queen. Her clothes would be sumptuous; her skin would be white and
unblemished by the harsh weather. Her hands would be dewy and soft.
Her children would be well educated and well mannered and she would
love them - love him - until the day she died.
At sixteen years of age, Molly Sullivan packed her few belongings in a
bag, tucked her meager savings into her bosom and struck out for
Philadelphia and her destiny.
She made it as far as Lancaster before her money ran out. Uneducated,
she could not find work in any of the respectable businesses in town
and no woman wanted a girl of such rare beauty and voluptuous curves to
work in her home where she might tempt a husband into straying.
She finally found work and a room of her own at the Millcreek Tavern.
For more than a year she had served ale to the tavern's customers and
slapped away their groping hands while watching the other barmaids lead
eager customers up the stairs to their rooms above the tavern. For
more than a year, she had hoarded her paltry earnings, saving for a
time when she could once again strike out for the city and her dreams,
but it was impossible to save money when there was little money to be
had.
At seventeen years of age, Molly Sullivan took the hand of an eager
customer and led him up the stairs to her small cell of a room. He was
younger than many of the men - yet much older than she - still, he was
cleaner than most of the patrons of the tavern...
At seventeen years of age, Molly Sullivan lay on her back on her tiny
bed, in her tiny room and closed her eyes, pretending as he grunted and
moaned and moved above her that he was handsome and young and her
husband. When he was finished, he thanked her and she rolled onto her
side and cried until her eyes were swollen.
And when she opened her eyes, her gaze landed on a small stack of coins
on the rough-hewn table next to the bed. Gold and silver, they glinted
in the light of the fat candle dripping wax onto the tin plate beneath
it, mesmerizing her.
At seventeen years of age, Molly Sullivan wiped her eyes and swept the
coins into a soiled handkerchief and hid it under a loose floorboard
near her bed. She poured cool water in a basin and splashed it over
her face, pinched her cheeks to bring color to them, smoothed her hair
and pulled her dress back on. She pasted a smile onto her face and
returned to the tavern floor below.
At seventeen years of age, Molly Sullivan was a beauty and she would
use that beauty to find her way to Philadelphia and a better life.
**********
September 1777
At twenty-two years of age, William Foxworth was sore of heart. A
lieutenant in the Continental Army, his regiment had been moved closer
to Reading, Pennsylvania. General Washington had made the painful -
and necessary - decision to protect the ammunition supply base in
Reading at the expense of protecting Philadelphia and word up and down
the lines was that the British army was only days away from capturing
the colonial capital; from invading William's beloved city.
He tried to keep his mind on the journey ahead as he and his men rode
from Reading to Lancaster. They had come to beg the town for her sons
to join the fight; for money and food; for blankets and boots for the
colonial army before the harsh Pennsylvania winter swept in. But his
thoughts kept turning to home. They had been told that the bell atop
the Pennsylvania State House had been secreted out of the city for
safekeeping in anticipation of the arrival of British troops. Indeed,
patriot citizens and Washington's soldiers had stripped the city of
anything that the British could use against them. Most of the bells in
the city were removed so that they could not be melted down and made
into cannonballs or musket balls. Businesses were shuttered and
livestock driven from the city limits. He knew that his parents and
siblings had most likely fled the city for the relative safety of their
summer home in the countryside.
William's heart was heavy with the thought that the stately brick town
home in the city in which he had been raised might only be days away
from becoming headquarters for some red-coated officer. He and his men
drew their horses to a halt outside of the Millcreek Tavern and hitched
the reins to the iron posts driven into the cobblestone street.
*********
Molly Sullivan looked up when the heavy, oaken door of the tavern swung
open to admit three young men dressed in the uniforms of the colonial
army. The air was heavy with smoke and the smell of fried fish; the
room overly warm from the many bodies crowded into the small space. To
her left, Rodger Stanton laid a heavy hand on her shoulder in an effort
to bring her attention back to him. She shrugged her shoulder and
ignored the weight of his gold signet ring as it bit into her tender
flesh. The shocked businessman watched through narrow eyes as she
moved across the room to greet the newcomers.
William and his men settled at a table and as Molly sauntered toward
them, she threw a warning glance over her shoulder to the other
barmaids to stand back. She planted one hand on her hip and tossed her
curls over her shoulder.
"Welcome," she said in her husky voice as her eyes swept over the three
men crowded around the table. She smiled at the well-built blonde man
nearest her.
"What'll you have?" she asked flirtatiously. Without a doubt, he was
the best-looking man to set foot in this tavern in more than a year,
even if he had the big hands of a farmer. Still... he was gorgeous to
look at...
She laughed, as the three remained silent. She was used to leaving men
tongue-tied. Holding up one finger to indicate that she'd be back, she
strolled slowly toward the bar, confident that three pairs of eyes were
following her every move.
She returned a few moments later carrying a tray loaded with pitchers
of ale and heavy mugs. She leaned forward as she set one pitcher onto
the table, knowing full well that the low neckline of her blouse would
gape away and allow a tantalizing peek beneath. The balance of the
tray shifted under the weight of the remaining pitcher of ale and she
almost lost her grip. The pitcher and the mugs slid precariously to
the edge of the tray and Molly struggled to regain a solid grip. A
strong hand shot out and righted the tray, easing it onto the table.
Molly threw a thankful glance toward her rescuer and the smile died on
her lips as she stared at him.
Tall and lean with dark hair, he looked to be only a few years older
than she. He was not as good looking as the blonde at the other end of
the table but his face was compelling. Molly was struck dumb and her
heart began to pound in her chest.
William locked his hand around the girl's wrist and pulled her onto the
bench beside him. He ignored the rueful glances thrown his way by his
men and was only peripherally aware of the other barmaids flocking to
the table.
"What's your name?" he asked. Molly heard the question, but she was
lost in his eyes. Green with just a bit of gray around the rims, they
showed a sharp intelligence and, she thought, as she peered more
closely, they were shadowed with a hint of sorrow.
"Molly," she whispered. "I'm Molly Sullivan."
He smiled, showing a row of straight, white teeth and for the first
time Molly felt like swooning under the attentions of a man.
"Well, Molly Sullivan. I am William Foxworth and I am very pleased to
make your acquaintance." His voice was low - smooth and cultured - and
pleasure curled low in Molly's stomach at the sound of it. Reality
intruded as the tavern owner bellowed her name. She jumped to her feet
and smoothed her skirt over her hips.
"I... I'm..." She looked over her shoulder and saw the tavern owner
sharply gesturing for her to get back to work. "I've got to... I need
to..." His fingers were still wrapped around her wrist and she tugged,
half-heartedly trying to free herself from his grip.
"You'll come back?" he asked, holding her gaze with his own. She
nodded mutely and jumped when he trailed his fingers over the back of
her hand before releasing her. She clasped her tray over her chest and
hurried to the bar and back to work.
For the rest of that night, Molly went about the business of serving
food and drinks in a daze. She ignored the sharp looks from her boss
and the proprietary hand that Rodger Stanton tried to lay on her every
time she drew near. At every opportunity, she would hurry back to
William's table to sit beside him where they would converse in low
voices until she was pulled away again. And at the end of the evening,
when most of the customers had staggered home; when the tavern owner
was wiping down the tables and the barmaids were giggling in the laps
of the other soldiers, Rodger Stanton watched through a haze of fury as
Molly Sullivan led the young lieutenant up the stairs and his fingers
curled into fists at the sound of a bedroom door swinging firmly
closed.
*********
Molly and William did not make love that night. They lay on her narrow
bed. They talked and they talked and all the while they were falling in
love.
She told him of her childhood on the farm and of her dreams of escape.
Shamefaced, she admitted to the sordid details of the last year of her
life and she wept when he smoothed his hand over her hair and didn't
judge.
She listened as he talked about what it was like to fight in battle; to
see row after row of British soldiers as they swarmed and invaded the
land. He spoke of his fears for his family and his city and she held
him as he wept over the loss of friends, of men too young to die.
When a rooster crowed and dawn broke over the horizon, he slipped from
her bed, pressed his lips to her forehead and promised to be back that
evening. As she watched him shrug into his heavy woolen coat and close
the door behind him, she vowed that he would be the last man she would
take to her bed.
*************
William kept his promise - and so did Molly. He rejoined his men and
they took note of the spring in his step and the lightening of the
shadows in his eyes. They silently nudged one another and hid grins
behind their hands and the three young men mounted their horses and
rode toward town, eager to conduct their business and return to the
tavern that night. They spoke to the town council and raised funds.
They met with the farmers gathered near the feed shop and gained the
promise of food. The good ladies of the town cajoled their shopkeeper
husbands into donating boots and warm clothing; they gathered blankets
and watched with fearful hearts and teary eyes as their little boys
became men in an instant when they signed on to volunteer for General
Washington's Army.
Triumphant from their successes, the three returned each night to the
tavern to celebrate. And waiting for William every night was Molly
Sullivan with the glorious strawberry blonde hair and blue eyes that
ignored all others.
On the third night, William stripped Molly's clothes from her trembling
limbs and followed her down onto the bed. She kept her eyes open when
he joined his body with hers. She'd had other men and he knew it. But
for both of them, it was the first time they had ever made love. Their
young bodies moved slowly, lazily in the flickering glow of the
candlelight and they whispered solemn pledges of love and loyalty; of
trust and faith as with muted cries they reached for and found
fulfillment.
Throughout that magical night, Molly refused to sleep. She wanted the
night to last forever - wanted to remember this moment, always. Rising
carefully from their rumpled bed, she fetched a sheet of parchment
paper and a small piece of charcoal from the hearth. Molly had never
learned to read, but she'd known how to draw from a young age. She
didn't think anything much of this talent, assuming that everyone could
do it... Curling up in the faded armchair across from the bed, wrapped
in a tattered shawl - Molly watched her love sleeping. And she drew
him, the way he looked to her, so young and handsome as he lay in her
bed. William slept and Molly sketched him, pouring her passion for him
into a drawing that when finished reflected a timeless love that
brought tears to her eyes. Setting aside the completed drawing, Molly
removed her shawl and slipped back into bed, curving her body against
his warm skin and sighing happily when he murmured her name in his
sleep and clutched her tightly.
On the sixth day, they were awakened by the thundering sound of hooves
racing toward the tavern. New orders had arrived and William and his
men were to report back to their regiment in Reading along with their
new recruits.
Molly hurried down to the kitchen to wrap meats and cheese in some
cloths and she filled a wineskin with good, strong ale. She pressed
her offerings into William's hands and he secured them to his
saddlebags. He turned back to her and smiled tenderly at the lovely
sight of her standing before him, adoration in her eyes - the same
expression he knew must be in his. He didn't want to leave her. It
was breaking his heart... He cupped her face in his hands and lowered
his mouth to hers and kissed her on her sweet lips. Her fingers curled
over his wrists and she stretched up onto her toes to fuse their mouths
more tightly together. They kissed passionately, each understanding
the gravity of their situation and yet with all of their young and
strong optimism knowing they would be together again, when this cruel
war was over.
Breaking the kiss, William again bent to Molly, pressing a kiss to
first one side of her soft neck, and then the other, the silky skin
exposed by the ribbon she'd hastily tied through her hair. As he
straightened and regarded her with so much love in his face, she pulled
that ribbon free and let her hair tumble down around her shoulders,
keeping his farewell kisses safe from the morning air. She tucked the
ribbon between the brass buttons of his uniform jacket. It was a
tribute, a token to remember her by, as he went into battle. Her eyes
were glassy with tears but her expression held nothing but fierce
pride.
William held out his arms and Molly threw herself into them. "I will
be back soon," he promised as they shared one final embrace, "I'll walk
right up to you and kiss you underneath your flaming hair and I'll
never leave you again." He inhaled deeply, filling his lungs with her
own unique scent - the musk of their lovemaking blended with a delicate
hint of the lilac water he had brought back from town one night as a
gift for her. She nodded against his shoulder and somehow managed to
keep her tears at bay.
"I'll be waiting," she vowed in a hoarse voice. "Godspeed,
William." She let her hands fall away from him and stepped back as he
swung up into his saddle. He smiled down at her and she offered a
brave smile in return. William jerked the reins in his hands and set
off down the road with his men in close file behind him. He was
perhaps fifty yards away when he suddenly reined the horse in and
turned around.
"I love you!" he shouted and even from the distance, he could see the
broad grin that wreathed her face.
"I love you too!" she cried. He nodded and returned her smile before
digging his heels into the horse's side, spurring him into a light
cantor away from his lover and toward duty. He would be back, he knew.
And when he came back he was going to marry Molly Sullivan and take her
to Philadelphia to meet his family.
***********
October 4, 1777
Germantown
Pennsylvania
Lieutenant William Foxworth waved his saber over his head and valiantly
tried to rally the men around him. His regiment had left Reading and
had met up with the main body of Washington's troops several days
earlier. They had marched overnight toward Germantown, a small village
several miles outside of the city limits of Philadelphia where General
Howe was garrisoned with 9000 British troops.
The Americans divided into four columns and attacked at dawn. Their
spirits were bolstered when the British initially scrambled back in
retreat. But the men in William's column had lost their bearings as
the thick fog and heavy smoke swirled around them, choking them and
leaving them hopelessly disoriented; and worse, allowing the British to
regroup and surge forward again. William's horse had been wounded
earlier in the morning and he was on foot as he urged his men on and
shouted orders. Tears streamed down his face from the acrid smoke and
his ears were ringing from the relentless sounds of bugle calls and
exploding cannon shots and the screams of wounded men.
"Come now, lads!" he shouted. He nodded at one of the young men who
had accompanied him from Lancaster and clapped a reassuring hand on his
shoulder.
"It's going to be alright," he promised the teary-eyed boy. "It's
easy." His smile was a slash of white in his grime-streaked face.
"When you see a red coat, you just aim and fire!" He scrambled about,
offering similar reassurances to his other men, herding them into some
semblance of a formation just in time to see a wall of red-coated
soldiers step through the dense fog.
"FIRE!!" William shouted. The world around him exploded in a cacophony
of sound and he took a moment's pleasure at the sight of the King's
Army faltering under the barrage of rebel fire. And then, suddenly
everything went quiet. He looked about and saw men screaming and
shouting, but he couldn't hear them. He saw the flashes of fire from
the muskets in the hands of his men, but couldn't hear the discharge of
the guns as the world seemed to slow down around him.
And then he was falling, spinning as the ground rushed up to meet him.
Pain exploded in his chest as a musket ball slammed into him. He heard
the boy from Lancaster cry out 'Lieutenant' before he too fell to the
ground. The British soldiers swarmed into the field and William could
hear the bugle calls sounding retreat as the Americans stumbled and
scrambled for safety.
Lying on a blood-soaked field, William Foxworth reached between the
buttons of his uniform and drew forth a ribbon. The scrap of satin was
the same color as the blue, blue eyes of his true love. A solitary
tear trickled down his cheek as he brought the ribbon to his lips. As
his life's blood poured onto the ground beneath him, he whispered her
name on his dying breath.
"Molly..."
************
October 13, 1777
Lancaster
Pennsylvania
Rodger Stanton was tired of waiting. Molly Sullivan had put him off
night after night. He knew she fancied herself to be in love with the
young officer.
Rodger had never had to force her into bed before. Molly had always
willingly taken his coin in exchange for the pleasures of her bed. She
had laughed at his jokes and made him feel important but she had never
looked at him the way she had looked at Lieutenant Foxworth. And now,
she was withholding herself from him; turning her back from him and
turning her nose up at the sight of his money.
"No, thank you." Her voice had been polite enough but stiff - all
vestiges of the saucy, flirtatious girl now gone replaced by a haughty
woman who didn't know her place. Rodger had tried to find his ease
with one of the other barmaids, but none of them could hold a candle to
Molly's beauty and charms. She had been his long before Foxworth had
arrived and by God she'd be his again.
Bolstered by a few drinks, he fancied himself irresistible. But when
he put his hands on her, she didn't even try to gently disengage
herself as she had on previous occasions. Instead, she slapped at his
hands and planted her fists against his chest, shoving him back against
the bar.
"I said no!" Molly's blue eyes blazed in indignant fury and she glared
at him for a moment before turning her back on him to pick up a tray of
drinks. Rodger straightened up and ordered another drink and his eyes
followed her about the room for the rest of the night - though he made
no move to touch her again.
Molly sighed with relief as the last customer stepped out into the
chilly autumn night. She wanted badly to leave the Millcreek Tavern,
but William had promised to come back for her and she wanted to be
there when he returned. Word had traveled across the state of General
Washington's retreat from Germantown. Deaths on the American side had
been thankfully light with only one hundred and fifty-two men dead.
Molly hurriedly made the sign of the cross and asked God to bless those
lost in battle, confident that William was not among them - for he had
promised to return to her.
In her little room, Molly found solace in the nightly ritual of
readying herself for bed - washing her face at the washstand and
brushing her lovely hair. Setting aside the hairbrush, she knelt at
the side of her bed and pried up the loose floorboard, where she'd been
keeping her saved coins. Since she'd met William and stopped allowing
men the ease of her body, the amount of savings had dwindled but Molly
didn't mind. At least the money she now earned was honestly-won...
Reaching into the hole she pulled out a rolled-up scroll tied with a
scrap of ribbon. She untied it and spread it on the floor, smiling
softly as the drawing of her William soothed her and comforted her.
For long minutes she stared at it, remembering that night, his
gentleness and his passion - his overwhelming love. And she knew this
memory would sustain her for as long as William was gone. Pressing a
finger to her lips, she then trailed that finger over the sleeping face
of her lover, before rolling it up again and tying it securely. She
placed it back in its hiding place and replaced the floorboard.
Standing up, Molly pulled off her dress, threw it over the end of the
bed and smoothed her hand over her cotton chemise. "Your papa will be
back for us soon," she promised the baby she was only just beginning to
suspect she was carrying. "And then we can leave this place forever."
A low growl alerted her only a second before a heavy hand slapped her
across the face, sending her tumbling to the wooden floor.
"Whore!" She looked up to find Rodger Stanton towering over her. "You
stupid slut!" he said. "He's never coming back for you - why would he
come back to a whore?"
Molly scrambled back against the wall and pushed herself up on
trembling legs.
"You're drunk," she said in a low voice. "Rodger - I want you to get
out of my room." She pointed toward the door and spoke with an
authority she didn't feel.
Rodger sneered. "I spent six months with you and you think that you
can turn your back on me when a younger, prettier face comes along?"
His eyes were black with fury and Molly looked wildly around for a
route of escape.
Rodger clamped his hands on her arms and crushed her into the wall.
"Are you really so stupid that you believe that a rich boy like that
would come back for an uneducated whore like you? Pregnant with God
only knows whose baby!" His laugh was shrill and mocking.
"This baby is William's" Molly spat. "Until I met William, I made sure
that I would never become pregnant with another man's child. I never
wanted your child!" she said defiantly. A red haze settled over
Rodger's vision and he threw her onto the bed. Molly's head rapped
against the iron headboard and her vision blurred as he crashed down
onto the bed atop her. She threw out one hand and scrambled for the
knife she kept hidden between the bed and the wall as he tore the
clothes from her body. His mouth closed over her breast and she sobbed
as he bit down on her tender flesh. Her fingers scraped across the
rough planks of the floor before they brushed against the smooth handle
of the knife. She closed triumphant fingers around the handle and
lifted it into the air.
Rodger saw the glinting knife rushing toward him from the corner of his
eye and he jerked to the side, causing the blade to strike a glancing
blow off his shoulder. They grappled for control of the knife and he
slammed her wrist into the wall. The knife fell from her numb fingers
and he snatched it up into his hand.
"I hate you," she hissed and fury coursed through him leaving him in a
towering rage. Molly's eyes widened and a low, shocked cry slipped
from her lips as the knife pierced her flesh in a mortal blow.
Rodger stumbled back and watched with horror as a red stain bloomed
over the white cotton of Molly's chemise. The knife clattered to the
floor as he ran for the door. Molly was distantly aware of the sound
of his boots racing down the steps and the clattering of hoof beats
into the dark night.
She turned painfully onto her side and drew her knees toward her chest.
Her fingers played over her stomach where she imagined her baby was
sleeping. The pain was fading and sleep was beckoning her and she went
willingly, imagining William's protective arms sliding around her and
their child.
"We'll be waiting for you..."
********
Chapter One
October 2001
Lancaster
Pennsylvania
Scully stroked her fingers over the tufts of reddish-brown hair atop
her son's head. Will had been fretful for much of the trip. He had
cried, straining against the straps securing him into his car seat, his
chubby hands extended toward his mother, begging her to hold him.
