Divided and Conquered
The door opened after a single knock. He was standing there in a gray t-shirt and black sweatpants. His hair was rumpled, as if he had just come from bed, and he was barefoot. I didn't bother with any formalities. I shoved past him into the sparsely-furnished apartment and began lecturing him in a fashion similar to when I disputed his JFK conspiracy theories and assertions of extraterrestial life. "Just *what* do you think you're doing?"
He brushed past me towards his couch, one of the few large pieces of furniture in his frat-boy reminiscent abode. His feet went up onto the coffee table, and he laced his fingers behind his head. I raised my eyebrows. "Mulder?"
He looked innocently at me, the face of perfect innocence. "What are you doing?"
His head tilted to the side. "Getting ready for a tirade." he replied matter-of-factly.
I couldn't believe my ears. Joking around, after what he'd done. "You're certainly getting one." I snapped. I began pacing. I'd been ready with what I wanted to say when I'd driven over. Somehow, though, Mulder's lax behavior had unnerved me.
I took a deep breath and stopped pacing to stand directly across from Mulder. "This morning, I arrived at work."
"An ordinary day in the life of Agent Scully, G-Woman Extraordinare..." Mulder teased in horror-show host fashion. I silenced him with a mean look.
"I came to work, but before I got one foot in the elevator door, I am told my immediate superior would like to 'talk' to me." I folded my arms over my chest and glared.
"Skinner called you in?" Mulder asked in mock surprise.
"Skinner called me in." I repeated, emphasizing each word. "And do you know what he did? He screamed so hard at me for fifteen minutes, I thought he was going to have a coronary thrombosis."
Mulder chuckled. I leaned forward, arms still folded. "And do you know *why* I was subjected to endless blaring and having to stare at a throbbing vein in the assistant director's neck first thing in the morning?"
"Bad luck?" Mulder ventured. He gave me a weak smile.
I pointed at him. "You, Mulder. It was all because of *you*. 'Bad luck', you said? If that's a synonym for *you*! My bumbling partner. Or should I say, ex-partner?"
That was it, or course. Skinner pulled me aside to tell me that Mulder had finally done it. At first I thought he'd shot himself somewhere, but it was worse. He'd quit the FBI. He'd just phoned that morning and resigned. A.D. Skinner was waiting for his formal letter of resignation to be faxed in when I entered. Needless to say, he was not pleased.
It's comical, actually. The asistant director was on the verge of getting my partner permanently expelled from the Bureau hundreds of times. I can't begin to count how many times he told Mulder he was "crossing the line." But when Mulder finally did it, when he'd finally backed off, Skinner assigns me with "hauling his seat back into that heatless office down there." Which was exactly what I was trying to do, as well as coerce a logical explanation out of him. It wasn't going to be easy. I was already on edge the moment he opened the door. He didn't even look as if he bothered to shower or even get out of bed. I was going to have a tough time talking to him. But I knew Mulder. I knew how to appeal to him.
Mulder may lack in the department of emotions, somewhat, but he's never had a low supply of passion. And that passion was devoted to very specific goals - or should I say, goal. Finding his sister. That passion spawned his other obsesson - those cases other FBI agents turn their noses up at, cases no one but Spooky Mulder would even touch, the X-files.
I was asigned to reel the maverick who sits before me back in, but everyone overestimated me. *He* ended up reeling me in. Partly. I'm still a doctor; I still trust science above all else. But I have to admit being paired with Mulder has been one eye-opening experience after another. And, in all the time we've spent interviewing crafty informants and chasing phantom leads, I've felt I've leraned a lot about myself, my beliefs and the strength of my own convictions. And a lot about Mulder. I'd say he was a good friend. Which was why I followed him over to his fish tank, tapping my foot impatiently.
"Well?" I demanded.
Mulder calmly picked up a canister of fish food and sprinkled it all along the top of the tank. His starved fish pounced at the tiny gray pellets. He may have loved them, but he barely ever fed them. "Well, what?" he said at last.
