----- No Name - Redux  by Steven M. Wagner -----


Title - No Name - Redux
Author - Steven M. Wagner
E-Mail address - wagnersm@mindspring.com
Rating - PG13 - Disturbing concepts
Category - SA
Keywords - Slave, Skinner, Lone Gunmen, Margaret Scully
Spoiler - None
Summary - Mulder takes Scully out of the country to help with her
     recovery from the events in 'No Name'
Finished - 24 March 1998
Disclaimer - This is a fiction story based on the characters created
     by Chris Carter. No infringement of copyrights held by 10/13
     Productions, Twentieth Century Productions, or Fox Broadcasting
     is intended. All unrecognized characters and plot- lines belong
     to me. Names, characters, and places exist solely within my
     imagination, or are used fictitiously. No connection to any
     person, living or dead, is intended, and any resemblance is
     entirely coincidental. Feel free to distribute, but please keep
     me as the author.
Author's note - This is a story where some fairly nasty ideas are
     considered. Slavery, rape, assault, are events referenced, but
     nothing is seen or described. The reader is forewarned..
This story is a sequel to 'No Name' and how Scully is cured of the
     events that occurred in 'No Name.'
  
-------------------------------
No Name - Redux by Steve Wagner
-------------------------------
  
  Six months after purchase Sikes House Nitro, West Virginia
  
  Fox Mulder leaned back in his chair, taking a break from the profile
he had been working on. A faint noise, maybe the closing of a file
folder, maybe the rustling of a few sheets of paper, made him look
over at the couch. He studied for a moment the woman, once his
partner, now his property and charge, sitting on it. Bright blue eyes
intently looking at him through wirerimmed eyeglasses, the red hair
and porcelain complexion of the Anglo- Irish, a trim figure, she was
as beautiful as she had been when she had first walked into his office
in the basement of the Hoover Building over 6 years ago.
  
  But his eyes caught the glint of light off the polished metal collar
around her trim neck. That, and the memory of the Gothic "S" brand on
her hip, reminded him that she was no longer Dr Dana Katherine Scully,
FBI Special Agent, but now Red, a trained harem girl, a sex toy. And,
perhaps the worse part of it, she was aware of what she had been, and
sadly, what she had become.
  
  "I am done with reviewing the case file, Mas.. Mulder," her soft
alto was heard. He was trying to break her of the training that had
been given her when she had been at Alcatraz. They had done nothing to
the keen intellect that she had been blessed with, so he was giving
her FBI cases to review as well. He didn't know if it was helping or
not, but she seemed to enjoy the work.
  
  "Good, Red," he said. "What are your findings?"
  
  "I can find nothing unusual. The local Coroner did his job well."
  
  The sound of a car door closing caused them both to jerk. The
courier from the FBI had come and gone three days earlier, and the
delivery from the grocery store in the closest small town wasn't due
until the next day. He got up and looked out the window. His eyes
widened when he saw who was climbing the stairs to the front porch.
  
  A banging of the knocker heralded the voice heard through the
century-old oak of the front door. "Fox Mulder, I know you are in
there. Open the door." A woman's voice was heard, one they both
recognized. Margaret Scully, Dana's mother, was at the door.
  
  <Oh God! Not Mother!> shot through Scully's mind. She was ashamed of
herself, ashamed of what she had become. She had been a professional
woman with a career. A respected member of a respected profession, and
now she was nothing but a toy for a man that didn't want a toy. And
stood horrified as Mulder ushered her mother into the parlor of the
house.
  
  "Mistress Scully," Dana said, curtsying deep to this free woman,
trying to keep the terror out of her voice.
  
  "Let me see you," a voice that Dana wasn't certain she had ever
wanted to hear after that last phone call just before the branding. A
voice that had comforted her through many pains, was there again. She
stood straight as her father had taught her, trying to compose
herself. "No changes that I can see," Dana heard.
  
  "There were none, Mistress," Dana offered.
  
  "What are you called?" Margaret Scully asked.
  
  "Red is a name that pleased the guards and that the Master uses."
  
  Margaret gave a quick look at Mulder, he nodded.
  
  "Has anyone mistreated you?"
  
  "No, Mistress. My Master has not hurt me in any way."
  
  "Shall we sit, Marge," Mulder asked.
  