"Maybe we should have left him with my mom." Scully looked at Mulder
in the rearview mirror. Her voice was tight with frustration. They
had pulled into several rest stops on the trip from D.C. to
Pennsylvania to feed the baby or walk him around and a trip that should
have taken a little more than two and a half hours had turned into an
epic journey of almost twice that amount of time. Scully had been
forced to spend the last ninety minutes of the trip in the backseat,
futilely waving a rattle and humming. But Will didn't want to be
entertained. He wanted to be held. At least the ride was comfortable.
Shortly after Will's birth, Mulder had convinced her that they needed a
roomier car. A couple of days later, they were the proud new owners of
a dark green Ford Explorer. Stretching her legs, she was grateful now
for the extra room.
"We couldn't leave him, Scully." Mulder glanced away from the road to
meet her eyes in the rearview mirror. "You're still breastfeeding him
and besides... neither one of us really wants to be away from him yet."
Scully smiled ruefully. He was right. Still, this was their first
real vacation and she wanted it to be special. She knew that traveling
with a five-month-old would have its own challenges, but she prayed
that Will's fractiousness could be attributed to being confined to the
car seat for so long. Perhaps, unlike his parents, Will simply wasn't
a good traveler.
The baby snuffled and rubbed his tear-splotched face against his
mother's hand. His tiny mouth opened and closed over her pinky and as
he sucked on her little finger, Scully eyes widened. Was that... no.
A tooth? At five months? She rubbed an experimental finger over his
gums and stopped again when she encountered a tiny bump beneath the
skin. Poor baby, she thought. No wonder he's in such a bad mood.
Scully sighed and rested her cheek atop the padded side of Will's car
seat. The baby was, thankfully, quiet for the moment as he contentedly
suckled her finger and she took the opportunity to study the scenery as
it sped past the vehicle's windows.
This vacation was a gift from Scully for Mulder's fortieth birthday.
She had been surfing the Internet and had stumbled across a vacation-
planning guide for Lancaster, Pennsylvania. Covered bridges, quaint
shops and... ghosts. She had booked a suite at the Millcreek Inn, a
bed and breakfast well known in the area as being haunted. In fact, it
seemed that Lancaster County was a hotbed of paranormal activity. She
had downloaded information not only on the haunted inn, but also on the
nightly ghost tours held in the county. With Halloween only a few
short weeks away, she was assured that everything would be
appropriately... spooky.
Scully smiled at the sight of a group of Amish children walking along
the side of the road on their way home from school. The small red and
white plastic Igloo coolers in their hands contrasted with the dark
skirts and pants peeking out from beneath equally dark coats. They
drove past rolling farmlands dotted with wooden barns that were
decorated with brightly colored hex signs. They rolled past shops -
the tacky hawking "genuine" Amish souvenirs; the charming offering
hand-stitched quilts and sturdy hand-woven baskets.
Mulder consulted the map lying on the passenger seat and flipped on the
turn signal before executing a left hand turn off the highway. Scully
was pleased to see the corner of his lips curl up in a small smile.
Despite Will's crankiness, Mulder seemed to relax with every mile they
put between them and D.C. Sunlight spilled through the bright orange,
yellow and red leaves of the ancient trees that towered overhead,
dappling the winding country road with light. Their SUV climbed a
small hill and as it cleared the rise, Scully saw the sign for the inn.
"There it is," she pointed and Mulder steered the Explorer onto the
gravel driveway leading to the inn's front door. Parking the car, he
climbed out and paused for a moment to indulge in a long, satisfying
stretch. Scully unsnapped the safety straps of Will's car seat and
eased the harness over the now sleeping baby's head. She slipped her
hands under his arms and hauled him gently out of the seat. Crawling
back out of the SUV, she protectively covered Will's head with one hand
as she eased down onto the ground, carefully shielding him from the
frame of the car door.
Mulder reached out and lifted the baby onto his shoulder and moved to
the back of the vehicle. He popped open the back door and yanked out
the heaviest of the suitcases, leaving the two smaller bags for Scully
to carry. The fallen leaves made a satisfying crunch beneath their
feet as they crossed the yard and mounted the stairs.
"You must be the Mulders." The screen door squeaked as the innkeeper
pushed it open to greet her guests. Mulder and Scully shared a private
smile at the innkeeper's presumption of their wedded state. "I'm Doris
Knaubler. Welcome to the Millcreek Inn." She took one of the bags
from Scully's hands and stroked a gentle finger over Will's chubby
cheek. A fire crackled cheerfully in the stone fireplace on one side
of the room. A sofa and two armchairs sat in front of the fireplace.
The walls were lined with shelves crammed with books and magazines. A
table and four ladder-backed chairs invited guests to sit down to a
game of checkers or cards.
The small family followed Doris to the check-in counter discreetly
tucked beneath the wooden stairs leading to the second and third floors
of the inn.
"Your suite is ready," the innkeeper said. Her reading glasses were
perched atop her head and she slid them onto her nose and peered at the
computer and tapped on the keyboard. Scully signed the registration
forms and accepted a set of keys.
"This key is to your room," Doris explained as she pointed to the
larger of the two keys on the ring. "And this key is to the front door
of the inn. I don't imagine with a little one that you'll be out too
late, but I lock the front door after nine o'clock in the evenings and
you'll need the key to get in after that." Mulder hitched Will more
securely onto his shoulder and adjusted his grip on the heavy suitcase
as he followed Scully and Doris up the stairs to the second floor.
Doris led them down a hallway and paused in front of one of the doors.
"This is your room," she said as she fit a key from her own ring into
the lock. "There's one other room on this floor, but no one is staying
there. I have two other couples staying in the rooms on the third
floor but if this little guy wakes up crying in the middle of the
night, don't worry about it. This inn is almost two hundred and fifty
years old and the walls are heavy and solid. You won't disturb
anyone."
Doris pushed open the door and stepped aside to allow her guests to
enter the room. "If you need anything, just stop by the front desk to
let me know." She stepped back into the hallway. "Breakfast is served
in the dining room from seven o'clock until nine thirty in the
mornings."
Scully smiled her thanks and began to wander about the suite. A queen-
sized Shaker-style bed and matching armoire dominated the master
bedroom. Scully ran a pleased hand over the quilt hand-stitched in a
double wedding ring design that was draped over the bed. White eyelet
lace curtains hanging on the windows matched the trim on the
pillowcases and the dust ruffle on the bed. Wood was stacked in the
hearth and a colorful afghan was draped over the back of the small
loveseat that faced the fireplace. The bathroom was small and old-
fashioned, complete with a claw-footed bathtub. Thick, fluffy towels
were artfully stuffed into a wicker basket on the wide windowsill.
Mulder called to Scully in a low voice and she followed him to a door
that led to the connecting room. This bedroom held a twin bed and small
dresser and in one corner stood a beautiful antique crib. Mulder
stripped Will's jacket from his unresisting body and gently laid the
baby into the crib. Scully held her breath when Will rubbed the backs
of his hands over his nose and eyes and sighed with relief when he
quieted and once again fell into a heavy sleep. She wandered back into
the master bedroom to find Mulder sitting on the edge of the bed,
flipping through a pile of brochures that had been waiting on the
bedside table.
"You know," he said thoughtfully. "This place sure can give a person
ideas." Scully wandered across the room and stopped in front of him.
"How so?" she asked curiously and stifled a yawn.
"Well..." He tossed the brochures aside and his hands settled on her
hips. "It's the names of the towns," he said. "For instance, there's
Blue Ball." His voice took on a plaintive whine as he named one of the
local towns and Scully huffed out a laugh. His grip tightened on her
hips; he tugged her onto the mattress and loomed over her.
"Bird-in-Hand." He pushed his hips toward her until she obligingly
curled her fingers over the button-fly of his jeans.
"Intercourse..." His lips feathered over her cheek in a whisper soft
caress. Scully fought down the weariness assailing her limbs. The
drive had left her feeling grubby and Will's demands had exhausted her.
But this trip was supposed to be about finding time for one another
away from the daily routine of their lives. She wrapped her legs
around Mulder's waist and pulled him down on top of her.
"Don't forget Paradise," she breathed against his lips.
Their lovemaking was sweet, vital yet comfortable and they quickly
found their release with a familiar ease before snuggling together
under the quilt for a nap before dinner.
*********
Twilight was settling over the county and the couple lying in the bed
shivered in the suddenly cold room and tugged the quilt higher over
their naked bodies. The scent of lilacs perfumed the air. The woman's
brow furrowed and she curled more tightly against the man, her dark red
hair spilling across his shoulder. The man tossed his head from side
to side. His hair was sleep-rumpled and one lock fell over his
forehead. Tall and lean, his long limbs shifted restlessly beneath the
quilt and he moaned softly in his sleep.
Molly was drawn to him.
Unable to resist, she bent down and brushed her lips over his in a
gossamer kiss. His features relaxed and a tiny smile flirted with the
corners of his full mouth. Her eyes lingered on his handsome face and
she found a small measure of contentment stirring in her heart for the
first time in many, many years.
A sound from the adjoining room drew her attention away from the man
and Molly moved to investigate. The baby stirred beneath his blanket
and he rubbed tiny fists over his face. She studied the wisps of
reddish-brown hair on his head and fingered her own strawberry blonde
curls thoughtfully.
The baby's face screwed up into a pout and his whimpers grew louder.
He drew his knees up to his chest and angrily waved his fists in the
air. He opened his eyes and for just a moment she was convinced that
he was looking directly at her.
"Here I am." Molly had been so consumed by this tiny and fascinating
creature that she hadn't heard the movement behind her. She wasn't
able to move out of the way quickly enough and the red-haired woman
from the bed walked directly through her, warming Molly for just a
second. The woman shuddered and stopped in her tracks. Her head
turned from side to side as her eyes searched the room for...
something. She let out a small laugh and reached into the crib to lift
the baby into her arms.
"Brrr," the woman shivered. "It's freezing in here." She sat down on
the edge of the twin bed in the room and reached out with her free hand
for the soft cotton throw artfully tossed across the foot of the bed.
She wrapped the small blanket over her shoulders and tucked the edges
around the baby. The woman shifted the child in the cradle of her arm
and guided his mouth to her breast. He latched on eagerly and the
suckling sounds of his hungry grunts filled the air.
"Slow down, Will," the woman chided. "You're going to make yourself
sick."
Will. William.
Molly's hand curved over her stomach and she felt the familiar,
haunting ache of her loss and the renewed stirring of a love stolen
from her too soon.
**************
Chapter Two
October 2001
Lancaster
Pennsylvania
The watery sunrise outside their window shone just enough light within
the shuttered bedroom to awaken Mulder, who stretched beneath the thick
quilt. He opened one eye, glancing at the dim morning and realizing as
his stomach began to rumble, that they'd slept right through dinner and
the rest of the night although he vaguely remembered Scully climbing
out of bed at some point to feed Will. He yawned and stretched again,
then snagged his bed-partner around the waist and pulled her sleeping
form against him.
In the other room he could hear Will gurgling and cooing. Mulder
decided to leave well enough alone for the moment; he'd go for the baby
as soon as the gurgles turned into snuffles of hunger. In the meantime
he was in bed with Scully and it was warm and early in the morning.
Life was good.
An hour later father and son were wide-awake, Will having made his
desires loudly known by screeching his hunger and diaper changing
requirements into his personal space. Mulder had collected him in a
hurry, whipping off the wet diaper and taping him into a fresh one,
while Will blinked up at him with wet blue eyes and gnawed like crazy
on his little fist. Mulder carried him into the bedroom and placed him
next to Scully, who had somehow managed to sleep through her son's
ungodly din.
Will, smelling Mommy and consequently, his breakfast, rooted against
her until he found a bare nipple all by himself - and when he latched
onto it Scully awoke with a startled snort. Mulder bit back a laugh at
her confused, sleepy face and the laugh spilled out of him when she
glanced down in shock to see her son chowing down without her apparent
knowledge.
She looked up into Mulder's amused smirk. "Mulder, how on earth did he
find the nipple? He's too young to be squirming around that much!"
Mulder shrugged and leaned over to press a kiss on Scully's forehead.
"He can smell mommy milk a mile away, I suppose. Maybe you were
leaking a little. Will knows where to find the food, just like his old
man."
Mulder puffed up his chest in an exaggerated show of male superiority,
and Scully tossed him a disgusted look as she cradled Will's head while
he finished his breakfast. "You're such an idiot, Mulder. How about
feeding me? Do you think the dining room is open yet?"
Mulder kissed her again, before hopping out of bed and strolling naked
across the room, secure in the knowledge that Scully was ogling his
bare ass. He didn't have to look over his shoulder; he just knew. He
opened a dresser drawer and pulled out a pair of jeans, sliding them up
over his legs and hips without bothering to put on his boxers first.
Leaving them unbuttoned, Mulder snagged a shirt and half-buttoned
himself into it, then grabbed the inn's brochure off the dresser and
brought it back to the bed. Scully held a drowsy Will against her
shoulder and worked a burp out of him while they both looked at the
breakfast menu listed inside the brochure.
Mulder could feel his mouth watering at the tasty-sounding meals.
"God, Scully - ham steaks and Farmer's eggs with gravy and buttermilk
biscuits. Apple pancakes with maple syrup. I want it all; I'm
starving to death!" He showed her his best 'pathetic boy' face, trying
to garner instant sympathy.
Scully laughed and laid the sleeping baby on their pillows, mounding
two more around him for protection. She wormed her way in between the
salivating Mulder and the menu he still held in his hands. Placing a
smacking kiss on his lips, she murmured, "It all sounds great, Mulder -
I'm starved too. Why don't I put Will down for a quick nap, and we'll
catch a shower - by then the dining room should be open. We can go
down and eat and then plan our day. Sound good?"
Mulder gave her a grateful squeeze before bounding off the bed and
heading to the bathroom. "I got first shot at the shower head,
Scully..." He looked over his shoulder at her and snickered as she shot
up, still naked, and scooped Will into her arms, hustling him off to
his nap. Over the noise of the water in the tub he could hear her
admonishment.
"Don't you dare use up all that hot water!"
In the lovely dining room they stuffed themselves on pancakes and
Farmer's eggs, Mulder heaping food on Scully's plate until she
protested, "Mulder, God! You want me to explode?"
He laughed at her as he grabbed a fork and began shoveling in his
breakfast. "You'd better eat up, Scully - we've got a lot of
sightseeing to do!"
Scully broke off a tiny piece of unsalted egg from her plate and mashed
it with her fork, then scooped up a bit of the soft yolk and let Will
suck it from her finger. The baby waved his arms and smacked his lips,
gumming her poor finger almost raw. She could feel the hard ridge of
baby tooth, and commented, "I'll bet Will cuts a tooth before too long,
Mulder - I can feel it. At least we know why he's been so crabby.
We'll have to buy some Anbesol to put on it later."
Mulder drained his juice and nodded as he wiped his mouth with his
napkin. Pulling out the brochure from the breast pocket of his shirt
he consulted the back page, looking for a listing of the sights. His
eyes lit up when he saw the pictures of the 'Woolerton One-Room
Schoolhouse'. He hitched his chair closer to Scully and waved the
picture under her nose.
"Scully, check this out! An authentic one-room Amish schoolhouse
filled with animated Amish kids! We gotta go see it!"
Scully studied the color photo, which depicted the interior of what
indeed appeared to be a one-room schoolhouse filled with antique desks
and children sitting in those desks in various poses intended to look
as if they were all studying earnestly. The children looked like wax
figures with bad wigs, even from the flat one-dimensional photo. She
shuddered. "Mulder, that looks truly creepy. Can't we just go visit a
museum?" She sent him a plaintive look, which he blithely chose to
ignore.
"Come on, Scully... it'll be fun. Informative. Educational! We can
point fingers and laugh at the kids without hurting their feelings!
How can you not want to see it?" His teasing voice and huge smile went
a long way toward melting her - as usual - and she finally nodded and
shrugged helplessly. She struggled to unfasten Will's safety straps
and her grudging acquiescence made Mulder whoop with glee.
"Well... okay. But tomorrow you have to promise to take me to at least
one real farm and several museums."
Mulder held Will in one arm and managed to help her on with her jacket
with his free hand, then kissed her nose affectionately before herding
her toward the door and promising, "You betcha, Baby... tomorrow is all
yours."
The drive to Bird-in-Hand was really very nice, with sunshine flooding
the cloudless sky and the crisp fall air biting at their cheeks when
they stopped along the way to take photos of a picturesque covered
bridge. The surrounding landscape was flat with small hills dotting
the distance and lovely old farms nestled behind huge crop fields.
Woolerton Schoolhouse was about halfway between Bird-in-Hand and
Intercourse; Mulder still couldn't get over the suggestive-sounding
names of the towns. They turned off Route 340 and into a large parking
lot; the little schoolhouse sat off to the side with several horse-
drawn wagons pulled up beside the foliage-edged sidewalk. The lot was
only about a third full, but it was only mid-morning.
The schoolhouse was very authentic-looking, right down to the whitewash
on the outer walls. Mulder paid the admission to a smiling Amish woman
who cooed at Will as she took their money. Slinging Will's diaper bag
over his shoulder, Mulder followed Scully along a narrow hallway that
emptied out into a roped-off room, cunningly decorated to look like a
turn-of-the-century Amish schoolhouse. Little kid-size antique desks
were artfully arranged in untidy rows in the middle of the room, and a
scarred oaken desk at the front of the room proclaimed a teacher once
sat there guiding the class - who were all as still as, well... wax
figures. Mulder and Scully stared, wide-eyed, at the eerily realistic
and yet surreal scene.
Nothing was moving yet - obviously the show was on a schedule. The
children and their teacher remained frozen in whatever position they'd
been in when their motors had ground to a halt however many minutes
ago, when the last show ended. Little girls with pigtails were bent
over desks and one small blonde girl sat in a front desk and stared
mournfully, right at Mulder. The teacher squatted next to a little
boy, one hand caught in the act of flipping through a thin lesson-book.
Two boys sat on the planked floor, their hands raised as if getting
ready to throw yet another marble, a pile of which lay upon the floor
space between them. There were several older-looking children lounging
here and there around the small room, one gazing off into space and the
other two huddled close, perhaps whispering to one another. Mulder
could only conclude that in the olden Amish world teenagers were
universally adolescent. The thought made him grin.
They were still staring out into the display when suddenly a clock
chimed, somewhere in the building - and the tableau before them jumped
to instant and startling life. Scully jumped right along with the
animated bodies, jostling a sleeping Will who immediately woke up and
started fussing. She soothed him with a hand and he quieted... until
the teacher began to speak. Standing with a disturbingly jerky
movement, the figure first appeared to make a pass with its eyes over
the room, now alive with the sounds and sights of children busy at all
sorts of traditional kid-type things.
The boys on the floor flipped their hands around as if playing marbles.
The teenaged girls whispering to each other by the window reached out
animated hands and pointed at the teenaged boy who continued to stare
off into space, ignoring them. The sound of turning pages in lesson
books and little feet shuffling in place filled the air - and the Amish
teacher turned toward the roped-off area, its booming male voice
echoing in the room.
"Good morning, Students! God be with you and with us all as we begin a
blessed day of lessons and the Word of our Lord!"
The voice was creepy. The face was even creepier, Mulder decided, and
he leaned in to whisper to Scully, standing in front of him. "I feel
like we've just stepped into Stepford, don't you agree?"
Scully nodded slowly, turning a little to whisper a reply. "Oh, yeah.
I find this very... disturbing, Mulder..."
No sooner had the words left her mouth, than Will started to scream.
Scully turned him in her arms and looked into his little red face,
trying to calm him and shush him; the wailing baby was having none of
it. Mulder soothed a hand over his son's head, murmuring to him.
"Hey, Buddy... whatsa matter?" Will screamed louder, his eyes fastened
on the little blonde robot in the front row - and when Mulder followed
the baby's fretful gaze, he understood - for the little girl was
whipping her body around in her chair, back and forth faster and
faster, pigtails flying out. Obviously a malfunctioning robotic; it
was hard to say how long it would take for the operatives of the
display to notice. Truly scary, especially for a little baby - between
the body flailing about and the absolute dead look in the robot's eyes
Mulder felt as though he'd walked into a cut scene from "The Exorcist".
He put a hand on Scully's shoulder and pulled at her, indicating that
they should leave.
Out in the chilled sunshine, Will calmed somewhat but his eyes were
filled with huge tears and his little body hitched in sobs. Scully re-
buttoned his fleecy jacket and then handed him over to Mulder so she
could slip into her coat. Mulder bounced their son up and down,
whispering silly nonsensical things to him until his sobs ceased
completely and he slumped wearily in his father's arms. Scully
caressed his wet little cheek and her voice was full of mommy-sympathy.