I wanted to stomp my foot like a four-year-old throwing a tantrum. I grabbed him by the shoulders and spun him around to face me. "Mulder, when they first asigned me to you, you thought I was a spy. I had to earn your trust. Remember Alaska? It's been a long time since then, Mulder. We've been through a lot together, you can't deny that. It's been the X-files that kept us together all this time, It was your *obsession* with the X-files, wth the *truth*, that kept us together. Well, listen to me, Mulder. The moment you said the words 'I quit', they dissolved the X-files. They've done it before, Mulder, but not like this." I looked him straight in the eye. "I've been reassigned."
He touched my arm. His expression was dead serious. "They can't do that. That's not how you play the game. Dividing and conquering. That's what they've done, Scully. Divided and conquered."
I ignored his dark mutterings and continued complaining. "Nowehere, USA." I said. "Do you know where 'Nowhere' is, Mulder? Do you?"
I collapsed onto his couch. It gave a mild groan. *I* felt like groaning. My eyes shut involuntarily. A second later, Mulder flopped down next to me.
"Why'd you do it?" I asked in a half-whisper. My eyes were still closed.
I could hear him shruging. "I realized what I was doing, Scully. The way I see it, if I stayed, I had three options. I'd get fired, I'd quit or I'd kill myself."
"You could've gotten shot." I pointed out irrationally.
A chuckle. "You'd just kiss it all better, Scully."
He paused and the silence was awkward. In all our years together, we'd never suffered a lack of something to say.
"I'm taking that reassigment, Mulder."
My words seemed to echo through the tiny apartment. I opened my eyes. Mulder was staring incredulously at me. A surge of anger shot through me. "What did you think I was going to do, Mulder? Quit after you?"
The look in his eyes said just that. I got angrier. "Do you think my life revolves around you?"
Again, I saw that he thought just that. "This is incredible." I said. I leapt up and almost fell over the coffee table.
Mulder's hand shot out to steady me. I shook him off and managed to walk out of the space created by the couch and table unharmed. Mulder's voice, vulnerable and unsure, made me start. "My life revolves around *you*."
I didn't turn. I couldn't. I was afraid to look at him. He continued talking, as if to himself. "You're my best friend."
I turned then, a lone tear trickling down my cheek. He was slumped on the couch. The clothes that had made him look lazy and unkempt when I'd arrived seemed to enlarge. He looked lost. The rumpled hair and bare feet added to the illusion that he was a defenseless little boy. My heart almost broke at the way his voice cracked on the words "best friend".
I went back and sat on the couch. He was talking, not looking at me, his head down and in shadow. "I always knew it would happen. The reassignment, definitely. I just thought... I knew I'd find out I was the delusional fool everyone thinks I am." He turned to me and his voice was soft. "I hoped it wouldn't happen like this."
I was crying freely now. It was a female, adolescent act, but I couldn't help myself. He was always so honest with me, but his confession had caught me completely off-guard. It was so very... heartfelt. The tears flowed uncontrollably. Mulder's hand cupped my face and wiped away a tear. "Scully, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to ask for your sympathy."
He took my hand with his other and held it. "I'm a fool, Scully. A crank." His voice took on a hard edge. His hand fell away from my face. "I told you before to get away from me. Get as far away from me as possible before I ruin your life."
He let go of my hand. "Don't let me talk you into doing something you don't want to, Scully. Wherever you're going, it's a better place. It's far away from me."
Infuriating. Everything he'd said, he'd contradicted about a thousand times. If I hadn't realized in that moment that he was *my* best friend, I would have stood up and left.
He was talking again. Lapsing into that serious, quivery tone of the past revelations. "Sometimes, late at night, I'll want to call you and just listen to the sound of your voice. I have these visions - not nightmares, just visions - where I see myself as the last person on the entire planet or everyone's finally come their senses and locked me... out. But I just keep thinking about you. No matter what, I know you'll be there. Just a phone call away. And I know you'll always have a handy supply of stinging rationalism to bring me back."
