Title - No Name - Redux
Author - Steven M. Wagner
E-Mail address - wagnersm@mindspring.com
Finished - 24 March 1998
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'

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.'

----------------------------------------------------------------

---------------------------------------------------------------

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