"Poor little Love. Talk about creep-overload! How on earth do you
manage to find these kinds of places, even when we're on vacation,
Mulder? It never fails." She grinned up at him, and Mulder merely
stuck out his tongue and waggled his eyebrows at Will, making the teary
baby giggle. He shrugged as he rocked in place, the baby leaning in
over his shoulder.
"It's a talent and a gift, Scully. You're just jealous because you
weren't blessed with it." A loud snort was his only answer, as Scully
slipped a hand around his arm and tugged at him.
"Whatever, Mulder. All that matters is that it's almost lunchtime and
you owe me a museum visit. Pay up."
Mulder allowed himself to be pulled away towards the parking lot,
grumbling to himself loudly enough for her to overhear. "There'd
better be farm animals at this museum..."
*****************
During lunch Will continued to snuffle and fuss even after a lengthy
nursing in the car and a concentrated effort by both Scully and Mulder
to lull him to sleep. They'd driven the picturesque back roads in
between Intercourse and Bird-in-Hand, hoping the soothing motion of the
drive would calm the fretful baby. Figuring they'd be better off
avoiding a restaurant when Will was upset, Mulder had found a place
that had take-out and had bought a lunch of Lebanon bologna sandwiches
and potato salad; they'd stopped at a small park outside of Intercourse
and Scully had nursed Will. The baby accepted the feeding readily
enough but he'd pinched Scully's nipple twice with his voracious
suckling, confirming once and for all that a tooth was on its way out.
Scully had winced as she switched him to her other breast, commenting,
"I can see the writing on the wall - a nursing infant with teeth just
can't be a good thing. I have a feeling I'm about to become a chew toy
for our son."
Mulder chuckled as he opened her sandwich and plopped extra mustard on
the meat, waiting until she'd finished settling Will down in his car
seat before handing over her lunch. Scully eyed the thick sandwich.
"That had better be Gulden's you just slathered all over my Lebanon
bologna, Mulder - none of that nasty yellow junk..."
Her partner snickered and stuck a plastic fork in her potato salad,
then pretended to be wounded by her admonishment. "Scully, please -
you know I don't do yellow condiments. I got the real stuff for you,
promise."
Will dozed a little while they ate, long enough for them to take their
time sipping their drinks as they rolled their windows down an inch or
so and enjoyed the cool breeze floating over them. The park was lovely
with its leaves turning orange and red, little piles of fallen color
scattered over the grass and pathways. The sky was still cloudless and
everything looked crisp and sharply in focus - almost not quite real.
Mulder wiped excess mayonnaise from his mouth and looked around,
thinking that here was a day where anything could happen - anything at
all...
After lunch they made an attempt to stop at the Amish Farm and House
Museum, but by then Will had awoken and was gnawing on his fist like
mad, whining with teething pains.
Scully was upset and feeling guilty that she hadn't thought to buy him
any teething rings. "It just seems so soon, Mulder! But I should have
done it anyway; what was I thinking!" She rubbed a hand over Will's
back as he sobbed in Mulder's arms. There didn't seem any way to calm
the teething child. Scully's frustration was evident in her weary
face.
They stood in the sunshine nearby a pen of cute but smelly pigs.
Mulder tried in vain to distract Will from his sore gums, calling to
him and pointing at the squealing porkers. William refused to look and
continued to cry and gnaw on his hand. Mulder rocked him as they moved
from the pigs to a fenced in area that held two plow-horses and a mule.
Mulder leaned against the fence and urged, "Willy, look! Horses! Look
at the pretty horses!" His son's response bordered on hysteria, as
both hands went into his mouth. Mulder groaned.
"Maybe we'd better head to the nearest store and stock up on teething
paraphernalia, Scully."
Nodding, Scully led the way back to the parking lot and once again
helped get Will settled, this time climbing into the back seat with
him. Dipping her fingers into the paper cup of Coke she held, she
pulled out a small piece of ice and rubbed it over Will's gums, sighing
in relief when the baby quieted and allowed her to soothe his poor
little mouth. Mulder drove back into town, searching for a
supermarket.
Two hours later they were back in the room, Will snuggled between them
on the bed and a cold teething ring clenched in his mouth. Mrs.
Knaubler had been kind enough to put the ring into her freezer as soon
as they'd gotten back to the inn, and since it was filled with fast-
freezing liquid the teething ring had gotten very cold in no time at
all. They'd bought three rings in all and the other two were still in
the freezer, for later use.
Scully rubbed her son's tummy as he lay on his back gnawing on the
ring, his eyes growing drowsy from lack of sleep. Mulder stroked damp
baby hair from Will's forehead and pressed tiny kisses on his temple,
smiling down at the sleepy-eyed baby. He hummed under his breath and
watched his son's eyes slowly droop, and finally close, his mouth going
slack around the teething ring, his little body limp. Mulder pulled a
soft cotton throw from the foot of the bed and draped it over the
sleeping baby while Scully propped a few pillows around him, neither of
them wanting to disturb their baby now that he was actually asleep.
Mulder checked his watch, noting how late it had become - sighed and
flopped back into the mattress. "Poor little guy. They have no idea
what's making them feel bad. Thick cotton diapers between their legs
that get wet and chafe their skin - nasty little sharp teeth that pop
out and cause them pain they can't understand. It's gotta be hell,
being a baby." He turned his head on the pillow and regarded the
tempting fullness of the breast nearest his face, and his voice dropped
to a husky murmur as he added, "Of course there are hidden benefits..."
He leaned in to press a kiss between the soft mounds - and Scully
emitted a huge yawn right in his face.
Mulder fell back on his own pillow, pretending to be wounded by her
lack of interest, and Scully smiled apologetically at him. "I'm sorry,
Mulder - I'm so wiped out. I know it's still fairly early but I need
to sleep. Maybe once we get Will back on track I'll actually be able
to stay awake long enough... I'm sorry," she apologized again.
"This trip isn't turning out anything like I had planned. I imagined
spending glorious autumn days with my two favorite men and long, warm
nights making love with you..."
She raised her head off the pillow, far enough to press a kiss into
Mulder's neck; he slid a hand under her head for support and returned
the kiss lovingly, on her mouth. With a whispered, "I'll hold you to
it. Sleep tight, baby." Mulder carefully swung himself off the bed and
reached for Will, gathering him, the blanket and his teething ring and
carrying him into the other room. He laid his son down in the crib and
Will never stirred once. Brushing a kiss over his forehead, Mulder
left a soft light on in the corner of the room and padded back to
Scully, yanking at his tee shirt. It wouldn't hurt him to have an
early night as well - and start over again fresh, in the morning. He
slipped into bed and snuggled close to Scully, back to front. Sighing
into the pillow, face buried in her hair - Mulder dozed off.
*****************
Chapter Three
October 2001
Lancaster
Pennsylvania
Molly drifted into the center of the room; she'd been hovering in the
corner, waiting. One lone glow from the bathroom was the only
illumination available but truly she didn't even need that much light -
for she knew this man. Blindfolded or in the blackest of night, she
would know him. His smell. His shape, under the thin blanket and
sheet. She knew.
Pausing at his bedside. Looking down at him, filling her eyes and her
senses with him. The familiar ache inside her, an ache borne of wishes
that never came true and of lives cut off much too soon. She could
feel a fluttering within her and pressed one thin pale hand to her
breast, easing herself. So long... she had been searching for him for
so long. His name filtered out between her lips like an echo on the
night air.
"William..."
Next to him on the bed lay another woman, who had obviously found a way
to capture his heart. Enough to have taken him - and their child.
Her palm rubbed against a stomach that was never meant to be flat. It
had always been intended for the bearing of many children - HIS
children.
She drifted closer, examining her rival. This was a pretty woman.
Pretty enough to catch the eye of her lover... maybe even pretty enough
to house the spirit of the only woman who truly loved him. She sat
carefully on the edge of the bed, atop the sleeping woman, the pretty
one - and she stretched out, over her - and as the two blended into
one, a deep hitching breath was heard in the silent room - a gasp. And
another.
And another...
********************
Mulder awoke to the feel of heated skin, bare and silky, behind him,
and soft determined hands curling themselves over his shoulders and
chest. In a semiconscious state he turned toward the heat source and
opened an eye - finding himself face-to-face with a very awake and very
aroused Scully. In the dim light her eyes glowed, her mouth glistened
red and invitingly moist - her hands not only beckoned but they
demanded. All of him, pressed up against her. And the feel of her
brought him up hard and full and straining, in about three seconds
flat. He groaned softly, "Baby, thought you were too tired to mess
around..."
She merely responded with a throaty, "Shhh," and pressed him closer.
Mulder groaned again.
Her hands were everywhere and her fingers worked magic along his
sensitive ribs and sides. Full lips that tasted like honey teased his
mouth open, small white teeth nibbled at his lower lip - a plump wet
tongue probed at, and then conquered, his. Mouths fused tightly
together, their bodies twined around each other's on tangled sheets.
Mulder pulled her willing body beneath his and found himself cradled
between silken thighs that clamped around his hips. Her tongue slipped
alongside his cheek and trailed fire over his ear, darting inside for a
shivery tickle before slicking its way down his throat and against his
Adam's apple - and her mouth opened hotly over it and suckled like a
baby. Mulder shuddered, hard.
Jesus. Who would have thought an Adam's apple could be erogenous...?
He couldn't believe the way she looked sprawled on their bed.
Eyes fully dilated, blue-black with need, staring up into his. Skin on
fire, burning him - fingertips emitting sparks everywhere they touched
him. Wild red hair spilling out over the pillow beneath her head - and
Mulder was gasping to her, "Beautiful, so gorgeous, baby - God - I've
never seen you look so beautiful..." And his words made her mouth curl
into a secretive little smile; in the offset bedroom light he could see
it. Her arms tightened, her thighs grasped harder - and Mulder
suddenly found himself on his back with Scully straddling him and her
inner heat melting down over him - melting into him. He inhaled
deeply, drawing the heady, floral scent of her perfume into his lungs.
He hissed out a strangled, "Fuck!" - as the desire boiling up out of
control threatened to end him before he could even begin. He was dying
to be inside her and he knew the moment he got there he'd explode and
it would be all over - and even as he fought to keep his head, he heard
her chuckle, richly - and her hand reached between their bodies and
grasped him, letting him pulse in her hand for a second before raising
her hips and then coming down slowly, taking him inside.
Deep. Wet. Narrow clinging hot hot hot...
"Oh, Scully..." He could barely form coherent words. He cupped her
rounded cheeks and thrust against her, rising up from the pillow under
his head, lips closing hard around the tempting nipple within reach.
She gasped, a harsh low sound - and the thick purr of it went straight
to his groin. He could feel himself twitching, helpless to stem the
buildup, knowing she wasn't ready yet - and before he could help
stimulate her with his fingers, she slipped her hand over the base of
his penis, and circled him with her thumb and index finger - and
squeezed. Immediately, his urgency to climax ebbed...
He hissed out a strangled, "Scully, Christ... what are you doing to
me...?" A moaning growl in his ear was his only answer, as she leaned
into him and licked the outer shell, then nipped his lobe.
Sitting back a little, Scully loosened her hold on him, and started to
move again. Slowly, so slowly. Taking him deep again. It felt
incredible. He reached for her hips again but she shook her head,
forced his hands over his head, coaxing him to wrap his fingers around
the rails of the wooden headboard. Mulder decided he'd do anything she
wanted at this point - as long as she never stopped loving him this
way... he held on tightly and let her ride. And when he felt it come
up again, this time faster, more intensely - she closed her fingers
around him again and pressed, stemming him... easing him.
Prolonging him. How had she learned... WHERE had she learned? She'd
never done anything like this; felt amazing, he loved it, never wanted
it to end, it had to end, he knew it did. He was coming apart beneath
her as she moved faster, bucking against him, her legs trembling - and
he let go of the headboard and clenched his fingers into her hipbones
and slammed her down, hard. Lifted her, and did it again. And the
moment she threw back her head and screamed aloud in the throes of her
orgasm... he shattered inside her, endlessly, one long rasping shout
ringing through him. Sounds he'd never in his life made.
A full minute later he felt her sink down upon him, boneless and limp.
Mulder wrapped weakened arms around her and helped her slip from her
dominant position, cuddling her close as overwhelming exhaustion
swamped him. Damp arms and legs wound up together; trembling muscles
and after-shocks rippling through both of them... Mulder threaded a
hand in her hair and pulled her face back, tenderly kissing her lips,
her cheeks, her neck.
His head came to rest next to hers on the pillow and he whispered an
adoring, "You're amazing... I love you more than life, baby... more
than my soul..." And as he fell into slumber he thought he heard her
echoing his words... but she called him 'William'...
His last thought was that she'd loved him into an oblivion so complete
they'd both forgotten each other's names. Strange...
He slept.
As her lover breathed and dreamed, full of life even in sleep, Molly
rose from the bed. Her body ached with delicious satisfaction; she had
never felt so alive. It had been such a very long time since she'd
felt this vital, alive... loved.
Adored.
Pushing tangled hair out of her eyes she leaned over his face and
brushed one last open-mouthed kiss across his lips... and she moved
toward the smaller bedroom. As exhausted as she felt, her arms ached
for the welcome weight of her child. William, her son.
Child of her womb and of her lover's strength - her William's seed.
She stood in the doorway for a moment, staring at the small bundle of
sleeping boy. She reached the crib and bent over, touching his soft
little cheek, her eyes filling with tears and her heart overflowing
with the love that she'd been holding for him, so very long.
She slipped her arms underneath the baby and lifted him out; he didn't
awaken. There was a rocking chair in the room; she sat down with her
precious bundle and cradled him in her arms, unable to take her eyes
from him. So beautiful... her William was so beautiful. She rocked
him gently and watched him sleep.
Scully awoke to the feel the warm autumn sun streaming over the bed.
She arched her back when she felt Mulder's fingers trace a path over
her spine.
"Good morning." She pulled her shoulder up to her ear when his warm
breath washed over her neck, tickling her.
"Good morning," she mumbled into the pillow. She reached back and
cupped his jaw with one hand. Mulder twisted his head back and forth,
rasping the soft skin of her palm with his stubbled chin. Scully
rolled onto her back and opened her eyes, blinking against the sun's
rays to find Mulder propped up on one elbow, looming over her.
"Last night was incredible," he whispered. Her brows knit in
confusion, but Mulder's eyes were following his hand as he swept it
over her arm to cup one full breast in his palm. His thumb brushed
over the nipple, causing it to harden in response and Scully glanced
down, startled to find that she was naked beneath the blanket.
Mulder's hands continued to wander over her body and he pushed the
covers aside.
"I'm sorry about this," he murmured before dipping his head to brush
his lips over her hip. Scully's head lifted from the pillow to see his
lips cruising over bruises in the shapes of his fingers that stood out
against her pale flesh. "But you were making me crazy," he admitted as
his tongue darted out to lap at the offending marks. He laid his cheek
against the soft skin of her stomach and looked up at her.
"I don't think I want to know where you learned to do that," he said
cryptically, "but... God!" He slid over her body and buried his lips
against her throat.
Scully was torn between the pleasurable feel of his lips moving against
her throat and jaw and the confusion caused by his words. Where she
learned to do what, she wondered. She didn't remember anything beyond
collapsing into bed in complete and utter exhaustion. She didn't
remember putting Will into his crib, nor did she remember getting up in
the middle of the night to feed him. She didn't even remember changing
out of her clothes and she certainly didn't remember making love with
Mulder.
And yet... her limbs ached in the familiar way they did after a night
of loving Mulder and his whispered words of praise against her throat
were convincing.
"So beautiful..." He punctuated the tribute with a kiss. "Wild..." His
tongue dipped into the hollow of her throat. "Demanding..." His words
vibrated against the tender skin on the underside of her jaw. He
raised his head. "Amazing."
"Did you cast a spell over me?" He smiled into her eyes, oblivious to
her bewilderment. "I was helpless... and I loved every second of it."
Scully smiled weakly and stroked her hand over his bare shoulder. His
eyes were alight with remembered pleasure. How could she not remember?
How could she tell him that she had no memory of what was seemingly an
incredible night?
She opened her mouth, was struggling to find the words when Will made
them aware that he was awake and hungry with a loud, demanding wail.
His mother hid a sigh of relief and swung her legs over the side of the
bed to stand on shaky legs. She threw an apologetic glance toward the
man lying in the bed and shrugged into her robe.
Mulder stood and rounded the bed to intercept her on the way to Will's
room. His fingers caught the open edges of her robe and he pulled her
tightly against him, dropping a kiss onto her lips. He stepped back
when the baby's cries escalated and ran a regretful knuckle over the
swell of Scully's breast.
"He's hungry," she whispered. Mulder nodded and drew the edges of her
robe together. He cinched the belt tightly around her waist and hoped
that the old adage of 'out of sight - out of mind' would be enough to
help quell the arousal stirring low in his groin.
"Go on," he nudged her toward the baby's room. "He's waiting for you."
She pushed open the door to find Will sucking hungrily on his fingers.
Scully settled into the rocker and opened her robe. She could hear
water thundering through the walls as Mulder turned on the shower. She
absently stroked her fingers through her son's downy hair and furiously
tried to remember what Mulder and her body were telling her had
happened.
She couldn't.
She looked into her son's face. He was contentedly nursing but to her
concerned eyes his cheeks seemed to be a little swollen and she made a
mental note to be sure to pack the infant pain reliever into the diaper
bag before they set off for the day. She sighed as she remembered how
hard it had been for her to see her little boy in such pain. She had
been worn out by day's end. Scully latched onto the thought. It was
little wonder that she couldn't remember the events of the past night.
Satisfied with this simple explanation, she tucked her worries into the
back of her mind, determined that she wouldn't spend the rest of their
vacation thinking about something she couldn't control.
************
"This must be the place." Mulder steered the Explorer into one of the
parking spots along the street and stepped out onto the pavement.
Scully lifted the safety harness of Will's car seat over his head,
careful not to awaken him. The early part of the day had been good.
Will's teeth had not bothered him and they had strapped him into his
stroller and had spent several hours idly walking along the picturesque
roads, stopping at a Pennsylvania Dutch restaurant for a lunch of
tender rotisserie chicken, buttered noodles, fresh vegetables and
shoofly pie.
Will had awakened from his late afternoon nap, furiously sucking on his
fingers and drooling. The teething ring and a small dose of infant
pain reliever had helped to settle him down, but he clung to his mother
for the rest of the day.
Now she climbed out of the SUV. The air held the bite of an autumn
night and she pulled the hood of Will's jacket over his head and tugged
the cuffs of his tiny jeans down to be sure that his legs were covered.
Mulder reached for the baby and began to slide him into the infant
carrier strapped to his shoulders, but Will stirred and began to
whimper. Sighing, Scully took Will back into her arms and Mulder shot
her an apologetic look.
"Seems like only his mommy will do," he said ruefully. He peeled the
infant carrier from his shoulders and took the fussing baby away from
her as she adjusted the shoulder straps and fastened the carrier over
her chest. Mulder slipped the baby into the carrier and tucked a small
blanket around him. Will nestled against Scully's breast and quieted
upon hearing the heartbeat familiar to him from the womb. His lips
puckered rhythmically around his pacifier and he tumbled back into
sleep.
Mulder buttoned up his leather jacket and caught one of Scully's hands
in his own. A small group of people was gathered on the street corner.
This was one of the highlights of the trip that Scully had planned for
Mulder. They were taking a ghost tour.
The tour guide had several lanterns set on the ground beside her. She
introduced herself and handed the lanterns out to some of the people in
the group. Mulder clutched the metal handle of one lantern in his free
hand and flashed a smile at Scully.
The guide was good and she led the small group on a tour of many of the
local sites and buildings that were purportedly haunted. She wore a
long, black cape that fluttered in the breeze and she used her lantern
to good effect - the candlelight bathing her face in flickering shadows
as she told her tales in a low, smoky and appropriately spooky voice.
Mulder and Scully trailed along behind the others and shared private
smiles while the other guests shivered and grimaced as they listened to
the stories of restless souls that walked the grounds of Lancaster
County.
The group rounded a corner and followed the guide into a small
cemetery. High clouds drifted overhead, momentarily obscuring the
crescent moon. They walked past the large, marble monuments of the
wealthy dead of Lancaster and stopped at the far edge of the cemetery.
The guide set her lamp down onto the path and leaned against an old oak
tree.
"Are any of you staying at the Millcreek Inn?" she wondered aloud.
Mulder grinned and raised his hand. The tour guide's eyes widened
appreciatively.