He ended with a strange little chuckle. "But now we're divided," he said. His voice trailed off as he finished his sentence, "...and conquered."
The tears had stopped, but a lump had formed in my throat. I had come over frustrated, become enraged, been reduced to tears and now I was groping for the right words. I needed to talk. It was my turn. That was how we worked. Partners. In sync. Complementary. But this... 'thing' between Mulder and me had evolved from a partnership to a friendship that long ago moment in Alaska, when the other members of our investigation team were convinced Mulder was going to kill them because a hostile worm had been introduced into his system. They'd sent me in to check him for the worm. He'd stared straight at me, all his defenses down, and said, "I want to trust you."
"Mulder, I think of you as my best friend, too." I slipped my hand into his.
"Don't." said Mulder. "Don't do it, Dana."
I was taken aback by him using my first name. He was serious. "Don't let me manipulate you. That's not what I want to do." He pulled his hand away. "Don't try to salvage my ego. Just go. Don't listen to a word I said or will say. Go, get away."
I stood up, slowly. "I'm not leaving, Mulder. I was going to, believe me I was, but only because I thought...I don't know what I thought. That maybe you'd lost interest in the quest or something. Mostly I thought it was me. I'd finally pushed you over the edge. My constant nagging explanations got to you."
A hint of a smile appeared at the corner of his lips. "That's so egotistical, it sounds like something I would've said."
"You can't quit, Mulder. Not after this heart-to-heart. And remember? If you quit now, they've definitely won the game."
He nodded and stood up as well, towering over me. "Would you say this was the single most important conversation we ever had?"
"Yes. No." I answered. I shrugged. I cocked my head to stare up at him. "Divided?"
"Never." he replied solemnly." He pulled me into a hug. Into my ear he whispered, "Never divided."
"Never conquered." I whispered back.
Skinner ended up not getting that letter of resignation.
The door opened after a single knock. He was standing there in a gray t-shirt and black sweatpants. His hair was rumpled, as if he had just come from bed, and he was barefoot. I didn't bother with any formalities. I shoved past him into the sparsely-furnished apartment and began lecturing him in a fashion similar to when I disputed his JFK conspiracy theories and assertions of extraterrestial life. "Just *what* do you think you're doing?"
He brushed past me towards his couch, one of the few large pieces of furniture in his frat-boy reminiscent abode. His feet went up onto the coffee table, and he laced his fingers behind his head. I raised my eyebrows. "Mulder?"
He looked innocently at me, the face of perfect innocence. "What are you doing?"
His head tilted to the side. "Getting ready for a tirade." he replied matter-of-factly.
I couldn't believe my ears. Joking around, after what he'd done. "You're certainly getting one." I snapped. I began pacing. I'd been ready with what I wanted to say when I'd driven over. Somehow, though, Mulder's lax behavior had unnerved me.
I took a deep breath and stopped pacing to stand directly across from Mulder. "This morning, I arrived at work."
"An ordinary day in the life of Agent Scully, G-Woman Extraordinare..." Mulder teased in horror-show host fashion. I silenced him with a mean look.
"I came to work, but before I got one foot in the elevator door, I am told my immediate superior would like to 'talk' to me." I folded my arms over my chest and glared.
"Skinner called you in?" Mulder asked in mock surprise.
"Skinner called me in." I repeated, emphasizing each word. "And do you know what he did? He screamed so hard at me for fifteen minutes, I thought he was going to have a coronary thrombosis."
Mulder chuckled. I leaned forward, arms still folded. "And do you know *why* I was subjected to endless blaring and having to stare at a throbbing vein in the assistant director's neck first thing in the morning?"
"Bad luck?" Mulder ventured. He gave me a weak smile.
I pointed at him. "You, Mulder. It was all because of *you*. 'Bad luck', you said? If that's a synonym for *you*! My bumbling partner. Or should I say, ex-partner?"
