Title: Blessed Union of Souls I: Not the Doctor 11/11
Author: Somogyi
Email: somogyi02@yahoo.com
Category: SRA
Rating: R for language
Spoilers: Through Season Five
Keywords: M/S UST
Summary: A man from Scully's past returns, asking for her and Mulder's help to
stop the development of a deadly biological weapon. But will the case bring
Mulder and Scully closer together, or tear them apart?
Disclaimer: The X-Files, Dana Scully, Fox Mulder, and all other characters
associated with the series are the property of Chris Carter, Ten-Thirteen
Productions, and the Fox Network. Characters are used without permission and no
profit is being made.
*****
"Not the Doctor"
by Somogyi
somogyi02@yahoo.com
Chapter 11
I don't want to be your babysitter
You're a very big boy now
I don't want to be your mother
I didn't carry you in my womb for nine months
Show me the back door
"Well, I'd say that about does it," said Detective Williams of the Virginia PD
as he closed his notebook and stuffed it into the pocket of his blazer.
*About bloody time,* Scully thought, closing her eyes and craning her neck
backwards to get the kinks out. She could not remember the last time she had
felt so tired. *That tends to happen when you don't sleep for nearly forty-eight
hours, Dana.*
She and Mulder had taken the first available flight back to DC. Since she had
left her car at the airport, she took pity on Mulder and drove him back to his
apartment. The exhaustion from his injury had apparently finally caught up with
him, because he dozed the entire trip home. It was just as well as far as Scully
was concerned, because she really did not want to talk to him right now.
She pulled up in front of his apartment and shut off the engine. She was
prepared to drop him off and go home for a much-needed bath before going to
sleep for the next week. That is, before she stole a glance at her partner.
Mulder slept with his chin tucked into his chest, his head lifting ever-so-
slightly with each breath. She gazed at him, amazed at the way he looked like an
innocent boy when he slept. An image swept across her mind's eye of a night
spent in a forest in the Florida Everglades. Her back propped against a log,
Mulder curled up like a small child in her lap, her arms wrapped securely around
him in an attempt to keep him warm. His sleepy plea for her to sing him a
lullaby. Seeing him now, one again hurt and tired, she had a similar urge to
take him into her arms, to hold him close and protect him from harm. She slowly
reached for his forehead, intent on brushing a stray lock of hair that had
fallen onto his brow.
*What the hell are you thinking, Dana?* she chided herself, her hand quickly
falling to her side. *If you coddle him now, he's going to get away with it
again. How many times has he taken advantage of your kindness, of your
forgiveness? He constantly ditches you, conveniently forgets that you might
actually be worried about what the hell he's doing, and only bothers to remember
when it's convenient for him, when he wants something. He doesn't treat you as a
partner, but as a nursemaid, as damage control. He doesn't give you the respect
you deserve. And if you don't finally say or do something about it, the pattern
is just going to repeat again and again and again. I'd say it's about fucking
time that you put an end to it. Here and now. Tonight.*
She reached for him again, this time grasping his arm and shaking him none-too-
gently. "Mulder, wake up. You're home."
He stirred, his eyes fluttering open and his head lifting. "Wha-What'd you say,
Scully?"
"I said you're home, Mulder. C'mon, I'll walk you up." She got out of the car
and walked over to the passenger side. Seeing him fumble with the handle with
his left hand, she jerked the door open for him.
"Thanks," he mumbled, climbing out of the car and closing the door behind him.
He started to walk towards the front door, but his legs grew wobbly, and he felt
himself falter.
"Easy does it," he heard her say as she slipped under his left arm. He accepted
her help with no protest, and leaned heavily on her shoulder as they made their
way into the building and to the elevator. As they slowly walked down the
corridor toward his apartment, they saw two men in suits and ties and dark
trenchcoats waiting for them. They introduced themselves as Detectives Williams
and Alvarez of the Virginia PD, there to take Mulder's statement about his
involvement--or lack thereof--in the Andraven murder case.
After depositing Mulder on his living room couch, Scully put up a pot of coffee
and then retreated to the bathroom to wash up. After placing a tray-full of
steaming mugs onto the coffee table, she sat down at Mulder's desk and listened
to the detectives conduct their interview.
