On that day, I had the feeling of a ray of light warming my sleepy heart with the colors of the rainbow. Only that thought had gotten me weird. Usually, I would have said spectrum.
When I met Abraham Mesla, I was alone in the basement. I underline it because It was not commonplace to have myself alone in there. It was, unlikely it could have happened only some days before Christmas. I had woken up earlier on that morning, and came in at work the first. Mulder was nowhere to be found, and his personal phone was cut. I remember I was typing a report for Skinner, one of these that killed me, due for the past week. I was drinking a sip of the hot coffee in the mug beside my laptop, when I thought I had heard three knocks on the door. I admit I was more than a little absorbed in my task and it broke my daydreaming. I looked up, expecting to see Mulder rush in on fire, and the explanation of him being late without me knowing. The door was slightly ajar although I was absolutely sure I had shut it off when I arrived. I got up, opened it wide, and I bent forward to look in the corridor, and if anyone was paying themselves a chuckle out of my head with a sick joke in the stairs. It was as empty and quiet as it had always been down there. I stood right where I was for a little while, puzzled. I turned round into the basement, and I made myself sure it was properly closed this time.
I was started when I faced our office for the second time. A strange man was sitting in Mulder’s armchair at his desk, and he gazed straight at an imaginary line. His eyes were incredibly big, nearly abnormally big, like an owl can have them big, except for his were terribly wide and scary pupils. He did not seem to care to have penetrated in a Federal Bureau without having been invited in anticipation. He did not seem to even be aware of his surroundings.
- How did you come in? I asked when I should have inquired what the hell he was doing there.
He ended up looking up at me and he began to stare like if I were a lonely loaf of deer, good to be chased. I did not move, close to the door, in case. He did not say anything, and I did not really enjoy it. It was odd. No it was weird. And maybe there was actually nothing to say. He just had to watch to read me like an open book.
- Sir you shouldn’t be here was all I found to cut that indecent gaze. I cautiously walked closer to the desk. He really was unusual. He had grown long white hair, and a long white beard. He was wearing simple clothes, a long gown in a common material, probably cotton. And he was bare feet, what I thought was highly dangerous for his health in that cold season. I sighed. I acknowledged he did not look to be aggressive, and his appearance objectively pushed me to believe he was a visitor for Mulder. So I asked him:
- Have you come to see agent Mulder?
He did not answer either. He just kept on watching me with, I never thought I would say that one day, eyes from out there. That small man with his intense stare had been dropped there as if by magic. By magic. Right. I silently brushed this idea out of my mind. I imagined more a very clever man, and his silence increased the mystery. However, and strangely in spite of my cautious nature, I was not afraid. I leaned on Mulder�s desk with my arms folded.
- I left something for you, he said as a paper appeared from nowhere on Mulder�s desk, leave something for them.
I woke up with a start. I had fallen on my own desk, nose first. How the hell was it possible? My laptop was still open on the same page I was typing before I had heard the three knocks on the door. I felt awkward, not sure of what exactly had happened. I was dozy to the point of sickness, nonchalant. I would have slept for hours more. I only had in mind the last words the little man had said. I elbowed myself up and narrowed my eyes to adjust my vision. Mulder was there. As if he had been there all along. Mechanically, I looked around, enjoying the for-now fragile silence.
- You had a bad night, sleeping beauty? He said as casual as usually, a mountain of files on his lap. It was impossible to tell whether it had been a dream or real. I stayed sat in on my chair for a while, thinking. After I convinced myself, only ask would not make a mad hatter of me, so, I got out of my clouds and turned to Mulder:
- Wasn’t there a guy, when you came in?
Mulder looked up in my eyes for the first time. He made a pause, considering my face before he decided what to answer, softly:
- No, there was only you, napping.
I pouted, almost certain that I looked completely in control. But after his next question, I understood I was wrong.
- Were you expecting somebody?
- No, no, I was just�
I did not finish my sentence. Mulder had been late. I put myself out of the mess I had let myself in by my own fault asking him where he was. I was not the only one to be embarrassed. He mumbled an old �I was busy for a case.�
- Anything interesting? I asked now frankly curious.
- No, wrong call.
I nodded. Yet, a doubt remained. I got up and did as if I was going to make up another coffee, which I needed a lot in fact. If I was unable to tell if a sheet looked different from Mulder’s files, I clearly noticed a grayish corner showing from under the wood of his desk. I stopped a second and watched, unsure.
