From: taffyxf@yahoo.com   
      
   Title: Forgive Us Our Trespasses   
   Author: Taffy Northwood   
   E-Mail: taffyxf@yahoo.com   
   Rating:  NC17 (now and then)   
   Category:  AU, MSR   
   Archives:  Just ask.   
   Feedback: Never in bad taste    
   Disclaimer: Mulder, Scully, Skinner and any   
   other XF characters are on loan only.   
   Summary:  In 1911 New York City, there were two   
   distinct and separate worlds: that of the very wealthy   
   and that of the very poor.  Could love bridge the   
   great divide between those worlds for two star-crossed   
   lovers?   
   Author Notes: Like a huge part of the fandom, I've   
   become absolutely dotty over AU fic.  This is my   
   modest attempt to put Mulder and Scully into another   
   time and place.  Please be aware, this is a   
   work-in-progress.   
      
   Forgive Us Our Trespasses - Mr. and Mrs. Fox Mulder's   
   story - Part 26   
      
   "Katie? I'm so thirsty.  Where are you, Kate?"   
      
   "Here, Fox.  Let me help you."  Her voice was soft, and   
   she smelled of soap and roses.   
      
   An arm snaked gently behind his shoulders, raising his   
   head.  Cool water slipped past his parched lips.   
   Greedy, he drank too quickly and coughed.  His chest   
   burned and he groaned.   
      
   "Easy, Fox.  Just a few sips."   
      
   Something wasn't right.  Katie always called him "Mulder."   
   He must be very ill, indeed, for her to call him by his   
   given name.   
      
   He couldn't see her.  The room was dark and he could   
   barely make out her slender shape.  Something was wrong,   
   but he was tired, and it was so hard to think.   
      
   "My head hurts," he said.  A cool hand came to rest   
   against his forehead.  The touch was gentle, but wrong,   
   somehow.   
      
   "Your fever is down, thank God."   
      
   He grabbed at her hand before she could move it, and held   
   it between his palms.  It wasn't right.  Katie had   
   capable little hands, swift and sure in their ministrations.   
   This wasn't Katie's hand.   
      
   "Where is Katie?" he asked, weakly.  He raised himself   
   up on one elbow, his hand outstretched.  His arms had no   
   strength and he was easily pushed back onto the mattress.   
   "Why isn't she here?"   
      
   "You've been very ill, Fox."  Gentle fingers brushed   
   the hair from his forehead.  "You need to stay in bed."   
      
   "Samantha," he said, finally recognizing the voice.   
   "Why is it so dark?"   
      
   "You complained that the light hurt your eyes.  We've   
   kept the shades drawn and the lamps turned down.  I'm   
   so glad you're awake.  How do you feel?"   
      
   "Everything hurts," he mumbled.  "My chest...it hurts   
   to breathe."   
      
   "Fox, you had us all so frightened."   
      
   "Please tell me.  Where is Katie?"   
      
   "Let me call Dr. Wieder."   
      
   "You can call him later.  Tell me."  He closed his eyes,   
   praying with all his might that she was alive.  His   
   memory was hazy, but he remembered Katie lying in this   
   very bed, looking as if she might slip away into death.   
      
   "She's...she's not here, Fox."   
      
   The bedroom door opened and Walter Skinner peered in.   
   "I thought I heard voices."   
      
   "Walter, why don't you sit with Fox and I'll let Dr.   
   Wieder know he's awake."   
      
   Samantha exited the room with a swish of petticoats,   
   probably too uncomfortable to remain one moment longer.   
   Skinner looked like he'd aged ten years, his face   
   drawn and tired.  He pulled a chair closer to the bed   
   and sat down.   
      
   "What happened to me?" Mulder asked.  "And where the   
   hell is Katie?"   
      
   Skinner took off his spectacles, rubbing weary eyes.   
   He polished one lens and then the other with his   
   handkerchief.   
      
   "You locked yourself in the library after the   
   funeral," Skinner began.   
      