They explained that Skinner had contacted their captain to inform him that
Mulder had been located, and that new evidence had surfaced which would prove
his innocence. The Assistant Director had explained about the video tape. Both
the Bureau's Video Production Unit and the VAPD's equivalent were verifying the
reliability of the barometer as evidence. Williams and Alvarez had already
contacted NYPD Detectives Toni Sabella and Doug Berger, who vouched for Mulder
being in their company during the time the murder was committed. They questioned
Mulder a bit about the last time he had seen Andraven, as well as his
involvement in the shooting and building fire in New York. Finally, over an hour
after they arrived, they took their leave.
"I'm sorry for any inconvenience, Agent Scully," Detective Williams told her,
actually managing to sound repentant. "We were just doing our jobs, is all. No
hard feelings?" he asked, holding out his hand.
Scully shook it. "Thank you for taking care of this so quickly, Detective."
"Yeah, well, I think your boss is even more of a tight ass than my captain.
Anyway, you and your partner get some rest. You both look like you could sleep
for a week." With a final nod, he left.
Scully closed the door with a weary sigh. She looked at her watch: 10:13 AM.
God, it wasn't even noon yet. She returned to the living room, intent on
offering a hasty good-bye before heading home. She found Mulder trying to gather
the mugs onto the tray.
"I'll take care of it, Mulder," she muttered, grabbing them from him and
depositing them in the kitchen sink with a bang. "You should get some rest,
Mulder," she told him as she returned. "Do you have any pain medication you can
take?"
"I'm sure I have something left over somewhere," he mumbled as he kicked off his
shoes and lay back with a grimace on the couch.
"All right, then. I'm outta here," she said, walking to the desk to collect her
things.
"What, no sponge bath before you go?" he asked, giving her his patented puppy-
dog pout.
This time, it did not have its usual effect. No flip-flop of her heart. No
sudden rush of desire. Not even the impulse to baby him. Instead, she had the
sudden urge to dump a bucket-full of cold water on him. Somehow, though, she
doubted even that rude awakening would have the desired effect. "Why don't you
give Toni a call? Hey, I bet Marita could charter them a private jet, and you
could get a threesome going."
His eyes shot open and he turned his head to look at her, brow furrowed.
"Scully, what the hell is up with you lately? You've been acting strange ever
since--"
"What's up with *me*? With *me*? I can't believe you have the audacity to ask me
such a question!"
"Scully, you're not still hung up about my trip to New York, are you?"
Was he for real? How could he not realize how upset she was? Did he merely view
her as some unfeeling object? Someone to answer to his beck and call, to come
bail him out of trouble whenever the need arose, and never protest? Well, it was
time for him to get his head out of his ass, and realize that she was more than
his mindless minion.
"God, you just don't get it, do you, Mulder? Do you know how worried I've been?
I hate not knowing, wondering where the hell you are, if you're alive, if you're
lying somewhere, bleeding to death. Do you realize what I've been through in the
past two days? Forget the fact that I sat in that goddammed restaurant for over
two hours waiting for you to show up.
That's a walk in the park compared to what came next. Ihave disobeyed a direct
order from my superior. I have lied and stolen. I have humiliated myself. I have
put everything on the line. And for what? For a so-called partner and friend who
couldn't even be bothered to hit the speed dial on his cell-phone. "Do you
know how upset I was when I got to the Rausch building and heard that you'd been
shot? Do you realize that I spent the entire drive to the hospital with my heart
in my throat, wondering if you were alive or dead? When they told me it was
little more than a flesh wound, all I could think about was getting to you, to
see with my own eyes that you were okay. And then I walked into the room, and
saw you laughing and joking with Detective Sabella. I'd been going out of my
head with worry, and you were trying to score."
"Scully, it wasn't like that at all. I don't know where this sudden jealous
streak has come from, but there's nothing between Toni and me."
"That's not the point, Mulder. I don't give a damn who you fuck. The point is
that while you were amusing the good detective, it never occurred to you that I
might be wondering where the hell you were. The point is that you had no
compunctions about working with this stranger, of going into a fire zone with
her to cover your back, while you couldn't be bothered to let me back you up.
Did it even occur to you to pick up a phone?"
"Scully, we didn't have time to wait for you to get to New York. They were about
to torch the place--"
"Please, stop! Stop with the goddamned excuses! I don't want to hear it
anymore!"
"Fine!" he shouted back. "Because I really don't think I owe you any kind of
explanation anyway."
"Bullshit! You owe me that, and then some!"
"Why? You're not my goddamned keeper, Scully."
"Well, maybe if you behaved like a rational adult, you wouldn't need one."
