My first thought is why? Why is she saying all this? I know it can't
be true. SHE has taught me it can't be true. Why is she now insisting
that it is,that it's happened to her?
I've heard her words a thousand times, from a thousand other victims -
victims I now believe to be delusional. There's no abduction, no
aliens. My sister wasn't abducted by little green - GRAY -men, but by
an evil organisation. It's all a hoax, a story designed to guide the
passionate and egocentric willing martyrs, like myself, away from the
truth. I went willing enough, desperate to find a hopeless battle that
could make me a hero while destroying me, never realising that I was
being played for a fool. Worse, a blind, deaf fool.
She reaches out in her waking dream, reaching for support, for love, for
me. I take her hand, and hold it tight. I can do no less for her, it
is instinctive in me now, to reach for her, be with her, catch her if
she should fall. My mind revolts at the lies I know she is telling,
however unconsciously, yet my soul can do nothing but reach to her.
It's almost a battle, between my rational mind and my irrational
subconscious.
Strange, but that's what it's been like for years, for the two of us.
Me, with my chivalrous crusade against darkness and evil in all its
forms, her with her down-to-earth, science-can-explain-everything
attitude. I'd assumed we'd fight. Instead we complemented each other.
Her science kept me tethered to some sort of reality, while my flights
of fancy enabled her to see beyond her microscope and scalpel.
Together, we saved so many lives, solved so much,changed each other so
much.
I know I've become more like her. I know I've finally admitted I've
been chasing ghosts and castles in the sky. I've finally begun to think
like her, so why has SHE changed now? Her rationalism, her belief only
in what she can see, has been the bedrock of my life for five years.
Now that I've come to depend on it, why is she taking it away? Why, now
that I think like she does, has she started to believe?
Her story is familiar. I could have quoted it, word for word, from any
supermarket tabloid. I also know that's its not true. I know they've
programmed her with this knowledge, fed her a story to get me begging to
believe again. They've given her the images, the words to get me
excited, desperate. How could she? How could SHE believe this? She,
the woman who couldn't be tricked by Pusher, who's seen through a
million tricks and fairy-tales, believing the same lies, the same crap
of she's ridiculed for years? Now, when I need her, is she not the old
Scully? Why am I no longer the one who believes? Why am I the one with
the doubts? Why has she taken my certainty, my beliefs, and made them
her own?
She wakes up, and I take my hand away, hurt by what I feel is her
betrayal. She turns to me. I know that look in her eyes. I know she's
seen the same in mine. I've turned to her, questioning, looking for
support. She has never turned away, even when she didn't believe. She
answered my questions, given support and given me science when I
believed only in childish tales fed to the gullible.
She has never turned away, but she's betrayed me now. She is not the
Scully I know. She has become me, and I do not wish to see that. So I
turn away, and ignore the hurt in her eyes, and her unspoken question,
'Why?'.
be true. SHE has taught me it can't be true. Why is she now insisting
that it is,that it's happened to her?
I've heard her words a thousand times, from a thousand other victims -
victims I now believe to be delusional. There's no abduction, no
aliens. My sister wasn't abducted by little green - GRAY -men, but by
an evil organisation. It's all a hoax, a story designed to guide the
passionate and egocentric willing martyrs, like myself, away from the
truth. I went willing enough, desperate to find a hopeless battle that
could make me a hero while destroying me, never realising that I was
being played for a fool. Worse, a blind, deaf fool.
She reaches out in her waking dream, reaching for support, for love, for
me. I take her hand, and hold it tight. I can do no less for her, it
is instinctive in me now, to reach for her, be with her, catch her if
she should fall. My mind revolts at the lies I know she is telling,
however unconsciously, yet my soul can do nothing but reach to her.
It's almost a battle, between my rational mind and my irrational
subconscious.
Strange, but that's what it's been like for years, for the two of us.
Me, with my chivalrous crusade against darkness and evil in all its
forms, her with her down-to-earth, science-can-explain-everything
attitude. I'd assumed we'd fight. Instead we complemented each other.
Her science kept me tethered to some sort of reality, while my flights
of fancy enabled her to see beyond her microscope and scalpel.
Together, we saved so many lives, solved so much,changed each other so
much.
I know I've become more like her. I know I've finally admitted I've
been chasing ghosts and castles in the sky. I've finally begun to think
like her, so why has SHE changed now? Her rationalism, her belief only
in what she can see, has been the bedrock of my life for five years.
Now that I've come to depend on it, why is she taking it away? Why, now
that I think like she does, has she started to believe?
Her story is familiar. I could have quoted it, word for word, from any
supermarket tabloid. I also know that's its not true. I know they've
programmed her with this knowledge, fed her a story to get me begging to
believe again. They've given her the images, the words to get me
excited, desperate. How could she? How could SHE believe this? She,
the woman who couldn't be tricked by Pusher, who's seen through a
million tricks and fairy-tales, believing the same lies, the same crap
of she's ridiculed for years? Now, when I need her, is she not the old
Scully? Why am I no longer the one who believes? Why am I the one with
the doubts? Why has she taken my certainty, my beliefs, and made them
her own?
She wakes up, and I take my hand away, hurt by what I feel is her
betrayal. She turns to me. I know that look in her eyes. I know she's
seen the same in mine. I've turned to her, questioning, looking for
support. She has never turned away, even when she didn't believe. She
answered my questions, given support and given me science when I
believed only in childish tales fed to the gullible.
She has never turned away, but she's betrayed me now. She is not the
Scully I know. She has become me, and I do not wish to see that. So I
turn away, and ignore the hurt in her eyes, and her unspoken question,
'Why?'.