A Granted Wish - Part Four by Danielle

A Granted Wish IV by Danielle

STORIES ON THIS SITE ARE INTENDED FOR ADULTS ONLY

Disclaimer: This part has no rating. I promise it won't offend anyone, except perhaps, avid anti-M/S romancers. But you guys wouldn't be reading this story. For you guys in it for the unbridled sensuality, the hot passion, please take the time to read this part. No sparks fly, but the plot IS advanced. Thanks, I appreciate your patience.
As for 1013 and Fox, I really mean no harm by appropriating your characters for a few hours of fun. I promise to give them back to you unscathed. Enjoy, Danielle.

A Granted Wish (Part IV) by Danielle

Seratown Plantation August 29, 6pm

Mulder watched amusedly as Dana batted away another mosquito. Every night she fought the same losing battle with the bloodthirsty insects but refused to change her tactics. He leaned over and once again tried to offer his partner the spray can of insect repellent.

"You are being eaten alive. Suck it up, Dana, and put some of this on."

Her lower lip pouched out in a childish pout, "You're not wearing any. I don't see why I am the only one being picked on by these damn vampires. It's not fair. Anyway, I don't like the smell of that stuff. It's worse than cheap perfume."

A low, melodic voice interrupted their playful bickering, "Sugah, Ah haf somedun for yah. Itall keep dos suckers away from jou. An'it don't smell bad, neither. Com'on in de house an' we'll put some on jou. Otay?" A slim fingered hand pulled Dana to her feet and the two women left the porch. Before Dana disappeared into the kitchen, she turned in the doorway and stuck a saucy tongue out at Mulder. He made a playful obscene gesture to show her what he thought of her pink tongue and laughed delightedly when she blushed and ducked quickly out of sight. When she had completely vanished from his line of vision, he turned back to the scenery. His keen eyes swept over the same landscape Miss Eloise ignored a few days earlier, not really noticing anything. He took a long sip from from his Southern Comfort laced iced tea and tried to dispassionately evaluate his and Scully's time in Seratown.

Scully and he had traveled to Seratown to question Miss Eloise Anaje and to discover any information pertinent to the case. Yet, somehow they had spent the past few days not working on the case, not at all. Instead, they spent their days volunteering at the community center and their nights, lazing on the porch and enjoying stolen moments alone. They were staying at Miss Eloise's house rather than their usual motel and spent the better half of the day in her company and neither one of them had made a stab at questioning her. No, he took that back, his ever vigilant partner had tried to question Miss Eloise but had been successfully distracted by a discussion of opera, of all things. Mulder took another sip of tea and bewilderedly shook his head. What was wrong with the two of them? Where was their professionalism, their dedication to the job?

Another thing that nagged him was the fact that Asst. Director Skinner had not tried contacting them. Mulder know they were taking an abnormally long time on this case, especially without updating Skinner, yet no angry phone calls. Skinner had on previous occasions given them leeway but this was ridiculous. Mulder drained the last of iced tea, his sweet tooth appreciating the sticky sweetness of the Soco. He licked his lips and wondered what was taking Miss Eloise and Scully so long. These past few days had spoiled him and he didn't like for Scully to be out of his sight for too long. And five minutes was definitely too long.

They hadn't had any sexual play since that pleasantly raunchy interlude in the car and he vaguely regretted their decision to postpone an intensification in their relationship. He understood Dana's desire to explore their relationship without the burdensome presence of a case, but a tiny throwback male side of him wanted her right now, damn the consequences. He guessed he couldn't complain too much because she had acquiesced to his request (pleading really) that he get to spend the nights with her. Every night when the house was quiet, Fox sneaked into Dana's room and slept with her in his arms. Oddly enough he really slept, too. *Shit*, he did it again. Just when he started thinking clearly about work, he was distracted by thoughts of Dana. It was as if something did not want him thinking about anything other than her. Not that he minded but he was getting damned tired of feeling manipulated by unseen forces.