That was it, or course. Skinner pulled me aside to tell me that Mulder had finally done it. At first I thought he'd shot himself somewhere, but it was worse. He'd quit the FBI. He'd just phoned that morning and resigned. A.D. Skinner was waiting for his formal letter of resignation to be faxed in when I entered. Needless to say, he was not pleased.
It's comical, actually. The asistant director was on the verge of getting my partner permanently expelled from the Bureau hundreds of times. I can't begin to count how many times he told Mulder he was "crossing the line." But when Mulder finally did it, when he'd finally backed off, Skinner assigns me with "hauling his seat back into that heatless office down there." Which was exactly what I was trying to do, as well as coerce a logical explanation out of him. It wasn't going to be easy. I was already on edge the moment he opened the door. He didn't even look as if he bothered to shower or even get out of bed. I was going to have a tough time talking to him. But I knew Mulder. I knew how to appeal to him.
Mulder may lack in the department of emotions, somewhat, but he's never had a low supply of passion. And that passion was devoted to very specific goals - or should I say, goal. Finding his sister. That passion spawned his other obsesson - those cases other FBI agents turn their noses up at, cases no one but Spooky Mulder would even touch, the X-files.
I was asigned to reel the maverick who sits before me back in, but everyone overestimated me. *He* ended up reeling me in. Partly. I'm still a doctor; I still trust science above all else. But I have to admit being paired with Mulder has been one eye-opening experience after another. And, in all the time we've spent interviewing crafty informants and chasing phantom leads, I've felt I've leraned a lot about myself, my beliefs and the strength of my own convictions. And a lot about Mulder. I'd say he was a good friend. Which was why I followed him over to his fish tank, tapping my foot impatiently.
"Well?" I demanded.
Mulder calmly picked up a canister of fish food and sprinkled it all along the top of the tank. His starved fish pounced at the tiny gray pellets. He may have loved them, but he barely ever fed them. "Well, what?" he said at last.
I wanted to stomp my foot like a four-year-old throwing a tantrum. I grabbed him by the shoulders and spun him around to face me. "Mulder, when they first asigned me to you, you thought I was a spy. I had to earn your trust. Remember Alaska? It's been a long time since then, Mulder. We've been through a lot together, you can't deny that. It's been the X-files that kept us together all this time, It was your *obsession* with the X-files, wth the *truth*, that kept us together. Well, listen to me, Mulder. The moment you said the words 'I quit', they dissolved the X-files. They've done it before, Mulder, but not like this." I looked him straight in the eye. "I've been reassigned."
He touched my arm. His expression was dead serious. "They can't do that. That's not how you play the game. Dividing and conquering. That's what they've done, Scully. Divided and conquered."
I ignored his dark mutterings and continued complaining. "Nowehere, USA." I said. "Do you know where 'Nowhere' is, Mulder? Do you?"
I collapsed onto his couch. It gave a mild groan. *I* felt like groaning. My eyes shut involuntarily. A second later, Mulder flopped down next to me.
"Why'd you do it?" I asked in a half-whisper. My eyes were still closed.
I could hear him shruging. "I realized what I was doing, Scully. The way I see it, if I stayed, I had three options. I'd get fired, I'd quit or I'd kill myself."
"You could've gotten shot." I pointed out irrationally.
A chuckle. "You'd just kiss it all better, Scully."
He paused and the silence was awkward. In all our years together, we'd never suffered a lack of something to say.
"I'm taking that reassigment, Mulder."
My words seemed to echo through the tiny apartment. I opened my eyes. Mulder was staring incredulously at me. A surge of anger shot through me. "What did you think I was going to do, Mulder? Quit after you?"
The look in his eyes said just that. I got angrier. "Do you think my life revolves around you?"
Again, I saw that he thought just that. "This is incredible." I said. I leapt up and almost fell over the coffee table.
