"How about I call you Jen," he'd said. Just like that.

It never ceased to amaze her how humans made assumptions
upon assumptions every day of their lives, presuming the world
would conform to their wants and needs, would adjust itself
accordingly. Changing names to suit their own purposes.
Soviet Union, Kampuchea, Elton John, Sting...Jen.

Her name, her old name, was Mireille, but she didn't see the
point in letting the human know that. If he wanted to call her
Jen and shape the world around him to be just a little closer
to his chosen perception of it, then so be it. Jen wasn't any
more or less valid a name than the ones her parents had
elected for her centuries ago. It was closer, even, to the being
she was now.

Nonetheless, as she watched his brain jump through hoops
in search of his next wish, she couldn't help but hear the old
name in her head, a thudding reminder of a life she once knew:
Mireille, Mireille, Mireille...in the back of her brain she heard
her mother screaming the name across the rolling country-
side, beckoning her home for the evening meal.

"I have my wish. Are you ready?" he asked.

She nodded, steeling herself against whatever stupidity he'd
devised. "I'm breathless with anticipation."

He smiled a smile that was genuine but held a tinge of
smugness. "I wish...for you to be set free, to no longer
be a djinnaiah, to live as a human woman. Is that specific
enough?"

Disbelief prickled up her spine and danced across the nape
of her neck. "If this is a joke, I'm not laughing," she said
stiffly.

"Oh, I'm very serious. I suppose this could be interpreted as
generosity on my part, but I assure you my decision has more
to do with a desire to keep you from wreaking havoc on anyone
else's lives than with any warm and fuzzy feelings for you as a
person. But the wish still stands. You're free. Free to be
whomever you want to be." He leaned back in his chair, still
just a little pleased with his own cleverness.

Scarcely daring to believe it, she closed her eyes and made
it so, the power coursing through her, the familiar burn scorching
her veins -- then nothing. An emptiness where the spark of her
power had been. She reached up and touched the skin under-
neath her eye, where her Mark had been embedded. The skin
was smooth.

"It worked," she said, not realizing until she said the words that
she'd thought it wouldn't.

"Well, you are - were - all-powerful, right?" he said, sounding
wistful. "Of course it worked."

"I - " She'd forgotten how to deal with humans in a way that
wasn't scornful or resentful, but she tried. "Th-Thank you," she
said. Despite the enormity of his gift, it was the best she could
manage.

He seemed to understand that. "You're welcome." He stood up,
grabbed his jacket from the coat rack, and looked back at her.
"You coming? It's time for me to lock up."

"Yeah," she said absently. None of it seemed real. Her
mind was spinning with mundane details - where would she
stay, how would she pay for it...all that old stuff in storage was
still unclaimed, and she could probably fetch a good price for
some of the antiques...her long out of use peasant girl bartering
skills would have to brushed up. Two bolts of cloth for a chicken,
five hundred bucks for a lamp, how much difference could there
be? "Can I ask you for something else?"

"What?" he asked warily.

"A buck to buy a cup of coffee?"

He grinned. "I think I can manage that."

"Thanks." She started for the door. He held it open for her as
she walked into the hallway beyond. She studied him while he
locked the door behind him, feeling she should be able to muster
up some sort of repayment. Free repayment. "Mind if I give you
some advice?"

He straightened, put his keys in his pants pocket. "Sure. I would
imagine that someone with your...experience must have a unique
perspective on the ways of the world."

"You're damn right," she said. "It's about...what did you call her?
Scully."

"What about her?" he asked suspiciously.

"I overheard, earlier, what she said to you about your wishes -
I'm not allowed to stray too far from my 'master,' what do you
want from me," she said to his affronted look. "It's not eaves-
dropping if you don't really care what's being said. Anyway...
look, what she said was just about the wisest thing I've heard
from a human being - a person - in all my years of servitude.
She's a smart woman. Probably too smart for you."

"And your point to all this is..." he asked, raising his eyebrows.

"My point is that maybe any wish you could have made - other
than your most recent one, which was obviously the best decision
you ever made" - he grinned - "would be superfluous, because
you have exactly what you want right in front of you. You just
don't have the balls to do anything about it. Live a little. I
certainly plan to."

"But she's my partner," he said, weakly protesting.

"That's just a name," she said quietly. "A term people use to
define things, to shape the world around them to their perception
of it. Shape your world a little differently, Mulder. Find a new
word."

And as she said it, she realized she needed a new name. Not
Mireille, or Jen...one that defined her not as the girl she once
was, nor as the being she had become. A new name for a new
life. She looked forward to discovering it.

He stared at her, then nodded. "Thanks."

She shrugged. "Hey, that and a buck will get you a cup of coffee.
Speaking of which..."

"Right," he said, pulling out his wallet and handing her a dollar.
"Use it in good health."

"I will," she said, and smiled, a real smile, for the first time in
centuries.

end.