what_wings_dare | 🅧 Please explain to me the scientific nature of 'the whammy'

Most of what he's been talking about is inherently gruesome; she's not sure she has the stomach for it. Dead bodies and serial killers. Scary stuff. She doesn't want to be the girl who makes a fool of herself, getting green around the gills in a diner. Imagining the possibilities is bad enough.

But his long pause piques her curiosity. It's something that means a lot to him, no doubt, so maybe she shouldn't be prying. She knows better-- but.

"What are you looking for?"

The question is quiet, gentle. Dana is more than ready to be told it's none of her business-- though she thinks, he'll have to tell Carinda. He should. Carinda, she thinks, can help with whatever it might be-- so maybe it's not the worst thing to ask, to get him used to the idea of talking about it.

There's something in the way she asks, something kind. She wants to know - obviously, or she wouldn't ask - but she doesn't sound like she thinks she's entitled to know. So many people want the details just so they can repeat them to other people. He's pretty sure she does because she actually wants to know.

So he tells her, and he feels his chest clench the way it always does. "My sister. She disappeared five years ago."

It'll be six in November - but rounding up means assuming she won't come back. He doesn't want to assume all those days are lost, just because this one is.

(In fairness, she hardly knows him, and no one else here knows him at all. Who's she going to tell?)

"Oh," she says, and doesn't have the presence of mind to follow it up with all the things you're supposed to say in response to something like that. I'm so sorry, how awful. Not because it's not awful, but because she's busy fitting it together. No wonder he'd risk everything to save someone else's little sister.

"I'm sure Carinda will try to help you, if she can," is what she says eventually, after a moment. Determined, more than reassuring. If Carinda doesn't want to he's got Dana on his side to convince her.

"We'll see." It's a relief not to have to do all of the parts of this conversation he hates. Dana's quiet, and she doesn't ask stupid questions. She just thinks - he feels like he can see that part, the gears turning in her head - and she offers what she can. "Maybe she'll have better luck with her library than I did."

She probably will. Probably there's something about astral projection or finding lost things - if a child counts as a thing to lose. And then they can figure out if it works, and whether it works the way he needs it to.

---He can figure that out, he corrects himself. Dana's going to leave with her sister, not at all missing, sometime soon.

Empathy is the easy part. She considers it, absentmindedly reaching up to straighten her necklace. If something happened to Melissa she'd probably go crazy trying to fix it, too. Or Charlie. Or Bill, though the idea of Bill going missing feels somehow absurd.

"Even if she doesn't have a book she probably knows something," she says decisively. Because she has to, right? There has to be something to help.

For a moment she's quiet, and then-- a little hesitant--

"What's her name?"

"Samantha." Like the witch. He has all the details ready at hand, all the things to watch out for: hair color, eye color, height, clothing. All of it is years out of date, though. "She's fourteen now."

If you see her -

But will she? How likely is it that she exists somewhere just out of sight on the East Coast? Fox would like to believe they'd scoured the whole Eastern Seaboard, but his parents don't even talk about her anymore.

Nodding, she takes a slow sip of tea, considering that. She doesn't ask for any of that--somehow it doesn't feel as important. Dana has always thought it sounds a little gauche to offer to pray for someone, so she doesn't say it, but that doesn't mean she won't add it to her silent list of things to talk to God about. Samantha Mulder and her big brother Fox, who's so desperate to find her that he's chasing killers.

Almost my age, she thinks, a little absurdly. It must be terrifying. She doesn't let herself think if she's still alive because it would be a betrayal to even imagine it, sitting here face to face with Fox.

"I really hope Carinda can help you find her," she says, because she has to say something. But at least, even if it's not much, she's earnest.

"Yeah." The eternal gnawing hunger that is teenage boyhood has taken a brief break; he's not going to be able to finish these fries. There's something else that happens every time he tells someone about Samantha, even when they're not weird about it. Every doubt enters his mind all over again: What if she's dead? What if there's no one left to find? What if his parents already know that and haven't told him out of some kind of misguided belief that knowing would destroy him, too?