"What the hell is that supposed to mean?"
"That means that maybe if you acted maturely, and didn't constantly run off
half-cocked, I wouldn't feel the need to play protector."
"What the hell do you want from me, Scully? What do you want me to say? What is
it you want to hear from me?"
She was positively livid now. How could any thinking, breathing, feeling human
being be so dense, so clueless? Mulder usually considered himself intuitive, but
right now he might as well have his head buried in the sand.
"How about `I'm sorry, Scully'? That'd be a great start. `I'm sorry for treating
you like shit.' `I'm sorry for not giving you the respect you deserve as my
partner and friend.' Is any of this registering in that thick skull of yours,
Mulder? Here, let me spell it out for you: I am sick and tired of being
forgotten about, ignored, and taken for granted. This may be a newsflash to you,
but I do not like being ditched. I do not like being left out of the loop. I
don't like playing damage control, chasing you all around the country to wipe
your nose and bandage your wounds. And I sure as hell do not like having to take
the heat when you screw up."
"Scully, I've never asked you to--"
At this point, she was seeing red. It took all her restraint not to pull out her
gun and shoot him where he lay, or to pummel him with her bare hands. Instead,
she blindly reached for the nearest heavy object--which happened to be a
snowglobe sitting on his desk--and pitched it at his head with a vehement shout.
Luckily, her aim was a little off, and it smashed against the wall behind the
couch, pieces of plastic and fake snow and stale water raining down on the
cushions.
"No, Mulder, you've never asked me to play nursemaid, but you've expected it.
You've assumed that if you get into trouble, good little Scully will come to
bail you out. You decide to follow a lead on your own and things go sour, Scully
will come to your rescue, no questions asked. You get information from a
supposed-informant but don't bother to tell your partner where it came from--no
big deal, Scully won't care. And for six years, I haven't said boo to you. I've
gone along with your selfish, foolish actions, giving you my loyalty. But you
know what, Mulder, enough's enough. A partnership is supposed to cut both ways,
but right now it feels a little one-sided. And I'm sick and tired of it. I've
had it up to here--" she raised her hand a foot above her head-- "with your
impulsive behavior."
Pausing to take a breath, Scully noticed that Mulder had been looking for the
longest time at wet blotch on his wall where the globe impacted. His mind seemed
a million miles away. He was, in fact, remembering how they had traveled to the
Norwegian Sea during their second year together to investigate a ship whose crew
had mysteriously aged at an accelerated rate. He and Scully had similarly fallen
victim to rapid aging. After they ran out of water, Scully had managed to
collect a small jar of liquid--consisting of sardine juice, half-a-dozen lemons,
and the water from a snow globe. Both of them had insisted that the other drink
it, willing to forsake the precious liquid so that the other could survive.
While he was still recovering in the hospital, Scully had picked up a cheap
plastic snowglobe of the Washington Monument in the gift shop and had given it
to him to cheer him up. Upon returning home, Mulder had placed the snowglobe on
his desk in the living room. And it had remained there ever since, a constant
reminder of his partner's devotion to him.
Only now it was gone, smashed by Scully's own hand.
Meanwhile, Scully's blood was boiling. Did he find that wet spot more
interesting than what she had to say? That pushed her over the edge. "For God's
sake, Mulder, did you just hear a word I said?"
He turned back to face her, a stricken look on his face. He face had drained of
what remained of its color. And his eyes shone with the unmistakable glint of
unshed tears.
Scully supposed she had been wrong: he must have heard her rant about the pain
his treatment had caused her these past several years. And judging by his
reaction, he was still capable of feeling pain himself. She felt a vindictive
pleasure in knowing that she had caused that pain--that he might finally feel a
fraction on the hurt that he had caused her over the years.
*Good,* she thought. *He made his bed--let him lie in it for a while. Let him
mull over what I said, and see if it makes any difference in his thinking.*
"I hope you give what I said some thought, Mulder," she said, picking up her
coat. "Because I refuse to put up with this anymore. Unless you decide to make a
conscious effort to change your behavior, to give me the respect that I deserve,
then I really don't know what the future holds for us."
She felt a lump in the back of her throat and and the familiar prick of tears in
her own eyes. How had things managed to deteriorate so quickly? Was it just over
a week ago that they were working together like a well-oiled machine, each
utilizing their skills and expertise to solve their case in record time? That
they spoke with playful banter and interacted with casual flirting--flirting
which she even reciprocated much more than usual? That she considered telling
him how she felt about him? A week ago, she had been hopeful that they might
take their relationship to the next level, but right now she was fearful that
their partnership might end today.
