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Title: Anabelle 1990 Summary: Anabelle's 'father' dies and Mulder goes to New York City for the funeral and to make sure that Anabelle's all right. This is sort of an experiment from me. It's kind of like my cure for writer's block, which I've got again. I'm working backwards in the Anabelle series, trying to do one story for each year of Anabelle's life, from 1982 to 1998, which is the year the actual series starts. I'll warn you right now that these probably won't be too frequent, the actual series (the one with the shippy stuff ;) has precedence over this experiment. If you haven't read any of the stories in the series, don't worry, this is more like a prelude to it. But if you want to read them they're at my Website http://www.geocities.com/Area51/Meteor/7124/index.html Archive: Anywhere, Gossamer and Spookys especially Feedback: is always appreciated. RhiaRamsay@aol.com Disclaimer: Mulder is not mine. Anabelle Maeve Morgan is. July 23, 1990 Fox Mulder walked up the stairs with a purpose. He knew there were things back in D.C. waiting for him, his job, a girl, but right now this was the most important thing. He reached the large wooden door to the brownstone townhouse and pressed the doorbell, hearing it vaguely echo inside. There was a sound of footsteps, and then the door was pulled open by his twenty-year-old cousin Tamsin Coretti, who looked a little teary eyed, which was understandable. "Hey, Fox," she said, pulling him inside and into a hug. Mulder didn't bother to correct her on the name, they were family and never listened anyway. "Hey," Mulder said. "How's Aunt Kate holding up?" he asked, the next inevitable question. It was his aunt's husband, David Morgan, who was killed in a car accident. That was why they were all here, to attend a funeral. Tamsin backed out of the hug and shrugged. "Okay, I guess. She was on the phone trying to make all sorts of plans for the wake and the funeral. And with the hospital trying to find out when they're going to release the body. I think she's trying to keep her mind off of everything." Mulder nodded, understanding the reasoning. Tamsin sighed again. "Let's go downstairs, they're all in the kitchen." She led him down a flight of stairs into the spacious basement kitchen, where a good portion of the family was residing for the moment. Sitting around the kitchen table was the adults, Aunt Kate and her twin sister Brigid, his Aunt Mary and her husband Anthony Coretti. Mulder's own mother wasn't there like the rest of her sisters, but that was no surprise, she was overseas for the summer and probably didn't care much anyway. In various other positions around the rest of the room were the kids. Tamsin was sitting now on a recliner reading a magazine while her twelve year old twin brothers, John and Barrett, were on the floor and the couch respectively. Even younger was Brigid's eight-year old daughter Ariel who was also splayed out on the floor watching television. And sitting quietly in a corner reading a book was Kate's own daughter, another eight-year-old by the name of Anabelle Maeve Morgan. Anabelle was a fair-skinned little girl with dark brown hair who seemed to have a different air about herself than the rest of the kids. Anabelle was not what she seemed though, Mulder knew. He was one of the few who knew that because of a botched operation Kate was unable to have children of her own. He was also one of the fewer who knew that Anabelle wasn't really Kate and David's daughter at all, but actually the child of two unprepared college kids, one who didn't want the baby or the father, and the other not ready for the responsibilities of impending fatherhood. He sat down at one of the empty chairs at the table, leaning over to give Kate a supportive hug. "Thanks for coming up here," Kate sighed She looked utterly and totally drained, Mulder noted. Losing a loved one was hard on anyone he knew, and Kate was acting perfectly human in her reactions. "It's no problem," Mulder assured her. "Is there anything I can do to help?" he offered. Kate bit her lip and looked over at the group of kids in the other part of the kitchen, and then back at him. "Do you think you could talk to Anabelle? She hasn't said a word to me except for the barest civilities and I'm getting worried about her. You've always got along with her better than the rest of us, maybe you can pull her out of her shell long enough to see if she's relatively okay," Kate said. Mulder glanced over at Anabelle, still huddled in her pile of pillows in the corner reading a book with a green cover that seemed too bright for the somber tone of the day. He'd always had a soft spot for her, it probably stemmed from baby-sitting her often when she was little. When Anabelle was young, the first four years of her life, her and Aunt Kate had lived near Oxford University where he was (David stayed in the states most often because of business) and he was almost always available to watch her by his own choice. Either way he would do anything to help her. "I'll give it my best shot," he said, "but I can't guarantee anything." "It'll be a start," Kate said. With that Mulder got up again and walked over to the little girl in the corner. Mulder knelt down next to Anabelle, whose face was still bent over the book. "Hey," he said softly, trying not to scare her. Anabelle's blue eyes, normally vibrant and sparkling but now a dulled grey color, lifted up to look at him. "Hi," she said in a lifeless tone, and dropped her eyes back down to the book. "How have you been holding up through all of this?" was his next question, trying to come up with an answer that would appease Aunt Kate. Anabelle's eyes darted nervously around the room, lighting on each person for a moment. In a flash of intuition that made him a damn good profiler he figured that she would talk, just not here with anyone else in the room. "Hey you wanna go outside and finish this talk on the stoop?" he said. Anabelle nodded quickly, almost fearfully, and stood up. Not for the first time Mulder noticed how small she was. Her cousin Ariel sitting not ten feet away from her was only about a month younger than she was and already exceeded Anabelle in the height department. Mulder took one of her hands in his (the other was still clutching the book) and together