Abandoned
Chapter 3: Running
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all headers in Ch. 1
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Scully stood in a shaft of light so dazzling she couldn’t see beyond it.
“You can trust all of us,” a man’s melodious voice floated out of the darkness. Smoke drifted into the circle of light, wreathing his features. He looked as he had the first time she’d laid eyes on him, in Blevins’ office.
“Yes, all of us,” Krycek stepped out of the shadows. He held his hand out to her. It was alive, and human, no longer a plastic replacement.
There were other faces, circling her, watching her, like the replicants had as she gave birth to William. Watching her, waiting for her next move, her next word.
Diana Fowley stepped up. “We’ll take care of William, and you. Fox would want it that way.”
“What have you done with him?” Scully asked in terror. “Where is he?”
“Don’t worry, Miss Scully,” said the English gentleman. “It will all become clear to you.” He held out his hand, much as Krycek had. “Just come with us.”
She heard a cry. William. She turned to seek him out, and to turn away from all these people. “William?” she called. “William, Mommy’s here.” She couldn’t see him; all was dark around her.
Out of that darkness she heard footsteps.
The Bounty Hunter approached her, carrying a squalling William in his arms. “It’s time to go now,” he said.
Scully woke up trembling, the darkness and silence thick around her. She got up on shaky legs and went to William’s crib. He was there, sleeping peacefully.
“Mulder,” she whispered to herself. “Where are you?”
x-x-x-x
Six weeks, Scully mused. The longest six weeks she could remember.
Staying in one place for so long was making her nervous and restless. She spent a lot of time in public, as the Gunmen suggested. So far, she’d noticed nothing out of the ordinary, but she never relaxed her guard.
The old Dana Scully was entirely gone now. The woman who once took such care with her appearance that even her nightclothes were tailored now hardly wore anything other than jeans and tee shirts. Her hair was already growing out from its chopped off cut; soon it would reach her collar again.
She sat in the sun outside her favorite coffee shop, writing in her journal. She’d decided to start keeping one again, mostly to record William’s progress, a record to show Mulder one day. She wrote in her own version of shorthand, a method she’d taught herself in medical school. It would be difficult for an outsider to decipher, should she get careless, or if someone should look over her shoulder.
She also bought a Polaroid camera. She took pictures of William and tucked them into the pages of her journal, another piece of their life to share with Mulder when they were together again.
She’d been afraid to bring even one picture from home, and she’d burned all the pictures of William and Mulder she’d had, except for a couple she put in the safety-deposit box. Of course, her watchers probably had all the pictures they needed, but she wouldn’t give them any extra ammunition. She now understood why Mrs. Mulder had burned everything before she committed suicide.
She’d gone to the public library a couple of times and did a little checking of certain websites and newsgroups that Mulder used to frequent, to see if she recognized any of the usernames. She didn’t try to access her email account. Though she’d been tempted, she hadn’t used the phone number. There was no reason to, except that she was lonely and wanted to hear a familiar voice. So far, the only communication had been the initial package with her new ID and the regular “annuity checks” which she duly deposited in the bank. They were more than enough to live comfortably on. She could afford a nicer place than she got, but she didn’t see any reason to waste money. She found a small furnished apartment, got a crib for William, and a few kitchen supplies. She’d thought optimistically that she’d only be there a few weeks. She was no longer sure.
It seemed to her that they would really have no way of knowing if the danger existed until something happened. Nothing happening proved nothing, except perhaps that their enemies had a lot of patience.
“I don’t want to be the subject of an unending X-File,” Scully had protested to Mulder once. She still didn’t, but here she was, living smack dab in the middle of one.
It was so hard, never knowing if a friendly stranger might actually be an enemy. Scully tried to behave in a normal manner, but she worried that her fears stuck out all over. Even if the chip was truly disabled, They’d find their way to her simply from her fear.
Out of old habit, she looked carefully at everyone. She was always on the lookout for someone who looked familiar, who made overtures that were just a bit too friendly.
Their enemies were faceless now. Maybe the most dangerous ones had always hidden in the shadows. They seemed to know how to use those closest to Mulder and her, as well. Skinner had done his best, but had been compromised, again and again. Doggett was willing, but had been naive enough to trust the wrong people, time after time, realizing only when it was almost too late that he’d believed when he should have doubted, and doubted when he should have believed. Even her own mother had been used against her, charmed by a complete stranger into endangering her daughter.
