Castles In the Air
By Anna Otto
anna_otto@hotmail.com
10/08/97

Disclaimer: The characters of Fox Mulder and Dana Scully belong to Chris 
Carter, 1013 productions, and FOX. No copyright infringement is intended, 
and no monetary profit is made. 

Rating: PG

Classification: VA

Summary: Mulder tells Scully a fairy tale.

Feedback: Send me some!

Spoilers: None

Archive: Yes, anywhere, as long as my name and the rest are still attached.


	I look from the height of twenty floors at the metropolis below and 
above me. Truly, one city that never sleeps is New York. Neon lights flicker 
and merge, creating unexpected ornaments. The night has never been so bright,
so volatile with colors. What crazy artist painted this dizzying picture?
 
	I listen to the breath of the man standing behind me. Suddenly, 
slight movements of the air and soft sounds are not nearly enough to 
accompany this spectacle unfurling beyond my windows. His voice is what I 
need desperately. 

	"Tell me a story, Mulder," I ask without turning around.

	"What kind of story?"

	I hear the fleeting smile in his question and the curiosity that I 
hurry to satisfy. "A fairy tale."

	"Happy or sad?" 

	His voice catches on the last word.

	"Sad," I surprise myself with the choice. But my companion seems 
nonplused. His face concentrates in thought and he exhales on the glass a 
few times, creating a spot of perspiration. Long, agile fingers draw a 
picture of a young girl. 

	"What's her name?" Soon, the painting will disappear, but I am 
trying to remember her features, to fill in the details that the watery 
medium doesn't allow. 

	"Natasha. She lived a long time before us. A couple of centuries 
ago. She was born in a small European country, in a poor family. Her mother 
was a seamstress, and her father was a lumberjack. She had a little brother, 
about five years younger than herself. His name was Sergey. He was a very 
mischievous, energetic boy, and he caused a lot of trouble."

	"Did she love him?"

	"Oh yes. She adored him, and he loved her too, very much. He looked 
up to her, and he asked her many questions about the big world outside of 
their cozy house, and he knew that his big sister would always protect him. 
Their parents were busy most of the time, and it was Natasha's responsibility
to look after Sergey. But the children were happy together, and couldn't 
imagine life any other way."

	"How old was Natasha?"

	"Back then, she was fourteen, and her brother was nine. Two kids 
just like all the other kids their age, except there was something special 
about the boy. He could sense the gold."

	"Sense the gold? What does it mean?" I am intrigued.

	"Whenever there was gold close to Sergey, it would become like a 
compass needle, orienting itself toward North. If he went by a jewelry 
store, all chains, rings, and bracelets shifted, moving closer to him. 
Something in the boy acted as a magnet for gold."

	"I wish I could do that," I sigh dreamily. My chain with cross is 
one of the very few pieces of gold that I own, and I certainly do not wish 
for more. However, such a strange ability as that of Sergey is curiously 
tempting. It's almost as if the old hunger for precious metal, hunger that 
lived through many human generations, surfaces inside me.

	"I understand that desire," Mulder nods his head. 

	I sense a "but" coming.

	"But Sergey wished he couldn't. And so did his sister. You see, when 
gold was propelled toward him, the boy felt sick. His head spinned, and he 
felt nauseous. Sometimes, he even fainted. His parents had to get rid of 
their wedding rings, and they kept no other things in their house that had 
any gold in them. It wasn't hard to achieve, considering their relative 
poverty. 

	But even though at times life seemed hard, the family drew strength 
from their love. They were going to celebrate the upcoming Christmas in 
style. The father brought a beautiful green tree, and the children dressed 
it up. The mother cooked a delicious dinner, and everything was ready for a 
glorious evening."

	"What happened?" I ask because I know something terrible is 
approaching. It is a sad tale, after all.

	"There was a knock on the door, and the father went to answer it. 
But instead of guests, always welcome on this sacred holiday, two burglars 
burst in and hit him over the head. They were big men, and they wore black 
masks so no one would recognize them. Natasha tried to hide Sergey, and 
their mother tried to hide them both, but they were no match for the 
intruders. The men punched them, and then they kidnapped the boy."

	I imagine their little house devoid of warmth and laughter of the 
child and my stomach ties in knots. "Why would they do such a thing?"

	"Well, they were thieves, and even more, they were hunters for gold. 
In those days, it was popular to look for buried treasures. Sergey could be 
a great resource in this pursuit. And just imagine how simple a theft would 
be with that kid around to help out!

	And so, the little boy disappeared. Natasha, her parents, and all 
their friends searched the neighborhood many times, trying to find him, but 
everybody knew that the burglars must have left the town a long time ago. 
The poor girl was inconsolable. She cried every day, and at nights she 
imagined all kinds of horrible things that kidnappers were doing to her 
brother. Her mother was sick with grief, her seamstress business was 
long-forgotten. Her father hardly spoke to anyone anymore. Life in their 
little house became unbearable for Natasha, and she decided to leave and go 
look for her brother.

