I wasn't intending to write a sequel to my fic 'Find The Future', and this doesn't really reference the events in that fic, other than Mulder and Scully being married and reunited with their son, William. Anyway, I had an idea, and I ran with it. I'm not entirely sure if this fic works, because I started it as a kind of alternative to the 'missing' X Files episode which was going to be based on ghosts in the White House. It evolved into something different along the way, and it ended up a fluffier affair than I originally intended. Well, here it is... I'll leave it up to you, the reader, to decide on its merits. Thank you. - Mrs P.
Ghosts Of The Past - Chapter 1
Mulder was up to something. After more than twenty years together, Scully knew the signs. It was almost impossible for him to get anything past her. She only had to uncover whatever it was he had been plotting. She eyed him with suspicion through the semi-closed door to his office, and tried to catch fragments of his phone conversation. He was keeping his voice deliberately low. Scully hovered out of sight for a while, until she began to feel bad about spying on him. She reassured herself that he would tell her what it was all about, when he was ready. There was no good reason for her to fear he was up to anything nefarious. They were happy together, and getting settled into a new home with their son. They were all adjusting well to living together as a family. Nothing was perfect, of course, but they reckoned they were pretty damn close to it.
Scully took a step away from the door, and fully intended to go back to preparing dinner. A dizzy feeling suddenly gripped her, and taking a deep breath to steady herself, she leaned against the wall for moment to regain her composure. Her eyes drifted back to her partner. Mulder was in his early fifties now, and still as handsome as ever, if a little more ruggedly so these days. The years had been kind and he'd taken good care of himself. Scully knew every part of him, intimately, and yet she still couldn't help staring at his toned body. She was edging closer to fifty than she was comfortable with, and for a second she entertained the horrific notion of her husband with a younger woman. It wasn't something she could bear to dwell on for long, and chiding herself for being so foolish, she scurried away.
It helped Scully to find an outlet for releasing some of her tension, by chopping meat for the casserole she was making. Mulder sauntered into the kitchen and smiled coyly as he went to rummage around in the fridge. He didn't say a word but she could sense he was working up to something. Scully carried on assembling her cooking ingredients, when a check on an expiration date alerted her to an approaching anniversary. In three days time, it would be exactly twenty-one years since she was assigned to the X Files. Her mind drifted back to that moment, which was forever burned on her memory.
Sorry, nobody down here but the F.B.I's most unwanted…
She smiled involuntarily at the recollection. Mulder, who was secretly watching her, felt his heart leap at how beautiful she was when she was smiling. She was older now, but her beauty had only matured with age. He worried that she'd been looking tired and pale lately. She always managed to bring light to his darkness, though, especially when she was happy.
"What ya smiling at?" He closed the fridge door and moved closer to her to lean against the counter.
Scully had forgotten he was there for a moment, and she started for a second before quickly recovering.
"Oh, nothing... I was just thinking about Wednesday; I mean the date," she said pointedly wondering if Mulder even knew what she was referring too.
He gave her a grin but didn't confirm whether he recalled the significance of that day. He studied her thoughtfully for a long moment, and then he spoke.
"I wanted to hate you. I even told myself that I did hate you. You were sent to spy on me, and to destroy everything I'd worked so hard to build, and yet you ended up being my saviour. I never would have gotten as far as I did without you by my side. I'll be thankful for the rest of my life, for the day that you walked into it," he smiled at her in the way that made her melt inside.
Mulder calculated his little speech had set the mood well for the surprise he intended to reveal. He was pleased with how his wife was looking at him; like she wanted him for dinner, instead of the casserole. He expected the plans he'd made to prove to be tricky proposition. But he hoped she wouldn't be too opposed the idea, once she'd had a chance to mull it over.
"Ah, about Wednesday, I thought we could make a day of it, celebrate, you know?" He began tentatively.
"Since you have the week off work anyway, and I thought we could ask John and Monica if William could stay over at their place for the night. What do you say?" He asked.
She already knew there was something he was withholding. His fidgety behaviour was a definite tell.
"Okay, but define 'celebrate'," She said and eyed him with suspicion.
He noted her look, and decided to go for bust.
"Actually, I've sort of, kind of, already arranged something. I hope you don't mind, but I thought it would be fitting if we spent the day paying homage to our work on the X Files. Have you ever been to the White House, Scully?" He grinned again and was certain she would at least be intrigued, if nothing else.