Disturbed by the direction of his thoughts, he began to silently chant the name "Roland" to himself. He wasn't going to let this place distract him any longer. He would tell Scully about his suspicions later that night when they were in bed.

When the two ladies strolled back onto the porch, Mulder made a concerted effort to hide his discomfort. It wasn't too difficult with the heady presence of Scully. She smelled pleasantly of lemon verbana and he grabbed her hand to sniff at her wrist, "Yummy, you smell good enough to eat. What the hell did you rub on yourself, lemon pie?"

She shot him a droll look, "Ha. Ha. You're so funny. You just can't handle being upstaged. Told you I wasn't going to have to wear that foul smelling stuff. Miss Eloise gave me a lotion that she made. Bet you wish you had some too. Mulder?" Dana waited expectantly for a smart-assed comeback for her erstwhile partner and was worried when he failed to answer her.

The truth was he had tuned Scully out and was staring rather fixedly at Miss Eloise who in turn gazed serenely back at him. Dana recognized the looks for what they were, a contest of wills, a return to normalcy. It was a slap in the face. Their idyllic reprieve was over; it was time to to get back to the case. Mulder was reverting back to self.

Unlike Mulder, she hadn't forgotten about the case but had purposely pushed it to the back of her mind. Indulging in unaccustomed selfishness, Dana had decided to enjoy Mulder's unprecedented lightheartedness. She ruthlessly suppressed any guilt over their unprofessionalism and spent seven lovely days learning about and enjoying her quasi-lover. She and Fox had splashed paint on each other while helping the volunteers paint the community center, they had argued about books and movies. He had explained the finer points of ice hockey and she showed him how to trap crayfish. Once they even snuck off to the plantation's dilapidated gazebo to engage in some youthful necking. And every night she fell asleep curled spoon fashion in his arms. No, she hadn't stopped to question Mulder's uncustomary gaiety because she didn't want to spoil anything. So when Miss Eloise and the girls failed to mention the case, she took it as her cue to keep quiet. If *they* didn't mind, there was really nothing to hurry her and Mulder along.

She wearily pushed the sweaty strands of hair off her neck and vainly wished for a breeze. However, the only sound that broke the stillness of the muggy night was the humming of the locusts and the rustling of the night animals. Mulder had stopped staring at Miss Eloise and was making small talk about the Louisiana heat and the merits of ceiling fans as opposed to air conditioning. Dana shook her head, did Mulder really think his nonsense about the weather would keep Miss Eloise from noticing his evaluating sidelong glances? Sometimes Dana wondered where exactly did Mulder complete his training, at a camp for the blind? Dana bit back a sigh and glanced at the leather watch strapped to her wrist. It was a quarter to midnight. She could put it off no longer. She would have to tell Mulder about Roland and her connection to him and hope for the best that everything would not be ruined. If she went to bed now, she knew it wouldn't be long before Fox followed her. He would want to talk about the case. She would tell him then.

Somewhat settled by her decision, no matter how unpalatable, she pushed herself to her feet. Two pairs of eyes looked expectantly at her, both seeing through her fake yawn, "This heat is too much for me. I think I will turn in now."

Miss Eloise smiled sadly and said in her liquid voice, "You do what you think is best, Dana. You do what you think is best."

Mulder and Scully gaped at her, surprised by the absence of the drawl. Registering their surprise, Miss Eloise laughed, "God, you don't think I speak like Scarlett O'Hara all the time, do you? How tiresome. I only do it for strangers because they seem to expect it. But you two aren't strangers, are you? To me or to each other." She bit back a grin when four eyebrows arched imperiously into the air, demanding further explication. She waved a desultory hand, soundlessly denying their request. She merely shifted her unaccustomed bulk and said, "Both of you turn in and leave an old woman to her peace. I have to get ready and that requires concentration."

