Title: A Sleepy Little Town: Free Fall
Author: Neoxphile
Spoilers/Timeframe: post-IWTB
Disclaimer: The characters you recognize were created by Chris Carter. The rest are mine. Mine!
Series: A Sleepy Little Town:
I. Staged Duplicity
II. Recovering Gemini
III. Christmas in (Haven) Maine
IV. A Sleepy Little Town: Memory House
V. A Sleepy Little Town: Free Fall
Summary: Shortly after the events of "Memory House" an amazing and devastating secret bubbles to the surface of Mulder and Scully's lives.
Ballyguest Historical Society
"Homestead of ghosts?" I asked, giving Hattie a look of undisguised horror.
"Yes, dear. They changed the official name back during the twenties, though there are documents with the new name on them as long ago as the late nineties." It took a moment to realize that she meant the 1890s, not the more recent nineties.
"Why?" I asked on autopilot. My thoughts were far more consumed with wondering why the place's name originally referred to ghosts than concerned that they changed the spelling.
"Oh, public relations, I'd imagine."
"Public relations?" I repeated blankly.
"Yes. That's probably why it was called Ballyghaist in the first place, but things fall out of fashion, and they didn't want to scare potential visitors away. Guest sounds much more inviting than the implication that the town is haunted."
"But they didn't worry about that to begin with?" I asked, vaguely aware that the baby had woken up while we spoke. "That hardly sounds like something that would have ever brought tourist dollars to town."
Her own expression was slightly abashed. "Ms. Scully, I don't know how much stock you put into the paranormal or supernatural yourself, but Ballyguest used to be known for it in certain circles."
I'm afraid that I stared off into the distance as I tried to process which she was saying. It didn't seem like the right time to tell Hattie that in our former lives Mulder and I had dealt almost exclusively in the paranormal and supernatural. Judith had already spent quite a lot of time telling people all about the version of us she knew of and the last thing that Mulder or I wanted was for our work history to become an issue for the boys at school.
Eventually I noticed that Hattie was giving me a concerned look. "Which certain circles?"
"Are you at all familiar with spiritualism?" she asked in a tone that suggested that she wouldn't be surprised if I wasn't.
"With séances, and faked ectoplasm, and supposed ghosts floating around people's heads?" I asked. It was hard not to sound skeptical. She probably thought I wasn't a believer. Mulder would've found that amusing.
"That's it exactly." The look she gave me was approving, and the fine network of lines around her eyes crinkled as she tried not to smile openly. "It hasn't been popular since the 20s, so I'm always surprised when I meet a young person who has any grasp on the concept."
Once again I was tempted to tell her that I wasn't young, but it seemed pointless. To a woman in her eighties, I was young. "I've come across the concept. And there was that movie just last year."
"Haunting in Connecticut?" Hattie asked, leaving me surprised this time. The thought of woman her age watching horror movies just didn't gel in my brain.
"Yes. My husband and I went to see it last year, at his insistence. But I already knew something about spiritualism before then." It didn't seem worth mentioning that my first brush with the idea of mediums came in the form of Richard Peck books written when I was in my teens.
"Back during World War one Celia Maddox's great-grandmother was something of a local celebrity as a medium. There were many a séance held right here in Ballyguest."
"I suppose those séances were held in Memory House?" I asked, feeling more than little grumpy about the idea. You would have thought that it would have been worth a mention in their literature, considering that the inn famed itself on being able to connect people to their dead children dreams. Not that I myself had managed to have that pleasure.
Hattie shook her head. "No. Although Vicky's grandfather had been involved in spiritualism himself," she said, referring to the current innkeeper.
"Then where?" I hoped fervently that Hattie's next words would not be "in your house," because while that might have amused Mulder, I had no interest in learning that our new house was widely rumored to be haunted.
"Predominantly where Russell Carr's museum now stands; it used to be the Ballyguest Institute of Spirituality. Although, there were plenty of séances held in the north end of town, too, in private residences."
Unbidden, an image flooded my mind. A round wooden table, covered with a gaudy red cloth, surrounded by chairs. Each chair filled, people crowded together, shoulders practically touching. One person, an old woman, muttered to herself, and another, a man with a notebook, wrote down utterances that no one else could understand. Somewhere in the room, a hollow knocking sound.