   "Funeral," Mulder echoed.  His precious child, ripped   
   out of his heart and laid to rest.  Her birth, which   
   almost took her mother's life.  One birthday.  One   
   death day.   The knowledge that his Mairead was dead   
   hit him like a stone dropped from a great height.   
      
   "That was six days ago," Skinner continued. "You and   
   Katie had words, and some time after that she left the   
   house."   
      
   "We argued? It's not possible."   
      
   "Daisy heard the two of you."   
      
   "I...it's all a blank.  I just know I couldn't bear   
   to see the pain on her face.  I remember being relieved   
   when she left the room."   
      
   "I understood if you wanted to be alone, but after two   
   days I broke down the library door."   
      
   "Where's Katie now?  Didn't someone try to find her?"   
      
   "I telephoned to her mother and the clinic, but no one   
   has seen her."   
      
   "Didn't you go look for her?  She's been terribly ill,   
   and she just lost Mairead!"  Mulder's outburst threw   
   him into a fit of coughing, and the pain in his ribs   
   forced him back down against his pillow.   
      
   "I sent Dunham around, and Miss Muir made some   
   inquiries.  Mulder, I don't think you understand how   
   sick you were yourself."   
      
   "I had pneumonia?"   
      
   "You were sicker even than Katie had been.  You had   
   drained every drop of whiskey in the library, and that   
   weakened you further."   
      
   "It made me feel better.  Stopped the cough," Mulder   
   explained.   
      
   "Wieder thought you were going to die."   
      
   "We need to find Katie.  Help me up, Skinner."   
      
   "It's too soon."   
      
   Mulder struggled to rise from the bed without help,   
   but his chest burned and he saw spots before his eyes.   
      
   "Damn it, Skinner," he groaned in frustration.   
   "I have to talk to Daisy."   
      
   "I'll find Daisy and bring her to you but you have to rest."   
      
   Mulder realized he had little choice.   
      
   "Can you get some paper?"   
      
   Skinner returned with a pad and looked at Mulder   
   expectantly, waiting for his dictation.   
      
   "I'm not too feeble to write," Mulder said, angrily,   
   but his hand shook as he reached for the pen.  "Go   
   find Katie."   
      
   Samantha returned as soon as Skinner had departed,   
   carrying a silver tray.   
      
   "Cook prepared beef tea for you," Samantha told him.   
      
   "Not now," he said.   
      
   "You have to eat, Fox, or you'll never get well."   
      
   "Leave it here, then."   
      
   She looked doubtful.   
      
   "You'll pour it in the potted palm.  I remember that   
   trick," she said.   
      
   He smiled weakly, remembering happier times with his   
   sister.   
      
   "Samantha, I need to ask you something.  Is there   
   anything in this house, anything of Father's, that   
   you're especially fond of?"   
      
   Her face grew serious.   
      
   "Stop that, Fox.  You're frightening me."   
      
   "Never mind, then."   
      
   She withdrew from the room, still shaken.  Mulder   
   tried to sit up, but he was simply too weak.  Instead   
   he turned on his side and began to write.   
      
   "Last Will and Testament."   
      
   Samantha always loved the farm, but Mulder thought now   
   that he would like to give it outright to Jim Parker,   
   who had run it so well for so long.  That reminded him   
   to place a stipend for Kevin Kryder, with a sum to be   
   awarded when he came of age.   
      
   He would give Samantha the Lodge.  His heart almost   
   broke again at the thought.  It should have been for   
   his sweet daughter.  It was all supposed to go to her.   
      
   Samantha had been slighted in Father's will, and   
   Mulder righted that wrong.  He also passed to her his   
   share of the Little Dynamo Company, making her an   
   equal partner with her husband, Frohike and the   
   others.   
      
   Mother would be as secure and pampered as he could   
   make her.  He couldn't prevent her from turning to   
   Spender, but it would not be from necessity.   
      
   Mulder sank back on the pillow, to work out the   
   details in his mind before the exhausting task of   
      
   [continued in next message]   
      
   --- SoupGate-Win32 v1.05   
    * Origin: you cannot sedate... all the things you hate (1:229/2)