"Mulder…?"
She sighed as her mind boggled at what he could possibly have arranged for them. But she also felt relieved, after what she let herself imagine as the reason for his recent covert activities.
"So this is what you've been plotting, is it? I just knew you were up to something," she said.
Mulder shrugged and gave her an innocent smile. Scully rolled her eyes and inwardly admitted defeat. It did sound like it had the potential to be an interesting prospect, and she had never been there.
"So, the White House?" She asked nonchalantly while trying to look disinterested by returning to her recipe.
"It's got to be one of the most haunted houses in the Country, if not the world. I've been in touch with a reputable psychic, and an historian who has written a book and produced a documentary about the place. Both of them are willing to accompany us on the tour. It's a singular opportunity actually, because the invitation comes from the President himself, kind of," Mulder faltered in his sales pitch at that moment.
"Kind of?" Scully leapt on his vagueness.
"Skinner was the one who suggested it. The President and the First Family have been troubled by some strange happenings in certain rooms in the White House, and they wanted to know if there was anyone who could look into it, unofficially of course." He explained.
"Look into it? Mulder?" She questioned with exasperation because he knew how she felt about reprising their old line of work.
"Dana, we're talking about the President here, and all we have to do is look around the place. Maybe see if we can pick up on anything. What do you say? It'll be just like old times," he promised.
That was what she was afraid of.
"Old times? Like when one of us got shot, or abducted, or otherwise almost killed in some unimaginably horrific way?" She questioned.
"Aw, c'mon, Scully, it'll be fun," he pleaded with that puppy dog look he knew she couldn't resist.
And sure enough, against her better judgement and instincts, she knew that where he led she would inevitably follow; even into hell itself.
"Oh, alright, but just remember the last time we went to a haunted house together, and almost ended up shooting each other to death," she cautioned.
"That won't be a problem this time; no guns allowed for visitors to the White House," he grinned.
Wednesday morning came around, and Mulder was beyond excited. He had been in a state of anticipation for the last couple of days. He missed the thrill of the chase, if not everything else that went with the X Files. Scully was less enthused, but the idea of them getting to spend some quality time together was more appealing. She had been really busy with work for the last month. She wondered if her overflowing caseload was the reason she'd felt so exhausted lately, and hoped that's all it was.
They got the practical stuff out of the way, like getting their son ready and off to school. Then they made their preparations for the afternoon and evening ahead. The psychic and historian would be coming to the house, so that they could get acquainted first. They would also be able to discuss the itinerary for the rest of the day.
"You know something, Mulder? I've completely forgotten what the correct dress code is for ghost hunting, never mind ghost hunting at the White House," Scully said as she rifled through her wardrobe looking for a suitable outfit.
"The President, the First Lady, and the kids are all out of town, so no need to go overboard on the dressing up. The first dog even has other plans," he laughed.
"I seem to recall a lot of running, and a lot of bruising too. Maybe I should borrow William's baseball pads?" She queried only half-jokingly.
"Don't worry; I've got your ass covered," he quipped giving her rear an appreciative look as she shimmied into her pants.
She looked at him with mock disapproval but quickly followed up with a smile, and then she moved in to kiss him.
"It's a good thing we're expecting guests, or we'd end up raising more than the dead," he quirked his eyebrows and reluctantly stepped away to continue getting dressed.
There was a slow but loud rapping at the door, and Scully could see the silhouette of an older woman through the glass. She rolled her eyes as she went to answer it. This was the psychic who would be accompanying them, she presumed, and even her knock was theatrical.
"Hello, my dear, I'm Mrs Pennybaker," the older woman said as they shook hands.
"Won't you please come in?" Dana stood aside to allow her to enter
"You must be Mrs Mulder, or do I call you Doctor Scully?" She inquired.
"Um, well, I mainly use Scully in a professional capacity at work now, and it's kind of a pet name with my husband... So, um, please call me Mrs Mulder, or Dana," Scully realised she was rambling.
The whole situation was beginning to make her uncomfortable.
The older woman smiled as Mulder came down the stairs to greet her. He was brimming with the enthusiasm his wife lacked, and Scully was happy to let him take over.
"Mrs Pennybaker? I'm pleased to meet you, I've heard so much about you," he shook her hand and led her into the kitchen.