And if that was what he decided, she had no one to blame but herself for
initiating this course of action. So be it.
She wanted to say more, but knew that if she tried to speak, her words would be
swallowed by tears. And that just would not fit with the determined image she
was trying to portray. So rather than say anything, she quickly took her leave,
walking out of his apartment and slamming the door behind her.
She quickly headed toward the elevator, secretly hoping that he would chase
after her. That she would hear him call her name. That he would tell her how
sorry he was for the way he treated her and that he would never ever take her
for granted again. That he would take her in his arms and beg her not to go.
That he would finally admit that he loved her, and that he could not live
without her. But he did not come.
With a *bing*, the elevator doors opened. She walked inside, and did not look
back.
The End
*****
Not the Doctor
by Alanis Morissette
I don't want to be the filler if the void is solely yours
I don't want to be your glass of single malt whiskey
Hidden in the bottom drawer
I don't want to be a bandage if the wound is not mine
Lend me some fresh air
I don't want to be adored for what I merely represent to you
I don't want to be your babysitter
You're a very big boy now
I don't want to be your mother
I didn't carry you in my womb for nine months
Show me the back door
Chorus:
Visiting hours are 9 to 5 and if I show up at 10 past 6
Well I already know that you'd find some way to sneak me in and oh
Mind the empty bottle with the holes along the bottom
You see it's too much to ask for and I am not the doctor
I don't want to be the sweeper of the eggshells that you walk upon
I don't want to be your other half I believe that 1 and 1 make 2
I don't want to be your food or the light from the fridge on your face at
midnight
Hey what are you hungry for
I don't want to be the glue that holds your pieces together
I don't want to be your idol
See this pedestal is high and I'm afraid of heights
I don't want to be lived through
A vicarious occasion
Please open the window
Repeat Chorus
I don't want to live on someday when my motto is last week
I don't want to be responsible for your fractured heart and its wounded beat
I don't want to be a substitute for the smoke you've been inhaling
What do you thank me
What do you thank me for
Repeat Chorus
*****
Author: Somogyi
Email: somogyi02@yahoo.com
Category: SRA
Rating: R for language
Spoilers: Through Season Five
Keywords: M/S UST
Summary: A man from Scully's past returns, asking for her and Mulder's help to
stop the development of a deadly biological weapon. But will the case bring
Mulder and Scully closer together, or tear them apart?
Disclaimer: The X-Files, Dana Scully, Fox Mulder, and all other characters
associated with the series are the property of Chris Carter, Ten-Thirteen
Productions, and the Fox Network. Characters are used without permission and no
profit is being made.
*****
"Not the Doctor"
by Somogyi
somogyi02@yahoo.com
Chapter 11
I don't want to be your babysitter
You're a very big boy now
I don't want to be your mother
I didn't carry you in my womb for nine months
Show me the back door
"Well, I'd say that about does it," said Detective Williams of the Virginia PD
as he closed his notebook and stuffed it into the pocket of his blazer.
*About bloody time,* Scully thought, closing her eyes and craning her neck
backwards to get the kinks out. She could not remember the last time she had
felt so tired. *That tends to happen when you don't sleep for nearly forty-eight
hours, Dana.*
She and Mulder had taken the first available flight back to DC. Since she had
left her car at the airport, she took pity on Mulder and drove him back to his
apartment. The exhaustion from his injury had apparently finally caught up with
him, because he dozed the entire trip home. It was just as well as far as Scully
was concerned, because she really did not want to talk to him right now.
She pulled up in front of his apartment and shut off the engine. She was
prepared to drop him off and go home for a much-needed bath before going to
sleep for the next week. That is, before she stole a glance at her partner.
Mulder slept with his chin tucked into his chest, his head lifting ever-so-
slightly with each breath. She gazed at him, amazed at the way he looked like an
innocent boy when he slept. An image swept across her mind's eye of a night
spent in a forest in the Florida Everglades. Her back propped against a log,
Mulder curled up like a small child in her lap, her arms wrapped securely around
him in an attempt to keep him warm. His sleepy plea for her to sing him a
lullaby. Seeing him now, one again hurt and tired, she had a similar urge to
take him into her arms, to hold him close and protect him from harm. She slowly
reached for his forehead, intent on brushing a stray lock of hair that had
fallen onto his brow.