"My favorite story to tell is of the ghost of the Millcreek Inn," she
confided to the rest of the group. "It's always more fun when someone
on the tour is staying there." She grinned and settled more
comfortably against the oak tree. "Of course, after you hear this, you
may want to find someplace else to stay for the rest of your visit."
Mulder raised a challenging brow at the guide as if to say 'bring it
on' and Scully rolled her eyes in amusement. She peeked under the
blanket to assure herself that Will was still comfortably asleep and
ran a hand in rhythmic circles over his tiny back. Mulder's lantern
was resting on the ground beside him and he stood behind Scully, his
arms locked around her waist and his cheek resting against her hair.
"Molly Sullivan was a beauty," the guide began. "Sixteen years old
with crystal blue eyes and strawberry blonde curls..." Her voice was
low and hypnotic as she wove the tragic tale of Molly Sullivan and
William Foxworth.
Scully relaxed against Mulder's chest and allowed herself to be swept
up in the heartbreaking story of lovers who found each other only to be
torn apart by the horrors of war and the rage of a spurned man.
"William's body is interred in the Foxworth's family plot in
Philadelphia. Word of his death never reached Molly." The guide
picked up her lantern and took a couple of steps away from the oak
tree.
"This is Molly's grave." The guide fell silent as she swept her arm
out and the lantern's light spilled over a small grave marker. The
words etched into the stone were faded and worn. A breeze kicked up,
sending a shower of oak leaves swirling wildly around the small group
of people and causing more than one person to jump at the sudden break
in the stillness. A small pile of leaves settled around Molly's
tombstone and the guide knelt to brush them clear of the grave.
"No one knows for sure, but it's widely believed that Molly was
carrying William's child when she was murdered." Scully's arms
tightened reflexively around her son and he grunted in sleepy protest.
"Molly's body may be buried here, but they say that her spirit haunts
the Millcreek Inn. For more than two hundred years, people have
reported hearing strange noises... a woman sighing sadly or the
plaintive whisper of a lullaby. No one has ever actually seen Molly,
but her presence is often marked by the scent of lilacs. She wanders
the halls, mourning the loss of her child and waiting for her true love
to return to her as he had promised."
It was a silent group that followed the guide out of the cemetery and
back to the starting point of the tour. By the time they reached their
cars, the group was once again chattering, although they were
noticeably quieter than they had been throughout most of the tour as
they thanked their guide and climbed back into their cars.
***********
Chapter Four
October 2001
Lancaster
Pennsylvania
Mulder took a sleeping Will from his mother's tired arms and carried
him into his room. While he dressed the baby in a clean diaper and
pajamas, Scully took the opportunity to go into the bathroom and wash
up before getting ready for bed. She came back into the bedroom and
Mulder took her place in the bathroom.
She pulled a pair of silky pajamas from the bureau and changed into
them before stretching out on top of the bed. She heard the pipes
squeak in the bathroom as Mulder turned on the shower. Scully scrubbed
her fists over her eyes, determined to stay awake and spend some quiet
time with Mulder.
Her lids drooped heavily, despite her best intentions. I'll just close
my eyes for a few moments, she thought and stifled a yawn behind her
hand. Just until Mulder is finished... She wrapped her arms around
herself as a sudden chill swept into the room and a strange lethargy
weighted her limbs...
************
Molly rose from the bed and began to prowl about the room. She poked
through the items strewn across the smooth surface of the bureau. She
lifted a small bottle of perfume to her nose and took an experimental
sniff, grimacing at the slightly spicy scent. She fingered the coins
and studied the unfamiliar paper greenbacks curiously. Flipping open a
leather wallet, she smiled with pleasure when she saw the image of her
beloved staring up at her. So tiny - like a miniature portrait - but
with the most amazingly lifelike detail... She squinted at the words
next to the picture. Molly had never spent a single day in her too-
short life in school and she could only read a few words. During their
short time together, she had asked William to teach her to spell his
name. Now, the familiar letters leapt up at her. "Fox... William..."
Her lips curved into a smile as they formed the words. His face was
not exactly the same and his name was slightly different, but she knew.
He had promised to come back to her and now she was more convinced than
ever that her long wait was over.
Molly looked into the large mirror attached to the bureau and wrinkled
her nose in distaste at the site of the strange sleeping garment that
she wore. Why did this woman dress like a man? Molly had borne
witness to more than two centuries of time and had grown somewhat
accustomed to the sight of women wearing trousers, but she couldn't
fathom any woman wanting to dress like a man in the bedroom. William
called the woman 'Scully'. What kind of name was that for a woman, she
sneered? She closely studied the image reflected back at her in the
mirror. Certainly, she was a pretty woman... but how did she hold
William's interest? With a man's name and unattractive nightclothes?
With the tired look in her eyes what Molly suspected was less then
exciting lovemaking.
Molly rummaged through the bureau and sighed with satisfaction when she
found a pretty nightgown neatly folded in one drawer. She remembered
the look of astonished pleasure on William's face when she had awakened
him with her caresses. Molly peeled off the offending articles of
clothing and clutched the nightgown in her hands. She could feel her
strength growing with every moment that she spent in the warmth of this
living woman's body. She would enthrall William in the only way she
knew how. She would use this body, weave a spell over him... bind him
to her with her touch and her kisses until the other woman's ways were
but a distant memory. She had found her beloved again; found their
child safe and whole with him. She would do whatever it took to keep
them.
*****************
Mulder came out of the bathroom to find Scully perched on the edge of
the bed. She was dressed in a white sleeveless cotton nightgown. The
top buttons were unfastened revealing the shapely curve of one breast,
and a strap had slipped onto her arm, exposing the creamy skin of her
shoulder to his gaze. Her bare feet were propped up on the wooden rail
of the bed frame, small toes peeking out from beneath the hem of the
nightgown.
Molly kept her head down, projecting an innocent shyness that
immediately caught Mulder's attention.
"Scully." He moved to the side of the bed and tilted her head up with
gentle fingers beneath her chin. Molly held her breath as his eyes
searched her face.
"So beautiful," he breathed softly. His lips roved over her face with
an exquisite tenderness that sent a shiver rippling down Molly's spine.
His hands cupped her cheeks; his mouth settled over hers, sipping,
tasting, nibbling. Molly lifted her hands and wrapped her fingers
around his wrists. She tugged lightly and pulled his hands away from
her face.
"Mu... Mulder," she stumbled over the unfamiliar name. Molly was
convinced that William did not recognize her... indeed, she believed
that he did not even realize who he was. It was best to be cautious,
lest she drive him away. She pressed their joined hands against her
breasts.
"I... I..." Again, she dropped her gaze, projecting a shyness she
didn't feel. "Tonight, I want to do whatever you'd like," she
whispered in a rush, eyes still locked on their hands.
"I'll do anything you want..." she offered. "Anything..." she said in
a breathless promise. She hesitantly nibbled on her lower lip and
chanced a glance upward to meet his gaze with her own. His eyes were
dark and two spots of color rode high on his cheeks as he shook his
head.
"No... Scully," he protested weakly. "I don't... we always do this
together." His voice rumbled unconvincingly. Molly guided his hand
into the open front of her nightgown until his palm brushed over her
rigid nipple.
"Please," she begged prettily. "I want this." She slipped one hand
around the back of his neck. "Anything you want," she offered again
and stood until their mouths were but a breath apart. "Please."
Mulder curled one arm around her waist and pulled her against his bare
chest. He had been semi-erect from the moment he had set eyes on her
in her virginal white nightgown sitting demurely on the edge of the
bed. Now he felt a jolt of lust that sent a surge of blood to his
groin.
Anything he wanted... Scully, offering herself to him... for him. The
idea of it rushed through him, headier and more potent than wine.
Molly gasped when she felt his flesh rise beneath the soft flannel
pants that rode low on his lean hips. She closed her eyes and offered
her mouth to him. Mulder groaned with the knowledge that she was
standing before him, ripe for the taking. His lips covered hers, his
tongue plunging into her mouth and he reveled in the moan that vibrated
beneath his hand where it covered her breast. He tore his mouth away
from hers and took a step back, panting.
"O... okay." He cleared his throat and let his hands fall away from
her body. Once again her gaze fell to the floor and Mulder fought back
a groan, more turned on than he'd like to admit by this suddenly
submissive side of his Scully. He could feel himself tightening all
over, could sense the moment his desire and need overrode any
reservations he might have. When he spoke his voice reflected that
desire.
"Undress," he said, commanding her. Her hands rose swiftly to the
buttons of her nightgown. "Slowly," he cautioned. Molly peeked up at
him through her lashes. His arms were folded over his chest and his
features were tightly drawn. Her fingers trailed over the skin exposed
by the half-open front of her nightgown before she slipped a button
free of its mooring. She fought back a knowing smile when she saw his
chest rise and fall on a quick breath. Slowly, she unfastened each
button. Her fingers trembled with repressed excitement as they tugged
on the satin ribbon and pulled the ends from the loose bow between her
breasts.
With the nightgown unbuttoned, she let her hands fall to her side to
await further instructions. He reached out and pushed a strap from her
shoulder so that both straps drooped over her arms. The sheer material
clung tenaciously to her full breasts, hiding most of the milky white
skin from his view.
"Pull your arms out," he ordered hoarsely. Molly shrugged her
shoulders and slid her arms from the straps. The filmy nightgown
slipped down and clung to her hips for a moment before slithering to
the floor to pool around her feet.
"Touch your breasts." His voice was strained and he began to breathe
rapidly. Molly ran the backs of her knuckles over her breast,
mimicking the way she had seen him touch her that morning. She tucked
her hand under her breast and lifted it slightly as though offering it
to him. Mulder moaned and leaned down, taking the rosy tip of her
breast between his lips. Molly's knees buckled and Mulder caught her
with one strong arm wound low around her hips. He released her breast
and pressed his lips to her ear. His heart was pounding - he was
beginning to sweat - he was incredibly aroused.
"God, Scully." His whisper was harsh in her ear. "Now, undress me."
Molly tangled her fingers into the flannel waist of his pants and
slowly tugged them over his hips. She paused, carefully easing the
material over his straining erection and pushed them down his legs as
far as she could reach. She felt his fingers curl over her shoulder as
he coaxed her to the floor. There was a tremble in those fingers; the
telltale reaction made her smile. His hoarse command confirmed it.
"Kneel down..."
Molly sank obediently to her knees and impulsively rested her face
against his strong thigh. His flesh bobbed in eager anticipation and
she nuzzled her cheek against the velvety soft head.
"I want to be in your mouth," Mulder growled. His face was flushed and
sweat gleamed lightly on his chest and arms. Molly nodded and her
tongue darted out to skim over the length of him. Mulder drew in a
harsh breath when her mouth closed over the tip of his penis, her lips
suckling his swollen flesh. He threaded his fingers into her auburn
hair and lightly thrust his hips forward.
"More." The words were a groan and a command and a plea all wrapped up
into one vital word. And when she nodded again her mouth slipped over
him several more inches. Mulder closed his eyes and let his head fall
back onto his shoulders.
Jesus... he'd never felt anything like it. Her mouth... So hot. So
greedy for him, for his flesh. He couldn't remember a time when Scully
had this level of greed, for him. His head raised and he looked down
at her in awe. That slender, sweet throat... she'd taken him very
deep. Inside her mouth, slick and hot, burning him. Then, sliding him
deeper, further...
Into that slender throat. Oh, Christ... Nothing like this had ever
happened to him before. Mulder twined his hands into the fiery silk of
her hair and held tight, standing on rubbery legs in the center of
their dimly-lit bedroom.
At first he fought the need to move and thrust into her mouth, just
relishing the feel of her tongue and the sharp edge of her teeth. She
slipped down over him; then pulled back with a swirl of her tongue,
over the head of his engorged penis. And again... and again. Over and
over; slowly, languidly. As if she had all the time in the world to
make this amazing love to him. Her hands moved from his hips and
curled over the backs of his thighs, slid over his buttocks... applied
a little pressure, causing his legs to part a bit more. Through half-
closed eyes glazed with an overload of passion, Mulder watched her work
his flesh, felt her kneading his cheeks...
When she released him from her throat and eased his length from her
mouth his eyes opened in surprise and he stared down at her in a
confused haze. "Scully... what are you... oh, Jesus..."
For she had locked passion-darkened eyes with his, as she brought a
hand to her mouth, and closed her lips over her index finger, wetting
it completely. Her tongue licked along the length of that finger,
until it was dripping with her saliva... his breathing hitched in his
chest... then stopped in shock when she curved that same hand behind
him again, wet finger slipping in between his cheeks, probing
delicately... searching for his most sensitive place, and finding it
easily...
Pushing inside. When her mouth took him over, deeply, again...
Mulder's eyes rolled back in his head and his raw gasp filled the quiet
bedroom. Her throat engulfed him, her finger pushed and stroked inside
him - her other hand cupped and squeezed at his balls. A triple
whammy, three moves calculated to make him come apart, to dissolve in
her mouth, burning from the inside out.
He couldn't last three more seconds.
He felt he could fly this way forever.
He was dying to reciprocate.
He selfishly wanted to explode in her amazing mouth.
He wanted to worship at her feet, kiss her little toes in grateful
supplication.
He wanted to shout to the world at large that this woman was his, his
alone - his to command. His to persuade, seduce, ensnare...
His to adore.
The groan that erupted from him shot out like a bullet, his body shook,
fingers now digging into her hair, inadvertently pulling at the soft
strands... and his eyes snapped open when her head jerked against his
hands and away from him, from his throbbing erection. He looked down
at the exact moment Scully looked up at him, her mouth still open,
rounded and wet and glistening, eyes also rounded - with utter shock.
*********
For Scully, it was like swimming from the depths of the ocean floor.
Sounds came through in a muffled roar and when she tried to open her
eyes, everything was dark and mysterious. She fought against invisible
bonds that held her captive in the murky darkness - like tentacles of
seaweed wrapped around her limbs. Something was snarled in her hair,
tugging, pulling... hurting. Her heart beat madly beneath her breast
and she had trouble breathing. There, in the distance - a glimmer of
light and she struggled toward it. She burst to the surface and opened
her eyes, fighting for breath.
And she stared up, at the dark and hard length of him poised right
above her face - she took shocked note of the way she knelt at his
feet, with her hand buried in the heat of his groin and a finger
pressing inside him. Stared at the blazing eyes and wide, gasping
mouth of a lover she suddenly didn't seem to know very well... somehow
a stranger.
His image was blurred - Mulder, and yet not Mulder. Eyes that were,
for a split second, more green than hazel; his features were younger,
his hair longer. His fingers were still knotted in her hair and his
chest was heaving. She drew in a deep breath and her senses were
swamped by his familiar scent mingled with the muted fragrance of
lilacs. She blinked and his face came into focus. He whispered her
name and his hips pulsed toward her pleadingly.
Scully was frightened. She remembered stretching out on top of the bed
while waiting for Mulder to finish in the bathroom. Now, in her mind's
eye, she caught fleeting glimpses of them. Images came to her as
though through a gauzy veil. She - stripping the nightgown from her
body, eyes downcast in submission. His expression - at once shocked
and filled with lust. She - stroking her fingers in a movement both
wanton and innocent over her breasts; cupping and offering her flesh as
a gift to the man towering over her. He - pushing her to her knees,
his voice demanding, commanding as he tangled his fingers in her hair.
She - taking him deep, deep into her mouth and throat... licking her
finger and curling her hand around his flank...
Scully squeezed her eyes shut against the images. Fragments of
memories... of which she had no recollection. And yet, between her
legs she felt a familiar stickiness; could smell her own arousal. A
light coating of perspiration was drying on her skin and she shivered
once and let her hands fall away from his body.
Mulder sank to his knees in front of her and cupped her face between
his hands. "Scully," he murmured. He whispered her name over and over
as he peppered her face with kisses. His arms curled around her, but
instead of growing warmer, her limbs felt weighted with an icy
coldness. The air around her seemed to shimmer with rage, pulling at
her, threatening to drag her back into the murky darkness. She coiled
her arms around Mulder's neck and held on tightly. The windows flew
open with a bang, lace curtains streaming in the cool, autumn wind.
From the top of the bureau, the small bottle of perfume fell onto its
side and the loose change tumbled to the floor with a clatter.
For Mulder, the flung-open windows and flapping curtains, spilled
bottles and coins should have warned him that something unnatural was
happening in this historic room. But he was too far gone, too deeply
into his own unfulfilled needs and desires, to focus on anything other
than the way every pore of his body screamed for release, for his
climax. He'd never felt anything like it, this insane build-up of pure
lust. And somewhere in the back of his mind he knew the selfishness he
was exhibiting was very unlike him - yet he couldn't seem to stop. He
did manage to ease the demand of his hands on her body, suddenly
mindful of the possibility of bruising her soft and shivering skin. It
took every ounce of his resolve, but he managed...
The trembling of Scully's muscles eased under the familiarity of
Mulder's gentling caresses. His erection had not subsided in the least
and was prodding her hip insistently. She lifted her head from his
shoulder and stared into his eyes. Gone was the stranger and in his
place was the man she adored. Determined to forget about her fears and
worries and instead to focus on Mulder, she slid her fingers into his
damp hair and shifted, rubbing the soft skin of her stomach against his
aching flesh.
Scully kept her gaze locked on his and her fingers pressed on his neck
as she reclined on the soft carpeting beneath her. She pulled him
toward her and Mulder propped himself on one elbow. Scully trailed one
hand over his shoulder. Her palm grazed his chest and she stroked her
palm over one pectoral muscle, amazed - as always - when her touch
elicited a soft groan from him. She never tired of the loving look in
his eyes when they touched; never grew accustomed to the fact that he
wanted her. She loved to watch the slow fluttering of his lashes when
she slipped one hand between their bodies to wrap her fingers around
his hot flesh. This man... this man she knew. Partner. Best friend.
Lover. Father of her child.
She parted her legs and drew him into the cradle of her thighs. She
linked her fingers with his and drew their arms over her head,
stretching, lengthening her torso and pressing her breasts into his
chest. She twined her legs around his hips and brushed her mouth over
his jaw.
Filled with an inexplicable need to see his eyes and for him to see her
face, she whispered to him as he sank into her body. When he was deep
inside of her, she smiled. Scully arched her back, lifting her hips
from the floor to meet him. He moaned her name with each thrust of
their hips. As they moved together, they were oblivious to everything
but each other; unmindful of the cold, unaware of the shimmering rage
of a woman, long dead, watching her beloved prepare to spill himself
into the body of another woman.
**************
Mulder hadn't understood the sudden change in Scully's demeanor from
innocent seductress to the shivering woman in his arms, earlier in the
night when she seemed to be making frenzied love to him one minute and
then almost cowering from him in the next. His own body had been
quivering with unfulfilled desire and he couldn't have fought the
desperate urge to bury himself in her, much longer. The relief he felt
when she began to respond to him again was so much like the easing of
an agonizing ache that he'd actually groaned aloud as if in pain.
The wet silken feel of her surrounding him was sublime as always - the
loving way she curled her arms and legs around him, arched herself
against him, a familiar and wonderful thing... yet in the back of his
mind Mulder couldn't help but compare the woman who now clung to him so
sweetly to the temptress with the wild red hair who just minutes ago
made his body strum and vibrate as never before. And yet, they were
both the woman he adored. As he plunged his hands into her damp hair,
feeling her nails drag up his back and press into his spine, as he
thrust and shivered and groaned and came, hard and deep inside her...
Mulder told himself that she'd suddenly for no apparent reason gone shy
on him - and he found it rather endearing. He buried his lips against
her neck and rasped out one shuddering, "Scully...!"
And as she convulsed and cried out beneath him, clenching him deep
within her... Mulder could swear he detected the fragrance of lilacs.
*********************
She had stolen this woman's release, and she reveled in the warm life
now coursing through her senses. Wet and hot and familiar and oh,
she'd missed it so badly... that explosion of blood and heat and life,
within her lonely soul.
Molly hadn't been able to bear the thought of this red-haired woman
with the manly name, taking her man's seed - not when it was becoming
easier and easier to slip inside her, take her over, bask in her
emotions and in her utter life force. And so when the woman had begun
to shudder, to gasp and to clutch at her beloved... Molly had glided
over - and had taken over. She'd made him come, for her - within her.
Pure bliss... William, my love...
He sank down over her and Molly welcomed the heavy and sated body
covering hers. She couldn't breathe very well but she didn't care;
after all, she'd been bereft of inhaling air for hundreds of years.
For the feel of him in her arms, Molly would forego oxygen forever, if
necessary. His head came to rest on the carpet under her shoulder and
he stared deeply into her blue eyes. And his gaze was loving and
worshipful; in that moment he looked exactly the way William had when
last he'd gazed upon her, their final night together. He smiled
sleepily at her and Molly smiled back, adoring him as never before.
