Date: Mon, 8 Jul 1996 21:02:02 -0400 (EDT) From: Constantine Rye Subject: Addition to Archive I sent you a note via Evay@aol.com to which you kindly replied. Following is my story, which I did post to a.t.x.c. in March but I think it was lost in cyberspace. Thanks for the opportunity to make my little niche complete. ______________________________________________________________ My husband called me at work to give me the basis for this one. I think maybe Scimmio HAS taken up residence in Rick's head rather than mine. QUICK PREVIEW: Mulder meets a kindred spirit on the way out of Arizona. The following story contains characters copyrighted 1993 by Ten Thirteen Productions, Fox Broadcasting, and probably Chris Carter, Glen Morgan, and James Wong. These characters are used without permission. No copyright infringement is intended. All other material copyright 1996 by Idria Barone Knecht, all rights reserved. Editorial commentary of any kind is welcome at murdock@thunder.ocis.temple.edu or this newsgroup. If Congress doesn't like what I have to say they can bite me. CARLA ETUDE by Idria Barone Knecht There was no airport in Peach Springs, Arizona, but passenger trains ran to Flagstaff twice daily, so the two agents had opted to turn in their rental car early and ride the rails instead. Scully was quite pleased; perhaps she could get a nap before they got to the airport for the short flight to Phoenix. At least they wouldn't have to argue over who drove. It had been an incredibly long day at the end of a string of long days. They had spent six hours rushing armed through dark tunnels and then freezing in awkward positions for ten minutes at a time, following the lead of a highly-strung constable. She was convinced that the sounds and flashes of light coming from the abandoned caves outside town meant something dangerous lurked in the subterranean tunnels. Local rumor had held that the caves, which might have once been part of the federally-protected Hualpai Reservation, were old mines, complete with the ghosts of old miners, so the FBI had sent in their paranormal experts... who were just as glad to be leaving. After the constable had stopped the search party for the tenth time, demanding everyone hold motionless while she listened for sounds of imminent cave-in, Mulder's stash of sunflower seeds had run out along with his patience and he declared an end to their involvement in the case. The evening train was pretty empty. Not many people went INTO the city on a Sunday night, so Mulder was able to stretch out on the seat beside him without guilt. He watched the sun set over the rocky countryside and let his mind drift contentedly. "What's today's date?" Scully asked, finishing up their paperwork on her PowerBook. "The twentieth." "That means tomorrow is Midsummer..." she murmured. "The longest day of the year." "I think today qualifies for that title, Scully." He stretched his arms above his head, listening to the muscles creak. "We must have been hunched over in that middle cave for half an hour listening to rats. Next time we go spelunking, I want mines with cathedral ceilings." He grinned at her, but she wasn't listening. "Scully?" "Hm? Oh -- sorry. I was woolgathering." She typed a few more things and saved her document. "What about?" Scully sighed softly, trying to busy herself with shutting the machine down, but her partner's question hung between them. "Missy," she finally answered. She snapped the case shut and tucked the PowerBook under her seat. "She celebrated Midsummer as a holiday. The first few years Mom was still trying to get her to come back and fit in, so we... we tried doing things together...." She shook her head and stared out the window at the streaks of fiery light on the mountains. "And you couldn't stomach it?" he said sympathetically. She pressed her lips together; these weren't happy memories. "I guess at some deep level I was still angry with her. She was turning her back on Catholicism, on us, and the rituals just felt like she was... rubbing it in. It wasn't until after she left and I met some Wiccans at the Academy that I understood...." She trailed off self-consciously, but Mulder was listening without any sign of judgment on his face. She slipped her feet out of her shoes and curled them beneath her on the cushion. "I finally understood that for Melissa it was something positive. She wasn't doing something AGAINST us, it was FOR herself, something that was individual and unique to her. Something that made her more than 'Captain Scully's daughter.' " "She was Wiccan?" "Some kind of pagan, it might not have been Wicca exactly. More New Age and crystals." Mulder nodded. "But even if it wasn't a specific religious belief, Melissa felt she had some... connection to the earth. That the turning of the seasons was -- " She shrugged. "That it was something worth celebrating." Her voice was a little bewildered, mostly resigned. "Of course," she added dryly, "she also believed that spirits took physical form on Midsummer's Eve and made contact with humans who were worthy." "Was she ever worthy enough?" he asked with a smile. Scully's face softened. "Actually, just last summer she said she saw a spirit." "Really? What happened?" "She didn't specify. She just said that the spirits -- no no, how did she put it, the *Elements* thought her deserving of a visit." Mulder swung his legs down off the seat and got more comfortable facing her, clearly enjoying the turn of conversation. "The Elements? Like Earth, Air, Fire, and Water?" "She didn't see all four of them. Just Fire." "Why Fire? I thought the Elements had something to do with your astrological sign." "No, Melissa said that the Element was linked to a person's personality. That she was stubborn and aggressive and did things her own way, and that made her a Fire person." Scully cocked an eyebrow at him. "Sounds familiar, actually." Mulder hid a smile in his hand. "So what does that make you?" he asked her. "Earth, of all things." "That