A/N: Hi guys need to make an amendment to last chapter. I said that Mulder and Scully were flying to M.I.C which is in Minneapolis! I meant to put K.C.I which is Kansas City International airport. Sorry to any of my fellow American authors and readers that I managed to confuse but I am sure you guys knew what I meant!
Also I have never had the good fortune to visit Holton in Kansas so any people and places are solely in my imagination. From what I have read about the place it looks really beautiful. I am sorry to any of it's residents or people connected to the place if my story causes any offence - non of it is intended I swear!xx
As always thanks for reading and once again I don't own the X Files or any of it's characters!
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Scully stood in front of the car rental station at K.C.I airport with her elbows on the counter. She impatiently watched the clerk filling out the information from her documents and bit her lip to stop herself from snapping at him to hurry up. Mulder was standing a couple of feet away, deep in thought, fiddling with the charm he had found in her apartment. She could see the same impatience she was feeling in his stiff posture and his body language. He was just as scared as her that they weren't going to get to her in time.
She quickly glanced up at the clock and noted that it was already 15.35.
Frustratingly, their plane had been delayed slightly in landing due to the weather conditions, when the pilot had come over the plane's intercom system advising that they had missed their landing time window due to having to divert a little, both of them had looked at each other in quiet apprehension. They had not spoken but she had sat up feeling completely awake listening to his assurances that they would be landing as soon as possible.
They had only been delayed by half an hour but each minute counted. They still had a good ninety minute drive before they got to Holton if this clerk ever managed to get past the first page of the four page document. She sighed in frustration and finally, after another couple of minutes of tapping her manicured fingernails irritably on the marble counter she was asked to sign her name at the bottom.
Grabbing their bags they quickly exited the airport and found their car. Their usual leisurely tradition of grabbing a coffee first and discussing their case was forgotten as Mulder hastily threw their bags in the trunk and got into the passenger seat. He barely got his door closed before Scully sped off.
They had discussed the plan that morning to bypass the local sheriff's station and head straight for the diner. The sheriff had informed them that the last tornado, had been near a local diner called Marty's and that the news reporters had been there the day before. This was likely to be the report that she had seen that had set the whole thing in motion. Mulder's hunch was that she would go there first to get her bearings and wait for the tornado to land. Scully had agreed and trying to be optimistic had suggested that she may want to stop for something to eat or drink first considering that she didn't think that anyone was following her.
Mulder had readily agreed until the weather warning report had been handed to him. Now he knew that they weren't just racing to make sure they caught her before she flew off again, they were also racing against a force that couldn't be predicted, a force that could land any second without any warning.
The uncomfortable silence permeated the car as each mused on their own thoughts, the tension growing as the signs sped by indicating how far they were from the small town. Twenty minutes away from Holton Scully looked over her bonnet and stared at the sky.
"Mulder." She broke the silence, he looked up from the map in his hand, the other fiddling with the small charm. She was pointing upwards to the sky her mouth set in a grim line.
"I guess we no longer need the map." He said with a humourless smile, putting it back in the glove compartment.
She didn't reply, she simply put her foot down on the accelerator and sped towards the darkening sky.
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The car pulled up to Marty's diner in Holton just after five that evening. As they had entered the outskirts of the town their chatter had died down as they had driven in and seen the chaos that the tornados had left in their wake. The destruction was unbelievable. There wasn't a building or area that hadn't been somehow touched by the force of nature. The farmhouses had shattered windows, the wood and paintwork scarred from flying debris, everything ranging from overturned animal troughs to horse saddles and car doors littered the fields and roads. As they had passed the wooded areas lining the main road into the town there were branches, tree trunks and leaves snarled, entangled and meshed as far as the eye could see.
She took a deep breath surveying the nearly empty parking lot, maybe with ten cars or so. Even though there had been teams of people trying to clear the aftermath of the ferocious winds the day before it looked like they had not even made a start. Jessica felt her heart break with sadness. She felt responsible somehow. The more time she had spent brooding as they had sped down the motorway the more sure she had been in her convictions that this was all related to her arrival a couple of days before. As narcassistic as it may be her gut feeling was insisting to her that this was all about her. And that this was her ticket home and these poor people had felt the brunt of it. She was positive that it would all be over as soon as she stepped up and faced it.
"Jessica." He watched her watching the brooding black sky. The town was in a dusky darkness even though it was early evening. Usually this time of day the sun was still shining regardless of the time of year, only the temperature varied.
He cleared his throat and spoke a little louder, " Jessica." She turned to him with tears glistening in her distant eyes. He could see the sorrow and grief that she felt for these people, no one could be unmoved by the destruction in this small town, but there was something else. He had a sense of foreboding as he saw the look of tired resignation settled on her, weighing heavily on her features making her young face age visibly before his eyes.
