Chapter Nine

It was getting darker. Mulder wasn't back yet.

Anne scribbled in her journal. Scully paced, ordered take-out Chinese, and after that came, paced more with the container of kung pow chicken in her hand. Anne nibbled an egg roll and thought longingly of cigarettes.

"I can't believe him," Scully announced. "I really can't."

"He has commitment issues," she was adding a sketch to her text-of the view from the window.

"Is that why he and your mother aren't together?"

Anne shrugged. Her real parents probably still hadn't noticed she was missing. "None of my beeswax. She's not here, he is. Usually."

"Have some Chinese."

"Are you one of those compulsive feeder people? I never dealt well with those. They think you're rude if you don't eat."

Scully laughed. "Bad habit from my mom."

"Toss an egg roll, then."

Scully sat next to her and they dug into the Chinese together. Leaning over, Scully caught sight of her notebook's half-filled pages. "You have lovely handwriting."

"Dad taught me," she nibbled the egg roll. It was grease and brittle bread, exactly how she liked it. "He has really clear cursive. Before I did these capital block letters like a five year old. Not pretty."

"I always preferred to type."

Anne shrugged. "Well, I never typed before. We lived in the projects, you know?" And she had , really, cooped up like sardines in a can, two adults and three kids. Except before she left she was the only living child. Her brother and sister were gone, buried in someone's back yard. Or maybe two someones. She never knew. That was when it was time to split like peas.

"Are you from Virginia?"

"Originally West Virginia. In the backwoods. We moved intercity for some reason I never quite got. School wasn't it, that's for sure." Hell, she hadn't been to a school until Mulder made her. Reading was something she learned from Sesame Street. After that it was just finding the right books. "The school I went to sucked like a Hoover on crack."

"Well, if you didn't blow things up-"

"Hey hey hey, I cleared that up with you, Red. I was falsely accused of junk. But school is boring. I hope Dad gives me more advanced work."

"How advanced?"

"Algebra. Precalculus. Psychology. Hard science. Computers. Probably have to get that last from some friends of his."

"You know, I could teach you some of that."

"You don't need to."

"I know. But I like to teach."

"That's right, you teach at the Academy. Any chance I could help autopsy someone?"

It was a joke, but Scully took it seriously. "Maybe in a few years. If you learn enough about anatomy."

"Awesome. You rock."

They ate quietly together. The light was almost gone outside. Anne felt the pressure on the back of her neck like a warning. Hell, maybe it was. Mulder was out there, doubtless engaged in something stupid.

"You tired?" Scully asked, neatening the take out containers.

"Chronic insomniac. Dad and I stay up half the night watching bad TV. Or the old black-and-whites. I can get by on three, four hours."

"Well, I'm going to try and catch a few hours."

"Okay. I may walk around the block, go next door and randomly call people in the phone book. Get some coffee."

"Smoke?"

"Is it that obvious?"

"You smell like an advertisement for Virginia Slims."

"Have you ever smelled one of those? I think it'd be hard, since they're either film or paper."

She tried to be jaunty.

"Just be aware that smoking is bad for you. I'm not your mother. Or father."

Anne slipped out, leaving Scully to catch a few hours before whatever hell Mulder raised came and visited them.

Scully was right. She wasn't Anne's mother. And Mulder wasn't her father.

She lit a cigarette and laid on the sidewalk in front of Scully's room, looking at the sky. A star shot over head, a bright green streak against the blue velvet.

She closed her eyes and made a wish. And then dozed in the cooling night air.