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 1910 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 - Katherine Mulder's story. Part 18
"Such beautiful hair, Madame. A crown of glory, as
they say."
"Thank you, Pierre."
"I should not be telling you this, but only yesterday
Mademoiselle Cortlandt, she asked me to make her the
hair like yours."
"Miss Cortlandt's hair is lovely as it is," said
Katie.
"You are too kind, Madame, but I thank you," said
Pierre modestly.
Katie couldn't remember Lillian Cortlandt's latest
hairstyle. Something elaborate, no doubt, held in
place with jeweled combs and pins. Her compliment,
though, was no more of a deception than Pierre's
French accent. She remembered him quite distinctly as
her father's old barber, Peter Boulay of Delancey
Street.
"If she knew how long it takes to get it dried and
curled, I'm sure she'd think twice," Katie said. The
first time she'd entered Pierre's exclusive shop,
she'd felt positively sinful to be paying so much for
someone to arrange her hair. In no time, she'd come
to view Pierre's services as a necessity. Planning
and establishing the clinic was taking up every ounce
of energy that didn't go toward her daughter and
husband, and the hours she spent with Pierre were a
rest and a relief.
"Madame is fortunate. For most ladies, it needs
peroxide, henna and false curls to have the beautiful
hair like yours."
Katie was going to answer with a platitude about
vanity, but instead she frowned. Even without bleach
or hair additions, her "crown of glory" was a decided
nuisance.
"Pierre . . . I've been thinking about lopping it all
off," she said.
Pierre put down the curling iron and took a step
backwards.
"I believe that could be most becoming," he said,
after a moment of study.
"You do?"
"And what I cut, I could make for you hairpieces.
When you want it long, it is long. But for the
everyday, it is short."
"Do it," she commanded.
She felt freedom with the first slice of his shears,
and then some regrets. Pierre hummed with pride as he
worked, snipping carefully, pausing frequently to
consider his next move.
"It's very short," Katie observed.
"Oui. Short and blunt, a frame for your face."
Indeed, it curved around her cheekbones, the auburn strands
grazing Katie's jawline. The curls, now freed from the
weight of almost two feet of hair, were like a bright cloud.
It was both wonderful and shocking.
Kate hoped she hadn't made a mistake, and consoled
herself that it was only hair and would grow again.
"Please tell all the world where your hair was
styled," Pierre reminded her as she left the shop.
Her head felt noticeably lighter and her neck felt
cool as she got into the Rolls. She couldn't decide
if she liked the new look. She wondered how Mulder
would react.
"Dr. Vitigliano's office," she directed Dunham, the
chauffeur, before he closed her door.
"Yes, madam," he said.
Vincent had agreed to assist her in starting the
clinic, although he had yet to accept directorship.
Katie tried to entice him with the promise that they
could provide any service he deemed worthwhile, but he
professed himself unequal to the position.
Katie had to wait for Vincent in his consultation room,
which gave her time to read through his latest proposals.
Her years in the settlement house and her visits to the
tenements had given her more than an introduction into
poverty and squalor, but Vincent had succeeded in
shocking her.
"Busy morning," he explained when he joined her at
last. He glanced at Katie, his face betraying his
surprise at her appearance, though he said nothing.
"My God, Vincent, I had no idea such things existed,"
she said, holding up his handwritten notes.
He sighed as he sat down behind his large cherrywood
desk.
"Well, you encouraged me to tell you what was needed.
I don't suppose your husband will want his wife or his
money associated with people like this."
"People like this? They're children!"
"Only in years." He looked suddenly apologetic. "I'm
sorry I've upset you. But you did press me to tell
you about everyone who needed help."
"It's monstrous, Vincent. Children working as
prostitutes--girls, and boys too! We're going to put
a stop to this."
"By opening a clinic? Katie, this clinic will take
everything you have to give it, and maybe more. Don't
try to take on the whole world, because you can only
fail."
Vincent's resigned calm was unnerving, but she knew he
was being realistic. Even Mulder's limitless money
couldn't cure every ill. Katie began to wonder if she
had the experience or the expertise to establish and
run the clinic. She knew nursing, and Vincent knew
medicine, but maybe that wasn't enough.
She needed someone with the brains, strength and
humankindness to turn the clinic into a reality. Most
days Katie returned home to take luncheon with her
mother-in-law, but today she decided to pay a call on
a wealthy philanthropist of her acquaintance.
"Mulder and Traut," she told Dunham, as he held the
car door for her.
Morris Fletcher looked up from his desk as she walked
in.
"Good morning, Mrs. Mulder. I'll tell Mr. Mulder that
you're here," Fletcher greeted her. He sounded
sullen rather than cheeky, and Katie guessed that he'd
been the recent recipient of a dressing-down. When
Fletcher picked up the telephone, rather than rapping
on the door, Katie knew that Mulder wasn't alone.
Nevertheless, she didn't have long to wait before
Mulder threw open the door. A young man nodded
politely as he left the office.
"Keep me apprised, Alex," Mulder called over her
shoulder as he ushered her in.
"I hoped you'd have time to see me," Katie said. It
wasn't her habit to venture into his domain.
"Always. See you, admire you, worship at your feet..."
Indeed, he seemed positively fascinated.
"Oh! I got a new hairstyle," she said, turning her
head.
"So I noticed," he said. "It's different. But I
like it."
"I'm glad."
"It makes me want to kiss your neck."
Katie laughed. She had worried he'd be displeased.
"All right. Just one," she teased.
Mulder stood behind her, his hands circling her waist.
She felt his warm breath on her bare neck followed by
his soft lips. A tiny moan escaped her lips. The
return of physical closeness had been a welcome relief
for Katie. It was hard to remember why she'd had any
[continued in next message]
--- SoupGate-Win32 v1.05
* Origin: you cannot sedate... all the things you hate (1:229/2)
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