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: At end.
Forgive Us Our Trespasses, Epilogue - Mathew Mulder's
Story.
"What a pretty park," Rosie said, her gloved hands
gripping the black iron bars. "Did you used to
play here?"
"Every day. I can get the key from the house, if you
want to see it," Mathew said.
Rosie rolled her eyes.
"You have your own park. Of course."
"It's not *mine*. It's for the neighborhood," Mathew
explained.
"And it's locked."
"Rosie. . . " He touched her shoulder and she turned
to face him. "I know you're nervous about meeting my
parents, but it's going to be OK."
"Your father is Fox Mulder," she said, her eyes
widening as she said the name. "My father used to
sing that old song, you know the one...'I could
have all of Mulder's millions, but I'd be broke
without your love.' Of course, I'm scared."
Mathew laughed and put his arms around her.
"Grandmother Mulder hated that song. My parents
thought it was hilarious. My father isn't scary,
I promise. Your father is twice as scary as mine."
Rosie laughed.
"He likes you, Mathew. You should see how he was with
my other boyfriends."
"And my mother. . . " Mathew paused. It was
difficult to describe his mother so that she wouldn't
sound intimidating. Her public image was of someone
demanding and determined, with no patience for
dishonesty or stupidity. In private she was much the
same, but she could also be silly and fun.
"Your mother is Dr. Katherine Mulder. Dr. Secare
called her the living link between the laboratory and
the actual practice of medicine. She revolutionized
battlefield medicine. She's adviser to FDR. She
travels around the world, touring hospitals, demanding
to inspect prisons. She's brilliant and fearless."
Mathew sometimes felt his mother's accomplishments as
a burden or a reproach. She had achieved so much,
despite a medical establishment that was quick to
dismiss women as interlopers or lightweights.
"She's afraid of snakes," he said.
Rosie gave him the look that said he was a dolt but at
least he was amusing.
"So what?" she asked.
"So, she's human. Look, Rosie, you loved me when you
thought I was a humble medical student. Nothing has
changed."
She surprised him with a quick kiss.
"I do love you, but everything has changed. Your
family is rich and famous, and I'm just little Rose
Caselli from the North End of Boston," she said.
"Who is brilliant, beautiful, and soon to find her own
fame and fortune as a renowned psychologist."
"And you're just as nervous as I am. That's why we're
freezing to death and staring at the park instead of
going to your house."
"You see? I said you were brilliant." He took her
hand and led her down the street. "But, Rosie, I know
my parents will love you. I'm nervous about this."
He tapped his hand to his chest.
"The uniform?" She topped in her tracks. "Mathew,
didn't you tell them you were going to enlist?"
"I, er, tried. I told them that my country needed me,
and they both agreed. My mother said my country
needed me to finish med school."
"But you will, right? That's part of the program."
"I thought Dad would understand," Mathew said. "He
and Mother didn't give a second thought to going to
Europe during the Great War. He put himself right
in the thick of the action taking those photographs."
"His pictures were brilliant," Rose said. "There's
speculation that they actually shortened the war
when President Wilson saw them."
"Dad said I had no idea what war was like, or the
suffering that could occur at home when every resource
was sent overseas. And then. . ." He grew silent,
remembering Dad's consternation. For a few minutes
Mathew had feared his father might actually cry.
"Anyway, I didn't tell them."
Rosie shook her head.
"Oh, Mathew."
He squeezed her hand.
"It's kinder this way. Fait accompli."
He drew her up the front steps, past the delicate
ironwork surrounding the entrance and unlocked
the heavy oak door.
"Hello? Anyone home?" Mathew called out as he pushed
the door open and walked into the foyer. Footsteps
echoed distantly from somewhere at the back of the
house, and then a booming tenor voice.
"Matty, me boy! 'Tis a fine wind blows you home to
us."
"Oh, no," Mathew said under his breath, and Rosie
turned to him with surprise.
"My brother, Mike. Sometimes he drinks too much," he
explained in a whisper.
Mike appeared in the foyer, and Mathew was relieved to
see he looked dapper and fresh.
"Good to see you, Mike," Mathew said. Mike clasped
him into an affectionate hug that was only a little
too tight, and Mathew could smell the Irish whiskey on
his breath. They broke apart, each man taking a step
backward.
"Rosie, this is--" His introduction was interrupted by
an outburst from Mike.
"Good God, Mathew, what are you wearing?"
"It better be a United States Army lieutenant's tunic,
or those guys at the recruitment office were playing
a trick on me."
"You know your dad can get you out it. You don't have
to do this."
"I enlisted, Michael. I want to do my part."
"Matty, no. We can't lose you too."
"Pull yourself together," Mathew implored him. "I
want you to meet my fiancee."
With obvious effort, Mike composed himself.
"Where are my manners? By all means, present me to
this lovely lady."
"Rose Caselli, I'd like to introduce my brother,
Michael."
Mike took the hand that Rose extended.
"Cousin, actually. And I'm delighted to meet you."
"Adopted brother," Mathew said.
"Michael Murphy at your service. I suppose Michael
Murphy Mulder would open more doors, but there's only
so much alliteration one man can handle."
Rosie laughed.
"Besides, Michael Murphy is the name of my favorite
playwright," she said.
Mathew felt his cheeks color.
"I guess I forgot to mention," he mumbled.
"Yes, the playwright. Which of his works is your
favorite?"
Mike was in his glory, and Mathew was worried. His
brother was one of the kindest people he'd ever known,
but alcohol made him unpredictable.
Rosie, meanwhile, was gushing about his plays.
"I adore them both. 'Her Majesty Maureen' is so
funny, with that cranky old lady and her boarders.
I've seen it three times. 'A Fine Madness' is
wonderful too, but I don't think I could bear to
see it again. It's just too sad."
"The orphan boy. Yes, very sad," Mike said.
"It's a beautiful story, how he uses his pain and
isolation to become a great painter. But there's
so much heartache. And it's true, money can't buy
happiness."
[continued in next message]
--- SoupGate-Win32 v1.05
* Origin: you cannot sedate... all the things you hate (1:229/2)
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