*What the hell are you thinking, Dana?* she chided herself, her hand quickly
falling to her side. *If you coddle him now, he's going to get away with it
again. How many times has he taken advantage of your kindness, of your
forgiveness? He constantly ditches you, conveniently forgets that you might
actually be worried about what the hell he's doing, and only bothers to remember
when it's convenient for him, when he wants something. He doesn't treat you as a
partner, but as a nursemaid, as damage control. He doesn't give you the respect
you deserve. And if you don't finally say or do something about it, the pattern
is just going to repeat again and again and again. I'd say it's about fucking
time that you put an end to it. Here and now. Tonight.*
She reached for him again, this time grasping his arm and shaking him none-too-
gently. "Mulder, wake up. You're home."
He stirred, his eyes fluttering open and his head lifting. "Wha-What'd you say,
Scully?"
"I said you're home, Mulder. C'mon, I'll walk you up." She got out of the car
and walked over to the passenger side. Seeing him fumble with the handle with
his left hand, she jerked the door open for him.
"Thanks," he mumbled, climbing out of the car and closing the door behind him.
He started to walk towards the front door, but his legs grew wobbly, and he felt
himself falter.
"Easy does it," he heard her say as she slipped under his left arm. He accepted
her help with no protest, and leaned heavily on her shoulder as they made their
way into the building and to the elevator. As they slowly walked down the
corridor toward his apartment, they saw two men in suits and ties and dark
trenchcoats waiting for them. They introduced themselves as Detectives Williams
and Alvarez of the Virginia PD, there to take Mulder's statement about his
involvement--or lack thereof--in the Andraven murder case.
After depositing Mulder on his living room couch, Scully put up a pot of coffee
and then retreated to the bathroom to wash up. After placing a tray-full of
steaming mugs onto the coffee table, she sat down at Mulder's desk and listened
to the detectives conduct their interview.
They explained that Skinner had contacted their captain to inform him that
Mulder had been located, and that new evidence had surfaced which would prove
his innocence. The Assistant Director had explained about the video tape. Both
the Bureau's Video Production Unit and the VAPD's equivalent were verifying the
reliability of the barometer as evidence. Williams and Alvarez had already
contacted NYPD Detectives Toni Sabella and Doug Berger, who vouched for Mulder
being in their company during the time the murder was committed. They questioned
Mulder a bit about the last time he had seen Andraven, as well as his
involvement in the shooting and building fire in New York. Finally, over an hour
after they arrived, they took their leave.
"I'm sorry for any inconvenience, Agent Scully," Detective Williams told her,
actually managing to sound repentant. "We were just doing our jobs, is all. No
hard feelings?" he asked, holding out his hand.
Scully shook it. "Thank you for taking care of this so quickly, Detective."
"Yeah, well, I think your boss is even more of a tight ass than my captain.
Anyway, you and your partner get some rest. You both look like you could sleep
for a week." With a final nod, he left.
Scully closed the door with a weary sigh. She looked at her watch: 10:13 AM.
God, it wasn't even noon yet. She returned to the living room, intent on
offering a hasty good-bye before heading home. She found Mulder trying to gather
the mugs onto the tray.
"I'll take care of it, Mulder," she muttered, grabbing them from him and
depositing them in the kitchen sink with a bang. "You should get some rest,
Mulder," she told him as she returned. "Do you have any pain medication you can
take?"
"I'm sure I have something left over somewhere," he mumbled as he kicked off his
shoes and lay back with a grimace on the couch.
"All right, then. I'm outta here," she said, walking to the desk to collect her
things.
"What, no sponge bath before you go?" he asked, giving her his patented puppy-
dog pout.
This time, it did not have its usual effect. No flip-flop of her heart. No
sudden rush of desire. Not even the impulse to baby him. Instead, she had the
sudden urge to dump a bucket-full of cold water on him. Somehow, though, she
doubted even that rude awakening would have the desired effect. "Why don't you
give Toni a call? Hey, I bet Marita could charter them a private jet, and you
could get a threesome going."
His eyes shot open and he turned his head to look at her, brow furrowed.
"Scully, what the hell is up with you lately? You've been acting strange ever
since--"
"What's up with *me*? With *me*? I can't believe you have the audacity to ask me
such a question!"
"Scully, you're not still hung up about my trip to New York, are you?"