Her beloved William...
She could have stayed there all night, awake and holding him in her
arms, watching him sleep - but a soft snuffle and a whimper from the
small room adjoining the bedroom drew her attention, and Molly raised
herself on her elbows, carefully dislodging the slumbering man beside
her. The baby... her baby. William the Second, her other beloved.
Coming awake in the middle of the night, wanting his mother.
Wanting her. Molly rose eagerly, unaware as she gained her feet and
walked to the door that the slumbering man sprawled on the floor had
awoken and was watching the sway of her hips in confusion, was actually
sniffing the air as if detecting a fragrance that wasn't supposed to be
cloying and intrusive...
There he was. Her beautiful baby. Will lay on his back, sleepy yet
awake, one plump hand sucking hard at his fingers. Molly's hungry eyes
soaked him up, committing him to memory, hands reaching out for him.
She couldn't wait to hold him, suckle him - her breasts ached with the
need to nourish him...
When her hands touched his pajama-clad body, Will blinked up at her,
one fist still crammed in his mouth. Molly scooped him into her arms,
snuggling him near, crooning to him all the words she'd held inside her
for so very long... and as she gazed down into his sweet face with
rapturous eyes, Will opened his little rosebud mouth -
And screamed bloody murder.
The shock of his howling distress stunned Molly so much that she almost
dropped him. His little body twisted and stiffened in her arms; tears
pouring from his huge blue eyes - and Molly hurriedly sat down in a
nearby chair and brought him to her bare breast, deciding the poor love
must be starving for mother's milk. With sniffles and hitching
whimpers Will rooted for her nipple, latching on fiercely... only to
pull away in distaste and sob anew, harder than before.
Molly stared down at him in confusion and worry; her darling boy had to
be famished. Why else would he take on so? She cupped a hand under
her breast and brought the nipple close to his mouth again, pressing
the hard nub to his mouth, trying to coax his lips to open and take his
feeding -
When suddenly a sharp pain tore through her breast, and with eyes
glazed in tears Molly looked down to see blood on her nipple. William
had bitten her! With the new tooth he'd been cutting somehow he'd
managed to bite down and draw blood... Molly could feel the pain of it,
the shock of it... but the pain seemed to be fading, as the room
suddenly faded, right along with the feel of the sobbing baby in her
arms... her arms. They were fading, too...
Molly managed to cry out a despairing, "NOOOO... William!..."
******************
Chapter Five
October 2001
Lancaster
Pennsylvania
What the fuck was going on?
Mulder had watched Scully leave the room, and it was his lover and yet
not. Her hips moved in a way he'd never seen before; she seemed to
glide instead of walk... and that smell again, of lilacs. Scully never
wore lilac perfume...
Mulder raised himself on an elbow, now awake enough to register the
sound of his son crying, loudly. Well, that was nothing new, at least
lately with the discomfort of teething pains. Yet this cry had a
panicked note to it he'd never heard before - and he found himself
pushing to his feet and following the form of a lover he suddenly
wasn't sure he knew.
He paused in the doorway, hidden in the night's deep shadows, and
watched as she lifted Will from the crib; watched with a mouth hanging
open as his son not only pitched one hell of a fit when she tried to
hold him - but actually bit the nipple she tried to put into his mouth.
Bit her. Bit his mother...
And Mulder stared anew in complete confusion and escalating worry, when
the blood welled on Scully's pale breast and he saw her take a huge
shuddering breath, her entire body trembling as if icy-cold; she stared
down at the baby as if she'd never seen him before.
Then that despairing cry of hers - "NOOOO... William!..."
When Mulder made a sound of distress, there in the doorway, her gaze
swung to him and he gaped at the blank look of her, so unlike Scully.
For a few seconds they stared at each other in mute disbelief, eyes
locking together... and their son broke the odd spell by gurgling in
satisfaction as his persistent rooting gained him the reward of his
mother's uninjured breast and he caught the nipple between determined
little lips and began suckling like mad. The other nipple still seeped
blood... Mulder suddenly found his voice.
"Scully - what the hell's going on?"
She didn't seem to hear him, her eyes still focused in on her son and
then glancing down at her injured nipple. Finally she raised tear-
filled eyes to Mulder and her voice sounded so lost, when she spoke.
"Mulder... how did I get out here? Why am I bleeding?"
****************
Scully's head ached when she awoke the next morning, her pulse pounding
in her temples. She pushed the tangle of hair away from her face and
blinked, slowly bringing the room into focus. Mulder was sitting up in
bed beside her with Will propped against his upraised knees. Mulder's
brow was furrowed and his eyes were dark with concern as he studied her
in the pale morning light. Will's tiny face crinkled in a welcoming
smile when he saw that his mother was awake and he reached out with one
hand, cheerfully babbling a good morning to her.
Scully groggily pushed herself into a sitting position and reached out
for Will who lunged eagerly into her arms. She unbuttoned the front of
the white cotton nightgown that she vaguely remembered Mulder helping
her into before she collapsed into bed. Opening the last of the
buttons, she bared her breasts for Will's breakfast. The sight of the
small bandage covering the nipple of her left breast brought back a
hazy memory of Will screaming in her arms, intensifying the pounding in
her temples. She guided the baby's mouth to her right breast and
lifted tired eyes to Mulder.
"How are you?" he asked, softly running a finger around the edge of the
small bandage. Scully shook her head and rubbed the fingers of one hand
through her son's downy hair. His eyes were closed contentedly, a
marked contrast to the distraught child of only a few hours earlier,
and his little hand flexed open and closed against the upper swell of
her breast.
"What happened, Mulder?" Scully leaned her aching head against
Mulder's shoulder and felt his arms come around her in an almost
protective embrace. He leaned his cheek on her head and she heard the
sound of his whiskers rasping against the fine silk of her hair when he
shook his head.
"I... Do you remember the story we heard on the tour last night?"
Scully adjusted Will more comfortably in her arms. She tilted her head
back and frowned up at Mulder.
"What are you..." She was confused. Mulder was watching her so
intently, but his question made absolutely no sense to her. "What
about the ghost tour?" she asked, trying to gather her scattered wits.
"The tour guide talked about the ghost that has haunted this inn for
the last two hundred and some years," he said softly.
Scully nodded and closed her eyes tiredly. "Molly Sullivan."
"Right." Will had finished nursing and Mulder raised his arm from
Scully's shoulders to lift the baby. He slipped both hands under the
baby's arms but Will turned his head back against his mother's breast
with an irritated little grunt.
"Leave him." Scully shifted the baby onto her shoulder and rubbed his
back with the flat of her hand. "What about Molly Sullivan?" she
prompted impatiently. Her left breast was engorged with milk and was
beginning to ache. She couldn't allow Will to suckle there. The wound
was small but it was painful and still covered with the anti-biotic
ointment that Mulder had spread over it before covering it with the
bandage. The soreness in her breast was fast becoming a distraction
and she tried to ignore the pain and focus on Mulder's words instead.
Mulder curved his arm around her shoulders again and began to speak.
"The tour guide said Molly wanders the halls of this inn, mourning the
loss of her baby and waiting for her lover to return," he reminded her.
After he had tended to the wound Will had left on Scully's breast, he
had lain awake all night, watching her sleep; his mind had whirled with
a thousand crazy ideas. But his thoughts kept returning to the same
place and now he tried to put his theory into words for the first time.
"Scully, you don't wear floral perfumes, do you?" She blinked at the
confusing change in the direction of his conversation and struggled to
keep up with him.
"No," she said. "I don't care for flowery scents." She bit back an
impatient sigh. Mulder knew exactly what kind of fragrance she
preferred.
"Every night since we arrived at this inn... when I'm in your arms..."
Mulder fell silent for a moment before continuing. "The perfume you're
wearing reminds me of the huge lilac bush that grew in the yard of our
house on the Vineyard."
'Her presence is often marked by the scent of lilacs.' The tour
guide's words rang clearly in Scully's mind and her gaze shot up to
Mulder's. She started shaking her head and her arms tightened around
Will until he gave a breathless grunt. She eased her grip slightly but
continued to clutch him close.
"Nonono..." Scully shook her head rapidly and pulled away from Mulder.
He scrambled to his knees before her and placed his hands on her legs,
holding her in place.
"Just hear me out." His fingers clutched her through the sheets
covering her legs. "Scully... what do you remember about last night?"
She pressed her mouth against the reddish-brown curls on Will's head
and closed her eyes. She tried to block him out, but Mulder's voice
was insistent.
"Scully, one minute you were a... a seductress," he told her. "The
last two nights..." He licked his lips and struggled to find a way to
put his thoughts into words. "You've been... different. Aggressive.
Wanton and inventive... wild."
She watched his eyes close and his teeth sink into his lower lip as he
recalled the last two nights spent in her passionate embrace and a
faint memory of the words he had spoken tickled her brain. 'Beautiful,
so gorgeous... I've never seen you look so beautiful...' Scully
swallowed hard and her gaze fell to the sleepy baby in her arms when
Mulder opened his eyes again.
"I didn't realize it at the time," he continued in a soft voice, "but
now I know." His thumbs traced circles over her knees. "When you woke
up yesterday morning... you had no memory of the previous night, did
you?" Scully rubbed her finger over Will's diaper-clad bottom and
stubbornly refused to meet Mulder's gaze.
"And last night..." His voice faltered for a second and he cleared his
throat before continuing. "One minute you were driving me out of my
mind... swallowing me whole..." Her face flamed at his words and she
began to pull away from him. "Then suddenly... I don't know." His
voice held all of the confusion he had been feeling the previous night.
"You were looking at me with such shock and... fear." His words were
rough with suppressed emotion. "God, Scully... you were looking at me
as if I was a stranger - like you didn't know who I was."
Scully opened her mouth to speak but the words were stuck in her
throat. To admit that she had no memory of how she came to be kneeling
on the floor before him... doing things to him - with him - that she
had never done before... would give credence to Mulder's crazy theory.
She gulped in much-needed air, burying the admission deep in her heart
before speaking.
"Mulder, this has got to be one of the craziest things you've ever said
to me."
"Scully..."
"No! I know that you'll believe just about every paranormal story that
comes down the pike but, Mulder! Even for you - this is extreme."
Mulder dug the heels of his palms into his eyes, growling at the too
familiar sensation of arguing with Scully and her refusal to accept
extreme possibilities. He listened, as her voice grew more strident
with every word.
"I am NOT being possessed by the ghost of a Revolutionary-War era
prostitute, Mulder!" Will whimpered and stirred in her arms as her
voice lifted into a near-shout. Scully stroked a hand over the baby's
head and immediately lowered her voice.
"I booked this inn because I thought you would enjoy the history and
supposed hauntings but, Mulder you are taking it too far. I know that
things haven't worked out the way we had planned and I'm sorry that
I've been so worn out and..."
Mulder reached out and grabbed her by the shoulders, giving her a tiny
shake. "Jesus, Scully! The other night, you called me William! That
was his name - the name of Molly's lover." His voice pleaded with her
to make the connection and he bit back a curse at the stubborn set of
her jaw. "Even our five-month-old son knows that something is going
on. He bit you last night!" His gaze dropped to the bandage covering
her left breast. "Maybe he's only got one small nubby tooth so far but
he was frightened enough of the woman who held him, to draw blood and
leave behind a wound, Scully. He would have had to bite down very hard
and that means he had to be so scared. When you walked into that room
and picked him up last night... he knew that something was wrong... he
knew that the woman holding him was not his mother!"
Scully's arms tightened around the baby again and she rubbed her cheek
against his hair, trying not only to comfort the child, but herself as
well. The headache raged unabated and her vision blurred - whether
from tears or from the pain - she wasn't sure. Her heart was hammering
in an out-of-control rhythm between her breasts. She didn't want to
talk about this any longer. She didn't want... she couldn't... God,
please make him stop!
"Mulder!" Her voice was a harsh whisper. She lifted pleading eyes to
his. "Please... I'm so tired. I can't do this right now." She slumped
back against the pillows and Mulder relented in the face of her obvious
exhaustion.
He reached out and lifted the baby from her arms. Will stirred briefly
before settling more comfortably against his father's chest.
"Why don't you get some rest," Mulder said softly. "Will and I are
going to get dressed and go out for a little while. I'll tell Mrs.
Knaubler that you're sleeping and ask her not to disturb you." He
stood and watched as Scully nodded wearily and tugged the blankets up
to her chin. Her eyes slowly closed and he knew that she was
pretending to sleep as he moved about the room, dressing himself and
the baby.
From her corner near the window, Molly watched with satisfaction as he
stepped into the hallway and pulled the door closed behind him. He
recognized her, she thought joyfully! For the first time in more than
two hundred years, someone had finally seen her... If she'd had any
doubts before that this man called Mulder was her beloved William come
back for her, those doubts had vanished. He was back, just as he had
promised.
Her happiness was so complete that she could even forgive him his
stubbornness in refusing to acknowledge her as baby William's true
mother. No doubt he felt some residual loyalty to the woman who bore
the earthly body that encased the spirit of her beautiful baby boy.
Well, she could afford to be generous... up to a point. Soon enough,
he'd understand everything, and she'd reap the benefits of that
understanding. Until then...
Molly smiled, straightening her spine, smoothing her fiery hair. Now,
it was up to her. This time, she would let nothing tear her family
apart.
She drifted across the room and stopped beside the bed to stare into
the wan face of the woman sleeping fitfully beneath the colorful quilt.
She threw a glance over her shoulder toward the closed door.
"When you come home, William... I'll be waiting for you."
************
It wasn't until he'd strapped the gurgling Will into his car seat and
revved up the engine that Mulder knew where he wanted to go.
Back at the Millcreek Inn, Mulder had sought out Mrs. Knaubler to let
her know Scully wasn't to be disturbed. He'd found her in the warm and
bright kitchen, baking banana bread. She'd greeted him cheerfully and
made him sit down at the scrubbed oak table, serving him a piece of
warm bread dripping with melted butter, and a cold glass of apple
juice. Mulder had known better than to protest, so he ate the
delicious snack while Mrs. Knaubler bounced Will on her hip and tickled
his little tummy, making him giggle.
Brushing the remaining crumbs from his lips, Mulder smiled at the
innkeeper and thanked her for the treat. She waved his thanks away
with a merry, "Oh, it's nothing at all, Mr. Mulder! I love to cook and
this time of year the number of guests I enjoy dwindles off into
nothing. When I have a few, I like to fatten them up!" She gave his
lean frame the once over and chuckled aloud at the pink cheeks her
perusal brought on.
Managing to get his embarrassment under control, Mulder stood up to
leave, a wriggling Will deposited back into his arms after one last
tickle from Mrs. Knaubler. Settling the baby on his hip, Mulder
inquired, "If I wanted to find the library, how would I get there?"
Mrs. Knaubler obligingly fetched a paper and pencil and drew him a map,
explaining, "Just follow the 'City Center' signs until you get to Brook
Street..." A few more lines and the map was complete. As she handed it
to Mulder she asked, "Are you wanting to do some research?"
Mulder shrugged. "Well, not really... I confess to some curiosity
about the legend of Molly Sullivan and the man she still waits for,
this William Foxworth. I thought I'd see what I could dig up at the
library..." His words faded off at the decisive shake of her head.
"Well, I can save you a trip, I think. You won't find much of anything
at the public library. William Foxworth was from a well-to-do family
and any historical reference on his life and death would be in his home
town, Philadelphia. In fact, his identity as Molly's lover wasn't
known until after both their deaths." She poured another glass of
apple juice and slid it across the table to Mulder, who sank back down
into his chair with a now-dozing Will curled in his arm. Mrs. Knaubler
took the chair across from him and resumed her tale.
"You see, Molly died in the tavern of this very inn, as the legend
states. A few days after her death, the innkeeper went up to her room
to clear out her few possessions. It was said he liked Molly quite a
bit and was very saddened by her murder.
"Well, he was in her room, packing up her clothes - and his foot caught
on a loose floorboard. When he pulled at it the board came up and he
saw there was a hole in the floor. There was a little bundle in the
hole, and a rolled-up parchment. He picked up the items and was
surprised to see a substantial amount of coins tied into a
handkerchief.
"Then he unrolled the parchment - and saw a wonderfully-detailed
drawing of a young man, very handsome - and sleeping in what appeared
to be Molly's bed. And he recognized the man in the drawing as the
soldier William Foxworth, who'd frequented the inn and had made Molly
so happy for so brief a time. He could only imagine she'd drawn it,
for no one else had ever come to her room once William became her true
love.
"Well, the innkeeper refused to send it to William's family, preferring
to have it framed and to keep it as a memento of the young woman who'd
died so young. And he used her saved coins to assure her a proper
burial with a headstone marker, instead of having her placed in a
common grave, which was often the fate of poor people in that day and
age. That's why Molly Sullivan has a nice marker and a private
gravesite." Mrs. Knaubler sat back in her seat and regarded Mulder
with a sad smile, no doubt thinking of the tragic fate of the two
lovers.
Mulder returned her smile, rocking Will as he slept in his arms. "I
would have liked to have seen that drawing."
Mrs. Knaubler clapped her hands excitedly. "Well then, Mr. Mulder...
you're in luck! Because this inn has remained basically the same since
Molly's and William's day - including the paintings on the wall. And
William's drawing... it's in the evening dining room. Would you like
to see it?"
Mulder was on his feet in a second, suddenly wanting more than anything
to see that drawing. At his earnest, "Yes, I would," the smiling
innkeeper got to her feet as well and led the way into the dim and
quiet dining room.
In a corner of the room, framed in gilded oak and matted with faded
blue velvet, William Foxworth reclined on a rumpled bed, fast asleep.
Sheets were twisted around his hips but his muscled chest was bare; he
lay on his side with a tousled dark head pressed against a pillow and
one hand tucked under his cheek. The detail in the drawing was
impressive; Mulder could see the man's beard stubble, the well-defined,
full lips and one elegantly-strong hand as it lay on his chest. And
beside him, Mrs. Knaubler sucked in a humming breath of surprise.
"You know, Mr. Mulder... when you and your missus first came here I
thought there was something familiar about you but I couldn't quite put
my finger on it. But now I know... why, you're the spitting image of
our William Foxworth!"
Mulder turned to her and stared at her, mouth hanging open... then he
faced the drawing, and gaped at it.
***********************
Chapter Six
October 2001
Lancaster
Pennsylvania
After leaving the inn - trying not to show on his face the reaction to
William Foxworth's drawing - Mulder had walked slowly in the bright
fall sunshine, Will propped in limp slumber over a shoulder - and
thought about the astonishing resemblance. The longer he'd looked at
the drawing the more he could see it. True, William's eyes had been
closed - but otherwise it was like looking at his twin.
Mulder was trying like hell to fight his own thoughts, as he eased out
of the inn's parking lot and onto the deserted country road.
Unsuccessful at holding them at bay, he drove slowly, on automatic
pilot - and let them run wild.
William Foxworth could be his brother - and the ghost of Molly Sullivan
thought her lover had returned to her. It all made sense - true, a
horrifying sort of sense... but nonetheless a sense he had to face.
Mulder drove and thought about Molly Sullivan and her passion for her
William. A love like that transcended years, centuries - it had kept
her spirit bound to the Millcreek Inn, her promise to a dead lover held
fast and true. It had dropped her into the path of a living man in
whom she saw her beloved William - had persuaded her to find a way to
lay claim to a child she believed was theirs.
Because of that belief Mulder knew that he and Scully - and Will - were
in serious trouble, whether or not he accepted the idea that he was
some reincarnation of William Foxworth.
In addition, he was having a difficult time reconciling the intense
pleasure Scully had given him last night... when she really wasn't
Scully at all. It felt like cheating, though there wasn't a way in
Hell he'd cheated. He'd been loved by his lover - loved with sensual
purpose, and in a way she'd never done before. And he couldn't forget
it, didn't want to let it go - because as wonderful as loving Scully
always was, there seemed to be a tiny part of him that missed a few,
special acts of love... and that just wasn't fair of him, not at all.
Not fair... Because William was five and a half months old - and
before Scully became pregnant the number of times she and Mulder had
made love could be counted on half a hand. And all the time he was
gone, he'd missed out on the wonder of being intimately joined with the
woman he adored, while she carried life within her body...
After he returned and after Will's birth it was difficult to find the
time to be together in any sort of intimacy; new babies had a way of
draining the energy of both parents. Plus Scully had needed extra time
to heal; Will was not a small newborn.
