"Seeing Secrets "

 You would think that it would be easy for a 
clairvoyant to find an apartment. My "gift" has 
never worked quite that way, however. No 
putting the classifieds to my forehead and 
knowing where the perfect, new home is. No 
visions in a crystal ball of a charming one 
bedroom with a flexible lease and reasonable 
rent for me. My ability is a little less 
practical, but nonetheless valuable to me and 
once in a while, others. And so I sit down now 
like other mere mortals and begin to scan the 
offerings of the Georgetown area, hoping that 
at least one calls to me.


Dana Scully's Apartment

        Today it is my 36th birthday. Some 
people make resolutions on New Year's Day. I 
like my birthday as a jumping off point, 
though. I think this year I will step lightly 
rather than leaping. As I rise from my bed, I 
think about where I've been, and where I want 
to go today, next month, next year. Coffee 
before the journey, I muse. On my way to the 
kitchen to fix a pot,I notice a small dent in 
the wall near my bureau. Instantly, a wave of 
doubt, fear, and loathing rolls over me. Mulder 
may have helped my mother put a fresh coat of 
paint over these walls after Donnie Pfaster's 
recent visit, but the gash still remained. It's 
like me.

         I push myself into the kitchen to 
jumpstart the day and me. As I walk, I mentally 
check off my to do list: work, pick up the dry 
cleaning, return movies, break my lease. Every 
item had been a forethought, except for the 
last, of course. How did that impulsive idea 
make its way onto my list? It didn't make 
sense, economically anyway. Any normal person 
would have moved long ago, I remind myself. 
There has been too much pain and fear here. Oh, 
push the thought down and it will go away, just 
like others. As I am reminded of Mulder, I 
hurry myself so as not to be late. He wouldn't 
be in the office or in town today. He would be 
going to Connecticut for the probate of his 
mother's will. And I thought I had a tough day 
ahead. Skinner's expecting a report on the LA 
"Fear Fest" case by noon. I told Mulder that 
would be a tough one to write up. Don't let 
your fear kill you, too, Dana, I chide myself. 
No running, not from your life or your  
apartment. Taking a deep breath, I turn to face 
the day.

         After I turn in the report, with two 
minutes to spare, I decide lunch wouldn't be 
bad idea. At least today I can eat something 
healthy without being reminded of mutation-
causing pesticides and crop circles. I smile at 
the thought of him, but quickly push him, the 
idea, away. The thought is quickly replaced by 
another insane idea: I wonder how much trouble 
Mr. Mancuso would give me if I tried to break 
my lease? It is only three months. Even if I 
had to pay the full rent I could still probably 
swing it. I decide to pursue it and if my 
landlord is hesitant, I'll take it as a sign to 
stay. While I know I was making a pretty tight 
deal with my subconscious, I still felt quietly 
excited about the prospect of a way out of 
there.

