From:             "JKHC" <johannah@baileygrp.com>
Date sent:        Wed, 24 Dec 1997 23:53:00 -0500

Title:  Faces Of The Future
Author:  Johannah Hupp-Clark
Rating: G
Spoilers:Beyond The Sea, Quagmire
Summary:  Pre-XF, Dana Scully draws a picture.

Disclaimer:  I don't own any of the characters contained herein.  They are
owned by a creative mind with the name
Chris Carter.  I may possibly have invented Ismael, though the name is
acreditted to Herman Melville.  Thank you to 
those creative souls who have gone before, imagining great things and
putting them to paper or screen so that we, the
public have the great fortune to view them.  I am merely a struggling
writer with no money, so please do not sue me.


FACES OF THE FUTURE
By Johannah Hupp-Clark


Attleboro, MA  1976

	The lightening outside created a strobe light effect through the window of
the small bedroom.  It highlighted
the form of a young girl seated in the center of the double size bed.  Her
face was turned toward the window, cast 
slightly upwards to watch the crackling streaks above the great oaks
surrounding the suburban house.  She remained 
immobile even when the thunder rattled the windows with its proximity.
	She did turn, however, when a large black lab leaped up next to her,
nestling its head into her chest.  
Soothingly, she ran her small hands over the dog's ears and down it neck
and back.  Leaning closer, she whispered 
quietly, trying in vain to allay the dog's fears.  Finally, she gave up and
simply hugged the beast, petting it idly.
	Ishmael had been afraid of storms as long as Dana had owned him.  He had
been a stray, and followed her 
home four years ago.  He had been her constant companion through two
relocations.  Since her father was in the 
Navy and frequently reassigned, the family moved often, following.  Friends
were difficult to obtain and maintain being 
a Navy brat, and the dog was allowed to remain in the household, officially
as belonging to all the children.  From the 
first, however, it was obvious that Ishmael was really Dana's.  She was the
one he always ran to and consistently 
obeyed.
	Ishmael had been named for the narrator of Dana and her father's favorite
book, Moby Dick.  Dana had taken 
to calling her father Ahab as a pet name and he in turn, had called her
Starbuck.  Bill Jr., Dana's older brother, had 
commented that they should have named it Queequeg, when the dog had gone
through a chewing stage.  Dana had 
laughed and shook her head.
	Now, as Ishmael settled into his usual place beside his master, Dana
turned to watch the storm again.  She felt 
her eyes growing heavy and leaned back against the pillows, intending to
rest for just a moment.  A few minutes later, 
she jolted awake, positive that someone had entered the room.  Looking
around in the darkness, she could see nothing 
and she was about to settle back when she realized that some one was
sitting very still on the edge of the bed.  The 
person appeared to be very light as Dana could not feel the mattress
listing that way at all.  
	Dana opened her mouth to scream, but paused.  She did not feel alarmed at
the figure's presence, in fact, she 
had a sense of safety and protecting.  Outside, the clouds parted,
revealing the full moon, and a cool, caressing light 
shone on the figure's face.
	It was a man, not as old as her father, but not as young as most of the
new recruits, either.  He had dark hair, 
cut a bit longer than the crew cuts military personal sported, and a stray
lock hung over his left eye.  His eyes were dark, 
and looked older than the face that contained them, but deep within was a
glowing spark of something intangible.  He 
smiled, but it was a sad smile, filled with longing for something far away.
 Dana opened her mouth again, but not to 
scream.
	"Who are you?"  The man just shook his head silently and Dana thought it
odd that she did not feel the bed 
shift with the movement.  Then he raised his hand in a gesture of parting
and faded away with the moonbeams as the 
clouds covered the sky once again.  Dana shook her head and looked around
the room again, but it was empty.  She 
stretched and opened her eyes, yawning.  *Wow, what a dream.* she thought
as she sat up, noticing that the storm had 
passed and the moon was shining on the wet leaves of the trees.
	Switching on her bedside light, Dana rummaged around her desk to locate a
piece of plain paper and a pencil 
to record the face she'd seen.  Twenty minutes later, she was satisfied
that she had created the best likeness she could 
and set the pencil down.  Looking at the picture again, she realized that
it was indeed a very good likeness, and the 
best piece of artwork she ever done.  She didn't draw much and her pictures
were usually the awkward sketches of a 
child.  This picture had smooth, sure lines with careful shading.  There
was almost a life to the portrait.
Quickly, she picked up the pencil again and tried another drawing, but all
she could manage was the typical drawings 
she'd always produced.  She sighed, puzzled but not overly disturbed. 
Quietly, as it was late, she replaced her art 
materials, and left the picture of the mysterious stranger lying on the
desk.