Their intimacy had at first of necessity been very careful, very
gentle. They'd had to wait for two months due to an unexpected
infection brought on by Scully tearing during delivery. Their first
few times were painful for her even though Mulder had been so
careful... He remembered the very first try; after several thrust
attempts that brought tears to Scully's eyes, Mulder had withdrawn from
her and had instead used his fingers to bring her to orgasm. It had
been a less-than-satisfactory way to go - but it had killed Mulder to
see her crying. And he remembered that he'd been aching to be inside
her, but the last thing he'd wanted to do was upset her further.
Yet he remembered, God how could he not? He remembered the feel of her
mouth upon him, both as herself and as this formless ghostly presence.
Dana Scully had taken him into her mouth perhaps twice in their
intimate history - and it had been warm and wet and wonderful. She'd
been a little shy, a bit hesitant - but Lord, he'd loved it.
And last night... Jesus. Mulder gave up trying to drive and think at
the same time, and pulled over onto the road's shoulder, letting the
engine idle. Last night the term "Blow-Job" had taken on all sorts of
new connotations; Mulder had never experienced anything like it. He
was selfish enough to admit to himself that he wanted it again, just
like that... and the guilt that filled him was all too real. It was
his woman... and yet it wasn't. Sooner or later Scully would realize
this, accept it - find herself deeply hurt by it. And then they'd have
find a way to deal with what it meant to them, but for now there was a
threat to their relationship and a danger to Scully and their son -
Mulder rubbed at his tired eyes, then started up the Explorer and nosed
back onto the highway. Ten minutes later he stood in front of a plain,
simple headstone - in the poorer section of Lancaster's only cemetery -
reading the words, 'Molly Sullivan' on the worn and weathered marker.
In his stroller Will dozed fitfully, gnawing on one of his hands. The
wind whipped up a bit and blew dead leaves around the wheels of the
stroller, same as a few nights before when they first took the ghost
tour. Mulder stared at the stone marker and told himself a dead young
woman was laid to rest here, fighting against the remembered feel of
the lover who drove him just about insane last night. Reminded himself
of the senseless tragedy of a life cut short much too soon, the
sheltered embryo within her body snuffed out as well - and strained to
forget the sound of his child sobbing in the arms of a mother he didn't
recognize and a soul he wouldn't accept.
Mulder stood in the rising wind of a desolate section of a very old
cemetery and tried not to think of one reason the ghost of Molly
Sullivan could have for imagining he was her William, come back to her.
But he only served to convince himself that once she made up her mind
this was so... that she'd find a way to inhabit Scully's body, forever.
And in doing so, end his world as he knew it.
***************
By the time Mulder and Will returned to Millcreek Inn, the day had
lengthened quite a bit and the beginnings of a storm had settled in.
He parked the SUV and got out, opening up the rear and covering Will's
head with his blanket before hauling him out and making a dash for the
front doors. Will gurgled and babbled underneath the blanket, finally
emerging from its folds once they were safely inside the lobby. He
smiled a huge gappy grin at his father, who promptly buried his cold
nose in the child's neck, making him shriek with laughter. Together
they headed up to their suite - and the woman waiting for them both...
The bedroom door was ajar; dim lighting and a flickering fireplace
created a cozy and warm atmosphere. Without stopping by the master
bedroom Mulder carried Will to the smaller bedroom and laid him down,
quickly and efficiently whipping off his soiled diaper and getting him
into his fleecy sleeper. While Will played with his fingers and cooed,
Mulder got a fresh blanket and scooped up his son, carrying him into
his mother -
Who was reclining on the bed in the glow of a fireplace and several
strategically-placed candles... naked but for a pair of pale blue thong
panties. Mulder stopped dead in his tracks, and gawked at her. When
she raised her eyes and smiled sensually at him he knew beyond a doubt
that Molly had once more intruded upon their lives.
Mulder closed his eyes and swallowed down the flare of anger and fear -
and reluctant desire - that her presence caused. The anger and fear
was workable; it was a normal reaction to the threat she posed against
his family. The damn desire was another layer he didn't need, not now
or ever...
God, she looked incredible. Mulder stood locked in position in the
doorway of the seductively-lit room, his son in his arms, and fought
the urge to fall to his knees in front of her.
Her skin gleamed pale rose in the dim light, a pile of pillows behind
her back giving a provocative thrust to her lovely breasts. From this
angle the bandage covering part of her injured breast was barely
visible. The tiny thong hid nothing and revealed only the perfection
of her rounded hips and slender thighs. Red silky hair spilled out
around her head and over one shoulder, her lips glistened moistly as if
she'd just finished licking at them. And the blue fire of her gaze
just about ate him alive. Her focus was so tight on him that she at
first didn't seem to notice the baby in Mulder's arms, adorably dressed
for bed and looking like a little angel. And if nothing else brought
it home to Mulder that this exquisite creature wasn't his Scully...
that little detail certainly did.
Well, that and the fact that when she finally did switch her attention
to Will, and smile sweetly at him... the child promptly began
whimpering unhappily and hiding his face against his father's shoulder.
Mulder rubbed Will's back soothingly as he continued to stare silently
at the stranger in his bed, who chose to ignore the baby's distress and
instead concentrate on a situation she perhaps felt she could better
control - Mulder. Her arms stretching toward him in invitation, she
whispered a throaty, "William... I've missed you so..."
The voice coming out of her mouth was soft and husky with emotion - and
it just about killed him to hear it because it wasn't Scully. And
Mulder could have faced down the most horrendous nightmarish enemy from
their past, gladly - rather than face the irrefutable proof that for
this moment his lover and the mother of his child had in effect
vanished from her own body.
As a result the response she got from the unsmiling man standing in the
doorway wasn't the one she was expecting. "The name's Fox Mulder, and
I want you to release my partner. NOW."
When in a low, hurt voice she begged, "Don't you know me? You must!
I've waited for you, for so long. I knew you'd return to me someday,
and bring me our son. I knew it. Please... don't tease me. Come to
me, my love - let me hold you, and our son."
He shook his head and his eyes were hard as they stared at her. "I
don't know you, Lady. Believe it. I'm not who you think I am."
Mulder watched those familiar blue eyes narrow in displeasure at his
words and their tone, before they softened again and took on a pleading
light. She raised herself to her knees and Mulder had to mentally
remind himself this was not the woman he knew and loved. He took one
tiny step backwards and hitched Will closer to him; the hungry baby was
now gnawing like mad on his fist and snuffling in distress. It was
only a matter of minutes before the snuffles became cries and then
screams of outrage, not to mention pain, for his teething woes had
intensified over the course of the day. Will needed to be fed -
immediately - and he needed medication applied to his raw gums and a
caring and gentle hand to pat his back as he was rocked to sleep.
Will needed his mommy - Mulder took a deep breath and planned a
strategy, to reason with the sultry creature on her knees before him.
Even from across the room he could see how engorged with milk her
breasts had become. It had to be causing her some sort of major
discomfort.
As if reading his thoughts she cupped the underside of both breasts
with her hands and one caressed her uninjured nipple while the other
splayed gentle fingers over the bandage, hiding it from view. Her eyes
never left Mulder's. If this had been Scully rubbing at her body and
on her knees in the middle of a room designed for seduction... Mulder
would have been all over her. Instead he steeled himself and prepared
to fight.
"Molly. You have to help Will. He's hungry and his mouth is sore from
his baby teeth cutting through. Please... let Scully come forward, and
feed him."
When she slowly shook her head Mulder smothered an urge to curse aloud.
He had to stay calm... He tried again. "M... Molly," he stumbled over
the incongruity of calling Scully by a ghost's name, "Please... Will
needs his mother. Please..."
Again, Molly shook her head - reluctant to give up control of the body
she now inhabited. The baby's cries were becoming louder and her heart
clenched with love and pity. She reached out, intent on gathering the
tiny creature to her breast and to relieve his suffering, but when she
touched him, the baby shrieked and buried his face against his father's
chest. Molly gasped and her hands flew to her forehead, kneading away
the sudden ache that contorted her features into a pained grimace...
**********
With a low, snarling cry, Scully flung herself against the barrier that
Molly had erected to keep her submerged and she used every ounce of her
strength and determination to batter her way to the surface. She felt
the other woman's surprise and she used that waver in Molly's
concentration to tear herself free of the ghost's control.
"Will!" Wild-eyed, she reached out a trembling hand to touch her
child. The baby's shrieks quieted to a hiccupping sniffle under the
familiar feel of his mother's fingers threading through his hair and he
stared at her with tear-drenched eyes from the safety of his father's
arms.
Scully lifted the now willing baby into her arms and he immediately
latched onto her breast. Her arms tightened protectively around him
and she raised her head from her study of the small boy to look up into
his father's frightened and confused eyes.
"Scu... Scully?" Mulder lifted a tentative hand toward her and she
nodded, nestling her face tiredly against his warm palm. Her skull
ached horribly. She could hear Molly's shrieks of frustrated anger in
her head; could feel her clawing her way back to the surface with every
beat of her heart.
"God... Mulder," she breathed. "She's so strong." Scully's voice was
a hoarse whisper. Her attention was divided between the man who was
kneeling on the floor before her, the child suckling at her breast and
her struggle to fend off Molly's attempts to regain control.
"You can feel her?" Mulder asked. Scully nodded. Her body was covered
with a fine film of sweat and her breath escaped her in short, sharp
bursts. Her heart was pounding with the effort of holding the other
woman at bay. Despite her exertion, her limbs were trembling and her
teeth were chattering with a coldness coming from deep within her body.
Mulder stripped out of his denim shirt and wrapped the warm, heavy
cotton around her shoulders. "You've got to stay with me now, Scully,"
he pleaded. Scully shook her head and lowered her eyes back to the
baby in her arms. He was still nursing hungrily; his tiny fists were
kneading the plump flesh of her breast and her milk trickled over his
chin and pudgy cheeks as he greedily drew on her nipple.
Her poor baby. He was so hungry... she had to hold on long enough to
finish feeding him.
"I don't know how long I can hold her off," Scully told Mulder. She
leaned against him in quiet exhaustion, trying to draw strength from
the warmth of his arms and the brush of his lips against her hair.
"She's... Mulder, she's convinced that you are her William come back
for her. And she thinks that Will is their baby." Scully sighed and
rested her cheek against his chest. She closed her eyes tiredly,
losing herself in his familiar scent and her concentration wavered for
a moment as sleep beckoned.
Mulder's breath caught in his throat when he felt Scully's hand creep
between their bodies to fondle him through the heavy material of his
jeans. His body stirred under her caressing fingers and he pulled his
head back to look down into her face. Scully's eyes were open and
dilated and there was an oddly dreamy look in them. Will whimpered.
His lips were still suctioned around her nipple, but his mouth had
stopped its rhythmic pulling on her breast.
Scully felt Mulder's hands tighten on her shoulders and she blinked and
shook her head to clear it, surprised to find her hand cupping his
surging flesh. She gathered all of her energy and sent one silent
shrieking 'no' into the space between her soul and Molly's - once again
succeeding in pushing the ghost away. She could feel the other woman
scratching and clawing at her consciousness, scrabbling for an entry
point.
Dazedly she looked around the dimly-lit room. "Mulder, what time is
it?" Mulder drew in a shuddering breath and willed himself to ignore
the reluctant arousal coaxed by her wandering hands. He glanced at the
watch strapped to his wrist.
"It's a little after four o'clock," he told her and shot a look towards
the windows. "There's a storm brewing outside, so it seems later." As
if he had carefully arranged it, the sky lit up with a jagged bolt of
lightning and a few seconds later a low peal of thunder rolled through
the countryside.
"You were gone a long time," she murmured. "No wonder he's so hungry."
She took a deep breath. "Mulder... she's been so sad. All of these
years she's been waiting here for him." Scully shook her head and
knuckled away a stray tear as the devastation of Molly's enforced
loneliness washed over her.
"Can you hear her?" Mulder's sharp question startled Scully out of her
sad reverie. She closed her eyes and 'listened'. A tiny crease formed
between her brows and when her lashes fluttered open, Mulder was
heartened to see the familiar light of discovery and curiosity in her
blue eyes. He cocked his head to the side and looked at her
questioningly.
"Well?"
She bit her lip and squeezed her eyes closed again. "No," she said
finally. "It's not... I can't hear her the way I hear you, but I can
feel her... sense her. I know what she wants." Scully opened her eyes
and stared across the room at her reflection in the mirror. She felt
Mulder shift so that he was sitting behind her and she watched his arms
wind around her and Will to cradle them protectively in his embrace.
"She wants you. She wants you both."
Mulder cast his eyes about the room, desperately searching for
something... anything that would help them. He dropped his chin onto
her shoulder and nuzzled her neck, inhaling the familiar, clean
fragrance that was Scully. Will's belly was finally full and he was no
longer nursing with the same ferocious concentration as before. Ready
to play, he craned his neck against Scully's arm and offered his father
a gummy grin before flinging his head back to latch onto his mother's
breast and lazily suckle once or twice. He caught the toes of one foot
with his fingers and gurgled cheerfully as he pulled them toward his
head, obviously intent on having a toe or two in his mouth. Scully's
eyes were fixated on her son's antics. She cooed and murmured to the
little boy and was rewarded with a giggling baby laugh. Her lips
curved up in response to Will's giggles but Mulder could see the
exhaustion that sapped her posture of its natural grace.
Scully watched in confusion as Mulder slipped away from her and quickly
walked across the room to the bureau. He yanked open one of the
drawers and began to pull out her clothes and stack them on top of the
bureau.
"Mulder."
The muscles under the bare skin of his back were drawn tight with
tension. He continued emptying the drawers and she called him again,
her voice soft and pleading.
"Mulder."
He turned and she saw the barely leashed fury in his eyes and in his
movements as he clutched a bundle of her clothing against his chest.
He looked around and gave a satisfied grunt when he spotted her
suitcase on a luggage rack in one corner of the room.
"Mulder! What are you doing?" He shoved the garments violently into
the suitcase and stalked back to the bureau for another armful.
"We're leaving." Grim determination shaded his voice.
"No."
Mulder's head snapped up in disbelief. He narrowed his eyes and
studiously ignored her as he made a return journey to stuff more
clothes into the suitcase.
"Mulder." Scully slid from the bed and walked over to where he stood.
She laid her palm against his back, enjoying the warm, silken skin
beneath her fingers. "We can't leave."
Mulder whirled and grabbed her by the upper arm. "Yes! We can. We
are." His grip tightened painfully around her arm. "We're leaving,
now... and we're never coming back here."
"Mulder... please, you're hurting me." Instantly, his grip eased and
his fingers danced apologetically over her arm. She cupped his cheek
in her hand and forced him to look at her.
"We can't leave. Don't you know? She's inside of me." Her eyes
searched his for understanding. "I don't know why she's still there...
and I don't know how she's holding on... What I do know is that if we
leave, she'll come with us."
Mulder hissed in frustrated confusion. "Maybe if we put some distance
between us and this place, her grip will weaken. You said yourself
that she's been waiting here all of this time for William to return.
Maybe... don't you think that she would refuse to leave this place?
The place where William will come looking for her? If we leave... if
we just get into the car and drive away, doesn't it make sense that she
would let go of you so that she could stay and be here when he
returns?"
Scully smiled sadly into his hopeful face. "Mulder, you said it
yourself, just this morning... to Molly, you ARE William. She'll
follow you wherever you go."
Mulder stifled a scream of rage and vented his fury on the suitcase,
shoving it from the luggage rack to the floor and stomping it with a
booted foot. Will watched wide-eyed as his father mauled the suitcase
and Scully smoothed her hand soothingly over the baby's head as she
waited for the storm to pass. Her patience was rewarded a moment later
as Mulder quieted, his shoulders slumping in defeat.
"Mulder, look at me." She curled her fingers over his hand where it
hung fisted at his side. "I need your help... we need to figure a way
out of this." Mulder nodded and led her back to the bed, once again
kneeling on the floor near her feet.
"Did you eat anything today?" He worried that a lack of appetite and
sleep would deplete her ability to keep fending off Molly. Scully
shrugged and Mulder began to climb to his feet, intent on raiding the
kitchen.
"No!" Her nails dug into his jeans and he obediently sank back to his
knees before her. "Don't leave."
Mulder's arms slipped about her and he burrowed his face into the loose
folds of the shirt she was wearing to nuzzle the downy skin of her
stomach. His lips caressed the tiny swell below her navel that was a
lasting legacy of her pregnancy and, he had to admit, one of his
favorite places on her body to explore.
Scully juggled Will in her arms and propped him on one of her thighs.
The baby promptly tangled his fingers in Mulder's hair and he gave a
hearty tug, earning a yelping cry and an exaggerated pout from his
father. The baby giggled and tugged again. Mulder gingerly pried
Will's hand from his hair and as he pressed a kiss to the baby's chubby
thigh, he felt Scully's fingers sift comfortingly through his hair.
"What I can't figure out is why... after more than two hundred years,
Molly has fixated on you," Scully said quietly. "At first, I thought
it was because of Will... but surely there have been other couples with
young children who have stayed in the inn over the years."
Mulder shifted until he was seated on the floor between Scully's legs
and curled a hand around Scully's ankle. His thumb dipped into the
hollow behind the knot of her anklebone and his fingers feathered over
the network of veins that ran across her instep. In a halting voice,
he told her of the charcoal portrait Molly had sketched of William
Foxworth.
"It... he looks just like I did when I was in my twenties," Mulder
admitted. "We could be twins." Left unspoken was the niggling
question of whether or not Molly could be right; that he could possibly
be a descendent of William - or worse, Foxworth reincarnated... Mulder
left the thought unvoiced because he refused to give it credence. As
easy as it would be to accept that his physical responses to Molly were
due to a repressed memory of a former life, the truth was that in this
life, he belonged with Scully. Belonged with her and to her. She
owned him, heart, mind, body and soul and he had willingly and joyfully
given himself to her. He scooted closer to her and inhaled deeply;
once again filling his lungs with Scully's fresh, clean scent. He
compared her scent - so familiar and arousing - to the fragrance of
lilacs that marked Molly's presence. Mulder knew that memories were
closely linked with the sense of smell and he took comfort in the
knowledge that the fragrance of lilacs stirred no long hidden memories
of a time when he had loved another woman.
He looked up into Scully's beloved face and returned the quiet smile
she directed toward him. "Okay. Let's go through this from the
beginning. How do you think that Molly is able to po... possess you?"
He stumbled over the word and its ugly connotations.
Scully pressed her lips to the top of Will's head and leaned down so
that her face was close to Mulder's. She lowered her voice, as if
trying to keep Molly from hearing her words.
"I don't know, Mulder. I can't remember, because I think I've always
been asleep..." Her voice trailed off and her mouth opened on a
startled gasp.
Mulder's eyes widened. "That's it!" His fingers tightened around her
ankle. "Scully!" He rose up and pressed a smacking kiss on her lips.
"That's it exactly!" His mind feverishly raced over the moments he now
recognized as being the times when Molly had invaded Scully's body.
Will yawned loudly and sagged in Scully's embrace. Mulder reached out
and lifted the baby from her arms. He rose to his feet, intent on
carrying him into the other room, but Scully laid a staying hand on his
arm.
"I want to keep him nearby." Her eyes were fixed on her child and
Mulder nodded at the possessive look in her eyes. He recognized her
need to keep the baby close and set Will in the center of the bed,
mounding pillows around him to keep him from rolling off. Once the
baby was settled, he drew Scully to her feet and led her across the
room. He sat on the loveseat near the fireplace and pulled her onto
his lap.
"I think you're right." He voice was pitched low so as not to disturb
the sleeping baby. "I think you've been asleep every time." She
nodded and leaned her head on his shoulder, listening to the low rumble
of his voice. "But you're awake now, so..."
"So, why isn't Molly gone?" Scully finished his thought. He nodded.
She tipped her head back against his shoulder and looked up at him. "I
don't know, Mulder. I just know that she's still there." And she was.
Even now, Scully could sense Molly scrambling for a foothold; looking
for a way to regain control.
"Well," Mulder sighed. "It's simple. You just can't ever go to sleep."
Scully chuffed softly. "No problem." But it was, and they both knew
it. She pressed her hands against his shoulders, pushing away from the
warm comfort of his arms.
"Mulder... what are we going to do?" Her worried eyes met his.
"You're absolutely right... I can't fall asleep. I... I think she's
just getting stronger and stronger. I was never aware of her before,
but now, even though I'm awake, I can feel her. If she gets back in
control, I don't know... I'm afraid I won't be able..."
Mulder lifted Scully from his lap and stood, tugging her into his
embrace. Hugging her close, he rocked her from side to side. "Then
we'll just have to keep you awake until we come up with a solution."