Even Scully had been fooled once or twice. Even Mulder had been fooled <“What happened to `trust no one, Mulder?” “I changed it to `trust everyone.’ Didn’t I tell you?”>. They were right to trust no one but themselves, and each other.
The only enemies with faces were the ones she saw in her dreams. <They’re dead,> she told herself when she woke up drenched in sweat, heart nearly leaping from her chest. <They can’t get to you.>
But they *were* getting to her, through her dreams.
She needed Mulder. She didn’t know how much longer she could live like this.
x-x-x-x
She’d felt violated by the super soldier’s words. Yes, it was a cliche, but that’s what best described the feeling she had as he recited what he knew about her. She wouldn’t allow herself to be ruled by her anger and fear, however. She’d had to go on living her life, doing what needed to be done, even with the knowledge that someone probably still watched her. She could forget about it, from time to time, but the awareness was always in the back of her mind.
While they were still in DC, she’d discussed disabling the devices in her home with the Gunmen, but she knew they’d likely be replaced immediately. Instead, she tried to make note of where they were, where the possible blind spots might be. And she went on with her life.
Even having left that world behind, she didn’t feel in control. She waited at the whim of the Gunmen, or Mulder, to know what her next move should be. Her life was still not her own. The thought of the Gunmen tracking her moves was far from reassuring. Not because she didn’t trust them, but it annoyed her to think they were watching her, that maybe even Mulder was watching her, but she wasn’t allowed any contact in return. She told herself it was safer for them all, and necessary, but she didn’t like it.
The fear never really went away. Or the loneliness. William was a great comfort, and she was so glad to have him with her, but she missed adult conversation. More specifically, she missed Mulder’s conversation. Sure, sometimes she’d rolled her eyes at his quips, and they certainly didn’t see eye to eye on a lot of things, but nobody gave better conversation than Mulder.
Now, she never did more but exchange the necessary words with people she met. She smiled if someone smiled at her, but barely spoke. She couldn’t overcome her fears.
She found herself talking to William quite a lot. She told him what they’d do with their day, and all during the day, she pointed things out, at night when she put him to bed she told him about his daddy.
Usually William just absorbed it all but once in a while she got a look or a smile from him that seemed to say that he understood everything. She didn’t know whether to be glad, or more afraid.
There had been no repeat of the moving mobile incident and Scully frankly didn’t want to face what it might mean. William was her miracle. Whatever else he might be was not something she could think about right now. She had to protect him, and she would do anything to keep him safe.
On a more practical level, that meant that Scully had William with her twenty-four hours a day. She rarely left his side for anything longer than a quick shower. She was grateful that he was such a good baby, rarely fussy, but the constant vigilance was one more thing that wore her down. Coupled with the sleep too frequently broken by nightmares, she was afraid she’d lose her edge, become less alert, and that would spell danger for both of them.
It was taking its toll.
x-x-x-x
Scully’s eyes flew open. She could see nothing in the darkness but a flicker of movement just out of her line of sight. “Who’s there?” she said, feeling under her pillow for her gun. It wasn’t there.
“Agent Scully.” The voice was familiar, but it wasn’t a good memory.
She could make out the outline of a person.
“Who’s there?” she said more sharply, trying to think of a weapon she could get to.
The shadow resolved itself into Billy Miles. “Agent Scully,” he said again, in the voice that was and wasn’t his.
“What do you want, Billy?” Scully tried for calmness. If he meant her or William harm, there was nothing she could do but try to escape.
“You’ve got to go,” he said. “You can’t stay here any more.” He took a step closer.
Scully rolled over and off the far side of the bed, still facing Billy. She stood between him and William’s crib.
Suddenly Billy was much closer. “Get back!” she warned him, and put her arms up in a futile attempt to ward him off. Though she felt no blow, she felt herself falling backward…
…and sat up abruptly, back in bed, the aftereffects of the nightmare constricting her throat. She took a couple of big gulps of air, and turned instinctively toward William’s crib.
He was standing up, gripping the side rails, staring at her.
x-x-x-x
Scully didn’t even stop to think. She stuffed a few things into a backpack, grabbed her purse and William, wrapped him in his coat and blanket. She slowly went to the door to her apartment, opening it very quietly and looking around.