Before they could ask get ready for what, she slid them an unreadable glance and posed her own query, "You didn't really think I didn't know you two slept together, did you? Frankie and Grace told you I was clairvoyant. Not that one has to be psychic to sense the undercurrents between the two of you." Her grin threatened to split her face as she examined the two flaming faces before her, "Silly things. Well, get to bed. You have a lot to discuss and it'll be easier snuggled under the covers. Soon, the devil man will interfere and things will be difficult again." Miss Eloise turned from them and closed her eyes. Mulder and Scully watched her for a few more moments, waiting to see if she would explain further but she kept quiet. The stood like sentinels until she began to lightly snore, the two partners went inside and climbed the stairs to their rooms.

They went into their individual rooms to prepare for bed. Dana sat on the edge of her bed in her nightclothes waiting for Mulder to come to her. He entered her room fifteen minutes later, wearing his modified sleep attire of cutoff sweat pants and noting else. He had also freshly shaved. She knew he did that so he would not scrape her sensitive skin during the night. She did not say anything as he approached her, just gazed at the twisting hands in her lap. A swathe of red hair swung forward, obscuring her face from his view.

She flinched when his hand pushed the hair away so he could freely kiss her neck and cheek. Noticing her active hands, he placed his over them to still their motions, "What is it, Dana? What has gotten you so upset? The fact that Miss Eloise knows we sleep together?"

She shook her head no.

He pressed further, upset by her continued silence, "It's the case, isn't it? You remembered too with all that stuff Miss Eloise was saying. Do you feel guilty that we have been so negligent about solving the case?" He bent his head, trying to peer into her eyes, "Because you shouldn't. I mean, we should have been working on the case, but I don't want you to regret what happened between us. What is happening between us. You don't regret it, do you?" He glanced anxiously at her and was surprised to see a beet red color flood her face.

Mulder stilled. He intuitively knew that it as time, "What are you thinking about, Scully? Is it the priest? Are you ready to tell me about your relationship with him?"

Agitated, she stood from the bed and walked to the window. The moonlight streamed in, highlighting her body through the silky nightgown she wore. Louisiana wilderness meet her eyes and offered no answers. She turned to Mulder and broke her silence, "How did you know I knew Roland?" She looked away and whispered to herself, "I didn't even know I did."

He shrugged, feigning a nonchalance he was far from feeling, "I saw how you reacted that night in the club when the girls told us about him. I saw how rattled you were and Scully, nothing rattles you. I also remembered that you told me you went to a private Catholic school called Le Sacre Couer when you lived in New Orleans."

He grinned wryly, "I may not know French, Scully, but it doesn't take a brain surgeon to figure out that Le Sacre Couer in English is the Sacred Heart. That's the place where Ms. Chen said Father O'Shaunessy was preaching. I put two and two together and came up with four."

"Yes, but that doesn't explain why you think I know Father O'Shaunessy. There is a fourteen year time lapse between the time I went to school there and the time he preached there."

"That's what stumped me at first. But you were really distraught that night and I couldn't let go of the feeling that is had something to do with the priest. So I decided to do a little investigating. That Thursday, while you were busy avoiding me, I went to visit your old Head Mother. Sister Madgalene told me about a young priest who taught at the school when you were attending. She mentioned how friendly the two of you were and how you would spend hours discussing theology and the myths connected to Catholicism. It seemed you had a keen interest in the theological paranormal."

He paused, his tone diffident, " I wonder why you hate discussing the paranormal with me so much. What did he have that I don't, Dana?"

Dana pensively ran her suddenly moist palms down the sides of her thighs. She ached at pain underlying his tone and wanted to comfort him. But she *had* to know what he knew first. She turned from him, not wanting to see the confused hurt in his eyes any longer, "What else did she tell you? Did she realize the Roland of today was the same man who taught there fourteen years ago? His name was different."