  After Marge and Mulder had sat down, a half expected question was
asked. "Do you remember anything from before the training facility?"
Margaret asked the entity that wore her daughter's body.
  
  Dana drew her breath in. She remembered everything, the beatings,
the rapes or as they euphemistically called it doxy training, her
horror at the auction, her even greater horror at seeing her best
friend seeing her as a slave. "No, Mistress. I can remember nothing
from before halfway through the training. They told us that they
mindwiped us so that we would not be tortured with the memory of the
pain we had caused the innocent." Not all of it was a lie, but her own
mindwipe had not occurred. And would Mulder support her in this bit of
deception.
  
  "She is right. They chemically induce amnesia in the prisoners about
half way through the training. Their memory is gone," Mulder said.
  
  Dana looked up at her Master, gratitude in her eyes. She would be
spared the shame, and her mother the horror. Better that she feel that
her daughter is dead, than in the half-life of being a slave.
  
  Margaret sat back, almost looking smaller as she sighed. "I was
afraid of that. They finally took my last daughter from me," she said
bitterly. "I will not take my sorrow and pain out on you," she said
looking at Dana. "It is not your fault whose body you inhabit. I'll
leave now."
  
  "Mistress. My Master gets so few visitors here. Would you like some
refreshment before taking your leave?" Dana hurriedly asked, her eyes
bright on this woman that had borne her.
  
  Margaret looked at her for a moment before responding, "Yes, thank
you. It is a rather long drive back."
  
  Dana brought out tea and a tray of cookies and watched as her mother
and Mulder talked, and as the good little slave she tried to be,
offering comment only when asked.
  
  But soon the teapot was empty and Margaret rose to leave. "Thank you
for having me," she said. Turning to Mulder, "Fox, mind if I come out
next weekend?"
  
  "Of course not, Margaret," he said. "I'll walk you out to your car."
  
  Standing next to the car, Margaret asked the question that Mulder
was afraid that she would ask, "Is Dana really gone?"
  
  Mulder stood still for a second, not wanting to lie to his friend,
but Dana wanted it this way, and until he could think of a reason
otherwise, he would respect her wishes, he nodded. "I'm so sorry,
Margaret," he said giving her a quick hug.
  
  Her shoulder's drooped as Margaret lost her final hope for her
daughter's survival. Then stood up straight. "Thank you, Fox. And
thank you for taking care of what still exists of my daughter."
  
  "You're welcome," Mulder said, feeling that the words being spoken
didn't match the reality of the situation. A strong woman finally had
to face that the remaining person what should continue her legacy, her
remaining daughter, was truly gone. And of course he would take care
of the physical shell, even if the soul was gone. Dana Scully had been
his partner for the better part of 6 years, he owed her that. "Good
by."
  
  Margaret Scully nodded once, then drove off. Mulder waited until she
was out of sight, then turned back to the century old farm house. He
could see a pale face through the parlor window curtains. He returned
to the house. Stepping into the parlor, he caught the tears running
down Dana's face as she looked out the window.
  
  "Red, what's wrong," Mulder said, seeing the silent sobs rack
Scully's trim frame.
  
  "Mama, Mama," Dana softly cried, her arms wrapped protectively
around her middle, calling out for the comfort she dearly wanted. For
the mother she could no longer claim. "I need to take a nap, Master.
I'll be in my room," she said, picking up the tea things and carrying
then into the kitchen.
  
  -*-*-*-
  
  A week later
  
  Tap. Tap. Tap.
  
  Mulder took a sleepy look at the clock, the red numbers told him it
was half after six and time for breakfast. "Please come in."
  
  The bedroom door opened and Red came in carrying a breakfast tray.
She had started bringing him breakfast in bed after she had discovered
that he would not allow her into his bed. "I have to do something to
serve my Master," had been her only comment.
  
  "Good Morning, Mulder," he heard Red say, his mind snapping back to
the present. She was smiling as she put the tray down.
  
  "Looking forward to your mother's visit," he asked, watching to
gauge her response.
  
  She froze for a moment, a plate cover hovering over a plate of eggs
and bacon. "Yes I am," she said smiling. "It will be fun watching you
two talk. Anything else, Mulder?"
  
  "No, nothing else," he replied. He watched her leave before enjoying
his breakfast.
  
