Title:        Kinship
Author:       dtg
Email:        dgoggans@earthlink.net
Website:      http://home.earthlink.net/~dgoggans/
Rating:       PG
Category:     The Truth missing scene
Archive:      Sure, just let me know first.
Summary:      "I suddenly understand what drew me
               to these people."
Disclaimer:   Anyone you recognize is the property
              of Chris Carter, 1013 and Fox. No
              copyright infringement intended. 
Author's Notes: This scene takes place a couple of
               hours prior to the final scene. 

~~~~~~~~~
Kinship by dtg
  


She's staring out the front windows, hands on her 
hips, water still streaming from her yellow slicker 
onto the welcome mat beneath her squishy-wet sneakers.

"Please don't tell me again how much we need this 
rain."  

Since I was about to do exactly that, it's a good 
thing she warned me off. Carrie has been in a black 
mood all afternoon, even before this gully washer hit 
about an hour ago. The weather isn't helping, but I'd 
say that being married to a man who's managed to lose 
money running a motel in the heart of UFO tourist 
heaven might have something to do with it.

"Honey, I told you not to worry about the damn sign. 
Anybody still out in this is not gonna be put off by 
a 'no vacancy' sign." 

Carrie turns back to give me a stern look. "Get the 
switch fixed tomorrow, okay?" She shrugs out of the 
drenched raincoat and hangs it next the to the door. 
"I'll make some tea." 

She pats my shoulder as she passes the desk and 
disappears through the door to our apartment. I don't 
deserve her, and I'm scared to death that one day 
she's going to figure that out.

A gust of wind ushers in another torrent of 
horizontal rain as the door swings open.

"Evening." My visitor acknowledges my greeting with a 
nod, then resumes shaking the rain from his clothes 
and hair. He wipes his face with both hands, then 
approaches my desk.

"I need a room."

He's about as cheerful as I'd expect of someone out 
on a night like this, and he's obviously in no mood 
for small talk. I pull out a registration card and 
hand it to him.

"Fill this out. Room's $49 plus tax and any phone 
calls you make."

While he writes, I dig through the key drawer. I'll 
put him in 12. It's the only room that's been 
occupied in the past two days, so it was cleaned just 
this morning. 

He lays down the pen and pushes the card across the 
desk to me. I notice several healing cuts on his hand 
and look up, studying his face. He's got similar 
injuries there, too. Looks like he's been through the 
mill. He sees me looking at him, and his eyes harden. 
I feel my face heat up.

"I'm sorry. Didn't mean to stare. You been in an 
accident?"

For some reason, that makes the man chuckle, but 
there's no humor in it. "Something like that, yeah."

He hands me three twenties and picks up the key. He's 
halfway to the door when he turns back. "Is there 
anywhere around here we can get something to eat?"

I shake my head. "Diner down the road closed at 11. 
There's a place in town, about fifteen minutes from 
here in good weather. Take you a lot longer in this."

He nods and turns back toward the door. I glance down 
at the card to see who "we" is. He's got his wife 
with him.

"Mr. Hale?"

It takes him a beat too long to react to his name. A 
man checking in under a false name is certainly 
nothing new, but my instincts are telling me that 
this is something else entirely.

"Yes?" His eyes confirm it. Not guilty or sly. 
Haunted. Ancient, yet somehow ageless.

"I was just wondering if I could offer you and the 
missus some of my wife's beef stew. She always cooks 
enough for an army, and I know it's still hot." 
Carrie will be glad for the company. Either that, or 
she'll kick my ass after they leave.

I can see his hesitation. He looks out toward the SUV 
parked in front of the door, then back at me. He 
nods.

"Thanks. That would be great. Let me get my wife."

There's just enough of a pause before the word 'wife' 
that I'm now wondering if I've let my 'instincts' run 
off with my common sense. I watch him go out into the 
storm and stand next to the SUV. A moment later, he 
comes back with a woman. She meets my eyes, lifts her 
chin and gives me a small smile.

"I'll just let my wife know we're coming." As  I 
close the door behind me, I hear the woman's voice 
asking if the man is sure it's all right. I know I'm 
about to get the same question from Carrie, and I 
find the hesitance oddly reassuring.

Twenty minutes later, we're sitting at the kitchen 
table. The man, who I've been calling George despite 
the fact that the name is clearly not his, has wolfed 
down two bowls of stew. His companion has barely 
touched her food, sipping Carrie's mint tea instead.

"You folks picked a hell of a night for a drive in 
the country." 

The man and woman exchange an unreadable look. The 
woman hasn't said more than a dozen words since we 
sat down, so I'm surprised when she looks back at me, 
lips parted to answer. An instant later, her eyes 
fill with a pain I hope never to see again as long as 
I live. It takes me a few bewildered moments to 
realize what triggered it, and my heart twists with 
recognition.

The baby is crying.

Carrie smiles and gets up from the table. "Excuse 
me." She hasn't noticed the reaction our guest is 
having, which is a blessing. We lost our first child 
two years ago to viral pneumonia, and I suddenly 
understand what drew me to these people. 

I reach my hand across the table, wanting to do 
something-- anything to ease the agony that is 
radiating from them both. 

"Are you all right?" It's a stupid question, but one 
that seems to come automatically. I heard it directed 
at Carrie and me more times than I can count. The 
answer is, of course, 'no'. The only thing that will 
help is to return the precious life that's been 
ripped from them. That, no one can do.

The man gets up, sagging under the weight of memories 
too painful to carry, too precious to put down. 
"Thank you, but we're fine." He takes the woman 
tenderly by the shoulders and she stands. "Thank you 
for dinner."

They turn and walk slowly to the door, his arm around 
her shoulder, hers encircling his waist. 

The baby's cries fade into contented silence. I get 
up and go to the bedroom, anxious to trade this 
memory of loss for the image of my infant daughter 
nuzzling at her mother's breast.

Carrie looks up and sees me standing in the doorway.

"What happened to our company?" She is wearing the 
smile I was so afraid had been buried with our son.

"They had to go."

She nods, and returns her loving gaze to the baby in 
her arms. 

I whisper a prayer of thanks for the peace we've 
finally reached, and for two strangers whose journey 
has just begun. 

~~~~

End