makes sense, Scully. You're grounded and practical -- " "And boring as a clod of dirt." "You're not boring," he laughed. "Earth is a good thing. Think of yourself as -- an anchor. A foundation, something stable. A place where people can put down their roots. The one solid and dependable thing in someone's life despite any storm." Mulder stopped abruptly, embarrassed. He wasn't usually given to waxing poetic about his partner. "Is that what you think of me?" Her expression was bemused. He looked down at his shoes, tongue-tied. At that moment the air brakes belched mightily and the train came to a hissing halt. The two agents looked up, wondering what was going on. "We're not at a stop yet, are we?" "In the middle of the mountains? Not unless we're giving some goats a ride to Flagstaff." "We'll miss our flight if we're here too long. This connection is already cutting it a little close." Mulder shrugged. "So we stay in Flagstaff until tomorrow morning. Maybe the hotel will have Swedish massage facilities and we can get all the kinks out of our backs." She shook her head. "That's about as likely as the possibility of ghosts in that mine." "Ugh. Point taken. So where are we?" "We left about forty-five minutes ago, right? Where did I put that map?" Scully pulled her bag closer and unzipped it, looking for the Arizona map she'd bought upon their arrival. "I think we used it as kindling when we were burning Constable Chloe in effigy." "That's such a ridiculous affectation," she murmured. "If she's going to use her title, she should go by Constable Huggins. Mixing authority and informality like that is hardly professional." "She really rubbed you the wrong way, didn't she." Scully leaned over to see if anyone else was sharing the car with them, but they were alone. "I thought she was a pompous and overblown ass who took herself far too seriously," she informed him quietly as she pulled the map out. Mulder turned half his mouth up in a grin and helped her to get the map unfolded across their laps. "Let's see... here's Flagstaff... so here's Peach Springs..." "How far do you think that is, Mulder, about a hundred, a hundred and twenty miles?" "You have your glasses. I forgot mine in the office." "When was the last time you wore your glasses?" "When we were investigating that woman in New Orleans who was doing the automatic writing. Channeling her grandfather, I think." "And she automatically wrote a lot of bad checks on Granddad's account," Scully pointed out. "How fast was this train going?" "Eighty miles an hour, at least." "So we're sixty miles out of Peach Springs. Which puts us right in the middle of..." They peered at the map. "The San Francisco Mountains." They both turned and looked out the window. The sun was nearly down, making it hard to distinguish the jagged peaks from the darkening sky. "Maybe there's an express cable car running from here to Flagstaff." "Maybe I should go up front and find out why the train has stopped," Scully responded, folding up the map. "If they want us to get out and push, tell them I'm calling my union." She rolled her eyes affectionately as she put her shoes back on and left the car to find the conductor. Mulder leaned back into his seat and put his feet up again. He looked out the window to admire the purples and blues along the horizon and found that the light in the car was making his reflection clearer than the mountains. He stood up and double-checked that no one else was in the car, then walked to the door and hunted around until he located the light switch. "That's better," he said to himself as the car darkened. He took his seat once more and studied the barren landscape. It wasn't what he'd grown up with -- the greens of grass and trees, the grays of wood weathered by sunlight and sea, the beige and white of sand on the beach and the sides of the roads. The land here was red and orange, brown and yellow, passionate colors, extreme colors, which burned brightly by day but offered little comfort when night fell. he thought, rubbing his eyes. He opened his eyes again. A flicker of light in the corner of his field of vision caught his attention. He turned, hoping to see some local animal or perhaps an engineer coming to see what was wrong. Hovering outside the window ws a tiny, glowing, winged -- spirit. There was no other word for her -- and it was definitely a her. Her body, not much larger than his hand, was humanoid, but blurry, as though she were wrapped in a personal fogbank. She fluttered aloft on wings which appeared to be a little longer than she was, beating faster than a hummingbird's. Her hair was long and wispy, trailing off -- or fading away -- into the darkness where her light couldn't penetrate. The expression on her face was curious and intelligent. Mulder remained stunned only long enough for every exquisite detail to burn into his eidetic memory. Then he leapt out of his seat and flung himself towards the car door, eager to run outside and catch a closer glimpse of the small being. But when he wrenched the outside door open, she was gone. He hung out the door, looking up and down, and even went out onto the grass a few steps, but saw nothing in the deep blue gloom. A faint acrid odor tickled the back of his throat; that was all. He stood staring at the train, hands on his hips, scanning the cars, the sky, the grass, the mountains, anything for a sign of the flyer. He even fell to his knees and looked below the car to see if she'd flown underneath. Nothing. "Great," he sighed. "Now I'm seeing Midsummer Night's Dreams. I wonder what kind of mushrooms were on that pizza at lunch." Quite disappointed, he returned to the car and shut the door behind him. He sat again, leaving the car dark, wondering if he'd actually dozed off and dreamed the fairy, taking the image from Scully's earlier comments. A minute or two later, his brooding was interrupted by another flicker of light. He looked up immediately to see the bright creature once again bobbing in the air