Title: Nobility
Author: Dana E. Vassy
Distribution: anywhere and everywhere m'dears. I'd be honoured.
Just drop a line telling me it's eventual location at
scully_is_a_medical@doctor.com
Feedback: Please Please Please! I'm having a self-esteem
crisis!!!!
Category: Mulder POV/angst, eventual MSR?
Rating: PG i.e. clean fic m'lud
Spoilers: Requiem, Sein Und Zeit, Closure, Redux II, Folie A Deux,
most of which are slight and merely referential
Dedications: The essential moral of this tale was a piece of advice
given to me by a very wise woman. Only now do I see its
true importance. So AM, this one is for you - I finally realised
what direction I had to take!
Songs of Inspiration: "Now and Forever" by Richard Marx (you make
sense of madness, when my sanity hangs by a thread); "Never Say
Goodbye" and "I Want You" by Bon Jovi
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
Mulder's apartment, 02:17 am
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
I sit here on the all-too-familiar couch. But it is not the past
overwhelming me as I recline; it is the future. In my hands
there is a gift more precious than anyone could ever hope to
receive. A force that has shaped my life for more years than most
people would think plausible. So many times I came close, only for
this outcome to elude me. Now, it is right before my eyes, and I
will let nothing from this world or the next take it away.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
An alien craft, hours after abduction in Oregon
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
The brightness here is shocking. In all the poxy
dramatisations, such light is used to imply the sanitary and
superior nature of alien visitors. The experience I have dreamed
of so often was now giving me a headache. Typical. Reality never
quite compares to fantasy. Except for in the situation of bedding
...never mind.
This diary-like recording of events is one I know Dana uses
to make sense of madness. I only dare call her 'Dana' in my
head. So comfortable are we with surnames that it seems ridiculous
to toy with that now; in spite of everything that has occurred
between us. I hope that should any cruel fate befall me,
Dana can take comfort from this journal. Although with our almost
psychic connection, I feel a certain affinity with her now, one
that transcends any obstacles put in our path. I only dream
that she will know exactly what I feel for her, confusing though
it is to me. Our bond of trust means so much.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
Days later
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
As my sensitive skin grates on the crude clothing I have been given,
I pray to the God I never had faith in that Dana did not
endure this. The pain is omnipresent; no part of me escapes
the throbbing, stabbing torture. I am taking advantage of this
rare lucidity to transcribe my fear. The fear that what happens
to me now will be the only thing between life and death. There is
so much more left to achieve, and I can sense my proximity to
a goal. As to the specifics of this goal, I am undecided. But
I learned through years of practice never to discount a gut
instinct.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
An indiscriminate day
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
I'm not sure any words I write now are going to express how I feel.
The phrase 'emotional roller coaster' comes to mind, yet
it is not enough. I am exhausted and tireless at the same time:
ecstatic in my triumph, yet crushed by its price. On board this
curious vessel I have uncovered documented and physical proof of
every 'myth' I have devoted myself to. Facts that could defeat
even Dana's scepticism. But the chances of being allowed
to do that are slim. Tragically so.
I sat in an abandoned room, reading files that seemed rather
too convenient. I watched video clips, and observed endless
iles of medical records and slips permitting human experiments.
All of which was encrypted with English and French
translations. The translation made me wary, but I realised
that this was the only 'humanised' section of my prison. My
captors were not in evidence, but nonetheless I could feel
their presence. Watching, taking notes even. Suddenly
emboldened, I looked to type my name on the nearest computer
screen. Seeing no keyboard, I puzzled over its operation.
But when I moved my gaze to the monitor and directed the
thought of my name towards it, the list of names began to
scroll quickly. Eventually, only one record appeared
before me
SCULLY, DANA KATHERINE 02/23/64
Confused, I tried various commands to let me view whatever
information there was. My sole reward was a number. Reminded of
my exploits in the Pentagon, I cursed the alien force for not
devising a more efficient filing system. But sure enough, I found
the one slip of coated paper headed with Dana's name. I was
steadfast enough until I read its contents.
The first paragraph contained the date of her abduction and
various codes. I presumed these to be codes for whatever procedures
they had carried out. The ensuing text chilled me to my very
soul. She had been mapped out to work with me, to be issued certain
challenges, and the brief profile of her it contained was more exact
than anything I could ever dream of whilst working in VCU.
At least it was favourable.
But the part that sickened me, that felt like a blow straight
to the gut, was why my name was included. Fox William Mulder,
child of CGB Spender and Teena Mulder, was destined to uncover the
'operation' and protect the 'merchandise'. But when he did,
Scully would be 'terminated'. Should he remain silent, she
would be 'preserved'. I saw now what this was - a test.
No, it was time for me to evaluate that which I had hidden
behind for so long.