*************
Scully's eyes burned with fatigue. Her nerves were jangling from the
four cups of coffee that Mulder had poured down her throat. As they
formulated and rejected one plan after another, Mulder had led her
around and around the room. With each passing hour, she was leaning
more and more heavily on him, relying on him to keep her on her feet as
she stumbled along beside him.
To make matters worse, Will was awake - grinding his tiny fists against
his raw gums and whimpering pitifully. Scully's hands shook as she dug
through the diaper bag for the Anbesol. Mulder took the tube of
medicine from her and she sank down onto the loveseat they had
abandoned several hours earlier. Tired. She was so tired. Will's
cries were becoming softer and she was sinking... drifting...
"Scully!" Mulder. She could hear his voice calling her name but it
was fuzzy and distant. She wanted to sleep. Just a few moments of
blessed sleep...
A strong arm curled around her waist and hauled her out of the chair.
"Scully!" His voice was commanding and reluctantly, she concentrated
on dragging her eyes open.
"Come on, Scully. Don't give up on me now." Mulder tamped down on the
panic rising in his throat and he shook the woman in his arms.
"Damnit, Scully!" He smiled when he saw the blue of her eyes peering
at him from beneath heavy lashes. "That's it, baby. Open your eyes,
now. Please."
Dark shadows bruised the delicate skin under her eyes and her hair was
a wild tangle around her face. They were losing this fight. Every
time Scully blinked her eyes, he could feel Molly closing in, winning
the battle for control. Desperate, Mulder lifted Will from the bed and
shoved him into his mother's arms, counting on Scully not to relinquish
control of her body to the other woman, while holding her son.
"We're getting out of here, Scully!" Her head felt so heavy, but she
forced herself to look up at him as he grabbed a pair of her jeans out
of the half-packed suitcase. She shook her head in confusion as he
knelt before her to guide her legs into the pants and slip a pair of
sneakers onto her feet. She held the baby as Mulder zipped Will into
his little jacket and tugged a T-shirt over his own head before shoving
his arms into his leather coat and checked for his car keys. Grabbing
the quilt from the bed, he wrapped it around Scully and took Will from
her. He coiled his free arm firmly around her waist and led his family
from the inn.
Outside, Scully leaned against the SUV as Mulder secured Will into his
car seat. The cold night air helped to revive her a bit. Mulder
straightened and turned to find her clear-eyed for the first time in
hours.
"Where are we going?" Scully's eyes searched his for answers. He
cupped her face between his palms and she stretched up on her toes to
meet his descending mouth. Mulder's lips brushed over hers once,
twice. When he answered her, his voice was grim.
"We're going to Philadelphia."
************
Chapter Seven
Route 30
Pennsylvania
The roads were damned slick, Mulder thought, as he eased his foot from
the gas pedal yet again. He was fighting the urge to speed, knowing a
traffic ticket was the last thing he needed. But at least the storm
had abated some and the pouring rain had lessened to a light sprinkle.
They'd been driving about forty-five minutes and were ten miles from
Coatesville and the exit for Route 202. For this time of night traffic
was fairly heavy and several times he'd had to slow down to less than
fifty miles an hour on Route 30, which would take them into
Coatesville.
Beside him Scully alternated between staring out the window and keeping
a worried eye on their son, who dozed in the back seat with three
fingers in his mouth. So far, Will's teething troubles seemed to be
submerged under his more pressing need for sleep - but Mulder knew he'd
have to be nursed, soon. He didn't want to pull over, didn't want to
stop for anything. The rising panic within him had calmed very little
since leaving the Millcreek Inn and he just wanted to get to
Philadelphia and hopefully, some answers.
He'd been desperate to keep Scully awake and aware enough to stymie
Molly's ceaseless attempts to gain control. Knowing his woman
thoroughly also meant knowing what the motion of a vehicle would do to
her when she was exhausted; she'd be out like a light regardless of the
amount of caffeine she'd consumed earlier. And so, Mulder had kept up
a running conversation that forced her to reciprocate... because he
persisted in reminiscing about past case files and what he remembered
was consistently 'sexual' in nature...
"Hey, Scully... tell me the truth. That nasty green gunk you slathered
all over your face in 'Suburbia' was just a ruse, wasn't it? The
thought of us snuggled in a three-bedroom two bath scared the shit
outta you."
"No, Mulder - what scared the shit out of me was that whole baby
kittens thing..."
He grinned in the darkness. "You never wanted to make like a baby
kitten, and push up against my ass? Jeez, Scully - that was always a
fond dream of mine..."
A tired snort, "THAT was a fond dream of yours? I have to say that I
always thought your... dreams would be a little more complex than
spooning in bed. I know mine were..."
That perked him up. "Well, there's dreams, baby - and then there's
fantasy. I dreamed of spooning, but I fantasized about stripping those
cute little Laura Pee-Tree duds off your body and licking every inch of
it, back to front - with or without green face-gunk. I kept wondering
if the gunk tasted like kiwi..."
"Mulder! Well - you should have tried harder. I've got a little
secret for you... I wasn't wearing anything under Laura's robe."
Even from the distance across the interior of the SUV, he swore he
could feel the heat that had to be flushing her cheeks. He moaned,
"Oh, Christ... now you tell me. You have any idea how hard it was for
me to get off that bed, and walk out the door - that night? Everything
I wanted was in that room. Soft lights and a comfortable bed, a sweet-
smelling woman wearing a huge old fluffy bathrobe with her hair pulled
back off her face, in this large white... thing. Green glop covering
every kissable inch of that exposed face... man. I wanted nothing
better than to dive right in and come up with a mouthful of green. I
tossed and turned all night, imagining the possibilities, extreme
though they were..."
She sighed. "All you had to do was ask... nicely."
"Well, I'll remember that, next time you come to bed all gunked up. And
another thing, baby... you never thanked me for setting you up on that
blind date with Sheriff Fartwell..."
That earned him another snort. "Sheriff HART-well, Mulder."
A surprised exclamation, "You know, he said the same thing! When I
talked to him that night - he corrected my pronunciation. But as I
told him - regretfully, I might add - that night... he'll always be
Fart-Well to me." Her reluctant participation in his goofy banter was
such a relief...
Her next words made him even happier. "Thank you, Mulder - for setting
me up on a lovely blind date with a blood-sucking vampire."
"Why, you're welcome, Scully. I knew I was doing you a real favor -
after all, I'd always suspected you had a very sensitive... neck... and
I figured with my small, perfect teeth I wouldn't be able to do much
for you. But, Fartwell and his large buckys... well, shiver me
timbers, y'know?" He waited for a snappy comeback.
"Mulder?"
"What, baby?"
Her voice was sleepy - too sleepy. "I'm so tired. I don't want to do
this anymore. I just... I just want to close my eyes... just for a
second..."
He panicked. "NO! Scully, come on! This is fun, don't you think?
When was the last time we had a chance to talk over old times, huh?"
Mulder gripped the wheel so hard the ridges cut into his palms. He
blurted, "Come on, play with me. Tell you what: ask me anything,
about any of our past cases. Anything at all. I'll tell you something
about my thoughts, an observation I never thought to share with you at
the time. Okay?"
She sighed with such exhaustion that for one moment he thought she
would refuse, but she straightened in her seat, and he released a huge
breath of thankful relief when she murmured, "Oookay... remember that
trip to Florida for the team building seminar?"
Thank you, God - she's willing to hang on... "Well, of course! A man
always remembers the first time his woman sings to him."
This time she gave him an actual snicker. "Shut up, Mulder..."
He loved her so much in that instant - she was fighting, his Scully was
not a quitter - "Ooo, I sense frustration. Come on, get past it,
Scully - you brought up that trip for a reason. What do you want to
know? You can ask me anything, remember?"
She swallowed hard. "When... when I came into your motel room with a
platter of wine and cheese... you knew I was trying to put the moves on
you, didn't you?"
Oh, Scully... "Well... I think I was hoping. But I don't recall
thinking 'moves' so much as your natural inclination to make me feel at
home in a motel room, baby. You have a real talent for it."
"So, then... why did you run out of the room? I'm not angry...
actually, in hindsight, I'm glad that our first time wasn't in some
dumpy motel room. Still, I've always wondered if maybe I wasn't
sending out the right signal..."
He groaned. "God, baby... any right-er a signal and I would have flung
that tray of Bacchus into a corner of the room and pinned you down
underneath me so fast your signals would have spun! But, if you want
the truth... I was scared shitless in that moment. Not of you. Well,
maybe a little... mostly I was afraid of me. Of how needy I was."
She reached over and clasped at the hand closest to her, resting on the
wheel. "I was afraid too. S'okay, Mulder... I just... I always
wanted.... mmmm, it's warm in here. Isn't it, warm? To-asty warrrmmm.
Mmmmm..."
SHIT...! "I'll open a window, I'm opening your window, baby - NO!
Don't close it, leave it open, doesn't that feel good on your face,
hmmm? Leave it, Scully - Will's fine, he won't get cold. Listen to
me, listen - I'm glad you were scared too, Scully - I'm glad we didn't
do it then. You wanna know another time I was glad we didn't do it?
That Christmas Eve, you remember? The Christmas we played in the
haunted house -"
"Stop snapping your fingers in my face, Mulder! And I wouldn't call it
'playing'!!"
He reclaimed her hand, squeezing it gently. "Sure it was, just
playing. You mean you thought for a second that we were in any real
danger, other than from each other? No way, Scully. Maybe we were
creeped out from having to deal with Maurice and Lyda, the Ghost-ests
With The Most-ests... but I never for a moment believed we'd ever
really hurt each other. Besides, there was this gift with your name on
it... and I sure didn't want one of my fish to have to open it!"
Another yawning snicker. "This gift you mention... was it the one so
*expertly* wrapped in that festive paper... or was it wrapped in a
white T-shirt, jeans and boots?"
He could have bawled in sheer relief. "Baby, what do YOU think? Given
a choice between some inanimate thing wrapped in holiday cheer... and a
very warm, VERY animate animal wrapped in special holiday 'cheer'...
which would YOU have unwrapped?"
Scully shrugged helplessly. "I don't know, Mulder... you just finished
saying that you were glad we didn't, I believe the expression you used
was -'do it' that night... and at the time I didn't realize that the
gift you were giving me was a tube of day-of-the-week underwear so, I
probably would have gone for the long, tube-shaped gift."
Her mild sarcasm had him grinning like a fool. "Man, am I glad you
said that! Because there has always been a HUGE gap between what I
wanted to do with you... and what we ended up doing, for real. Just
knowing you wanted to, that far back... makes me feel warm - all over -
guess it's a good thing I opened our windows, right?"
No answer.
"Scully... I said, 'right'?" A worried glance in her direction
revealed the worst; her head was reclined against the seat. He almost
shouted at her, "Baby, don't close your eyes! Tell me what an idiot I
am, call me a moron! Come on, I know you want to... Scully?"
"I'm awake, Jesus, Mulder! You don't have to yell! And yes, you're a
moron. But I adore you anyway." Scully sat up and softened her sharp
words by leaning in and brushing a kiss on his right shoulder. Smiling
affectionately at him, she resumed her seat and raised her arms above
her head, stretching.
Mulder's silliness went a long way toward making her feel better; at
least she was more alert. Yet she knew it was only a temporary
reprieve. She was stronger but she could still sense her adversary
just under the surface, waiting for a way out, watching for an
opening...
'Adversary' didn't begin to cover the resentment and anger Molly
Sullivan was experiencing, as she simmered within this living woman who
had the sort of hold on her beloved William that she could barely
comprehend. There was a connection between him and the woman - a
thread of personal knowledge that went far beyond just the reading of
his needs and desires. And Molly didn't like it, not one bit.
She'd lived her short amount of years on earth as a woman whose only
professional position had been to provide the ease of a man's lust and
a receptacle for his seed. She'd done what she had to, found a way to
survive, had performed her duties for the sole purpose of saving every
penny and finding for herself a better life. But she'd stopped her
enforced profession the night she fell in love with William Foxworth,
and she'd sacrificed her life attempting to honor her new way of life.
She would do it again in a heartbeat... would never have let another
man touch her, after William pressed that final passionate kiss upon
her lips and had ridden off, his shouts proclaiming his love for her
proudly, for all to hear.
Maybe she'd never had the advantage of a fancy education or the love of
a family, as she was sure this woman had enjoyed... maybe she hadn't
lived long enough in the world to understand all the ways of making a
man happy. But what little she'd learned, Molly had absorbed very well
- and if she could just get control again, just gain the upper hand...
William could be hers. He would not be able to resist her - or deny
her. Molly redoubled her efforts to wrest away the blockage in her
path, using her jealousy and fury to fuel her strength...
Scully could feel the wave flowing through her, that same numbing
effect from the other night, same overwhelming fear of losing herself.
And she was losing; there was no doubt in her mind. Suddenly all her
newfound strength seemed to ebb right out of her in a rush, leaving her
shaken. She whispered brokenly, "Mulder, I'm so tired. I can't think
anymore; my brain is fried. Can't we just travel in silence for a
bit?"
The exhaustion in her voice tore at him but he couldn't let her slip,
not the tiniest bit. He glanced at her and his heart sank - for even
in the dark of the car he could see the slump of her shoulders.
Reaching out a hand he tugged hard on her arm, startling her out of her
almost catatonic state. "Scully! Come on. Don't you dare fall
asleep, not now. Talk to me. Anything. Whatever the subject, it
doesn't matter. Just talk. You've got to stay awake and I can't take
my eyes off this road; we're getting close to the exit for 202 and I
have to concentrate. Please, baby - don't let her get hold of you..."
Beside him Scully shook her head hard, raked the hair out of her eyes,
actually slapped at her own cheeks. She sat up straighter in the seat
and after turning around once to assure herself that Will was still
asleep, she propped her back against the passenger door and fixed her
attention on Mulder. So tired... and yet reinvested - determined.
This spirit was not going to take control again...
"Mulder, did I ever tell you about the very first time I had to defend
you against the wrath of Bill?"
Mulder shot her a surprised sideways glance but shook his head, a smile
playing about the corners of his mouth as he digested her query. "No,
Scully - I don't believe you ever did. Why don't you tell me all about
it."
With a weary yet optimistic chuckle Scully tucked a foot underneath her
and her soft voice filled the darkened cab. "Well, it was before he
visited me in the hospital, that first time - I think Mom had maybe
said something to him over the phone one day, out of the blue. I think
she always knew right from the start I'd follow you anywhere..."
Her soft voice sifted over him like a balm and he smiled and nodded and
let himself banter with her, as the story unfolded.
An hour later they hit Philadelphia proper and were maneuvering through
more heavy traffic. Their time had been spent talking almost non-stop,
with both of them taking turns contributing to a verbal potpourri of
confidences, confessions and assorted tale telling. It had served to
take Mulder's mind off the seriousness of their predicament and it had
done an admirable job in keeping Scully awake and in control.
But as they'd gotten closer to the city their conversation had waned,
each knowing the reality of their danger couldn't be put off any
longer. This was not a crazed serial killer or an unexplainable
monster that'd popped up from God knows where, to wreak havoc on an
unsuspecting world. They knew how to handle those sorts of menaces...
This was the ghost of a young woman who had lost so much it was just
about impossible to fathom. Who had gone through generations and
hundreds of years in total spiritual upheaval and unrest. Neither of
them could pretend to understand something that ethereal, that
otherworldly.
And she was growing stronger; at one point in a conversational lull
Mulder had stretched out his free hand and pressed it warmly over
Scully's knee, and as she'd twined her fingers through his he'd asked
her, "Can you... do you still..." He took a deep breath. "Is she
still there, Scully?" His eyes met hers and even in the dark she could
see the worry in them.
She nodded. "She's there, Mulder. It's so hard... I'm beyond
tired..."
Mulder expelled a frustrated huff; they were stuck at an intersection
with malfunctioning traffic lights and three lanes of cars on each side
were trying to take turns zipping through it. There were at least four
cars in front of them. He was more in a hurry than ever; underneath
his hand her knee was tense and hard with anxiety, with trying to hold
herself tightly together. Her voice was thin with weariness and tinged
with the sort of despair he never dreamed he'd ever hear from her.
He couldn't stand it. He WOULDN'T stand it... Mulder gripped her leg,
hard, forcing a gasp from her as he grated out, "You're NOT going to
give it up, Scully. Do you understand? I won't lose you to some
senseless eighteenth century crime! I feel sympathy for Molly; I do.
It's a terrible thing that her life was snuffed out at so young an
age." The red taillights of the car ahead of them shone into the
windshield, giving Mulder's face an eerie glow as he added, "But she's
gone. She's been gone for hundreds of years. And if by some miracle
she lived in this age I'd still belong to you - I wouldn't be available
to be with her. So you goddamn FIGHT her, Scully! I don't care about
anything but you and Will, please baby... fight her."
Scully nodded, eyes filled with tears of exhaustion, as she clasped
Mulder's hand, still cupped over her knee. And beneath the surface of
her consciousness there was an angry scrabbling, a fury... she could
feel it.
Ten minutes later they finally got through the jammed intersection,
with Mulder sighing in relief as he drove through the less-populated
streets toward Germantown. Next to him Scully gripped his hand and
stared out the window; behind them Will snuffled in his sleep. And
somewhere deep inside the quiet and weary red-haired woman who sat in
the passenger seat, a furiously jealous Molly Sullivan was feeding her
anger on the words she'd managed to sense, coming from her beloved
William... knowing as surely as anything that his feelings had to be
colored by the woman who held him captive. It wasn't his fault... it
was hers.
Molly tried harder than ever, to regain control.
Scully's eyes were screwed shut tightly, squeezing the tears out from
beneath wet lashes as she sent a silent shriek of her own down into
that black hole within her, a shriek to go away and stay away... She
drew in a deep breath, preparing to take a final stand against Molly.
This was it. Scully had to fight her off now - right now - or risk the
chance of losing to her forever.
<Go away! Get out. No one wants you here. They're mine!> she thought
fiercely. <My lover. My baby. Now go!> She gathered up all of her
fear and anger and flung it toward Molly with every remaining ounce of
her strength. All of her thoughts were turned inward as she struggled
in this last skirmish to fend off Molly. Silently, she and Molly
fought and grappled for control...
They were just turning from Johnson Street, within a few miles of
Germantown Avenue, when Mulder realized the woman sitting next to him
wasn't Scully.
He'd been quietly confident that she'd been holding her own. Stupidly
confidant, no doubt - sure in the belief that only if Scully fell
asleep Molly could gain a foothold. Jesus, he should have known
better -
For the last ten miles Scully had been half-turned in her seat, staring
at him. Relaxed, occasionally looking all around, at the dashboard
lights and out the front and side windows - but mostly her attention
was trained on him. A first he found it sweet and he'd sent her a
delighted smile from time to time, eliciting an answering grin from
her.
When after miles of driving her focus remained on him, only an
occasional murmur from her throat in answer to his remarks - and she
never once checked the back seat and Will, who was beginning to awaken
and fuss, obviously hungry and perhaps in pain from teething... Mulder
found himself slowing down more than he needed to, as he took the
corner into Cliveden Street. Found himself turning to look at her as
his ears caught the sound of Will's increasing distress - consequently
not watching the street and the traffic -
As Molly purred out a longing-filled, "William... my beloved," and her
hand reached into his lap and clutched the crotch of his jeans. The
shock of it startled Mulder just enough - in reaction his hands left
the wheel as he grasped at her hand, trying to dislodge her fingers,
that move allowing the steering column to slip, just enough - and his
foot reacted to the hard pump her fingers managed to accomplish, the
sole of his boot pushing down on the gas pedal, just enough.
The SUV careened sideways, spinning on the slick, rain-wet street. In
a second of complete loss of control, it leapt the curb and bridged the
driveway of a large estate, coming to a shuddering stop up against the
cast-iron fence surrounding the property.
Inside the cab Mulder had been flung into the steering column, and
Scully, who in turn had suffered a stunning blow to her right temple,
had slumped against the passenger window. In the back seat Will had
been held securely in his car seat but was screaming in terror.
Dazedly Mulder registered the utter fright of his child and after one
quick glance at Scully to assure she could hold her own for a few
minutes, he wrenched open the door and dragged himself out. He yanked
at the back door, desperate to get to Will.
He managed to unbuckle the safety straps, thanking God they'd bought
the highest-rated car seat they could find. Will's chubby face was
soaked with tears and he was hysterical, hiccupping with the force of
his distress. Mulder lifted him out and cradled him tightly, rocking
him from side to side and trying to soothe him with soft sounds issued
from a raw throat. Will buried his face in his father's neck and
sobbed.
With the distraught child in his arms Mulder moved quickly around the
back of the SUV, reaching the passenger side, pulling hard at the door.