- Is there something wrong Scully?
I would have bet he was absorbed. But how many times had I wondered the among of mysteries he owned behind these secretive eyes of his?
- I think it’s mine, I said looking down at the sheet. He watched me as I leaned forward to grab it. It was an article from the newspapers of the week before, about how all an orphanage had died intoxicated by carbon monoxide. I left the paper on my own desk, went to make up coffee, and as I was standing besides the machine, I started wondering about my level of sanity. I smiled to myself. It was very simple; I had fallen asleep, and had a weird dream. I put the sheet in my jacket’s pocket, though.
December 19 – 1.32pm
When I came back after my lunch break, Mulder was still sitting at his desk. I doubted he had left the place; or even eaten anything actually. Everything was insanely back to normal. My unreal morning had vanished with the gloomy grey of the sky. I acknowledge, I was moody. I had just seen my mother for a meal, and had had with her a discussion that left me a bitter taste in the mouth. I let out a quick “hi”, because it was Mulder, but I did not want to talk. I took off my coat and sat down at my laptop, carefully avoiding my partner’s look. I tried to behave natural, to have him not to pay attention. Nonetheless, The more I seemed to try, the more he did. I knew he was staring and I could not hold a glimpse. He bit his lip. He was dying to know, I thought, but he would not ask. For now.
I did not want to talk about what I had heavy on the chest. I wanted to think about something else. I asked him what he was working on.
- Do you know a place named Myosotis? he asked.
I raised my brow.
- No, I don’t, where is that?
- In Oregon, it’s Abraham Mesla’s fief.
- Who’s that?
He looked at me as if I had betrayed him. No, I did not know Abraham Mesla. But I would, yes, I sure would, within a minute, I would know all the details possible about that man.
- Abraham Mesla was born in 1956, in a very little place called Myosotis. It’s a flower in French, means Forget-me-not. It’s not even on a map. He is, he made a pause, a spiritual prophet.
- Ok, Mulder, what’s about him, I asked smiling.
- Well, he’s supposed to have been missing since August 1992, while a trip to France. Abraham wrote a wonderful book, he said waving it at me, Travelling is living, and he had indeed been travelling around the world since then. He disappeared during a conference.
- A conference? I asked initiating my partner to further explanation.
- He travelled to tell about his own experience, as an abductee, and this way he gathered people claiming they had lived the same, what?
- Alright Mulder, so it’s about the aliens? I sighed, now amused.
- You’ve never heard of Abraham Mesla, Scully? he finally asked, and I could feel the weight out of his shoulders.
I shook my head, I agree, a bit mocking my sweetly gullible partner. He handed me a picture. I opened my mouth to speak, but it was impossible. Lips parted, I was unable to quit staring these eyes and their quiet intensity. I gave him back the photo, rolling my eyes not to let him know too much of my trouble. I folded my arms and leaned on my desk. As if getting some steps away would change anything.
- What’s wrong with Myosotis? I asked.
- Several people said they saw Abraham, a sort of vision, very real, as if he had appeared to them as an entity. Some said they saw God.
- An entity, I repeated uncertain; I began to feel really uneasy, but is he real? I hazarded.
- We don’t know.
He got up and sat down on his own desk. He was too close for I could keep my composure intact.
- Several people in Myosotis and in the nearby area went to the police to testify about the UFOs they had seen.
- And they saw Abraham Mesla commanding them? I teased.
Mulder smiled.
- No, but he would appear to these people, before they saw the UFOs, in a short time.
I must say I was interested by what Mulder was telling me. And more intrigued because of what I had seen. Seen? I was not sure of anything, and I kept it for myself. This, and my mother. And Christmas. I looked up at Mulder. He smiled to me, but he was worried, I could tell. And each time I felt so about him, it did good to me. I sighed to regain my cool.
- An entity, Mulder, tell me you’re not serious.
He was. And he planned to visit Myosotis, Oregon, the brand-new cradle for UFOs, within the days. So, before we left for the town with the beautiful name, I did some searches about the place by myself, just out of curiosity. The man who had made it famous had been disgraced there, by the authorities, accused to preach in the name of a sect. Holy man for some, devil for others, a prophet or a blasphemer, he rarely let people indifferent to his cause. However, no sect had ever been found, no one had ever joined a so-called sect in his name, no money ever asked or involved, no fund, conferences free. Nothing. He was an only man, simple and solitaire, a believer that had felt the need, or the duty, to share his experience and knowledge with others. I had turned to Mulder. I understood better why he worshipped him so.
