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Post by Fox Mulder on Mar 25, 2009 10:33:49 GMT -5
Shit.
For someone trained in psychology, someone as devoted to the exposure of evil in the world as he, Mulder was sometimes not very sensitive. The fact that Samantha had been taken from him made him sensitive, in a way, to similar stories--but it had also hardened him somewhat, so that that sensitivity often came off as callousness.
He put down his mug and leaned his elbows on the table, bending forward just slightly. It wasn't enough to loom, but he wanted to impart the seriousness of this, the trust he was putting in her, and establish that he didn't take everything so lightly.
"I know," he said quietly. "I shouldn't have..." He'd, in truth, forgotten who he'd been speaking to. Not that he'd forgotten Emilie, but he'd become too comfortable, too quickly. Maybe it was seeing Krycek again, and the lack of comfort that had brought. The memories it had stirred up. "My life has been extremely unusual. And dangerous. My work in the FBI has brought a lot down on my head that... that I think it's difficult for most people to understand. We accept the danger that comes with the work, but I think sometimes we forget how casual that makes us appear to others. I'm sorry. I assure you, I don't take any of that lightly, and I certainly didn't at the time. Which is why I wanted to warn you. I've known Krycek for a long time. He's helped me as much as he's hurt me. Maybe 'complicated' is an understatement, but... there's not a word for what it is." He watched her for a moment, wishing he'd learned to shut his big moth at some point. "If there was any danger, I'd tell you."
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Emilie Autumn
- In the Duggins -
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Beware of escaped inmates
Posts: 90
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Post by Emilie Autumn on Mar 28, 2009 19:01:56 GMT -5
This did not go very far in subduing Emilie's panic, and she remained stiff and small, like an animal that has been wounded by a pack of wolves, but is nonetheless refusing to go down, trying to back away but surrounded, and therefore, shrinking to the middle of the circle, wary of everything on every side. Her fear was not entirely irrational, but most of it was. She had no reason to connect anything Mulder said about his ex-partner with the doctors who had been at the asylum, or even the possibility of her returning to it, but old memories had flared up like pain from a war wound, and she had a hard time pushing them down.
And she did believe Mulder - she did believe him - when he said she wasn't in any danger, and, more or less, that he would be trying to keep her from harm, but she couldn't stop the wave of sudden nausea that came over her. She shut her eyes tightly as though she were about to start crying, out of hysteria rather than sorrow, and the fork fell from her hands and clattered on the ceramic plate.
"I don't feel well," she whispered. She shivered and hunched over further, pressing her face against the edge of the table. "I want to go upstairs."
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Post by Fox Mulder on Mar 28, 2009 21:29:32 GMT -5
Shit shit shit.
He was an idiot. He didn't necessarily recognize this about himself, but Mulder, for all his paranoia, had a few weaknesses. And one of them was that certain people--namely young women--could get in under his defenses and whittle away any reticence he might reasonably have in a very short period of time. This was not so much a sexual issue as familial, and while neither Scully not Emilie was Samantha, or even much like her, whatever it was, it made his mouth bad at stopping.
"Okay," he said softly, as gently as he knew how. "I'm sorry. Do you need... Should I walk you up?" He was just offering, not knowing what she needed because how could he know the whole of her experience, or what she was thinking of him now? What role did he currently hold? Brother/father/captor? Friend?
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Emilie Autumn
- In the Duggins -
![*](//storage.proboards.com/forum/images/stars/star.png)
Beware of escaped inmates
Posts: 90
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Post by Emilie Autumn on Mar 28, 2009 22:01:04 GMT -5
Emilie, in a very vulnerable moment of extreme paranoia, typically regressed to childhood, and completely did not notice if she was attracting attention from the other diners for once. She was not very aware of anything at the time being, only moderately aware of Mulder, although certainly that was more than she was aware of anything else. Nonetheless, if there was anyone she had the slightest reason to trust in her vicinity, she was able to trust them absolutely. And she did trust Mulder. Even if he was a man, and a near-stranger. Those few others at the asylum whom she had befriended, girls, for the most part, had given her less reason to trust them - they had all, Emilie included, been induced to rat each other out on petty and meaningless things. It was just part of the degradation that they were put through.
She no longer had Krycek in mind at all, but had merely been reminded very strongly of other things that those feelings aroused in her, and was made quickly helpless by them. Her cheeks wet from a few tears that had streaked down them, she nodded her head almost meekly, eyes downcast and troubled and darting, though seeing nothing.
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Post by Fox Mulder on Mar 30, 2009 10:16:11 GMT -5
"Okay," he said, and he looked around for a bill until the waitress caught his eye discreetly by shaking her head, her eyes pitying and her expression insistent. He supposed a total breakdown in the dining room might be a problem, but it was strange for her to be so attuned--still, he appreciated it in this moment.
"Come on." He stood, placing himself at the end of the table but with ample room for her to slide out, offering her the comfort of his proximity without crowding. He could slap himself for what he'd done, but at the same time, he knew that he was likely to set off feelings and memories in a girl with her history he had no way of knowing or guarding against. As it stood, he'd be whatever she needed right now, offer her whatever he could.