"You could walk away." He told her softly his brown eyes imploring her to rethink whatever she was planning," You can drive away now with me back to Topeka and not look back."
She smiled sadly at him, the half light casting shadows across her face. She shook her head softly, " I have to do this." She told him with a finality to her voice that sent a shiver down his spine.
She broke his intense gaze and leaning over to the back seat grabbed her bag. She rifled through it finding her tennis shoes and exchanged them quickly whilst he watched her. "I think these would be a little inappropriate at the moment with what these people have been through." She said quietly holding up the garish shoes.
He simply nodded and looked out at the diner, he could see the place was unsurprisingly nearly empty although he had a feeling under normal circumstances it was a probably the local hot spot on a Saturday night.
"Thank you for everything." She told him sincerely, she leant in a kissed him softly on the cheek. She pulled away and with a small smile bade him goodbye.
He watched her for a minute through the wind shield surveying the area and realising that she wasn't going to change her mind he pulled out of the car park. She waved giving him a reassuring nod. She watched him drive all the way down the long winding road and turned her attention to the black sky. It moved like a pit of snakes undulating and roiling over each other. It was waiting for her.
She felt waves of fear crashing over her as she knew it was coming soon. She took a shaky breath as the winds started to pick up shaking the unsteady glass windows in the diner, making them rattle. Her hair whipped out around her as she felt the warm winds circle around her pulling at her clothes, beckoning her to the spot on the horizon where the dark sky met the rolling green hills and inclines. She barely notice the windows stopping their rattle behind her as the winds died down again. It would be soon. This was a warning that it was ready when she was.
"First a little dutch courage I think and a cigarette and then I am all yours." she whispered to the sky before turning around and walking into the diner.
She walked into the diner and her eyes scanned the quickly over the booths and its patrons. There were a couple of groups of men in grubby work clothes sitting around in the booths and at the bar, drinking beers. All of them had the same tired and haunted looks in their eyes. The level of noise fell slightly as the patrons turned to look at her. She felt them survey her warily, she was a stranger in a town where everyone knew each other. She would have to be very careful about what she told them.
"Can I help you miss?" The man standing behind the bar was in the middle of packing large bottles of alcohol in a large box. Jessica figured the guy was in his sixties and probably the owner of the diner. He looked like a Marty. He was plainly dressed in jeans, a worn plaid shirt and biker boots. His hair was a silver grey, and he sported long stubble on his weathered, tanned face. He had dark black eyes that she reckoned would burn through any lies or bullshit that she might spout.
"Yeah, please can I have a brandy, a coffee and a pack of ten menthols." She asked wearily, sitting down heavily on one of the stools and dropping her bag at her feet.
The guy looked a little surprised at her and eyed her with suspicion."Now missy you don't look like you're twenty-one."
She looked up in surprise at his stern expression and then realising her mistake laughed good-naturedly even though he could hear a slightly shaky resonance to it.
" I am sorry, " She told him quietly, rubbing her forehead and kicking herself for forgetting for a minute how far away from home she was. She had never had a problem with getting served when she went out, "I forgot the legal age in America is twenty-one, in England it's only eighteen." She smiled tiredly at him, " Just the coffee and cigarettes thanks."
He watched her for a couple of seconds in silence weighing her up and then proceeded to fill up a coffee cup and pass her the cigarettes. He grabbed a clean ashtray and a box of matches and placed them in front of her.
"Thanks." She muttered as she lifted the cup to her mouth and then lit up taking a long drag on the cigarette. She closed her eyes in appreciation as the nicotine raced through her blood and to her tired brain giving her a lift. She only smoked when she went out for a drink with her friends and she loved the buzz it gave her although she would never take it up as a full time habit.
He watched her, enjoying her cigarette and coffee with an exhaustion that seemed to hang on her pretty features. He knew who she was. Her name was Jessica Myers. Bob Jessop, the local sheriff, had dropped by earlier that afternoon to inform him that a warning from the F.B.I had come through that a sixteen year old British tourist had been been kidnapped and somehow escaped, now she was currently, for reasons unknown, making her way to their small town. His instructions were that she was to be stopped and detained until the agents in charge of the case arrived later that afternoon. He had silently handed over a picture of a pretty girl in what was unmistakably a school uniform with a confident and winning smile.
She looked older in person but he figured that was to do with some heavy burden she was carrying. If she had been kidnapped and taken away from her family why the hell was she sitting at his bar looking like the world sat on her shoulders in the middle of nowhere instead of going to the first police station she could find?
