Candlelight
By
AllyinthekeyofX
SUMMERY –
Playing with fire is sometimes the only way. Mulder POV/first person narrative.
NOTES –
This is set somewhere in season 7. Post 'All Things' and it should be noted that I am a true believer in the 'All Things' Mulder/Scully sex phenomena. In my universe at least, by this point they are engaging in the naked pretzel on a semi-regular basis. Spoilers for 'Irresistible' and 'Orison' which are easily two of my all-time favourite episodes. Donnie Pfaster continues to creep me out and will prevent me always from ever having groceries delivered! This is completed bar the usual read through, corrections and edits. And comprises of 4 parts. Reviews make me type faster ;) I realise I have a couple or three unfinished stories on the go at the moment. But I always have a few on the go. It's just how my brain works.
DISCLAIMER –
None of these characters belong to me. They remain the sole property of Chris Carter, Ten Thirteen productions and FOX. They have lots of money as a result. I on the other hand have none.
Part 2 – Strategy
I still find it hard to get used to the fact that, instead of the strident tones of my alarm clock jarring me awake, for the most part I now enjoy Scully's feather light touch as she coaxes me gently to full wakefulness.
Gone are the days where I used to literally throw myself out of sleep, usually being pursued by faceless men who lurked in the dark corners of my mind. Waiting to consume me – to consume us as the nightmares refused to loosen their grip on me.
But now I don't really dream.
And when I do, I dream of her.
Sometimes, when I open my eyes and see her beside me, I have trouble believing that she's really here with me. That she isn't just a fragment of a dream.
Today is no exception. I'm still groggy and only half awake as I reach out my hand to touch her. To affirm she is really there.
She smiles, her eyes soft and warm as she whispers that I should sleep a little longer. That I look exhausted.
No argument from me there. I had lain awake for most of the night. Silent and still I watched over her in the darkness. Eventually though, at some point between the lessening of night and the breaking of dawn - as the sky became streaked with that golden light that heralds the start of a new day – I had finally managed to switch my brain off and fall asleep.
But not before I had begun to formulate a plan.
It is a plan that both terrifies me and fills me with hope. A hope that I can somehow help her to mend herself. That she can dispel the fear that lives inside of her as a result of what he put her through, not once but twice.
My hope for her is born of a love for her that is so strong that it blinds me to everything else. I am powerless to resist.
But it's a gamble. A gamble that I'm almost scared to take.
I've learned the hard way that some actions, no matter how well meaning, can have dire consequences.
It's not a question of guilt. I accepted a long time ago that I am not wholly responsible for every choice Scully makes or has made. She is her own person. She always has been. But for years I refused to accept that. Self-obsessed and hurting I refused to allow her the luxury of recrimination, believing it to be mine alone. And in doing so I almost lost her for good. No second chances. No turning back.
I had watched as she retreated further and further away from me. Deeper in to herself as she fought to survive. And I wasn't a part of her survival plan. The humiliation that was Diana Fowley still burned and simmered inside of her. There was nowhere for it to go.
Sure, we still worked together but our relationship at that point, both personal and professional was in tatters.
To a casual observer it would have seemed like nothing much had changed. But I knew. Oh yeah, I knew.
My flirtation with Diana had hurt her. But that was nothing compared to the ultimate betrayal – that I had placed more trust in this woman from my past than I had placed in Scully.
She didn't hate me exactly for what I'd done.
What she felt for me was worse and to me at least, all too obvious.
She felt nothing.
To her, I had made myself in to a non-person. In order to protect herself she had shut me out. I had betrayed her in the worst way and by the time I had realised just how much I had hurt her, it was almost too late.
Almost.
But finally, things had got better between us. We had found ourselves again. If anything, we managed to crawl out the other side with our allegiance and friendship intact.
And for once we had talked.
Scully had laid down her conditions to enable her to remain working with me. Top of the list was trust. Because if I didn't trust her, then there was nothing.
I had listened. I had learned.
And now I am wondering if I am about to throw it all away.
But I have to do something. Because as real as her pain and hurt is, mine is also real.
It's a pain I have felt since that awful night when I watched my partner lose control.
Watched as she shot a man who was already captured. Who wasn't armed. Who had nowhere to go, nowhere to run. She killed him in cold blood. With no warning. And legally at least, with no good reason.
I lied for her at the subsequent OPR hearing. And I know those lies eat away at her.
We've never talked about it. Not really. Like most things, we just picked ourselves up and carried on.
As though it never happened.
Have I mentioned it's one of our skills?
I never told her that I was secretly relieved that she had been the one to pull the trigger, that she had done me a great service. Because if it hadn't been her, it would surely have been me. I can still see her face, alarmingly devoid of emotion as she ended his life.
She cried for hours that night, seeking absolution for what she had done and I allowed her bear that burden without ever speaking up. Without ever telling her that she had been right. That in killing him, she had slain a monster. That if she hadn't slain him, I would have done the job for her.
The difference being of course that Scully had ended his life quickly.
I wouldn't have shown the bastard the same mercy.
I would have made him suffer.
I would have emptied my clip in to every conceivable part of his body. Slowly and methodically choosing areas that would cause him maximum pain whilst still allowing him to live. Until finally I would have stuffed the barrel of my Sig in to his bloodied mouth and made him eat it.
And I would have relished hearing every single one of his screams. I would have made him beg me for release.
It's not a nice thing to admit but I should have admitted it.
To her, I should have opened my mouth and fucking admitted it.
I could have in part at least, eased her guilt a long time ago. But I didn't. Because I can't bring myself to admit to her that I feel cheated that I wasn't the one who killed him. That I wished it had been me.
I'm a selfish bastard sometimes.
Scully had her own reasons for doing what she did that night. She deserved absolution, not me. And so I allowed her to kill him. I allowed her to take responsibility. I have regretted it every single day since then.
Because I should have known that she could never gain absolution from such an act.
She doesn't think like me.
Thank Christ she doesn't think like me.
I can't turn the clock back. What's done is done.
But I can at least try to make amends.
And then I sleep.
Continued Part 3
