From: mrkeller829@gmail.com   
      
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   "Chermera" by Mary Ruth Keller Part 24  of 45   
   E-mail: mrkeller@eclipse.net, mrkeller829@gmail.com   
   PG-13   X-File: Myth-arc   Disclaimed in Part I   
   Already sent to Gossamer   
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   142 Curie Avenue, University City   
   San Diego, California   
   Thursday, June 18, 1998   
   7:09 pm   
      
   Jerry Donato lifted a small aqua can of Fancy Feast from its box, before   
   turning to look down at two pairs of eyes, one red, one odd-eyed   
   turquoise-green and blue. He knew they were attached to a mismatched duo of   
   felines who had materialized silently in    
   the kitchen doorway when he began opening cabinets to retrieve their plates.   
   "Now Sirs, your Mom will be back late tonight, so just a little bit more of   
   this bachelor living and we'll all be set again, you’ll see." He smiled at   
   the round face of the    
   ginger tabby. "Am I right, Seigneur?"   
      
   "Urr." Salazar flattened his rounded ears with impatience.   
      
   Jerry shook his head, astonished, still, that felines, with their otherness,   
   had come to co-habitate with humans. After spooning their dinners into two   
   identical mounds on their separate plates, he set the dishes before their   
   waiting faces. He    
   straightened, then watched them deliberately, precisely sniff their meals,   
   before picking out a morsel here, or there, to consume before diving in.   
      
   Licking his whiskers, Salazar lifted his head to cock both ears at the living   
   room, while Tuggles continued sampling. After a glance back down at the dish,   
   the British Shorthair trotted to the front room of the house to vault himself   
   onto the front    
   windowsill.   
      
   Jerry frowned. Salazar wasn't exhibiting his usual Falstaffian gusto at   
   mealtime. I hope he's not sick. He walked to the window where the red tabby   
   crouched, his thick, ringed tail slapping the glass repeatedly. His round eyes   
   were fixed on something in    
   the yard, so, Jerry peered out carefully himself, checking for the object that   
   was the focus of such intense scrutiny. But, no squirrel or vole or scrub jay   
   was dancing on the porch or in the grass. There was, however, a blue Ford   
   Taurus parked at the    
   edge of the front lawn. He could see a man sitting in the passenger seat,   
   lifting his arms as he faced the driver. The man was wearing a charcoal grey   
   suit, so he assumed these were two FBI agents under the command of Phil   
   Nichols, detailed for    
   surveillance of Sandra's residence. He recognized the behavior, having engaged   
   in it many times himself: a heated discussion to fill empty hours, possibly   
   about soccer or the best cop shows of the '80's. He and Maria had shared many   
   such long nights,    
   chatting in the darkness on stakeout. His fingers found the M on Salazar's   
   forehead.   
      
   "Now, Lord Inquisitor, they're doing their job. They're watching out for your   
   Mom, just like we are." He huffed. Generally Nichols's agents were more   
   cautious than this, setting up a half a block down and across the street. He'd   
   have to mention it when    
   he spoke next with the FBI ASAC. He turned to head back to the kitchen for   
   clean-up, so missed the opening of the passenger door.   
      
   As he entered the kitchen, he had to refrain from a shout. "Tugs, get out of   
   the sink!"   
      
   The Turkish Van, indulging that fascination shared with most members of his   
   breed, was balanced around the soaking plates, his fan tail waving gleefully,   
   soap suds covering his paws. The green eye narrowed at him, followed by   
   several emphatic repetitions    
   of his Siamese-like "Yeow!" It muffled completely the creak of the screen door   
   hinges and two tentative raps on the oak of the front door.   
      
   --o-0-o--   
      
   But, the FBI agents in the Taurus were staging nothing like covert operations   
   that evening. In fact, they both hoped the next few moments would bring the   
   longest investigation of their professional association to a successful close.   
      
   Dana Scully turned to her partner. "Mulder, do you think you're ready for   
   this? I mean, really ready?" Her green-blue eyes lifted from the steering   
   wheel to meet his hazel ones.   
      
   Mulder rubbed the back of his neck. "Yeah, I think I am." He reached across   
   the space to grasp her wrist. "Thanks, Scully."   
      
   She smiled gently in return, deeply grateful they had made their way past so   
   many dead ends and distractions to arrive here. "Mulder, I can't tell you what   
   an honor it has been to have helped you work through this and find your   
   sister. You deserve to    
   have this closure, finally." She covered his hand with her free palm, then   
   they let silence settle over them both, she still rubbing his fingers with her   
   thumb. They both jumped when a cell phone buzzed in one of their coats, but it   
   was she who lifted    
   her black unit to her ear. "Agent Scully speaking." She mouthed 'Chan' at her   
   partner, then waved her hand toward the house.   
      
   He threw up his arms in defeat, then nodded. This was most likely Agent Chan's   
   check-in after having delivered Marshal Tapping's organs for testing, so he   
   swiveled to exit their vehicle. As he tripped his way up the brick walk to the   
   front door, he found    
   he was, oddly enough, feeling calm, finally, about this impending reunion. His   
   Mother was safe in Santorini with Max, waiting word on her two children. His   
   partner had put the debility behind her that had nearly driven her out of the   
   Bureau and his life    
   forever. He, at last, had real answers to share with his sister about the   
   murder of their Father, as well as the shadowy organization that had snatched   
   her away from him, so many long years ago. He found himself pulling away an   
   unlocked screen door to    
   stand in front of a plain wooden one, then knocked twice. There was no answer,   
   so he tried peering in the window, but all he could see was a ginger tabby   
   blinking up at him. {One of her cats.} He stepped back down off the porch to   
   head to the side yard,    
   where he spotted a red gate to the rear. After lifting the latch, he slipped   
   through, then stopped. {So, this is Sam's garden.} He rested his fists on his   
   hips, pushing the linen of his jacket behind them as he walked up and down the   
   radial stone paths.    
   At least here, with the tang of oregano and the pungent musk of basil rising   
   around him, he could connect with a part of his sister's life he knew carried   
   deep significance for her.   
      
    --o-0-o--   
      
      
   [continued in next message]   
      
   --- SoupGate-Win32 v1.05   
    * Origin: you cannot sedate... all the things you hate (1:229/2)