From: taffyxf@yahoo.com   
      
   Title: Forgive Us Our Trespasses   
   Author: Taffy Northwood   
   E-Mail: taffyxf@yahoo.com   
   Rating:  NC17 (eventually)   
   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 1909 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 - Mathew Fox's story, part 3   
      
   Skinner knocked now before entering Fox's bedroom.   
   That was one of many changes, and one of the good   
   ones.  There was a new distance between the two,   
   and if Fox missed the companionship, he also   
   realized that it was a necessary adjustment.   
      
   In any event, he had little time for loneliness.   
      
   Fox stood shaving in his bathroom, the taps wide   
   open, and Skinner must have knocked quite forcefully.   
      
   "Enter," Fox called.   
      
   Skinner's reflection appeared in the mirror, watching   
   and silent.  With a pang, Fox remembered his own   
   youthful fascination at watching his tutor shave.   
   That was long ago, when Fox was a smooth-faced boy   
   and Skinner had hair on his head.   
      
   "Your father came up here last night, before you   
   returned," Skinner said at last.  "I told him you   
   were fast asleep."   
      
   "Very good," said Fox.   
      
   "He asked to see you at breakfast this morning.  He   
   and your mother wish to speak to you."   
      
   "I see."   
      
   "He said he had looked for you down in the darkroom.   
   He asked who was responsible for the 'chamber of   
   horrors' he found there."   
      
   Fox felt as if he'd been slapped.   
      
   "He called my photos a chamber of horrors?" he asked.   
      
   "I'm sure he was reacting to the subject matter, not   
   the artistic merit.  I chose to tell him that I had   
   taken up the hobby," Skinner said.   
      
   "Oh.  Well, good that you told me."   
      
   "Yes, Mr. Mulder.  Any instructions for today?"   
      
   "I left some notes from the Powhattan Mill meeting.   
   They need to be transcribed into something coherent,"   
   he said.  Deciphering Fox's chicken scratch notes and   
   typewriting them would keep Skinner busy all morning.   
   "That will do, Skinner."   
      
   Fox whistled the funeral march as he finished shaving,   
   his discomfort tempered by his secret happiness.  It   
   had been three weeks since Katie Scully had watched over   
   his battered body.   
      
   Three weeks of walks in the evening, spirited talks over   
   coffee and spending time with the most fascinating   
   creature on the planet.  Fox would be so engrossed   
   in their conversations, he'd completely forget how   
   much he wanted to kiss her.  It would have been perfect   
   if not for the fact that Fox Mulder was a stranger to   
   Katie Scully.  Mathew Fox was her "fella."   
      
   Fox completed his morning ablutions and went downstairs   
   to breakfast.   
      
   "Good morning, Mother.  It's a rare pleasure to see   
   you up so early.  And Father, I'm honored you'd care   
   to breakfast with me."  He kissed his mother on the   
   cheek and bowed his head toward his father.   
      
   "You've grown so thin," his mother said.   
      
   "You always say that, Mother."   
      
   "Sit down, Fox," said his father.   
      
   Fox seated himself at the table and signaled for   
   Edgar to fill his cup.  The emptiness across the   
   table was a yawning chasm.   
      
   "Isn't this nice?  All of us together," Mother said.   
      
   Fox swallowed hard.  Somewhere Samantha was sitting   
   down to breakfast--he hoped.   
      
   "Nothing's more important than family," Father said.   
      
   Cook had produced rations enough for a regiment.  Fox   
   busied himself with a fresh brioche.   
      
   "You've been like a phantom," Mother said, with a   
   small smile.  "Out with your friends, night after   
   night."   
      
   "I was home on Tuesday," Fox reminded her.   
      
   "Mrs. Schuyler was heartbroken that you declined her   
   Arabian Nights social," Mother said.   
      
   "Diana was disappointed as well.  And her costume was,   
   er, quite authentic," said Father.   
      
   Mother cleared her throat, obviously less impressed   
   than her husband.   
      
   William Mulder leaned forward to address her, as if   
   Fox wasn't in the room.   
      
   "Well, think about it, Teena.  The boy's mad about   
   chorus girls, and he grumbles that the young ladies he   
   meets are flighty and dull.  The Fowley widow is   
   perfect for him."   
      
   "Yes, Bill, but we're talking about the mother of our   
   grandchildren.  Diana seems so... hard."   
      
   "Hard?  Well, makes a perfect match with his soft   
   head."  Fox pushed back his chair from the table, and   
   Father hurried to mollify him.  "I'm joking, son, of   
   course."   
      
   "And you're very amusing," Fox said.  "But I must be   
   off."   
      
   "But your breakfast!  Cook will be crushed," Mother   
   protested.   
      
   "That's my curse.  I can't make a move without   
   breaking someone's heart," Fox said, folding his   
   serviette and dropping it on the table.   
      
   "Fox!" His father's command was quiet but sharp.   
   "Diana is expecting you at a late supper tonight at   
   Delmonico's."   
      
   "And I'm not to disappoint her," Fox concluded.   
      
   His father gave a nod.   
      
   "You're a smart boy, Fox."   
      
   Fox could wait and ride to work in the car with   
   Father, but that was something he avoided even on   
   a good day.  He took the streetcar, and he'd been   
   at his desk a scant ten minutes when Morris Fletcher   
   sauntered into his office.   
      
   "Sorry, Mr. Mulder, but you're wanted in the back."   
   Fletcher didn't even try to hide his glee.   
      
   Father wouldn't be in so soon.  He knew it was DT who   
   had summoned him.   
      
   Fox dropped into the chair across the older man's   
   desk.   
      
   "No doubt I've disappointed you as well," he said.   
      
   "No, you have not."  Traut looked him in the eye, but it   
   wasn't a staring contest.  He was concerned and   
   curious.   
      
   "Then you're the only one," Fox said.   
      
   "You've never disappointed me, Fox.  At times you've   
   surprised me, but you've never disappointed me."   
      
   Traut had always been a good listener, but Fox resisted   
   the urge to air his grievances.   
      
   "Thank you for that.  Now, why did you want to see   
   me?"   
      
   "You're aware we're looking to extend ourselves   
   further into insurance," DT said.   
      
   "It's a strong industry," Fox agreed.   
      
   "I have an appointment with Zeus Insurance   
   Underwriters this afternoon.  I'm going to pass   
   it on to you."   
      
   "Why?" Fox asked.   
      
   "Two reasons.  First, you have an uncanny instinct   
   when it comes to money.  I tell you a cargo ship is   
   lost in the North Sea, and you tell me the price of   
   apples will go up in Indiana."   
      
   "But that's easy--"   
      
   "Easy for you, maybe.  But the second reason isn't   
   about profit, it's about people.  You can weigh a man   
   with your eyes.  I don't know how you do it, but it's   
   as if you see right through to his character."  Traut   
   leaned back in his chair.  "It's a gift, Fox, and one   
   I value highly."   
      
   "Thank you, Dewitt."   
      
   "Feeling some pressure at home?" Traut asked, kindly.   
      
   Fox shook his head.  What happened at the Mulders'   
   breakfast table should not become public conversation.   
      
   "Diana Fowley's a handsome woman," DT said.   
      
   "She is that," Fox agreed.   
      
      
   [continued in next message]   
      
   --- SoupGate-Win32 v1.05   
    * Origin: you cannot sedate... all the things you hate (1:229/2)