Mulder resisted repeating his question about the paranormal. He knew he wasn't going to get an answer from her and even if he did, he wasn't sure he wanted to hear it. Instead he reclined back on his elbows and sought to ease *her* fears, "I don't think so. Sister Maggie remarked on the physical and personality similarities between the two men, but it was only made in passing. It meant more to me than it did to her. Although, she did laugh and say for a while she thought they were the same person. But the priest who taught at the school when you were there was thirty-five years old and would be edging on fifty now. Whereas the Roland that preached at the school a few months ago was no older than thirty."

"Did she tell you his name?"

He knew who she referred to, "Yes. Alain Brastoine."

She looked over her shoulder, her face somber, "Alain Brastoine. Alstair Braxton. Too much of a stretch? Am I becoming paranoid, Mulder. Seeing things that don't exist?"

"I think that I'm the wrong person to ask, Scully. But to you answer your question, no, I don't think it is too much of a stretch." Suddenly he sat up and thumped his fists against his legs, "Dammit Scully, what the *fuck* is going on? Who is Roland O'Shaunessy, not to mention where is he? Or for that matter where are the other two. Do you know? What aren't you telling me?"

She had jumped, startled by the suddenness of his action, but not surprised by the frustration coating his voice. He was doubting her. "Honestly, Mulder, I don't know. I wish to God that I did, then maybe I could tell you more. But I do have something to show you." She walked over to her dressed and plucked something from it. She walked over to him and perched on the bed, handing him a photograph. He looked at it to see four young women smiling up at him. He scanned it closely, noting with clinical detachment that they were very attractive and happy. But it was the one with blond curls that captured his eye.

Scully watched him looking at the photo. She saw where his eye landed, "The two on the edges, as you probably recognize, are the Francesca Reina and Grace Chen. The one with black hair and green eyes is Audrey Giatta, I checked the files to make sure. And the blond, well, the blond is Gina Ricci."

Mulder's eyes widened and he brought the photo closer to his face, "But that can't be. She looks exactly like Mr. Braxton's secretary. Exactly. But we talked to her eight days ago when she told us Mr. Braxton would be out of town. Gina Ricci's been dead for weeks. You examined her body, right?"

Dana nodded slowly but her eyes remained unsure, "I didn't have the head, but according to the prints, blood type, the missing tonsils, and other identifying marks, the body I saw was Gina Ricci's. The one that is in that picture. The one we saw at the detective's office."

Mulder stared incredulously at his partner, "Scully, what are you saying? Do you think that the secretary and the Gina Ricci are the same person. What about twins? Couldn't Ms. Ricci have a twin?"

She shrugged, unable to shake off her suspicions, "Maybe. But, Mulder, not one of our files on the dead girls mentioned a twin sister. Don't you think that information would have been included? And what about Alain Brastoine and Roland O'Shaunessy? What if they are the same man? We know there is no way they could be twins. What about them?"

"Alain Brastoine did not have any family. He told me that his mother died from complications during his birth. His father was unable to handle the grief and killed himself as few weeks later. Since his birth was so traumatic, Alain was a sickly child and was never adopted. Instead, he lived at a Catholic orphanage. Both his health and his love for the Church deepened and he eventually decided to join the seminary. There is no way that he had a twin, at least not one that survived."

Mulder ran his hands through his hair, hoping the action would calm him. It didn't. "What the hell is going on, Scully? What the hell!" He chewed on his lip, deciding whether or not to ask the question that really bothered him. His emotions swiftly defeated his reason and the question poured forth, "This still doesn't explain why you didn't tell me about Roland or Alain that night in the club. Why, Dana, why didn't you tell me about him? Was there. . .is there something between the two of you? Some feelings?" His trailed off, waiting anxiously for her reply. His heat beat loudly, and he inanely wondered if she could hear it.

She knew what he really was asking. Her poor partner, so unused to being loved. So unsure if he deserved to be loved. She ran a soft hand down his cheek, soothing with her touch, her words, "Fox, I didn't love him. I don't love him. I don't *know* him. Roland, I mean. You see the only Roland I knew was a figment of Missy's imagination. I didn't want to tell you about *Alain*," she swallowed, embarrassed by her confession, "I didn't want to tell you about him because I was ashamed at my foolishness. I was flustered because those feelings were so similar to what I feel for you. And I couldn't deal with that."