LATER-

         "Yes, Yes, I know Mr. Mancuso. I know 
I still have three months left. Well, yes, it 
was the least that I could do. I'm sorry for 
any trouble, I, I mean my job has caused. Yes, 
that is part of the reason why I would like to 
leave now. No, I'm not doing anything next 
weekend. I don't think I'm going out of town. 
I'll check with my partner, though. He 
sometimes springs travel plans on me at the 
last moment. No, I wouldn't mind showing the 
apartment for you. Let me know. You'll place 
the ad tomorrow? Thank you, Mr.Mancuso. Yes, 
I'll give your regards to my mother. Thank you 
again." As I hung up the phone, a sigh escaped 
my lips. I didn't know that relief could feel 
this good.
~~~~

         The ad read like a dream: Large one 
bedroom with full tiled bath, fireplace, glass 
fronted cabinets in EIK, Georgetown area, $1200 
per month. The price, the location, a 
fireplace, I had to see this place. More 
importantly, I had to feel this place. Upon 
arriving, I was met at the door by a petite 
redhead. Somehow, I was expecting an older, 
weather-worn landlord type. 

"Dana Scully," she said firmly while extending 
her hand in greeting. My puzzlement must have 
shown on my face as her next words were," Mr. 
Mancuso had to go out of town, so he I asked if 
I could show you the apartment myself. Thanks 
for coming. Feel free to take a look around, um 
Ms.-?"
 
 I fill in the blank for her, "Monahan, Karen 
Monahan."

 "I'll be in here if you need anything," she 
said as she settled herself at the kitchen 
table with a mound of paperwork and a laptop.

The apartment was very nicely decorated; it 
exuded a softness, an attention to detail. It 
seemed almost to contradict the woman who met 
me there. I moved first through the living 
room. I was admiring the triple window 
treatment to my left when I first sensed 
something. It came as a series of flashes-
breaking glass, those strong-looking wooden 
slatted blinds shattering and being pushed 
aside from the outside. Intrusion, fear, 
crashing, one after another the thoughts and 
sounds came as rushing winds into my mind. I 
moved away from the area quickly to distract 
myself. Going to admire the fireplace another 
sensation hit. Things are not as they seem. 
There is deception involved. There is almost a 
resolution. Then, there is humiliation. Hope 
has fallen like sand through her finger tips. 
What has gone on here? Never has such a place 
"screamed" rather than spoken to me. Thinking 
that perhaps the bedroom to my right might be a 
more peaceful place I move there next. I could 
not have been more wrong.

         A definite chill settled over me as I 
walked through the doorway. Very infrequently 
can I say I have felt the presence of evil, but 
there was definitely an impression of it here. 
The room smelled of fresh paint, but it was a 
mere veil which vainly attempted to cover a 
more heinous scent. Yes, something wicked had 
visited this room, and I "knew" it was in the 
not too distant past.The sounds which I heard 
only within my own mind began next: the mirror 
slamming into the wall behind the bureau, a 
hypnotic song playing over and over again, 
water running coming from the bath. The 
sensations of being trapped, gagged, facing 
death too soon came now. I must get out of 
here. Crossing the portal of the room, I made 
my way to the bathroom. It was large, and 
immaculately clean. It was clean the way a  
rape victim tries desperately to be clean after 
she has been violated. I knew that no amount of 
Comet, however, could wash away the filth of 
what was almost committed here. I say almost, 
because I sense that somehow evil did not win 
here, this time. It may have chinked and 
chiseled away what little it could but somehow 
there was something stronger, a good that could 
not be pierced. That strength however, was a 
bit weary, a bit neglected, there was something 
missing. I wiped my hand wistfully along the 
surface of the large claw-footed tub. As my 
fingers connected with a small dollop of wax, I 
felt that chill again. I must be going.
~~~~~~~


     It didn't seem to take her long to look 
around and she didn't ask me any questions 
about the place. I wonder if that is good or 
bad. I know there's only one way to find out, I 
have to ask her. God, she reminds me of my 
sister. It's probably just the crystal on the 
choker or the Irish genes, I remind myself. No, 
it's something else, except I just can't put my 
finger on it. Here she is.

"So, Karen, what do you think?" I ask 
hesitantly. 

"I'll take it," she replies firmly. And with a 
smile and a handshake, we seal the deal.
~~~~~

       On the drive back to my soon-to-be old 
apartment, I try to imagine why I just did what 
I did. Why did I just agree to rent an 
apartment that did everything but have its 
walls bleed blood? What am I, out of my mind? I 
have never experienced with such vividness 
anything like what just happened to me; it was 
like watching a horror movie, but yet I have 
agreed to live there. There must be a reason. 
Am I a masochist? No, I'm anything but. Maybe 
it will become clear to me once I'm there. God, 
I hope so, because right now this doesn't make 
any sense. Listen, Karen, my inner voice 
speaks. Listen and it will be crystal clear.



Three Weeks Later  

The move went well; my brother Charlie was in 
town, so I didn't even have to involve Mulder 
in the process of moving day. I don't know why, 
but I just didn't want to have him there that 
day. This was for me and anyway lately I just 
didn't feel like I could share something this 
close with him. He has been through hell, and 
as much as I have tried to be there for him, 
there is a chasm now, one which we can't seem 
to bridge. 
I like my new place, it is plain, but that's 
ok. I seem to crave the understated right now. 
Today at work I finally gave Mulder my new 
address.

"When do I get to come over for a house warming 
party, Scully?" he asks with the tiniest hint 
of a smile.

"When I'm ready to be warmed. I mean ready for 
my house to be warmed," I add, but it's too 
late. He caught my first statement and I know 
I'm in for it. Yet, he surprises me. He 
chuckles softly and lets my slip go.

The phone rings just once on the intra-system 
line letting us know someone here is trying to 
reach us.

"Mulder," he answers. " Yes, I'll ask her. 
Scully, do you know a Karen Monahan?"

I run through a short mental address book, and 
remember almost instantly.

"Yes, she's the person who rented my apartment. 
Why?" I question him while he is still holding 
the phone.

"Apparently, she's here to see you. Are you 
here?" he queries.

"Yes. Tell them I'll be right up."

