|
Title: Anabelle 01. Mulder's Secret Summary: Mulder gets lectured by his aunt about a secret he should tell. This was actually the first fanfic story I really ever wrote (besides the post-Gethsemane one I handed in as a writing assignment in English class. I got an A on that one; I ain't complaining) but the first copy I sent into Gossamer got lost, so I took that chance to revise the story and fix a lot of continuity errors I made. I think it came out better this time. And a note to Shippers, don't worry, Anabelle is not the other woman in Mulder's life, as a matter of fact she has many Shipper beliefs. She wants to see Mulder and Scully together just as much as we do. Feedback-pretty please? The Addy is RhiaRamsay@aol.com Guess what's coming up next.... the Disclaimer!!! Ain't ya thrilled? (yeah, right) They're not mine. They're CC's, 1013, and Fox's. I do own Aunt Mary, Aunt Kate, and Anabelle, though controlling that girl is about as hard as controlling Mulder. This story is dedicated to Julie, who helped me a lot with the first version of this story, and who is also going to help me send another one of our friends, not to mention any names, but Courtney, to Shipper School. She still drinks Root Beer. Enough said. Saturday, February 18, 1998 Mulder grumbled as he cleared the plates off the table in the nearly abandoned restaurant. "Why is it that every time I come up here for a short visit, I'm forced to extend it because I'm roped into working?" he called out in the direction of the kitchen. A tall brunette woman in her early fifties walked out, wiping her hands on a dishtowel. "Because, Fox, I'm short on help tonight, and you're free labor," Mulder's aunt, Mary Coretti(her married name), said with a smirk on her face. Mulder grimaced. "It's Mulder, not Fox." "Whatever," Mary said. She turned to the end of the bar, where a small, dark haired girl sat on top of it tuning a guitar. "You, too, Anabelle, help clean up. Anabelle Morgan lifted her head up an brushed a wayward bang out of her eye that had slipped out of the ponytail holder. The high ponytail was just enough to keep the growing out bangs out of her eyes, but it didn't always work. "C'mon, Aunt Mary, I've been waiting tables all night!" she whined and turned a sad puppy dog face on her. Mary turned and shot a glare towards Mulder. "She's been hanging around you way too much." Mulder shrugged and went back to clearing off tables. "It's your job, Anabelle, you don't have a choice." Mary then walked back into the kitchen. Anabelle stuck her tongue out at the door, then turned to Mulder. "You think you got it bad, she ropes me into working too, like she does every weekend, I don't get paid because it's a family favor, and I still get a ton of work!" Mulder laughed and placed the plates on the bar next to her. "Get used to it. I've been doing this since high school. I think it's family tradition, started by Gramma and Grampa when they roped our parents into unpaid labor also," he said, the small, familiar lie falling off his tongue easily. Luckily she didn't have any clue as to what he was lying about. Anabelle groaned and laid her forehead down on the neck of the guitar. Mulder waved at it. "So what's with the practicing? It's almost three in the morning." She looked up at him. "This coming from the guy who keeps calling me at four in the morning." "It's not my fault you don't sleep at night," he retorted. Actually it was, but that's another story. "Seriously." Anabelle picked her head up off the guitar and plucked a few chords. "It's for my western civ class. Julie-I told you about her-mouthed off to the teacher that I actually knew how to play something, so for a test grade I get to play something rather than do the report." She shrugged. "At least I got to choose the song. We had to something ethnic, something from the region where our families came from, so I figured that Ireland was close enough to Scotland. The Cranberries are actually good." She trailed off, rolling her eyes. Mulder propped himself up on a bar stool. "Let me see the guitar." Anabelle raised an eyebrow. "You still remember how to play?" "I taught you," he shot back. She handed him the guitar. "Well, while you're at it tune the damn thing please? I just can't get the notes right." "Gotcha." Mary looked out at the two of them playing around on Anabelle's guitar. To the unknowing, it appeared that Anabelle was closer to her closer to her cousin Mulder than her own father when he was alive. She grinned to herself. If they only knew. Then, the smile faded. Unfortunately, Anabelle was one of the unknowing. That was a problem that was going to have to be solved, and soon. As to when she was told, though, was Mulder's decision. But a little prodding from a pesky aunt never hurt. She looked at the stack of dirty dishes sitting next to Mulder on the bar and smiled once more. Time for that little