He just couldn't be sure what that was.
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Emilie Autumn
- In the Duggins -
![*](//storage.proboards.com/forum/images/stars/star.png)
Beware of escaped inmates
Posts: 90
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Post by Emilie Autumn on Mar 30, 2009 11:23:57 GMT -5
Emilie slid shakingly out of the seat, her legs not working so well for her at the time being, her violin case clutched in one arm like a child might carry a doll or a security blanket - her arm wrapped around it, ignoring the bulky, ungainly nature of its build. This was not entirely uncommon for her, and, indeed, before she'd lost them or had to abandon them, Emilie had had a wealth of stuffed animals that had been used for security purposes before. Mulder still seemed quite alien to her now - was that funny? He was a man, first and foremost, but she did not link him to doctors, or patrons, or other oppressive figures. But he had to be excluded from the realm of fellow victim, having none of the stressed and strained and shrill qualities of the other girls at the asylum. Emilie clutched her violin more tightly and put her other arm around Mulder's waist, stumbling along as quickly as she could and heading for the stairs, burrowing her face against him as though she was going to hide from anyone who might be looking - which was, while not the entire inn, for it seemed a place where strangeness went mostly unnoticed, was enough curiously interested people to make her feel more than threatened.
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Post by Fox Mulder on Mar 30, 2009 12:15:57 GMT -5
Her touch on his waist, her face against his chest, reassured him, anyway, that she wasn't seeing him as a threat. But even he was somewhat aware of the selfishness of his relief, because this wasn't about him, shouldn't be, even if having someone to care about did make him feel better about himself (even as he vehemently denied that fact). Gingerly, he place his arm gently across her shoulders, serving merely as a guide (the way he often, unconsciously, placed his hand in the small of Scully's back in a gesture he never noticed but which she perversely enjoyed the proprietary nature of).
He led her upstairs, then, and to her room, holding out his hand for the key so she need not attempt to unlock it herself if she didn't feel up to it. She was trembling such that he thought she might not.
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Emilie Autumn
- In the Duggins -
![*](//storage.proboards.com/forum/images/stars/star.png)
Beware of escaped inmates
Posts: 90
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Post by Emilie Autumn on Mar 31, 2009 9:54:06 GMT -5
Her half-slumped position did not make getting up the stairs any easier, but leaning heavily on Mulder did help. Emilie had leaned heavily upon other people before, but those people had been girls of about her own size, and so they could never have done this. It afforded a sort of easy comfort and relief not often seen out of the womb, and she was thankful for it because she could hardly focus on keeping her body from slumping over.
She didn't even think about the fact that she was handing him the key when he did so. It was better not to think. Nor did she have the time to consider that she was forcing her sickly self on Mulder, which, normally a proud person, and a self-conscious one, Emilie would not have done if she'd known she was doing it. But he didn't complain or point it out, and so she didn't have to.
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Post by Fox Mulder on Mar 31, 2009 10:43:53 GMT -5
Mulder didn't point it out. Not only because it wouldn't have been helpful or nice, but because it afforded him the opportunity not to be sent away. "I'm fine, Mulder," had been burned into his brain, so often Scully had repeated it. Even, especially, when she was anything but. Mulder wasn't exactly maternal, but he'd wanted to take care of her, no matter how clumsily he might have done so. Why was it she could only accept his support while lying unconscious in hospital beds?
She might, in fact, have had the same complaint, only he didn't think about it from her perspective.
He took Emilie's key gently and opened the door, guiding her inside without asking if that was okay, though he didn't push the door all the way shut. He wasn't about to let go, if she was the one clinging. But he didn't want to sit on the bed with her. It wasn't something he'd have thought about generally, because he wasn't thinking about sex. But he knew Emilie might be, considering what little he could glean of her background, and didn't want to make anything worse. So he guided her to the bed, crouching next to her awkwardly, his arm still around her.
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Emilie Autumn
- In the Duggins -
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Beware of escaped inmates
Posts: 90
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Post by Emilie Autumn on Mar 31, 2009 13:49:46 GMT -5
Emilie would not have consciously thought of it if Mulder had sat on the bed, but she would not have been as comfortable with him as she was. Comfortable was not quite the word for it; Emilie was clearly not feeling any comfort at all. Nonetheless, it was true, certainly, that no discomfort she felt was caused by Mulder. That was something.
Emilie let the violin case fall onto the bed beside her, her arm needing to unlock its grip around it, and this making her relax suddenly. She still felt sick and worried, but could not quite figure out what, or how to navigate her way around it, merely feeling disoriented. She was silent for a very long time, although relieved that Mulder was still there, before she bowed her head almost mechanically and lurched forward like a drunk to start to cry, mostly tearlessly, mostly hysterically, on Mulder's shoulder.
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Post by Fox Mulder on Mar 31, 2009 15:01:17 GMT -5
There was nothing for it, of course, but to let her cry. For the time being, at least--he wasn't sure what he'd do if she kept crying. Women crying didn't always move him, because there were types he didn't trust. Emilie was not one of those types, and he could not imagine her using tears in some sort of manipulative game. Mulder found women manipulative enough without their being conscious of it.