they headed for the staircase. He walked up the stairs next to her, keeping his steps small so she could keep up. Soon they were at the front door and Mulder pushed it open, letting Anabelle walk out ahead of him. He then followed, making sure the door didn't suddenly lock behind them. Anabelle sat down on the second step, her flowery sun dress billowing around her. She rested her back against the top step and hugged the book tighter to her stomach. Mulder sat down next to her, feeling the heat from the concrete seeping through his jeans. Mulder wasn't exactly sure where to start, not knowing what to say in this sort of situation. Psychology textbooks gave you examples, but they never told you how hard it was when it was your own family. "What book are you reading?" he finally asked. Anabelle rested the book on her legs, her fingers stroking the cover. "'The Black Stallion Revolts'," she said quietly. Mulder shook his head. "I don't think I've ever read that one before," he said. "How far have you gotten in it?" "Chapter seventeen. It's really good so far and I just know something's gonna happen in this chapter," she said, still looking down at the book. Mulder nodded, still at a loss for what to say. Finally he decided to just get on with it. "You know your mom's really worried that you haven't been talking to her since the accident. She wants to know if you're okay." Anabelle moved her gaze to the street, lit by the fading light of the sky and of the street lights just coming on. "I'm fine," she sighed, but Mulder knew that she wasn't. "You know, somehow I don't believe that," he said. "I don't think anyone would be fine considering what you and your mom are going through." She whimpered softly under her breath and leaned over, resting her head on her knees. Then she turned to Mulder and looked up at him with worried eyes. "You have to promise you won't tell," she said seriously to him. "I won't," Mulder said. "Pinky swear?" Anabelle persisted. "Pinky swear," Mulder agreed, holding out his little finger to her. Anabelle hooked her finger around his and shook the hands once, sealing the promise. "Okay," Anabelle said, turning to look up at him. "I guess....see, I feel horrible that Dad died, I lost a dad and Mom lost her husband. But...I don't think...I don't think I feel as sad as I should when I know that's he's gone for ever." Mulder was puzzled. "What do you mean?" Anabelle scrunched her face up and leaned against the stair. "Well, I think that I feel like I lost a friend, but not a dad." Mulder wrapped an arm around her bony shoulders. He was guessing that she felt guilty because she thought she didn't feel as bad about her father dying as she thought she should. But there was still the why. "Why do you feel that way?" Anabelle sniffled, the conversation was starting to get to her and the tears were starting to trickle out of her eyes. "See, I love David a lot and I know he loves me, but he was always sort of...I dunno, like...not really close to me..." "Distant?" Mulder suggested. "Yeah, I think that's it...it was kinda like I was someone else's kid instead of his, so he was more like a friend then, but not really a dad. And now he's gone, and I'm feeling sad like I would if I lost a friend, but not my dad. Does that make sense?" Anabelle asked. Mulder reached over and pulled the little girl onto his lap and hugged her tightly. Anabelle was always too intuitive for her own good. Aunt Kate said it was a trait she inherited from him. He guessed that although David took care of Anabelle as well as anyone could, he couldn't get over the fact that she wasn't his biologically and that gave his actions towards her a not quite parental look. "Yeah, it makes sense," he sighed. "But you have to remember that he did love you." "I know," Anabelle said, by this time crying full force into his shirt. Mulder held her tightly, letting her cry as much as she needed. He rocked her slowly, feeling her slight weight sag against his body. Soon though the tears slowed to a stop, and her breathing became slower. She was sound asleep. Mulder stood up, being careful not to wake her and carried her back inside. He could hear the voices coming from the stairwell leading downstairs, but that wasn't where he was going. Instead he headed towards the stairs leading upwards, and through the doorway that lead to her bedroom. He was about to lay Anabelle on the bed, when she suddenly grabbed two fistfuls of his shirt to stay closer. "Sing me a song," she said in a half-asleep voice. Mulder looked down at her, still clutching to his shirt. It was a somewhat odd request, to the best of his knowledge she hadn't asked for anyone to sing to her since she was four. But he couldn't deny her the request, as bad as his singing voice was. He decided to use a song that he sang when she was very little to get her to the sleep. It was corny, yes, but it worked. 'A long long time ago I can still remember How that music used to make me smile And I knew that if I had my chance I could make those people dance And maybe they'd be happy for a while But February made me shiver With every paper I delivered Bad news on the doorstep I couldn't take one more step I can't remember if I cried When I read about his widowed bride But something touched me deep inside The day the music died....' Before he reached the end of the first verse she was sound asleep. Mulder laid her down on the bed, her fingers falling loosely away from his shirt. He brushed a few strands of dark hair off of her face and pulled the light, summer weight sheet around her. Satisfied that she was comfortable for the night Mulder walked out of the bedroom. He stopped though at the doorway to get one last look at her. When she was born he knew for sure that he wasn't ready for fatherhood. But now he was wondering if he just could be a father to her. Someday, he knew he'd like to give it a try. Well I hope you guys enjoyed this little side trip in the Anabelle series! 'The Black Stallion Revolts' is one of my favorite books too. I've mentioned it in fanfics before. ;) The song is 'American Pie' by Don McLean (I think. Either way it's not mine). The reason I copped out after the first verse was because there was no way in hell I was typing out all eight and a half minutes of it. *g*
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