talk. She banged on the frame of the door. "Hey, Fox, get those plates in here and start loading up the dishwasher!" Mulder turned around and scowled at her. "It's Mulder, Aunt Mary, not Fox." Anabelle rolled her eyes. "Give it a rest, Mulder, she won't change." "Damn right," Mary said. "Now get in here." "Yeah, yeah, yeah," Mulder said and followed her into the kitchen. He was beginning to load the dishes into the dishwasher when Mary put a hand on his arm to stop him. "What?" "Come here, Fox, we've got to have a little talk." She motioned over to a set of chairs and Mulder followed, unsure of what was going on. "About what?" he asked, still puzzled about what was going on. Mary leaned back in her chair and crossed her legs. "You're going to have to tell her." Confusion was apparent on his face until it finally dawned on him. He shook his head rapidly. "Oh, no, no way!" Before he could say anymore Mary cut him off. "This is your daughter we're talking about here. She deserves to know the truth." Mary knew she was going to work hard for this one. He'd have to tell her or else the rest of the plan she and he sister, Kate Morgan, had devised. Mulder started to talk again. "What am I supposed to tell her? Look, Anabelle, David Morgan's not your father, I am. Why did you go to stay with them? Well, because a twenty year old on his way to college is definitely not the best person to be taking care of a baby. And, also, your birth mother didn't want anyone to know she'd had a kid, so she decided that the only way I'd even get to see you was if someone else in my family took you, but that you can never know who your real parents are. And, oh yeah, your birth mother's the reason you have all those scars on your back!" "Are you finished?" Mary asked. Mulder leaned back in his chair and crossed his arms over his chest. "Yes." "Good. Now you listen to me. She's your daughter. She has a right to know who she really is. It's also raising questions from the family. Well, to be more accurate your cousins. They're the ones we've been lying to these nearly sixteen years Anabelle's been alive. Tam had asked me once a while ago why you and Anabelle always spent so much time together. I couldn't tell her the truth because your asshole ex-girlfriend decided not to tell anyone she'd even had a kid. And even after she killed herself no chose to go against her wishes because she put it in her suicide note. You've got to tell her, before this whole thing gets out of hand," Mary finished, trying to get her point across. Mulder bit his lip. Mary could tell that he was weakening. "What if she hates me after this?" he asked with a worried look on his face. Mary looked thoughtful. "I don't think she'll hate you for something you had no control over. She might get mad at first, you get the same way when people hold things back from you, but I think, in the end, she'll be happier if she knew the truth." Mulder took a deep breath. He was coming to one of the major decisions of his life. There were pros and cons to each choice. In the end, though, the best decision, probably for Anabelle more than anyone else, would be to tell her the truth. He ran a hand over his face in defeat. "All right, I'll tell her. But I have to do it on my own time. I can't do it now." Mary smiled. "Good." It would be even better if you told her before March 15, she thought. Mulder stood up and walked back to the dishwasher. "I just hope she's not mad," he said, almost as an afterthought. From behind the closed kitchen door Anabelle listened with her ear pressed to it. "I'm not mad," she whispered to the empty restaurant. To tell the truth Anabelle had always suspected something like that. She remembered pictures of herself and David. He'd always seemed hesitant to get too close to her emotionally. After he'd died she had pretty much adopted Mulder as a surrogate father seeing as he was actually the relative she was closest to, even closer than her cousin Ariel, who was only a month younger than her. It was pretty strange when it came to David. Many times when she called him 'dad' it would always take her calling him a few times to actually get him to respond. Then, he'd always look surprised when she called him that. What really did it for her was the fact that she didn't even look like David. Most of her friends, from what she saw, resembled their parents. She only looked like her mother, actually Aunt Kate, a little bit, and she didn't look like David at all. She did look like Mulder though, now that she thought about it. Right down to the same damn birthmark on her right cheek. The only thing out of joint was her height. The rest of the family was very tall. Ariel had a good four inches on her. Anabelle, though, barely hit 5'2". Her musings were interrupted by Aunt Mary saying "It's too quiet out there. She's got to be up to something." At that Anabelle dashed away