Shaking my head to clear it, I found myself thinking that I was glad she didn't say the south end of town considering that's where our house was. It was probably irrational, considering I knew that virtually all of the results spirit medium shows were based on fraud and trickery, but I had seen too much to think that all of them were... As much as I would have liked to believe as strongly as I insisted that the ghosts that Mulder and I had seen in that house one Christmas Eve were fake, I had never been able to completely convince myself.
Hattie apparently mistook my silence as contemplative rather than dismay. "If you're really interested, I think there are some articles about the séances still. The Gazette could probably get you copies." Hattie tilted her head to the side. "You know young Max, don't you?"
I did indeed know young Max Kirby, and unlike me, he actually was very young. "I do-" I was spared from having to think of something nice to say about Max when Autumn began to fuss at last. "Oh, oh, what's wrong, sweetie?" I crooned, looking at my daughter rather than at Hattie.
Autumn was probably just bored because her fussing tapered off as soon as I pulled her out of her sling. Behind me Hattie chuckled. "Look at that hair! We can tell who this one takes after, can't we?"
That gave me pause. People often comment about Joey sharing my hair color too, and he was definitely much more cautious than William. Beyond noticing that, I hadn't really given much thought to which of our children would be more like Mulder or myself when they were grown. Frankly, I'd be quite content if they were not overly like either of us, because I've always thought the sum of our attributes were better than either of our own.
I suspected that Hattie had just been using the baby's outburst as a diversion, because the next thing she said was, "I'm sorry to have given you a shock, dear."
Although I looked up at her, I didn't say anything.
She sighed. "Not all newcomers take gladly to this town's illustrious past. I guess it must seem alien these days, ghosts, how can they compared to modern things like cell phones?"
Again I was gripped with the urge to explain what Mulder and I had done at the FBI, but I kept my tongue. Hattie didn't strike me as a gossip, but you never knew. Instead, I shook my head, as if I was trying to ward off something that bothered me. It wasn't much of a stretch because I actually was. "I'm okay."
For a woman in her eighties, Hattie had the brightest eyes. They bore into me for a moment before she looked away. "Good. Good."
There didn't seem to be anything left to say, at least nothing that seemed like a good idea to say, so I stuff the baby back in her sling and left. My exit would never be on a highlight reel for social etiquette, but I didn't know what else to do.
Mulder was fortunate that he wasn't home when I got there, because on the drive there I had decided that he must've known somehow. I wasn't sure how he might've figured it out, or how he had let me convince myself that moving to Ballyguest was my idea, but it didn't make sense to me that we could have moved to that town as a mere coincidence. One of us had to have known about the town's reputation, and it wasn't me.
His car wasn't in the driveway, but I found myself restlessly wandering into his office anyway. As I had suspected, he wasn't there. The only thing that greeted me was a pile of newspaper clippings, and a computer monitor that he had left on. On the screen I could see typing. At least he had been working on his manuscript. Still, I was annoyed that he had left the monitor turned on. It undermined our attempts to convince Joey and William not to waste electricity when we did so ourselves. Just in case, I hit save on his document before I turn the monitor off.
Autumn began to fuss in a way that told me that her issues were now more serious than mere boredom, so I brought her to her room. I was still in the middle of changing her when I heard Mulder open the front door.
"Scully?" His voice floated to me.
I didn't rush, knowing that I would end up with a crankier baby if I did. As soon as I put Autumn down, she fell asleep.
This time I found Mulder in his office. He was emptying a bag of copy paper and ink cartridges. "Hey," he said, glancing at me over his shoulder.
I narrowed my eyes at him. "Did you know?"
"Did I know what?" he asked calmly. "You're going to have to narrow that down a little for me, Scully."
"About this town."
"Even narrower than that."
"Mulder, what's this town's original name?"
He gave me a blank look. "It hasn't always been Ballyguest?"
"No, no it hasn't," I practically growled.
Mulder gave me a wary look before sitting in his office chair. "What did it used to be?"
"Ballyghaist."
It shouldn't have come as a surprise that he would instantly understand the significance, but I admit that it did. Eying me warily, he just said "Wow."
"Wow," I repeated grimly.
"No, I had no idea. Though I suspect that you have an idea why it was called that, which must be why you're looking at me like I did something wrong."
Perhaps I should have protested that he hadn't done anything wrong, but I didn't feel like it. Not right then. "Apparently we have moved ourselves to what used to be renowned for being a center of spiritualism. Séances, ectoplasm, the whole nine yards."