He can push all those thoughts away for now, but they're going to haunt him once he's trying to sleep.

But Dana's being cool about everything, at least, and he can't really ask for more than that right now. "Me, too. Uh - want some more fries?"

Realistically, four years missing is long enough to assume the worst. But fortunately, Dana has no desire to be realistic and she'll take her cues from him. If he thinks she's out there waiting to be found, then that's what she thinks, too.

"Sure," she says, and this time grabs three at a time. Unladylike, maybe. She's fifteen.

"Have you ever seen the library here, actually? It's enormous." It's the only thing so far that gives Beyond Beyond a run for its money as the best of this no-horse town.

Even if the realistic answer is Samantha's dead, she's gone, she's never coming back, Fox wants to find her body. And if there's no body to find, he wants to find whoever made her disappear that completely. It isn't fair that a person can steal a child away from the world; whoever did it, he needs to face some kind of justice.

But ideally - and in his heart, he truly wants to believe - Samantha will come home. So it's probably for the best that Dana doesn't argue the possibilities with him.

"Nope." He couldn't care less about ladylike behavior, but he does like books. "Maybe I'll check it out, though - if it's that good."

"It's really nice," she says, feeling inexplicably shy and oddly something close to proud-- which makes very little sense since she's barely less of a stranger here than he is.

"Craiger doesn't have a lot going on. If you go to the library you'll have seen all of it."

He doesn't have to worry about leftover fries, really.

"Maybe I should go," he says, running a hand through his shaggy hair. This could probably start to take the shape of something more than mere talk, if he had any mind for it. Right now, he's genuinely intrigued by the promise of the library - even if he suspects that it might only be impressive to someone living in Craiger. "Want to come with? If you think your sister won't miss you."

Oh, she should definitely say no to that. She has the excuse of chewing a frankly unflattering mouthful of fries to think about it. But she takes a little longer, chewing her lip in thought.

"There's a phone on the corner," she says. "I could call my mother and let her know."

Or pretend to. She's committed to the fiction of Melisa coming to get her, after all.

"Sure." He smiles, despite the fact that it's one more day without Samantha and he's gotten no closer to finding her. It's a broad, easy grin that lights up his whole face at the prospect. "I'm guessing it's close enough to walk."

This town feels like it's about three feet square. Fox doesn't mind it, exactly - it's not like Chilmark was a raging metropolis - but he's not sure he could be happy if he spent every day here. Maybe if he were old.

The fact that he seems pleased at the prospect settles her nerves. She likes to be appreciated, okay. It's not personal. (Not much. Give it a couple of decades.) And it's an excuse to go to the library. Win-win. The cute boy is completely incidental and unimportant. God, she hopes no one sees them. She hopes everyone sees them. She doesn't know everyone enough to know what to hope.

(She really, really hopes Ahab doesn't see them.)

"There isn't really anywhere to park, anyway. You'll see."

But, prudently, she helps herself to another handful of fries (or two) first.

This far from school, home, and his parents, Fox has given absolutely no thought to what any of this might look like from the outside. He's entirely focused on the moment, and especially on the fact that it's soothing some of the guilt that always wakes up when he thinks of his sister. The library might hold more information that could help him, after all. Somehow, some way, it might be useful despite its small-towniness.

He gets up, fishing a couple bucks out of his pocket and dropping them next to the empty fry basket. "Lead the way."

It's a little odd being the authority on Craiger. But they've got a mission and even now, Dana Scully has a deeply developed work ethic. She finishes up her tea, dabs her mouth with her napkin, and they head out.

She does insist on stopping by the payphone, palming a coin (thanks to her uncle's sleight-of-hand lessons) and doing a credible job of pretending to talk to her mom. Maybe he can tell-- she's not sure-- but it's the principle of the thing. She wanted him to think people were waiting for her, and she doesn't want him to think she's the kind of girl who just runs off on plans.