Something didn't make sense. He wondered if there was more to the story, maybe she killed her kidnapper in her attempt to get away? He coughed gruffly and for a moment couldn't help feeling sorry for her. If she had killed her kidnapper, it was his own damn fault, she was obviously trying to defend herself against something that he was doing to her and managed to get away. Who was he to judge a desperate act in a desperate situation?
She had obviously felt the need for a drink and rest before she carried on to where ever the hell she was going. Or before the law caught up with her.
"Why brandy? That's quite a heavy drink choice for someone so young." He enquired breaking her out of the slight stupor that she was sat in.
"It reminds me of home, " She replied wistfully, "It reminds me of my dad. On Christmas Eve it's tradition for my family to sit together curled up in front of the fire watching movies. We all have a brandy together to celebrate the beginning of the holidays."
She caught the look of sympathy on his face. She couldn't believe that this man could possibly feel sorry for her whilst he was packing all his livelihood in boxes in the face of such destruction to his property.
"Long way from home huh? What you doing all the way out here?" He asked kindly wondering if she would tell some of the basic truth he was already privy to.
"Yeah. A very long way from home." She agreed sadly, " I just thought I would stop quickly before I go on. I'm just passing through I have a ride to catch."
" What are you running from?" He asked succinctly. She chuckled softly, this guy obviously was used to people peddling their sob stories at his bar. He could probably read most people like a book although it wasn't much of a leap to conclude that she was runaway from home because of her accent and youth.
"Well yesterday it was a bad guy that I managed to get away from, who knows about today? Its not over yet." She told him with a lopsided smile. She held her hands up and shrugged, "What can I say, same kind of shit different day."
"You guys should know. I am so sorry all this has happened to you." She told him earnestly. He nodded in acknowledgement at her condolences but she knew that he didn't realise how sorry she was that it had happened and that it could all somehow be connected to her.
He sighed heavily, " Well it's not the first time it's happened in my lifetime, the last time was when I was a young boy but unfortunately it's not the end of it." He paused waving his hand towards the large wall mounted T.V, "It looks like we have one more to deal with and it's going to be a doozy. They are predicting an F4 landing at some point in the next couple of hours so I wouldn't stay longer than you have to."
He watched her reaction as she sat up straighter in her chair a look of trepidation dawning on her face. He also detected a small flit of relief pass through her widened chocolate eyes but shook it off thinking that he was mistaken.
He turned to the boxes lining the floor by his feet and rooted through two of them before finding what he was looking for. He grabbed two glasses, pouring some brandy in each glass he pushed one towards her. "We all need a little Dutch courage from time to time." He clinked her glass and took a drink smacking his lips appreciatively.
She smiled warmly at him and took a swallow. She could feel the alcohol burning all the way down and then the familiar warmth that spread across her chest. It was delicious, slightly different to the one that her father bought every year but just as good.
"Thanks." She mumbled, feeling the tears pool in her eyes as the taste and smell of the burnt caramel coloured liquid reminded her so painfully about her family. Brushing them angrily away she cleared her throat, " Well I guess I better stop bugging you and let you get on. I'll go sit in a booth for a while then I had better make a move."
He nodded and watched her move her things over to one of the middle booths where she proceeded make herself comfortable on the padded vinyl bench. After a couple of minutes, two of his younger regulars sidled up to the bar casting side way glances at Jessica before turning back to him.
"Is that the tourist the sheriff was talking about earlier?" Tommy asked in a hushed whisper casting her a quick look over his shoulder to make sure she couldn't hear their conversation. She was staring out of the window holding a lit cigarette which was burning itself away without her noticing.
"Now how in the hell would you know about that Tommy Daniels unless you were trying to overhear my private conversation with the sheriff?" He asked him evenly looking him in the eye with a stern expression. Both boys baulked a little at the severity of his expression and looked a little sheepish.
"Sorry Mr Johnson we just happened to be near the bar and overheard you guys talking." His companion, Joe muttered with his eyes cast down. "She's mighty pretty." He observed glancing over at Tommy who agreed with a quick flash of a grin and a nod.
"Now you two leave that poor girl alone," Marty warned them both gruffly, he kept his voice low but the stern tone came through with clarity," let her have her drink in peace that girl has probably gone through more shit than you guys could ever imagine and she doesn't need a pair of idiots like you two making matters worse."
He sighed heavily, "I'll give it ten minutes and I'll call Bob myself to tell him." He dismissed them with a pointed nod to their group on the other side of the diner and they slunk off again, once again muttering their apologies.
With a quick look over at them making sure they were behaving themselves, he then cast his eyes briefly over to her forlorn figure. Marty turned back to the boxes on the floor to reseal them and decided that maybe he would give her twenty minutes, it didn't look like she was going far anyway.