	Before the Christmas, she was a careless, happy girl. After, she 
became a somber young woman, who had a goal and determination to achieve it. She
packed lightly, hoping to find occasional work along the way, and buy
the food and things she needed."

	My partner turns away from the glowing windows. The portrait of a 
girl has already dissolved, just a dirty spot left for the hotel maid to 
clean up. He sits on the bed, face hidden by shadows. I am afraid to destroy 
the mood, and I patiently wait for him to speak up again. When he does, his 
voice is tinged with melancholy.

	"Natasha traveled a long way. Everywhere she went, she asked if 
anyone saw Sergey. She had no luck, but instead of dying, her hope only grew 
stronger. Several years passed, and still she walked. The girl met many 
people, good and bad. Once, she was thrown in jail for stealing. That day, 
she was very hungry and she only wanted to have some food. Another time, 
some guys beat her up trying to steal a few hard-earned coins that she had. 
Other days, she would be invited for dinners in friendly houses, where weary 
travelers were welcome. But Natasha made no friends, and she always left 
alone in search of the next city.

	Once, she met another traveler just like her. He was an extraordinary 
man, talented in many ways, a scientist and a believer at heart. He possessed
incredible knowledge of anatomy and medicine, and he was a great philosopher.
But his theories were startling and unwelcome in his time, and the man was 
forced to run from the powers that be. Church cursed him, police hounded 
him, and his colleagues sneered at him."

	"What did he believe in?" 

	When Mulder speaks of the man, admiration and respect are apparent. 

	"Andrey, that was his name, did a lot of research on the structure 
of human body. He invented ways to treat life-threatening diseases such as 
consumption and pneumonia, ways that are widely accepted now, but could not 
possibly be back then. Many people died from them, receiving treatment from 
lesser doctors. Andrey was an accomplished medic, but I also told you he was 
a philosopher. He believed that the entire planet was a giant, wholesome 
organism. Every continent was like a part of the human body, inseparable and 
working in tandem with others. That's why all the countries, all the people 
had to stop fighting with each other, and start working together, helping 
the world to heal itself."

	"In other words, Andrey was a humanitarian."

	Mulder laughs at my summary, but I do not get offended.

	"How like you to put things in perspective, Scully. Yes, I suppose 
he was. Natasha didn't often tell her story to anyone, but she told it to 
Andrey. He was touched, and he decided that he might as well help her in her 
search for the lost sibling. Together, they saw many cities, many countries, 
and they endured much hardship and much joy. They drank from the same cup, 
broke the same loaf of bread, and used the same blanket. 

	At twenty-four, Natasha was a beautiful woman. Her clothes were 
ragged and dirty, but her eyes shined from the prettiest face, and her hair 
was spun gold. Andrey was older, and quite handsome. He had the most 
wonderful smile. They made a striking couple to any passersby, and many 
women and men who saw them together blessed their union. The travelers 
smiled to each other, for they were not lovers, and they were not wed in a 
church. But Andrey was wishing at times that they were, for he loved his 
companion, and he hoped that she loved him."

	There is a lump in my throat, and I wonder how it appeared. I sense 
that Natasha didn't feel the same way, but I do not expect for my partner to 
clarify this matter. A drop of moisture slides from my eye. There is too 
much dust in this hotel, definitely. Silently, I urge for the tale to 
continue.

	"There was a terrible plague in one of the cities they visited. Many 
were dying, and their houses were torched, because it was believed that if 
one breathed the same air as the dead, they would die too. I suppose we 
would call it a bacterially transmitted disease. Andrey tried to cure a few 
people, but even his skills were not enough in this battle."

	I can guess what happens next. "Did he get infected?"

	"Yes, sadly enough. Andrey got sick, and Natasha sat by his side 
throughout the ordeal, trying to breathe life into him, wishing it were her 
feverish and dying. But he died nonetheless. However, young woman has not 
been affected by the contagion. Grieving and desolate, she continued her 
journey. The promise of seeing Sergey has never been so bittersweet and 
luminous.

	Natasha tried contacting her parents, and one day bad news from one 
of their friends reached her. Her father was dead, and her mother became 
insane. Trapped alone inside some nightmare that only her eyes could see, 
she went from room to room, looking under beds and chairs for her children."

	Mulder stops for breath, and I want to touch him, to turn his face 
toward me, to make sure that his eyes are dry. Instead, I look at the small 
patch of sky hidden behind the skyscrapers. Two am and twenty-four hours 
until the night is over.

	He clears his throat, and his mesmerizing words weave the story 
once again. 

	"Several months later, Natasha came upon a picturesque little 
village, and while she sat in a roadside tavern, she listened to many rumors 
of the young king who ruled the country. He was rich, gorgeous, and ruthless.
His castle was built upon a tall mountain, surrounded by thick woods. Armed 
guards and cruel dogs protected it from the peasants. Nevertheless, Natasha 
decided that she had to look at it and talk to the people inside.