~~~~~    
I know the premise of why I am here, but for 
the life of me I can't seem to bring myself to 
own up to the reason why I'm really here. As I 
sit waiting in the lobby of the J. Edgar Hoover 
building for Special Agent Dana Scully to 
arrive, I try to summon my courage to say what 
I know I must. During the three weeks I have 
spent in her apartment,(with all I've 
experienced, I can't seem to yet call it 
"mine"), I have felt and sensed just about 
every emotion ever known to woman-kind: fear, 
anger, depression, rage, emptiness; it's a 
laundry list of those who have been visited by 
the unclean of spirit and they've all been 
experienced first by her. Alongside all of 
these were also her dreams, fantasies which I 
know she used to soothe herself to sleep most 
nights. When the darkness would begin to settle 
in, I would be lulled often times as she must 
have been by visions of such a loving man whose 
touch was like a balm to so many open wounds. 
His tender kiss would bring a temporary peace 
which would go as quickly as it arrived, chased 
away by frustration and longing. As I struggled 
to figure out why I felt led to live there, I 
had begun to see the reason as clearly as I had 
seen her secrets.  I took a deep breath as I 
saw her emerge from the elevator.

Holding out to her the package which I held in 
my hands, I smiled warmly and said, "Dana, I'm 
sorry to bother you at work, but this package 
was delivered to your apartment last week, I 
figure UPS didn't have a forwarding address, 
and Mr. Mancuso didn't feel right giving me 
your new address, and well, I guess he figured 
this was a pretty safe place for me to deliver 
it to you." Realizing I was rambling, I let out 
a little self-conscious laugh. This was going 
to be harder than I thought.

"No it's alright. I was wondering where this 
was," she said quietly as she accepted the 
package from me. "Thanks for coming out here. 
Are you settled in yet?" she asked politely.

"Yes. I'm really enjoying living there," I 
lied. "How are things in your new place?"

"Fine. Things are just fine," she replied with 
just a hint of distance. "Well, thank you 
again, Karen."

As she turned to walk away, I, calling up every 
bit of guts I knew I had in me, reached gently 
to touch her elbow in hopes of bringing her 
back. "Dana, I'm here for another reason, too. 
I really need to talk to you," I said as 
softly, yet as firmly as I could.

"Is there a problem with the apartment?" she 
asked with concern.

"Well, yes and no. Is there somewhere we could 
talk? Can I take you for lunch, perhaps?" I 
said as I quickly looked at my watch.

Her eyes darted for a moment. "Alright. Let me 
just go get my purse and let my partner know 
where I'm going. I'll meet you out front in 
about 15mins, OK?"

"Great," I say not too convinced of how 'great' 
this was going to turn out.



Cromwell's Bar and Grille

"Thanks for meeting with me. I can assure you 
that I'm not a psycho or anything; actually I'm 
a pretty responsible person who has a nine-to-
five job, but I just so happen to also have a ... 
gift, if you will."

This Karen Monahan seems to have gift for 
rambling if for nothing else, I think to 
myself, but somehow I find myself hanging on 
her every word.

"Dana, I feel things when I'm in certain 
places, I know things that no one has told me  
about people and about their experiences. And 
as difficult as it is to share this, I know 
quite a lot about you and about some situations 
that I think you need to deal with."

Everything within me was telling me that 
despite what this woman said, she must be a 
psycho. "I really think this is a mistake. I 
need to leave," I say as I gather my things to 
go.

"No, Dana, please. I think that you know as 
well as I do, that there are many unresolved 
issues for you connected with that apartment, 
and for both our sakes, I think you need to 
deal with them."

Her resolve and forthrightness startle me; they 
surprise me enough to cause me to sit back 
down. "What are you talking about?" I say in a 
conspiring whisper.

"It all began from the moment I set foot in 
your apartment. I was able to sense many 
different scenes from the past, scenes which I 
know had to affected you deeply. There's been a 
lot of violence surrounding you, Dana, and 
knowing what you do for a living, it does not 
surprise me. What does surprise me, though, is 
how you have managed to be touched by it, but 
not broken."

"I don't know about that," I say ruefully with 
lowered eyes.

"You're still here aren't you? But I know also 
that your sense of wholeness is beginning to 
show some signs of weakening. That's why I'm 
here, Dana. I believe that the reason why I was 
given insight into your, um, situation is to 
help you, urge you to move on, to take another 
step. All of the brutal sights and sounds which 
I have experienced in your apartment do not 
compare with the depth of longing and solitude 
which I sense from you now. You already know 
what you must do; please, for all three of our 
sakes, do it soon." With that definitive 
statement, she rose, walked to the counter, 
paid the bill and left without ever looking 
back.

         The rest of the day passed in a blur 
as I tried unsuccessfully to keep my mind on my 
work despite all that I had heard at lunch. 
More than once, Mulder caught me just staring 
off into space.
"Hey forget the penny. I'll give you a dollar, 
Scully. What's going on?" he begged at around 
five o'clock.