Was he for real? How could he not realize how upset she was? Did he merely view
her as some unfeeling object? Someone to answer to his beck and call, to come
bail him out of trouble whenever the need arose, and never protest? Well, it was
time for him to get his head out of his ass, and realize that she was more than
his mindless minion.
"God, you just don't get it, do you, Mulder? Do you know how worried I've been?
I hate not knowing, wondering where the hell you are, if you're alive, if you're
lying somewhere, bleeding to death. Do you realize what I've been through in the
past two days? Forget the fact that I sat in that goddammed restaurant for over
two hours waiting for you to show up.
That's a walk in the park compared to what came next. Ihave disobeyed a direct
order from my superior. I have lied and stolen. I have humiliated myself. I have
put everything on the line. And for what? For a so-called partner and friend who
couldn't even be bothered to hit the speed dial on his cell-phone. "Do you
know how upset I was when I got to the Rausch building and heard that you'd been
shot? Do you realize that I spent the entire drive to the hospital with my heart
in my throat, wondering if you were alive or dead? When they told me it was
little more than a flesh wound, all I could think about was getting to you, to
see with my own eyes that you were okay. And then I walked into the room, and
saw you laughing and joking with Detective Sabella. I'd been going out of my
head with worry, and you were trying to score."
"Scully, it wasn't like that at all. I don't know where this sudden jealous
streak has come from, but there's nothing between Toni and me."
"That's not the point, Mulder. I don't give a damn who you fuck. The point is
that while you were amusing the good detective, it never occurred to you that I
might be wondering where the hell you were. The point is that you had no
compunctions about working with this stranger, of going into a fire zone with
her to cover your back, while you couldn't be bothered to let me back you up.
Did it even occur to you to pick up a phone?"
"Scully, we didn't have time to wait for you to get to New York. They were about
to torch the place--"
"Please, stop! Stop with the goddamned excuses! I don't want to hear it
anymore!"
"Fine!" he shouted back. "Because I really don't think I owe you any kind of
explanation anyway."
"Bullshit! You owe me that, and then some!"
"Why? You're not my goddamned keeper, Scully."
"Well, maybe if you behaved like a rational adult, you wouldn't need one."
"What the hell is that supposed to mean?"
"That means that maybe if you acted maturely, and didn't constantly run off
half-cocked, I wouldn't feel the need to play protector."
"What the hell do you want from me, Scully? What do you want me to say? What is
it you want to hear from me?"
She was positively livid now. How could any thinking, breathing, feeling human
being be so dense, so clueless? Mulder usually considered himself intuitive, but
right now he might as well have his head buried in the sand.
"How about `I'm sorry, Scully'? That'd be a great start. `I'm sorry for treating
you like shit.' `I'm sorry for not giving you the respect you deserve as my
partner and friend.' Is any of this registering in that thick skull of yours,
Mulder? Here, let me spell it out for you: I am sick and tired of being
forgotten about, ignored, and taken for granted. This may be a newsflash to you,
but I do not like being ditched. I do not like being left out of the loop. I
don't like playing damage control, chasing you all around the country to wipe
your nose and bandage your wounds. And I sure as hell do not like having to take
the heat when you screw up."
"Scully, I've never asked you to--"
At this point, she was seeing red. It took all her restraint not to pull out her
gun and shoot him where he lay, or to pummel him with her bare hands. Instead,
she blindly reached for the nearest heavy object--which happened to be a
snowglobe sitting on his desk--and pitched it at his head with a vehement shout.
Luckily, her aim was a little off, and it smashed against the wall behind the
couch, pieces of plastic and fake snow and stale water raining down on the
cushions.
"No, Mulder, you've never asked me to play nursemaid, but you've expected it.
You've assumed that if you get into trouble, good little Scully will come to
bail you out. You decide to follow a lead on your own and things go sour, Scully
will come to your rescue, no questions asked. You get information from a
supposed-informant but don't bother to tell your partner where it came from--no
big deal, Scully won't care. And for six years, I haven't said boo to you. I've
gone along with your selfish, foolish actions, giving you my loyalty. But you
know what, Mulder, enough's enough. A partnership is supposed to cut both ways,
but right now it feels a little one-sided. And I'm sick and tired of it. I've
had it up to here--" she raised her hand a foot above her head-- "with your
impulsive behavior."