"I don't understand what you mean."

"I never loved Alain Brastoine not like. . .well, I never loved him. I did have a crush on him, which when you are sixteen seems like love. But he never treated me as anything more than a younger sister. He was affectionate, caring, but very distant. His beliefs were what consumed him. He was out to save humankind from its sins. I was just a soul he touched upon the way."

Mulder opened his mouth to speak but she pressed a finger to his lips, "Shush, let me finish. The fact that I was sixteen really made things worse. My emotions were out of control and I was destroyed by his obliviousness. I vowed to myself that the man I loved would be devoted to *me* and nothing else. Another person probably would have forgotten or modified a teenage vow, but I didn't. Then I met you. A man driven by his beliefs, his search for the truth. A man capable of missing that fact that his partner is completely besotted. With him."

A wry look crossed her face and she blinked back tears, "I didn't want to tell you about Alain because there was the remote possibility that you would guess my feelings for you. It was bad enough that I broke my vow. I didn't want to be humiliated, too. I couldn't bear it if you didn't return my feelings or worse, ignored them. So I kept quiet about Roland or Alain, whatever you want to call him." Mulder shook his head wonderingly, astounded by her revelations but still confused, "But I don't understand, Dana. What made you think of Alain Brastoine in the first place? The priest the girls told us about is named Roland. How did you know Alain and Roland were. . .are the same person when you haven't seen any photos of Roland O'Shaunessy? Did you guess?"

Scully got up and paced around the room restlessly, trying to put her thoughts in some order. Mulder hunched forward, watching her intently. Their surroundings faded away as they instinctively sank into the familiar mode of picking apart a case, solving a conundrum.

"I was reminded of Alain when you mentioned the dove ritual. *He* was the one who first told me about it in one of our discussions on Catholic charismaticism. You see, for the few people who know about the ritual, they think it is voodoo. When in actuality, it originated in Africa and was transplanted to the states with the slave trade. Somewhere through the centuries, the Africans had been exposed to Catholic charismatics." Dana saw his questioning look and for a brief moment fought the urge to laugh. Mulder's knowledge of religious topics was really atrocious. Such the skeptic, that man of hers.

Yet she refrained from grinning like a fool and elucidated, "Charismatics were people who used to travel around what used to be the Ottoman Empire and the eastern territorial reaches of the Roman Empire. They would visit towns, spreading the faith and performing miracles. Well, the height of their popularity was before the establishment of an institutionalized church structure and during the time of pagan attacks against Christianity. So another key aspect of charismatics were that they often died horribly brutal deaths for their faith. They were martyrs. But to make a long story short, Roman Catholicism evolved out of those early charismatic tenets."

Mulder rolled his eyes at her lecturing tone, "Thanks for the lesson, professor, but can we get on with story. I only have this lifetime."

She couldn't help herself, "If you believed in the glory of Jesus Christ, you would also have the heavenly afterlife." Registering him smoldering look, she decided to refrain from cracking any more jokes, "Anyway, the African slaves modified the dove ritual to help escape the horrors of their situation. The doves became disguised angels, sent to help the slaves leave the pain of this earth for. . .for Eden. For the slaves, nothing could be more terrifying that the thought of staying in this place, on this cruel planet. So they created an escape route. But, the telling of this story occurs on rare occasions. By that, I mean most people don't know about it. Maybe a few descendants of the early slaves and a few avid theologians, but no more. It is so fantastic that it is not recorded in most annals of Catholic mythic literature. So I was shocked to hear you describe the ritual when you detailed Gina Ricci's and Audrey Giatta's deaths. The odds of another person knowing the story were slim, and I immediately suspected Alain. I didn't want to because he holds a soft spot in my heart. My first love." She smiled sadly.