	When she approached an awe-inspiring but ominous structure, several 
dogs attacked her viciously. Trying desperately to get away, she ran but 
stumbled and almost believed herself dead. But the dogs were stopped by the 
young master who looked at the fallen woman with unexpected tenderness and 
love. As Natasha tried to collect her bearings and comprehend why the cruel 
king was helping her, she heard a voice from the past. She would recognize 
it anywhere, because it was the voice that spoke to her in dreams, the 
only one she truly loved and longed for.

	Yes, it was Sergey. Brother and sister hugged each other tightly, 
and both shed tears for the years they spent without each other. Natasha was 
truly happy at that moment."

	I smile, because I feel happy too. For Natasha, and for Sergey, and 
even for their mother. Maybe, she will stop looking for her children under 
the bed now. But my joy is short-lived. I am getting a sad story, as 
requested. 

	"After the initial surprise passed, the woman looked over the man in 
front of her. Twenty years old, impeccably dressed, beautiful, and 
intelligent - the king not only by title, but also by appearance and bearing.
And then she saw it: the gold rings on his fingers, the many chains that 
hugged his slender neck, the glistening crown in the dark hair. Puzzled by 
the fact that Sergey was not ill from gold in such close proximity, she 
questioned it. The young man smiled and explained to his sister that after 
training his ability, he honed it to the degree where a mere twitch of his 
fingers would send all gold flying in his direction. He was not getting sick 
anymore, on the contrary, it gave him a sense of satisfaction. 

	Natasha lived as a princess in the castle. The king made sure that 
she lacked nothing, and her every desire was fulfilled. However, as days 
went by, she realized that something vital was missing from her brother. 
The rumors she heard at the tavern were true, Sergey was a cruel man. The 
only kindness he had was for his sister. He ruled his country with a firm 
hand and he never thought twice about sacrificing human lives, for any 
reason. His prime minister and military commander were the burglars who 
kidnapped him. All the wealth they acquired was through Sergey's special 
skill, after he actually found a few buried treasures. These revelations hit 
Natasha with the force of a speeding train. There were no trains yet at that 
time, but I am sure she would have appreciated my somewhat clich‚ comparison. 

	Young woman thought about all the sacrifices she made to find her 
brother, how many people she lost, and how disappointed she actually was at 
the result of her search. Sergey became just as ruthless and hungry for gold 
as the kidnappers who took him. She loved him still, but he was not the 
same and would never be the same."

	"Did she ever remember Andrey?"

	My tentative question startles my partner, and he shakes his head 
affirmatively.

	"How could she ever forget? He was her companion, the only person 
who ever helped her in the quest, who shared her grief. Natasha thought 
about him constantly, and she kept wishing that he were with her to share 
her happiness too, however tainted it was. She couldn't help thinking that 
if Andrey didn't join her in the journey culminating in this castle, they 
would never have ended up in that cursed contaminated city, and he would not 
have died."

	"She shouldn't have blamed herself. After all, she couldn't very 
well protect him from the bacteria," I try to reason with him. I know it's 
useless, for how can I console someone who lives in a fairy tale?

	"Natasha knew that, Scully. But she did love Andrey, even if she 
rarely showed it to him. She wished that she had. She also wished that her 
father were still alive or that at least, she had a chance to say goodbye to 
him. She wished her mother were not crazy and she could see her son and 
recognize him. Finally, she wished that Sergey were more like the little boy 
from eleven years ago that she missed so much."

	Mulder's voice is deep with compassion. I take his hand and tread 
through his fingers. I whisper softly: "What happened to them after?" His 
eyes are closed, and his mind is faraway in the distant past he is 
describing. 

	"Natasha lived in her brother's beautiful castle for the rest of her 
life. Though the woman was unhappy, she still had her brother, for whom she 
searched over a decade. If Andrey were still alive, I guess she might have 
left with him, but even fairy tales have their limitations. And Sergey 
seemed delighted to have his big sister close to him."

	"If Natasha never found her brother, she would not have been content 
either," I offer a theory.

	"You are right as always, Scully. But I suppose that hope of finding 
him, the search in itself, were enough for her at times. Especially while 
Andrey was still with her."

	Mulder's tone is wistful. I think about the years we all spend 
running after something even we are not sure we really want. Maybe, he 
thinks about the memory and how it can play cruel tricks on us. We sit 
together on a windowsill and look at the city shimmering and dancing with 
multitude of lights, cars, and people that also never go to sleep. No 
`happily ever after' for any of them.

	The new morning and the promise of elusive bliss are only two 
hours away. I breathe on the glass and draw a picture of another young girl 
that I hope to find some day.

	Her delicate features slowly melt and slide down the window in 
teary tracks.

END

Author's Note:
This is what happens after you spend a couple of nights reading Brothers 
Grimm and Hans Christian Andersen to your little nephew. I felt like I 
wanted to write a fairy tale, too. But I cannot write anything outside of XF 
universe (well, actually I just don't want to), so this is the result ;-) 
By the way, the idea of a tale is a far-out variation of a story I heard 
before, but I honestly don't know whom to thank for that.
(I just have to write something other than VA... maybe next time <g>)
PLEASE let me know what you think! I live for feedback, 
anna_otto@hotmail.com