Everything was still; she had a clear view to her car in the parking lot. She made her way down to it, quickly and quietly. As soon as she got William settled, she put the car in gear and drove away slowly, not wanting to excite any attention.
It was two o’clock in the morning and she had no idea where she was heading. All she could hear in her head was, it’s not safe, it’s not safe, it’s not safe…
Whether Billy’s appearance was actually a dream, or a true warning, she couldn’t take the chance. This was the first time William had seemed disturbed by her restlessness, and she wasn’t sure what to make of that, either. She obeyed the voice inside her that said to go.
Every time she glanced in the rear view mirror, she could see William, not sleeping, just sitting quietly, looking at Scully’s reflection, sucking on his pacifier.
“It’s okay, Will,” she said in a cheerful tone. “We’re just going on a little side trip.” Sure, that was believable.
She stopped shortly after dawn in a small town somewhere. She wasn’t even sure she was still in Iowa. The cafe was a bright, crowded place, filled with farmers. No one really seemed to pay attention to her as she came in with William, still wrapped in his blanket, and slid into a booth as far away from the door as she could.
A waitress came by and poured her coffee, and Scully ordered dry toast for herself, and a banana for William.
“No eggs?” The waitress asked. “No bacon? You could use a little feeding up.”
Even this careless kindness was enough to make Scully feel weepy. “Just the toast for now,” she managed to get out. “Thank you.”
“Sure thing, hon,” the waitress said with a smile, and she turned away.
She must look pretty bad, to elicit concern from a stranger. She tried to tuck her hair behind her ears, thought briefly of going into the restroom to wash up, but she didn’t think her legs would carry her.
She’d driven cautiously and not particularly fast, keeping an eye in her rear view mirror almost as much as she watched the road ahead. She had been well away from Des Moines before the morning traffic started. She’d changed directions frequently, heading more or less east so that she wouldn’t just be driving in a circle. It didn’t look like anyone had followed her.
Unless somehow they knew where she was heading anyway. How could they, when she wasn’t sure herself? She just started driving, thinking only that she needed to get away.
If only she could just stay here for a little while. Just long enough to rest, to get a decent night’s sleep. She leaned her head back against the upholstery of the booth and shut her eyes briefly.
“You okay, honey?”
Scully’s eyes flew open to see the waitress was back with her toast. “Just tired,” she said with a wan smile. “I haven’t been sleeping well.”
The waitress nodded sagely. “You just rest and have your breakfast. You’re safe here.”
Her choice of words made Scully tense up. She looked sharply back at the waitress, who stood there calmly. “What do you mean?” she asked with an edge to her voice.
“Just what I said. Anyone can see that you’re running from something, and this is a good place to stay for a while, if you want to. My name’s Brenda, by the way,” she said, indicating her name badge.
“I’m — Terry,” Scully said. She’d hardly said that name out loud and it sounded strange even to her ears.
“That’s okay, you don’t have to tell me any more,” Brenda said. “I bet you don’t have any place to go, do you?”
Scully considered for a moment, and then shook her head.
“Well, take your time over your breakfast. This place’ll clear out in an hour or so, and I’ll be done with my shift. If you like, I can show you someplace where you can stay a while.”
Scully glanced over at William, whose face was messy with mashed banana. He looked back with his impassive baby face, and sucked on his fingers. She wasn’t sure what she was looking for, but she took comfort in his calmness.
x-x-x-x
Scully followed Brenda’s car to a two-story house on the outskirts of town. Toys were scattered around the big front yard enclosed by a cyclone fence.
A small woman with short gray hair, dressed in jeans and a long sleeved tee shirt came to the door as Scully got out of the car. “Hi, Brenda,” the woman called as she came down the steps.
“Hi, hon,” Brenda said. “This is Terry, and her little boy. Just got into town.”
“Hi Terry,” she said, holding out her hand. “I’m Georgine. I run this place, such as it is.”
“What is it?” Scully asked. Georgine’s grasp was gentle, but warm and strong. Her expression was compassionate, her eyes kind. Scully hadn’t felt so much comfort from someone for a long time.
“Well, some call it the shelter,” Georgine said. “But I just call it home.”
x-x-x-x
“Scully,” she heard a voice whisper in her ear. “Scully, are you awake?”