It opened and Scully slid sideways and spilled out of the front seat,
barely conscious and limp. Mulder caught her with his free arm and
eased them to the wet ground, keeping them in his embrace.
Will continued to cry loudly as Mulder begged, "Scully, come on, baby -
open your eyes. I need you to wake up now, please, baby, please..."
He almost sobbed in relief himself when Scully raised her head a little
and one weak hand fluttered to her head, gingerly touching the bruised
know on her temple, fingers coming away smeared with blood. Her dazed
eyes stared at the stained fingers, then swung to Mulder's worried
face. Her lips parted and in a shaky, thin voice she rasped, "Mulder,
what happened? Will? Is he hurt?"
*************
Chapter 8
Cliveden -
Site of the Battle of Germantown
Philadelphia, Pennsylvania
Scully gathered a shrieking Will from Mulder's arms and cuddled him
close. He was still hiccupping with every breath that shuddered out of
his sturdy, little body and he was burrowing against the heavy denim
shirt she wore. Scully unbuttoned the first three buttons of the shirt
and Will quieted against her breast as he sought comfort more than
nourishment.
Her thumb stroked over the baby's blotchy cheek. She shivered and
pressed herself tightly against Mulder's side. The blanket she had
been wrapped in when they left Lancaster was strewn over the passenger
seat of the Explorer. Mulder wrapped his arms tightly around her and
he willed his pounding heart to slow to a more normal beat.
"Where are we?" Scully squinted through the darkness at the mansion
rising up in the middle of the property - a sentinel of gray stone and
white shutters.
"This is Cliveden," Mulder whispered. "This is where the Battle of
Germantown was fought." Scully's brow furrowed in obvious confusion.
"This is where William died," Mulder explained. Scully stared
unseeingly at the house. He saw her lips moving, but he couldn't make
out what she was saying. Mulder jumped in shock when a low, guttural
shriek was torn from Scully's throat.
"Liar!" She scrambled to her feet, nearly dislodging a now-sleeping
Will from her breast. "YOU are William! Why are you lying to me?"
Molly.
Mulder hung his head in despair for a moment and then stood. He
cautiously reached out and lifted the baby from her unresisting arms.
Turning to the Explorer, he eased Will back into his car seat and
secured the safety harness over his tiny chest. The baby whimpered
once or twice but settled under the soothing caress of his father's
hand.
Once he was sure that Will was drifting off to sleep, Mulder turned his
attention back to the woman who was staring at him with tear-drenched,
accusing, blue eyes. He had no idea what had pushed him to make the
long drive from Lancaster to Philadelphia; had no idea what he was
hoping to find now that they had arrived... he simply knew that he had
to do something. Anything.
Here, on the site where two armies had converged in a bitter battle
between domination and liberty, another smaller war would be waged. He
realized that he had brought them to this place in the hopes that he
could prove - finally prove to Molly that he was not the lover lost to
her so long ago. Hoping to find a marker or a record that would
confirm the fact that more than two hundred years earlier, the man she
loved had fallen on these fields. Praying that if he managed to
convince her... she would set Scully free.
"Molly, listen to me." He held out a pleading hand. "I'm not
William." Molly stepped closer, curling her fingers around the back of
his neck and pressing her breasts against the white cotton covering his
hard chest.
She looked up at him through the veil of her lashes. "How can you say
that? Do you think I wouldn't know you?" she murmured. Her lips
feathered over his and she brushed her hips against the erection
swelling beneath his jeans. She lowered her face to hide the
triumphant smile that curved her lips.
"See... you DO remember me," she whispered. Mulder clasped his fingers
around her wrist and pulled her hand from his neck. He wrenched his
body from hers and pushed her firmly away.
"Molly..." It was difficult to concentrate when his body was throbbing
for release; his mind saturated with guilt from his unwilling response
to the woman standing before him. She looked at him with wide,
uncomprehending eyes... tear-drenched eyes so familiar to him. He was
nearly overwhelmed by his need to pull her into his arms and comfort
her.
"Molly, if I truly was William... don't you think I'd want to be with
you? Why would I lie?" Bewilderment registered in Scully's eyes...
no, in Molly's eyes. Mulder wiped his hands over his face in anguish.
She was his beautiful Scully... and yet she wasn't. The woman he loved
was locked inside, fighting desperately to find her way out. He would
fight equally hard to get her back.
Molly looked at him through narrowed eyes. "You might lie," she said
slowly. "This woman," she swept a hand over the body she inhabited,
"this woman has bewitched you."
Mulder cast his eyes helplessly around him. With the cessation of the
rain, a low fog was rolling over the grounds surrounding the eighteenth
century mansion. In the distance he could hear a church's bell tolling
the hour.
Midnight.
As the last chime pealed in the still, night air, Mulder's tired brain
tried to make sense of what he was seeing. He rubbed the heels of his
hands against his eyes and blinked.
Emerging from the trees at the edges of the estate, they began to
appear. British and American... men who had died in mortal combat at
one another's hands, now they wandered through the mist that hugged the
rain-drenched grass - bound for eternity to this place where they had
fallen; bound for eternity to each other.
"Oh my God," he breathed. "Scully... are you seeing this?" Spellbound
by the ethereal images slipping out of their hiding places, Mulder
automatically reached for her hand. Excitement and a niggling of fear
warred for supremacy inside of him. Stunned amazement had him
forgetting, for the most brief of moments, the dire circumstances that
had led them to this place. Suppressed exhilaration made him want to
share this discovery with his partner.
Until a tiny gasp came from the woman standing beside him. She tugged
sharply until her hand slipped free of his.
"William," she whispered. She took several halting, stumbling steps
towards the mansion. Mulder chased after her and locked his fingers
around her wrist, manacling her to his side. He had to stay close to
the car where William slept, peacefully unaware of the drama unfolding
all around him. Neither would Mulder allow Molly to take Scully out of
his reach.
Molly slapped at the hands imprisoning her, twisting and struggling to
gain her freedom.
"It's William," she panted. Mulder locked his arms around her waist
and held on tightly. "WILLIAM!" she screamed frantically. "WILLIAM!"
Her breasts heaved with the harsh sobs tearing from her chest and she
continued to beat and claw at Mulder's restraining arms, but he stood
firm.
Exhausted, she stopped fighting and slumped forward, gasping for
breath. Her eyes were locked on the ghosts converging on the lawns
surrounding the mansion and she whispered his name again.
"William."
Mulder watched as one ghostly warrior separated himself from the other
men. The man wore the scarlet-lined blue coat and tan breeches of a
Continental soldier. As he drew closer, Mulder could see that his
uniform was covered with soot and dirt and the white vest worn under
the coat was marred with the scarlet bloom of his life's blood. Mulder
felt the shudder that went through the woman in his arms and heard her
quiet, disbelieving moan.
"Oh, no... not my poor William."
The man stopped when he was less than five feet from where they stood
frozen in place and Mulder knew that an identical look of shock and
disbelief was mirrored in his own eyes as he stared at the ghostly,
younger image of himself.
"Who are you?" The man's hand clenched around the hilt of the ornate
saber that hung at his side. His voice held both suspicion and
curiosity. His eyes never left Mulder's face and he showed no
recognition of the red-haired woman, straining against the arms that
held her fast.
"William, don't you know me?" William's eyes darted away from the man
who bore his own image to gaze at the woman who was reaching out to him
beseechingly.
"It's me," she whispered. Tears clogged her throat. "I'm Molly."
William reeled backward and tears filled his eyes at the sound of his
beloved's name crossing this stranger's lips. His saber being drawn
from its sheath was a metallic whoosh of sound - loud and deadly in the
stillness of the brisk, autumn evening.
"You play me false, madam." His eyes flashed with green fire. "I beg
you not to speak her name again. I have never seen you before. I do
not know you." He took another step back, wanting to leave, yet
strangely unable to walk away from her.
Mulder leaned forward and whispered into Molly's ear. "He can't see
you, Molly." Dumbfounded, Molly stared into Mulder's face. In her
frenzy upon seeing William - truly seeing him for the first time since
the day he had ridden away from her - she had forgotten that she
inhabited another's body. Molly relaxed in Mulder's arms, closed her
eyes and willed her spirit to leave Scully's body.
Nothing happened.
Startled, she tried again. And again, she was unable to escape.
Panicked, she whirled around to look up at Mulder.
"I cannot get out!" She sensed William's confusion and saw the rising
anxiety in Mulder's eyes. "I cannot get out," she repeated, her voice
a stunned whisper.
"What are you talking about?" Mulder's voice was low and tinged with
fear. "You've done it before, just... just leave!"
She closed her eyes and bit her lip, concentrating. Struggling to free
herself of the body she was trapped in. And groaned in despair, "She's
gone," she gasped. "Your Scully... I cannot find her."
Mulder shook his head in denial and hauled her up against his chest.
"What do you mean, you can't find her?" He clamped his hands around
her upper arms and shook her. "You're blocking her. Preventing her
from regaining control. Just let her go!" He shook her harder and
auburn curls tumbled over her face.
William took a threatening step forward, angered to see any woman being
roughly handled. He stopped when he heard her whisper.
"No... you don't understand. Always before, I could feel her, hear
her. But now... now I don't feel anything. I'm trapped. I do not
think I can free myself when there is nothing here to take my place."
"NO!!" Frenzied, Mulder threaded his fingers through her hair.
"Scully!" He bent close and pressed his lips to hers. "Scully," he
sobbed. "Oh God!" He pulled her tightly into his arms and ran his
hands over her back, frantically calling her name.
"Scully, please. Baby! Wake up! SCULLLY!!!"
His face blanched at the sudden realization... Oh, Jesus. Oh, God...
the accident. She had hit her head...
No! No, he wouldn't believe it. She wouldn't leave him. Had never
left him.
"Scully." He pressed his lips to her ear and whispered her name over
and over. Pleading. Demanding. Cajoling. Frantically, he looked
into her eyes and saw Molly's equally frantic gaze looking back. She
shook her head and slumped against him in defeat. She threw a mournful
glance filled with tears, over her shoulder toward the place where
William stood, his face awash in bewilderment.
******************
Chapter Nine
Cliveden -
Site of the Battle of Germantown
Philadelphia, Pennsylvania
Molly was startled out of her sad reverie when Mulder began to drag her
across the grass. He stopped near the door of the Explorer and looked
at her with fierce eyes.
"Stay here," he warned in a low, threatening voice. She nodded dumbly,
once again turning toward her beloved William. She held out her hand
and William took two steps closer, inexplicably drawn to this woman
whose face he had never seen before, but in her eyes... oh, in her
eyes... there seemed something so familiar, in those blue eyes -
Molly and William tore their gazes away from each other at the sudden,
loud sobbing coming from behind them. Mulder had reached into the car
and hauled the baby out of his car seat. The abrupt movements woke the
little boy and his sobs were loud and piteous - just as his father had
intended. And Mulder sent out a prayer of forgiveness for frightening
his precious child, but the soul of his mother was at stake.
He cradled the baby to his chest and wrapped his free arm around
Scully's waist. "Scully." He called to her again. "Will needs you."
He bent his knees and peered into her face, looking beyond Molly for
the woman trapped within. "Come on, Scully. Wake up and take care of
your son!"
Sensing Molly and unable to find his mother, Will's shrieks grew louder
and more frantic. Mulder fought down the guilt that swamped him as he
listened to the terrified cries coming from his son; felt the trembling
of his tiny limbs; saw the tear-streaked face... Will was their only
hope, for if anything could bring Scully to the forefront it was the
love she had for their son.
"Come on, come on, come on," he chanted under his breath. But nothing
happened; Molly remained in place. Somehow sensing this, Will arched
his back and flung himself against his father's chest in baby-misery;
Mulder released Scully's waist in bitter defeat. He curled his arms
protectively around the baby and turned away, crying openly.
"It's okay, sweetheart," he murmured against Will's head. "Daddy's
here. It's okay." His voice broke on the word 'Daddy' and he pressed
his wet face into Will's neck as he walked to the other side of the
Explorer. Sinking down onto the grass, he leaned against the side of
the vehicle, using the car as a shield, blocking Will's view of Molly
as well as her view of them. He whispered reassurances into his son's
ear, rocking the distraught child there on the ground.
The baby's sobs turned to snuffling, shuddering sighs. Mulder's tears
dampened the reddish-brown curls atop Will's head as his own terror
consumed him.
Then from the other side of the car there was a low moan.
"My baby..."
A muffled thud and the sound of William Foxworth's low curse had Mulder
scrambling to his feet. He peered over the wide hood of the Explorer
and saw Scully, crumpled on the wet grass. Standing next to her was
Molly.
Thank you, God...
Tall and slender with strawberry blonde curls tumbling down her back,
she glowed in the moonlight. At a less desperate time in his life
Mulder might have gaped at her in wonder, but right now all he cared
about was getting to Scully. He stumbled around the car and fell to
his knees beside her unconscious form.
"Scully." He laid his hand against her throat, frantically checking
for a pulse. Beneath his fingers, he was rewarded with the faint, but
steady throbbing of her heartbeat.
"Oh, God!" His soft exclamation was both plea and prayer as he held
Will tightly in one arm and scooped Scully up to cradle her with his
other arm. She moaned softly and turned her face against his chest and
Mulder felt the gripping terror ease. A movement from the corner of
his eye caught his attention and he looked up.
William had eyes only for Molly and he moved toward her slowly. She
stood quietly, afraid to move... afraid to break the spell. William
stopped when he was but a few inches away from her and reached out with
one trembling hand to touch the blood that stained the white cotton of
her chemise.
"Molly?"
**********
In the swirling mist, two lovers who had not laid eyes on each other in
over two hundred and twenty six years stood and stared hungrily, at
beloved features so achingly familiar to them both.
William Foxworth traced a path up Molly Sullivan's bare shoulder, and
fingered a lock of her pale red hair. The errant curl clung to his
hand when he released it, and he managed a shaken smile as he
remembered the way those silky strands would wind about him in the
night when they had slept wrapped together in bare skin and rumpled
bedclothes. He spoke his thoughts aloud and watched silent tears well
up in his Molly's eyes; saw them streak down her face. And he shook
his head, held out his hands for her, closed his arms around her when
she flung herself against him and sobbed on his bloodstained coat.
For a long minute they embraced, both in tears, afraid to break the
magical spell with words. Finally Molly raised her head and slid one
hand up to cradle the curve of his jaw, eyes still swimming in tears.
So many things she wanted to say to him! So many... and she had waited
so many years to say them. She'd wandered the halls of Millcreek,
lonely beyond imagining, aching in her never-ending silence to whisper
his name once more - to tell him she would never have forgotten him,
would have died all over again - for him. To tell him and then show
him how many times she'd dreamed of touching him, holding him, kissing
him... making love with him.
When she rose on the tips of her toes, hands curving around his neck,
William groaned softly and snatched her up tight against his chest,
until she faced him eye to eye - and their lips met in a kiss that had
been in the waiting for two hundred and twenty six years.
All of the loneliness and the longing, all of the despair and pain and
unending ache of separation was poured into that one kiss. Lips
starved for the other's caress locked together with such tenderness and
passion that anyone watching would have felt their heart breaking at
the sight of it. Their tears mingled together on their wet cheeks and
their sighs and moans could be heard above the rustling of dead leaves
still attached to the trees dotted over the Cliveden estate. Neither
dared to close their eyes; they had to see each other, had to absorb
each other, completely.
William's hands slipped up from her slender waist and cupped her face
as he kissed his beloved Molly; kissed her with adoring lips and
questing tongue, with all the stored-up passion of hundreds of years.
He'd walked these damned bloody grounds for an eternity, pining for
her; afraid he'd remain in this purgatory forever, denied his Molly.
To have her in his arms again, to feel her against him, holding him...
it would be enough to sustain him, for another three hundred years, he
thought. And although he had no certainty of where they would go from
here, although he had believed in Heaven and Hell because he'd surely
been somewhere in between since the day his life had drained from his
battle-weary body... William Foxworth knew without a doubt he was now
standing in Heaven.
The kiss ended, the lovers drew apart, slowly - and twin smiles of
adoration lit up the already-glowing faces of Molly Sullivan and
William Foxworth. Without taking her eyes from his, Molly whispered
hoarsely, "I would have waited forever for you..."
He nodded, swallowing hard, and replied in a rough and broken voice, "I
would have spent eternity trying to get back to you."
Reaching into his pocket he withdrew a scrap of ribbon, tattered from
residing in a war-torn article of clothing. William smiled gently at
his beloved as he carefully tied it through Molly's thick, curling
locks, binding her hair up and away from her face, baring her neck to
the worshipful kiss he placed first on the left and then the right
side. The reverse of what he'd done, oh so many years ago when he'd
left her standing in front of the Millcreek Tavern with a fervent vow
between them and her lovely hair covering the kisses he'd given her...
**********
Mulder was peripherally aware of the reunion playing out so near, but
the center of his attention was the precious cargo he held. Will and
Scully - his entire life - safe in his arms. He pressed a kiss first
against Will's temple and then to Scully's. His mouth lingered there
as he reveled in the steady thrum of her pulse against his lips.
Scully roused and the smile she gave him was both sleepy and confused.
"I'll be right back," he whispered as he eased his arm from around her.
Scully nodded tiredly and watched him carry Will to the car. He was
back a moment later, kneeling before her and cupping her face in his
hands.
"Ready?" Mulder slid his arms around Scully's waist and drew her to
her feet to lead her to the Explorer. He held her securely with one
arm and yanked open the passenger door, tenderly guiding her into the
front seat while Will watched wide-eyed from the safety of his car
seat. Exhausted, Mulder walked around the car and pulled himself into
the driver's seat. Praying that the car would start, he turned the key
in the ignition and breathed a sigh of relief when the engine roared to
life. He put the transmission into gear and looked up.
"Scully..." he breathed. "Open your eyes - you have to see this."
Drawn by the urgent tone of his voice, Scully lifted sleep-heavy lids
and followed Mulder's pointing finger.
They stood there, two ghostly figures, glowing and beautiful. William
pressed another kiss to Molly's upturned mouth, then taking her hand he
began to lead her away, toward the open grounds of Cliveden Mansion and
into the dark and damp night mist. They had only taken a few steps,
when Molly stopped and turned back.
Her eyes met Scully's and she smiled tremulously; Scully didn't know
why but that smile caused her to roll down the passenger side window.
When she heard Molly's soft voice, Scully allowed her heart to listen.
"I am so sorry," Molly offered in a humble whisper. "I never meant to
hurt you. I only wanted... I just thought..." She glanced toward
Mulder and then up at William who stood protectively by her side before
returning her gaze to Scully. "I didn't know..."
Long seconds passed as the two women studied each other silently.
Scully knew what it was to love someone beyond all reason; knew what it
was to have a love that spanned eternity. She nodded, solemnly
accepting Molly's apology.
William leaned down and spoke softly in Molly's ear and the smile she
directed toward the small family waiting in the car was radiant.
"Thank you," she said fervently before raising her eyes once again to
meet William's expectant look. They moved as one, and as they glided
away on feet that didn't quite touch the ground, their clothes were no
longer bloodstained. Restored to the way they'd looked, that fateful
October in 1777, Molly Sullivan and William Foxworth had found each
other - and they would remain together, on another spiritual plane.
As it was meant to be... as it should have always been.
******************
End of Book One
Author's Notes:
Tess: Way back, when Char and I were writing Deliverance From Evil -
the vast majority of which was set in Char's Alaska - we talked about
the possibility of writing a story set in my home state of
Pennsylvania. We quickly came up with the idea of a ghost story set in
Lancaster County and then did absolutely nothing with it for over a
year. I had the fun job of making the trip to Lancaster under the
guise of performing research. I ate the yummy food, poked through the
quaint shops and went on the ghost tour. Great fun and I wrote it all
off on my expense account <g>
I heartily recommend that if you're ever in the general area, that you
stop off for a day or two and enjoy the area. It's really quite
beautiful.
Check out their website at: www.padutchcountry.com
Okay, now that I'm done plugging the natural beauties of Pennsylvania,
it's time for the litany of thanks.
First and foremost - my thanks to Char for her friendship and for
sharing her talent with me. We really do have a wonderful time writing
together.
Char Speaks (<g>): Lancaster, PA is on my 'To-Do' list, especially
after getting this wonderful Tess-eye view of it from the absolute best
writing partner and friend I have ever had. I am going back to visit
Tess next year, and when I do - she's taking me on a ghost tour! As
always I adore writing Mulder to Tess's fab Scully, and I am so glad we
got this one done!
Thanks also to Rafferty for her beta skills and cheerleading. To Aly,
for maintaining a website for Tess' stories, for her beautiful collages
and hard work and for loving this story when we snuck her a preview.