	"Hey, Dana!  Wake up!"  Charlie poked his head into her room the next
morning.  "You're gonna be late for 
school!"  Dana sat up and looked at the clock.  It read 7:15.  Charlie was
right, she would be late.  She jumped out of 
bed and pulled on the first things out of her drawer.  Fortunately, they
matched.  Grabbing up her shoes, she raced out 
of the room and down to the kitchen.  The picture fluttered slighted,
forgotten, as she flew past.
	"Bye, Mom.  See you after school."  Maggie Scully smiled as her younger
daughter grabbed two apples on her 
way out the door.  *Always such a healthy eater,* she mused; most kids
would have grabbed a cookie out of the jar, 
but not Dana.  Dana went out of her rushed way to get apples from the
fridge.
	"Mommy, what's for lunch today?"  Charlie wandered into the kitchen, a
smear of toothpaste on his cheek.  
Charlie didn't have to be at school until eight, unlike his older siblings.
 With a damp cloth, Maggie wiped his face 
clean.
	"Peanut butter and jelly, crackers and cheese, and a cookie."  Charlie
pouted, as usual.
	"I dun want cheese.  I dun like it."  He crossed his arms, making himself
look like an absurdly small version 
of his brother.
	"How about if you have meat tomorrow?  I don't have time to change it
today."  Charlie nodded happily.  
He was easy to please.
	"Can I go now, Mommy?  Robby and Davy want me to play before school." 
Maggie nodded and the little 
boy scurried out the door, his Lost In Space lunch box in his hand.
	With all the children off to school for the day, Maggie went about her
daily routine.  Although she knew she 
should let the kids clean for themselves, she enjoyed the chore and it
filled the time.  When William Scully was away 
at sea, she often felt lonely.  She eagerly awaited his frequent letters,
and never failed to read the appropriate parts to 
each of the children.  In the meantime, she did typical housewife things: 
cooking and cleaning.
	In Bill Jr. and Charlie's room, she made their beds and picked up the
laundry.  She tidied Bill Jr.'s desk so 
that it would be ready for him to do homework on went he got home from
football practice.  She picked up Charlie's 
tinker toys and put them on his low worktable.  The boys were reasonably
neat, keeping their belongings where they 
belonged, until needed.  She wished Melissa could be as tidy.
	She went into Missy's room, which looked like a hurricane had blown
through it as usual.  "Oh, Missy."  Maggie 
sighed as she began to clean.  Clothes were all over the floor, having
failed to be appropriate today.  Those articles she 
knew were clean, she hung up or folded and put away.  The others she added
to the laundry pile from the boys' room.  
She scooped up the numerous wads of paper that littered the floor around
the wastepaper basket, and, although her 
curiosity begged her to, she did not look at them.  The top of the desk was
cluttered with trinkets and knickknacks, 
never being used for homework.  She stood up those that had fallen over. 
Missy's room (or Missy and Dana's as it 
had been in the last house) always took the longest.
	Maggie left the growing pile of laundry at the top of the steps and headed
for Dana's room.  Dana usually tidied 
her room before going to school, and even with today's neglect, it was the
quickest.  A small pile of dirty clothing lay 
right inside the door and Maggie added it to the laundry waiting at the top
of the steps.  She made the bed, which she 
usually didn't have to do.  As she was about to leave, her eye caught the
picture laying on the middle of the desk.  She 
picked it up and studied it.  It was not the kind of work she would expect
from Dana, but then Dana had a way of 
surprising her mother.  Careful not to smudge it, she opened Dana's file
drawer and place the picture in an empty 
folder, leaving the heading blank.
	The picture lay undisturbed in the drawer, having been forgotten during
that school day and all those following.  
It went unnoticed through several more transfers and through college and
medical school.  It was packed into a box 
with the rest of Dana's childhood files and stored away in the top of a
closet when Dana Katherine Scully went to 
work at the FBI against her parents wishes.  It probably would have stayed
hidden away in the top of the hall closet 
forever, if it weren't for the fact that Dana and her partner at the FBI,
Fox Mulder, ran out of folders one night while 
working on paperwork.

Annapolis, MD  1998

	"I'm finished with these expense claim forms.  Where should I put them?" 
Mulder held up the completed pile.
	"In a folder.  And make sure you label it.  Last time, I barely got them
in on time because you didn't label it 
and put another file in with them."  Scully glanced up for the barest
moment from her pile.
	"There aren't anymore folders.  Do you have some?"  Scully looked up
again, but this time her brow puckered 
and she didn't return immediately to her work.
	"Are you sure?  I thought I brought enough . . ."
	"Yeah, I looked."
	"There's an all night copy shop down the block . . .  Wait.  My mom gave
me a box of files that I kept as a kid, 
there might be an extra in with them.  It's up in the top of the hall
closet. On the right, I think."  She gestured in the general 
direction.  "You'll have to get it down, I'm not tall enough."  Mulder
groaned as he stood, stretching muscles that hadn't 
moved in hours.
	He walked over to the closet and swung open the door.  "Even your closets
are neat, Scully.  How do you do 
that?"
	"They only look clean to you because your apartment would make a pig feel
at home."
	Mulder grunted in response as he looked for the box.  "Who lived here
before you, Shaq?  I can barely reach 
the shelf.  Hey!  Hey . . . Umph!"
	"Mulder, are you all right in there?  You better not be making a mess of
my closet."  Scully decided to be on 
the safe side and went to investigate.  "Mulder!"
	Mulder knelt on the floor gathering up papers which covered the entire
floor.  "The box spilled on top of me.  
The bottom was loose."  Scully raised her eyes skyward as she knelt to help
clean up the mess.  "I didn't know you 
were an artist, Scully."
	"What are you talking about?"
	"This . . . picture.  It's really good."  Scully looked up and saw Mulder
studying a piece of paper.  She crawled 
behind him and looked over his shoulder.
	"Oh, my God . . ."  Mulder turned to look at her and Dana Scully found
herself staring into the face she'd seen 
in a dream as a twelve year old child, mirrored on the piece of paper in
his hand.

THE END

So?  What do you think?  E-mail to johannah@baileygrp.com
I might even write a sequel if someone likes it.
	
"You never know when you're making a memory."  Rickie Lee Jones
E pur si muove