- Knowledge? Skinner had barked, he was convicted in three times for disturbance in a public place, accused to promote the dangerous ideas of his sect.
I had finished my report and brought it to Skinner as we had come to ask for the assignment. He would have no excuse for refusing us.
- Maybe, but nothing he was accused of has ever been proved, Mulder answered coolly, and he never asked a penny for his conferences.
Mulder was right. The little man looked like a tramp, and he had, I admitted, really special manners. He would have looked to be seriously attacked to anyone living in this very rational, normal world. I had tagged him the same way in the first place. But Mulder had a different vision, and I was trying to see a bit of what he saw through his words.
- It seems nobody cares about these people who scream they’ve been abducted, Mesla’s missing, all these testimonies forgotten, lost, it’s just preserved off the collective memory, Mulder had said then keenly.
Of course, all that story had for origin a case, XF10131122CGCC, and Mulder’s request was not totally innocent, yet I watched him amazed as new when he breathed out those last words to Skinner. He was true. That’s right that Mulder’s world made of aliens, UFOs and shadows was still abstract to me. I knew Mulder believed Abraham Mesla to be an entity, whatever the kind, and that he was in contact with aliens. I did not believe myself in this theory. Yet I gave credit to Mulder’s motivation. And, to be honest, I wondered if Abraham Mesla was still alive. I did not know if I would regret it, but I said:
- Sir, I don’t know if this has anything to do with abductees, but somebody left that on my desk this morning.
The piece of news had remained in my jacket since I had taken it when I left for my break. I gave it to my boss, not paying too much attention to Mulder’s I-am-a-little-betrayed-there-Scully face. He took it, still watching me with what he thought was a pressure on me, and then read it. Mulder bent to grab a glimpse, but leaned back in his chair, pouting because he was going to have to wait for some minutes more to read it by himself.
- Do you know who left you that, agent Scully?
He looked up at me.
- No sir, I don’t have the slightest idea, I lied.
I knew Mulder had had his eyes stuck on my back for all the time we spoke. Was it an X-File? Skinner twisted his serious lips, sighed, and gazed at me for a long moment, but I would not quiver. He had then turned to Mulder, for once, completely innocent.
- Try to have this cleared for Christmas.
Skinner certainly did not have a clear vision of the situation himself.
- I wonder if your nose could touch your lips, Mulder said mocking me kindly once we were in the corridor.
- What do you mean? I asked a little sullen. I did not want to talk.
- Come on, Scully, Skinner jumped in like a Bulgarian in yoghurt, and then a little more serious, why didn’t you tell me for the paper? As I didn’t answer, he asked, teasing, can I have it?
- Sorry not to report to you on every step I take Mulder, I said dryly while giving him the sheet, I must call my mother, I added in a breath without even looking at him.
And I left him there standing in his pants. I had gone a little too strong of coffee that time, and I, kind of, felt guilty for it. But know he was staring at me like a dog on his bone was worth it enough.
I came back a rather long while later. At Mulder’s excitement, I understood he was booking for our trip. And I had given him the ultimate pass for the last authority agreement. I did not sense entirely how, but I felt I had stabbed myself. I wanted to be elsewhere just equally as I did not want to leave my place. I had been feeling strange since the morning, a sort of second skin coming new in pain. I was nervously slow, softly frustrated. Weirdly alone among thousands of them. I had not thought about Mulder’s happiness; but them dying. Was it really Mulder who had decided to go?
I could barely have my mother for a few minutes, by a cold machine. Too many of my words had remained in my throat.
- So? I asked as if nothing had happened.
He did not rise his nose off the screen.
- There’s a plane this evening, but I wanted to ask you first, he looked up at me, we can also leave tomorrow.
- This evening will do fine, I smiled weakly.
He nodded, wandered a little on my face, my eyes, silently interrogative. But he only said:
- Fine, I’ll pick you up? I nodded, at eight pm.
We were forced to land in Montana, because of a storm. I do not think I had seen anything like this since my childhood. Snow everywhere, and still falling, through winds to rip off the horns of a buffalo.
- The weather will be stormy for days it seems, the policeman at the airport told us, you can’t book tickets for now, and anyway if you had the luck to find two, you’d probably have to change them right then.