He did the only thing he could think of, the cliche of wrapping his other arm around her, as best he could with their awkward positioning. It was a cliche, he thought, because it really was the only course.
Well, that, and slapping the girl, but he did not think Emilie would look up at him with tear-stained cheeks and perfect eye makeup and say, "thanks. I needed that."
As she cried, Mulder made a few reassuring sounds, not quite words, but syllables in the line of "shh, it's okay" or to that effect. It obviously wasn't, but it would be if he could help it. And he knew the value of a soothing voice. And perhaps he was just giving her permission to cry, and hold on to him, until she didn't need to.
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Emilie Autumn
- In the Duggins -
![*](//storage.proboards.com/forum/images/stars/star.png)
Beware of escaped inmates
Posts: 90
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Post by Emilie Autumn on Mar 31, 2009 15:32:02 GMT -5
It was indeed all that Emilie needed, and Emilie never cried for long - which was not a good thing, although it would probably be a relief to Mulder, because she really only cried until her natural hardened defence mechanisms kicked in, and then the shell of repression clicked down over her very tightly. In any case, she finished crying rather abruptly, and her body tensed slightly as she stood up and walked past Mulder. It was only after she'd done this that she tried to make herself relax. She shrugged and hunched her shoulders, trying to loosen them, and sank into a chair in the room with a long, soft sigh.
She looked down at the floor immediately after, swiping her toe back and forth about an inch as she did so as though it were very fascinating, wary of saying what she wanted and needed to say. The memory of being in a darkened room, told to tell some doctor or other exactly what he wanted to hear, and humming and fiddling as though she didn't understand as she refused to say it, was superimposed over this image, and she winced. "Thanks," she managed very quickly. If she'd been holding hot coffee, she'd have probably spilled it, such was the uneven nature of her behavior.
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Post by Fox Mulder on Mar 31, 2009 15:53:16 GMT -5
It was a relief to Mulder, but that relief was contingent on what happened next, and could be snatched back at any moment. When it quickly became apparent she wasn't coming back to the bed, Mulder turned a little, though he didn't get up. He managed to relax against the side of it, sitting on the floor with his legs tucked up a little against him. He wasn't in a position of authority--he was letting her call the shots. Waiting. It was obvious she had something to say, and Mulder hoped whatever it was was something he could do something about, something he could fix.
His posture was, if anything, slightly too relaxed, but it wasn't as if Mulder had any other mode. Even in action he was somehow slightly messy, just as a dog, no matter how well-bred or well-trained, still had to hang its tongue out of its mouth to pant.
"Any time," he said, because "you're welcome" was irrelevant and "no problem" suggested there might have been one. But it wasn't throwaway and casual, though his monotone might suggest very little difference between casual and felt.
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Emilie Autumn
- In the Duggins -
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Beware of escaped inmates
Posts: 90
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Post by Emilie Autumn on Apr 7, 2009 15:15:52 GMT -5
Emilie pulled her legs up into the chair in a manner one would have expected of a little girl rather than an adult. Even the legs themselves looked entirely different - the curved thighs, the curved calves. Rather than suggesting sensuality, however, it only emphasized that Emilie's own childhood had been drastically distorted in some way or other. Emilie hugged her legs to her chest and looked away from Mulder, not because she was upset with him, or even because she wanted him to leave - she just felt it was appropriate she should be alone.
For a moment, she wanted to tell him things - awful, terrible things, in a deadened monotone, just to say them. She wanted to start crying again, and wanted to confront it all, but this thought vanished very shortly. What she really wanted was for it to have never happened, and that couldn't be the case. Because he was from the century in which these things, to her knowledge, had not happened to her, she wanted to connect with him, and wanted to be a part of that century. But in that moment, very silent, very still, Emilie became rather resignedly aware of the fact that she was simultaneously a Victorian insane asylum escapee, and there was no hiding it.
"Leave me," she said very calmly, still facing the wall, her poise having become, gradually although quickly, adult again, and less playful than Mulder would perhaps be used to.
((I just realized that the reason I couldn't think of anything to reply with is something along the lines of, 'Well, the thread is sort of over. :S' I have a bad habit of stretching threads out long after they should just die and leave room for new threads.))
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Post by Fox Mulder on Apr 7, 2009 16:26:52 GMT -5
((No problem. Mulder's gonna feel really bad, though.))
Mulder watched her, sensing the revelations to come and bracing for them. But he braced also for what actually came, and it wasn't so much a surprise as it was a disappointment. It wasn't that he would like hearing such things as she must have to say, but he would have liked being the one she wanted to tell them to.
What did surprise him, though it shouldn't have, was the contrast between her tone and her posture, the adult woman within the lost little girl. He wasn't sure, in that moment, which one he'd collected on that street corner. Or rather, which one had come back with him.
He stood, and he did not approach even though he wanted to offer her some friendly gesture he couldn't possibly predict her reaction to.
"I'll be in the next room," he said softly. "If you need anything."
He wanted to be, so he hoped nothing would call him away. It shouldn't, he thought. Where did he have to go?
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