Chapter Two
This was not how things were supposed to have happened. Something wasn't right, and Fox Mulder didn't know where he had screwed it up. What had he done or said to make Dana say those things? Didn't he remember to cross all the T's and dot all I's? Or was this some kind of dream and he was going to find himself awake in a sweaty mess of sheets?
No, something had gone wrong, and it was something he had said. It had to be. This seemed to be par for the course. He usually made some remark that caused Scully to roll her eyes in that way that secretly made him smile. But this time, she wasn't smiling.
'Think, damn you, think.' He kept telling himself over and over in his mind, replaying the scene.
Xxx
"How did he take it?" Skinner asked with a little more care in his voice than he would have liked to show.
Dana cleared her throat and sniffed. "Not well, I'm afraid." She paused. "But, that's what the desired effect is supposed to be, now isn't it? Get him to be utterly despondent and broken? Reduce him to nothing? His life's work, in ruins?"
Skinner eyed her with skepticism. "You know full well your role from the beginning was to not get personally involved in this, Agent," he intoned. "You knew the consequences."
"But that doesn't make it any less palatable, now does it?" she asked, removing a tissue from her pocket, dabbing her eyes. "It had to be personal, or it would not have been believable. Blevins and his superiors knew this from the start. Even the Smoking Bastard knew, and God knows what stake he has in all this."
Skinner knew his agents better than anyone, even more so than the Smoking Man or Blevins. There was something she wasn't telling him, and however much it might pain him to know the truth, she would need to tell him. He sat behind his desk, removed his glasses and rubbed the bridge of his nose before addressing her again. "How far did you go, Agent Scully?" he asked. "How close did you allow Mulder to get to you?"
Dana looked to her left and down at her feet before looking him directly in the eyes, defying him to look away from her. "He fell in love with me, Sir," she said bluntly. Her blue eyes began to moisten. "He told me how much he loved me, wanted me, and needed me. I let him make love to me."
Skinner looked uncomfortable, loosening his tie, but his eyes never left hers. "But…?" he asked.
"But….I….I told him I had no feelings for him," she said calmly, dabbing her eyes again, and sniffing once more. "It was a bigger lie than spying on him. I think he could live with that, but not without being loved. His parents…" She sat down in her customary facing chair. "I've probably killed him."
Xxx
Fox sat at his desk in the basement lair, thinking, going over the past several months of their working relationship in his mind. Something was bound to jump out at him. When Agent Scully had first come to work with him, he halfheartedly thought that she had been sent to spy on him. That uncertainty had become a reality when he discovered documents in her computer: reports to Section Chief Blevins about their cases, and specifically Mulder's suppositions on those cases; theories, MO's, hints of alien abductions, or anything that even hinted of the paranormal.
To the untrained eye, it would have appeared as though her field reports were innocuous enough, but he could see beyond the fluff and prose. She was doing her damnedest to persecute him, but all the while making it look like he himself was doing it. She agreed with him only when it was absolutely necessary. She had seen enough to believe, so why was she having such a hard time doing so? Did it really rock the foundations of her religion and science that much? To the point that she was closed minded to all other possibilities other than the ones she deemed worthy of pursuit or that were tangible?
At some point, he had begun to care for her. To love her. And to him, it appeared that she had those same feelings for him. She responded with intimate touches and a closeness that no other woman had ever given him, not Phoebe, not Diana. They breathed one another's air. Shared spaces. Lived each other's souls. An intimate trust that transcended friendship.
At least that's what he thought.
And then, one night, she slept with him. He wasn't sure who instigated it, but it didn't really matter now. He was overcome with joy and was saddened when it was over and done, but damn what an utterly incredible night they'd spent together. Their lovemaking was almost ritualistic.
He remembered her screaming 'Fox' when she came, and whispering something about 'love'. And he remembered something else…he wondered why he had almost blocked it out…those four innocent words, words that would seemingly change everything…'Diana…I love you…'