"I just spoke to our White House historian, and unfortunately he's running a little late, so he's going to meet us there," Mulder explained.
"That's a shame. I like to familiarise myself with the energy around each individual person before we get started," Mrs Pennybaker said as she took a seat at the kitchen table.
She then proceeded to close her eyes and take several deep breaths, before opening them again.
"Everything okay?" Mulder queried, as he noted his wife's look of exasperation.
"I'm just preparing, is all," the psychic explained.
"If it's okay, I'd like to see if there is anyone from the other side who might want to get in touch with either of you? It helps to get all of that out of the way before we get into any other business. It lessens the likelihood of interference and interruption later on. If they get their chance now, I mean," she explained.
Mulder and Scully indicated that she should continue,
Mrs Pennybaker took a deep breath and closed her eyes again.
"Oh my, you've both suffered so many personal losses. I, I didn't realise," her face took on a sad expression, and there were tears in her eyes when she reopened them.
"I'll proceed now, if you're ready?" She inquired.
Dana felt her discomfort increase at the prospect of an impromptu séance, and even Mulder was wary. But they both muttered their consent for the psychic lady to continue.
"A woman has stepped forward, and she has a message for you, Mr Mulder. She says her name is Diana," Mrs Pennybaker looked up at him for a sign of recognition at the name.
Mulder was mortified, and he couldn't bring himself to meet his wife's eye. He already knew she wouldn't be happy. He sighed and silently cursed; of all the people he'd lost, why the hell did it have to be her? He nodded his head to signal to the psychic that she could proceed.
"Diana wants to know if you can forgive her. She says she tried to make amends for betraying you, and she only agreed to do it to protect the work. She cannot rest without knowing that she has your forgiveness," Mrs Pennybaker stopped and looked at Mulder expectantly.
In truth, he didn't know how to react. He hadn't even thought about Diana Fowley for a long time, and it was all ancient history now. Her betrayal would probably have wounded him more if he'd still been in love with her. But as it was, when she came back into his life, his heart already belonged to Dana. He had allowed himself the indulgence of wondering what might have been on a couple of occasions. Then there was the dream he'd experienced, when his brain was operated on without his consent. Mulder contemplated it all for a moment. He found he had no regrets about what he could have missed out on with Diana, nor did he feel any lingering resentment over her betrayal.
He realised he hadn't answered Mrs Pennybaker, and that both she and Dana were staring at him with anticipation. He took a deep breath and risked a sideways glance at his wife. She didn't look angry, at least, just a little sad.
"Tell Diana, I forgive her," he said concisely, but earnestly.
Mrs Pennybaker nodded and then resumed her deep breathing exercise. She closed eyes as some of the tension began to drain from the room. When she reopened them her focus was on Scully; who for her part, just wanted to get the whole thing over and done with.
"Mrs Mulder, I have a message for you from your sister, Melissa."
Dana felt herself reacting to hearing her sister's name, despite her misgivings. She bit her lip anxiously as she waited for Mrs Pennybaker to speak again.
"She says she was right, about your aura compatibility with Mulder. She also wants you to remember Joan Fields."
"That sure sounds like Melissa. Aura compatibility?" Mulder questioned with a mock grimace.
"Um, yeah, Missy once told me that our auras complimented each other. I told her she was crazy, of course, but who knows? Maybe there was something to it," Scully explained but her mind was distracted with the second part of her sister's message.
"Remember Joan Fields? That was it, nothing more?" Dana questioned Mrs Pennybaker.
"That was all," she confirmed.
"Who's Joan Fields?" Mulder queried with interest.
"Her husband, Jim, was a Captain in the navy. My father served under him for a few years, until dad was promoted. I was friends with their daughter, Kathy; she and I are the same age. Joan was older than my mom, but they were good friends and I think they still keep in touch now, so I don't know why Missy is telling me to remember her," Dana puzzled over it but still couldn't get at the significance of the name.
"Perhaps the meaning will become clear, in time," Mrs Pennybaker counselled from her personal experience on these matters.
"Ladies, it's time for us to leave, if you're ready?" Mulder asked as he noted the time.
He grabbed his coat, and then helped his wife into hers.
Dana was still quietly pondering over the significance of Joan Fields, but she allowed herself to be ushered out into the car.
"White House here we come!" Mulder exclaimed as he drove them away.