  Mulder could smell the cinnamon of the coffeecake that Dana was
baking as he walked into the kitchen. <She's really gone all out,>
Mulder thought. Mulder knew how important her mother was to Dana. And
how important Dana was to Margaret. And now to be seeing each other,
but not being able to touch as mother and daughter. It was horrible to
him to see Dana waiting by the window for her mother's car, knowing
that as happy Dana would be seeing her mother arrive, her heart would
be ripped from her when she saw her mother leave.
  
  "There she is," Dana called out, watching the blue Taurus pulled up
in front of the house. She quickly walked to the door, opening it,
then helping her mother carry in a couple of photoalbums.
  
  The coffee was poured and Mulder watched Dana glow in her mother's
praise of the cake. Now the two women were sitting on the couch, one
of the photoalbums open on the table in front of them. Glancing over
at Dana, her voice cracking slightly Margaret said. "Red has no memory
of the life Dana had before she was arrested. I'm going to go over
some of the family photographs with Red."
  
  Mulder glanced over at the two women, their heads together over the
albums. Dana was looking intently at the photographs as if she was
memorizing the words that Margaret were telling her.
  
  "Red, that necklace looks uncomfortable. Why don't you take if off,"
Margaret suggested to Red.
  
  Everybody froze for a second knowing that it wasn't an ornament that
Margaret had referred to. Red looked bechechingly at Mulder for
permission. When Mulder nodded, she got up and walked over to her
master, kneeling in front of him. A twist of a key, and Mulder pulled
the collar from around Dana's neck. Her hand went up, feeling her neck
bare for the first time in over a year. With a brave smile at Mulder,
she got up and returned to her mother and the albums.
  
  He sat the collar on a side table as he watched the two of them. All
too soon, he saw Dana start to glance around the room. He sat still as
he watched her become more agitated, started to hyperventilate. It was
the classic anxiety attack in process, Dana's eyes darting around the
room.
  
  "You Ok, honey?" asked Margaret.
  
  Mulder wondered what was causing the anxiety. Red had been the model
of a well mannered servant. There was nothing that should be causing
this. At Margaret's worried glance, he shrugged his shoulders. He
hated to see what was happening, he had hoped that seeing her mother
would help her. The anxiety attack was an unwelcome development.
  
  "I'm fine, Mistress Scully," Red said looking up at her mother,
trying to calm her racing pulse. Pain, the memories of being tied to a
post and whipped came bubbling up from where she had buried them. <I'm
going to hurt. But I haven't done anything wrong!> The memories and
thought tumbled through her mind. One hand quivered as she reached
over for the coffee pot and she knocked over Mistress Scully's cup.
"Oh, God. I'm sorry," Red exclaimed, watching coffee spread across the
table. "I'll clean it up." Red jumped up, head turning as she searched
the room, looking for somebody she didn't know if she wanted to find.
  
  "Honey," Margaret's voice was heard, the tones soft, the tones a
mother would use. Her hand reaching up to touch Red's.
  
  "You couldn't have helped knocking over the coffee cup, Red," Mulder
said, getting up to help clean up the mess. It took but a moment to
clean up the spilt coffee, all the while trying to comfort the
increasingly agitated Red.
  
  Margaret and Mulder watched Red's hands come up to her mouth for a
second then the young woman collapse onto the floor. Margaret dropped
to the floor pulling her daughter's shell into her arms. "It's ok,
honey, it's ok," the calming litany of a mother.
  
  <What changed,> echoed through Mulder's mind, thinking over that
past few minutes. Then thought of the slave collar sitting on the
table next to his chair. He rushed to retrieve it.
  
  Margaret glared at Mulder as he came striding up, slave collar in
hand. "She doesn't need that thing," she hissed.
  
  "I'm so sorry mother. I failed you. I failed Father. I gave into
them," Scully whispered.
  
  Another glance at her daughter's partner, then Margaret spoke. "You
didn't fail anybody You're still with us."
  
  "But, mother..."
  
  Despite the pain in the room, Margaret smiled hearing the words she
had thought she would never hear again.
  
  "... I tried fighting them. But after rapes and beatings, it became
easier to give in then resist. Then I liked what I was doing, pleasing
the guards that came to me. I failed you, Mother. I'm so sorry," Dana
said, the final words coming out between sobs. "Forgive me, mother?"
she said softly.
  
