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 27
"Mother, Mother, I am sick,
Send for the doctor,
Quick, quick, quick!
Doctor, Doctor, shall I die?
Yes, my darling,
By and by."
The children's voices were high and reedy, carried
in the wind, along with the scent of the potatoes
they were roasting over a small fire on the beach.
They were barefoot, skinny, dirty-faced sons and
daughters of fishermen, so like Katie and her brothers
and sister as children.
Katie turned and walked away, the brisk wind flaring
her skirts behind her. Knuckling the tears from her
cheek, she kept her head down to avoid the stinging sand.
She walked for hours every day, up and down the
beach, where she moved past the fishermen like a ghost.
Katie hadn't chosen this place. When she'd left after
her daughter's funeral, the only thing she'd known for
sure was that she couldn't stay in the Mulder home
for even one more hour.
She'd stood at the ticket counter, barely able
to speak, let alone decide where she would go.
The ticket agent must have grown frustrated, but
perhaps he sensed her bone-deep sadness.
"Lots of folks like the seashore," he'd offered.
"There's nice towns all along the New Haven Line."
So, she'd bought a ticket and gotten on the train.
When the conductor called out the stop for Stone
Harbor, Katie had risen from her seat as if propelled
by an unseen hand.
The town was small, clinging to the rocky coast of
Connecticut like a barnacle on a boat. Katie rented
a small cottage on a bluff overlooking the windswept
beach. She rarely walked to town, except to purchase
a little food.
Katie held her skirts above the sand, glancing down
as her hands clutched the fabric. Without her wedding
ring, her left hand felt odd, wrong. The week before,
she'd packed the ring in a little box and walked to
the tiny Stone Harbor post office to mail it back to
Mulder. It felt wrong to keep it. She didn't
deserve the honor of owning it.
Her husband couldn't bear her presence. Deep down,
Katie knew that Mulder could never hate her. But
could he ever look at Katie and not remember how
her selfish insistence on working had killed their
child?
He would be better off without her. If her time
amongst the rich had taught Katie anything, it was
that she would never belong. Mulder couldn't
recognize that, but having Katie in his life would
only hold him back. Better that he get over Mairead's
death and Katie's loss, all at once, rather than drag
things out to their inevitable ending.
Katie had been blinded by her love for Mulder and his
love for her. She had forgotten the immutable truth
that their lives together had been built on a lie.
She'd fallen in love with Mathew Fox--a man who did not
exist.
The man she'd married was Fox Mulder, a very different
man than the poor photographer who lived for his
art and for Katie. Fox Mulder was as kind and loving
and exciting as Mathew Fox had ever been, but he was
a mystery to her. "The rich are different from us,"
Walter Skinner had told her years ago, and it was true.
Fox Mulder, for all his love, was often unfathomable
to her in his thoughts and his actions.
She could see her little cottage in the distance, its
weathered gray shingles and green trim shimmering in
the sun. Katie supposed that happy families may have
spent happy weeks in its confines, but it had been an
empty structure to her, even when she was in it.
She picked up her pace as she approached the cottage.
Leaning against the railing on the little porch was a
dark clad figure. His head was down, a hat obscuring
his face. For a second, she thought of Mulder and her
heart seemed to skip a beat before she realized the
figure was too broad across the shoulders.
"Hello, Kate," Skinner said as she climbed the steps.
"Hello, Walter," she replied, cautiously. In spite of
the warmth of the day, a chill ran down her spine.
The feeling of foreboding puzzled her. She had thought
herself too numb to feel anything.
"How are you?" he asked. At her shrug, he continued.
"We were so worried about you. Please come home. Mulder
needs you."
"Oh, Walter, I'm the last person Mulder needs. He can't
stand the sight of me."
"That's not true, Kate. He wasn't himself before you
left. He...he's been very ill."
"Oh no," Katie said, panic settling in her belly. She
remembered how thin and tired Mulder had gotten during
her illness, how he'd neglected himself when Mairead
became sick.
"I know he said things, terrible things, but you have
to understand--he was out of his mind."
"I don't hold anything against him, Walter. Whether it
was grief or illness, nothing has changed. He was right.
I caused my child's death by my own selfishness. His
illness didn't put the thoughts in his head. It just
allowed the words to come out."
"He does need you," Skinner said, taking Katie's hands.
"When his fever broke, he became frantic because you were
gone. He remembered...what he'd said to you."
"Walter...my coming back would only delay the inevitable."
"No. You don't understand. He went out looking for you
and collapsed. Dr. Wieder says it's encephalitis. Mulder
won't survive if you don't come home."
"Oh no. Oh, dear God, no." Katie felt her knees give way
and Skinner's strong arms encircle her. He helped her
over to the rocking chair that stood on the porch.
"I have a ticket for you," Skinner said. "We have to
hurry if we're going to catch the train."
"What if he doesn't make it..." she whispered, her
eyes downcast.
"Come on, let's get you packed up."
It took a pitifully short time for Katie to gather
her things and pack them in the valise. She and
Skinner were soon on the train bound for New York
City.
"How did you find me?" she asked, as they rattled
along in their seats.
"Your ring," Walter answered. "I followed the
postmark to Stone Harbor. If you hadn't sent it
back, I never would have found you."
They didn't speak again until the train pulled into
Grand Central Station. Skinner carried her valise
as they walked to the taxi stand.
"I'll send word to your mother as soon as we get
to the house," he said. "She's been very worried
about you."
"Thank you," Katie answered, a pang of guilt tugging
[continued in next message]
--- SoupGate-Win32 v1.05
* Origin: you cannot sedate... all the things you hate (1:229/2)
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