Mulder's hand shot out to steady me. I shook him off and managed to walk out of the space created by the couch and table unharmed. Mulder's voice, vulnerable and unsure, made me start. "My life revolves around *you*."
I didn't turn. I couldn't. I was afraid to look at him. He continued talking, as if to himself. "You're my best friend."
I turned then, a lone tear trickling down my cheek. He was slumped on the couch. The clothes that had made him look lazy and unkempt when I'd arrived seemed to enlarge. He looked lost. The rumpled hair and bare feet added to the illusion that he was a defenseless little boy. My heart almost broke at the way his voice cracked on the words "best friend".
I went back and sat on the couch. He was talking, not looking at me, his head down and in shadow. "I always knew it would happen. The reassignment, definitely. I just thought... I knew I'd find out I was the delusional fool everyone thinks I am." He turned to me and his voice was soft. "I hoped it wouldn't happen like this."
I was crying freely now. It was a female, adolescent act, but I couldn't help myself. He was always so honest with me, but his confession had caught me completely off-guard. It was so very... heartfelt. The tears flowed uncontrollably. Mulder's hand cupped my face and wiped away a tear. "Scully, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to ask for your sympathy."
He took my hand with his other and held it. "I'm a fool, Scully. A crank." His voice took on a hard edge. His hand fell away from my face. "I told you before to get away from me. Get as far away from me as possible before I ruin your life."
He let go of my hand. "Don't let me talk you into doing something you don't want to, Scully. Wherever you're going, it's a better place. It's far away from me."
Infuriating. Everything he'd said, he'd contradicted about a thousand times. If I hadn't realized in that moment that he was *my* best friend, I would have stood up and left.
He was talking again. Lapsing into that serious, quivery tone of the past revelations. "Sometimes, late at night, I'll want to call you and just listen to the sound of your voice. I have these visions - not nightmares, just visions - where I see myself as the last person on the entire planet or everyone's finally come their senses and locked me... out. But I just keep thinking about you. No matter what, I know you'll be there. Just a phone call away. And I know you'll always have a handy supply of stinging rationalism to bring me back."
He ended with a strange little chuckle. "But now we're divided," he said. His voice trailed off as he finished his sentence, "...and conquered."
The tears had stopped, but a lump had formed in my throat. I had come over frustrated, become enraged, been reduced to tears and now I was groping for the right words. I needed to talk. It was my turn. That was how we worked. Partners. In sync. Complementary. But this... 'thing' between Mulder and me had evolved from a partnership to a friendship that long ago moment in Alaska, when the other members of our investigation team were convinced Mulder was going to kill them because a hostile worm had been introduced into his system. They'd sent me in to check him for the worm. He'd stared straight at me, all his defenses down, and said, "I want to trust you."
"Mulder, I think of you as my best friend, too." I slipped my hand into his.
"Don't." said Mulder. "Don't do it, Dana."
I was taken aback by him using my first name. He was serious. "Don't let me manipulate you. That's not what I want to do." He pulled his hand away. "Don't try to salvage my ego. Just go. Don't listen to a word I said or will say. Go, get away."
I stood up, slowly. "I'm not leaving, Mulder. I was going to, believe me I was, but only because I thought...I don't know what I thought. That maybe you'd lost interest in the quest or something. Mostly I thought it was me. I'd finally pushed you over the edge. My constant nagging explanations got to you."
A hint of a smile appeared at the corner of his lips. "That's so egotistical, it sounds like something I would've said."
"You can't quit, Mulder. Not after this heart-to-heart. And remember? If you quit now, they've definitely won the game."
He nodded and stood up as well, towering over me. "Would you say this was the single most important conversation we ever had?"
"Yes. No." I answered. I shrugged. I cocked my head to stare up at him. "Divided?"
"Never." he replied solemnly." He pulled me into a hug. Into my ear he whispered, "Never divided."
"Never conquered." I whispered back.
Skinner ended up not getting that letter of resignation.