from the door and hopped back up on the bar, picking her guitar up on the way. When Aunt Mary pushed open the kitchen door, all she saw was Anabelle still sitting on the end of the bar, still fiddling around with her guitar. Anabelle turned around when she heard the door open and saw Aunt Mary walking out. "You guys almost finished in there?" she asked. "Yes," Mulder said as he followed her out of the kitchen running a hand over his face. He looked so tired, Anabelle thought, but it's more of an emotionally tired. That conversation must have really drained him. "Hey, I think I've finally got the song done," Anabelle said conversationally. Mary smirked. She knew what the song was. She also thought that it was time for Fox to start facing up to his feelings for a certain redheaded partner of his. Maybe a little music would help him realize what he'd been denying but everyone else already knew. "Yeah, maybe we can play it at your wedding," Mary chimed in with an evil grin on her face. Mulder got a puzzled look, then blushed, then got mad when it finally kicked in what Mary had inferred. "Look I've told you before, Scully and I are just friends. I care about her, but I don't love her, at least not in the way you two want," he finished with a rush of breath. This was the argument he used on himself about his feelings for Scully, but he was slowly realizing that this argument wasn't working too well anymore. Something was going to have to be done about that, and soon. Anabelle piped up. "Yeah, right. You expect me to buy that then you've got the bridge real cheap too. C'mon, Mulder, that's got to be one of the biggest crocks of shit I've ever heard in my life!" "Watch your mouth, Anabelle," Aunt Mary said automatically. Anabelle rolled her eyes. "Whatever. Just listen to the song. I need you guys' opinions on whether this actually sounds good or I borrow your gun and shoot Julie on Monday. Okay?" Mulder moved to a barstool and Mary sat down at one of the tables. "Do your worst worst," Mulder said. "And don't even think I'm letting you anywhere near that gun." With that, Anabelle began to sing. She had a nice voice, made even better by the fact she enjoyed what she was doing. Even though she wouldn't ever admit she liked to sing. "Oh. my life is changing everyday In every possible way. And oh, my dreams, It's never quiet as it seems, Never quiet as it seems. I know I've felt like this before, But now I'm feeling it even more Because it came from you. And then I open up and see The person falling here is me, A different way to be. I want more, impossible to ignore, Impossible to ignore. And they'll come true, impossible not to do, Impossible not to do. And now I tell you openly, You have my heart so don't hurt me. You're what I couldn't find. A totally amazing mind, So understanding and so kind; You're everything to me. Oh, my life is changing everyday Every possible way. And oh, my dreams, it's never quiet as it seems, Cause you're a dream to me, Dream to me." "Very nice, Anabelle," Aunt Mary said with a smile on her face. Anabelle looked over at Mulder, who had a rather spaced out look on his face. She could probably place bets on what he was thinking and win a fortune. She was right. Mulder didn't want to admit it, but the song did hit home. He kept trying his damnedest to keep the 'just friends' rule running through his head, but every day, a little something kept pushing his thoughts from the 'just friends' side to the 'something more' side. He'd been having this argument with himself almost since Scully had began on the X-Files. And it was getting hard to keep up with this little thing called denial. He was distracted by the napkin hitting him in the face that Anabelle threw at him. "Thinking, Mulder?" she smirked. Before he could answer, though, she let out an enormous yawn. "That's it, Anabelle," Aunt Mary said. "You're going home. You're too tired to do me any good." Anabelle yawned again. "You've got no complaints from me," she said sleepily. Aunt Mary turned to Mulder. "Do you think you could take her home? I've still got some work to do around here, and I don't want her sleeping on top of the bar again." "No problem," Mulder said, and helped the sleepy girl down from her perch on the bar. "Do you need someplace to stay, Fox?" Mary asked. "You could stay at my place, or Kate could take you in for the night." Mulder shook his head. "It's okay. I've got a hotel room. I'll just drive her home and head for there. I'll be back for breakfast in the morning, though." He walked over to where Anabelle was packing up the guitar, nearly passing out on top of the case. "C'mon," Mulder said. "Let's get you to bed." "Whatever," Anabelle muttered. The two walked out the door to the small parking lot. Mary watched them, and when Mulder finally got Anabelle into the car, she turned to the small phone under the bar and dialed a familiar number. Someone finally picked up. -Anabelle, please don't tell me you got arrested- someone said sleepily. "I think that's her father you're talking about," Mary shot back. Mary's sister, Kate Morgan, sighed. -Sorry, Mare. I just hate being waken up at night. Usually it's Anabelle asking for a ride home from somewhere. Besides, I wasn't really sleeping anyway.