She felt warm and comfortable, safe.
“Just barely,” she said. “Time’s it?”
“I’ve got to go soon,” Mulder said. “But I need to tell you something first…”
Scully woke up slowly, with tears on her cheeks, surprised to see that it was light outside.
Georgine had welcomed Scully and William into her home, shown her around, and showed her the room she’d share with William. She’d set up the crib for William, and he went down right away. Georgine had encouraged Scully to take a nap as well. “We’ll wake you up for dinner,” she said.
Scully couldn’t deny that she was tired. She looked over at William, already asleep. She’d sat down on her bed for just a moment, and the next thing she knew, she was waking up to sunshine.
It couldn’t be possible that she’d slept the night through, but it looked like it. Someone had taken her shoes off and put a blanket over her. She stretched a little. It was the longest she’d slept in quite a while. She wondered what time it was; she’d left Des Moines in such a hurry, she’d left her watch behind.
And that wasn’t all. Her journal, the pictures she’d taken of William, and most of her meager possessions. She didn’t know if she’d ever have the courage to go back.
The letter. The letter with the phone number was tucked inside her journal. She was sure of it.
Those thoughts brought her fully awake. Had she left anything behind that could identify her? If she’d left the letter, anyone might be able to trace her through her name.
She began to rummage through her backpack, glancing over to the crib to see if William was still asleep. He wasn’t there.
Panic rose in Scully’s throat. She looked around wildly, not sure what she was looking for. Evidence of another presence? Billy Miles? There was no one else in the room. She slipped on her shoes and nearly ran down the stairs.
She found a number of people in the dining room, finishing breakfast. William was there, sitting in a high chair, getting all the attention from a couple of other women and two little girls.
“Oh hi,” one of the women said. “You must be Terry. What’s your little boy’s name?”
Instead of answering, Scully said, “Did you bring him down here?”
“No, Terry, I did,” Georgine explained. She was coming through the kitchen door. “Just a few minutes ago. I figured you’d be out for a while, so I thought I’d bring him down for breakfast.”
<Deep breath, Dana. Nothing’s wrong. Deep breath.>
“Are you okay, Terry?” Georgine asked. “I’m sorry I didn’t wake either of you for dinner last night, but you were both sound asleep and I figured rest was better than food.”
Scully nodded shortly, still feeling disoriented. William seemed fine, happy even, being the center of attention. Maybe he was tired of having just Mom around.
“What do you call him?” one of the little girls asked.
“Buddy,” Scully said, taking the nickname Mulder called him exactly once before he left. “I call him Buddy.”
x-x-x-x
The first couple of days at Georgine’s, all Scully did was sleep. Georgine woke her for meals and to tend to William’s needs, but everything else was a blur. When she was awake, she felt like she was sleepwalking. When she was asleep, it was so deep that she didn’t even dream.
On the third morning, Scully woke up feeling alert for the first time in quite a while. She got up and stretched, arms above her head. William was awake, too, and he smiled as she leaned over and picked him up.
“Hi, Buddy,” she said softly, nuzzling against his soft cheek. “Doing okay? I’m hungry, what about you?”
“M-mm-mmuh,” William agreed.
The smell of coffee and eggs drifted up to them as they started downstairs. Scully could hear the muted sounds of conversation. She saw the sun streaming in from the windows on either side of the front door.
It wasn’t home, at least not hers, but she felt safer than she had in her own home.
x-x-x-x
Everyone staying at Georgine’s had chores to do. Scully started out with kitchen duty. She helped Georgine prepare the meals and cleaned up afterward. Later Scully saw that helping Georgine was always a newcomer’s first job, for obvious reasons.
Women came and went. Some stayed overnight, some stayed a few days or a week. After a while, Scully felt like she’d become the “senior resident,” helping Georgine when someone new arrived.
One night a woman arrived with a bad gash on her forehead, still bleeding slightly. Without thinking twice, Scully took the first aid kit from Georgine’s hands and talked to the woman calmly as she tended to the cut. After that, she was in charge of first aid for everyone.
It made her feel good to put some of her skills to use. She enjoyed helping out in any way. The regular routine of chores was soothing and kept her busy.