by his window. His abrupt movement startled her, and she disappeared in a puff of smoke. "Wait don't -- " The words died on his lips as he spoke them. "Shit." He banged his fist against the glass lightly and peered out into the darkness to all sides of the window. Some twenty seconds later she reappeared. This time Mulder held his breath to keep himself from surprising her. She watched him, seemingly as irresistbly drawn to him as he was to her. After a long moment when either hardly moved, she dared to come closer to the window. Slowly he began to stand, hoping to edge out into the corridor and thereby the door, but she promptly dove out of sight. Swearing with words he'd forgotten he knew, he fell to his knees on the seat and pressed himself to the glass. "She didn't teleport this time, she just flew off, so she has to be -- there!" She was hiding beneath the car. Her orange-gold glow lit up the grass and rail like a miniature furnace. Mulder strained to see more. "Here, fairy fairy," he murmured, tapping on the glass to get her attention. "Come on out. I just want to see you, little one." Presently the flyer crept out, cautious but unafraid. Now that her wings were stilled for a moment, Mulder could see they were translucent, a gossamer membrane. She flexed them like a butterfly. He could only marvel in astonishment at what he was seeing. "A fairy. A spirit," he mumbled. "A Fire-elemental. Is that what you are? Come closer. Come on, come up here. Come on." He used his best wheedle, the coaxing voice that had made him friends with every dog on the block in high school. He couldn't see her features too well from so far away, but her head was cocked in a position of listening, and interest. He kept scratching and tapping at the window and calling to her softly. At length she came all the way out from under the car and crouched upon the rail, watching him. Mulder continued his soft cajoling. She was a sight, that was for certain. The fog around her writhed and flickered like dancing flames, illuminating this feature and that. She looked like a living candle. he thought, and smiled. The expression seemed to embolden the spirit. She launched herself upwards to the height of the window again, until she was level with Mulder's eyes. It took no effort at all on his part to keep his smile in place. He drank in the sight of her, tracking her movements, more fluid than a bee, more purposeful than a bird. She moved from one side of the window to another, trying to see his face from all angles. At one point she dipped low to see under his chin, and he moved forward so quickly trying to keep her in view that he bumped his head on the glass. "Way to go," he grumbled, rubbing his forehead and feeling foolish. The fairy rose back up again, her miniature features twisted in concern. Her glow increased until he could see the shadow of his arm flickering on the seat cover beside him. He wondered if the illumination meant she gave off heat, and splayed his hand on the glass to see if he could feel a temperature difference. The fairy stared intently at him, trying to divine the meaning of his movement. Her gaze flicked between his hand and his eyes. He did nothing, watching her, waiting to see what she would do. The spirit giggled silently as she figured it out. She came close to place her own tiny hand to the window too, just for a moment, to show she understood, then darted away again. A spark of warmth penetrated to his palm. Mulder felt his whole soul lift with the sheer joy of it. The door to the car slammed open abruptly. "Mulder, I talked to the engin--" Scully began. He whipped his head around and shushed her frantically. "What is it?" she whispered, coming to his window. "Scully, you've gotta see this -- " But the flyer was gone. Only a puff of smoke remained. "She was right there -- Scully, I swear, you should have seen her -- " "Seen who? And why are the lights off?" "...A spirit. -- An Elemental." It sounded silly to say it aloud. "The -- I couldn't see the sunset, so I shut the lights, and I saw..." He gestured outside, frustrated. "She was right there! Look, you can see the smoke where she teleported!" "Mulder, that's what I came to tell you," Scully responded in a more normal voice, turning back to the car entrance and flipping the lights on again. "The engineer said there were a few small fires on the track and they had to put them out. That's the smoke from a brush fire, that's all. It's pretty common in this area." "You just told me what Melissa said about Midsummer's Eve," he protested. "Yes, but I didn't say I BELIEVED it," she told him, sitting down. "You know, you haven't gotten much sleep in the past three days. You might have been dreaming with your eyes open." Mulder turned to the window, but all he could see now was his own crestfallen reflection. He flopped back into his seat and stretched his legs out, shuttering his expression. "Well, anyway, we should be moving again pretty soon," she continued briskly, smoothing her skirt. "And we won't have to spend the night in Flagstaff either, because the local airport is having a little fog trouble and they're holding all flights." He nodded acknowledgement. They sat without speaking until the train started again. Scully watched him try to keep his eyes on the spot they were leaving, seeing the hope fade on his face as they pulled away. She shifted a little on the seat, and then broke the silence at last. "Besides, Mulder," she told him softly, kicking her shoes off again, "Melissa... Missy would have said that if you DID see something... it was only meant for you to see." Mulder looked at her, but she was quite studiously arranging her shoes on the floor beside her bag. He understood then, and relaxed. It was as close as his rational partner could allow herself to get to that otherworld which her sister had so cherished... which had consented to show him its face that night. He put his hand to the glass, felt its warmth, and was content. IMBK 10,13.III.96