He returned her sad smile to indicate his understanding, but he still had more questions, "So how does Roland fit into all of this? What did you mean earlier when you called him a make-believe character?"

She began a jumbled explanation, struggling to make sense of it herself, "I don't know when I knew they were one and the same. I guess it is because Alain is the only one besides me who knew about Missy's guardian angel, Roland. When Missy was little she told me that she had a guardian angel who would always look after her. One day, she told me that Alain reminded her of Roland. I laughed and asked what was she talking about and dismissed it as nonsense. Melissa was always so whimsical. However, I did mention it to Alain who laughed at my skepticism. He told me the strangest thing, that he could very well be a guardian angel, *my* guardian angel. Well, all that flew over my head at the time. I was too distraught by the discovery that he *definitely* didn't see me as a woman he could love, but only as a project."

Mulder ducked his head in a vain effort to hide his wildly rolling eyes, but she caught him, "Yes, I know, Mulder. What can I say, I was sixteen and thought I was in love."

Mulder grinned at what he thought was a feeble explanation but refrained for making any smartass comments. The relief was too freeing. Alain, Roland, whatever was not a threat to his relationship with Scully. He realized with a start that that was all he really cared about, not the case or the mystery, just Scully. His mind dwelled on the phrase *relationship with Scully.* Oh boy. He was stilling reeling from her confession that she loved him. *She loved him!* What if he couldn't live up to her love. What if he didn't deserve it? Shit, what if he destroyed it? He could care less about her lack of forthcoming about Roland. Mulder understood that her pride demand that she protect herself from hurt, he was the same way. And he respected the strength it took to talk to him. He loved that strength. Hell, he loved her! Without stopping to second guess his actions, he reached and pulled her onto his lap. Hugging her tightly, he whispered fiercely, "I love you, too. Whatever happens. . .no matter how I may act, don't forget that. I love you, Dana Katherine Scully."

She felt the rough pads of his thumbs brushing her tears away, "You love me?"

At her disbelieving stare, he nodded indulgently, "Yep. Quite a lot actually. In fact, I would say that you are my other half. I think, Scully, that we were partners before we ever met."

She turned to get a better look at his face, cupping it with her hands. She understood exactly what he meant. It seemed as if they had known each other forever. There were times when they were separated but they always managed to find each other. But she needed to know for sure, "Tell me honestly, can you forgive me for lying to you? Can you still trust me?"

Fox's lips curved into a loving smile, "You don't need to explain or apologize. You did what you thought you had to and I only regret that I made you feel that way. But it doesn't matter now, I love you and you love me. More importantly, I trust you and always will no matter was happens. Somehow everything will work out. It has too, because as you well know, I don't accept defeat lightly."

A grin punctuated his last statement before it slid away as he bent his head to kiss her. His lips touched her with the lightness of a feather, expressing not passion but love and gratitude. A tremulous smiled brightened her features when they broke apart and he felt his lips break into another silly grin. He couldn't get past the fact that she loved him. It was almost enough to make him completely forget the case, Roland and Alain. It was definitely enough to make him table the conversation. "You look tired, sweetheart. It has been a long, gut-wrenching day and we still have the case to deal with. Why don't we get some sleep? We can talk in the morning and figure what to do then. Okay?"

At her hesitant nod, he hefted her lithe body in his arms and deposited her in the middle of the bed. She scrambled under the covers and patiently waited for him to join her, before turning on her side and closing her eyes. She really was exhausted. Mulder fitted himself to Dana so that her bottom nestled against his groin and her sweet-smelling hair tickled his lips. She smiled luxuriantly when he slid a hand to cup her breast and pushed her hips against him in approval. She whispered, "I love you," before slipping into a contented sleep.

It was a long while before Mulder followed her, preferring to stay up and watch the woman he loved. Surprisingly, the case never once crossed his thoughts. He had so much more important things to ponder like how in hell could they make this work? He still hadn't arrived at an answer when he finally drifted off.

Continue to A Granted Wish V