William seemed to be thriving. He’d always been a quiet baby, but he smiled and laughed more now. Scully still watched him closely for signs of anything unusual, but he seemed entirely normal. His growth and development continued at a normal pace. He had a growing vocabulary of sounds and almost-words. He was beginning to crawl. The first time he did so, Scully watched with tears in her eyes as she realized afresh that Mulder had missed another milestone in their son’s life. She scooped him up and nuzzled his neck, which always made him squeal. “Your daddy would be so proud,” she told him. William looked pretty proud of himself.
Georgine was the calm center of the house. The children seemed naturally drawn to her, and their mothers followed their children’s lead. Scully found herself drawn to the quiet strength of the older woman, but though she did everything she was asked to do, she kept silent when the other residents of the house talked.
It wasn’t formal counseling, but each afternoon during the children’s nap time, the women staying at Georgine’s gathered in the living room, or on the back porch if it was warm enough, and talked.
Often the conversation centered around what had brought them to Georgine’s. Scully didn’t join in, and if she chose not to answer a direct question no one challenged her on it. There was always someone else willing to share her experiences.
Scully couldn’t tell the truth about herself, and she had no intention of making up a story similar to what the other women had endured. It seemed disrespectful of them. Each of them had suffered at the hands of another, by someone close to her.
She kept quiet, and listened with sympathy, and offered the support of a clasped hand or a hug. The stories these women related about the terrors they’d escaped amazed and horrified her.
No one she loved had ever shoved her head into the toilet, or burned her repeatedly with a cigarette, burned up all her clothes, or thrown her out into the back yard in the snow. No one had called her names, told her over and over again how stupid she was, or how worthless she was.
It wasn’t that she’d never heard stories like this before; after all, she’d been in law enforcement for a long time. But they seemed to have a more personal resonance, somehow. She didn’t have the professional separation she’d always been able to use in the past.
Scully knew that she had survived terrors that these women couldn’t even imagine, but she had one thing that they didn’t have: she’d never been harmed, physically or mentally, by the person she loved.
The abuse had come from other sources, sources she could hate unequivocally. But as real and as horrible as it was, she couldn’t bring it up in front of these women.
She felt almost guilty that these women were so kind to her, so welcoming. So unquestioning of her presence among them.
x-x-x-x
Most nights after she’d put William down for the night, Scully sat on the back porch alone. She relished a little time to herself. She wasn’t used to communal living, and sometimes craved a little quiet and privacy.
At the end of the day, she just needed to be alone with her thoughts. During the day, she kept busy enough with the chores, but always in the back of her mind was the nagging worry that she could be traced from Des Moines somehow. That she might be endangering not only herself, but these kind people who took her in without asking questions. She rubbed at the patch at the back of her neck. Still there, still presumably doing the job it was supposed to be doing. She wondered idly what adhesive they’d used. Super glue?
She worried about what she had left behind in Des Moines. She knew that if the Gunmen were keeping an eye on her, they’d be panicked about her sudden disappearance. This was the emergency the number they’d given her was intended for, she felt certain. But she wasn’t sure she should risk going back to Des Moines for it. But she couldn’t stay here forever, though part of her would have liked to. But the biggest part of her wanted to find Mulder.
The screen door opened and shut behind her and she heard Georgine say, “Mind if I join you?”
Scully shook her head. Georgine sat down and handed Scully a mug of tea. “It’s getting chilly out here.”
“Mmm.” Scully said noncommittally, feeling a bit tense. Georgine hadn’t pressed her for any information, but maybe she’d decided it was time to. Scully held her mug in both hands, letting its warmth soak into her, the fragrance of the tea soothe her.
Georgine said nothing. Scully sneaked looks at her. She sat looking out over the yard, a serene expression on her face.
Scully finally broke the silence. “I don’t think I’ve thanked you,” she said softly. “For taking me and my son in.”
Georgine turned and smiled at her. “You’re welcome,” she said simply. “It’s what I do.”
“Why do you do it?” Scully asked.
Georgine sipped at her tea before replying. “The short answer is that I saw a need.”
“But there’s more to it than that?” Scully asked.
“I haven’t always been here,” Georgine went on. “I started out as a social worker in New York City. I wanted to make a difference. But eventually, I began to burn out. Not from the people, but from the bureaucracy. So I thought I’d work on a smaller scale.”
“How do you avoid the bureaucracy?” This was certainly close to home; battling bureaucracy took up a lot of her time too.