This was who I was - a boy who wanted to know the truth.
"Spooky" Mulder, on his quest to find the little green men. The
cliches that had haunted me now seemed childish. And that was
the most fitting description for them, puerile even. Whenever
my motives were questioned, the reply always involved revealing
government conspirators or proving the dangerous existence of
extraterrestrials. Now that this was within my grasp, the beauty
was tarnished. By telling the people of America, or the world about
this, I would lose Dana.
I agonised for what felt like years. While Dana had never shirked
from her suffering, this was too much to expect of her. Losing a
daughter, her sister and her health had been wasteful to say
the least. Her mother was constantly worried, and her brother
despised me. And my justification? The greater good. Whatever
that meant, it would have to be pretty significant.
Then it dawned on me. While I could have gone on forever without
finding this 'truth', I could not live one day knowing I was
responsible for Dana's death. I needed her too much. I realised
then that until she joined the X-Files, I was fumbling in an
unconquerable darkness. Diana has not helped, nor had my zeal.
Without Scully at my side, I would have surrendered to defeat
seven years ago. Or gone completely mad. At times, I wasn't
sure if I wasn't already crazy. The clarity of my thoughts,
the sense of 'right' I felt in choosing to let Dana survive
was immeasurable. Suddenly I felt true closure.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
Mulder's apartment, 02:24 am
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
Gazing at her tired smile, I know that I would have been
stupid to make a choice other than this. And from hereon in,
I had no intention of playing the clown. Dana's pregnancy was
beginning to make its presence felt. As I drowned in every inch
of her, I felt complete for the first time since Samantha had been
taken. The faint scent of apple shampoo, and her sweet French
perfume made a gentle assault on my nostrils, while my pupils
dilated at her sheer beauty. Her peachy skin seemed more luxurious
than any silk, and the lingering taste of our last kiss had my lips
tingling. It was as perfect as I could have wished for.
Perhaps maturity does come with age, or the fear of losing a
loved one. But I learned an important lesson on that mysterious
ship. Sometimes, it is better to advance one step in safety,
than to see a dangerous quest to its completion. Progress is
gradual in nature, and we can only hope that our contribution
pens paths to others that might follow our lead. One day, the
American people will be told the truth about everything from JFK
to jello. But it will not be me who exposes that truth to
them. And as for my successor, may he be as happy with his choice
as I am today.
Fox Mulder
* * * * * * * * * * *
Author: Dana E. Vassy
Distribution: anywhere and everywhere m'dears. I'd be honoured.
Just drop a line telling me it's eventual location at
scully_is_a_medical@doctor.com
Feedback: Please Please Please! I'm having a self-esteem
crisis!!!!
Category: Mulder POV/angst, eventual MSR?
Rating: PG i.e. clean fic m'lud
Spoilers: Requiem, Sein Und Zeit, Closure, Redux II, Folie A Deux,
most of which are slight and merely referential
Dedications: The essential moral of this tale was a piece of advice
given to me by a very wise woman. Only now do I see its
true importance. So AM, this one is for you - I finally realised
what direction I had to take!
Songs of Inspiration: "Now and Forever" by Richard Marx (you make
sense of madness, when my sanity hangs by a thread); "Never Say
Goodbye" and "I Want You" by Bon Jovi
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
Mulder's apartment, 02:17 am
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
I sit here on the all-too-familiar couch. But it is not the past
overwhelming me as I recline; it is the future. In my hands
there is a gift more precious than anyone could ever hope to
receive. A force that has shaped my life for more years than most
people would think plausible. So many times I came close, only for
this outcome to elude me. Now, it is right before my eyes, and I
will let nothing from this world or the next take it away.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
An alien craft, hours after abduction in Oregon
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
The brightness here is shocking. In all the poxy
dramatisations, such light is used to imply the sanitary and
superior nature of alien visitors. The experience I have dreamed
of so often was now giving me a headache. Typical. Reality never
quite compares to fantasy. Except for in the situation of bedding
...never mind.
This diary-like recording of events is one I know Dana uses
to make sense of madness. I only dare call her 'Dana' in my
head. So comfortable are we with surnames that it seems ridiculous
to toy with that now; in spite of everything that has occurred
between us. I hope that should any cruel fate befall me,
Dana can take comfort from this journal. Although with our almost
psychic connection, I feel a certain affinity with her now, one
that transcends any obstacles put in our path. I only dream
that she will know exactly what I feel for her, confusing though
it is to me. Our bond of trust means so much.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
Days later
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
As my sensitive skin grates on the crude clothing I have been given,
I pray to the God I never had faith in that Dana did not
endure this. The pain is omnipresent; no part of me escapes
the throbbing, stabbing torture. I am taking advantage of this
rare lucidity to transcribe my fear. The fear that what happens
to me now will be the only thing between life and death. There is
so much more left to achieve, and I can sense my proximity to
a goal. As to the specifics of this goal, I am undecided. But
I learned through years of practice never to discount a gut
instinct.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
An indiscriminate day
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
I'm not sure any words I write now are going to express how I feel.
The phrase 'emotional roller coaster' comes to mind, yet
it is not enough. I am exhausted and tireless at the same time:
ecstatic in my triumph, yet crushed by its price. On board this
curious vessel I have uncovered documented and physical proof of
every 'myth' I have devoted myself to. Facts that could defeat
even Dana's scepticism. But the chances of being allowed
to do that are slim. Tragically so.
I sat in an abandoned room, reading files that seemed rather
too convenient. I watched video clips, and observed endless
iles of medical records and slips permitting human experiments.
All of which was encrypted with English and French
translations. The translation made me wary, but I realised
that this was the only 'humanised' section of my prison. My
captors were not in evidence, but nonetheless I could feel
their presence. Watching, taking notes even. Suddenly
emboldened, I looked to type my name on the nearest computer
screen. Seeing no keyboard, I puzzled over its operation.
But when I moved my gaze to the monitor and directed the
thought of my name towards it, the list of names began to
scroll quickly. Eventually, only one record appeared
before me
SCULLY, DANA KATHERINE 02/23/64
Confused, I tried various commands to let me view whatever
information there was. My sole reward was a number. Reminded of
my exploits in the Pentagon, I cursed the alien force for not
devising a more efficient filing system. But sure enough, I found
the one slip of coated paper headed with Dana's name. I was
steadfast enough until I read its contents.
The first paragraph contained the date of her abduction and
various codes. I presumed these to be codes for whatever procedures
they had carried out. The ensuing text chilled me to my very
soul. She had been mapped out to work with me, to be issued certain
challenges, and the brief profile of her it contained was more exact
than anything I could ever dream of whilst working in VCU.
At least it was favourable.
But the part that sickened me, that felt like a blow straight
to the gut, was why my name was included. Fox William Mulder,
child of CGB Spender and Teena Mulder, was destined to uncover the
'operation' and protect the 'merchandise'. But when he did,
Scully would be 'terminated'. Should he remain silent, she
would be 'preserved'. I saw now what this was - a test.
No, it was time for me to evaluate that which I had hidden
behind for so long.
This was who I was - a boy who wanted to know the truth.
"Spooky" Mulder, on his quest to find the little green men. The
cliches that had haunted me now seemed childish. And that was
the most fitting description for them, puerile even. Whenever
my motives were questioned, the reply always involved revealing
government conspirators or proving the dangerous existence of
extraterrestrials. Now that this was within my grasp, the beauty
was tarnished. By telling the people of America, or the world about
this, I would lose Dana.
I agonised for what felt like years. While Dana had never shirked
from her suffering, this was too much to expect of her. Losing a
daughter, her sister and her health had been wasteful to say
the least. Her mother was constantly worried, and her brother
despised me. And my justification? The greater good. Whatever
that meant, it would have to be pretty significant.
Then it dawned on me. While I could have gone on forever without
finding this 'truth', I could not live one day knowing I was
responsible for Dana's death. I needed her too much. I realised
then that until she joined the X-Files, I was fumbling in an
unconquerable darkness. Diana has not helped, nor had my zeal.
Without Scully at my side, I would have surrendered to defeat
seven years ago. Or gone completely mad. At times, I wasn't
sure if I wasn't already crazy. The clarity of my thoughts,
the sense of 'right' I felt in choosing to let Dana survive
was immeasurable. Suddenly I felt true closure.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
Mulder's apartment, 02:24 am
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
Gazing at her tired smile, I know that I would have been
stupid to make a choice other than this. And from hereon in,
I had no intention of playing the clown. Dana's pregnancy was
beginning to make its presence felt. As I drowned in every inch
of her, I felt complete for the first time since Samantha had been
taken. The faint scent of apple shampoo, and her sweet French
perfume made a gentle assault on my nostrils, while my pupils
dilated at her sheer beauty. Her peachy skin seemed more luxurious
than any silk, and the lingering taste of our last kiss had my lips
tingling. It was as perfect as I could have wished for.
Perhaps maturity does come with age, or the fear of losing a
loved one. But I learned an important lesson on that mysterious
ship. Sometimes, it is better to advance one step in safety,
than to see a dangerous quest to its completion. Progress is
gradual in nature, and we can only hope that our contribution
pens paths to others that might follow our lead. One day, the
American people will be told the truth about everything from JFK
to jello. But it will not be me who exposes that truth to
them. And as for my successor, may he be as happy with his choice
as I am today.
Fox Mulder
* * * * * * * * * * *