Pausing to take a breath, Scully noticed that Mulder had been looking for the
longest time at wet blotch on his wall where the globe impacted. His mind seemed
a million miles away. He was, in fact, remembering how they had traveled to the
Norwegian Sea during their second year together to investigate a ship whose crew
had mysteriously aged at an accelerated rate. He and Scully had similarly fallen
victim to rapid aging. After they ran out of water, Scully had managed to
collect a small jar of liquid--consisting of sardine juice, half-a-dozen lemons,
and the water from a snow globe. Both of them had insisted that the other drink
it, willing to forsake the precious liquid so that the other could survive.
While he was still recovering in the hospital, Scully had picked up a cheap
plastic snowglobe of the Washington Monument in the gift shop and had given it
to him to cheer him up. Upon returning home, Mulder had placed the snowglobe on
his desk in the living room. And it had remained there ever since, a constant
reminder of his partner's devotion to him.
Only now it was gone, smashed by Scully's own hand.
Meanwhile, Scully's blood was boiling. Did he find that wet spot more
interesting than what she had to say? That pushed her over the edge. "For God's
sake, Mulder, did you just hear a word I said?"
He turned back to face her, a stricken look on his face. He face had drained of
what remained of its color. And his eyes shone with the unmistakable glint of
unshed tears.
Scully supposed she had been wrong: he must have heard her rant about the pain
his treatment had caused her these past several years. And judging by his
reaction, he was still capable of feeling pain himself. She felt a vindictive
pleasure in knowing that she had caused that pain--that he might finally feel a
fraction on the hurt that he had caused her over the years.
*Good,* she thought. *He made his bed--let him lie in it for a while. Let him
mull over what I said, and see if it makes any difference in his thinking.*
"I hope you give what I said some thought, Mulder," she said, picking up her
coat. "Because I refuse to put up with this anymore. Unless you decide to make a
conscious effort to change your behavior, to give me the respect that I deserve,
then I really don't know what the future holds for us."
She felt a lump in the back of her throat and and the familiar prick of tears in
her own eyes. How had things managed to deteriorate so quickly? Was it just over
a week ago that they were working together like a well-oiled machine, each
utilizing their skills and expertise to solve their case in record time? That
they spoke with playful banter and interacted with casual flirting--flirting
which she even reciprocated much more than usual? That she considered telling
him how she felt about him? A week ago, she had been hopeful that they might
take their relationship to the next level, but right now she was fearful that
their partnership might end today.
And if that was what he decided, she had no one to blame but herself for
initiating this course of action. So be it.
She wanted to say more, but knew that if she tried to speak, her words would be
swallowed by tears. And that just would not fit with the determined image she
was trying to portray. So rather than say anything, she quickly took her leave,
walking out of his apartment and slamming the door behind her.
She quickly headed toward the elevator, secretly hoping that he would chase
after her. That she would hear him call her name. That he would tell her how
sorry he was for the way he treated her and that he would never ever take her
for granted again. That he would take her in his arms and beg her not to go.
That he would finally admit that he loved her, and that he could not live
without her. But he did not come.
With a *bing*, the elevator doors opened. She walked inside, and did not look
back.
The End
*****
Not the Doctor
by Alanis Morissette
I don't want to be the filler if the void is solely yours
I don't want to be your glass of single malt whiskey
Hidden in the bottom drawer
I don't want to be a bandage if the wound is not mine
Lend me some fresh air
I don't want to be adored for what I merely represent to you
I don't want to be your babysitter
You're a very big boy now
I don't want to be your mother
I didn't carry you in my womb for nine months
Show me the back door
Chorus:
Visiting hours are 9 to 5 and if I show up at 10 past 6
Well I already know that you'd find some way to sneak me in and oh
Mind the empty bottle with the holes along the bottom
You see it's too much to ask for and I am not the doctor
I don't want to be the sweeper of the eggshells that you walk upon
I don't want to be your other half I believe that 1 and 1 make 2
I don't want to be your food or the light from the fridge on your face at
midnight
Hey what are you hungry for
I don't want to be the glue that holds your pieces together
I don't want to be your idol
See this pedestal is high and I'm afraid of heights
I don't want to be lived through
A vicarious occasion
Please open the window
Repeat Chorus
I don't want to live on someday when my motto is last week
I don't want to be responsible for your fractured heart and its wounded beat
I don't want to be a substitute for the smoke you've been inhaling
What do you thank me
What do you thank me for
Repeat Chorus
*****