“By not going to them for any help,” Georgine said. “The women who come here weren’t helped by being put into the system; the system failed them long ago. What I have is a stop on a sort of underground railroad, if you will. The people who need help find us. Or we find them.”
“Brenda,” Scully said.
Georgine nodded. “She stayed here, like you, ten years or so ago. She’s part of it, and there are others like her, in other towns.”
“Are there others like you in other towns?”
Georgine smiled. “I wouldn’t doubt it. There’s nothing official or formal about it. We don’t have an organization, we don’t hold meetings, we don’t even know each other. But word gets around.”
For years, Scully had seen evidence of the undercurrent of evil that seemed to thrive and grow and appear everywhere. She hadn’t realized that there was also a current of goodness, just as hidden, just as strong. Maybe stronger. She hoped stronger, for all their sakes.
Scully felt reassured by this thought. It gave her courage. “Georgine,” she started to say, “I – I’m not like the other women here. I’m not running from an abusive relationship –”
“But you’re running away from something. And it’s clear that you’ve suffered abuse — whatever the cause. So, you were led here.” She held Scully’s gaze with her own. “Maybe you were brought here for yourself, and maybe for another reason. But you’ll know when it’s time for you to continue.”
x-x-x-x
That night she awoke from her most frequently recurring dream.
<-Scully, are you awake? -Mmmm, just barely. Time’s it? -It’s almost time to go, but I have to tell you something first…>
She always woke up at that point. She knew what he was going to say, but she never got to hear it. She always woke up too soon.
On this night, she got up and pulled her sweatshirt on. She checked on William, sleeping soundly in his crib. Reassured, Scully crept out the door and tiptoed quietly downstairs.
She opened the back door and sat on the porch steps. <Imagine a place where I can walk outside in the middle of the night and feel safe. Imagine feeling safe.>
A month ago, she thought she’d never feel safe again.
She looked up at the stars. So many, so bright. She remembered the nights of looking up there, wondering if Mulder was up there somewhere too, concentrating on sending him thoughts. He’d told her he thought he felt her presence sometimes. She knew she’d felt his.
She hoped now that wherever he was, he was looking up at the stars, and thinking of her. Believing that she was seeing the same thing, and thinking of him. She closed her eyes and concentrated.
“Is this seat taken?” came a soft voice from behind her.
Scully jumped and instinctively reached behind her for her weapon, which wasn’t there.
Georgine sat at the other end of the step and leaned against the railing. “Can’t sleep? Nightmares?”
Scully shook her head. “More memories than nightmares.”
“Do you want to talk about them?”
Scully shook her head. “Not really. I would, but it really isn’t safe.”
“Not safe for whom?” Georgine asked softly.
“For me, or for the people I’m thinking about,” Scully replied. “Or for you. Georgine, I appreciate everything you’ve done for me, and I’m sorry I haven’t been able to share anything with you, but I’m afraid by doing so, I will endanger the people I care about. And that includes you.”
“I understand,” Georgine said. “I don’t know why you’ve had to go into hiding, but I won’t pry, either.”
Scully slumped against her side of the railing. “You don’t know how much I’d like to tell someone, but I can’t.”
They were both silent for a while. Then Georgine said, “It’s time, isn’t it?”
Scully nodded, fighting back tears. “I have to go. All I’m doing is delaying the inevitable.”
“I know you must be involved in something important,” Georgine said. “You were in some sort of law enforcement, weren’t you?”
Scully laughed disbelievingly. “Is it that obvious?”
“Remember, I haven’t always been in the sticks,” Georgine said. “I’ve had some experience with New York’s Finest. I know what to look for.”
Scully imagined Georgine standing up to someone like John Doggett. She had no doubt that she could.
“You need to get back in the fight, whatever it is,” Georgine said.
Scully nodded. “I do.”
“Not to mention, getting back to that baby’s father.”
Scully didn’t reply; she couldn’t reply.
“I’ve been around, remember?” Georgine said. “Enough to know he’s not the cause of your problems. But maybe he’s part of the solution.”
“I think so,” Scully muttered. “He might disagree.”
“When are you going?” Georgine asked.
“First thing in the morning,” Scully said. Now that she’d made up her mind, there was no sense in delaying any longer.
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End of Part Three. Continued in Part Four.