- "Still reading up on Africa?" Mary questioned. -Yeah. It's a chance of a lifetime for an archeologist. A two year, fully funded grant from the Boston Museum of World History. Only problem is a certain fifteen year old won't be going. Did you talk to Fox?- "Yeah," Mary said. "He's weakening, but he's still got to tell her before you leave, which'll probably be the hardest part." -Or else all our efforts will be for nothing. Hopefully it's sooner rather than later because Fox is going to need a crash course in parenting, especially with her.- "They're too much alike," Mary laughed. "But I'm not worried. Because if he doesn't tell her I will, and then we ship her off to D.C." Kate groaned. -You have such a way with words, Mare. I'll be over for breakfast tomorrow, 'kay? Good night,- she said, and hung up the phone. Mary hung up her end and turned back to the kitchen. The next few weeks were going to be anything but dull. Mulder pulled up the car to the curb outside of his Aunt Kate's brownstone. It was actually hard to call her and her twin sister, Aunt Brigid, because they were the unexpected ones in the family, and therefore only about ten years older than himself. By now, Anabelle was dead to the world and slumbering softly in the front passenger seat. He got out and walked around to the other side of the car and quietly opened the door. He picked her up like a little baby and attempted to shut the door behind him quietly, but it didn't exactly work. Luckily Anabelle didn't stir. He'd drop the guitar off at Aunt Mary's in the morning. Anabelle was so small in his arms. Her mother certainly wasn't like that. He was still after the long legged types at that point in time. 'Unlike short red-heads, now, Mulder?' he thought, but then banished that thought. Actually, Anabelle reminded him of Scully, all that strength wrapped up in one tiny package. When he got up to the front door, Aunt Kate was there to meet him. "Need any help with her?" she asked, holding the door open. "Nah," he said. "What're you doing up?" he asked. It was after three, and those hours were usually only kept by him. "More research. I've got a big dig coming up in about a month, and I like to know a little more than the background they usually give us," Kate said, rubbing her forehead wearily. Mulder looked into the living room where stacks of books were piled up on the coffee table and spilling over onto the floor. "Okay, well, I'm just going to take her up to bed and then be back to the hotel. Hard labor makes you tired," he smirked, and started up the stairs. Kate just rolled her eyes and turned back to her books. Mulder kicked the door to Anabelle's room open, and then gently placed her down on her bed with its still unmade sheets. The room kind of resembled his own as a teen, from the multitude of science fiction paraphernalia to the baseball and basketball stuff. But mixed in with that stuff was the stuff of an original teenage girl, from her hard earned collection of the Black Stallion book series, to the passion she had (but wouldn't admit) for scented lotions, bath gels, body sprays, and a whole box full of flavored lipsticks and glosses. He sat down next to her on the bed, stroking the dark hair that had fully fallen out of it's ponytail. "I'll tell you soon," he whispered. "You deserve to know, and I'd like to get to know you as my daughter, and not just as my cousin." He bent down and kissed her on the cheek. "Good night, Belle," he said, using the nickname that usually earned most people a punch in the stomach from her. Mulder got up and walked out of the room, stopping for a glance back at her. Little did he know what the next few weeks were holding for him, Scully, and Anabelle. End Notes: The song is Dreams, by the Cranberries, and the idea to use it actually came from the story "Chance to Change" which is good. Go read it. Part two...Oh, who knows right now. It MAY depend on the feedback I get (hint, hint). Things I Learned On My Trip To New Orleans 1. The Hale Boggs Federal Building must have had the same architect as the FBI building, because they're both as ugly. 2. It is not a good idea to contemplate stealing the lampposts from right outside the U.S. customs house. 3. Elvis is not dead but is now a tour guide in New Orleans. 4. There is some idiot who felt it necessary to write 'Trust No One' on Marie Laveau's tomb. "True love, it's the greatest thing in the world." "Men will fight bravely and be heroes, but for a last ditch defense against any odds...get a mother."
|