Even electric Mulder admitted it would be unreasonable to drive there. Take a room and sleep? I enjoyed the idea. Needless to say the FBI would without a doubt love the thought as well. Only the railway was still upkept enough to work. We eventually could find a train leaving for Oregon on the following day. In the evening, we found an empty compartment.
There had been one hundred and twenty two cases of abductees in the region. For a bit more than one thousand souls in several little towns. I rolled my eyes to myself. It was way too much for Mulder’s ability to behave in such a situation. It was pure provocation. He could not stay sitting.
We had the days before Christmas to solve the case, if there really was a case; I was not even sure what it was really about. Myosotis was definitely on no map. What a pretty name.
I read the file once more. UFOs were regularly seen there, and more than twenty people were missing. Nothing said why, what, or how it had happened. Actually, it was holidays compared to what I saw at the bureau. There were a handful of pictures. Some of these people looked to be sane. I had uncovered that more than twenty per cent of them had lived more than six months at the local mentally disturbed patients retreat Peaceful Meadow. I raised a brow. The file also compounded excellent pictures of exsanguinated cattle. Only with my unexperimented human eyes I could guess that most of them had been opened only for the purpose of the exposure. I understood Mulder’s ecstasy. It was wonderland.
Could it have been worse…
- Scully, I know it’ll be Christmas soon, with that storm, I’d understand if you want to leave back home before we’re done.
- I’d be happy to stay with you, I said spontaneously, a little too much maybe, I sounded rueful, even to myself.
I felt my throat tighten. I shut the file and put off my glasses. I breathed deeply, let off my shoes on the floor and stretched out my legs on the opposite couch. I kept my eyes closed until my blood ceased to rush in my temples. I enjoyed the while of perfect quietness that followed. I only heard Mulder who turned the pages, rarely, as I slipped into torpor. I smiled to myself as the compartment’s door rolled on. Mulder needed some action. He had spoken something, but in a language I did not remember. I do not know how much time I slept, or more, was out of consciousness, but when I opened my lids again, it was as dark as ink outside. Mulder had lit up the ceiling lamps. He was reading, glasses on his nose, calm, or at least focused enough to deceive me. I realized that I had fallen with mine in my hand. I woke up with the bad feeling I had landed into the artificial lights of a parallel dimension. I had barely opened my eyes for a couple of seconds and I shut them again, slowly owning my space back, reassured by the coolness of reality.
- Feeling better? I heard.
- Yeah, I said with a hoarse voice, remaining in the dark for a while more.
I took a deep breath before I opened my eyes again. I frowned. We were not moving anymore. However, I did not see any lights around, sign of a city, or a dwelled place.
- Are we stopped because of the storm?
- It seems so, Mulder nodded, but happily I brought bonus seeds, want some? he proposed casually.
- No, thanks, but I’d use some coffee.
My watch showed nine pm. I had slept one or two hours.
- How long have we been here?
- Exactly one hour and thirteen minutes, he answered without watching the clock.
I nodded mechanically.
- I’ll go to the dining, I said putting on my jacket.
- Yeah, right, he said cracking one of his seed, I finish that and I’m all yours.
I knew Mulder followed me with the eyes until I was out of sight. He did that all the time.
People had opened their compartment doors, and it felt tense less, out of some nervous laughers and a baby who was crying at the bottom of the wagon. I walked across it to the other side.
- I’m sorry ma’am, a young woman told me.
- That’s ok, do you want some help?
- No, thank you, I can handle it.
She called the little boy named Kevin, and caught him by his jacket and I could not repress a smile to his frown. As she tried to sit him in the high chair, I let my eyes wander on the other people, in the other half of the corridor. They searched in their bags, moving their arms, went to the bathroom, anything to kill the time and release the stress of too long of a wait. My arms folded, I looked through a round window in the entrance of the wagon, as I passed by. I saw a man who walked in the pebbles covered in snow. He did not look like a guy of the maintenance, but with that cold, he needed warm clothes on. Only then I noticed the other two, dressed identically, all wrapped in black hooded. They held torches and carefully swept the surroundings. The train might not have stopped because of the storm that looked incredibly quiet right then.
- Thank you again, the young mother said with a smile.
I tried to give her her smile back. She must have thought I was shy when my attention was simply drawn to something else. I approached closer to the window. I moved the handful. The door had been blocked from outside. I crossed to the next wagon. It was blocked too. I watched outside. I could not see the men anymore.