"I've got to leave, Mulder. I'll see you 
tomorrow," I replied hastily. 

Once I was in my car, I rested my head against 
the steering wheel. How much DID this woman 
know? How much had she "seen"? She could have 
heard all the details of the various break-ins 
from neighbors, but what about that line about 
the three of us? Did she really know not only 
about real happenings but flights of fantasy  
as well? And her words had been almost 
foreboding in tone, like she was warning me 
that if I did not do something soon, make some 
move, the armor which has protected me, us, for 
so long would simply fade away. Could she be 
right? Could I take the chance that she wasn't?

    The drive seemed to take forever as I 
pondered Karen Monahan's words all the way 
home. As soon as I walked in the door I headed 
straight to the phone. I knew as surely as I 
knew grace and providence what I must do. 
Dialing the familiar number, I too, saw flashes 
of a thousand scenes before my eyes-our first 
meeting, the first tears I shed in front of 
him, the first time I held him protectively to 
me, each time we had sustained each other. When 
he picked up the phone, I found myself 
hesitate, but only for a moment.

"Mulder, it's me. Care to come over for that 
house warming?"

"I will be right there," he said in an echo 
from another call in which I told him of my 
needs. Now I must tell him more and I am scared 
to death.

 
     His knock at the door made me jump. 
Calming myself, I walk to the door, take a 
breath, open it and wave him in. I see the 
flowers before him, though and I can't help but 
smile.

"Where did you find lilacs in March, Mulder?" I 
ask.

"Ah you never know what you'll find when you're 
not really looking, Scully," he said in a 
cheshire cat way. "Nice digs, I like," he said 
as he moved into the living room.

"Can I get you something to drink?" I call as I 
make my way into the kitchen to put the lilacs 
into some water. Their scent was almost 
dizzying or is it just my nerves?

"Whatever you're having is fine," I hear him 
say as I can also hear him moving around, 
checking things out.

Handing him a glass of wine upon my return to 
the living room, I realize that my earlier 
frazzled nerves seemed to have calmed.

"To a happy home for you, Scully" he toasts.

"Yes indeed," I reply as our glasses clink.
"Sit down, Mulder."

"Ok. This sounds serious. Is it about your 
visitor today?"

Wondering who is the clairvoyant here, I say, 
"Why yes, actually it is. Karen, though, just 
helped me remember some things, some important 
things. Granted they concern some times I would 
rather forget, but I know that in attempting to 
push them away, to shove them under the rug, I 
have given them even more power over me and I 
know that that is wrong. I asked you here 
tonight because if I hope to move on, if I hope 
to leave the fear behind me, I do not want to 
do it alone. I know I can do it by myself, but 
to be completely honest, I just don't want to."
As I look up at him now, I see his eyes 
pleading with me to stop, to not dredge up old 
wounds, but I know for the sake of any future, 
I must re-open them in order to heal.

"I think what Duane Barry, Donnie Pfaster, and 
others robbed me of more than anything else, 
was my ability to go out on a limb, to take a 
chance. And lacking that ability I know is the 
one thing that stands between me, you, and this 
bond we share, a bond which has saved both of 
us more times than I care to count. I know, 
also though, that this security we have is 
beginning to show signs of wear, broken down by 
fear and unfulfillment. I want it to be strong, 
I want to be strong again, will you join me, 
Mulder?" I say as a plea with my hand ever so 
slightly outstretched to him.

He takes my hand in his, holding it like he is 
afraid it will shatter. He doesn't understand 
that now it cannot break, for I have taken the 
first step. Raising it to his mouth, he kisses 
each finger tip while his eyes slowly close. He 
begins, "I will go with you, Scully, wherever 
this journey leads for I know it is my journey, 
too. It has led me this far, but not far 
enough. I know there is something more than 
just truth out there. And I know if I have any 
hope of finding it, whatever that 'it' may be, 
I know I will find it alongside you."
His kiss began as a benediction, a going forth 
promise, that he bestowed first to my forehead 
as he held my head in his hands like a precious 
treasure. I tilt my head back then, so that our 
lips may join as they were meant to, each 
meeting a silent prayer for the voyage ahead of 
us.
~~~~~~~~

     There is peace now- for this place, for me 
and I'm hoping, for Dana. I believe my work is 
finished now, a sense of completion has settled 
here, and a sense of beginning as well. We are 
all where we are supposed to be-I, untroubled 
by someone else's past, and Dana with the one 
who has shared her secrets from the beginning, 
the one from whom she no longer has to hide.


END 

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