  "There is no reason for me to forgive you. Honey," she said, holding
her daughter's head to her breast. "You don't need my or Fox's
forgiveness, you need to forgive yourself. You survived. And that's
the important thing. People have given in so that they survived for
centuries. You fought well, but there were too many of them."
  
  Margaret glanced up at Mulder, the earlier glares of anger changed
to looks of gratitude. Her daughter was back.
  
  -*-*-*-
  
  A year later
  
  Fox Mulder walked down the dusty street, nodding and talking with
passing acquaintances. He was dressed much the same as everybody else,
loose cotton shirt and trousers, sandals, straw hat. The only thing
separating him were the steel framed Ray-Bans he wore.
  
  Dana Scully, MD, looked from the medical chart to the patient.
Prenatal care had been a new idea for the peasant women and their
families. But once started, she had been kept busy with patients. A
quick glance at the wall clock, <And where is that partner of mine?>
the thought came out of the beginnings of hunger pangs.
  
  A trip to the Post Office had been a nice break in the day. A couple
of letters from home, a box of much needed medical supplies, and
stopping for a glass of beer at the corner saloon had made for a
pleasant afternoon.
  
  <Need more gauze,> Scully thought checking her supplies in the glass
fronted cabinet older than she. The afternoon has passed quickly,
patient following patient. It felt good, being an active, important
member of the community. She was making a difference and it felt good.
  
  And now to the medical office to pick up Scully and go home for
supper. The redhead's treatment had gone well once she had
acknowledged that she was still alive to her mother. She was able to
not wear the slave collar for days at a time, and had even talked back
to Mulder without immediate fear that she would be punished. But the
second anxiety attack while shopping by herself had told them that her
treatment had plateaued. A change of venue was decided to be the best
solution.
  
  And Margaret's report of black dressed men cruising her neighborhood
told them that the Consortium were going to be at their doorstep soon.
And then, a mindwipe would be the least of their worries. So Scully
and Mulder made arraignments to take the Underground Railroad to
somewhere in South America. And a chance word from Byers clued Mulder
into a problem that awaited them in their new neighborhood, an
unmarried couple would be noticed. So, in a small ceremony, Margaret
watched her daughter become a wife.
  
  "Doctor?" the woman asked. "You're married, where is the ring," the
woman asked, a smile on her face.
  
  Scully smiled at the question. It was joking around, a sign that she
was accepted as a member of the community. "Where it always is," she
said, pulling the chain up from the bodice of her dress, the wedding
band hanging there. She didn't want to chance losing it while
examining patients, so it hung between her breasts on a chain.
  
  She took a look at it too. She had never expected to be married,
least of all to her partner, Fox Mulder. But it was a decision forced
on them by the situation. She remembered the motley group, her mother
as Matron-of-Honor, Skinner as Best Man, the Lone Gunmen as the only
witnesses. She smiled, remembering Frohike asking to be allowed to
give her away. He did.
  
  "Remembering your man," the peasant woman asked, an even bigger
smile on her face.
  
  Scully shook her head, she had never been able to hide anything from
these people, they were too observant. "Yes I was. And now I need to
finish this examination before he gets here."
  
  And since coming to a village with a name longer then the main
street, they had been accepted into the community. The local medical
board hadn't looked much into the history of a doctor that was willing
to work at the clinic in a small isolated village.
  
  Mulder turned the corner onto the unpaved sidestreet the clinic and
their home was one. He still remembered the first time their had been
awakened by a knock at 2 in the morning. They had thought it was going
to be a trama case and Mulder would have to play ER nurse. Instead, it
was a couple escaping on the Underground Railroad. Mulder and Scully
became Station Masters that night. Scully checking the slave's body
for injury before Mulder sat the slave down and started him on his
road to recovery. They laughed and cried in each other's arms that
night.
  
  Scully was looking down at a chart making a few notes when a knock
on the door frame got her attention, and the sight of a hazel-eyed man
brought a smile to her face. It was Mulder. She was going to be ok.
  
  The end
  
  -----------------------------------
  Steve Wagner - The Unnumbered naXis
  wagnersm@mindspring.com
  Cary, North Carolina, USA
  
  "WHY NOT seize the pleasure at once, How often is happiness
destroyed by preparation, foolish preparation!"
  Jane Austin, (1775-1817) English novelist

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