The walk is long, but it's pleasant enough; the grounds are visible before the building itself, and it looks more like... well, like a mansion, than anything.

"Told you it was huge," she says with a grin.

He assumes it's the real deal, in part because he's trying not to listen. (And if that means walking the edge of the curb like it's a balance beam, arms out, so be it. It keeps his focus on his feet and away from whatever it is she's telling her mother.) On the way over, they're both pretty quiet. Fox is taking in the scenery, trying to decide if he likes Craiger better the second time around; Dana's thinking whatever thoughts she's thinking, and she's not overly quick to share.

The jury's still out on whether Craiger's improved when there's no deadline, but its library is bigger than he expects. A huge lawn, a huge building - he's impressed despite a year of living in a real city.

"It's a house." Obviously, but there's admiration in that. A mansion stuffed full of books. "Do they ever do stuff out on the grounds?"

"I don't really know. I mean, they'd have to sometimes, right?"

What a waste, if they don't. She hasn't been here long enough to see anything of note, though.

"Someone willed it to the town, to become the library, I think. Obviously you can't take anything back with you but at least maybe we can get some ideas?"

She heads for the doors like she belongs there, because, well, she's a nerd. The librarian returns her nod pleasantly. Probably no one is going to tell her parents she's out with strange boys. Probably.

"Maybe." Even if they can't, they'll get to see the place, and right now, that feels like a win to him.

It's cool inside after walking in the summer sun, and it's a little dim. The right kind of atmosphere for a repository of knowledge, he figures, and Dana's right that it's one hell of a repository. It's beautiful inside, full of finely wrought architecture and furniture that looks like something a rich grandmother would own. And bookshelves, of course. Tons of bookshelves.

"Which room has the occult?" he asks in a cheerful undertone, bending down a little so she'll catch the sound. "The darker and more arcane, the better."

A town with a library like this can't be all bad, right?

"Spooky," she says with a grin she can't suppress. This is serious business and it shouldn't feel like fun, but she can't help herself. "I've never gone looking-- I think religion is downstairs?"

Maybe it can be a little unserious right now. It's not currently directly about Samantha; right now, it can be about the fact that they're exploring a library he's never seen, with a girl who's as enthusiastic about the idea as he. Once he actually gets somewhere, then it'll get serious again.

Walking over in the summer sun helped lighten his mood, and Dana's smile doesn't hurt.

"Religion?" He snorts, mildly derisive. "Do psychic powers count as a religion?"

"I think for some people," she answers, eyebrow raised. "But I guess I don't know. We could ask someone, or look at the card catalog."

Though she got him talking easily enough, she isn't sure he wants to risk anyone else asking him why he's so interested in remote viewing. Whether or not it's a real thing.

Asking someone? Absolutely not. That way lies embarrassment and a quick dismissal. The card catalogue seems similarly dangerous - if there's nothing here, there'll be no more reason to hang around. Maybe she'll walk back to Beyond Beyond with him, but that'll be the end of it.

(If there is something here, the card catalogue will ensure they find it quickly, of course. But his instinct is still to let things stretch out a little more if he can.)

"Let's browse," he says, and starts walking towards the stairs. "We can test your 'religion' theory."

"I don't know if I'd call it a theory." More just a vague guess. But that's-- fine. She's not in a hurry, and having faked a call home, she doesn't even really have to pretend to be in a hurry. It's kind of fun to have a goal in mind, and company-- particularly company she isn't related to. In Craiger, it's a novelty.

"But I think it's the--"

She's interrupted by someone further down the hallway. A male voice, calling out--

"Dana?"

Oh, shit.

[ n a m e ; ]	Dana Katherine Scully
[ c a n o n ; ]	The X-Files
[ g a m e ; ]	spicy times in noctiumrp

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject