The other point of view
Author: Liffen_Aira
Co-author and translator: MrsSpooky
Pairing: Mulder/Scully
Rating: NC-17
Classification: S, A, R, Scully POV
Spoilers: Pilot, Squeeze, Fire, Little green men, Duane Barry, Firewalker, Anasazi, Never Again, the End, One Son/Two fathers, Milagro, En ami.
Warning: possible OOC
Disclaimer: nothing new here, the same mantra all over again: the X-Files is owned by Fox; no infringement of copyright is intended.
Feedback: highly appreciated. They give an impulse to keep going.
Summary: I had to debunk Agent Mulder's work. In other words, they were sending me to spy and report on him. Did I understand back then what I was getting myself into?
Translator's note: this is some kind of continuation of the fic "My demon and a red-headed wench", which describes how M&S take their relationship to the next logical level from Scully's point of view.
Chapter 1
I heard a lot about Agent Mulder way back at the Academy.
His monograph about serial killers and the occult which helped in tracking down the notorious serial killer Monte Propps as well as capturing of John Roche and Luther Lee Boggs made Fox Mulder some kind of a legend in the FBI.
While I still built up my experience at Quantico's morgues, he was already expected to make a brilliant career in the Bureau. I was looking forward to working with such brilliant agent, thinking that it would be quite interesting and enlightening experience. I told him that much when we first met, eliciting an indulgent smile from him in return. Our greeting hung in the air between us as I gave him a slightly confused look. It seemed he knew perfectly well why the superiors had assigned me, Dana Scully, to his division. Earlier in the Blevins's office they had made it crystal clear that I would have to debunk Agent Mulder's work. In other words, they were sending me to spy and report on him.
Did I understand back then what I was getting myself into?
Our first X-file became a revelation for me. All my knowledge and experience couldn't help me explain those events I encountered in Bellefleur. Scientific facts, I was used to rely on, turned out to be useless. For Mulder this mysterious world was well-known and habitual while for me it seemed challenging and impossible.
When all evidence from Karen Swenson's case was destroyed, the autopsy bay with findings from Ray Soames's examination was trashed, and our motel with X-ray and pictures in my room was burnt to the ground I should have left Mulder in Oregon and come back to Washington. I knew better than stay there any longer. But- I followed my new partner to the Bellefleur cemetery.
While icy rain drops were falling on our heads, and my teeth were clattering because of cold, Agent Mulder was standing by the unearthed, empty grave and enthusiastically sharing his theory with me. I caught his every word, gaping at him. Mulder didn't try to convince me that the bodies stolen from the graves, mysterious deaths of those kids in the forest, and disappearance of the nine minutes were work of the extraterrestrials. He was babbling about it as though it was a well-known and hard fact.
"You think I'm crazy." He asserted it, not asked.
I was looking at him through the shroud of rain, musing over everything what had happened since we came to this town. My habitual world was vanishing, giving place to the striking and unknown one. I realized that there was going on something beyond ordinary. I should have already guessed back then that it wouldn't be limited by the only one rainy night.
With his shoulders slumped, he walked a few steps away from me and then looked back. I had to make a decision: either stay and turn back or step forward and follow him.
His conviction that all of this had something to do with extraterrestrials made me smile. His enthusiasm was so contagious that I couldn't help but believed him. And as though sensing my hesitation, he came back. His piercing eyes were darting over my face hungrily.
"What?" he asked, his voice just barely above whisper.
And then we both burst out. We were staring at each other, arguing about inconceivable things and discussing facts in an impossible vein! Mulder was telling about tests that were being done on the victims, about genetic mutations which might be caused by extraterrestrial tests, about an alien impulse.
I agreed with all his reasoning, tasting the rain on my lips. It was as if some kind of slight insanity seized us at that moment. We were whispering like a couple of teenagers who had just gotten to know the greatest mystery of the Universe. As Mulder's theory got a right to exist after all, we laughed like crazy.
There was no today, no yesterday, no tomorrow – only the rain and we two. Mulder leaned closer, and it occurred to me that he was going to press his lips to my own. I went hot and cold all over and suddenly realized that everything was going to hell. So, I stepped away hurriedly. It was time to come back to reality.
"Let's go," he called me.
"Where are we going?"
"We are going to pay a visit to someone."
And I was ready to follow him from now on. Whatever happens.
My new partner with his archive of unexplained crimes heated imagination of many federal agents as well as the Bureau senior executives. One of the best analysts of the FBI with impressive work experience in the VCU wasted, according to our colleagues, his time, trying to find out who and when could see flying saucers.
Mulder with his passion for everything paranormal was misunderstood and ridiculed. Although it didn't stop even the most notorious mockers from seeking out his help when they found themselves at a dead end. That was what happened in the Eugene Tooms's case.
I was approached by Agent Tom Colton, a fellow student from the Academy. When we met over lunch, he was at loss, obviously not knowing how to handle the investigation of the hideous serial killings, resulting in ripping out of the victims' livers with bare hands. All bodies were found in locked up or high-security places.
I should have been more cautious and guessed Tom's motives right away. His bosses were putting pressure on him, but he couldn't show them any progress. Obviously, he had turned to me only because he knew that I'd get Agent Mulder involved in the investigation.
Capture of the perpetrator became possible solely because of my partner's work. Mulder found an elongated fingerprint on the cover of the narrow ventilation shaft in the last victim's office. He was sure that he'd seen identical prints in the X-files archive from the serial killing cases in 1933 and 1963 years.
Using the special software, Mulder was able to squash Tooms's print sideways, then stretch it lengthways until he got a match for the print from the 30-years-old case.
That was how we got trace evidence against a certain Eugene Tooms whom we had arrested earlier. When I told Colton about our findings, he went ballistic because he found Mulder's theory about 100-year-old serial killer, who killed every thirty years, to be absolutely ridiculous.
I realized that if I took Mulder's side once, there would be no going back. I'd been assigned to the X-files to debunk Mulder's bizarre ideas from the scientific point of view and discredit his work eventually so it was getting harder for me to balance between my imputed duties and attempts to protect Mulder; I had to choose words carefully as I formulated yet another report for our superiors.
And although Mulder suggested me to think twice before I kept on supporting his 'unpopular theories', there wasn't any doubt in my mind.
Colton, for his part, made it clear that I'd flush my career in the FBI down the toilet by staying with Mulder. Maybe Tom thought that I'd thank him for his warming, but no such luck! I told him to go screw himself.
My work on the X-files got me captivated profoundly.
I knew at first he suspected me of being in cahoots with the FBI bosses who'd been dreaming of getting rid of his pet-project – the X-files. Of course, he never accused me of being a spy to my face back then. Mulder was just waiting for my misstep to report it to our superiors and demand my transfer without further ado.
Much as I tried to help him with his investigations, Mulder still preferred to work alone, not giving himself the trouble to let me know his intentions or whereabouts.
Sometimes it seemed to me that in doing so he not only tested my limits but also made it clear that he didn't need my help. And he got more and more creative in his attempts to prove his independence from me.
So, once I had to rush to New Jersey on my weekend to get him out of a drunk tank and then chase some unidentified wild creature through the local forest.
Later I sat silently, receiving a reprimand from our bosses, after he had headed for Wisconsin on a tip from yet another source to find an UFO downed by the military.
It seemed that a little more, and I would break down, give up, and tell my new partner to get lost forever.
But the more I thought about it, the more often I caught his surprised glance. Maybe he hadn't expected of me to last for so long. Whatever, the division still got new cases, so we had to adapt to each other.
It seemed it came as a surprise for both of us that our teamwork paid off nicely. And although we rarely found common ground during our investigations, but much to our own surprise as well as surprise of the entire Bureau we became an efficient team.
It was as though we accepted that there were some things beyond our control. In other words, it wasn't easy, but we had to adjust to each other inevitably.
By then I had gotten to known Mulder well enough to understand that my partner was smart, witty, charming, impossibly stubborn and a real pain in the neck, and for the icing on the cake – a selfish son of a bitch.
I often tried to figure Fox Mulder out. Who was he really? A crazy paranoid as he was seen by people around him? A brilliant profiler? A man who could easily open up doors of mysterious worlds? Or just an ordinary man who liked to nibble sunflower seeds, used services of hot bimbos whose number starts with 1-900, and had a collection of adult magazines?
Anyway, I couldn't help but admit that Fox Mulder turned out to be very peculiar person. And I must confess that this discovery had fascinated me.
We'd been working together a little longer than a half-year when Phoebe Green made her appearance.
Frankly, we didn't like each other at first sight, and not because she turned out to be a beautiful English woman. And this antipathy even had nothing to do with her persistent efforts to pretend that I didn't exist at all. I suppose that she was just a top-class bitch and did her best to emphasize it.
Although Mulder gave her another definition, comparing her to fire, it didn't change who Ms. Green truly was.
Phoebe needed help in investigating serial murders committed by an arsonist, so she turned to Mulder for it. The perpetrator targeted English aristocrats, burning them alive and not leaving evidence at the crime scenes at all. It seemed that Ms. Green didn't have any doubts about getting what she had come to the FBI and she turned out to be right, because Mulder agreed to participate in the investigation. That was when he confessed to me that Phoebe had broken his heart many years ago, and he hated fire and was scared to death by it.
As Mulder turned down my offer to help, I couldn't help but feel offended by it. I could understand his reasoning; he wanted to overcome his pyrophobia to put on a brave front for his ex-girlfriend's benefit. But I also saw Mulder flying toward that fire called Phoebe Green like a moth.
Having hid my resentment deep inside, I decided to help him with the investigation nevertheless. Phoebe could turn Mulder's head with her charming smiles and witty comments, but I knew the way to bring my partner back to his senses. Substantiated facts and a scientific approach had an effect of a cold shower on him, cooling Mulder's ardour. And I must confess that it was my personal achievement.
Well, I was also equipped with arsenal of various feminine tricks, but I preferred to act in a different way. Having studied the case file from the ground up and consulted an arson specialist, I wrote a profile of the arsonist on my own. So, all I had to do was follow Mulder and Phoebe to Boston to share this information with them.
Later, as I replayed in my memory everything what had been going on in the hotel "Plaza" in Boston, I reproached myself for undue loyalty. I should have insisted and made Mulder hear me out when I had called him earlier to fill him in on the work done. He had pleaded busy and brushed me off as though I was a little girl rather than his partner. I could have heard awkwardness and irritation in his voice. You bet! I had distracted him from something what made his 'hands full' as he'd put it.
Like in some soap-opera, I came across Mulder in lip-lock with Phoebe. I should have guessed what he was going to fill his hands with- I saw enough to understand that Mulder wasn't on top, so to speak, in this relationship with Ms. Green -
I bit my lip, trying to take my shattered emotions under control. At the moment it crossed my mind that there were too many sparks flying around, so we were in danger of combusting and burning to ashes because of them.
The pair was whirling in time with the music and not noticing anything around them. I was looking at them for a while, wondering whether I should interrupt their dance and spill out the information, I'd collected so persistently? My doubts were resolved by the hotel fire alarm which set off a minute later. There was a fire on one of the flours where the children were. Mulder attempted to save them by himself, but hared out, inhaled too much smoke, and lost his consciousness. A very different man became a hero of that night; as it turned out, he was a driver of the English couple, whom Phoebe was meant to protect. My speculations about this 'fearless' man I preferred to keep to myself for the time being.
As firemen helped Mulder out of the smoke-filled hall, I decided it was time to throw away all hard feelings and half-words. After all, I was a doctor, and Mulder needed professional medical assistance. So, when everybody calmed down and got back to their rooms, I stayed with him.
Handing him a glass of water patiently, I tried to ignore his sulky expression. I was torn between sympathy for him and anger. I sincerely worried about him, but he had it coming. Looking at his doleful face, I realized that he got it figured out too, but was too stubborn to admit it. He was pacing the room, obviously going through his today's failure over and over. As Mulder retreated to the bathroom, I thanked him inwardly. It was getting unbearable to look at the bare chest of a young, strong man even if he was just my partner.
Having decided that I reached the limit of my sympathy, I asked him whether he wanted to know why I had flied to Boston after all or not? Then I shared with him my suspicions concerning that driver who had saved the children from the fire. While I was filling him in on the information, Phoebe got into the room and declared right away that my suspect, as she put it, had been working for the couple for eight years by now and was clean. Also she told us that she was going back to England in a few days.
Probably, she hoped that I'd leave her alone with Mulder tactfully, but these last days showed me that politeness and good manners weren't always good advisers. I wasn't going to make Mulder go through even more worries. Especially because of Phoebe Green. She had brought with her only chaos and extravagancy. And, to put it mildly, these were the last things Mulder needed in his life. If he wasn't able to take care of himself and keep in mind our work and partnership, then it was time for me to take matters in my own hands.
I shared my findings and guesses with Mulder. He listened to me reluctantly, still reeling from the conversation with Phoebe. But as I presented him facts one by one, my partner's expression changed until I noticed a familiar glint in his eyes. My heart started beating faster as a sense of relief and pride washed over me. Well, I was able to capture his attention finally. Now he was listening to me with increasing interest and impatience. Ultimately, I got Fox Mulder back to my disposal.
He mapped out a plan, according to which I had to stay at the hotel, call for the local field office, and get them to fax to me a composite of the suspect while he was going to catch Phoebe and her charges in their house in Cape Cod. We both were certain that they were in danger.
At last Mulder found the strength to overcome his pyrophobia.
The arsonist turned out to be that man from the hotel, who, actually, was a caretaker of his next targeted victim's house. He had enough time to draw up a meticulous plan while he worked there. It seemed that he had soaked the walls with some kind of fuel because as he lit a match, everything erupted in flames. Mulder was able to save the children from the burning building, and the suspect with multiple burns was taken to the hospital and confined to a hyperbaric chamber.
Since then Mulder had never mentioned his ex-girlfriend. I hoped he realized that she had used him, pursuing her own goals.
Phoebe Green returned to England, and my partner stopped fearing fire.
And I welcomed this fact because of my bright red, flame-coloured hair.