"That's fascinating," Mulder blurted out. "I mean, how upsetting."
If he had tried to jolly me out of my bad mood, he would have failed. But his unfeigned reaction did the trick. Lying to me has never come easy to him, so it seemed rather unlikely that he had allowed the town's reputation to be the driving force behind moving us there. Occam's razor suggested that it really was just a strange coincidence. My mother would've said it is fate that drew us, but I really wasn't in the mood for giving her theories about predestination any consideration.
Sighing, I said, "At least that's all in the past."
"Until someone gets revivalism fever," Mulder joked. His face fell when I didn't smile. "That probably won't happen."
"I hope not." I really did. When we moved, I thought we were getting further from our past, but now... Eyeing him, I did recall that he'd been the first one to point the town out on the map. "If you didn't know about this place's illustrious past, how did you decide to look at houses here?"
He shrugged. "I looked online for houses that looked like they'd suit us, and realized that the name sounded vaguely familiar."
"Familiar how?" I demanded to know. It was hard not to feel suspicious all over again.
"It took me a bit to place it myself, but there was something in my mother's stuff about the town."
This surprised me I'll admit. "Teena came here?"
He nodded. "I didn't really put two and two together until Max Kirby began to hound you about that story..."
When he trailed off, I didn't need him to fill in any more blank spaces for me. His mother must have visited the town so she could stay at Memory House. The thought of Teena Mulder deciding that she'd like to see if she could dream about her lost child didn't seem to gel well with what I knew of the woman. That sort of silly desperation just didn't seem in character.
Then, almost as if reading my mind, Mulder added, "It was a very long time ago, Scully. She was a different woman back then."
"How long ago?"
"Just two or three years after my sister disappeared..." He looked down, frowning. "I guess it was around the time she stopped thinking that Samantha was still going to come home."
"Two or three years?" I repeated, puzzled. "But Samantha-"
"Hadn't died yet. I know. Guess Mom jumped the gun on that one, huh?"
I gave him a small, sympathetic smile. He was beyond needing to be cooed over whenever he thought of his sister or his mother, but I understood how he felt about things that could never be changed now. Thinking about things that had gone unresolved between Missy and our father certainly gave me a basis for comparison.
After a beat, I said, "So I guess we have your mom to blame for this, then."
He looked startled at first, but eventually smiled. "A gag gift from beyond the grave. And you didn't think my mother had a sense of humor."
I tried to return his smile, really I did, but it was hard not to think about ghosts, and how very glad I would always be if I never had anyone tell me that our home was haunted. I could luck out and avoid it forever, couldn't I?
When I woke up in the morning, I felt better. So what if someone had thought our town was haunted way back before the great depression? That was so far removed from the present that it was silly of me to have gotten worked up about it the day before.
Trying to act cheerful, so Mulder at least knew I was over my bad mood, I made breakfast and chatted with him and the kids until it was time for them to leave. For the heck of it, Mulder and I trailed after them with the baby in tow when they raced to the bus stop next door. They didn't seem to mind us waiting with them for once - it wasn't like we hovered over them like some kids who had parents with them every time the bus stopped.
As William and Joey boarded their bus I heard excitable little boys calling out to them, asking them to sit with them. Glancing at Mulder, it was obvious that he had heard them too. The doors slammed closed, keeping us from hearing anything else that might have been said, but I could still see them happily settling in seats with other kids.
"I wondered how soon they'd make friends," Mulder mused as we watched the bus drive down the road.
"I'm glad that it didn't take very long, I said, thinking about how they had been bound to be referred to as "the Mulder twins" since the first day of school on - we have met several parents, and that phrase had popped out of nearly all of their mouths. Neither their new classmates nor their classmates parents had no idea that our boys hadn't begun school as a twosome, and hadn't even known each other until their final month of kindergarten.
"You sound like it was really a concern," I remarked, looking up at my husband.
Mulder shrugged. "Little New England towns don't exactly have a reputation for being welcoming to newcomers."
"You've read too much Stephen King." I pushed his shoulder lightly. "Besides, Ballyguest is different." I said, thinking of Hattie's revelation.
"Maybe you're right."
"Maybe?" I teased. "When am I not?"
"I seem to recall spending a night looking for tanker trucks..."
Shrugging my shoulders and looking down at Autumn, I said, "And look where that got us."
"Touché."