The Keeper of Time

Chapter 4 - Alice's plea

Hey readers. Thank you to my two reviewers, as usual, you made my day ! Here is the last installement of part 1. Next chapter will feature a time gap of 8 years, but you'll see that in the end, it should tie all the loose ends I've left here. I hope that you loved my version of Carlisle, Alice and Charlie.

The wind scattered her fiery strands, inflating the white sails that surrounded her as she progressed on a narrow yardam. In the palm of her hand rested a sword, a beautiful blade slightly curved with foreign engravings. The weapon, an extension of her arm, was nearly humming in answer to her demands. It cut, diced, and swished around her in a deadly dance. Below her, the mariners went about their daily chores, no longer gaping at the witch with the red hair. She had won the battle, and saved so many of them. Especially young Calamy, one feat for which the captain would have kissed her. They accepted her now, all of them. The deck was clean, the air heavy with iodine and humidity, the uniforms spotless, and Jack Aubrey's tricorn in view. A uniform fit for the beginning of the 19th century.

And so, Frances danced through the sails, her fiery hair bouncing around her, her sword performing a kata. And she was the Keeper of Time, the witch with her magic sword, bound to help whenever needed, preserver of life. She was strong, stronger than ever. Her swordsmanship enhanced by the sword, a present from a mighty lord whose magic was embedded in the blade. Close to invincible, protected by the Gods who had chosen this path for her. All of it thanks to the necklace that rested between her breast, its weight a mighty reminder of the God's choice. In that very instant, Frances knew. There was no way around it ; she was exactly where she needed to be, what she needed to be.

It was the shuffling of Scully in the bathroom that woke her up. Slowly regaining consciousness, Frances had trouble getting rid of the pure sensation of bliss that had permeated through this dream. Closing her eyes, she swore she could still smell the Ocean, and the feeling of belonging came back. This elation, would she ever reach it?

— "Feeling better?"

Frnaces opened her eyes, meeting Scully's blue, the legist searching for the remnants of a concussion. The young lady shrugged.

— "I'm good actually, not even a cold."

— "For now"

Frances smirked.

— "Right. Thank for your optimism"

At this, Scully repressed a laugh.

— "Optimism is the room next door."

The young woman chuckled at the sarcasm, yet she could not grudge Scully for being right. The legist was the only one grounding Mulder, enough to prevent him from shooting in all directions. Especially since Frances seemed keen on following in his footsteps. Being pessimistic was necessary; Scully was their survival instinct. As Frances climbed into the hot shower, she let her thoughts run free. Somehow, with the jet lag, she should have been up at 4 in the morning. But the dream had been so intense, so important that her body didn't deign to wake up. Weird. There was no time to dwell on it, as they were supposed to meet with the Sheriff this morning. So far, she didn't know how she would be able to share the little knowledge she had about the killings in Forks without implicating the Cullen family. Silence would be the safest option of all, she mused. There, she was the villain in the investigation now, hiding the truth...

This is how, after a quick and unhealthy breakfast, Frances reclaimed her spot in the backseat as Mulder and Scully's banter filled the little time to the Sheriff's office. Said sheriff, Charlie he insisted she called him, look relieved to see her safe and sound, even if a little troubled. The man blamed her mood on the misadventure of precedent day, and left it at that. The two agents, the intern and the Sheriff closed his office door, and a heated discussion started regarding the latest murder. The troublesome findings of Scully, having done the autopsy, caused the man to frown deeply. He had nothing to answer the draining and puncture wounds on the body.